Maestro Read Free Page A

monosyllabic responses. He didn't much like to talk. It was okay. They didn't need to talk. They'd be there for each other, and most importantly, they'd be there for Maestro.
    Annasophia tried not to think about the picture she'd printed out, the one which had been attached to the email from the person supposedly lost in time , but she had tucked it in her purse. She wanted to discuss the picture with Maestro, but she didn't want to do it while Matt was around. He was so incredibly down to earth. He would probably think she was crazy or that she had faked the picture using a graphics editing program. That was something she'd considered, too. People could do all kinds of crazy things on graphics programs. It was certainly the most logical explanation, but that didn't convince her gut, which told her that in this case the most logical explanation wasn't necessarily the right explanation. Yeah, somebody could find a picture of Maestro back from his heyday as a concert pianist in some old magazine. Somebody could splice it together with a picture of her. Somebody could even change her clothing for the picture, if they were good enough at digital editing.
    But that glow of love on her face. Annasophia had never seen it, had never felt it, but she knew with everything in her that's exactly how she would look if she were apeshit in love with a man. How could a graphics whiz, no matter how gifted, have faked something like that?
    “Annasophia?” Matt said. “Are you ready to go?”
    Her thoughts had carried her away, off to where – when? – she'd stood cuddled up against a much younger Maestro's broad chest. His face – young and healthy and shining with love – rode front and center in her mind like the brilliant full moon on a clear night. A beacon. In what way, she couldn't possibly know, but she'd do everything she could to find out. If what the picture spoke of were true – that somehow, she'd traveled back in time – then Maestro had to know about it. Even given everything she'd known about him since the age of six, she might only be at the beginning, even if he was, right now, dying.
    A heartening thought, that.
    Resolutely, she lifted her chin. “Yes, Matt. I'm ready.”
     
    * * * ~~~ * * *
     
     
     

Chapter Two
    Annasophia and Matt arrived promptly for morning visitation at the Intensive Care Unit, though they had to see Maestro one at a time. That was excellent; she would have a chance to show Maestro the picture. Matt went in first to visit his dad, and when he came back, his eyes were filled with tears. She patted his shoulder, and he opened his mouth as though to speak. Instead, he turned abruptly and went to the men's room.
    What had he been about to say? Fear wrapped long, icy fingers around Annasophia's heart.
    She walked into Maestro's room, expecting to see him ashen and immobile, but to her surprise, he was awake. Though he still looked desperately ill, he did look a little better than he had last night, though that was likely due to the dialysis flushing the toxins from his body. What a relief to see him lying down, though the head of his bed was elevated. Annasophia glanced at the numerous bags of IV solutions suspended beside his bed. One of those medicines must be for pain. Tears welled in her eyes and she put her hand over his. Why hadn't he told her about this? She could at least have been there for him. She wanted to cry at the thought of Maestro dealing with this for a month, all alone.
    His gaze lit up, and he gave her a little smile. “Hi, Anna.”
    She took his hand. “Hi, Maestro.” Her voice broke a little, but she held his gaze. She would stay strong for him, no matter what. He had been her anchor for so many years – an anchor in joy, a refuge in hope – and now, it was her turn to be his anchor. No, she wouldn't give up hope. As long as he was alive, she had reason to hope.
    A drop of water landed on the back of her hand, and she started. One of her tears. With her other hand, she