Unforgettable

And I’m a fine one to talk. She needs Mozart like I needed Gloria Gaynor.
Emily whispered, “I can’t believe that this year is my last one with the Boston
Youth Symphony. I don’t want it to end.”
Change. Her little sister was afraid of change. Jen understood that too well.
“Oh, honey. You’re heading into your next adventure is all. First, Tanglewood
this summer. Didn’t you say Maestro Perlman would be there again this year?
Then the New England Conservatory. Come on, play for me.”
Where was Mike when she needed him? Elite quarterbacks knew how to handle
people. She was the worst psychologist in the world.
Emily’s first note brought Jen’s thoughts to a halt. No matter how often she
heard her sister play, she always forgot how magnificent her music was. She
recognized Mozart’s A Little Night Music.  Emily’s eyes had closed, her bow
flew as if of its own accord, and Jen knew the girl had, indeed, become part of
another world.
She waited a bit before approaching. “Enough, Em. You need to be awake for
Bobby in the morning and focus on him. Mundane, real world stuff. Got it?”
The dreamy eyes sparkled. “I think I can handle my nephew. You go to your
rehearsal. No worries.”
Right. In the Delaney family, there were always worries. But she wouldn’t let
Doug Collins be one of them. She hadn’t even mentioned him to Emily, which

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proved her point. He was forgettable.
##
A few minutes before ten o’clock the next morning, Jen greeted other members
of the All-City Chorus in the lobby of the Commonwealth Theater. Excitement
reverberated. The group had only two full rehearsals left before their
performance.
“People! People.”
Jen turned toward the speaker and listened. “We’ve got an almost sold-out
house. Our reputation is growing.”
“Or we’ve coerced more family and friends to buy tickets!” joked one of the
singers.
Jen chuckled along with the rest. Sure, family and friends would attend, but also
music lovers and supporters of community talent. She loved being part of this
volunteer chorus. It seemed to round out her family time and career interests.
And it added to her social life. Girlfriends. Guy friends. Her days were full.
Busy. No lonely moments. She made sure of that.
“Good morning, Henny-Penny.”
She froze for a moment, and her heart raced. Keep your cool, Jen.
Pivoting slowly, she finally nodded. “Good morning, ramblin’ man.”
He winced. “Five years in New York. Hardly rambling.”
“Depends on your outlook, I guess. Sorry, I’ve got to get inside and on stage
with the others.”
“How’s Lisa doing?”
“Excuse me?” Her thoughts whirled. Nothing about the birth was in the papers
today. She’d checked before leaving her apartment. Boston loved their QB, and
Mike’s life was public—most of the time.

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“Deduction...and a hunch. I heard your directions to the driver last night.
Brigham and Women’s. And you were speaking with Mike.” He shrugged.
“Lisa’s doing just fine.” And that’s all she’d give him.
His expression softened. “I’m glad, Jen. Very glad.”
That gentle voice, so warm and caring, reminded her of the man she used to
know. Her heart ached for a moment, but she avoided his glance.
He held the heavy door open, and she walked through, feeling his eyes track her
progress to the front of the theater. She joined the mezzo-sopranos on stage, all
the while fighting the urge to turn around. When she couldn’t postpone it a
moment longer, her glance darted to the door in the back.
Gone. He was gone. She sensed her relief, then her disappointment. Now that
was something she needed to figure out.
Lowering her gaze when she detected movement, she saw Doug settling into an
aisle seat as though he had all the time in the world. What had happened to the
apartment search? His work with the new play? Where were his actors? Time
was money. Not that she knew where his funding came from, but still…he
seemed to be wasting both time and money.
Not her business. She focused on the choral conductor and put Doug out of her
mind, where he belonged.
Four-part harmonies, solos, duets— the group had worked on a variety of ways
to represent the Great American Songbook, the most enduring songs from the
1920’s through the 1950’s. Jen’s mouth often trembled at the memories this
music called up. In her mind’s eye were pictures of herself singing with her
mom, dad and Lisa as they cleaned up the kitchen after dinner every night. Each
one could carry a mighty tune, each voice blending with the others. “Just like the
Von Trapp family,” her dad would offer with a grin. His eyes twinkled and his
smile never faltered as the family made short work of the cleanup. A happy man.
And then…she shuddered…only the five kids remained.
Jen blinked and willed herself back to the present. Memories could still bite. She
viewed the music binder in front of her, paid attention to the conductor, and

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allowed herself to become immersed in the practice. A full rehearsal.
Corrections. Improvements. More than a hundred voices strong accompanied by
a piano and small chamber group of instruments. Her jazz solo came just before
intermission. Summertime  from Porgy and Bess. By the time she took the mic,
she was ready. She eyed the conductor, listened for the musical intro.
Her smoky voice gave sympathetic quality to the words, while the backup
chorus added a spiritual mood. Like Emily, she could have been alone as she got
lost in the music, in the emotional depth of the song and the atmosphere it
evoked.
Silence followed her last note. Silence before the congrats and spontaneous
applause. She was jerked from her inner world, saw and heard the approval from
her peers. She’d put herself into it and knew she wouldn’t be able to sing better
on performance night.
Her gaze traveled to the back of the auditorium. Doug’s seat was empty, but the
door behind him was swinging shut. Perhaps his reappearance had sparked
memories she’d carefully packed away.
His presence was getting to her. She had to admit that truth. They’d been happy
together for four years. Maturing, sharing…trusting. So sweet and good. Could
she have acted too hastily? She didn’t know. But that was then. What she did
know was that she needed to move on with her life, a full life, but a life she
could control.

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