Composing Amelia (17 page)

To hear her talk about it, LA was heaven on earth. Everything was fantastic. He was happy for her—he didn’t want her miserable, obviously—but it would have been nice to hear that, while things were going well, they’d be better if he was there. But when it was his turn to report on life in Nebraska, he ended up doing the same thing. He didn’t want to sound needy, as if all he did was sit around pining after her—not if she wasn’t pining on her end. He was already struggling with worry that their marriage didn’t mean as much to her as it did to him, given how easily she’d thrown around the idea of divorce. He didn’t want to scare her away. So the job was “challenging, but in a good way” and it was “great to be able to finally do what I love.” The apartment was “spacious and bright—makes the studio look like a cave.” The weather was “a welcome change from the predictability of Southern California—can you even say they
have
real weather there?”

Hearing the updates on Jill and Dane compounded his misery, especially the way Amelia described them. It was clear from her report that living with a pregnant woman had done nothing to jump-start her own maternal longings. Quite the opposite, in fact. “You should see how sick she is. And it’s
all the time.
I’d rather be celibate the rest of my life than go through that for nine months! And, oh my gosh—the stuff. The insane amount of
stuff
you apparently have to have to take care of a baby. The hall closet is completely packed with all this random gear. She hasn’t even had her shower yet and they’ve already run out of room to store it all.” He could practically hear her shuddering in disgust.

As he listened to her rant, Marcus’s eyes caught sight of the flyer he’d left on the dining room table as he passed it on his route around the apartment. Part of him wanted to mention it to her, but the practical side of him knew that Amelia might think he was trying to manipulate her, and the harder he pushed her about coming to Wheatridge the less likely it was that she ever would. He picked up the flyer and just stared at it as he continued his meandering pace. He’d pulled it from the plastic box mounted to the “For Sale” sign he’d seen while taking a new route home from work. The house was small, but sat on a quarter acre and was within walking distance to downtown. The pictures on the flyer showed hardwood floors that gleamed in the sun and quaint rooms with big windows and fancy crown molding. Details like wainscoting on the lower half of the dining room walls, a fully finished basement, and an updated kitchen with stainless steel appliances gave the house both charm and bonus points for livability. But what he knew would really reel Amelia in was the petite grand piano that sat in the front window and came with the house.

If only he could tell her about it.

When they’d hung up, Marcus stuck the flyer to the refrigerator door. Despite the unlikelihood that it would still be on the market when they were looking to buy, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. It gave him warm thoughts of his and Amelia’s future—of fires in the fireplace while a winter storm raged, of evenings spent reading in the living room while Amelia practiced for her next gig. And even though Amelia’s thoughts on the matter were clear, he couldn’t help picturing a redheaded girl sliding down the hall in her socks into her daddy’s arms.

She’s going to change her mind eventually, right, God? You’ll bring her out by the summer, surely.
Until then he’d ask Ed for a recommendation for a Realtor. It wouldn’t hurt to start getting all their ducks in a row. Maybe God would save that house for them if Marcus showed Him just how hard he was willing to work for it.

Amelia came home from her deli job feeling oddly anxious. It was an emotion she’d been struggling with all day, and while she figured it would get better after she left work, she could barely concentrate with the flurry of jittery activity in her stomach.

It had to be opening night that was causing all the commotion. She pulled off her jacket and headed straight for her keyboard. The music for
Pippin
was spread across the music stand, and she launched into “Corner of the Sky” without warming up, hoping the playing would calm her down. It was her favorite song in the show—she could relate to Pippin’s longing for purpose and fulfillment, and Jeff’s voice soared when he sang it, making it even more enjoyable to play in rehearsals. But tonight would be the last night they rehearsed. Tomorrow was opening night.

When she reached the end of the song, Jill’s voice startled her from her thoughts of the performance. “Sorry I scared you,” she said when Amelia spun in surprise. “That sounded great, by the way.”

“Thanks. I didn’t wake you up or anything, did I?”

Jill smiled and rubbed a hand over her belly, which was just beginning to swell. “No, no worries. I love listening to you play.”

“You should get your violin out one of these days; we could duet.”

Jill let out a snort. “Yeah right. Do you know how long it’s been since I played?”

“Too long.”

“Hm. Maybe.”

Jill had been one of Juilliard’s finest when they’d attended together. They’d played together all the time—Jill had been the only person Amelia could stand to play with. But she’d broken under the pressure at the school, and after graduating she’d put away her instrument “for good.” Amelia hoped she’d be able to coax her to take it out again someday.

She thought of her mother. Just like Jill, she had given up on her talents. Amelia didn’t want that for herself. She found so much peace in her music, so much fulfillment. She prayed in that moment that her passion would never fade the way theirs had.

Amelia returned her gaze to Jill. “So what’s up then?”

Jill shifted against the doorjamb. “Tomorrow they’re launching the new Saturday service at church. I wanted to see if you’d go with us.”

“I can’t—opening night, remember?”

Jill smacked her forehead. “I
knew
there was something going on. I told Dane I had a feeling you’d be busy. I can’t believe I forgot that, I’m sorry.”

Amelia chuckled. “Hey, when you spend most of every day puking in the bathroom, you get a free pass on remembering what day it is.”

Jill gave a wan smile. “Thanks.”

“I won’t even be offended if you don’t make it to a performance. And I mean that. I know how sick you are.”

