Wishing Pearl Read online

  “You poor thing. That had to be awful.” Olivia waited for her to continue.

  “I was in my room asleep when it went down. I heard it all and knew instantly what had happened, but I was too scared to come out of my room. It took me over an hour to gather enough courage to go out there. I often wonder if they’d be alive if I’d gotten them help sooner.”

  Olivia nodded. “I know all about that kind of guilt. We can what-if ourselves to death, can’t we?” She thought of her hands covered with her daddy’s blood and of Jordyn behind the wheel.

  “For sure. I’m so good at that.” Ju-Ju’s eyes grew dark for a moment before she shook herself out of it and began to twist the cooling strands of candy together. “So I was on my own. I didn’t want to go into foster care because I’d heard so many horror stories about the things that happen to kids in those homes. So I ran away.” She chuckled and made a grimace at the same time. “In a sense, I created a horror story of my own, but at least it was my own choice. At least I was the one in control—or at least I thought I was.”

  “What happened?” Olivia bent the end of her first twisted candy strip into a U shape and then snipped the scraggly ends off with kitchen shears.

  “Well, that whole first year, I lived on the run. I slept wherever I found a place and stole money whenever I could find a way. I ate here and there, whatever. When I was thirteen, I realized I could make steady money plus sleep in a warm bed most of the time if I became a prostitute—New York businessmen love feisty little Mexican chicas.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  Olivia lowered the new strings of candy she’d picked up to twist and fought against the tears burning behind her eyelids. “Oh, Ju-Ju. Really?”

  “Hey now. You’ve had your own tragedy and pain. I won’t cry for you if you don’t cry for me. Deal?”

  Olivia choked back a sob. “Deal.” She dabbed the corner of her eye. “So what happened? How’d you end up here?”

  “I stumbled upon a preacher one day while I was working a corner. He was a cop on a missions trip, evangelizing on the streets of New York. He posed as a john—a man who wanted to hire a prostitute—and actually paid my fee so I’d give him the time. He spent his whole hour talking to me about Jesus.

  “His teenage daughter had run away and was never found—until it was too late anyway. Then his wife died of cancer. The man had suffered as much heartache as I had, but he’d still managed to find joy and peace somehow. I wanted that feeling.”

  You’re not the only one.

  Ju-Ju rolled out another strip of white candy. “So before he left New York, he put me on a plane to Denver.” Her eyes grew wistful. “Officer Mark Stapleton from Chicago. I’ll never forget him.”

  Olivia squealed. “I know him! He’s the one who told me about this place.” She shared the details of her recent association with him and how her mom knew him from way back. “Did you know he helped fund and build the game room?”

  Ju-Ju’s eyes widened. “I had no idea. Wow. It’s a small world—either that or Mark Stapleton is an angel doing God’s work all over the place.”

  That was certainly a possibility.

  “As is our tradition, now that we have a decorated Christmas tree, we’ll gather around it and sing some Christmas carols in celebration of the start of the season.” Patty hefted her keyboard onto its stand and pulled up a stool.

  The twenty-four girls clustered in a half circle, facing the tree.

  Olivia looked up into the evergreen boughs and watched a needle fall to the floor. The tree stood tall and regal in its homemade pride. It had heart and soul, unlike the commercial perfection of her mom’s trees. The colored lights might not be as elegant as the white Italian lights, but they were homier somehow. Happy. Warm. But still, something was missing. Why wasn’t she satisfied?

  The smells were all there—cider steeping in the slow cooker on the banquet table along the wall and gingerbread notes lingering in the air from the day’s baking. Brightly wrapped presents had already started popping up under the tree as some of the girls had spent their free time wrapping them. Frost on the windows gave away the cold temperatures outside, while the warmth of the roaring fire in the fireplace kept them toasty inside. What could be missing?

