A Season For Tenors

Susan Kirkland


As she spoke he noted her innocence and engaging demeanor.

She's nervous, yet, still refined. Classy. Those eyes again, those smiling Irish eyes. They're heavily fringed...black lashes, with a light blue iris. The combination is electric and most unusual. Great hair...full and rich. A curving figure. Small waist. The jeans fit to perfection. Why is it, he thought, that Americans can wear jeans so well? She's dressed almost boyish...yet, she's completely feminine. Enchanting."

"...and I was at your Metropolitan Opera debut of Rigoletto."

"How well I remember, Michaeleen. `I want to sing with you one day, Paul. I wish it with all my heart.' Who could forget a line like that!"

Michaeleen blushed pink. "My mother was right," she smiled, "she said you'd never forget me. And Paul, the wish was genuine. Do you think we can sing together one day?"

"Absolutely, Michaeleen. But you must finish school first. And in another two years I'm sure..."

"No, not two years, Paul. I have only a year's scholarship and enough money for one year. Then I must work. You see, I had to leave my father. He would not support my career, and..."

"Yes, Jose told me. He also said that your Mother died. You've had a few difficult years."

"And you too, Paul."

"Yes, I guess we're both grieving."

Their eyes locked just for a few seconds, and there passed between them an understanding, and a flood of warmth bright as sunshine.

"Do you have a favorite composer?" he asked.

"Puccini," she answered. "I could sing every opera he wrote. The beauty of his music moves me."

"What particular role would you like to sing?"

"Mimi, of course. And the slave girl, Liu, from Turandot. Her death is so dramatic...beautiful arias. And of course, Madama Butterfly. Manon Lescaut has always fascinated me. But away from Puccini, the role of Micaela in Carmen, and then I'd love to..." Paul interrupted, putting up his hands. "I understand completely." His smile drew her in. "You could sing them all, correct?"She looked at him shyly..."Yes, I want to sing them all."

"With that ambition and your excellent start here, you probably will. But all in good time, Michaeleen." He stood, picking up his jacket. "I don't want to keep Treavor waiting with lunch. It's been great seeing you again. The next time we meet may be on the opera stage!"

She suddenly stiffened with panic. He's ending our conversation...leaving...I haven't said everything I wanted to say.

He saw her eyes widen with fear, looking up at him, her knuckles were white as she gripped the arms of the chair. He met her eyes and a wave of tenderness enveloped him. He wanted to hold her, draw her to him, rock her in his arms...protect her. She's captivating, he thought.

"Paul," her voice broke on his name.

"Yes, dear," he answered kindly, his eyes alive with interest. She looked like she might cry.

"I...we're presenting La Boheme next Friday and Saturday. Do you think...I mean...would you like to come? I'm singing Mimi."

The invitation was sweet and she was charming. He reached down for her hands, holding them gently in his own. She felt safe with him. She wanted to lay her head on his broad shoulder, touch his hair, his face, and feel his kiss. With her hands in his, the world was beautiful. I belong to him...her eyes met his. Can't you see, Paul?...we belong together.

She rose to her feet before him, her hands gripping his, waiting for an answer."Why not!" he said, lightly squeezing her hands, then stepped toward the door. "I'll bring my daughter, Antonia. She's only five and has never seen an entire opera. A student production will be perfect for her. Saturday night. Leave two tickets for me at the box office."

"Oh, how wonderful!" She clasped her hands together, smiling happily as she stepped to the door. He leaned down to grasp the handle, coming close to her. She turned to thank him, then walked out.

Paul slowly put on his blazer. Her hair smelled like...what was it? Clean and soft...like a familiar flower...dark lashes on that soft white cheek...she's so beautiful...I could wrap my arms around her waist twice. I want to see her again...Oh God, what am I thinking? She's just a girl! And she belongs to Jose. A sting of jealousy irritated him. He straightened his collar, looking out the window, then stood still in deep thought, hands on his hips. It's been so long since I've felt anything for a woman. And she?...was I mistaken? He smiled. I think she was coming on to me...By God, she was coming on to me! And I loved every minute of it!