L.A.R.K. Writers

The majestic strains of a cello and piano drifted through the small auditorium, sweeping the audience into rapt attention.  The soloist stood to the left of the cellist and pianist, poised elegantly as she waited for her cue to come in.  The flowing melody changed keys suddenly and the pace picked up in anticipation of what was to come.  Just as the tension was reaching its highest point, the soloist began to sing and the cellist and pianist resolved the tension in low undertones. 

    “Araya, you sang so well this morning!  It was beautiful!  I mean, you should sing like that all the time.”  Klaire exclaimed as they wandered out to the pasture after dinner.
    “Oh, thank you, Klaire.  But you know how we prayed before the performance;  God was the One who gave me the ability to sing so well this morning.”
    “Mmm, yes.”  Araya nodded in agreement.  “I’m just so excited; we’re playing in Carnegie Hall this winter!”
    “Lord willing, yes.  Now let’s enjoy this beautiful weather before we have to go inside and practice our fingers off again.”  Klaire and Araya shared a laugh and picked up their pace as they neared the gate that led into the pasture.  A sleek brown mare whinnied at the sight of the two girls and galloped towards them from the far side of the pasture.
    “Molasses, ol’ girl, you ready to be ridden?”  Klaire called out as the horse drew nearer.  The mare snorted in response and pranced impatiently as Klaire slipped the bridle she was carrying into place. 
    “You sure you don’t want me to run back to the barn and get your saddle?”  Araya asked.
    “Nah, thanks though.  Bareback’s fine with me this afternoon.”  Klaire threaded her fingers into Molasses’ thick mane and swung abroad with graceful agility.  “Unless of course you’d rather ride with a saddle?”
    “No, it’s fine.”
    “You want to ride double?”
    “That’s okay; I’ll wait my turn.  Might even just walk for a while...  You go ahead and get your riding in!”  Araya smiled and stepped back.  Just as she did, she saw Klaire’s face go pale. 
    “Klaire, wh--”
    “Don’t move, ‘Raya!”  Klaire whispered fiercely.  Molasses felt Klaire’s tension and sidestepped nervously.  The snake hissed loudly, angered at the disruption of it’s sunbathing.  Molasses reacted immediately, striking out with her hooves and bucking wildly.  The last thing Araya remembered seeing was Klaire, flying through the air, arms flailing.

    Viola sat on the porch, enjoying the warm summer afternoon sun after a delicious meal prepared for the three sisters by their aunt.  Before she knew it, drowsiness took over and she was lost in a world of dreams.
    Viola woke to the sound of the screen door opening.  Aunt Leina stepped out onto the porch, a pitcher of lemonade in hand. 
    “Oh, I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep!  What time has it gotten to be?”  Viola asked as Aunt Leina came over and sat down beside her on the porch swing.
    “It’s nearly six o’ clock...  You must have been exhausted!  Either that or just enjoying the down time.  Apparently Araya and Klaire lost track of time as well; they said they’d be back by around four.  Your uncle left about fifteen minutes ago to go check on them.  Just to make sure, you know.  We’ve been having rattlesnake problems more than usual this year and you just don’t want to take any chances.”
    “Oh, no.  You don’t think--”
    “Oh, don’t worry, Viola, I’m sure Klaire and Araya just lost track of time; Jeremiah will be back with them in no time.” Aunt Leina tried to reassure Viola.  As if to mock Aunt Leina’s words, Viola’s cell phone suddenly began to jangle loudly. 
    “It’s Uncle Jeremiah,” Viola said as she picked up the cell phone from it’s resting place.  Her heart dropped as thoughts of the worst swirled through her head. 

    Twenty minutes later, Aunt Leina and Viola were rushing through the hospital’s corridors, hearts pounding.  Uncle Jeremiah met them as they rounded a corner.
    “How are they?”  Viola asked anxiously.
    “Klaire’s gonna be okay; broken arm, but the doctors think that’s all.  They’re still doing x-rays to make sure everything else is all right.” 
    “And Araya?”  Viola dreaded the answer, seeing Uncle Jeremiah’s grim face.  Please, Lord Jesus, please let her be okay.  She pleaded silently. 
    “She’s in emergency surgery.  Horse must’ve caught her face with a hoof; I can’t say for sure; Klaire doesn’t remember.  She’s in good hands though; we’ve got some of the best doctors in the state here.”  Uncle Jeremiah responded.

