by Ginny Aiken
As if there were no issues, and perhaps there were none, Baldovino began to talk about bows. “Before I leave Miami,” he said, “I would like to buy one of your bows.”
Jack met his gaze. “Are you trying to repay me for the Alono?”
Baldovino laughed. “I daresay a bow wouldn’t come close to what the Alono is worth.”
Jack acknowledged that with a nod. “True. But the best ones are expensive.”
“I’m aware of that,” Georgio said. “My bows are made by French masters—likely your teachers.”
Jack was aware that the sale of one of his best bows meant he would have no business worries for quite awhile. It meant his business could grow slowly without his worrying about it. Any other time Jack would be overjoyed at what this man just said.
At the moment, however, another thought burdened his mind. Baldovino would buy his bow. Baldovino would be Eva’s beau.
He didn’t know if he could get through this dinner gracefully.
“My cue,” Eva said. She pushed away from the table and walked up onto the stage. She reached for the violin lying atop the piano, then began to play, “There’s a Sweet, Sweet Spirit in This Place.”
Jack stared at Eva. She was not playing her violin. The tone had to be either the Alono … or the Strad. Feeling as she had about his having the Alono, he felt this had to be Baldovino’s Strad.
His spirit was anything but sweet at the moment. He took a deep breath and told himself to accept the inevitable and prepare for the worst.
Baldovino kept glancing at him with what appeared to be a twinkle in his eyes. Maybe it was just the candlelight. Maybe it was a gloat that the best man won. Perhaps Baldovino was the best man … for Eva.
When Eva returned to the table, Jack didn’t ask if she’d played the Strad. Over salad, Baldovino asked how Jack’s business was going. After some idle chitchat, Al came over. After greeting them, he spoke primarily to Baldovino. “I heard you’ll be leaving soon. Just wanted to say how much I’ve enjoyed meeting you. Your concert was fabulous. And I appreciate how happy you’ve made my granddaughter these past weeks.”
Georgio stood and shook hands with Al, expressing his gratitude for all he’d done, including having such an adorable granddaughter. Al returned to the Alono family table. Eva seemed to concentrate on her salad, making only a few remarks here and there. Jack suspected her being unusually quiet meant she was embarrassed for his having declared his undying love for her.
Roberto Alono then took the microphone and after a few words, he and Bev began their flamenco dance while waiters removed salad plates.
During the main course, Baldovino took the subject where Jack hadn’t expected, but had hoped and prayed about.
“I want to thank you both for the time and attention you’ve given me. And you, Jack, for the Alono. If you would take money for it, I would gladly pay it.”
Jack shook his head.
Baldovino nodded and smiled. “I do want you both to know that I’m not some infidel. I have attended church. I have read much of the Bible. I am familiar with the great hymns and spiritual music.”
He gestured with his hands, including his fork.
“Almost everyone knows of Handel’s Messiah. I have played those great religious songs. Have heard them sung. I know the words. I think they’re wonderful. How can anyone listen to beautiful music and say there is no God? It is beyond man. My playing is a result of many factors, and yet it is still beyond me. I am as amazed as my fans at the beauty of music and the ability of a person to be a part of it.”
Jack didn’t take another bite while Baldovino was expressing his belief in God. This had turned out to be much bigger than his own personal wants. An eternal soul lay in the balance. When Baldovino paused to take another bite, Jack said, “Almost everyone believes there is a God. That’s not the main point.”
Baldovino lifted a finger while chewing, then swallowed. Then he nodded. “I understand that now. I never doubted that Jesus maybe was the Son of God. Who else does so much for humanity than those who believe that? I thought that was one way to God—not the only way.” He sighed and shook his head. “I didn’t know one needed to take a stand on it.”
He tackled his food again, so Jack decided to do the same. If Baldovino understood it, then what more was there to say? The matter now lay between him and God.
Eva excused herself from the table without having eaten much of her food.
As soon as she was a few steps away, Baldovino leaned toward Jack. “I know you love her.”
How quickly a subject could change from the spiritual to the personal. What could he say? He wasn’t sorry. He didn’t have to explain his actions to Baldovino. Or did he? He could try. “If I had known—”
“No. No.” Baldovino lifted his hand. “That was just an observation. I wonder … do you think you and I could be friends?”
Was this guy rubbing it in? “I don’t know,” Jack said. “How involved were you with the woman I love?”
“Ah!” Baldovino said. “I do not kiss and tell.”
Jack felt like punching the guy in the face. However, maybe Baldovino felt like doing the same to him.
“I will say,” Baldovino began, “Eva is a masterpiece. What does one do with a masterpiece? Perhaps you were inclined not to play a fine musical instrument. But I … hey, am a master of performance.”
He raised his right hand with his index finger like one making a very fine point. “Wait! Wait!”
Jack wasn’t sure what to make of the egotistical, triumphant attitude of Baldovino that turned playful. The violinist shook his head and gave Jack a look of one reprimanding another.
