Kitabı oku: «Cassandra's Song», sayfa 3

She shook her head miserably. “I don’t know, Daddy. I just can’t seem to get it together tonight.”

“Maybe because you’re trying to make this something it’s not. You’re performing in a nice little church cantata, honey, not Carnegie Hall. I’m sure your Italian tenor will understand that.”

“He’s not my Italian tenor,” she snapped.

Andrew smiled tolerantly. “All right. The point is you’re not in competition with him.”

“I don’t even think I can play.” She held up trembling hands. “Look at me, Daddy.”

“I’m looking, sweetheart. You’re beautiful and talented and you’re going to be fine. Just relax and go out there and enjoy yourself.”

“Relax? How can I, with Antonio Pagliarulo in the audience?”

“Honey, you’re forgetting something. You’re not playing just for Antonio. You’re performing for the Lord.”

A tear glistened in the corner of Cassie’s clear blue eyes. “I know, Daddy. It’s just…why does everything always have to be a competition with me? Why do I feel I always have to be the best?”

“Maybe because you’re my oldest daughter and you feel you have to be an example for everyone else. But you don’t, sweetheart. Just be yourself.”

Cassie touched his cheek. “You’re so wise. I love you, Daddy.”

Andrew slipped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “Cass, let’s ask God to give us a great evening, okay? Then you go out there and play your heart out.”

They prayed briefly, then exchanged a quick hug. “I wonder if they’re here yet?” She peered out through the curtain at the audience, then looked back at her father. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll just do my best and leave the rest with the Lord.”

“That’s the spirit, honey. And I’ll be applauding you all the way.”

To Andrew’s relief the cantata went without a hitch. The choir sang with spirit and vitality, and Cassie’s piano solos were the best he’d ever heard. If anything, her performance exhibited a new gusto and passion. He felt a thrill of pride as he watched her deft fingers scaling the keys, filling the auditorium with the triumphant strains of a Mozart concerto. She accompanied the choir in several selections she had adapted from Beethoven’s Choral and Pastoral symphonies, then concluded the program with a moving Beethoven sonata.

As the audience broke into resounding applause, Andrew clapped the loudest, his eyes misting as he reflected silently, Oh, my dear Mandy, if only you could have seen our daughter performing this evening. You would be so proud, so very proud!

After the cantata, Andrew greeted his parishioners in the vestibule, nodding with fatherly pride as they complimented the performance. “Wonderful program…such talent…like a choir of angels…such glorious music gives us a little taste of heaven.”

“Indeed it does…yes, amen,” Andrew was saying when he spotted Cassie coming toward him with a handsome man on one arm and a very attractive woman on the other.

Cassie was beaming. “Daddy, this is Antonio Pagliarulo and his mother, Juliana Pagliarulo. Antonio and Juliana, this is my father, Reverend Andrew Rowlands.”

Andrew couldn’t take his eyes off Juliana. She was everything Cassie had described…and so much more. Exotic. Poised. Glamorous. Regal. Stunning. Her dark eyes flashed with vibrance and warmth, her flawless, bronze skin glowed, her black-velvet tresses shone. She offered her hand and he clasped it in both of his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Paglia—”

“Juliana, please.”

“Of course. Juliana.” The name seemed to dance on his lips.

“The pleasure is ours, Reverend. My son and I enjoyed the program very much.”

“Call me Andrew. Reverend sounds so…stodgy.”

“Andrew. A fine name.” Juliana’s smile enveloped him in its warmth. “And your daughter…she is so talented.”

Andrew realized suddenly, to his embarrassment, that he had neglected Antonio, who stood waiting to shake his hand. Andrew turned and gripped the young man’s hand perhaps a bit too hard. “Mr. Pagliarulo, my daughter tells me you are a very gifted man yourself.”

He returned the firm handshake. “Thank you, sir. Your daughter is very generous in her praise. And, may I say, she is a marvelous pianist.”

