Fearless Read online

  Melanie was proof that pixies weren’t all twenty-three, Lana considered as she lathered hotel soap over herself in the shower. She remembered the playful look in her big dark eyes, and grinned so much she was glad only the shower curtain could see her.

  She wasn’t as lucky once she was dressed and admiring herself in the bathroom mirror. As she fussed over her blouse and looked at her reflection sideways—my butt DOES look good in these jeans!—she noticed Robin watching her. “This necklace goes, right? How do I look?”

  Robin smirked. “Totally great. Hey,” she added, drawing closer, “are you, like, interested in Ms. Feinberg?”

  Lana broke into a smile broad enough to make her cheeks ache. “Hazards of having a genius kid.” She adjusted the necklace. “How’d you know?”

  Robin held up her phone. “I literally just had the exact same conversation with Alexis about Tyler. She’s been texting me selfies since before I woke up, like should she wear these earrings or those other ones. I’m pretty sure her phone autocompletes the name ‘Tyler’ when she types a T at this point.”

  “Seems like a nice kid,” Lana mused. “Would that… be okay with you, hon? If I went out with Ms. Feinberg?”

  “Yeah, I think she’s neat!” said Robin. “She knows a lot.”

  A cloud dissipated in Lana’s subconscious. “You don’t get too much trouble from the other kids from me and your dad being out, do you?”

  Robin made a face. “Please. I’m a band nerd. Anyone like that’s already way off my radar.”

  A breakfast bar and banana later, Lana settled down in the rehearsal room ready for another day of motherly pride. Mel was nowhere to be found, so while the kids were getting their instruments out, Lana took out her phone and went back on Facebook to read more of those yummy compliments that were still pouring in on Robin’s video.

  We are so proud of you! You know, Stefan played in a rock band when he was your age.

  That was Steve’s mom. Lana felt a mix of awkwardness and relief, as she always did when interacting with her former in-laws these days. Both sets of fairly traditional parents were far more comfortable pretending the divorce had just been a parting of ways, and Lana was fine with that. The biggest load off her mind was that none of the four of them was taking it out on Robin or Nick.

  Lana put away her phone, but Robin had a few measures of rest, so her eyes drifted instead to the first violins again. Watching their fingers dance around on the strips of black wood, shifting effortlessly, reminded her of lost moments. The smell of rosin, too, was bringing it all back.

  “Biscotti for your thoughts?”

  She turned to find Mel slipping into the seat next to her, wearing a stunning black blazer pantsuit and carrying one of those cheap totes that screamed “convention.” Heat flushed Lana’s cheeks. “Hey, thanks!” she whispered back, taking the cookie.

  “It came from the convention center,” Mel explained, taking utmost care to be as quiet as possible. “There’s a café with pretty decent coffee right outside the exhibition hall. By the way, I talked to the staff, and they’re used to this. During the winter, they always stock up when they’re predicting a lot of snow, so it’s not like we’re gonna starve in here. Unless you still want that cake!”

  Lana smiled so hard she felt like the points of her mouth were going to cut her cheeks. “I loved that chocolate bar last night, by the way. Thank you!”

  “Good, that was the idea!” Mel smirked, and Lana liked the impish twinkle in her eye so much she had to remind herself that whipping out her phone to take a picture would be exceedingly socially bizarre. But damn if she didn’t want to capture it and keep it like a butterfly in a jar.

  “So does that mean we’re still snowed in?”

  “Well, apparently they got things cleared up in the early morning,” said Mel, “but then it started all over again. So, yes. Sorry!”

  “What about the kids at the other hotel?”

  Mel made a face and shrugged. “Hopefully it’ll clear up tonight. Or at least, by tomorrow morning. That’s really the only day they have to be at the convention center.” She relaxed into her chair and folded her hands under her chin, studying the musicians. The smile spreading across her face seemed to envelop the rest of her as she moved sinuously to the rhythm. “I love this piece.”

  “Yeah, the whole program is really fantastic,” Lana agreed.

  “I wish I were playing it with them,” said Mel. “You think if I, you know, threw on a snapback and kept talking about vampires and werewolves on TV I could sneak in and pass as a high schooler?”

