Page 86 of Best Year Ever

I don’t move at all until her introduction is finished, and when Halverson begins singing, I remember to breathe. He’s great. This song is really good. And she makes it perfect. I can’t take my eyes off her, but I can hear Tessie on the other side of Sage’s empty chair. She’s squealing and crying and clapping, and even though I’m not doing any of those things, I understand the desire for all of them.

As I watch and listen to her performance, I wonder if this is something she’ll want to do more of. If standing on a stage making good music sound great will be part of her life again.

I’m all for it, if it is. I love seeing this aspect of her. I’ll be her biggest fan.

Their duet is the last official number, but Halverson comes back on stage for a couple encore songs. I’m looking over my shoulder the whole time, waiting for Sage to come back to our seats, but she isn’t back by the time the audience gives another standing ovation and the lights come back on.

At this point, the surge of people leaving the auditorium would prevent Sage from getting anywhere near me, so I just stand in front of my chair and wait. The cousin and the boyfriend say goodbye and slip past me into the stream of motion and chatter. These are all very happy concert-goers. I hear snatches of conversation about the music, and maybe I’m especially attuned, because I hear a lot of people talking about Sage. A lot of surprise and amazement about how that song has never sounded so beautiful.

Nate Markham and London Worthington push their way out of the stream of exiting audience and step into my row to talk to me for a minute, London giddy with happiness about the concert. She talks for a few minutes about Halverson’s voice, about how she’s loved him for years.

“And how about that violin part? Do you know Sage? She works here,” London says.

My smile might give me away, but there’s no reason to keep anything a secret. I don’t mind if everyone knows about Sage and me. In fact, I love the idea. “I do know her. We’re kind of dating.” I lean in as though I’m giving her the scoop. “I’m crazy about her.”

London claps, and Nate slaps my back in congratulations.

It feels great to be with people who are happy for me. It feels great to talk about Sage. Almost as great as it will feel to have her beside me again.

I look toward the stage in case she comes out that way and avoids the press of people going the other direction.

I don’t see Sage, but enough people have cleared away that I can see Wanda sitting in the second row talking to a guy in a suit. The crowd has thinned enough that I can make my way forward without actually pushing past anyone’s shoulders. I say hello to a few more of the faculty on the way toward Wanda. Desi Chappell and Hank Grantham wave as we meet in the middle of the rapidly clearing auditorium. Desi stops me to gasp at how amazing Sage was.

“Did you know about this, that she was going to stand up there and play with him?” she asks. “I’ve never known Sage to keep a secret.” The way she eyes me suggests Sage hasn’t keptmemuch of a secret the last few weeks.

“If I tell you I knew about it, will you assume Sage kept quiet because she wanted you to be this surprised?”

Desi smiles. “I will, as always, give her the benefit of the doubt. Honestly, though, I assume she didn’t tell me because she wasn’t sure she’d really get up there and do it.”

I lift one shoulder in half a shrug. “Not impossible to believe, but I think she was actually excited about this. Nervous but not panicking. Ready to stand on the stage again.”

“It’s so great to see Sage getting excited about things.” She gives my arm a pat, a gesture she might have learned from Wanda, and levels a look at me that says she’s not only talking about violin performance.

“Agreed,” I say, and she grins.

Hank, who has never been this quiet this long, says, “Cheers, mate.”

As soon as they walk away, I hear him ask Desi, “What’s going on with Sage and the doctor?”

If we’re the topic of a few conversations tonight, I don’t mind at all.

Still no sign of Sage coming out from backstage, so I walk toward Wanda. She’s still sitting, and Dexter Kaplan, the theater teacher, stands in front of her, listening to something Wanda’s saying and nodding. The photography teacher, Joey Harker, stands at his shoulder grinning. As I get closer, I can hear Wanda giving Dexter suggestions for lighting the winter show.

“And if we can manage a few confetti cannons at the end of a big number, that will thrill the audience.”

Dexter smiles. “If the lady wants confetti, the lady gets confetti. Consider it written into the script.”

He leans over and kisses Wanda’s cheek, and Joey does the same. “Goodnight,” Joey says. They both wave and say hello as I replace them at Wanda’s side. I slip into the chair next to her, and feel relieved that there’s an oxygen tank at her feet.

I point to it. “It’s traveling with you?”

She gives it a little pat. “Sometimes.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me, too. I thought I’d be embarrassed, but I’m not. Look, I’m an old lady, and if I need a prop now and then, I’ll take it. Tonight’s a big night. I wanted to be sure my brain was topped off and working at full capacity.”

“You did a great job in your introduction.”

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