Andrew chuckled heartily. “Sounds like we have a mutual admiration society going on here, if you ask me.”

Cassie clasped her father’s arm. “Daddy, I told Antonio we’ll be having dinner at the Palazzo Ristorante on La Jolla Boulevard.”

“Yes, I think you’ll like it. The food’s great,” Andrew told Antonio. “It’s about six blocks from here. Would you like to ride over with us?”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Antonio. “I have my car.”

“You could follow us,” suggested Cassie.

“No, I know the restaurant. It’s one of my favorites.”

Cassie smiled. “I thought it might be.”

Andrew turned confidentially to his daughter. “Are your sisters joining us?”

“No, they both said they have previous commitments.”

“I’ll bet,” he said under his breath. He looked back at Antonio and Juliana. “Are we ready to go?”

During the brief drive to the restaurant, Andrew noticed a smile playing on his daughter’s lips. He hated succumbing to his suspicious nature, but he couldn’t help wondering if Cassie was anticipating a delightful evening with the handsome Antonio Pagliarulo, or was she conniving ways of pairing off her father with the lovely Juliana? Guess we’ll just have to wait and see who wins at this matchmaking game, he mused silently.

Palazzo was a quaint, dimly lit café with lots of greenery surrounding cozy tables with red-checkered tablecloths. A jug with a flickering candle and a slim vase with a single red rose graced each table. The walls boasted a series of bright, impressionistic paintings of Venice and Naples. Tantalizing aromas of garlic, olive oil and oregano assailed Andrew’s senses as the hostess led them to a table in a private corner. His mouth watered as he caught glimpses of plates piled high with steamy baked manicotti and fettuccini smothered in creamy alfredo sauce. To his surprise he was hungrier than he had felt in days.

“What’s good tonight?” he asked the waitress, a young woman with a pretty face and black hair piled on her head in an odd little twist.

“The linguini alla portafino is good if you like shrimp and clams in a rich cream sauce,” she said in a high, singsong voice as she placed a basket of garlic bread on the table. “And everyone likes the veal parmigiana. But my favorite is the tortellini calabrese.”

“And what is that exactly?” Cassie asked, looking up from her menu.

“Meat tortellini and sausage in marinara sauce topped with mozzarella cheese. It’s awesome.”

Cassie nodded. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.”

Juliana handed the waitress her menu. “I’ll just have an antipasto salad, please.”

“I’ll have the linguini alla portafino,” said Antonio.

“I’ll try the tortellini,” Andrew said. “And bring us an appetizer, okay? Some of those sauteed mushrooms and fried calamari. Might as well do this thing up right.” He looked over at Cassie and grinned. “Looks like I should have brought our bibs for a feast like this, right, muffin?”

Cassie’s face reddened. “Oh, Daddy, really!”

“Bibs?” echoed Juliana.

Andrew grinned. “We have these big, wonderful bibs we use at home on spaghetti nights. I’m as klutzy as they come, but those bibs work wonders.”

“Daddy, Juliana doesn’t want to hear about our bibs,” Cassie admonished.

“Oh, but I do. What a clever idea.”

Andrew chuckled. “You’ll have to come over for spaghetti sometime and try them out.” The words were out before he realized what he had said.

Juliana met his gaze for a long moment, her dark eyes flashing with merriment. “I’d love to, Andrew,” she said softly, her beguiling Mona Lisa smile curling the corners of her lips. Andrew couldn’t pull his eyes away from that smile, couldn’t stop the sudden roller-coaster tickle in his stomach. Maybe he was coming down with something, the way his heart was racing and his face was feeling flushed. Had to be a fever coming on. The flu maybe. You might know. He’d probably be sick in bed on his day off tomorrow.

Or maybe it wasn’t the flu at all. Maybe he was having an allergic reaction to…to Juliana!

He was more than a little relieved when the waitress brought their food. As he bit into a crusty slice of garlic bread, he resolved that he would have to watch his step around this woman. She had a way of making him feel like a bumbling, tongue-tied teenager again. Why did she have to look at him that way, as if she could see through to his heart and read his very thoughts?

