Secrets and Revelations (Bellingwood #4) (24 page)

Excitement and pride
before the parade this morning had given way to complete terror in the pit of her stomach this evening. Polly wanted to go downstairs and shake the hell out of Jeff for getting her into this. She tried to imagine that he was just as nervous since he had the big solo, but that didn't matter, all she could think was that she was too old for this much panic. The band was meeting early at the park for a few last minute instructions and to assure everyone that they would get through the evening. She sat down on the edge of her bed and bent over.

"Breathe, Polly, breathe. This isn't anything new. You've been playing this music for over a month and you've got it.
The evening isn't about you. You're part of a group. Breathe, girl."

Obiwan lay down on the floor beneath her and lifted up to lick her face.

"Sorry, bud. I'm fine. I haven't played in front of people for a long time and all my friends are going to be there. If I screw something up tonight, I'll be so embarrassed."

There was a knock at her front door. When she opened it, Jeff walked in with a big grin on his face. "Are you ready?"

"No! How can you be so calm? I'm scared out of my wits!"

"Oh, you'll be fine."

"I know, I know. It's not about me. I'm only part of the group, but sheesh, how are you not in the bathroom vomiting or something?"

"I was born to play," he laughed. "Come on. We're going to be late if we don't hurry."

Polly looked herself up and down. She was fully dressed. Black pants and a white top were easy enough. She patted her back pocket and felt that her phone was there. A slim wallet was stowed in the other pocket. After the concert, Henry promised her a ride on the Ferris wheel and all the cotton candy, corn dogs and popcorn she could eat. Fair food was her favorite and there was no way she could have eaten supper before the concert.

"Let's go," she said and followed him into the hall.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"What?" she asked, patting her pockets again.

"How are you planning to play tonight?"

"Crap. See? I'm a mess."

The flute and her music were right inside on the entry table and she grabbed them and pulled the door shut behind her.

"Am I ready to go now?"

Jeff laughed at her. "I think so. You are such a dork."

She pushed at his shoulder, "Leave me alone. You got me into this and now you have to put up with me. This is all your fault."

"Don't you remember the rush at the end of a concert, when everything went well and the crowd is on their feet applauding?"

"Not right now I don't."

"It will all be worth it. You'll feel great for accomplishing something so awesome. You're going to make wonderful music, you are part of a group and look, you get to play accompaniment to my solo."

"That's my goal in life," Polly said. "To make you look good."

"I always look good," he retorted. "Tonight you even get to make me sound good!"

Jeff parked at the
elementary school and they walked the two blocks to the park. A stage had been set up for the weekend and people were already arriving to arrange their blankets and lawn chairs. When enough musicians had arrived to begin warming up as a group, the director took them through a couple of easy passages and then handed out programs. They'd talked through the order of music often enough that Polly pretty much had things in order, but she double-checked the music folder. She caught her feet bouncing with nervous energy and forced herself to stop, smiling sheepishly at Jeanie Dykstra.

"I'm so nervous," she said.

Jeanie shut her eyes and breathed deeply. "I am every year. My husband takes the kids out for dinner whenever I have an evening performance like this. The strange thing is that I don't get like this when I have to play the piano." She blew air through the flute and set it back on her lap. "Everyone in town is talking about Cindy Rothenfuss' murder. Have you heard anything?"

Polly shook her head. "No. Not really. I wish they'd figure it out. It keeps casting a pall on things. The quilt show at Sycamore House is really subdued. Marla Singer says more people than usual are coming over to see the quilts, but she thinks it is because they
hope to hear something about the murder."

"It could be that they
want to see those gorgeous horses. Your group was really impressive this morning."

"Thank you. All I did was sit in the wagon. Everyone else did the hard work."

"That man who rode on the big horse in front of you. Who is he?"

"Oh, that's Eliseo Aquila."

"Is he the one who they thought killed that veteran last spring? He was living in your barn, wasn't he?"

"When he came into town, he was in the barn for a while, yes. He's amazing with those horses, though. I hired him to be the custodian and the man works all the time."

"Martha Devins said he's teaching her daughter how to ride."

"He is. She's trading work in the barn for lessons with him. It frees all of us up to have more help down there. We all enjoy watching young people fall in love with those horses."

"They are really the talk of the town. Especially after today. I'll bet you could rent out that wagon all the time for weddings and parties."

Polly shook her head. "I don't know if we'll do that. The last thing I want to do is subject them to drunken idiots. We've already had a few of those parties at Sycamore House. One afternoon the entire bridal party was drunk before the wedding even started. If it had been my kids, I'd have canceled everything, but the worst part was that the parents were drinking too."

"Bet that marriage won't last long."

"If not, maybe we’ll get a second opportunity to rent out the auditorium," Polly laughed.

