“‘The few years ahead may be lonely, for me certainly, but I do not hesitate, nor must you—’”
Judy’s hand shook as she held the light. “Your mother is brave!” she said feelingly, for the first time forgetful of her own unhappiness.
Karl folded the letter, put the flashlight back in his pocket.
“I must write to Mr. Werther. But what? He’s waiting to hear from me. He doesn’t know me. He’s never heard me play. Suppose I don’t live up to his expectations—and all that money wasted!” He touched Judy’s hair, no longer the thick pony tail, but hanging soft and luxuriant on her neck.
“Here I am bothering you with my troubles and uncertainties.” He shook his head. “Although you’re a kid as years go, you’ve lived all your life with musicians. You must have heard some of their problems discussed. Tell me, how does all this strike you?”
“I’m thinking, thinking hard, Karl.” She stared in front of her. She must be honest. Suppose this chance had come to another boy, not to Karl, not to the boy she loved. What would she say? She was remembering her mother and father speaking. Why had this friend not taken the position in the orchestra he had wanted so much? Was it because he didn’t feel good enough? No, it was money! He just couldn’t afford to wait the six months or more before the position came through. His family needed money. He took a job with a musical show instead.
“These men,” her father had said, “never get back to the playing they’ve been trained for and really love.”
But Karl with Mr. Werther’s help can get to the top! She pressed her hands together as if seeking some inner strength. “It’s a wonderful opportunity, Karl!” She was surprised at her voice, its fire and enthusiasm. “You shouldn’t hesitate. Such a chance may never come again!”
The flame in her eyes kindled his. “That’s what your father said to me tonight.”
He took her hands in his, pressing them until they hurt. “I feel as if a stone has been lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t know how much I wanted you to say just that.”