“Andrew,” she said in her light, lyrical voice. “Andrew?”

He cleared his throat and stared at her. “Yes?”

“You were staring. I thought you were about to say something.”

His composure shattered, he groped for a suitable answer. “Yes, you’re absolutely right, Juliana. I was about to say—”

“You were going to ask her about her life, weren’t you, Daddy?” prompted Cassie.

“Her life? Yes, of course.”

“Ask her about her music,” Antonio said. “Mama is quite an accomplished performer in her own right.”

Andrew gave Juliana an appraising glance. “Is that so? Do you sing?”

Juliana gazed down at her plate. “From time to time.”

Antonio reached over and squeezed his mother’s hand. “Mama is too modest. She has performed in concerts around the world.”

“When I was young,” Juliana protested. “Rarely do I sing anymore.”

“Why not?” prodded Andrew. “Cassie and I would love to hear you sing sometime.”

“And I would love to hear you deliver a sermon, Andrew.”

“Oh, he’s good at delivering sermons,” Cassie teased.

Juliana laughed lightly. “I mean, from the pulpit. I imagine you are a very eloquent man.”

“Eloquent? I doubt that. But I do try to help folks catch a glimpse of what God has for them in His Word.”

“Then I will come hear you some Sunday morning. Unless there’s a better time.”

“Actually, our church is joining with several others for a city-wide crusade in November. I’ll be preaching every evening during the week…presenting some of my favorite messages.”

“Wonderful. Perhaps Antonio and I will come hear you.”

An idea struck. “You could do better than that. You could come sing for us.”

“Me? Sing for you?” A radiant glow suffused Juliana’s face. The blush of modesty had never looked so lovely. “Oh, Andrew! I couldn’t! I do not sing for large crowds anymore.”

He retreated, feeling a discomfiting warmth around his collar. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot or embarrass you. Sometimes I blurt things out without thinking.”

Juliana placed her slim hand over his. “Do not apologize. I am flattered. And touched by your offer. But I am not the one you should be asking. Antonio is the one who should sing for your crusade.”

Andrew broke into a grin. “Maybe you’re right, Juliana.” He gazed across the table at Antonio. “How about it? Would you consider singing for our city-wide crusade?”

Antonio looked over at Cassie, as if to gauge her reaction.

Cassie beamed. “Oh, Antonio, please! We would be honored to have you sing at the crusade!”

“I’ll check my calendar, and let you know. But I think we can work something out.”

Andrew nodded, pleased. “And I’ll submit your name to the committee. It’s just a formality. I’m sure they’ll approve.”

Antonio cast another searching glance at Cassie and said with a hint of merriment, “I’ll sing, Cassandra, on one condition.”

“What’s that?” she asked with a note of caution.

“That you accompany me on the piano.”

Cassie sank back in her seat. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

Antonio squeezed her hand. “Of course you can. We will do a marvelous duet together. Everyone will be enchanted.”

Andrew’s grin deepened. He broke into silent applause. “Wonderful! Splendid! I’ll arrange everything. The two of you will make beautiful music together!”

“Daddy!” cried Cassie in the scolding, horrified tone she reserved for her father’s worst blunders.

“It’s just a figure of speech, muffin,” he said in his most conciliatory voice. But privately, seeing the two of them together—his darling daughter and her handsome tenor—he had a feeling this was the beginning of something more than a musical duet. God willing, it was the blossoming of a rare and beautiful relationship.

Chapter Five

O n a balmy Friday evening two weeks after the cantata Cassie pulled into the parking lot at her father’s church. She was to meet Antonio at seven to rehearse their numbers for the upcoming city-wide crusade, but she was tempted to turn around and drive home. It was crazy. Her stomach was in knots and her emotions on edge, jumbled. She was as nervous as a cat on a high tension wire. She yearned to see Antonio again and yet dreaded facing him, fearful he might expect more of her than she could deliver.

