Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series (18 page)

“Music is music. Anytime you get a chance to play, grab it and savor it like a fine wine.”

She hid a smile behind her hand.

His cheeks turned red as if he realized his faux pas. “Oh, you know what I mean. At least tell me you’ll think about it.”

Sam bobbed her head from side to side weighing her options. “I guess.” Truth was, she still hadn’t decided what to do.

“Good. There’s a meeting this afternoon in the theater for everybody interested in the play. Actors, musicians, stagehands. Everybody. Mrs. Dickens wants you there especially. I told her I’d take care of it.”

“I played in the pit last year.”

“Ah, but being up on stage is quite different. I think you’ll be good at it. Go to the meeting. Don’t say no yet.”

Sam shrugged non-commitally. She wasn’t seeing Lisa until Saturday anyway. She could go to one meeting.

SAM SAT AT her desk in the living room of her suite, her precalculus book opened in front of her. She had a third of her mind on the math, a third on the
Fiddler on the Roof
meeting earlier that afternoon, and the final third on her watch. She had six agonizingly long minutes to go until it was eight o’clock and she could call Lisa. Her mind wandered back to the meeting after school in the theater. All those kids, they were so free. Some were singing, others were reciting lines from the play, and a few were dancing in the aisles. Ronnie made her sit with him and his friends. Alivia especially beamed when Sam sat down next to her. It was exciting, kind of like softball, but different.

Mrs. Dickens outlined the play for the assembled crowd. She talked about auditioning times and rehearsal schedules, but Sam’s ears perked up when Mrs. Dickens spoke about the fiddler. “The role of the fiddler,” she looked at Sam, “is metaphorical. Picture the fiddler straddling a pitched roof, left foot on one slope, right foot on the other. A precarious position, indeed. He is a metaphor for life which constantly pulls us back and forth, first one way and then another.” She glanced around at the assembled students. “Tevye, the male lead in the play,” she looked at Ronnie who was the shoo-in for the role according to Alivia, “tries hard to cling to the traditions of his people, but the world is changing so fast that he struggles to keep his balance—just like our fiddler. Every time the fiddler appears on stage, it is because Tevye is facing conflict.” Mrs. Dickens looked back at Sam. “The play opens with this symbol of struggle, the fiddler perched high on the roof.” She pointed toward the stage, high in the air.

Sam’s eyes widened at the implication. She would be the first one on the stage—the first one everyone saw.

After the brief meeting, Mrs. Dickens handed out scripts to those auditioning for acting parts and sheet music to the musicians. Sam thumbed through the sheet music and then later when she got home, showed the sheet music to Helene. Helene said a couple of the fiddler pieces looked challenging, but Sam had always been able to master difficult music in the past, why would this be any different? Sam had agreed. She could do it, but did she want to? That was the big question. Did she want to be up on the stage in front of everybody? Perched high on top of the set? Would her parents even let her do it? She didn’t mention a word to either of them at dinner. She’d tell them the next day. Maybe.

With firm resolve, Sam went back to her homework. She finished another problem and checked the time. She had one more minute until she could call Lisa. Ah, what the hell, it was close enough. She slammed her math book shut and picked up her cell phone.

She activated voice dialing and said, “Lisa.”

Within seconds Lisa answered. “Hi, baby. I miss you.”

“Same, same, same. Me, too.” Sam walked to the couch and flung herself on it. “How was school?”

“Good, but geez, I’m tired. I’ve got way too much homework.”

“I know. Me, too, and I’m a senior. Seniors aren’t supposed to have homework, are they?”

Lisa laughed. “At least Julie’s in my Algebra Two class.”

“Your first baseman?”

“Yeah, you remember her. She’s the one that wanted to double date with us last spring.”

“I can’t.”

“I know.”

Pain flittered across Sam’s heart at the sound of Lisa’s resigned voice. “Baby, you know I’ll do anything for you, but I can’t do this. Not right now. If anybody finds out about us, I’m toast. You and me? Toast.”

“Because your parents will find out.”

“Yeah.” An awkward silence grew between them, and Sam scrambled around her brain for something to fill it. “Speaking of the three musketeers, how are they?”

Lisa laughed. “We weren’t speaking of them, but they’re fine. Lynnie loves her new teacher and already started her book report. Guess which book?”

