Forevermore (18 page)

T
he twinkling lights in the ancient kirk emit amber hues over the stone walls. The crowd gathered in the seating area below the stage are cast in shadows. Only in the first few rows are the faces visible.

I’m here. At the Strings of the Highlands festival. In Inverness. Wicked sweet.

Sir Malcolm Catesby, famed violinist, is in the audience somewhere. The thought makes me sweat a little.

But in the front row, Logan’s stare is fastened directly onto mine, and I smile.

Nervous butterflies beat a crazy rhythm inside of my stomach. I can’t believe I’m one of the violinists competing. It blows my mind completely. There are twelve of us and we stand in a single row across the stage.

Emma helped me pick out my dress last night. It’s a simple black shift, with a pair of black strappy heels that aren’t too daring or high. They’re just right. She insisted that I wear my hair down, and I did. She says the black dress shows off my sassy pink streak. I hope she’s right.

I glance into the audience again. Emma is sitting beside Logan, and she’s holding hands with Serrus. Next comes my mom, now hugely pregnant and beaming. Then Niall and, yes, Gran Elizabeth — the last person I’d thought would be showing up to support me. She looks serene and proud. They’d met Logan, who I’d introduced as a cousin come to live with the Munros, and had instantly taken a liking to him. Jonas is here, too, and even Ian cleaned up for the event.

I can’t see the second row, but I know it’s made up entirely of the other Munros. Amelia, Ethan, his brothers and cousins. I shake my head. I still can’t fully grasp everything that’s transpired.

Headmistress Worley is seated off to the side, and I catch her gaze. She gives me a thumbs-up.

I’m number seven down the line of violinists, and the first six are phenomenal. My nerves are jumpy, but every
time I look at Logan he smiles, and immediately, I feel calm again.

“And for your pleasure, next is our lovely American, Miss Ivy Calhoun, playing her own composition, ‘Forevermore.’” The director nods to me, giving me my cue to begin.

The lights dim, all except the one centered on me. I let everything wash through me, over me, all that’s happened since I first set foot at Glenmorrag. It races through my veins and winds its way to my fingertips like a live thing. My arm lifts, sets the bow, and slowly, I begin to play. Every emotion I feel, for my dad, my mom and Niall, my soon-to-be siblings, my new friends, and even old Elizabeth, pours into my melody.

Especially my feelings for Logan Munro. They have become my muse.

Everything inside of me is silent, save the music.

And I play. The melody starts out haunting. I change tempo, and add that something extra that makes the music mine. It’s sometimes frowned upon, but I’ve learned to accept me for me.

And this is my music. My way. My bow flies over my
strings, faster, faster, and then slows. The music evokes the ghostly spirit of the Highlands.

When I finish, I’m out of breath. The applause is deafening. It’s what brings me back to the stage, from the place I go to when I sink into my song. My gaze finds Logan’s, and he’s standing with the rest of them, clapping so hard and grinning so widely, my heart soars.

Then he mouths the words
I love you.

I smile, and then I laugh.
I love you, too,
I mouth in return.

I realize it doesn’t matter if I win the contest or not.

This is my life. My destiny.

Unbelievable stuff. Stuff you find only in fairy tales.

Except this time, it happened for
real
. Logan’s for real.

And he’s all mine.

Forevermore.

T
o the following, I owe way more than mere gratitude and thanks. I owe you a piece of my heart for helping Ivy, Logan, and
Forevermore
leave the recesses of my imagination and become a reality.

My mom, Dale Nease, is my biggest fan, and her constant love and support will be with me until I’m old and gray. My daughter, Tyler, is always there to listen to my ideas and keep my voice young. My best friend and author sister, Kim Ungar, is there for daily chats, brainstorming, recipe swapping, encouragement, and all-around life. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

My fantastic agent, Deidre Knight of the Knight Agency, is so much more than an agent to me. She believed in
Forevermore
and me, and for that I’m eternally
grateful. My editors, Aimee Friedman and Becky Shapiro, helped me realize
Forevermore
in a whole new light. Their input/editing/ideas have been magic! Artist Tricia Cramblet and cover designer Yaffa Jaskoll brought Ivy and Logan to life on the book’s cover. Such a beautiful and fantastic job!

Best friends and Wolfpack — you know who you are — keep me laughing, living life to the fullest, and are always encouraging. We will have the funniest memories long into our elder years! Long-time pal, world travel buddy, and sister author, Leah Marie Brown, and I have shared many crazy adventures, and they’ll always inspire my life and writing.

And finally, Angus J. Maclennan is owner and proprietor of the fabulous Ivy Cottage in the Highlands of Scotland, and was also my landlord there for two and half weeks. Ivy Cottage’s lands are complete with ancient standing stones and close to dozens of historical sites and castles, and were and are sheer inspiration for my writing. A true and proud Scotsman from the ancient Isle of Lewis, Angus, along with his sister, Ishbel Maclennan, helped me with the beautiful Gaelic language used in
Forevermore
. Ishbel also supplied the gorgeous Scottish Proverb that
opens the story. To actually hear the Gaelic language spoken is pure enchantment! Thanks again to Angus, his wife, Fiona, and their adorable Highland dancing daughter, Emma, and Shep, their naughty fence-jumping sheepdog! It was the most memorable and inspiring trip to Scotland I’ve ever experienced! Without all of you, the story simply wouldn’t mean so much to me.