That was it, of course. How could she play the piano for Antonio when she felt so jittery she wasn’t even sure her fingers would strike the correct keys? How had she allowed her father to talk her into accompanying Antonio at the crusade?

Actually, it was Antonio who had insisted she accompany him. Was he doing it to torture her, to make her look bad, to show her up as a mediocre musician? Surely not, and yet that’s exactly how she felt. He could have chosen the most accomplished pianist in Southern California…but he had asked Cassie. Why hadn’t she just said no?

It still wasn’t too late to back out. She could simply make some excuse and leave. Surely it wouldn’t be hard for Antonio to find another pianist….

But the moment Cassie entered the sanctuary and saw Antonio standing beside the grand piano as he sorted through some sheet music, her heart did a double flip, and she knew she was glad she had come. No matter how terrified she felt at the prospect of accompanying him at the crusade, it was worth the discomfort just to be in his presence again. Surely he was the most handsome man she had ever seen, with that distinctive Roman nose and square jaw and high forehead. And when he looked up at her and smiled, those dark, brooding eyes flecked with gold and amber held her spellbound. Did he like what he saw? She was wearing a pale-blue pantsuit and stacked heels. Was she overdressed? Underdressed? How did one dress for an occasion like this? It was more of a nonoccasion, not a date certainly. Not a date. Then why did she care so much how she looked and what he thought of her?

“Hello, Cassandra.” His gentle voice felt almost like an embrace.

Cassie was breathless. “Hello, Antonio. I hope I’m not late.”

His eyes crinkled, flashing warmth and amusement. “Not at all. I must have been early.” As she approached he stepped forward and gave her a brief embrace, the kind one gives a casual friend. But his closeness—his smooth cheek against hers, the lime fragrance of his aftershave—was enough to send Cassie’s senses reeling.

In his easy, graceful stride he walked back over to the piano and arranged the sheet music on the stand. “I guess we should get started. Are you ready?”

She sat down on the piano bench and smiled up at him. Could he hear her pounding heart? Sense her nervousness? “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

For all of her anxieties and trepidation, the evening went like clockwork. Like magic. As Antonio sang and she played, something extraordinary happened. They performed as one, in perfect synchronicity, as if they had spent their entire lives performing together. Each seemed to know instinctively what the other was about to do; even their musical interpretations matched.

Cassie found herself feeling pleased, exultant, even euphoric. She sensed a new excitement and passion in her playing, a fresh burst of confidence. It was as if Antonio had unwittingly freed some deep creative impulse within her.

After their rehearsal, as Antonio walked Cassie to her car, he said with a hint of levity, “My dear lady, was it my imagination, or did we sound sensational together?”

She hesitated, struggling for words. “You…you sounded superb, I know that much.”

“But there was something magical, electric going on here tonight,” he persisted. “Didn’t you feel it? It’s not always that way when I sing. Admit it, Cassandra. We were soaring.” He touched her arm gently. “Please, don’t tell me it was all one-sided. Am I wrong?”

“No, I felt it too. It was…extraordinary.”

He chuckled. “Now if we just sound as good to the rest of the world, we’ll be all set.”

He opened her door for her, then clasped her arm before she stepped inside. “Cassandra, wait. I have an idea. I’m too jazzed to just go home and call it a night. Would you like to go somewhere? Get something to eat?”

She was about to say she wasn’t hungry, but quickly canceled the remark and said instead, “Yes. I’d like that.”

“More Italian cuisine?”

“No, it’s too late for a big fancy meal. How about the little coffee shop around the corner? They’ve got great burgers.”

“Burgers it is. Why don’t you leave your car here and ride with me?”

She looked up and caught his infectious smile. “Okay, Antonio. Lead the way.”

He escorted her across the parking lot to a large luxury sedan, a deep burgundy color with a black leather interior. He opened her door and she slipped inside. “A beautiful car.”

“Not as beautiful as its passenger.” He lingered a moment, his eyes fastened on her, then went around to his side, got in, and they were off.