  Lonely. That was it. She was lonely. The Christmas season was meant to be a family time for celebration and happiness. Problem was, the celebrations rang hollow when there was no family around. Maybe she could sneak away and smoke one of her cigarettes later that afternoon. Breaking away from the group long enough to smoke had proven to be a more difficult task than she’d expected, even though she kept the unopened pack tucked somewhere in her clothes at all times. They just didn’t leave a girl alone at this place. Ever.

  Tammy had been trying to help Olivia see things differently. Her experiences were nothing more or less than what she made of them. Olivia could embrace the process and jump in with all her might. Or she could continue doing what she’d been doing and keep everyone and even the program itself at arm’s length. Maybe it was time to put the past behind her and give it all she had. She’d come that far, and she sure wasn’t doing herself any favors by not getting the most out of her time there.

  “… all is calm, all is bright …” Olivia joined in the singing with a grin on her face. She would find a way to enjoy Christmas no matter what. She had an idea and scrambled to her feet. She cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered in Patty’s ear then scurried off to her room. Olivia returned in a flash with her oboe case and flipped open the latches.

  She put her instrument together in record time, tuned it to match the sounds coming from the piano, and then stood beside Patty. As Patty began the next song, Olivia joined in with her rich oboe tones. Thankfully, she knew most of the Christmas carols they sang and could read the sheet music for the ones she didn’t.

  After they sang several songs, Tammy put up her hand. “I have a request. Olivia, will you play that solo from the Phantom of the Opera that you played for me during our session a couple of weeks ago?”

  Tammy and Jake both loved to listen to her play. Should she be worried that her biggest fans were both deaf? “Sure. But just so no one gets confused, it’s not really from Phantom. It’s background music from the movie version. I just happen to love the oboe part.” She raised her instrument to her lips, closed her eyes, and began to sway to the familiar melody.

  As the last strains faded away, silence filled the room.

  A tall man with slick black hair and a narrow English mustache that curled up on the ends stood from a chair in the back. “Young lady.” He approached Olivia wearing a tweed coat and carrying a top hat. He reminded Olivia of a detective in a foreign film.

  Her cheeks warmed as she realized a stranger had been listening to her play. Where had he come from? She’d played in front of so many people over the years, but it never got easy. Plus surprises like this always embarrassed her—like someone standing outside the door listening while she sang in the shower. Not cool.

  The man placed his top hat under his arm and held out a business card. “I’m Sean Gables, the conductor of the symphony orchestra for the Denver Fine Arts Academy.”

  What was he doing here? Had Tammy invited him? Ooh! Maybe she was dating him. He didn’t look like Patty’s type—too tall and too … um … proper.

  “Anyway, without taking up too much of your time, I’d like to know if you’d be willing to come to the academy and audition for a spot as an oboist in the group. We only have one playing with us right now, and as you know, that’s not nearly enough since we play at various venues throughout the state and even compete.”

  “I … I’m flattered.” Olivia could feel the heat rise from her neck and knew her face was beet red. “Thank you. But I don’t know. I’m not sure how I can. And I don’t go to school there.”

  Tammy leapt to her rescue by handing Mr. Gables her card. “If you’ll contact me on Monday, I’ll be glad to discuss the details and possibly set something up with you to audition O
livia.”

  He placed his hat on his head and nodded sharply. “I’ll be sure to do that. I’ll call you Monday morning around nine o’clock if that’s all right.”

  “Nine would be fine, Mr. Gables. Thank you so much.” Tammy shook his hand, and he stepped away.

  Olivia half expected him to click his heels.

  “Mr. Gables, great to see you.” Justin came up behind Olivia and reached out a hand.

  “Hey there, young man. How are your classes this year?”

  “School’s great. The vocal schedule is brutal though.” Justin and Mr. Gables laughed at an inside joke.

  Olivia felt awkward standing there while they talked, but she couldn’t just walk away either. Could she? It was that or keep standing there looking like a crazy person with nothing to add to the conversation. Time to go. “Sorry, gentlemen, I have to get to my duties. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Gables.” She scurried away before they could say another word.

  Well, if that crazy turn of events didn’t warrant a cigarette, Olivia didn’t know what would. She hurried out to the tree line, hoping no one followed. She could see into the Diamond Estates windows where girls milled around the tree and drank cider. They would be busy for a while—no one would miss her.

