Songs of Christmas (34 page)

He shrugged. “I do like the way you dress, but I wasn’t just talking about that.” When Amanda didn’t answer, he said, “Your playing was pretty intense today. I’ve heard you practice before, but I’ve never seen you like that.”

Amanda laughed. “Yeah, sometimes I can really go into the zone. Did I scare you?”

“A little,” he said with a grin. “I mean, the roof could have caved in, and I don’t think you would have noticed.”

“I probably would have . . . after a few minutes. But that’s good. I need to be intense for this one.”

He nodded. “You were. And you were fabulous,” he added.

He was always so full of praise and encouragement. She didn’t allow herself to believe half of it, but it still helped her tremendously, warming her right now as much as the soup.

“Feeling nervous?” he asked.

“Yeah, I am, but I’m trying to be more low-key than the last time. If I get it, that will be great. But if I don’t, it’s not the end of the world, right?”

He smiled and tilted his head to one side. “Well, you never know. If you’d gotten that job in Austin, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me now, shivering in a drafty church social hall, eating soup and crackers.”

“That’s right. I would have missed out on all this glamour,” she agreed in a very serious tone.

He started laughing, and she did, too. A little while later, she said, “I was just thinking of something you said about your artwork. That there was a plan for you. Maybe there’s one for me, too. So I don’t have to worry so much.”

“I know there is, and I know you don’t have to worry,” he promised her. The jacket had slipped from her shoulders and he fixed it, resting his hand on her shoulder. Then he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead.

He was so sweet to her and she cared for him so much. If she got this job in Portland, she would be leaving Cape Light. Leaving Gabriel, just as they were getting to know each other. Amanda couldn’t even let herself think about that right now.

He leaned back and smiled, then started gathering up the trash. “Well, time to get back to work.”

“Me, too.” She helped him clear off the table and returned to the sanctuary. Amanda practiced for another hour, then packed up her cello. Gabriel was still working, high on a ladder, as she walked up the side aisle to the exit.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” he asked.

She nodded. “I think so. I got a lot done today.”

“Good, I’m glad I didn’t bother you. I’ll be here, too. If that’s all right.”

“It’s fine. No problem.”
Better than fine,
she wanted to say.
I can hardly think of a better reason to come back to a cold, empty church to rehearse all day.
“My turn to get lunch tomororrow?”

He laughed. “That’s a deal. See you then.”

She waved to him. “See you,” she called back.

* * *

AS THE DAYS PASSED, AMANDA AND GABRIEL DEVELOPED A ROUTINE.
She played while he worked on the windows. He would occasionally offer encouragement or even an opinion when she asked if he liked the sound of a few notes played one way or another.

They took a break for lunch together and sat and talked. Not just about her audition and his work, but about all kinds of things—their favorite foods and movies, their best and worst teachers, countries they wanted to see. As the audition loomed closer, she felt they were getting closer, too. She had never imagined she could tolerate anyone hanging around as she prepared for this important day. But Gabriel was different. His presence somehow drowned out the doubting voices that sometimes took up residence in her head. They were hard to hear over his words of encouragement and praise and the laughter she and Gabriel often shared. And even when the voices rose up after she had put her cello aside for the day, all she had to do was think of him. Picturing his warm smile and blue eyes gazing into her own was enough to silence the doubting voices completely.

Would she win this seat up in Portland? Amanda knew it was impossible to say. But she felt more confident and centered than she ever had before, and she believed that whatever happened, she would be at peace with it.

* * *

LILLIAN WAS SURE SHE HAD NEVER GIVEN PERMISSION FOR ANYONE TO
watch the television in the living room, but somehow that rule went by the wayside. The television upstairs was not yet connected to the cable, so, of course, the children weren’t very interested in staying upstairs. They didn’t seem very interested in doing anything constructive. Not even playing outside and getting some fresh air, which she thought might tire them out.

When she came downstairs on Saturday morning, even though it was quite late, there they were, still in their pajamas, watching cartoons—and eating bowls of cereal in the living room.

