“You look marvelous,” he told her, touching a wispy ringlet that had escaped her chignon to spring from her temple. “The green of your dress brings out the green tint in your eyes.”
“School color,” she muttered. Technically the velvet Empire-style gown with its long, fitted sleeves was many shades too dark to qualify as the official school color, but she liked the simplicity of it, and her sister thought it would look good against the black her students would be wearing without standing out too much. At the moment, however, Becca had other thoughts in her head. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
His pale blue eyes glowed with sympathy. “I thought it might help if we prayed together. Would you mind?”
Mind? She’d been praying since she’d awakened that morning. Oh, Lord, don’t let me cry. Oh, Lord, don’t let me faint. Oh, Lord, don’t let me mess up. Oh, Lord, make the kids behave and pay attention. Oh, Lord, get me out of this!
The young pastor bowed his head, and Becca followed suit, one hand unconsciously splayed atop her sheet music, the other gripping the white baton that her parents had given her as a graduation gift. To her shock, Davis slid an arm about her shoulders.
“Father God,” he whispered, “how I praise You for the magnificent gifts You have given this beautiful woman. Let no one leave this place tonight without understanding what a blessing the ability to make music is. Inspire Becca as never before, Father, to Your glory, and as she loses herself in the beauty of the music, let the rest of us follow so that we may know some iota of Your magnificence. You have made her for this, Lord God, and so we trust Your Holy Spirit to guide and strengthen her as she fulfills this moment in her destiny. In the name of Your Holy Son we pray. Amen.”
He hugged her tight against his side for a moment longer, saying, “Becca, this will be a momentous night. I feel it in my soul. And I will be right behind you. My sisters are saving me a seat in the front row.” Releasing her, he smiled and walked away, sliding out from behind the curtain just as several students clomped onto the stage.
Suddenly Becca became aware of the sounds and movements around her. The auditorium was filling. Her students were arriving from the warm-up in the practice room. Their accompaniment—piano, drums, violins and a clarinet—were tuning. Becca lifted a finger to her lips in an automatic command for quietness, and the clomps became tiptoes as the singers moved into place.
But she barely noticed as her thoughts whirled around Davis’s prayer.
Beautiful woman…magnificent gifts…this moment in her destiny…made for this…loses herself in the music…beautiful woman…
A calm unlike anything Becca had ever known settled over her. She smiled at the students filling the risers and saw their blinks and tilted heads as they recognized her serenity. It felt oddly like confidence. She remembered past performances, some lackluster, some quite good, some both. None had ever been disasters. But tonight’s performance, she sensed, would be in a different class altogether.
Stepping out from behind her music stand, she began to direct the preparations with gestures and whispers, moving the vocalists in closer, turning faces to her, focusing gazes. She led them through a series of deep breathing exercises while Ryan Jefford welcomed their guests. Before she moved back behind her music stand, Becca leaned forward and said softly, “Let’s knock them out of their seats.” She got several grins.
Moving into place, she lifted her baton. As the stage curtain slid open, she winked, and then she gave the cue. A wall of harmony washed over the audience and the performance really began. Six measures later, the drums came in with a low roll, followed beats later by the violins, the piano and finally the clarinet. They hadn’t gotten that sequence right one time in weeks of practice, but tonight it was perfect, as the applause afterward indicated.
As the evening progressed, Becca kept her back to the audience, as usual, while Mr. Jefford played host. Even still, she could feel Davis Latimer in that front row behind her, and in her mind’s eye she saw the wonder and appreciation on his face.
In what felt like the blink of an eye it was over. She put down her conductor’s baton on the music stand and smiled at her students.
“You’re wonderful,” she told them. She told them that every year, but this time she really meant it, and they knew it.
Then she turned to take her bow, her gaze going unerringly to Davis. Like the rest of the audience, he was on his feet and clapping, his grin as wide as his face. Becca saw one of the twins wipe tears from her eyes. The other stepped forward and offered a small bouquet of long-stemmed roses to her. Becca suddenly realized that she had become the focus of all eyes, and her innate shyness reasserted itself. Blushing, she clutched the roses to her and hurried into the wings while Mr. Jefford made sure that the accompanists received appropriate recognition. He dismissed the assembly with such words as “best ever, outdone themselves,” and “this year’s remarkably gifted choir.” As the curtain swung closed for the final time and the student singers began to scatter, Becca felt a presence at her side and turned to find that Davis Latimer and his sisters had made it backstage.