  Lana chuckled. “Do you get to play in a symphony back home?”

  Mel shook her head. “Not as much as I’d like. I take church gigs when I can get them, but between the orchestra and the chorus I pretty much don’t have the time. Plus, I also have a chamber orchestra, about twenty of the county’s best string players, that I’m also responsible for after hours.”

  “Wow.”

  “But I do get a chance to play sometimes—it’s not a symphony, but I can usually find old-timey jams here and there. Weekends, Monday nights, house parties on the holidays, or people’s birthdays.”

  “What’s old-timey?” asked Lana. Her throat was getting dry from all the whispering, so she took another sip of the English Breakfast at her feet.

  “The predecessor of bluegrass,” Mel explained. “Irish and Scottish fiddle met African banjo traditions in the Appalachians, and hundreds of years later, voila, you have fifteen people on folding chairs in someone’s backyard.”

  Lana shivered. The initial rush of heat from Mel’s arrival had succumbed to the hotel’s inability to completely block out the winter outside. “I’m sorry; I have to go back to my room to get my sweater.”

  “I should head over to the junior group anyway,” said Mel.

  Dammit! Lana tried not to frown, but she was sure her disappointment was showing on her face. If only she hadn’t been so determined to look her best for Mel, she wouldn’t have left the frumpy cardigan up in the room in the first place.

  “I can come with you if you want, so we can keep chatting without having to whisper,” Mel continued. “When you come back down, I’ll go over there.”

  “Sure!” Whew.

  They made their way out of the room as quietly as possible and headed for the lobby elevators. “So, you took today and yesterday off work?” asked Mel as they stepped inside.

  “Yeah, I work in the financial aid office at the university,” said Lana.

  “Oh, that’s cool; you have a pretty normal schedule so you’re off when the kids are off.”

  Lana nodded. “I actually like my job, too—and there’s a pretty friendly atmosphere in the office. But you’re right; not working in the evening means I can put the time into all that band mom stuff. Sometimes, that’s almost like a second job.”

  “Who can sell the most lemon cookies?” Mel cracked.

  “Guilty!” said Lana. “My office is still working on those things.”

  The elevator stopped. “So if you’re off weekends,” said Mel, stepping out, “you should come check out one of those jams I mentioned. Do you still have your violin?”

  Lana’s cheeks grew hot. “Yeah, I’ve still got it. Have my ex-husband’s guitar, too.”

  “Bring it along!” said Mel. “Folk music is easy to pick up.”

  Lana swiped her keycard and opened the door to her room. “It’s been a reeeally long time.” She hunted for her sweater, glad that the room was relatively unembarrassing—not always a given where teenage girls were concerned. Wait, what was she even thinking? Anything they’d leave out, Mel had probably seen already. Well, that was a relief.

  “If you’d rather just watch, that’d be fine, too,” said Mel, her thumbs looped in the back pockets of her jeans. “We’re more about sharing than audience, but there’s usually somebody there not playing—either somebody’s mom or partner. Free concert, when you think about it.”

  It wasn’t until
Lana caught sight of her own face in the mirror behind the bed that she realized she was frowning at that, too. She quickly smoothed her expression as she buttoned her sweater. “…yeah, I guess I’d better.”

  Mel flashed her a mischievous look from heavy-lidded, knowing eyes as she followed her out the door. “You do want to play.”

  Lana sighed. “I don’t know. It’s so easy for those kids down there—their fingers are like computers—they know where everything’s supposed to go and I—it’s been twenty years. If not more.” The door clicked shut.

  “Well, fine, you don’t need to make up your mind now,” said Mel. She sidled closer than casual as they waited for the elevator. “Either way, you’ll come to the jam, and then maybe we can grab dinner?”

  “Oh, I’m down for that!” said Lana enthusiastically, boarding the elevator. Good, at least Mel knew for sure that she was only reticent about this violin business, not dating women.

  When they got back to the ballroom where the eleventh- and twelfth-grade orchestra rehearsed, the students were on break. “Hang on; I want to show you something.”

