When the Music Ends (The Winter Rose Chronicles) (20 page)

            "I
can see that. Let me process this for a while. I’m sure once the shock
wears off, it will be fine."

            Sean
hoped that was true.

******

            About
the time Sean was having his white-knuckled conversation with his parents, Erin was arriving at the music department’s recital hall for the rehearsal for the senior
woodwind group.  She was a few minutes early. She hadn’t even opened
her oboe case since Tuesday, and she felt a little rusty after so many days.
She crossed the wooden floor of the stage and plunked herself down in one of
the uncomfortable orange plastic chairs, setting her music on the stand, and
began putting the pieces of her instrument together. She glanced over the rows
of folding plywood seats anchored to the floor. Each one had a little half desk
that could be stowed inside the armrest when not in use. How many classes she
had attended in this space? It was as familiar to her as her dorm room. Just as
she was fitting her double reed into the top of the oboe, a couple of her
friends came in. This woodwind group, calling itself The Young Bohemians, was
really close-knit, and Erin was quite sure that no matter where everyone ended
up, they would always stay in touch.

            Tory
and Justin were a couple, and always together, so it was no surprise that they
arrived hand in hand. Erin deliberately blew hard into her oboe and greeted
them with a raucous quack. This was a game these young musicians played. All of
them were far too accomplished for their instruments to make such ugly noises
unless it was on purpose, but all were young enough to remember when this had
not been the case.

            "Hi,
Erin," Tory greeted her with a one-sided hug around the shoulders.

            "Hey,
guys. How’s it going? Did you have a good break?"

            "Oh
yes," the black-haired girl said, waggling her eyebrows, "I took
Justin to meet my parents."

            "How
nerve wracking. Justin, did you survive intact? I don’t think it will
help your clarinet playing to have pieces missing from your hide."

            "It
was fine." Justin was a quiet man with a nose almost too large for his
thin face and dark hair that stood out in all directions. He rarely said a
word. He let his clarinet do most of the communicating for him.

            Tory
giggled, "Yeah, except when they almost caught us in bed together."

            "Really?"
Erin laughed. "Then I’m double glad you’re still
alive."

            Justin
blushed and sat down to put his instrument together. He gave the embarrassing
situation the raspberry through his clarinet, making it squeal horrendously,
just as Ilona, Marisol, and Marcus came in.

            "My
God, Justin," Marcus said, his aristocratic features wrinkling in disgust
at the horrible noise, "if that’s all the better you can play that
thing, we’ll have to move you to percussion."

            He
lugged his bassoon case over to a chair and opened it up.

            "What
about you, Erin?" Tory asked, "What did you do? Did you go
anywhere?"

            "I
had a wonderful Thanksgiving," Erin said simply, and it was true. There
was nothing better than a honeymoon, after all, but the two of them had decided
to get out of bed and take Sheridan out for Thanksgiving dinner at a local cafeteria
restaurant. They had been the youngest people there by several decades, but it
had been fun nonetheless.

            "I’ll
say you had a wonderful time, Erin," Marisol said, tossing her dyed red
hair. "Just what the hell is that on your neck? Don’t tell me
it’s from a curling iron. I know a hickey when I see one."

            Erin put her hand to her throat. "Oh God, did he leave a mark?" Her pale face
flushed scarlet.

            "My,
my, my, Erin, what DID you do over Thanksgiving?" Ilona drawled.
"Did you finally lose your virginity?"

            "Uh,
no."

            "Liar."

            "Seriously.
There was nothing to lose. Can we drop it please?"

            "Nothing
to lose?" Tory asked, surprised. "You’ve never dated that I’m
aware of."

            Erin took a deep breath. "Actually, you’ve never known me when I was a virgin.  I’ve
had a boyfriend all along, since high school. I had a great weekend, but well,
like I said, we’ve been together for years. It was not even close to
being the first time."

            Everyone
stared at her.

            "Um,
if that’s the case, why didn’t you ever say anything?" Ilona
asked.

            "Well,
we kind of decided to take it easy while I was away at college, so I would have
time to study, you know? But he came up for a visit, and it was…just too
much. We were both about ready to burst. So we decided to just…get
married."

            She
held up her left hand, displaying the pretty ring.

            There
was a moment of stunned silence and then all the girls began to scream, squeal,
and make noises no one would have expected a group of serious musicians to
make. They descended on Erin, hugging her.

            After
a moment, Tory said, "You know, my roommate said she saw you on Tuesday,
in the courtyard outside the English building, making out with some hot guy. I
told her she was crazy. Was that true?"

            "Yes."

            "So
that’s your husband? What’s his name?"

            "Sean.
He’s actually my roommate’s older brother. We’ve known each
other forever."

            "How
nice. Sean what?"

            "Murphy."

            "Hmmm
Erin Murphy," Marisol tried it out. Erin had never heard her name
transformed this way, and it sounded so great she almost went to pieces and
cried right there.

            At
that moment, the director came in.

            "Hey,
what’s this? Why aren’t your instruments put together? What’s
going on?"

            "Sorry,
Dr. Johnson. It’s just…we’ve had some amazing news and we
lost track of time," Ilona said.

            "What
news?"

