Chapter 4

Aspen- age 17

The day that Mom died changed everything. Music became my life. It had always been who I was, but things were different now. There was nothing else. School, lessons, and practice. I played every day, and every day I became better. My father was almost obsessed with my success. He was constantly pushing me to be better. Just one more piece, one more hour of practice, one more day closer to a career in music. I didn't know any different, and I wasn't sure if I'd know what to do if I was given the chance for a different path. I loved it but seeing my father light up when I'd master something, was what drove me for perfection. I knew I could always be better, and I knew that if I played more I'd be closer to it.

"How was that?" I sat back and took a deep breath. "Do you think it was enough?" I blinked up at my father. My eyes were beginning to cross from staring at the music. We'd been working on this piece for days.

"I think you need a faster tempo. I think other than that, it was flawless." He nodded as he paced our living room.

"Faster?" I half gasped half whined. "I don't think my fingers will go any faster."

"You can always improve." He sighed. "Faster is an improvement."

"Anything else?" I placed my hands over the keys and tapped with my foot, setting a beat. My fingers soared over the keys, tapping as my eyes blurred looking at the pages. I glanced up once to see what his reaction was, and I stumbled. My right hand hit a wrong note, and it snowballed from there. I stopped, angrily banging my fists on the keys.

"It's late." Dad sat down beside me and patted my shoulder. "Get some sleep. We'll work more tomorrow."

"Do you think I'm ready?" I wearily looked over at him. I could feel tears from the exhaustion pooling in my eyes.

"I think you're ready. I think you need to think you're ready." He smiled. "Where is that confidence I used to see?"

"She hid when Bobby Childers scored higher than her last year." I sighed as my shoulders sank.

"You're just as good. Berklee will be happy to have you." He hugged me.

I've been dreaming of going to Berklee since I was six. If I wanted a career in music, that's where I needed to study. I've spent every summer since I was eight at Juilliard, with the exception of the year my mom died. Their summer consortium has welcomed me with open arms, but it's time to take the next step, college, and as great as Juilliard is, I need to experience other instructors.

"Get some sleep." Dad yawned as he stood. "I'll go over it with you again in the morning."

"Night." I smiled softly as he made his way upstairs. Just as he reached the top, I turned and took my position again. Holding my hands over the keys, I tapped my foot and started again. I've played this piece so many times I have it memorized. I closed my eyes and let my fingers dance. I heard my dad chuckle as I moved faster and faster. When I finished, I let the sound ring through the house and blanket me. I sat there remembering why I do this. My lips pulled into a soft smile as my eyes fluttered open. I'd made it through the whole piece flawlessly. "Just like that," I whispered. I rubbed my eyes as I closed the piano and stood from the bench. I turned off the light and made my way upstairs. They had to let me in. They'd be crazy not to.

"You ready?" Dad held open the front door as I stood in the middle of the room, clutching my music bag. This was it. Today would determine the rest of my life.

"Is it bad if I say no?" I grimaced.

"No." He laughed lightly. "I would think something was wrong if you weren't a little nervous. You've got this." He motioned for me to go ahead of him. "Come on. We don't want to be late."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my feet to move. We took a cab to the other side of the city, and when we stopped by the campus, my nerves grew exponentially. "I don't think I can do this," I muttered.

"What's going on?" Dad turned to face me. "You've played on stages with huge audiences. I watched you lull those admissions people at Juilliard. You're never like this."

"It's just. This is it." I bit my lip. "This is what we planned for. What Mom planned for," I whispered. "What if I don't make it?"

"You will," he insisted.

"But what if I don't?" I dropped my eyes and stared at my feet. I was perfectly dressed in my concert black.

"Then we go somewhere else, you practice more, and we try next year." He paused before continuing. "That's not going to happen, though."

"You're always so sure about me." I rolled my eyes.

"You're my daughter. I know you. I knew the day you were born, and I looked at those long fingers that we'd be here one day. Lift that chin and show that panel who's boss."

"You're right." I rolled my shoulders back and lifted my chin with confidence. I tucked my music bag under my arm and strode over to the steps that led into the admissions hall. We were greeted and directed to a room much like I'd waited in every year when I went to summer music camp. This time, my father seemed more human and less like this untouchable hero I'd always seen. He smiled proudly when they called me in, and I gave one final wave as I disappeared into the concert hall.