  “Hm?” Lana watched with interest as Mel approached one of the young violinists. It looked like there were some questions and then smiling, and then Mel took the girl’s violin and bow.

  Lana didn’t know what to expect, but the sound that poured out when Mel began to play was rich and dark like that first bite of really good chocolate. She was shocked into silence, captivated by the simple, wistful melody. At some point, she realized her mouth was hanging open a little, and she closed it with some embarrassment, licking her lips.

  Some of the kids watched, too. Another violinist joined in, and Lana had to admit that a part of her was aching to join them. The melody didn’t sound hard… still, something held her back. She was acutely aware of an invisible wall between her and these kids, maybe between her and Mel as well. She didn’t trust that her fingers would know what to do, and she was scared that if she tried to tell them, they wouldn’t listen.

  “Mom! Mom, mom, mom, we got a problem.”

  Lana’s mind snapped instantly to Robin, the violinist and the lover sitting down to let the Mom take over again. “Honey?”

  “Out in the hallway.” Robin practically dragged her out by the sleeve of her sweater.

  In the hallway, surrounded by other kids Lana hoped were her friends, Alexis was slumped over on the floor, holding her head in her hands. “I am such a fucking idiot; I’m gonna die…”

  “What happened?” asked Lana.

  Alexis looked up, revealing a very red face. “I forgot to take my allergy meds this morning, so I tried to take them just now while I was going to the bathroom. But I dropped them all in the toilet. I already skipped today. If I skip tomorrow I’m gonna get a death-migraine and won’t be able to play. Oh, my God, I can’t believe this…”

  “And nobody else has any,” Robin volunteered. “We already asked.”

  Lana squeezed her shoulder. “Okay, we can fix this. I think there’s a Walgreens on the corner.”

  “It’s snowing again, though,” said a kid whose name Lana didn’t know.

  “That’s okay,” said Lana, “I brought my ski jacket.”

  “You’ll walk me to the Walgreens after rehearsal?” Alexis’s face looked like the sun peeking through clouds.

  “Of course. We can’t have you missing your concert! Not after all that work!”

  “I was afraid to ask Madison’s mom,” said Alexis. “She’s the one chaperoning me and I’m honest to God scared of her. She would yell at me and it’s not even her money.”

  Lana brushed her hair out of her face. “I’ll be here during the rehearsal, and then afterward just come up to the room with us so I can get my jacket, okay?”

  “Thanks so much, Ms. Novak. You are seriously the best.”

  “My mom’s a rock star,” beamed Robin.

  A few hours later, Lana led a gaggle of teenage girls back to her hotel room. “Oh, wow, Ms. Novak, that coat’s amazing!” Alexis exclaimed when she saw Lana’s shimmery blue ski jacket. The fabric was metameric, and it shone green and purple in some places when the light hit it just right.

  “I know, isn’t this great?” Lana checked the jacket’s pockets to make sure her gloves and scarf were still there, then grabbed the hat Robin had knitted her for Christmas off the dresser. “I hope you brought a good jacket. We can hit your room for it on the way down.”

  Alexis looked distraught. “But what about Madison’s mom? She’s gonna… like…”

  “She’s not your mom,” Lana shook her head in frustration. “She doesn’t really have any right to talk to you like that, anyway. She can just… Look, I’ll be with you. Just run in, get the jacket, and leave. If she asks where you’re going, tell her the truth and remember that no matter how she responds, it’s none of her business. I’ll be in the hallway in case anything happens.”

  “Okay.” Alexis looked sick, but gave Lana a half smile.

  “Not you, Robin.” Lana realized Robin was putting on her own coat. “I don’t want you out there in the snow, not the day before a concert. Your lungs are part of your instrument.”

  “Can we go to the dealer’s room?” Robin asked.

  “You mean the exhibition hall? Yes, but stay together and keep your phones where you can hear me so I can call when I’m on my way back. Stay together.”

  Robin clamped her hand on Blanca’s wrist. “Buddy system!”

