Page 66 of Sensing Selma
“You’re just not...I mean, when I first saw you, that day in the piano room at Moon Manor...you were...I mean, I thought you...”I chuckled, embarrassed with my initial assessment of him.
He laughed. “Let me guess. I’m old? I’m stuffy? Too serious?”
“Oh, no!”I said with a giggle. “Well, yes, you are a little older than...well, than the boys I’ve known. You are quite serious. But you’re not stuffy.”
Major smiled slightly.“I’m 31.”
I was taken aback.“Only 31?You’re so accomplished, so put together.I’m sorry, I thought you’d be older.”Funny, I suddenly realized. I’d thought Damen was so mature...so much more than the boys from back home in Bath. But Major Cooper...he made Damen look like a pubescent teen and Damen must be a few years older. Major had class and there was an easy elegance about him.
“Truth is,” I said more soberly. “I’ve never really known a mature man. You have your place in Derbyshire, and you have this place, and you have your life in order...for heaven’s sake, you’re a patron of the arts, you’ve renovated the Theatre Royal. What else do you do?”
“I do like to keep busy.”
“So, tell me. Why hasn’t a catch of a man like you married yet?”
His smile faded, then he pressed a broad smile, but it was no longer amused.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “That’s none of my business.”
“How about we talk of this show of yours,” he said.
*****
THE NIGHT HAD COME, and I knew that I had only Major Cooper to thank. Not only had he gone to the trouble of setting up this concert, but he’d spent so much time listening to me play my songs. He gave me a few pointers, helped me change a lyric here and there, but most of all, he was simply there for me.
On the few occasions when I thought I’d never be ready, that I wouldn’t have enough songs completed, he supported me, encouraged me and kept me going.
And now, it was time to show everyone what I could do.
“You look wonderful,” Susan said as she came backstage to see me right before the show was to begin.
“Thank you for loaning me this dress,” I said, looking down at the deep red dress. It was simple, classic and perfect for the occasion.
She smiled. “Funny how matronly that dress looked on me, but on you...so pretty.”
“I must admit that I had it pulled in at the waist a bit, and I did have it hemmed up just an inch...or two.”
She laughed. “That explains it.” She grasped my hands. “I love you, little sister.”
“I know,” I whispered. “And I love you.”
“Break a leg.”
I nodded and she left me.
Alone, I breathed in deeply. I was ready.
Yes. This was my moment.
On the darkened stage, I walked to the piano and sat down. The curtain rose and a faint light lit my hands. My fingers trembled slightly, but when I pressed on the first keys, heard those first notes, the tremors disappeared.
I sang with the assurance of one who knew of what she sang, and I poured my heart into every note, every word.
The song came to an end, and I rose to face the audience who burst into applause. I wanted to cry for the elation. What a wonderful gift Major Cooper had given me.
The theatre was magnificent, renovated to be as good as new, but retaining the charm and elegance of a time long gone.
As a piano player came to take my seat, I picked up the microphone from the stand.