            "Erin just got married!"

            Dr.
Johnson put his bushy salt and pepper eyebrows together. It was not a promising
look.

            "Erin, please come with me right now. The rest of you, I want those instruments assembled
and warmed up in the next five minutes."

            Erin set her oboe on the music stand and followed Dr. Johnson into his little office, her
heart pounding.

            "Is
something wrong, sir?"

            "Well,
not wrong exactly, but I was wondering what this would mean for you
professionally. I’ve been talking to recruiters from symphonies all over
about you. They want to hear you play. There’s one in particular in Omaha that I thought would be a good place for you to start."

            "Sir,
I’ve never asked for any of that. It has always been my intention, after
I finished my degree, to go home."

            "Why?
You’re good enough to play anywhere." Perplexed, he raked his
fingers through his nimbus of silver hair.

            "Thank
you. But there are more important things than professional accolades."

            "Like
what?"

            "Like
being loved." It was a very personal thing to admit to a professor, but
Dr. Johnson had been her mentor from the beginning and she owed him the truth.

            "I
see. Well, what are you planning to do then?"

            "Play
in the symphony, and probably teach some lessons. My hometown doesn’t
really have a double reed teacher. I could fill in that spot. Help other kids
achieve, you know?"

            "Hmmm.
I think that’s a pretty small ambition for someone of your
talents."

            Erin had heard far too much of this argument already and lost her cool a little.

            "Why
does everyone take it upon themselves to belittle my dreams? I’m just as
capable as anyone else of deciding what I want to do with my life, and it is
my
life, damn it."

            "Sorry,
you’re right. I don’t mean to put you down, Erin. You have every
right to make your own choices. It’s just kind of surprising. Usually
people who are very talented have big professional ambitions."

            "Well,
I don’t. The most ambitious unlikely thing I’ve ever wanted was to
be part of a family. Nothing has ever come close to that in my heart."

            It
was, perhaps, saying too much, and Erin colored a little. Dr. Johnson saw right
through the angry words to the heart of a young woman who had never really been
loved as a child and saw herself as unworthy of it, and understood exactly what
she was telling him. It was heartbreaking to think that such an accomplished,
sweet, and loyal person had no idea how lovable she was.

            He
gave her a gentle hug, and sent her back to the recital hall to warm up her
oboe.

            Later
that night, Erin stretched out in her bed. Last night, she had been so tired
from nearly a week of not enough sleep that she had dropped off right away. Not
so tonight. Her little dorm bed felt very cold without Sean in it, and she missed
him.

            She
didn’t want to disturb Sheridan, in the bed across the room, but she
couldn’t help sniffling a little. It would be a month before her husband
would be able to hold her again, and that really bothered her.

            "Erin, are you okay?"

            "I’m
fine." Her tone conveyed the opposite.

            Sheridan was out of the bed in an instant, kneeling beside her friend and giving her a
warm hug. Erin’s control cracked a little more, but she tried hard to hang
on.

            "Poor
Erin. This must be really difficult."

            "You
have no idea."

            "Well,
call him, sweetie."

            "I
can’t do that. How silly."

            "It
isn’t. It’s fine. I’m sure he would love to hear your voice.
He misses you too you know."

            "I
don’t want to bother him."

            "Erin, why do you put yourself down this way? It’s not wrong or a bother for you to
call your husband and talk to him. No one would say that’s a bad thing.
Here. Take the phone. Do it."

            Erin took the phone and looked at it. She really didn’t want to be annoying, but the
thought of hearing Sean’s voice was so appealing. Torn, she looked at her
friend.

            "I
promise he’ll be glad. Just dial the number, Erin. You’ll feel so
much better if you talk to him."

            Erin dialed. She counted the rings with a pounding heart, holding her breath.

            "Hello?"

            "Hi
Sean."

            "Hey.
I was wondering if you would call."

            "Is
this a good time?"

            "Sure.
I’ve got nothing going on. Is anything up?"

            "No.
I just missed you. I wanted to talk to you for a while."

            "I
miss you too. This is a really weird situation, isn’t it?"

            "It
is. Good thing it’s temporary. What’s going on with you?"

            "I
talked to my parents today."

            "Are
they mad?"

            "Mom’s
a little hurt that we didn’t tell her sooner. Dad’s actually great
with it."

            "Oh,
okay."

            "Is
Danny right there?" His voice took on a lascivious tone.

            "Yes."

            "If
she weren’t, I would make love to you right now."

            "How?"

            "Oh
Erin, there’s so much you have to learn. It’s called phone
sex."

            Erin blushed a little.

            "Sounds
interesting."

            "Hmmm.
At least let me hold you for a while. Close your eyes baby, and imagine
you’re here. Can you visualize it in your mind?"

            "Yes."

            "Good.
You’re lying on your side in bed with me. I’m pressed up against
your back, spooning you, with my arm around your waist. Can you feel me
there?"

            "Almost."

            "Try
hard. I can almost feel you too. Now, I sweep your hair away from the side of
your neck and kiss you there."

            Erin giggled.

            "What
is it?"

            "You
left a hickey on my neck. I was so busted with my woodwind ensemble this
evening."

            "I
did? I didn’t even realize."