Page 10 of Mountain Bean Dream
Saturday night rolled around—the jazz band’s dress rehearsal—and I wore my finest black dress, black shimmery tights and flats. As per our conductor, the only thing to be noticed by the audience were the instruments, and we all had astrict code to follow. As nervous as I was to be playing in front of an audience for the first time, especially knowing my boss was going to be listening, I was also vibrating with excitement. This was my chance to do something I loved – no matter where I was living.
I’d only joined the band in the fall after repeatedly telling them I hadn’t played in a band for a while, not since I took it up just before accepting the role onShadowed Realms, mainly as a hobby to throw on my resume. They didn’t seemed to care one iota and they were happy to have another flutist, especially tonight since the other one was out with the flu.
Before leaving for the site of the concert, I glanced into the mirror to ensure I was as polished as my instrument. My natural reddish hair was in perfect waves and my makeup flawless, hiding the smattering of freckles I despised, because, in TV -land, it was all the rage with the child character I had played. There were no runs or snags in my tights and the hem of my little black dress fell to just above my knees. At least my outside looked solid and put together, I just needed to find a way to control the racing of my heart.
Blinking slowly and inhaling deeply, I opened my eyes and stared at my reflection.
“You’ve got this! Where there’s a John Williams, there’s a way.” I laughed at my own stupid joke.
Naturally, I arrived at the Sleepy Hollow Lodge late, but made it to my cushioned chair in time to get my music sheets positioned and a few practice notes in.
All the house lights were still on so as I readied myself, I scanned the audience, connecting with Elliot, Sage, and Nina. Their enthusiastic waves felt like a hug you weren’t sure you wanted, but after a second, you melted into it; it was a reassuring embrace from across the room. Sending a silent thank you with a bob of my head, I continued to search for Derek, but thankfully,I did not see him; that moment would be next weekend at the fundraiser. With a final sweep of the crowd, my gaze snagged on Jeremy in the back corner, his expression unreadable. His presence shouldn’t matter—but it did, a quiet flutter catching in my chest. How did he know?
The older conductor—a Steve Martin look-alike—dressed in a tuxedo with tails, walked onto the stage, and after a brief introduction, the house lights dimmed, and the stage lights warmed to a deep golden glow. I raised my flute to my lips, fingers poised over the keys, and watched Raine Malone tap his stick on the podium. We were off.
As I launched into the solo, time seemed to slow. The notes shimmered in the air, each one a tiny masterpiece, and the stage lights blurred as I closed my eyes, letting the music guide me. It was as if I wasn’t just playing—I was soaring. When the last note hung in the air, the audience seemed to hold their breath, and for a heartbeat, I felt like the center of the universe. Then came the applause—a wave of sound that rushed over me, wrapping me in its warmth.
* * *
An hour after the dress rehearsal, I grabbed a bag of Doritos and pulled on a pair of leggings. I headed to the river as I needed to capture and hold onto that calming feeling right now. With my hat pulled over my hair, I tossed on my winter coat and tucked a blanket under my arm before stepping outside into the cool May evening air.
Heading to the corridor that split the motel into a north and south wing, I passed by the motel office. The curtains were usually drawn unless he was at the front desk, restocking vending machines, fixing stubborn faucets, or doing whatever it was motel managers did to keep their places functional. Quietand dedicated, he had a way of blending into the background, but once you noticed him, he was hard to ignore. Jeremy was a hard worker, quiet, but fiercely dedicated to running a well-kept, if not quite aged, motel.
Slumping into the pine-green Adirondack chair with faded handrests and propping my feet up on the concrete and metal fire pit, I opened the bag of chips. Each crunch sounded so loud it broke the peace, so I set them to the side and just listened to the rushing river as the currents bubbled over the rocky base and stared up at the partly cloudy night skies.
I’d been so deep into my soul I hadn’t heard anyone approach.
“Do you want a stack of firewood?” The voice came from behind me.
Turning, I spied Jeremy standing there, eclipsing the lamppost at the end of the unit. “I’m good, thanks. I’m not staying out here long.”
He scratched the back of his neck, his fingers brushing the edge of his hoodie. For someone who ran a motel, he didn’t seem at ease with idle conversation, but that awkwardness kind of worked for him. Like a quiet unassuming guy in a rom-com who doesn’t realize he’s the love interest.
There was a long pause and he tucked his chin in. “You played great tonight.”
“Thanks. It went well, and everyone did great. It truly was a team effort.”
If tonight was any indication, the fundraiser was going to be fabulous, although we were only a small part of it. Aside from the jazz band playing two sets of thirty minutes each, there was a huge auction, a treasure chest where identical keys were sold but only one unlocked the chest, and so many others. It promised to be a night of fun.
He shifted his weight, his boots kicking a few pebbles offthe path. “You sure about the firewood? It’s a little cool.”
I snorted. “What? Sitting in the dark without a fire doesn’t scream ‘relaxation’ to you?”
His lips quirked, almost a smile. “I was thinking more ‘horror movie opening scene.’ But hey, whatever works for you.”
I laughed, pulling the blanket tighter around me. “Fair enough. But no, this is just...thinking time. Big life decisions and all that.”
As the river rushed along, I mulled over the way my life was like a deck of cards; you never knew what hand was going to be dealt in the next shuffle. Right now I was trying to stack the deck, but like a house of cards, it was always one gentle breeze from falling down. Having Derek admit his true feelings had hurt and had toppled the top level of my metaphorical house of cards, but it was still standing. I was still standing.
“Oh? More trivia knowledge?” His boots kicked at a small gathering of pebbles, pushing them off to the side of the path.
I snickered and tossed my gaze up to the stars, only seeing the crescent moon with a wispy cloud stretching across the bottom. “No, not really. Life things. Some big changes.”
“Well, sorry I can’t help out with that. I struggle with those things myself.” The tone in his voice said as much.
I could run and cower, a typical move I should’ve earned an Oscar for since Jasper was the fourth place I’d set up (and also the longest) since leaving my public life behind, or I could stay and face things head on.
Like it or not, Derek was going to be at the fundraiser, and I needed to prove something to him. But what? Prove that I could stand on my own? That I didn’t need him? That he hadn’t hurt me as much as I had been another disappointment to someone because I wasn’t what they truly needed?