Carole Page - Cassandra's Song

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.

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.”