  Stepping deep enough behind the trees that she could dispose of the cigarettes if someone approached, but not so far that she’d get in trouble if someone found her out there, she pulled the pack out. With trembling fingers, she dragged the gold tab around the box to cut through the plastic wrapper. She reached in and pried out one cigarette as she plucked a match she’d swiped from the kitchen out of her shoe. Striking it on the nearest tree, she smiled faintly as it lit up.

  With trembling hands, Olivia placed the cigarette between her lips and prepared to draw in a breath just as the match touched the end.

  “What’s up, Olivia?” Justin poked his head around a tree.

  Olivia shrieked and dropped the match and the cigarette on the ground. The snow extinguished the flame instantly. “You shouldn’t sneak up on someone like that, Justin.”

  “I wouldn’t say I was sneaking, exactly. I had to run home for something Mom wanted, and it was faster to go back this way.” He stooped down, picked up her cigarette, and held it up in front of her face. “Were you going to smoke this?”

  “Were being the operative word.” Olivia crossed her arms. “Are you going to give me a hard time about this? It’s tough to quit, you know.”

  Justin shook his head. “I’m sure it is. But this is against the rules, not to mention disgusting and gross. Here, see how ridiculous I look with this?” He lifted the cigarette to his lips. “Completely unattractive, isn’t it?” He bent his wrist a few times in an exaggerated motion toward his mouth.

  Um, wouldn’t exactly say that.

  He handed it back to her. “I’m going to trust you to get rid of this.”

  Just that one? “Okay, okay. I promise.”

  “I have to get out of here before someone comes looking for me.” He jogged off toward the house. “Remember, you promised,” he called over his shoulder.

  Sure. Olivia smiled and held up the cigarette to show him then dropped it to the ground and crushed it.

  That left nineteen more.

  Chapter 22

  Try to look cool or go ahead and gawk? Olivia could barely contain her excitement as she and Tammy approached the regal Symphony Hall on the grounds of the Denver Fine Arts Academy. She wrung her hands together and wiped her damp palms on her slacks. What if her hands were so sweaty when she tried to play that she dropped her oboe? The thought made her laugh, but it came out a nervous snort.

  Tammy cast Olivia a few sideways glances as they walked through the parking lot toward the main entrance. “You okay? You’re kind of scaring me.” She signed scared.

  “I’m fine. I’m just nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before.” Her fingers flew like lightning to keep up with her words. “I mean, who’d have thought I’d be here, today, doing this? It’s a dream come true. I can’t believe it.” Finally. A stroke of good luck in her life.

  Tammy stopped walking and grabbed Olivia’s shoulders. “Calm down. Breathe. There you go. In. Out. In. Out.” She laughed. “You need to relax, kiddo. You’re going to do great, but only if you keep it together.”

  Olivia knew Tammy was right. Deep breath. This was no big deal. Just a regular day at oboe practice. These judges she’d be auditioning in front of—they were nobody special. Make it or not … it didn’t matter. Sure, Olivia. Just keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll eventually believe it.

  Tammy held the door open and stood aside to allow Olivia to step into the lobby. The lights were off, probably because there wasn’t a performance that night. But even in the dark hall, the ornately framed portraits on the walls were individually lit like in a museum, casting strange shadows on the faces of the famous composers. Almost as though they frowned upon what they feared Olivia might do to their beloved compositions. She’d try not to disappoint them.

  Strains of music came from the one lit hallway to their right. “I think we should go this way,” Olivia whispered and pointed. She started tiptoeing toward the sounds. Did the eerie eyes in the paintings follow her movements?

  Tammy tugged on her arm. “Why are you so scared? You have every right to be here—you were invited personally. Now, be confident.”

  She’s right. This is ridiculous. Get it together. Olivia squared her shoulders, tucked her oboe under her arm, and strode for the inhabited hallway. She had no idea what she’d find, but if she were about to wander into a place she shouldn’t be, then they should have given clearer instructions about where she was to go. Right?