The Christmas tree was surrounded by gifts covered in torn wrapping paper, falling out of their boxes, and brightly colored toys were underfoot everywhere. She had nearly slipped on a miniature race car the day before.

Lillian felt her blood pressure rising.

“No cereal in here. I’ve told you that before,” she said sternly. She tapped her cane on the wooden floor to get their attention. “And pick up all these toys! They should all be upstairs. There’s plenty of space up there. Do you want me to end up in the hospital—or worse?”

The children scurried. Jorge shut off the TV set, and Marta put the bowls and spoons on the coffee table, which made Lillian shudder with even greater horror. Milky spots on her genuine Duncan Phyfe burl pedestal . . . Oh, there was no mercy in this world. No mercy. She leaned over and snatched them up.

Bonita ran in from the kitchen to see what the commotion was about. Jorge spoke to her in rapid Spanish as he ran past with two glasses half full of juice.

They had juice in here, too? Lillian had to sit down when she saw that. She held the bowls in her lap.

Marta walked over and shyly patted her hand, then put a stuffed animal on the arm of her chair. Lillian could hardly tell what it was. A small white rabbit, perhaps, or maybe a polar bear.

“¿Señora
Lillian
?
¿Estás bien?”
Bonita leaned toward her and gently took the bowls away.

Lillian stared at her. “Speak English, please. I can’t understand a word.”

“She wants to know if you’re okay.” Jorge had returned and looked up at her. He had his mother’s serious expression and fine dark eyes. “Should I call my mother? She’s a nurse.”

“Yes, I know your mother is a nurse,” she snapped back. “I would be fine if anyone around here would pay me any mind. I have asked that you heed a few simple requests, and this is what I get.” She looked around and tossed her hands in the air. “It’s a complete disaster area in here, utter and complete.”

Bonita put her arms around the children’s shoulders, then ushered them from the room. Estrella came in just as they were walking out.

“Mrs. Elliot, I’m so sorry. I was taking care of Dr. Ezra, and I didn’t realize the children were in here. I told them to go upstairs and get ready to go out with their
abuela
.”

“Well, they did not obey you, obviously . . . and there’s no eating in here. Or watching TV. I thought I’d made that perfectly clear.” She pointed to the table with her cane. “Look at that . . . stains on the wood. How will I get that out? It has to be refinished.”

Estrella took a closer look at the table. “I’ll try with some lemon oil. If that doesn’t work, I’ll pay for the repair. Please don’t worry.”

Lillian stared straight ahead, breathing in and out heavily, trying to get her temper under control. “It’s just the idea. No one is listening to me. It’s fine that you’re all here. But there has to be some order, some respect for my rules.”

“I understand,” Estrella said calmly. “It’s hard with the children on vacation. I’ll try to keep them upstairs,” she promised.

Lillian felt uneasy about that, too. Stuck in those stuffy upstairs rooms, what sort of mischief would they concoct? One day they did stay upstairs to play. They made a big tent with sheets and flashlights. That would have been fine, but they had some sort of music player blasting so loud you could hear it all over the house.

“They should go outside, get some air. Walk to the library,” she suggested. “Have they ever seen the exhibit in the historical center? That might keep them occupied for a while.”

Estrella nodded. “Good idea. My mother will take them there today. They won’t be underfoot, I promise.”

Lillian let out a long sigh and heaved herself up. “I’d like some breakfast when you get a chance,” she added over her shoulder. “A poached egg on toast would be nice. I’ll be in Dr. Ezra’s room. Please call me when it’s ready.”

“Yes, Mrs. Elliot. I will call you,” Estrella said politely.

Estrella had started picking up the toys and other items scattered around the living room. Lillian wished she would simply throw it all out. Including that infernal tree. Christmas was over as far as she was concerned.

* * *

GABRIEL ASKED AMANDA IF SHE WANTED TO GO OUT ON SATURDAY
night, but Amanda was busy with her family. It was Lauren’s last night at home, and they were all going out to dinner.

Molly had told Amanda she could invite Gabriel to join them for the family dinner, but Amanda decided not to. As her audition drew closer, the reality that she might be hired and might soon move to Maine cast a shadow on their relationship. Well, it did in her mind. It was hard to tell what he was thinking.