"Good morning, Miss Vaughn." A dark-haired gentleman sitting about halfway up in the seats greeted me.

"Hello," I replied as I stopped in the middle of the stage. The stage lights were almost blinding, making it hard to see how many people were watching.

"I see you've studied at Juilliard for the past ten summers. That's impressive." He flipped over a paper in front of him. I'm guessing it was my application for admission.

"Yes, sir. My dad always pushed me to study with the best." I clasped and unclasped my hands. My nerves were coming back, and I couldn't tell if this guy liked what he'd heard or not.

"You know, we produce the best here. Are you ready to work for that goal?" He seemed amused.

"Yes, sir." I nodded.

"Let's hear what ya got." He motioned to the piano behind me.

"Thank you." I turned and walked over to the piano and took a seat. I made sure that everything was adjusted to my liking before placing my music in front of me. I took several deep breaths, rolled my shoulders, and straightened my back. As I placed my hands over the keys, I murmured a little prayer to myself. I tapped my toes to set a tempo and then let muscle memory take over. My fingers danced as if I'd been playing this piece all my life. I got lost in the music. Part of me could picture my father standing there critiquing my posture, my speed, my accuracy. I smiled to myself as I reached the end, and then I let the notes echo in the hall until they died.

There was no sound at first, just deafening silence, and then I heard what my father always told me about. Their voices. All those who came before me on this stage. I could hear them whispering their congratulations. I could hear the laughter and excitement. I could hear the applause, and I knew that no matter what, I'd done my best.

I stood and gathered my music, walking slowly back to the center of the stage, waiting to hear what they'd say. I left a piece of myself there that day. "Who do you take lessons from?" The dark-haired gentleman began making notes on the paper in front of him.

"My dad taught me to play." I rocked on my heels.

"Who's your dad?" He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Julian Vaughn." I pressed my lips together. Everyone in Boston knew who my father was. It was no secret, but I never name dropped. I wanted to make it on my own.

"From the Boston Orchestra?" He sat up straighter.

"Yes, sir." I waited to see what he'd do.

"He taught you well." He wrote something on the paper. "We'll be making our decision by the end of the week, and then we'll send you notification in the mail."

"Thank you, sir. "I scurried off stage and rushed back to where my dad was waiting.

"Well?" He smiled when I burst through the door.

"I don't know." I shrugged. "It went well, really well, but they said they'd let me know." I grinned. The pressure release from being done was unimaginable. I felt so light and happy. "Can we get ice cream before heading home? I feel like I need it." I laughed.

"Some things never change." Dad chuckled as we made our way outside.

"Maybe we should wander around campus while we're here. This way, you'll know a little about what's here before you come this fall." He winked as he turned toward another building.

"But what if I don't?" I frowned slightly.

"You will." He wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we meandered through what I hoped would be my home for the next four years.

We spent the morning, and most of the afternoon, wandering around campus. There were so many ivy covered brick buildings that I wondered how I'd learn my way around. I was sure to get lost… more than once. We passed by one of the concert halls just as a rehearsal was ending. Several men and women carrying instrument cases came rushing down the stairs chatting excitedly with one another. I smiled thinking that it could be me one day. I started to believe that this place would soon be my home. I'd be the one practicing into the wee hours of the morning. The one who would speak in a language only other musicians would understand. I'd hear the voices of those who came before me, and I'd leave my mark on the many stages I'd grace over the next four years. The idea was growing so rapidly in my head that I thought I might burst with excitement. The possibilities were endless, and the longer Dad and I stood there just taking it all in, the more I believed that this was where I was supposed to be.

"It's ok to dream about it. Be happy." He hugged me as we walked down the sidewalk in search of an ice cream shop.

"I know. I just wish Mom were here." I leaned into his side. He seemed to pause for a moment before he added, "Me too."

His voice was sad, a little melancholy even. We never really talked about it, but I knew he missed her. How could he not? He seemed to push away the sadness though as we reached a sweets shop, and the conversation turned back to me and the future. I never realized until then how much of a part he played in my life. It just seemed natural, but the idea of moving on, and leaving him all alone in the house scared me a bit. What if he needed me? What if I surpassed him in skill? What if I wasn't good enough? Those questions plagued me every day but seeing him smile when he talked of my future made me push away the doubt. I'd make him proud. I could do this.