“One of the Harry Potters.”

“Good guess, but no. She’s doing one of those books from the
Dragonriders of Pern
series you gave her.”

“Anne McCaffrey. Cool. I knew she’d like them. I’ll have to find more like that for her.”

While Lisa talked about her siblings, Sam leaped off the couch and scoured her floor-to-ceiling bookshelves for something else Lynnie might like. She smiled when she found Another Fine Myth by Robert Lynn Asprin. Lynnie would love the story about the magician’s apprentice who teamed up with a demon. Sam tossed the book on her desk and plopped back on the couch.

“How does Lawrence Jr. like first grade so far?” Sam asked.

“He likes it. He said recess was awesome because they were allowed to play basketball. Bridget was cranky, though.”

“How come?”

Lisa chuckled. “Because we all got on the school bus this morning and left her home alone.”

“Oh, no. Poor Sweetpea.” Sam smiled as she pictured the feisty three-year-old.

“Yeah, she’s been clingy ever since I got home today. She has no understanding of homework.”

“I wish I was there with you and your family.”

“I wish you were here, too. Or I was there.” Something softened in Lisa’s voice. “I don’t know how I’m going to handle not seeing you every day. I miss you so much.”

“Me, too.” Sam’s voice caught in her throat. She hoped Lisa hadn’t heard it. Up until that moment, Sam hadn’t realized how lonely she was. ”Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“I think I might try out for the musical.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.” Sam grinned at the excitement in Lisa’s voice. “I went to the meeting they had after school. Mrs. Dickens gave me the sheet music.”

“I’ve never heard you play, but I know you’ll be awesome. So, you’re gonna do it, eh?”

“Maybe.” Sam glanced back at the sheet music on the stand behind her. “I think so.”

“I can’t wait. And the kids, they’re gonna love seeing you on stage.”

“Oh, God. Don’t make me nervous.”

“Sorry.”

Sam smiled at the grin she heard in Lisa’s words. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

“Mmm. Same,” Lisa said. “What, Mom? Hang on, Sam.”

Sam heard the sound of Lisa’s hand covering the phone and a blurred conversation in the background.

“Okay, Mom,” Lisa’s voice came back loud and clear. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“My mom needs me to help Lawrence Jr. with his homework. And then I have to finish mine. So, uh...”

“You have to go. I know. I have homework, too.”

“The lake weekend was amazing, Sam. I’ll never forget it.”

“Me neither.” Sam didn’t want to hang up, so she listened to the sound of Lisa breathing in the phone.

“Baby?” Lisa said.

“Yeah?”

“I’ll text you tomorrow during school, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And I’ll talk to you tomorrow night? Same time?”

“Yup, and I’ll see you on Saturday. Morning. Sunrise.”

Lisa laughed. Sam smiled at the sound. It had become one of her top ten favorite sounds in the whole world.

“Okay. Yes, yes, Lawrence Jr., I’m coming.” Lisa sighed into the phone. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Not seeing you on school nights.”

“It wasn’t?” Sam swallowed against the lump forming in her throat.

“Nope. My parents thought it was best for now.”

“That sucks.”

“I know. And Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“Same.” More.

Sam ended the call with Lisa, and glanced at her math book. She knew she should finish the assignment, but she was way too antsy. She pushed the chair back and looked toward the sheet music on the stand. Why not? It wouldn’t hurt to try some of the pieces.

She stood up, closed the door to her suite, and pulled the Stradivarius out of the locked cabinet. After tuning up and rosining, she opened the sheet music book to a song called
Tradition.

She took a deep breath and warmed up with some scales. Once her fingers were loose, she studied the first few measures and then worked her way through them.

Sam wondered how often the fiddler appeared on stage. Was it a small part or a big part? She’d have to ask Mrs. Dickens. If she decided to try out, that is.

Who was she kidding? She was going to try out.

Sam worked out some of the tricky spots in the piece, thoroughly enjoying the challenge. Satisfied with the start she’d made on
Tradition
, she turned to the next piece and worked out the phrasing for
Matchmaker
. Once she got the feel for the song, she flung her bow across the strings and danced around the room, picturing herself on stage. She was so engrossed in the music she didn’t notice the door to her suite opening until her mother was all the way in the room. Sam pulled the bow away from the strings and froze. She snuck a guilty glance at the sheet music.

