Carousel Nights by Amie Denman Page A

can’t break it.”
    Ross used one finger to pick out the melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” only missing and retrying a few notes. He looked to June for approval when he finished.
    â€œNice. Where’d you learn to do that?” June asked.
    Ross shrugged. “Just figured it out. I have a music box that plays it. When it’s on, it makes a star pattern on the ceiling of my room.”
    â€œThat makes you an expert on this song. It sounded so good, you should try it again,” June said.
    The boy played the melody again, a little more confident this time, stumbling over only one note.
    â€œLet’s add some harmony, just for fun. You keep doing that, and I’ll play on the lower keys. All you have to do is keep a steady rhythm.”
    Ross turned a questioning look to her.
    â€œI mean don’t speed up or slow down.”
    â€œOh. Okay.”
    Ross played melody, and June filled in a robust harmony, improvising and having fun. The music filled the theater, echoing from the empty seats and balcony. She’d played that piano all day, concentrating on making every single thing perfect. But this was different. It was fun . No competition, no need to be perfect.
    â€œOne more time,” June said. “We’re a great team.”
    They ran through the song again with June adding some variations. Ross had a smile a moonbeam wide and had gained enough bravery to use two fingers at a time.
    â€œThat was awesome,” he said. “Can you teach me to play all by myself?”
    June ached to say yes, but she wouldn’t be in the area long enough to get through the first few songs in the piano lesson book. He needed a piano teacher who’d stick around.
    â€œWell,” she began, “with talent like yours, I think you could pick it up really fast. So you probably need a very good teacher who can keep up with you.”
    A floorboard creaked behind her. She and Ross turned quickly, almost bumping heads above the piano bench. Mel leaned against a pillar at the edge of the stage, arms crossed, intently watching them.
    â€œDid you hear me playing, Daddy?”
    Mel smiled at the boy. “Sure did. You were amazing.”
    â€œHe has quite an ear,” June said. “Where’d he get all that artistic talent?”
    She wished she could go back in time five seconds and tell herself to shut up. Remembering too late that Ross’s mother was off somewhere trying to build a career as an artist instead of being here seeing her son grow up made her heart feel as if someone was squeezing it. She could only imagine how Mel and Ross felt. How could anyone not want to be around a kid as sweet as Ross?
    Mel’s expression became unreadable. “Ready to go, son?”
    â€œCan I play a little more? Want to hear the whole thing again?”
    His expression softening, Mel nodded. “If your partner doesn’t mind.”
    â€œAre you kidding? I love this. Takes me back to when I was his age doing exactly the same thing.” She leaned closer to Ross. “I used to hang around this theater all the time.”
    â€œDid your dad work at Starlight Point, too?”
    June laughed. “Yep.” She bit her lip and glanced back at Mel. He was smiling, too.
    â€œFrom the top,” she said.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    J UNE TAPPED HER foot and scrutinized the front of the Midway Theater. Finally . Opening day for live shows. The past four weeks were a blur of crowds, rides, popcorn and plenty of long hours. And today was a huge debut. She was as nervous as she’d been on opening nights of the Broadway shows she danced in. Even though she wasn’t performing, her heart was on stage with those young dancers.
    She’d thought of everything. She hoped.
    Music, pacing, lighting.
    Zippers, hairpieces, smiles.
    Everything. Except getting someone to replace the letters on the Midway Theater marquee. When the workers painted the building’s facade a