They had gone out to the movies one night after her practice session at church. She had been a bit distracted, feeling nervous about the audition. But Gabriel seemed to understand. When they said good night, he asked her out for New Year’s Eve. She had been secretly hoping he would and had been glad to accept. Then she realized that it might be difficult to spend that evening together if she knew she was moving away. New Year’s Eve was supposed to be the start of things, not an ending.

It felt as if their relationship was just getting started, and if she did win the seat in Portland, it might be too fragile to survive such a big change.

Luckily, Lauren was still up, watching a movie and willing to talk things over. “It’s not as if you’d be moving to California,” she pointed out. “Portland is only two hours away. Besides, with texting and Skype, it’s almost like a person is in the next room. We stay in touch pretty well, don’t we?”

She and Lauren were in touch constantly. They had video chats and sent photos and texts over the phone, night and day.

Amanda sometimes even knew what Lauren was eating. But messaging like that with her sister seemed different somehow.

“You’re not a guy. You’re my sister.”

“Duh.”

“It’s just different. And people usually do the long-distance thing when they’ve been going out a long time. Gabriel and I have only known each other a few weeks.”

“You know him well enough to walk into walls every time you get back from a date. Don’t deny it,” Lauren added with a laugh. “That’s what counts.”

Lauren knew her too well. Amanda couldn’t remember when she had felt this way about anyone. But it was all so . . . new, and she might be starting a new life in Portland. One that was very different from his life down here. She wasn’t even sure if he would want to keep up their relationship if she moved. And she wasn’t sure she could bear to ask.

* * *

THE CHOIR HAD THE SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS OFF, BUT AMANDA
had to attend the service; she played the piano and organ as the congregation sang hymns. The sanctuary was nearly empty, but Reverend Ben put the same spirit and heart into a service even if there was only one person in the pews. Gabriel was among the handful and waited for her afterward.

“You had to make do without the choir today. How come you don’t get a day off, too?” he asked.

“I did have the day off. That was recorded music,” she teased him. “I just sat up there to make it look good.”

He grinned, surprised to be getting some of his own medicine. “Well . . . the big day approaches. Tomorrow, right? How do you feel?”

“Pretty good, though I do want to get in some more practicing today.”

“Does that mean you can’t go out for dinner tonight?” Before she could answer, he added, “No, I don’t want to tempt you. You probably have to get up really early.”

“I do,” she said, though she really did want to spend time with him. “How about lunch? My treat,” she offered. She glanced across the village green at the Main Street. “How do pancakes sound? With lots of cinnamon, of course.”

“I’m always up for pancakes on Sunday morning. And there is a certain symmetry to it,” he added. “That was our first date,” he reminded her.

Of course she remembered. How could she ever forget? She had been thinking that, too.

As they headed toward the diner, he took her hand. “You seem so quiet. Are you worried?”

She shrugged. “A little. I did read that a certain amount of stress is good when you have to do something like this.”

“Probably true,” he said with a grin. “What time do you have to be there?”

“At eleven. But I’m planning to get up there by nine or nine thirty, so I have some time to unwind and warm up.”

“Good idea. How long will they keep you?”

“It’s hard to say. Probably about a half hour. It’s not the length of time—it’s the intensity . . .”

“That sounds tough.”

“It will be. But worth it, I hope,” she added. She suddenly wished he could come with her. No one besides the search committee could sit in on the audition. But she would feel better just knowing he was nearby.

He would probably come if she asked him, but she knew she couldn’t do it.

“Don’t worry. You’ll do fine,” he comforted her, misreading her silence. “By this time tomorrow, it will be all over,” he reminded her. “Will they tell you right there?”

“I wish, but it’s not likely. There are probably other candidates. But I don’t think they’ll wait too long. I have a feeling they need to fill the seat right away.”

“Maybe we can get together when you get back,” he said.

She turned to him, feeling the wind off the water pull at her hair. “I’m going to stay over with an old friend from college that night. She lives up there, and it will be fun to see her . . . but I’ll call you and let you know how it goes.”