Gentle.
Almost like a lullaby.
Yet after only a few measures, Mrs. Parker whispered something I barely heard from my seat.
“Thomas.”
Owen heard her.
He stepped closer.
“You know the song?”
Mrs. Parker didn’t answer.
She stared at the piano as if the instrument had somehow transported her backward through time.
Ms. Delgado continued playing.
Then the former students began to sing.
Not words.
Only the melody.
Soft voices filling the auditorium.
Mrs. Parker bent forward and covered her face.
I stood.
I didn’t know whether she was overwhelmed or ill.
But before I could reach the aisle, she lifted her head.
And she was smiling.
It was a heartbreaking smile.
When the music ended, the applause began slowly, then spread through the room.
Mrs. Parker didn’t appear to notice.
She turned to Owen.
“Where did you find the music?”
“In your box.”
“No.” She shook her head. “That song wasn’t in the box.”