As he drove she cast several surreptitious glances at his finely chiseled profile. He was a gorgeous man, no doubt about it! Even in sport shirt and slacks he looked debonair. And yet he seemed completely unaware of his stunning good looks.

In the coffee shop, as they ordered burgers and fries, she realized he looked too cosmopolitan for a greasy spoon like this. She fidgeted with her water glass, the napkin, the silverware, silently chastising herself for not suggesting a more sophisticated restaurant.

But once their burgers were served, Antonio seemed quite at home and ate with genuine relish, as if burgers were his favorite repast. Halfway through the meal he leaned over and touched her lips with his fingertips. She thought for an instant he was going to kiss her, but instead of whispering sweet endearments, he simply said, “Ketchup.”

Embarrassment sent a flush of warmth to her face. “I’m sorry. I’m such a klutz.”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s a lovely face with or without that tiny dollop of ketchup.”

“I’m like my dad. I need one of his spaghetti bibs.”

“And you promised to show me those one of these days.”

“I will. Whenever you and your mother come over for one of our spaghetti dinners.”

He traced the ring of his water glass. “We should make it soon. I think my mother is quite taken with your father.”

Cassie’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

“I know so. She’s mentioned his name a number of times since the four of us went to dinner together.”

Cassie smiled. “I think my father is quite infatuated with your mother, as well. She’s a beautiful woman.”

“Yes, she’s quite remarkable, especially considering that she’s had to go it alone for so many years.”

“How long has it been, if you don’t mind my asking? How long since your father died?”

“A long time. I was just a boy when he died.”

“Was it an illness?”

“No.” A long pause. “An accident.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been very painful for you, losing your father at such a young age.”

“It was. But then you lost your mother. You know how hard it is.”

She lowered her gaze. “Yes, I do. But I was grown. Almost twenty-one.”

Antonio drummed his fingers on the polished tabletop. “I was ten. I stopped being a child that day.”

“I don’t mean to pry…but was it a car accident?”

He looked sharply at her, his jaw tightening. “How did you know?”

She retreated. “I didn’t. I guessed. But maybe you’d rather not talk about it.”

“It’s in the past. There’s nothing to say.” He looked off in the distance for a moment; then as he gazed back at her, his expression softened. “I’d rather talk about the little spark I noticed between your father and my mother.”

Cassie laughed lightly. “My father has often accused my sisters and me of playing the matchmaker. We’ve always denied it, but in this case I may have to plead guilty.”

A curious smile flickered on Antonio’s lips. “Are you saying you’re trying to get our parents together—my mother, your father?”

Cassie’s cheeks grew warm. “I’m not trying to marry them off exactly, but I would like to see my father have some female companionship.”

“I would think there are dozens of eligible ladies in his church who might desire his affections.”

“There are, but he’s never paid much attention to them. It’s as if, since Mom died, he’s turned off that part of his life. I hate to say it, but in some ways it’s like he died with my mother. I mean, sometimes I even hear him talking to her, as if she were there in the room with him. I don’t think that’s healthy, do you?”

Antonio shrugged. “All I know is that my mother is very much like your father—not in personality, of course. In that sense they’re as different as night and day. But in the way she has dealt with her grief. She lives a very full, productive life, but she avoids even the hint of a relationship with a man. If a man tries to get close to her, she immediately cuts off the relationship.”

“I know what you mean,” Cassie said. “My father hides behind his three daughters. We’re always his excuse…the reason he can’t go here or there or do this or that. He’s made us his life. None of us has dared leave home. We’re afraid Dad will fall apart if the family breaks up. Not fall apart exactly, but deteriorate. Become a hermit, a recluse. We all try hard to still be his little girls, but we can’t go on like this forever.”

“You’re right,” Antonio agreed as he polished off the last morsel of his burger. “You need to be free to have a life of your own. You and your sisters.”

