In Plain Sight Page 2

  “Hell, Laura, I feel like such an ass,” hissed Amber. “Why isn’t he wearing dark glasses? For Pete’s sake, the man should have the decency to give us a few clues. It isn’t as if we’re all clairvoyant.”

  Micah asked the remaining cast members to go up to the stage, and as they moved from the dressing room to the theater, Misty berated herself. Hadn’t she learned the hard way not to judge a book by its cover? Hadn’t the mistake she’d made trusting Kevin O’Hara been enough to convince her not to let her eyes deceive her? She felt the need to say something to Nick, to apologize to him for Amber’s rude comments, but before she could approach him, Micah called the cast to order and explained how the night’s rehearsal would proceed.

  “Places, everyone,” called Micah. “Nick, whenever you’re ready.”

  Misty watched as Nick removed his jacket and set it on the floor beside him. He placed something in his pocket, walked over to the eighty-eight key digital piano and sat down on the bench. He spread out his arms and spanned the keys with his fingers. Mesmerized by his actions, she watched as his hands, with beautifully long tapered fingers — what her mother would have called the hands of an artist — brushed over the keys.

  “Here,” Nick said, removing what he’d put in his pocket earlier and handing it to Micah, who placed a small, personal recording device near the speaker. Tonight they would only use the hanging microphones, but on performance nights, the soloists would all wear individual mikes.

  “Nick assures me this will pick up all your voices nicely; no need to sing or speak louder than you normally would. I can assure you, when it comes to music, this guy knows all the tricks and loves his toys.”

  The cast laughed softly, but Misty could tell many of them were as worried as she was that they might not live up to a retired musician’s standards since none of them was anything other than an amateur — well, maybe she had more experience, but that was a secret she couldn’t share with anyone. Would he realize she’d had more than a little voice training? Micah had said he was a retired musician, but he hadn’t stated what kind of musician. Misty watched as he familiarized himself with the instrument he’d play.

  He must play by ear, she thought. She’d known a lot of musicians over the years who played by ear, but not all of them could pull off something of this magnitude without a musical score. As a pianist, no doubt he’d be fine, but the musical had a forty-piece high school orchestra backing up the vocalists, not the seasoned performers you’d find in a professional presentation of the musical. It wouldn’t be easy to conduct the band if he couldn’t follow the score.

  Why Micah wanted him to fill in for Jolene she couldn’t imagine, but since the high school music teacher was unable to continue, perhaps there hadn’t been anyone else available on short notice. Substitute teachers could fill in at the high school, but this took someone with extensive knowledge of music. Since many of the tickets for the performances had been presold, and the presentation was a much-needed fundraiser for the local medical clinic, they had to go ahead as planned.

  She sighed and allowed her usual fatalism to take over. This was just another glitch. There wasn’t anything they could do about it. She’d play her part, sing her songs, and hope it all worked. That twinge of fear she’d had that someone might recognize her in the play gnawed at her for a few seconds, but then who from her past would come to Pine Falls, New York, to watch amateur theater? Although the small town was in a tourist area, it didn’t attract the crowds the way Lake Placid, Saranac Lake, and Tupper Lake did. Potsdam and Canton, the two largest urban areas nearby, were both college towns, but it was unlikely anyone from New York City would see her in sleepy little Pine Falls. Amos was probably right; it wasn’t anything to worry about.

  Chapter Two

  The cast members took their positions on stage while Nick gave the keyboard another brief test. His touch was perfect. Seemingly satisfied that he was positioned the way he wanted to be, he waited for his cue from Micah to begin to play the first song. He pressed the necessary buttons, and the orchestral sounds of strings, brass, and percussion filled the room. He began to caress the keys, and the rich introductory notes of the “Overture” merged with the other sounds and flooded the theater. He played smoothly, and when the cast began to sing, they’d never sounded so good. If Misty hadn’t been attracted to him before, she was now. Any man who could coax such sweet music out of an instrument had a special place in her heart.

