The Christmas Violin Read Online Free PDF Page B

had hoped to raise Luke in.
    Willow headed to her studio, which she had added on to the house. The studio was her cocoon. It’s where she felt most safe from the outside world.
    Photos of Luke lined the classic gray walls. Her favorite one was black and white, taken at the beach when Luke was three. He’s holding a sand bucket and shovel and a thunderous wave is breaking in the distance behind him. Willow smiled at the memory.
    It was Luke’s first, and only, visit to the beach and he had loved playing in the sand. Although Willow loved the beach, she hadn’t been back since Luke died. There were so many things in her life that she stopped doing because they reminded her of Luke. And, even though she was working through her grief, it seemed as though she still had an Everest to climb. Maybe one day she’d reach the top, having finally conquered that huge mountain of grief.
    She picked up her violin and bow and closed her eyes. She warmed up with a few of her favorite pieces then slid into Bach’s Violin Concerto in E Major. It was the piece she was performing with the local symphony at its upcoming holiday concert. Each year, she performed as a guest soloist at the event, which raised money for the local arts association.
    Max, her cairn terrier, watched from his perch on the leather chair. He rested his chin on his paws. Willow had bought Max a few months before Luke died. She wanted Luke to have a dog, like she had growing up. And when they saw the cairn at the pet store, Luke didn’t want to put him down. So, she didn’t make him.
    The nanny wasn’t particularly excited to have a dog to look after, too. But once she saw Luke and Max together, she wore her smile like a favorite pair of jeans.
    Hours passed before Willow realized that dinner had passed, too. No matter. She’d take Max for his evening walk and eat a sandwich or maybe cereal when they got back. Max had waited so patiently. It was the least she could do.
    “Come on, boy,” she said.
    Max jumped off the chair and followed her outside where they were greeted by the sweet laughter of the neighborhood kids.
    The Old Woman
    The old woman wobbled through the library toward the front door. She liked to be out of the library by the time the noisy school kids swarmed the building. Like termites they scurried into every nook and cranny. Once, she stumbled upon two teens making out in the biography section. By the way the teens snarled at her, you would have thought she was the one doing something inappropriate.
    She made it down to the first floor and waited by the heavy wooden doors for someone to come in or go out. The doors were too heavy for her to push open. She didn’t have to wait long.
    “Nicholas,” said a mother, grabbing her preschooler’s hand. “Let the lady go first.”
    The old woman shook her head frantically. She didn’t want them to wait for her to go out. She couldn’t go first. Didn’t they understand the door was too heavy for her?
    The dark-haired boy, frightened by the woman, who was now uttering “No” continuously, buried his head into his mother’s thigh.
    “It’s OK,” said the mother, realizing that the old woman wanted help with the doors. “These doors are heavy.”
    The mother pushed open the door, and the old woman maneuvered her cart out the door and down a few stone steps.
    A boy on a skateboard narrowly missed plowing her over. A bear of a man sitting on a cement stoop smoking a fat cigar yelled and alerted the old woman.
    “Damn kids,” he said to the old woman as she passed by. “Them kids gonna kill somebody one of these damn days. Damn cops don’t do nothin’ ‘bout it.”
    The old woman just kept going, as though she hadn’t heard a thing the old man had said. And the old man gave up trying to have a conversation. He went back to smoking his fat cigar. And just as he was flicking the ashes onto the dirty sidewalk, a tall man with dark hair darted from a nearby alley and attacked the old woman,