“If I Loved You” (piano)
Listen to “After the Concert”
By seven-thirty nearly three-quarters of the auditorium was filled. It was not the first time Howard had seen so many people. He didn’t even pace back and forth in his dressing room this time. Calmly, he stood to answer the faint knock on his door.
“Julie!” He spoke in mild rebuke.
“They’re waiting for you,” she said. “The music is ready, Prof.”
Her adoring look made him swell with well-earned pride. “You’re a great page turner,” he whispered as he rushed past her onto the open stage where an explosion of applause awaited him.
Julie, dressed in black satin, was barely visible behind the great organ and tuxedo-clad artist except as her functional hand reached out to turn a page. Magnificent was the music that poured forth from Howard’s hands and feet and heart! Like the roar of a thunderstorm, like the ethereal depths of an exotic sea, like the quiet charm of a Gothic cathedral—Howard gave all this, and more, to the spellbound audience. The time passed quickly, and the response was tremendous. Women threw flowers; the men cheered. They all gave him a standing ovation as Howard came back for bow after bow and encore after encore. Julie, almost misty, had taken the briefcase of music and headed backstage.
Howard grew tired as he signed autograph after autograph. It was a long time before the crowd of eager fans thinned out. Even the appearance of the heavy-set, stern-faced custodian who stood close by the organ with folded arms seemed to have little effect on dispersing the crowd.
As the tower clock in the distance was striking the hour, Howard turned to leave. It was then that he saw her. He peered through the dimly lighted hall until she was close enough to speak.
“Janie! You came.”
“Yes, Howard. I said I would.” With a white-gloved hand, she gave him her program to sign. “You were absolutely terrific!”
He smiled humbly as his trembling hand grasped the pen. Slowly, he handed it back to her as their eyes met for the first time in many years. He could see how the city light that diffused through a high rose window fell on her golden hair. “Janie,” he said at last, “it’s been so long.”
She nodded. “I always knew you’d make good, Howard. I remember how it was in school—”
“Ah, yes.” His mind drifted back across fond memories. He chuckled. “Remember how the kids always gave poor old Mr. Harris a bad time? Just because he was bald—”
She giggled. “Then there was the time we went with the class on that picnic. And guess who got lost!”
“Say, that was really when it all started, wasn’t it?”
There was a silent pause.
Janie glanced absentmindedly at the now silent organ. “I’ll never forget that banquet—and the music.”
“Then there was the party at Larsons’—the very last one when—w-we thought we’d never see each other again.”
“Tell me, Howard, you graduated from that university in California, didn’t you?”
“Just a couple of years ago,” he answered sheepishly. “I had a rough go of it at first.”
“But you’ve got what it takes—determination and talent. I always admired that, Howard.”
“And you, Janie, you were working for Dr. Hutchins in Ludington when I saw you last. Did you finish at Michigan State? I remember the big plans we used to talk about—”
“I did,” she replied, “just a few years after—after we said goodbye. But I’m teaching now—in Ludington.”
“Teaching! Janie, I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of you, Howard. You know that. From the first day we stayed after school and I listened to you play the little spinet in the Ludington Cafeteria—”
Just then a toddler’s exclamation echoed through the stillness. “There she is, Daddy!” And a tall, dark stranger stepped out of the shadows with a curly headed little girl in his arms.
“Honey, this is Mr. Davidson, the organist,” Janie said as she took the wriggling bundle into her own arms. “Howard, I’d like you to meet my husband, Floyd Wright, and our little Debbie.”
As the two men shook hands and exchanged greetings, a door from the hallway opened and Howard spotted a familiar form. He grasped her hand. “And this is the girl I could never have gotten through the concert without! Julie, I’d like you to meet the Wrights—Floyd, Janie, and—”
“Debbie,” Mr. Wright smiled. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Next year,” Janie inserted, “you two must include Ludington in your itinerary.”
The man beside her nodded politely. “Best wishes, Mr. Davidson—and Julie!” Then he turned, with his wife and child, to leave.
“Janie Wright,” Howard whispered in awe when the darkness had enveloped them.
“So—that’s Janie!” Julie’s voice was teasing.
“Yeah.” Howard laughed with her. “She still remembered who I was.”
“Hmm.” Julie seemed unconcerned. “Say, the A.G.O. president talked to me—he couldn’t get through to you for the people! Anyway, he already wants to know about next year. I told him you’d write when we get back to California. But what about next year, Howard?”
He slipped his arm around her and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Together!” he said deliberately. “You and me—piano and organ. There’s the E-Flat Concerto for a start—”
“Oh, Howard!” She responded to his embrace. “Do you really think I can—we can—do it?”
“Darling,”—he squeezed her suddenly—”you’re a pianist, remember?”
“But something this big—”
“Hey, we’re a team now, don’t forget.” He stroked her hair lightly. “Besides, I love you and our music.”
“We’ll do it, sweetheart—together.”
She closed her eyes and laid her head against his broad shoulder. “I’ll never regret the day we became a team.”
“Neither will I!” he sighed softly. “Come on, Mrs. Davidson, we’ve got a big day ahead—Carnegie Museum, lunch at The Rendezvous, and a long trip home.”
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