  Two gray aluminum doors beckoned at the end of the hallway. A sign on the front read AUDITIONS TODAY: ONLY ENTER BETWEEN SONGS. Not allowing her confidence to waver, Olivia listened at the door as someone played a clarinet solo. Finally, when the last note filtered through the air, she heard conversation but couldn’t make out a single word. Within moments, the door swung open and a girl burst into the hallway with her hand over her mouth. She stumbled down the hall without a glance at them. What had they said to make her so upset?

  Her turn. Be confident. Olivia pulled the door open with a little more force than necessary. No matter. Better more than not enough. She was in charge. As long as she could keep up the personal pep talk, she’d be fine. A cigarette sure wouldn’t hurt though.

  The room was three times, maybe four times, the size of her band room back home and proportionately cluttered and disorganized. Suddenly she felt at ease. Two tables had been pushed together into one long one across the front of the room. Six sour-faced judges—five women and Mr. Gables—sat in seats behind the table.

  Now or never. And if she didn’t storm right over there, she’d lose her nerve. Olivia approached the table.

  Mr. Gables jumped to his feet and began pumping Olivia’s hand.

  “Fellow judges, this is Olivia Mansfield, the musician I was telling you about. She’s amazing on that oboe. I got lost in her song and forgot to pay attention to technique—that seldom happens to me, as you know.”

  They nodded, and a few even cracked a little smile.

  “What are you going to play for us today?” The judge on the far right consulted a clipboard.

  “Oh, Olivia, would you please play that oboe solo you did the other day? Don’t tell them what it is. Let’s see if they can guess.”

  “Sure, Mr. Gables.”

  Olivia settled in her chair, tuned her instrument, and raised it to her lips. She began to play and, as usual, closed her eyes and lost herself in the song. As the last note wafted up toward the acoustic panels and settled around them, Olivia opened her eyes to the sound of applause.

  The clipboard judge shook her head. “Clapping at an audition is highly unprofessional. I hope you’ll excuse us, Miss Mansfield. It’s safe to say that we were quite moved by your performance. Thank you for coming. We’ll be in touch.”<
br />
  Olivia stood up and glanced at Mr. Gables, hoping for assurance.

  He winked.

  Heart thumping, Olivia sat on a bolt of electricity outside Ben’s office listening to him debate with Donna, Patty, and Tammy about whether or not Olivia should be allowed to play oboe in the orchestra. Didn’t they know she could hear them? They had to know. Probably wanted her to sweat it out a little.

  “I just wish we’d had this meeting before she tried out.” Ben’s chair squeaked like it did when he leaned back all the way. “I mean, you had to know that she had a chance at making it. What did you think we would do if that happened?”

  “I figured we’d work it out if it was God’s will,” Tammy said quietly.

  Patty cleared her throat. “There are a lot of factors that we have to consider.”

  Olivia had never hungered for anything more than to have the opportunity Mr. Gables offered when she spoke to him on the phone just a few minutes before. Playing for the Fine Arts Academy would catapult Olivia’s college plans like nothing else she could have conspired. Still shocked that the school even considered adding a nonstudent to its roster, Olivia waited for the verdict—her future hanging in the balance.

  “I can’t even believe we’re discussing this. She’s not ready!” Donna practically shouted. “She hasn’t even gotten to the heart of this program yet. We can’t put her out there to fend for herself. It’s completely against our policies—especially the new rules. We put those into place for very important reasons. We mustn’t forget that.”

  Olivia pictured her banging a gavel or slamming her fist down on the table.

  “You make some good points, Donna.” Tammy sounded like she might be weakening. “Especially with all that’s gone on lately …”

  What did she mean by that?

  “I mean, if it’s meant to be, the opportunity will still be there in a couple of months when the time is right for her.” Donna sighed. “That’s only my opinion. I don’t know her like the rest of you do. I just don’t want us to get sucked into the hype and let Olivia do something to jeopardize the most important thing.”