Baldovino laughed then, and Jack knew it likely was at his own reddening face. “You have nothing to worry about. I happened upon the garden at Vizcaya and witnessed you and Eva making emotional music together. That kind of melody has not existed between her and me. Besides, one of the reasons I took these few weeks away from people and activity in which I am normally involved was to ponder the relationship with a woman who has been special to me for some time. A serious commitment would involve changes in careers of one or the other of us. She is an acclaimed soprano with a touring philharmonic. I have studied the relationship of you and your Eva.”
“Studied?”
Baldovino nodded. “You see, I came here to get away from Maria and her morality faith. I prayed to God that if there was something to the Jesus thing, then let me know. Then He smacked me in the face with it at every turn, beginning with the first night when Eva played an invocation, then her parents expressed their faith, and on it went. Then your giving me the Alono and a sermon.”
The two of them laughed lightly. Jack loved the way God could work in lives when humans felt so helpless. “I think you’ve played a few games there.”
“Well,” Baldovino said with a lift of his aristocratic chin. “The relationship between you two fascinated me. It reminded me of my own with Maria. But I will say I enjoyed spending time with Eva. She helped me understand Maria. I believe Eva and I have become friends.”
Jack was having trouble processing what was taking place. Then his attention turned to the stage, where Eva had again taken the microphone.
She announced to the quieting patrons that there was a special surprise tonight. She introduced Baldovino, who rose to the rousing applause and made his way to the stage. He reached for the violin and bow that lay on top of the piano while Eva returned to the table. Jack watched her expression as she gazed at Baldovino with unabashed appreciation. Or was it … something else?
Baldovino said he and Eva hadn’t fallen in love. But … could he speak for Eva?
Baldovino began to speak over the microphone. “I will be playing on an Alono violin, one of the finest in the world. Also, I would like to play in tribute to the maker of the violin, the one who gave me this priceless instrument, and the one who gave me weeks of pleasure when I was a stranger in your city. Most of all, this is an answer to the Maker of my soul.
”
Jack knew by the second note that Baldovino was playing “Amazing Grace.” Eva faced him then and looked straight into his eyes. He couldn’t read the expression, however. The tears, from her eyes, or his own, perhaps both, obscured visibility.
He closed his eyes and thanked God that a soul had been saved from eternal separation from his Maker. One in a position to tell a wide audience of their need for Jesus Christ. The amazing sound of music that enveloped the room from a master violinist expressed with indescribable beauty the grace of God.
Eva looked up at Georgio as he stood at the table, violin case in hand. “I will not stay for dessert,” he said. “I will say good-bye, but I hope we keep in touch.”
Eva stood, and so did Jack, who shook Georgio’s hand. Eva hugged him, and he kissed her cheek.
“Thank you both,” he said. “If you will excuse me now, I have an important call to make to someone else who has been concerned about my soul. If things go as I hope, then perhaps we can be friends as couples.”
Eva looked after Georgio until he was out of sight. He had filled her life in so many ways. She could see now that God had a purpose in it, too. That was a lesson she must remember—that people who come into our lives may not be for our sake only, but for their eternal souls. She was grateful for that special man who had touched her life in such a beautiful way.
“Eva,” Jack said. “You’re ignoring me.”
With a sideways glance, she shrugged. “How long did you ignore me?”
“Oh, no.” He groaned. “You’re going to make me wait four years before you tell me if there’s a chance for us?”
“Four years?” She huffed. “You ignored me even before that. So … just give me time. I’m … thinking.”
“Okay,” he said. “I can sit here for four, six, eight years. However long it takes.”
Eva picked at the dessert that was set before her, knowing that Jack had begun to eat his. She had wondered how to tell Jack that she loved him, too. Somehow she couldn’t just blurt it out. That simply wasn’t romantic enough.
She’d returned to trying to make a great Alono. After all, that was her name as well as Grandpa’s. She’d looked at the plaque Grandpa kept over one of his workbenches. She’d read the verse hundreds of times—
Now finish the work, so that your eager willingness to do it may be matched by your completion of it, according to your means.
For if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what he does not have.
2 CORINTHIANS 8:11–12
Maybe she could make the best violin she could and give it to Jack to replace the Alono and to show him she no longer resented his having had it but was grateful to Grandpa’s wisdom in making it an object of one’s witness to one’s faith.
Suddenly, Jack rose from his seat, tossed his napkin on his plate, and strode away from the table. Eva drew in a quick breath. Had he given up? So soon? Had she behaved like a silly schoolgirl, when he would expect a woman to return his love? Should she run after him?
The next thing she knew, he’d hopped up onto the stage and grabbed the microphone. “This is unconventional and not part of the program,” he said. “So feel free to leave if you wish. I can’t perform like the great Georgio Baldovino, but I want to express my love with my music to the one who can turn my life’s song into one of beauty or one of despair. The last time I heard this song, I was not ready to accept true love nor was I capable of giving it. This is for the love of my life. I want this to be … our song.”
Eva stared as he sat down on the piano stool, stretched out his arms, placed his hands on the keys, and began not only to play but to sing “So in Love.”
Eva laid her fork down and put her hands on her lap. When Marco came near, she gave him her car keys and instruction. He nodded and grinned.
When Jack finished, he came to the table. With his hands on the edge, he said, “I can’t wait four years. I can’t even wait four minutes. Do I stand a chance that you could love me?”