“Thanks. I really want to try to make it, though. I’ll take the seat closest to the door.”

Amelia smiled. “There you go.”

Jill’s warm expression faded. “We miss you at church.”

She smirked. “You see plenty of me here, don’t you?”

“C’mon, Ames, I’m being serious. The folks in the small group, the music-team people—whenever I make it there I get asked a thousand times where you are.”

Amelia shrugged. “Sundays are the only days I get to sleep in, and the only day that I don’t have rehearsal or work. I have to take a day to just veg.”

“I know, but still. You need Christian community.”

I do?
were the first words in Amelia’s head, but she kept them inside for fear of confirming Jill’s suspicions about her lame spirituality. Honestly, she didn’t see why Christian community was any better than any other community. It wasn’t like they sat around talking about the Bible all the time. The only difference between the people at church and the people in the theater troupe was that the church people didn’t swear as much. Oh, and the theater people didn’t pray aloud before meals. Big deal.

“I have Christian community—I live with you guys.”

Jill rolled her eyes. “That’s not the same.”

“Why not? It’s better than nothing, anyway. Seriously, Jill, I do get what you’re saying, but I think you’re concerned over nothing. I know we both have plenty of memories of the artsy people we hung out with back in college. I know as a whole that group wasn’t the most wholesome. But this is a job; it’s adult and professional. We’re working, we’re busting our rears trying to make it in this business—no one has time to waste like we did in school. So really, you don’t have to worry about me being pulled over to the dark side or something.”

Jill studied her for a moment with tired eyes, then nodded. “I hear you. I hope you don’t think I’m hounding you or anything.”

Amelia smiled. “Of course not. You’re my friend, you care, I get it.”

Jill nodded. “Cool. I’m going to talk to Dane about coming to the show.”

“Great! I’ll save you the worst seat in the house. It’s the closest to the bathroom.”

Jill chuckled and wandered away, leaving Amelia to wonder why it was so all-important to Christians to surround themselves with even more Christians. To Amelia, people were people; she didn’t care what they believed in. And sometimes it felt easier being around non-Christians—she didn’t have to worry about saying or doing something that would make them question her beliefs. Her own doubts where more than enough to contend with.

By Saturday night, Amelia’s nerves were barely holding it together. She’d never felt this anxious before a performance, not even her Juilliard audition. She went to the theater early to rehearse, hoping it would calm her, but instead it drove her to full-on dread. Her fingers tripped over themselves, missed keys, fumbled during quick fingering changes. By the time Ross and Gabe arrived, Amelia was nearly in tears.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine,” Ross said, massaging the knots from her shoulders. “You need to get away from the piano, not spend more time at it. Go take a walk or something; you have plenty of time.”

She turned and gave Ross a nervous smile, then heaved a deep sigh, hoping to smother the butterflies, but it didn’t work.

She let him rub her shoulders a bit more, appreciating the gesture and praying it made a difference while trying to ignore the way his touch warmed her blood. When he left to help Gabe hunt down a missing prop, she stood, shaking the feeling of intoxication from her head, and took a walk around the block, wishing the LA air was cleaner so that every deep breath didn’t taste like exhaust.
I’ll bet the air in Wheatridge is purer than Mother Mary,
she thought, remembering how Marcus continually waxed eloquent about the small town. But then the thought of Marcus brought tears to her eyes. He’d been at every performance she’d had since they’d met. It broke her heart that he wouldn’t be there tonight.

She hadn’t let herself think about it much, but his presence had always been such a clear communication of how much he loved her and appreciated her talent that
not
having him there, even though she knew the reason, felt like a deliberate rejection. She’d have to get used to it if she wanted to tour—he couldn’t follow her around the country like a groupie. But she’d never realized how many ways she’d miss him when she let him go alone to Nebraska.

I can’t think about this now.
She wiped tears from her eyes and rolled her head and shoulders, trying to work out the tension. A glance at her phone told her she had less than fifteen minutes before the curtain went up. She stuffed her hands into her pockets along with her phone and walked back to the theater to take her place. As she’d told Jill, this was professional. No angst allowed.

Ross spotted her as she entered the backstage area. “Feeling better?”

She nodded and lied, “Yeah, much. Thanks.”

He smiled and gave her a hug. “Break a leg.”

“You, too.”

She left her jacket in the dressing room and went to the orchestra pit to warm up with the others. The house lights were halfway up, and she could see pockets of people scattered around the red velvet seats. It wasn’t a sold-out show by any means, but they’d had better sales than they’d expected for their first show, so everyone was hopeful that the launch might receive more attention than they’d planned. Amelia tried to be encouraged by the people she saw coming in through the doors and down the aisles to their seats, but instead they fueled her nerves’ dance of fear. She shook out her hands and rolled her shoulders.
C’mon, relax already.

When the lights dimmed, Ross stepped up to the conductor’s stand and a shot of adrenaline jolted Amelia’s butterflies to a standstill. Baton raised, he gave each member of the band a quick look, ending with Amelia, to whom he also gave a wink, then cued them into “Magic to Do,” the show’s opening number. Once the production was actually under way, Amelia felt her body settle in to the familiar rhythm of performing: Play a song, take a break, play a song, take a break. In between numbers in the first act, Ross leaned over her keyboard and whispered, “Feeling better?”