The Audition by Sandra D. Scott |
| Emma figured no one would want to adopt a twelve-year-old average kid. She had been labeled "average" but did not know why. Being covered from head to toe with a blanket of freckles was not run-of-the-mill. But many girls envied her unusual green eyes. Her not so average hair was thick, wavy, and carrot red. And the gap in the middle of her otherwise normal teeth definitely set her apart. One foster sister assured her that gaps were beauty marks among many African tribes. Emma thought, "Maybe I'll get placed with an African family and my gap will be appreciated." Meanwhile, Em made the most of being seen as common. She didn't try to cover her freckles. Her hair was accented with hats, and her gap was great for whistling. But what really made her standout was her knack with the violin. Emma was Gran's one-hundreth and last foster child. When Grandma Worthington picked Emma up from the agency, she announced, "I've heard about you, Emma Brown. I've prayed on it and we're going to get along fine. Grab your bag, honey." Em stood with her arms crossed, staring at the back of the petite, old lady headed out the door. Then she grabbed her bag and violin case muttering, "It sure won't be fun living with an old lady." Gran was lively for a seventy-year-old and great with kids. She was strict but fair, liked to tease, and best of all she loved music. They played duets together at church and nursing homes, Gran on the piano and Emma on her old violin. One nursing home resident, Mrs. Peru, called to Emma from her wheelchair at the end of every performance. "Come here, Emma," she summoned. "You performed so beautiful today! Hold your arms like I told you and you won't get tired when you play a solo concert. "Me, a solo? I could never … besides all I have is this old vio … " "No, I see it," Mrs. Peru interrupted. "You play from here," she said pointing to her heart. "Oh! If only I could show you." She sighed looking at her arthritic fingers. "With a heart for music and correct technique you can make any instrument sing. You've got the first; I can help with the second." Calling in Gran's direction, she said, "Martha, bring Emma twice a week. I will teach her." Em didn't get to finish her complaint on the way home. "But Gran, Mrs. P is so, so —" "What, so old?" Gran inquired, looking over the top of her glasses. "Malita Peru has toured the world as a concert violinist. What a blessing to have her as a teacher! Besides, I remember someone else you thought was too old." Em refused to look at her. "Besides," Gran continued, "I —" "Yeah, I know, interrupted Emma. "You prayed on it." "So that settles it," they finished in unison, laughing. After a series of lessons, Mrs. Peru deposited within Emma the dream to be a concert musician. Em envisioned herself on stage, a long black dress flowing around her ankles, the crowd standing, and clapping wildly. As she bowed, her diamonds sparkled under the spotlights. Tucked under her arm, her prized Stradivarius. The crowd hushed to hear the first perfect note as the bow and strings met … "Emma! It's time to go!" Gran called from the stairway. Shaken from stardom, Emma sighed. "But first, I have to make first chair in the school orchestra." She scooped up her violin case and backpack then rushed down the stairs. Gran brushed a kiss on her forehead as she whizzed by. With the audition in two days Emma practiced everywhere, including at the bus stop. Her favorite spot was atop the wall under the mesquite tree where she did her warm-ups until she heard the bus ease around the corner. The afternoon of her audition Emma pulled her hair back into a tidy bun and secured it with a black ribbon. She wore a white shirt and tailored black pants. The wide suspenders added her own special touch. With Mrs. P's borrowed pearl earrings and necklace, she proudly looked at least sixteen. Gran's perfume spray created a misty ring of flowers and spices around her. The phone rang downstairs; a muffled conversation resulted. Moments later the door swung open and Emma turned to see Gran's red-rimmed eyes and pained expression. "Oh Em, Malita has taken a turn for the worse." "Mrs. P.? A turn for the worse?" Em echoed. "I must go to her. She may not last the day." The doorknob rattled as Gran held onto it for support. "Won't you come with me? You know how much you meant to her." A chill traveled down the center of Emma's back. "Wha …? What about my …?" The word stuck in her throat. "I know dear," Gran said. "I'm not making any demands." Emma stared at the closed door. tears spilled from her eyes. Her fingers opened and shut, kneading the air as she tried to make up her mind. "Mrs. P. helped me prepare. She understands what it means to me," she whispered to herself. "It's my one chance to prove myself." She paused, then closed her violin case. With her arms and feet in the correct position, her chin relaxed on the chin rest, Emma remembered Mrs. P's instructions, "No lazy arms." She shook each hand to get rid of any tension, took one last look in the mirror and practiced her introduction. "I am Emma Brown and I will be playing … no performing …" she caught herself, remembering Mrs. Peru's caution, No dear, not playing. You are a performer. Emma smiled. Mrs. P. never missed a detail. Em walked down the hallway. She took a deep breath, opened the door, stepped into the room and introduced herself to the judge. "I am Emma Brown. I will perform the Mozart Sonata No.10 in B flat." Her eyes closed and she became one with the music. Her body swayed in a solitary dance with her violin. With the final, confident stroke of the bow Em knew she had done well. She approached the judge. She bent over to whisper to the fragile lady in the bed, "Mrs. P.? How did I do?" Mrs. Peru's pale lips parted into a smile and she whispered back, Bea … u … ti … ful. I am so proud." Em was glad for the rainy weather as they walked home; it masked her tears. Gran gently said, "You are an exceptional young lady. You made a tough decision to skip your audition but being there meant the world to her. Blessings will come your way, dear." Emma wasn't so sure. Weeks later a special delivery letter arrived. Gran stared at it then sat down heavily in her chair. In Emma's foster care experience a legal letter was never good news. With each rip Gran made with the letter opener, Emma's heart skipped a beat. Em wondered, "What if the courts are taking me away from Gran?" Gran read slowly, "Your presence is requested at the office of J.J. Reardon Esq …" "Emma, we need to go downtown," Gran stated. "It has something to do with Malita." The lawyer's office had the comforting aroma of leather, coffee, and old books. Mr. Reardon shook hands with them and directed them to their chairs. "It seems you both made quite an impression on my client; Mrs. Worthington, you as a cherished friend and you Miss Brown, were a prized student. Emma, this letter is for you." Em reached for the letter and read it aloud. "My dear Emma, thank you for letting me, a lonely, old lady, share my love of music. I believe you can appreciate the gift of my most prized possession. Let it sing from the concert halls as I once did. To you I leave my concert violin. Love, Mrs. P." Emma gasped, walked to the desk, and opened the case to reveal the most beautiful violin she had ever seen. She gingerly stroked the brilliant instrument, then picked up the bow and brought the violin to her shoulder. So smooth, so clear was the tone it made her heart ache. Speechless, she played and the violin spoke for her. Emma had proven herself after all. |
Copyright by Sandra Scott
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violin
from Karen's Whimsy Public Domain Images