  As the various scenes unfolded, with each character rehearsing their lines and songs, Nick’s hands flew along the keys, creating the incredible music that accompanied them. She hadn’t had the opportunity to practice her solo as often as she’d have liked, but when he began to pick out the notes for her, her voice rose to the sweet sounds of “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” and she knew she’d nailed it. Knowing she’d done her best tonight was more satisfying than the applause she’d received on her opening night on Broadway five years ago. Amazing how times had changed.

  At the crucifixion scene, he played “Superstar” so beautifully that her eyes filled with tears, even though she’d heard the song played more than a dozen times before. As soon as they’d finished that piece and prepared to move on to the final scene, Nick adjusted the buttons on the instrument with the familiarity of someone who’d played it many times. When he performed the final number, the sound filled the empty theater. Her heart in her mouth, Misty thrilled to the richness of the music and how well he played.

  She could hardly wait for opening night. When the theater was filled, there would be a fitting majesty to the musical, even though theirs would be an amateur rendition. The fact that their performances would span both Christian and Greek Easter would make the show timely, and hopefully their revival would raise their portion of the hundred thousand dollars needed for the new X-ray machine and other upgrades to the local clinic.

  “That’s a wrap for tonight, ladies and gentlemen,” Micah said, handing Nick the small recording device he’d used to record the play. “I believe Nick wants to speak to the vocalists, but those of you who are in the chorus can go home. Don’t forget, we have a rehearsal on Thursday at seven and on Saturday at ten. We open in a week, folks. Ticket sales have been good, so we should do well, and the clinic will be able start its expansion in the spring.”

  The cast members picked up their props and headed back downstairs to the dressing rooms. Misty joined the other soloists in the front row and waited for Nick to speak. She was worried. Although she realized his facial expressions weren’t aimed at her per se, he didn’t look a whole lot happier now than he had earlier. Had they not done as well as she thought they had, or was he still worried someone would criticize his ability to do the job? He turned around and faced them.

  His full lips parted to reveal even white teeth, and his whole countenance changed. He beamed, and suddenly, instead of the sullen man she’d glimpsed when they’d been introduced, she saw a gorgeous man who was open and friendly. His smile animated his face, showing off the dimple in his left cheek, making him seem younger and more approachable, and that vague sense of familiarity gnawed at her again.

  “Wow! I’m impressed. Your musical director has done a hell of a job,” he began, but his face grew serious once more. “When Micah asked me to fill in for Jolene, I was a bit leery; I haven’t played much in the last few months, but since I’ve performed these particular pieces several times, he thought I could help him out. For the record, in case some of you aren’t aware of it, this is definitely a case of nepotism; I’m Laura and Micah’s brother-in-law. I was helping out with the musical because I’ve chosen to make Pine Falls my home, but my help had been very much behind the scenes. Now I’m front and center, even if it’s the last place I want to be.”

  Misty watched his face and saw a look of such sorrow cross it that she was taken aback. There was real anguish there, but it was quickly hidden. She concentrated, trying to rememb
er something. Hadn’t Amos told her Laura’s sister had been killed in a traffic accident the year before last? That would mean he was a widower, and judging by the flash of sadness she’d just seen on his face, he was having a hard time getting past his loss. He continued speaking.

  “I overheard Laura telling some of you that I’m blind. Up until eighteen months ago, I could see as well as anyone, but I’ve lost my sight, and until recently, my left side would go numb at the most inconvenient times. I’ve only been playing well enough to even attempt this for about three months, so I hope I won’t let you down at a crucial point in the performance.”

  His face, extremely expressive, showed how much that idea worried him, and Misty wondered if part of the grief she’d glimpsed came from the loss of his vision and his career. Becoming blind would have impacted his life in so many ways. She couldn’t imagine waking up and no longer being able to see. She sighed. So many people took their sight for granted. She listened carefully as he continued addressing the vocalists.

