Libby smacked him lightly on the arm, then rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not saying a thing.” But inside she glowed.

“So the girl wants a performance. Hmm. I can’t afford to have an unhappy fan. I believe this calls for an impromptu show.”

He led her to a clearing surrounded by tall pines. “Miss, here is your front-row VIP seat. The concert will begin in just a moment.”

Peter walked a good twenty feet away and hid behind a clump of brush. “No peeking. This is backstage and strictly off-limits to general ticket holders.”

Libby turned her head away and held back a smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he roared in a mock announcer’s voice. “I mean, girl in the front row sitting on the ground.”

Libby threw a pinecone at him.

“Hey, I haven’t started yet! You can’t boo until I do something.”

She leaned back on her hands. She couldn’t wait to see what he did next.

“Girl in the front row, I present to you . . . the Jamieson brothers! I mean, Peter Jamieson!”

He sauntered out from behind the brush making faux roaring noises. “The crowd goes wild for Jamieson. Rrrrrr.” He walked to center stage, in front of a bush, and picked up a stick for a microphone.

“Jamieson has entered the building.” He raised his hands toward the sky and let loose another crowd roar.

“The two-million-megawatt lighting system kicks up. Spotlights search the arena for the star. Lasers ripple through the air. Fog rises around the stage. The intro music builds.” Peter motioned dramatically to the trees and bushes around them as if this were the real deal.

“The cheers in the arena are deafening!” He waved his hands in the air again, making another rrr sound.

Libby laughed. Peter stepped forward onto his imaginary stage.

“The star! The legend! Feast your eyes on the world’s most talented singer, PETER JAMIESON!” He roared into the open expanse of nature.

“Girls are fainting at the mere mention of his name,” he whispered to the side.

Libby laughed and rolled her eyes as Peter paced his mock stage, setting the scene.

“First starts the tinkling of piano keys; the lights pick up the beat.” His fingers played the imaginary piano and then motioned at pretend lights.

“Bass guitarist, Garrett, sadly, a sub-par performer, enters the mix.”

She giggled.

“Next, lead guitarist, adolescent voyeur, Adam, adds his soulful sound. And then . . .” Peter held the fake microphone like a pro and started to sing.

Peter’s pure voice rang through the woods. Libby watched, so overwhelmed by his talent that the words didn’t register. All she could do was watch his moves, his stance, and listen to his amazing voice. Libby sat dumbstruck in the pine needles and leaves.

“Here’s where the drums take the beat, ch ch cha, ch ch cha, ch ch cha.” He played the imaginary drum. “The guitars come in, tinka ting, tinka ting, and Peter Jamieson fades to the back, giving his mediocre brothers a chance to shine.” He rewarded her with a wink.

“And then, the melody takes back the night.” He stood atop an old, fallen log and sang, his entire body creating the percussion that went unheard. It captivated Libby and transported her to the concert hall.

“Then, to seal the deal, the Boy Wonder awes the audience with his world-class flying eagle.” Peter jumped high into the air above her, reached out, and touched his toes.

Libby’s eyes followed him like an awestruck fan.

He landed and picked up the song again, gesturing the percussion and guitar licks as he went.

Peter’s talent far exceeded her wildest imagination. He was an incredibly gifted performer, and she’d never understood it until now. Sure, he was well-known, but it never affected her. Time and distance was their barrier, nothing else.

His cute, cocky performance revealed only a small hint of the talent flowing just beneath the surface. Hisvoice held power and confidence and moved her to tears.