Page 130 of Love Takes Home

“I can’t wait.” I smile at her. Changing the subject, I ask, “Aubrey meeting up with you this week?”

“Tomorrow. She’s coming to your place.”

“You going to pull out the good cello?” I ask.

She looks at me suspiciously, and I wink. “What happens if I pull out the good cello? Will it earn me some extra favors after she’s gone?”

“Now that I know I can’t break you? I think we can probably talk about some extra favors.”

“Then I think the good cello just might be coming out later,” she grins.

It’s good to be me. I’m a lucky fucker, that’s for sure.

Six Months Later

I enter the auditorium and take my seat. I look around at those sitting near me and see all of our family, old friends, and new friends. Davis and Trish are to my right, the kids next, then Lottie, Tiny, and Nat next to them. Roger and his wife are next to Quinn, Linda, Nicole, and Paula. Ranger and Elle in the row behind us, Elle talking to Abigail Thorpe. All of her sisters and their husbands are here, as well, including their mom and dad, who are sitting next to Claire and her husband. The seat next to me on the left is empty, and I wonder where Mr. Mills is. We only have ten minutes to go. Her mom is one more over, also looking at the crowd.

As the lights start to dim, he finally settles into his seat.

“You alright?” I ask him quietly.

“I needed to give my baby girl something.” He smiles at me. It’s then I notice his eyes are red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Harrison, everything is okay. Thank you for showing my baby girl that she could do whatever she wants with her life. And for making her so happy.”

He sticks his hand out formally, and I shake it, my own eyes feeling a little itchy. Someone must be cutting onions in the row behind me.

“Good evening,” a man in a suit says on the stage, getting our attention. “I’m Dean Pierce, and it’s an honor for me to be able to announce the performer tonight. I have followed this young woman for her entire career. You all are only now discovering her from her old performances on social media, but I’ve known since the beginning this woman was something special. Heck, I even tried to get her to enroll here at Briar Mountain State University. She turned me down for Julliard. I guess if a music major is going to turn you down, the only acceptable rejection is there, right?”

The audience laughs, and he clears his throat to continue.

“But sometimes life has a funny way of bringing things full circle. It took a little extra time, but she’s here. And this is exactly where she’s supposed to be. It is with great pride and a humble appreciation that I introduce to you our newest Musician in Residence, Miss Virginia Mills.”

The audience claps and the curtain goes up. Ginny is standing in the center of the stage wearing a floor length black dress, next to a chair with a music stand to her left. The instrument she’s holding isn’t the Stradivarius I helped her pack, but something new. I look over at her dad, who is crying without reservation. I hear her mom let out a sob and see her grab his hand. Yeah, he did that.

Ginny walks to the front of the stage, holding her cello. The man gives her a one-armed hug and places the mic on the stand for her so she can speak.

“Hi. I’m Ginny. My story is one of struggle and sacrifice. It’s one that so many other people can share and understand. It’s also a story of survival and strength, and finding your passion and love again.” She pauses and I swear she’s looking right at me, even if I know she can’t see me in the darkened auditorium. “I once had someone I care about very much want to know why I was wearing something that physically hurt me. I told him the line we women, and some men, have been saying for years. Beauty is pain. He responded with—and pardon his French—fuck that, beauty is beauty, pain is stupid.”

Mr. Mills gives me the side-eye and shakes his head. He knows only I could have said that to her. I shrug. “Wedding dress,” I whisper to him. He visibly shivers. He gets it.

“I’ve lived with that saying every day since and he’s right. All of us in our own way, every single person here has something that they are insecure about. Whether it’s their looks, their grades, their education, their family, their stomach growling at 2 o’clock on a Tuesday because they haven’t eaten anything in three days. Everyone in here has a fear that they’re lacking somewhere and I’m here to tell you tonight that that’s bullshit. You are perfect. You are beautiful, and you don’t need the pain to prove it.”

The audience stands up, applauding and cheering for the most beautiful woman in the world. I might whistle.

“I’m so happy to have the opportunity to play for you all tonight, in my first live performance in nine years. It’s an original composition called Harrison’s Tribute, and if any of you ever need someone to talk to or someone to just listen, I’ll be available. I’ll also be available if you want to bring your instruments and jam with me. And if I can’t help you, I certainly know a couple of women right here in Briar Mountain who can.”

“Prof!” a man yells from the back of the room.

“Ah, I see you’ve met one of them.” Ginny smiles, laughing with the others in the crowd.

Davis leans close. “I never knew she had this kind of presence in public.”

“I’m not sure she did either,” I reply.

“Sure am glad I haven’t had to kick your ass yet.” He grins.

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