Page 7 of The Night the Stars Went Dark

“What’s going on?” Dad turned to face me. “You’ve played on stages with huge audiences. I watched you lull those admissions people at Juilliard. You’re never like this.”

“It’s just. This is it.” I bit my lip. “This is what we planned for. What Mom planned for,” I whispered. “What if I don’t make it?”

“You will,” he insisted.

“But what if I don’t?” I dropped my eyes and stared at my feet. I was perfectly dressed in my concert black.

“Then we go somewhere else, you practice more, and we try next year.” He paused before continuing. “That’s not going to happen, though.”

“You’re always so sure about me.” I rolled my eyes.

“You’re my daughter. I know you. I knew the day you were born, and I looked at those long fingers that we’d be here one day. Lift that chin and show that panel who’s boss.”

“You’re right.” I rolled my shoulders back and lifted my chin with confidence. I tucked my music bag under my arm and strode over to the steps that led into the admissions hall. We were greeted and directed to a room much like I’d waited in every year when I went to summer music camp. This time, my father seemed more human and less like this untouchable hero I’d always seen. He smiled proudly when they called me in, and I gave one final wave as I disappeared into the concert hall.

“Good morning, Miss Vaughn.” A dark-haired gentleman sitting about halfway up in the seats greeted me.

“Hello,” I replied as I stopped in the middle of the stage. The stage lights were almost blinding, making it hard to see how many people were watching.

“I see you’ve studied at Juilliard for the past ten summers. That’s impressive.” He flipped over a paper in front of him. I’m guessing it was my application for admission.

“Yes, sir. My dad always pushed me to study with the best.” I clasped and unclasped my hands. My nerves were coming back, and I couldn’t tell if this guy liked what he’d heard or not.

“You know, we produce the best here. Are you ready to work for that goal?” He seemed amused.

“Yes, sir.” I nodded.

“Let’s hear what ya got.” He motioned to the piano behind me.

“Thank you.” I turned and walked over to the piano and took a seat. I made sure that everything was adjusted to my liking before placing my music in front of me. I took several deep breaths, rolled my shoulders, and straightened my back. As I placed my hands over the keys, I murmured a little prayer to myself. I tapped my toes to set a tempo and then let muscle memory take over. My fingers danced as if I’d been playing this piece all my life. I got lost in the music. Part of me could picture my father standing there critiquing my posture, my speed, my accuracy. I smiled to myself as I reached the end, and then I let the notes echo in the hall until they died.

There was no sound at first, just deafening silence, and then I heard what my father always told me about. Their voices. All those who came before me on this stage. I could hear them whispering their congratulations. I could hear the laughter and excitement. I could hear the applause, and I knew that no matter what, I’d done my best.

I stood and gathered my music, walking slowly back to the center of the stage, waiting to hear what they’d say. I left a piece of myself there that day. “Who do you take lessons from?” The dark-haired gentleman began making notes on the paper in front of him.

“My dad taught me to play.” I rocked on my heels.

“Who’s your dad?” He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Julian Vaughn.” I pressed my lips together. Everyone in Boston knew who my father was. It was no secret, but I never name dropped. I wanted to make it on my own.

“From the Boston Orchestra?” He sat up straighter.

“Yes, sir.” I waited to see what he’d do.

“He taught you well.” He wrote something on the paper. “We’ll be making our decision by the end of the week, and then we’ll send you notification in the mail.”

“Thank you, sir. “I scurried off stage and rushed back to where my dad was waiting.

“Well?” He smiled when I burst through the door.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “It went well, really well, but they said they’d let me know.” I grinned. The pressure release from being done was unimaginable. I felt so light and happy. “Can we get ice cream before heading home? I feel like I need it.” I laughed.

“Some things never change.” Dad chuckled as we made our way outside.

“Maybe we should wander around campus while we’re here. This way, you’ll know a little about what’s here before you come this fall.” He winked as he turned toward another building.

“But what if I don’t?” I frowned slightly.

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