Agnes
Thea’s violin bow glided across the strings, her face so sweet and innocent and utterly concentrated that I found myself blinking back tears.
When Elijah and I had slipped into our seats just moments before the recital began, she had spotted us immediately. The brief flash of relief in her eyes had been worth all the drama with my father and the flat tire.
Now, watching her perform her solo piece, I felt a swell of pride so intense it nearly took my breath away. It was clear that Thea adored playing the violin, and it showed in the intensity of her concentration, in the skill she had picked up just from a few short months of practice.
When the final note faded, there was a moment of perfect silence before the audience erupted into applause. Thea’s face broke into a ra