  “I’d always relied on my ability to read music as well as listen to it when I was learning new pieces, so playing completely by ear has taken some getting used to.” He laughed deprecatingly. “At times I feel a bit like John Stanley, the Baroque musician who lost his sight and went on to become an organist at the age of eleven. Frankly, I can’t imagine how he did it. If I hadn’t known how to play an instrument, I doubt I could learn now without my sight, especially one as complicated as a pipe organ. I’m perfecting my ear, but I’m still not confident with new pieces just yet. I’ll also be working with the band at the high school until the musical is over.” He cleared his throat and stood up.

  “I’d really like to speak with each of you individually, but I can sense that everyone is tired, and I know it’s late.” He raised his arm to show his watch and pressed it; the watch spoke. “The time is twenty-two: twenty-six.” He laughed, a pleasant sound that made her feel warm inside.

  “Even a blind man needs to know the time. I’ll talk to the ladies tonight, and guys, I’ll talk to you Thursday night before the rehearsal if that works for you.”

  The men agreed and went downstairs to change, leaving Misty, Amber, and two other women with Nick.

  He spoke to them as a group, and then individually, praising the way they’d sung their parts and encouraging them to continue rehearsing on their own. When he’d finished, he let the others go, but asked Misty to stay a few minutes more. Misty wondered what he wanted. He’d praised her voice, so she knew it wasn’t that.

  “I’m guessing I was an ass, and I owe you an apology,” he said. “I love Micah, but he isn’t very good at giving me the social cues I need when I’m being introduced. I gather I snubbed you in some way; at least that’s what I think Amber meant. I’m assuming you held out your hand to shake mine, and I ignored it. I’m sorry. I would never have willingly slighted you. I also got the impression I appeared to be staring; I hope you understand that whatever look I may have had on my face had nothing to do with you. If you look as good as you sound, that is indeed my loss. I suppose I should consider wearing dark glasses to avoid that particular trap.”

  Embarrassed, Misty shook her head in denial, and then, realizing he couldn’t see her, she spoke quickly. In her haste, her voice had a catch to it, a neediness she found disconcerting.

  “No, please don’t apologize. We shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions either. Amber is rather protective of me and took offense; I was fine, honestly.” Now she was babbling. Why don’t I shove my other foot in my mouth?

  Nick stuck out his hand. “Misty. Sorry, I don’t remember your last name; I’ve never been good with them, and my blindness hasn’t improved that. Pleased to meet you. You have an incredible voice; I haven’t heard one like it in a very long time, and I can honestly say I didn’t expect to hear it in Pine Falls. I was fortunate enough to see this musical performed several times, and your voice is as good as any I’ve heard — better than most.”

  Misty reached for his extended hand, completely unprepared for the sensation of heat that flooded her when their fingers and palms met. It was as if an electric current raced through her. No man’s touch had ever affected her that way. He held her hand a moment longer than necessary, as if reluctant to break the contact, and the look of surprise on his face testified that something unusual had happened for him, too.

  “Thank you,” she stammered, caught off guard by the incredible experience of touching him. She cleared her throat; she was afraid she’d say or do something stupid in her nervousness. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating. I saw this musical performed on Broadway, and I know how incredible that singer was. If I’m even half as good as she was … ” Misty couldn’t keep the huskiness out of her voice. Time to escape. “I’ll see you at rehearsal on Thursday. You play beautifully. I have to go; my ride’s waiting.” She fled from the room before he could utter another word.

  • • •

  Nick sat with his back to the keyboard listening to Misty’s footsteps as she hurried out of the theater. What had just happened? His hand pulsed with heat and energy. He hadn’t imagined that jolt of electricity through his body, the flash of lightning that had illuminated his darkness. He’d been struck mute, unable to utter a sound. He’d shaken more than his fair share of hands, and no one had ever affected him that way. Had she felt it, too? She’d sounded flustered before she’d left so abruptly.

