Page 128 of Symphony of Salvation

My face, instantly recognized by the lobby staff, caused a buzz. Queer looks passed between them, but thankfully no one dared question the maestro. The six-foot-tall banner was a problem in and of itself. I was certain Constance had spotted it since she turned a devious grin in my direction, but Niles had remained oblivious, more focused on quizzing me about the show.

When an usher offered Niles a program, I shooed her off with an edge of rudeness that didn’t go unnoticed.

“What is up with you? Why did you do that?” he asked.

“For reasons. Can I buy you a glass of wine?” I steered him toward the bar.

Constance wandered the grand lobby. A few staff appeared to recognize her from the Christmas performance in December.

Niles accepted a glass of wine and sipped it cautiously, eyeing me with a dissecting glare the entire time. When I took my wallet out to pay, he arched a brow. “You’re not having one?”

“Not tonight.” As much as a drink would calm my nerves, I couldn’t risk any amount of intoxication prior to a show.

The house doors opened at seven thirty. I followed Niles and Constance to the reserved seats I’d secured upfront. For the time being, I sat with them, admiring the stage, my stomach a flutter. It had been years since stage jitters had made their formal appearance. Notoriously confident under the spotlight, I was used to minor ticks upsetting my system, but the sweaty palms and steady tremble were unusual.

I waited until as close to showtime as was feasible before standing. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Now? The show starts in less than ten minutes,” Niles hissed. “They’ll close the house doors and won’t let you back in.”

“I’ll hurry.”

Constance smirked, and I offered her a wink before hustling up the aisle.

When the houselights dimmed and the stage lights brightened on the conductor’s stand, I walked into its aura. The entire orchestra had filed in already and sat quietly in their seats, instruments at hand, patiently waiting for me to guide them along this magical night.

Warmed from the applauding attention of a full audience and knowing Niles was among them, I stood taller, smiling and tipping my head in acknowledgment until the clapping dissipated.

“Good evening. I’ll keep this short since you didn’t pay to hear me talk.” A smattering of chuckles rippled through the spacious hall. “I’m Maestro Augustus Castellanos, and I’m honored to be here this evening. For those of you familiar with my work, you also know the rarity with which I share it.

“Tonight marks two special occasions. Not only am I debuting a new symphony, but I’m celebrating the launch of a very special album.” A murmur erupted in the crowd. I smiled. “Yes, you heard right.A Night of Salvation, the performance you are about to witness, is a compilation of some of my finest pieces. Ones that have been awarded top recognition in the classical music industry. Ones that have been performed in various cities worldwide. For the first time in my career, I have agreed to have them recorded and made available to all.”

I waited as the applause died down. “The featured piece on the album, however, has never been heard. You will be the first to attend its magic. I’ve titled it ‘Symphony of Salvation,’ and before we begin, I want to tell you the story of how this piece came into being.”

I paused, gathering my thoughts as I sought Niles in the audience. Making eye contact under the assault of the spotlightwas impossible, but I knew he was there, watching and listening. I wished I could see his face and know his thoughts.

“Have you ever been in love?” I asked the audience as a whole. A few whispers arose, nothing clear enough to make out. “Well, up until a few months ago, I knew not what it meant to fall in love with another person. I knew about love in a different sense. My love of music. Familial love, particularly for my daughter.” I motioned to where she sat. “I love a glass of wine at dinner and the feel of sand between my toes at the beach. I love croissants. I love snowflakes melting on my cheeks. But the love that most people experience, the bonding of two individuals in a way that goes deeper than friendship or acquaintance was foreign to me. I didn’t think I was built for love of that kind… until I met Niles Edwidge.”

The steady pounding of my heart radiated in my throat and thumped in my ears. Met with silence, I feared I’d made a grave mistake and would be booed for the first time in my life. Not knowing what to do, I kept talking.

“My life took a drastic turn at the end of last year. Circumstances brought me to a private academy on the outskirts of Peterborough. It was there in the presence of a highly underrated music teacher when I first heard the notes inside my head.”

I chuckled. “Before you think me off-kilter, hearing music is common with musicians. It’s how symphonies are born. I have no doubt Mozart or Handel experienced something similar every time they took pen to paper. But this music was different, and I quickly learned it was born from an emotion I had never experienced. The more I got to know Timber Creek’s music teacher, the more complex and beautiful the music became.”

At this point, I hesitated, knowing the truths I planned to present could never be taken back, but I’d set the ball in motion, and for Niles, I would not back down.

“There was a moment when conflict over my growing feelings put a barrier between Niles and me. It also put a barrier between the symphony inside my mind and my ability to hear it through to the end. ‘Symphony of Salvation’ is the story of growth and self-acceptance. It’s a depiction of a love I never knew could exist.” I turned to the man I couldn’t quite see. “This is for you, Niles. I’m sorry its creation took me away from you for a short time. I hope you can forgive me.”

I scanned the audience. “Shall we begin?”

Thunderous applause exploded from the packed hall. A few patrons whooped and cheered. No one booed. A warmth filled my chest as I turned to the orchestra, took up the baton, and held it at the ready.

The special performance lasted shy of two hours, and upon completion, I earned a standing ovation. Misty-eyed, I glanced to the first row and motioned for Niles to approach the stage. From what I could make out under the assault of the lights, Constance had to give him a shove.

He mounted the stairs on the side and joined me. A crescendo of applause followed as I took him into my arms, hugging him fiercely and kissing his temple.

“You’re forgiven,” he said above the noise.

“Did you like it?”

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