Page 118 of Share with Me

Chapter Thirty-Eight

New Year’s Evewas rainy and wet. Ivan decided to stay at home with Grandma instead of attending the SISO concert at the Old City Hall in downtown Brunswick. The event was indoors, but the pain in his left wrist bothered him. In a few days he’d be back at the doctor’s office for them to take a look at the cast. It felt a bit tight in places.

I can’t wait to get it off.

Four more weeks.

At the back of his mind Ivan knew that he was counting more than just the days when his cast would be removed. He was counting the days until he would see Brinley again. He was happy that she could fly out to Paris to spend a couple of days with her parents and sister. He hadn’t heard from his brother, Quincy, lately, but he assumed he was fine. Busy with his pregnant Zoe, he supposed.

It was almost eight o’clock at night. It would be in the middle of the night in Vienna. Wrong time to call Brinley. He decided to text Art a “Happy New Year!” message.

Instead of texting back, Art called. “Hey, man. Happy New Year.”

“You sound good, Art.” Ivan sat down on the old recliner. He couldn’t get the footrest to work. “They repaired you well, I gather.”

“I’m home now in my condo. This is the life, Ivan. My employer sent me a housekeeper and a cook.”

“Is that right?” Ivan wondered whether Brinley’s money would run out. All these charitable deeds she was doing. Why? Even before she had been saved, she’d been a very charitable person. Now that she was saved, she was even more generous with her money.

Maybe she needs to stop and let people work for something.

“This is my reward for doing my job, Ivan.”

Oh. That too.

“How’s your wrist?” Art asked.

“I’m feeling the pain, but it’s not too bad.”

“Your ribs?”

“Healing nicely. I can breathe now after a couple of weeks. Need time to heal, is all.”

“Don’t overdo the painkillers. You can’t get off it easily. Ask me how I know.”

Ivan laughed.

“When do you get back to work?”

“I don’t know, Art. This cast comes off four weeks from now. After that I have to do some therapy. Not sure what to expect. But I want to get back to work. My entire career depends on my wrist.”

In Ivan’s heart, he feared that Conductor Petrocelli had already decided on his replacement, Warren Yamaguchi, his very capable assistant concertmaster.

“That bad, huh? Well, I can tell you my entire career doesn’t depend on my guts though I should’ve listened to my gut feelings. Shouldn’t have parked that far away from the cathedral.”

The pain in his ribs stopped Ivan from laughing too hard.

“What’s so funny, man?” Art asked.

“Gut? Gut feelings?”

“I don’t know what kind of person would make a joke out of life and death.”

Ivan knew he was kidding. “I’m sorry. You cracked me up. Get it? Cracked?”

“I told you, man. Lay off the painkillers.” Art was beside himself. Then he calmed down. “You and I need to ask the Lord for help, Ivan.”

“He may not answer my prayers.” Ivan recalled all those prayers that God had denied him thus far. Being debt-free, going back on tour, reconciling with his sister.

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