“Yes, I do. We do!” Cassie smoothed out her straw wrapper, making it very neat and flat. “But it’s not like I have some man waiting in the wings. Not like I want to run off and get married. It’s nothing like that.”

“Oh, of course not. I wasn’t implying…”

“I mean, there could be someone…there have been men I’ve dated, some very nice men…”

“I’m sure. Very suitable, no doubt.”

“Yes, suitable. But nothing serious.” Except for one. Drake Cameron. But she refused to think of him now. She inhaled deeply and declared, “I have no intention of getting serious with anyone until I’ve established my career.”

Antonio sat forward, his elbows on the table, his gaze solemn and direct. “A wise decision, Cassandra. I’ve made the same choice for myself. I have more than enough responsibilities already to occupy my time. And I have many goals. I will not always be a university professor, teaching others how to sing. I intend to work hard to carve out a niche for myself in the world of classical music. And I will not let any woman complicate my life until I am well established. That, of course, may take years. Perhaps even then I will prefer the single life.”

Cassie nodded. “I admire your drive and determination.”

“And I respect your pluck and honesty. Very refreshing.”

Cassie sipped her iced tea. “I’m glad we’ve had this little talk, Antonio. It feels good to speak so openly, to be so frank.”

“Indeed. To say what’s on our minds.”

“Absolutely. So often these days men and women play such silly little games….”

He flashed a wry grin. “Yes, they do. Foolish, inane schemes to woo one another. I detest such duplicity.”

“Oh, so do I,” said Cassie fervently.

Antonio’s voice deepened. “Why can’t people say exactly what they think and feel and let the chips fall where they may?”

Cassie’s pulse quickened with excitement. This was truly a man after her own heart. “I feel that way exactly, Antonio. I have no patience with all the subterfuge and artifice involved in courtship today. A man brings a woman flowers and tells her how special she is and then treats her as if she’s just another dish, his…his flavor of the week.”

Antonio’s brows arched in surprise; his umber-brown eyes glinted with concern. “Has that happened often, Cassandra?”

“To me?” She touched her throat, flustered. Had she said too much? “Oh, no, not often, but enough to make me skeptical when I hear a fancy line. You know. ‘Where have you been all my life?’ That sort of thing. That’s why I’m so turned off to dating. It’s always the same old thing. Lots of sweet talk, hearts and flowers, then, ‘Your place or mine?’”

A mixture of tenderness and bemusement flickered in Antonio’s eyes. “You are jaded, aren’t you? Someone must have hurt you deeply.”

Cassie gazed down at her half-eaten burger. A pang of memory pierced her for a moment. Drake Cameron. Why couldn’t she forget? Why couldn’t she put him out of her mind once and for all? She pushed the memory away, ignoring the pain. “Someone did hurt me once, but it’s not something I want to remember.”

“And now I’m prying, is that it?”

She studied Antonio for a moment. He had a good face, handsome, of course, but there was so much more in his expression. Integrity, sincerity, compassion. She smiled. “Honesty is good, but some things are better left unsaid. You would rather not talk about your father’s death. I’d rather not talk about the men in my life.” She chuckled. “Not that there have been that many, believe me.”

“I do. And I will respect your wishes.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “If we’re going to be friends, it’s good to know where we both stand.”

She smiled. “I agree. I like that. Being friends. Without complications or expectations.”

“Actually, we will be more than friends,” Antonio said.

“More than friends?”

He laughed. “Didn’t we agree to be colleagues in a friendly little conspiracy…?”

“Oh, you mean our parents. Of course!”

“To help them discover a happier, more fulfilling life?”

“To encourage their friendship at least,” Cassie agreed. She raised her water glass in a mock salute. “To your mother and my father…and whatever the future may bring.”

Even as she and Antonio toasted their harmless matchmaking scheme, she had an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. What was it? What was her heart trying to tell her? She had no words for it, but she sensed she was opening the door to a barrage of emotional complications she had never bargained for. And now, as Antonio clasped her hand across the table, she knew it was too late to turn back.