LITMIR.BIZ

       CHAPTER TWO

      THE AUDITORIUM SEATS at Saint Mark’s Elementary School were filled to capacity with parents, grandparents and students who applauded as the final curtain fell on the traditional Thanksgiving pageant. Adam Masterson bolted to his feet and proudly yelled “Bravo!” as his son, Titus, took another bow.

      Adam felt his heart swell and his sight blur watching Titus’s smile radiate across the expanse. Titus. The light of his life, the motivation that forced him to get out of bed in the morning despite the shroud of grief he wore since his wife, Amie, had died three years ago. “Well done!” Adam shouted, smiling at Titus, who stood next to Timmy Bosworth, dressed in a Pilgrim costume.

      Timmy took Titus’s hand in his and raised it over their heads. “Thank you and happy Thanksgiving!” Timmy announced to the crowd.

      The audience erupted in more applause as the curtain fell for the last time.

      “Adam,” Sarah Bosworth said, as she hoisted three-year-old Charlotte into her arms, “Titus was wonderful. He recited his lines like a professional actor. I felt like I was right there on Plymouth Plantation with those kids.”

      Adam couldn’t help the rush of pride that shot straight up his spine. “He was good, wasn’t he?”

      “He was. Timmy told me that he and Titus only practiced three times.”

      “I’ll let you in on a secret,” Adam said, bending closer, his hair falling over his forehead. “I think Titus has an eidetic memory. The first time I took him through his lines, he’d memorized everything.”

      “No kidding?” Sarah’s eyes widened. “Wish I had that ability.”

      Adam glanced toward the stage and saw some of the kids running down the aisle. “He’s been reading since he was three. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at anything he does.”

      “Trust me,” Sarah said. “Gifted children aren’t easy. I know. Both Timmy and Annie are exceptional, and just last week, I caught Charlotte here sitting at the piano playing with Annie.”

      Adam chucked Charlotte under the chin. “A prodigy, huh?”

      Charlotte tossed her blond curls and laid her head on Sarah’s shoulder. “I like piano.” Charlotte smiled up at Adam.

      “Dad! Dad!” Titus shouted exuberantly, as he worked his way through the throng of parents leaving their seats. Titus’s rented Pilgrim costume was faded but fit well. He did struggle with the black hat, which tended to interfere with his ever-present sport band that held his thick glasses in place. Titus’s mom had been myopic, too. But unlike Amie, Titus tended to be quite clumsy, always impatient to race to the next room, the next day and the next adventure.

      “Dad! Did you see me?” Titus hurried up to Adam and flung his arms around his waist.

      Adam smoothed Titus’s thick black hair away from his forehead and looked down into his eager crystal-blue eyes. His son looked exactly like Adam had when he was “nearly six”—minus the glasses. “I did! And you were the best. You did great.”

      “Thanks, Dad.” Titus hugged him again.

      Timmy Bosworth rushed up to Sarah, along with his eleven-year-old sister, Annie.

      “Mom,” Annie said. “Can I take Charlotte backstage to see Mrs. Cook?”

      Sarah narrowed her eyes. “Why does Mrs. Cook want to see your baby sister?”

      Annie glanced sheepishly at Titus, who had a conspiratorial expression. “Um. I told her Charlotte could play piano.”

      Charlotte squirmed out of Sarah’s arms. “I can play!”

      Annie reached for Charlotte’s

Скачать книгу