Eva tried to look demure. “Could you meet me on the back veranda? I will then give you my answer in about four seconds.”
“I hope it will be accompanied by three words,” he said.
She smiled demurely. “Follow me.”
Outside, she picked up the violin she’d had Marco put on a table and walked over to a shadowed spot, lighted only by the moonlight and twinkling stars.
She began to play “So in Love,” and Jack joined in with the lyrics of being “close to you beneath the stars.” He came nearer, singing, “So in love with you am I.”
He took the violin from her and laid it aside and then took her in his arms.
“I love you, Jack,” she said. “Since the first time I saw you. Oh, I think it was a crush at first, but it grew. Even when I tried not to love you, I did.”
He held her. “I’ve always loved you, too, Eva. As a young girl, as a friend. And now I love you as a woman. I want us to build a life together. To marry, have children, love each other.” He took a deep breath and took on a troubled look. “I couldn’t give you the Alono. I can only offer my heart, my lifetime commitment, my love.”
“That’s all I want,” Eva said.
This time, she knew she responded to his kiss, perhaps even initiated it.
Georgio could play the Alono. Jack played the strings of her heart.
And she could name that tune. It was love.
YVONNE LEHMAN
Yvonne Lehman, bestselling author of more than 3,000,000 books in print, founded and directed the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference for twenty-five years and is now director of the Blue Ridge “Autumn in the Mountains” Novelist Retreat. She has joined Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas as Acquisitions and Managing Editor of Candlelight Romance and Guiding Light Women’s Fiction. She earned a master’s degree in English from Western Carolina University and has taught English and creative writing on the college level. Her recent releases include a three-book series set in Savannah, Georgia, (Harlequin Heartsong) and Hearts of Carolina series of eight novels (four in North Carolina, four in South Carolina). In April 2014, her 50th novel Hearts That Survive—A Novel of the TITANIC (Abingdon) released, and she signs periodically at the Titanic Museum in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. Her first non-fiction book is Divine Moments (Grace Publishing), a compilation of 50 articles written by various authors. She blogs at www.christiansread.com and Novel Rocket Blog.
SUDDEN SHOWERS
by Gail Sattler
Chapter 1
Sharmane Winters leaned back on the park bench. Today was the first day of her summer vacation. Originally she had planned to drive up-country and explore the scenery, stopping for the night wherever she happened to be at suppertime. Unfortunately, her car now sat in her mechanic’s lot awaiting a very expensive part which, upon its arrival, was going to eat up most of her vacation money and all of her one-week vacation.
Instead of sitting at home feeling sorry for herself, Sharmane intended to make the best of it. While she tried thinking of something to do that didn’t involve her car, she grabbed a book and headed to the city park.
With birds chirping in the branches overhead and children screaming in the playground in the distance, Sharmane settled in and submerged herself in the lives of the characters. Totally engrossed as the plot thickened, she purposely ignored the darkening sky until a peal of thunder sounded in the distance, forcing her to pay attention.
Raindrops rustled the leaves as Sharmane raised her head to the thick clouds. A louder boom of thunder sounded as the patter of the rain increased to a steady drone and a flash of lightning lit the sky. Sharmane counted the seconds before the boom, trying to gauge how close the storm actually was.
The drizzle changed to a torrent. Sharmane abandoned the bench and huddled next to the trunk of the large oak in an attempt to keep dry until it passed. Since the sun had been shining brightly when she left, she had ignored the forecast and left her umbrel
la behind, a decision she now regretted.
Since she could no longer read, she fished through her purse for a scrap of paper to use as a bookmark but accidentally dropped the book. She picked it up and began to page through to find where she left off as more lightning flashed, followed by an immediate peal of thunder.
A large hand wrapped around her arm. “Come on!”
Sharmane screeched and yanked her arm away. A tall, wet man stood in front of her.
She hugged her purse to her chest, mentally preparing herself to hit him with it. “What are you doing?” she squeaked in a vain effort to sound calm, positive the stranger could hear the rapid hammering of her heart above the drone of the rain.
“Trying to get you out of here.”
Sharmane backed up squarely against the tree, prepared to kick him if she had to, even though she doubted her soft sneakers would do much damage. Another bolt of lightning flashed, accompanied by a boom of thunder directly overhead. The stranger extended his hand, but she didn’t take it.
He stood about ten inches taller than she did, and his wet clothing molded to his body emphasizing his height and the width of his broad shoulders, making the idea of opposing him almost laughable. If he wanted to, Sharmane had no doubt he could pick her up and throw her over his shoulder and carry her wherever he wanted, caveman style, with very little effort.
She concentrated on his face, hoping the unwavering eye contact would make him back off. That was a mistake. His eyes were a soft shade of sable brown, almost the same color as his hair, which lay stuck to his forehead. She wondered if when it was dry, his hair and eyes would be the same unique color. His lips were tightly drawn, making his lower lip protrude slightly, like a little boy pouting, except he was far too large and handsome for that.
“Don’t you know that the most dangerous place in a lightning storm is under a tree? Do you want to become another statistic? We’ll be safe inside one of the stores across the street.”