    A week later, Viola and Klaire sat by Araya’s hospital bedside as the mid-afternoon rays of sunshine swept lazily through the room.  Klaire had been released from the hospital the day after the accident, her right arm bound tightly in a cast.  Araya had come through surgery well, but the recovery process would be long.  A broken jaw was the prognosis.
    The day had been creeping by; there wasn’t much to do sitting in a hospital room.  Klaire flipped through the channels on the TV in a futile search for something to watch.  Just as she was about to turn it off, the commercials switched to a string trio performance.  The three girls stilled and watched the screen until the piece was over.  They all looked at each other, bitter tears of disappointment glittering in their eyes.
    “We won’t be playing in Carnegie.”  Klaire finally voiced what they were all thinking.  “All that practice; all those years playing together ... All for naught.”  Klaire sighed in disgusted despair as she looked over to see what Araya was scrawling across the notepad that had become their only means of communication.  At least we had all those years together; we should be thankful for the times we were able to spend playing together.  God has blessed us and we can always enjoy those memories. 
    “Mmm... Yes, Araya.  Leave it to you to bring up the bright side of the situation!  Living up to your name; Araya Sunshine.”  The three girls shared a smile, remembering their parents’ clever way of putting into name how they felt their daugher was a ray of sunshine.
    The silence stretched as all three girls became lost in thought again.
    “Wait, guys, wait!  Don’t despair yet!”  Viola suddenly jumped up, hands clasped in front of her mouth in thought. 
    “What?”  Klaire asked, absentmindedly picking at a thread on her cast.
    “Araya, you still have your arms; and Klaire, you still have your voice.”  Viola cast a meaningful look in their direction, hoping they’d catch her drift.
    “Viola, you can’t mean--”  Klaire frowned in doubt and Araya shook her head violently, then grimaced as the pain set in.
    “Yes!  I do mean it!”  Viola argued.  “I think we can do it!  Araya, you played violin for a few years before you gave it up to focus on singing... I’m sure with the right help, you could pick up the cello.” 
    “And what about me?  I can’t sing!”
    “Yes you can, Klaire.”
    “Not like Araya.”  Klaire protested. 
    “That’s where training will come in.  We still have a few months; that’ll give us time to work.”  Viola declared matter-of-factly.
    “A few months.  That won’t be enough time!”  Klaire wailed, wringing her hands in frustration.  Viola gave an exasperated sigh and put her finger to her ear, cocking her head to the left in her standard “thinking position”.
    “Maybe they’ll give us an extension; let us postpone playing until next year.  Surely they can change their concert schedule if we tell them right now while there is still quite a bit of time.”  Viola remarked, looking to her sisters to gauge how they were taking in her idea.  Araya’s eyes lit up, and she frantically started scribbling on her pad of paper again.
    ‘If they’ll give us an extension, say another year, that would give Klaire and I enough time to heal and go on with our plans as normal!’  
    “Yes; exactly!  That’s what we must do; see about an extension!”  Klaire responded enthusiastically. 
    “Right on it!”  Viola quickly packed up her needlework and dashed for the door.  “I’ll run to Uncle Jeremiah’s and telephone the director of events at Carnegie!”
    Klaire and Araya clasped their hands in hope and waited anxiously for the next thirty minutes.
    After what seemed like forever, the sounds of heavy footsteps interrupted the sisters’ hopeful musings.  Viola appeared in the hospital room doorway, her face downcast.  One look told Klaire and Araya all they needed to know.
    “No changes in the schedule are allowed; it’s set in advance for a year.”  Viola informed them, her voice cracking from the emotions of the last hour.  “We have only two choices; cancel the concert or perform in December as planned.”  Viola flopped down on the spare hospital chair, disregarding ladylike propriety in her distress.
    “Then we’ll have to do the switch as you’ve suggested, Viola.”  Klaire announced resolutely, then proceeded to sing a phrase from one of their favorite pieces, ending with a dramatic crescendo and taking an exaggerated bow.  Her antics brought a twinkle to Araya’s eyes and a weak chuckle from Viola.
    “Very well then.  Araya, are you in agreement?”  Araya nodded her head slowly, then more firmly as she realized the movement didn’t cause a sharp stab of pain anymore.
    With the decision in hand, the voice lessons began that very moment, with Viola offering verbal hints along with Araya’s written instructions. 
   
    A week later, Araya had been released from the hospital to convalesce at Uncle Jeremiah and Aunt Leina’s.  The three sisters worked hard hour after hour, day after day, intent on Carnegie Hall. 
    “No, no, no!”  Klaire wailed as Araya finished a measure of Beethoven with an awkward screech of the bow as the girls were in the middle of a practice session one late afternoon.  “Don’t be so forceful when you’re playing at the frog; it’ll only result in wretched scratching.  Try again; with a lighter hand this time!  It’s not rock and roll, after all!”  Klaire instructed.  Araya resolutely began again, her left hand rocking in a slow, wide vibrato.  As she finished the phrase, Klaire smiled broadly.
    “Better; much better.”
    “All right; let’s try it all together at measure 56.”  Viola instructed, turning back to the piano. 
    Close to an hour later, the girls called it quits and packed up for the day. 
    “Four months.  We can do it.”  Klaire stated confidently, giving both of her sisters a firm pat on the back.  

--And that's all I have so far.  Let me know if you think I should finish it! =P  And any ideas for a title?