  Amazing how much easier it is to tell other people not to be scared of things, Lana observed as she rode the elevator with Alexis down to the other floor, than to convince yourself not to be scared. And honestly, a cranky snob with a hair-trigger temper like Mrs. Woods did sound scarier than picking up a violin again. So why was she so nervous about it?

  Her mind flipped to a memory of the year she’d taken dance as a youngster, starting later than the other girls. It was hard to erase the awkwardness of being the biggest elf in the Christmas show—even though it wasn’t her fault she was a beginner at ten instead of five like everyone else. She might have stuck with dancing if more of the girls at her level were her age.

  Was that it? Was she reticent to pick up the bow again and then be the forty-three-year-old woman who sounded as halting as some of Mel’s students—the ones who weren’t good enough to be here at All-State?

  Maybe she was just afraid of looking inept in front of Mel. Luckily, Mel was the kind of universally friendly person who didn’t seem like she’d make a big deal out of mess-ups.

  She waited in the hallway outside Alexis’s room, giving herself the kind of pep talk she’d have given one of the girls.

  Alexis finally emerged, bundled into a puffy coat with a university logo, and grinning. “She’s not there!”

  “Phase one, complete,” said Lana as they headed back to the elevator. “All aboard for the Polar Express to Walgreens!”

  The first blast of icy air outside the hotel’s front door assaulted Lana’s face like knives. She’d covered as much as humanly possible, with her scarf wrapped around her cheeks and chin and then tucked into her pulled-up collar, and her hat pulled low over her ears. But nothing could completely block out the wet, cutting chill.

  “You okay?” she called out.

  “This suuuucks,” was Alexis’s response. “I’m so sorry for you having to come out here like this with me.”

  “It’s an adventure!” Lana told her. “Something for you to tell your kids someday.” She lifted her boot as high as she could to take the next step into the high drifts of snow. When she put it down again it sank disconcertingly into the fluffy flakes. “Watch your step.”

  “Yeah.”

  Lana fixed her sight on the bright red Walgreens sign, barely visible in the white-gray swirl. Snow stopped being fun past high school, she reflected, burying her gloved hands in her pockets. “Speaking of adventures, how did you manage to drop your pills in the toilet in the first place?”

  “Um,” said Alexis, continui
ng her slow, stomping march across the snowbank. “I was kind of… texting.”

  “You took your phone out in the ladies’ room? You’re lucky you didn’t drop that in the toilet!” Teenagers, Lana thought to herself, before a little voice reminded her that she’d shivered through the first half of Robin’s morning rehearsal without her sweater because it wasn’t Mel-worthy.

  “Oh, my God, my mom would kill me,” said Alexis. “Yeah, I know it was kinda dumb but things might be going somewhere with Tyler and I couldn’t wait to see his next message.”

  “Well, that’s good, anyway?” Trust a boy Tyler’s age to feel more comfortable talking about his feelings via text message.

  “Yeah! I feel good about it,” said Alexis. “We’re supposed to go see the new Captain Werewolf movie next weekend together.”

  “Congratulations!”

  Lana and Alexis fought the snow together until they reached the drugstore, where they killed several more minutes inside, just to enjoy the warmth. “We’re on our way back,” Lana told Robin into a cell that felt uncomfortable against her cold-stained cheek.

  “Cool,” said Robin. “How is it out there?”

  “You know that year you played the Waltz of the Snowflakes from Nutcracker for the Christmas concert?” Lana shifted out of the doorway to let another bundled-up soul exit. “Not that. Not even close. It’s like a science fiction movie.”

  “Don’t freeze,” said Robin.

  “See you soon.”

  On the way back, being forced to lift her boot-heavy feet higher than usual in order to take the next step into the drifts began to make her knees hurt. To distract herself, she thought of Mel playing that song—the simple waltz from before. She didn’t know why, but it reminded her of bittersweet movies about immigrants longing for their home country. Naturally, as the child of immigrants she’d been exposed to a fair number of those her whole life.

  Hearing it in her mind made her fingers, trapped inside her fists inside gloves inside pockets and close against her body, unconsciously start trying out what might be the positions for the song.

  Immigrants thinking of a far-off time and place… was that what violin was, to her? A land across the ocean, full of complex beauty and history?