“Samantha Rose,” her mother asked hand on hip, “what is that you’re playing? It’s familiar, but I can’t place it.”

“Just some, uh, sheet music Mr. Auerbach got for me.” She hated lying, but she hadn’t been ready for the question.

“What is it?”

“It’s called
Matchmaker
.”

“He’s making quite a departure from the classical pieces you usually play.” The disapproval was icy in her voice.

Sam felt bad instantly. She couldn’t let Mr. Auerbach take the fall for her cowardice. “Well, uh, actually, he suggested I get the music from Mrs. Dickens.”

“Who is this Mrs. Dickens?”

“Uh,” was all Sam could manage. She walked over and placed her violin back in its case, her mind racing to find an answer. Her parents would never approve of her participating in musical theater as an actor. They hadn’t liked when she’d played in the pit orchestra the year before. Her mother called it, “music for the masses.” It wasn’t for serious classical music connoisseurs like the well-to-do Paytons from East Valley, New York.

“Samantha Rose? I’m waiting.” Her mother folded her arms. The fact that her mother was even in her suite was weird and awkward. Her mother never came to this wing of the house.

“Mrs. Dickens is the drama teacher.”

“Drama? Don’t tell me you’re in a musical theater class.”

“No, no, of course not. We got our music in Strings today, though. We’re doing the
String Sonata in D minor
.”

“Vivaldi?”

Sam nodded and almost blew out a sigh of relief. Maybe this would distract her mother from the original question “And we’re doing Tartini’s
String Sonata in D major
. Mr. Auerbach gave the quartet some music today, too.”

“Good.” Her mother nodded, seeming pleased.

“Ronnie’s excited. The piece has a big part for him.”

“He’s that cute boy who plays the double bass?”

Sam nodded.

“Is he a close friend of yours?”

Sam did her best not to roll her eyes. Her parents had no clue, absolutely no clue whatsoever. “He’s a friend, Mother, just a friend.”

Her mother nodded, and didn’t press it. “Well, how about you? Are you excited for your last year of high school?”

Sam couldn’t help wondering what her mother was up to. She rarely asked questions about school. “Uh, yes, I guess. Susie and I have a class together.”

“That’s nice.”

Sam wasn’t sure if she should invite her mother to sit down. It felt weird to do that, so Sam simply sat at her desk and reopened her math book. Maybe her mother would get the hint.

Her mother broke the silence first. “You and I need to go shopping.”

“We do?”

“Of course. We simply must have new outfits for Switzerland. Don’t you think? Saks is calling me.”

“In Manhattan?”

Her mother nodded.

“That would be nice, Mother.”

Whenever her mother had her shopping whims, Sam was powerless. They’d probably do what they had done in the past. They would fly down to the city on a Friday evening, shop all day Saturday and Sunday, eat at expensive restaurants—or at least push their food around at expensive restaurants—and then fly back on Monday. That would stink because she wouldn’t be able to see Lisa for an entire weekend.

“When would you like to go to New York, Mother?”

“Soon, I suppose. I’ll have Daddy reserve the jet for us. Ooh, let’s stay at the Ritz Carlton again. I love the rooms overlooking Central Park, don’t you?”

“Central Park was beautiful last spring.” Sam secretly wished she could take Lisa along, but knew that would never happen. Not in a million years.

Her mother smiled, obviously satisfied with their plans. “You still need to renew your passport for Switzerland, don’t you?”

Sam nodded.

“I thought so. I’ll remind Helene you need to get that done right away.”

Sam wondered, not for the first time, if Helene would be going with them to Europe. She’d gone every other time before, but something felt different this year. Helene hadn’t talked about the trip at all.

Sam picked up her pencil, hoping her mother would let her get back to her homework.

“Now tell me. What does this Mrs. Dickens have to do with your classical music training?”

Damn. Not off the hook. “Uh...”

Her mother strode to the music stand and picked up the open book of sheet music. She closed the pages and looked at the cover. “
Fiddler on the Roof
?” She held the sheet music in front of her. “Samantha Rose, are you playing in the orchestra pit for another one of those musicals?”