The park had been filling with people. Henry stepped up to the stage and waved at Polly. She made as if to stand up to speak with him, but he waved her back and then pointed into the crowd. She saw Lydia and Beryl furiously waving at her and returned it. Andy and Len Specek were with them. Henry waved goodbye and went back to join them

Jason was still wearing his Sycamore House shirt and lying on a blanket
, playing with his phone while Andrew was walking around the park. She saw him stop and talk to a few friends his age and then he sat down with them. Wow, everyone was here. Just about the time Polly thought her nerves might completely overtake her, the conductor stood up on his podium. He tapped his baton on the stand, raised his arms and waited for his band to be ready. A downbeat and they began to play the opening number. It was a John Philip Sousa march and that settled the band right down. They were comfortable and confident with the piece and when he moved them into the next song, Polly knew that what she felt was excitement, rather than nerves.

However, when they got to "The Woodwind Polka," she looked at the music on her stand and prayed. She'd never done it without missing at least a couple of notes. They got into the piece and she settled into the music. There was barely an opportunity to take a breath and she just
kept playing. Even though she missed some notes again, she felt good when it was finished. When she looked up at the end, she realized that Beryl had grabbed a couple of people and they were actually doing the polka around the park. "Oh, that woman!" was all she could think before the next march began.

By that point, the band had everyone involved in the program. Their conductor turned around and announced that the next piece required a little audience participation. He told them to pull out their programs and a piece of paper and the person who could name the most songs in the medley would receive a free ticket into the carnival. He lifted his baton and Polly grinned as they played through the piece.

When they finished, he turned back around and asked who had been able to name five of the songs they'd played, some for nothing more than a couple of measures. Quite a few people stood up and as he increased the number of songs, he finally got to nine and there were only two people left. Polly didn't recognize them, but he brought them up to great applause, read their lists, and handed them tickets.

The crowd was his by then and with great flourish, he introduced Jeff Lyndsay on the clarinet for "Stranger on the Shore." Jeff stood and took a quick bow to acknowledge the welcoming applause and watched for the beginning of the song. Polly didn't realize that he had memorized the piece and smiled as they began. He engaged with the crowd, inviting them to listen as his clarinet sang out
. After he played the last note, he took a deep bow, then acknowledged the conductor and the band. The crowd had surged to its feet with applause. Polly felt tears once again as she realized how proud she was of the people who surrounded her.

They played two more songs and then Bruce stepped down from the podium, turned to the audience and asked them to stand up. He pointed to the flag hanging in the park, turned back to the band and Polly felt her throat swell as they played the very familiar song. The group had been playing this for years and it was the song they never messed up. When the crowd joined in, singing the words to "The Star Spangled Banner," it was all she could do to stay in her seat and continue to play. There was silence after the last note for just a moment and more applause. The band stood and took a bow together, applauded for their director and soon she was walking off the stage.

Lydia had run up to greet her. "Oh, Polly. What a wonderful concert! I wish Aaron could have been here. And Jeff, where's that boy?" She rushed off to find him. Polly shook herself and looked around for Henry. He was trying to get away from a couple of people who had cornered him and when he saw what she was doing, put his hand out to stop the conversation and left them.

"You were kind of hot up there on that stage, Polly Giller," he laughed slipping his arm around her waist. "That makes a boy feel proud."

"I was scared out of my mind," she laughed. "I hope it gets easier the next time."

"Well, it sounded great. You didn't tell me about Jeff."

"I didn't? Oh. My bad. Wasn't he awesome?"

"I always thought clarinets were squeaky things. He made it purr."

"Don't let a clarinet player hear you say things like that. They take offense." Several of Polly's best friends in high school played clarinet. She remembered them working to bring those instruments under control.

"I'll be careful. Are you ready to eat some junk food?"

"Can we put my flute in your truck so I don't have to carry it around?"

"Let me take it. I'll be back in a few minutes. Don't go too far
, though. I want to find you when I come back."

Andrew Donovan sidled up to her. "You are pretty cool, Polly."

"Thank you, Andrew. Why do you say that?"

"You have horses and you play in a band. That was cool. My friends think you're cool too." She realized he had three boys his age standing right behind him.

"Thanks, guys. Are you going to the carnival this evening?"

"Mom said I could. We're going to ride so many rides it makes us sick to our stomachs."

"Great," she said. "Make sure I'm not anywhere around. I don't want to experience that."

"Two years ago, a high school kid threw up and sprayed the whole crowd. It was awesome," one of the boys with Andrew said.

"Uh huh," she remarked. "Awesome."

Andrew said, "I asked Mom if I could play an instrument. You know they let us do that in school this next year. I want to play the trombone."

"Wow," Polly said, "The trombone. That could be awesome. You know Will Riker played the trombone."

"The guy from Star Trek?"

"Yeah. The guy from Star Trek." The boys had found her stash of Star Trek DVDs and were watching the different series. She thought it was important for them to have a wide ranging science fiction awareness. There were still a lot of television shows and movies she wanted them to see and as long as they didn't think she was boring, they would be exposed to everything.

"Oh, that's right," he said. "In the holodeck. He always played there."