  Without sight, it was harder to judge someone’s initial reaction, but she’d let him hold her hand a second longer than necessary, and he’d felt her pulse race almost as fast as his. Hell, he was still breathing heavy, and all he’d done was shake her hand. He stared into the black void in front of him as he had every waking moment of his life since the accident. He’d come to hate the blackness that surrounded him, but just for a moment tonight, when he’d touched her, there’d been light.

  Her voice! She had a wonderful voice, an angel’s voice, the kind of voice that belonged on Broadway, not in some small-town theater production. She must have had vocal training. He hadn’t been kidding; she could out-sing more than half the so-called divas out there today. He pulled the small hand-held recorder he’d brought with him and rewound it to the track he wanted.

  He pressed play, and her powerful, soulful voice filled the room. Nick had recorded all the soloists, but this was the only one that mattered. Micah had raved about her voice, and Nick had recorded her number simply to prove to them both that, while her voice might be good, it wasn’t memorable. Listening to someone on tape often brought his or her vocal flaws to the surface. As the song continued, he had to admit there were no flaws here. He’d been hoisted on his own petard. For the first time in his life, he was glad he’d been in error.

  Micah was a car salesman, not a Broadway producer, nor was he a musical director, and though his little group had done well in the past, they’d never attempted anything quite so grand. This time, knowing the intricacies of such a production and the need for it to succeed, Nick had thought Micah had bitten off more than he could chew.

  How could he have been so wrong? Not only was the Pine Falls Theater Company more than up to the task, their version of the musical, toned down as it needed to be to meet their production limitations, was original, and they had some real talent in their midst. He replayed the tract, mesmerized by the hypnotic quality of Misty’s voice. He continued to listen to her sing because she touched his soul, that part of him he’d thought as dead and lost as his vision.

  He wondered fleetingly what she looked like. Her voice had carried into the hall where he’d been standing with Micah before they’d entered the room. He knew from her quirky comments that she must be short since she didn’t think the pink stripes made her look taller. A smile crossed his face at her sense of humor when he remembered the way she’d compared herself first to a cabana and then a clown; he figured that possibly she was on the more voluptuous side, curvier tha
n Becca had been. He had always liked women with a little meat on their bones, but he’d been mesmerized by Rebecca, and it hadn’t been until much later in their relationship that he’d realized what a cruel, self-centered bitch his wife had been.

  The song ended for the third time, and he turned the recorder off and slipped it into his pocket. He stood when he heard footsteps coming into the theater and recognized his brother-in-law’s gait and the Old Spice aftershave he favored. People rarely noticed the way they walked or whether or not they’d been heavy handed with the cologne, but he’d learned to recognize a lot of sounds and smells he’d previously ignored.

  “Ready to go? That wasn’t so bad, was it? I told you they were good, and you didn’t believe me,” Micah said. Nick picked up his leather jacket and slipped it on.

  “Yes, they are good, and no, it wasn’t so bad,” admitted Nick. “You were also correct about getting out, meeting people, and playing for an audience again, even if it was a captive one. It felt really good to be able to share my music again, something I’ve missed far more than I was willing to admit. I noticed a few glitches in my playing, but I’m not sure they did. If Nico Antoni can’t play the way his fans expect him to, he needs to stay retired. Come on; I believe I owe you a beer.”

  “The Rusty Nail okay? I was right about Misty’s voice, wasn’t I? Come on, I want that beer before you renege on our bet.”

  “No fear of that. I gave you my word. I won’t back out now.” Besides, he was more than a little taken with a certain young vocalist and her incredible voice. He’d like to get to know her and find out why, with a voice like that, she’d never considered a career in music. Maybe he could make some calls and have a few agents come upstate to hear her sing. He’d ask her first though; not everyone with talent wanted to be a diva. He’d thought he’d heard someone say she has a child. Before he got too carried away, he’d better get his facts straight. The lady could be married. The possibility of a husband upset him far more than it should.