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Yet his calculations were wrong. It wasn’t the outer glory she wanted, but its interior cousin, the sense of being a pathway for the music and, through that, of being most fully herself. It was the best thing she’d ever known, and she wanted it back.
In itself, the public setting was nothing; you could play in a giant auditorium and be awful. But without it, you couldn’t take flight.
It was something she’d learned long ago, during her very first performance. If you kept the music to yourself, it stayed small. If you played for others, the surrender was deeper, freer, more generous. Here, I give this to you. It made the music—and the musician—more real.
That was why the concert mattered. She had drifted so far that only a huge wave could carry her back to shore.
“Are you ready for all that?” Aaron asked.
“Getting noticed?” Susannah couldn’t help laughing. “First I have to get picked.” Then she grew serious. “If they pick me, I need to do it right. Someone to record the concert, for one thing—a really good recording—and that costs money. Maybe my own publicist, since I don’t have a manager. It could add up.”
“Yes, understood.”
She studied his face. “You’re on board? Truly?”
“If it’s what you want, sweetheart.”
Oh, yes. It was what she wanted.
She saw the leapfrog of emotions cross Aaron’s features: approval of the chance that had come her way, anxiety about its unknown cost, and then a bright gleam of desire—as if her new passion had made her into that woman again, the musician with the regal presence and rapt expression, the woman he’d fallen in love with.
Copyright © 2021 by Barbara Linn Probst
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