There was a different light on Graduation Day now. Gone was the sense of an end. It was replaced with a wonderful sense of a new beginning.
Uncle Simon brought a truckload of flowers over to decorate the stage, and the people who attended said it was the most beautifully adorned graduation they had ever seen at our high school.
The band teacher asked me to play a solo piece as part of the program, but I asked if I could do a duet with Chandler instead.
“If he’ll do it,” he said. He had long ago given up on Chandler doing anything at school performances. However, Chandler agreed, and we performed a Beethoven sonata. The applause was deafening.
When the principal handed us our diplomas, he announced what our future plans were to be. I saw how impressed everyone was when they learned I was going to a prestigious school of performing arts in New York City.
“We’ll hear about this girl soon enough,” he declared.
Mommy’s eyes were drowning in happy tears, and Daddy and Uncle Simon looked like twins with their matching smiles of pride.
There were a number of parties afterward, one of the biggest and most elegant at Chandler’s home. He and I made an appearance there and then left under the excuse of having to attend a few others. His parents didn’t seem to mind. They were enjoying their friends. His mother soaked up her role as hostess.
“I thought I was going to suffocate in there,” Chandler declared.
We laughed and drove off, but instead of going to another party, we returned to our favorite place on my farm. Chandler had brought a blanket along and we spread it out and lay beside each other, gazing up at the splash of stars.
“I always found it fascinating that people in the same hemisphere, thousands and thousands of miles apart from each other, could look up at the same stars,” Chandler said. “You see that group twinkling there, the Seven Sisters?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s declare them ours tonight, and every time we can see them let’s think of each other, forever and ever, no matter where you are or where I am.”
“Okay.”
“You’re going to be a famous person someday, Honey. You’re going to do wonderful things.”
“What about you? You’re just as talented, if not more so, Chandler.”
“I don’t know. I don’t burn with it the way you do when you play. Not yet at least.”
“You will.”
“Maybe,” he said smiling. He kissed me. “I do love you,” he said. “I can’t imagine falling in love with anyone else as deeply.”
“I hope not,” I said. “I didn’t think you would want to love me. I thought you would become impatient and angry with me because I wanted to wait until…to wait before we…”
“I can’t help loving you.”
“I know it’s different for boys. They don’t want to be teased, disappointed.”
“I’m not feeling teased, but I’m not saying I’m not anxious about it.”
He smiled and ran his fingers down my neck and over my breast, bringing his lips to mine.
“There aren’t many girls your age who would stop, who would want it to be so special,” he whispered.
“Maybe it’s because of the way I was brought up. Maybe I’ve got to break free of so many things first. Maybe I’ve got to stop seeing Grandad in the darkness, making me feel guilty. I can’t help being afraid—not of going to hell, but of becoming like him, spending my life hurting people so I would feel less guilty about myself. Does that make any sense?”
“Yes,” he said. “Tomorrow, you will start to leave it all behind. I believe in you, Honey, more than I believe in myself.”
He put his arm around me so I could cradle my head against his shoulder and we looked up at the stars again. A cloud drifted along, blocking the Seven Sisters.
“Get off there,” Chandler cried. “Go on with you.”
The cloud moved away.
And we laughed and held each other and filled our hearts with the faith that we could always do that, always blow away the clouds that threatened our stars.