Her skin was cold and clammy. Her lips were tinged with blue. Her heart pounded so hard I could see it under the thin satin of her nightgown and in th... pulse at her throat. She tried to talk to me but she couldn’t. All she could get out was: “He is leaving me.” So I became your damage control. What did I do? I picked her up from the floor. I brushed away her tears and held her as closely as I dared. A part of me was afraid she would break, as if she were made of fine crackled glass. I held her. The next morning I was on pins and needles thinking she may not show up. I was standing in the sanctuary when through the doors came the blonde French horn player from the year before. She also played piano and was a very versatile musician. Needless to say I was very pleasantly surprised. She agreed to play for us until we could find someone and then decided to apply for the job herself. Since she was already there it was basically a no brainer and she took on the duties of choir director. More

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