For the first couple of days after sending Daniel the email Melissa kept her email program up and checked it constantly. Nothing. She consoled herself with the thought that at least she hadn't gotten a notice saying it couldn't be delivered.
She did get the copy of Daniel's CD that she'd ordered. And began to play it constantly. "Other Plans" was still her favorite but she liked a couple of the other songs almost as much.
As the days passed her sense of anticipation flagged. After two weeks she was back to her regular routine of checking her email only once a day.
DANIEL HAD GOTTEN out of the habit of reading his email on a regular basis. He hardly turned on his computer at all anymore. He wasn't trying to write. He'd lost interest in the music business. There didn't seem to be much point.
But today he'd happened to wander into his office for something and remembered that he probably should take a look. There wasn't much. It had been months since he'd sent anyone an email and the spam filtering software he'd installed took care of most of the junk. There were a few things. He opened one from someone named Melissa Fleming.
Hello Daniel Burnham,
I found your email address online and decided I really wanted to write you.
I love your song "Other Plans". The idea of someone caring enough to want to unselfishly heal another's heart means a lot to me. And it was wonderful how the person who was healed was then able to love again. It's a great song. Thank you for writing it.
By the way, we're neighbors! I live in Cedar City too. Maybe we'll meet one day.
All the best,
Melissa
He wasn't sure what it was about this short letter that caught his attention but as the days passed every now and then the thought of it would enter his mind. He even went back and reread it a couple of times. But every time he considered sending her a reply all he could think of were the potential complications. And that thought made him feel tired and drained.
ON A QUIET SUNDAY afternoon, almost a month later, Melissa came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to respond. In the meantime she'd looked in the phone book and obtained his number. But she didn't have the courage to call him. So, not knowing what else to do, she went online and used the Gogol search engine again. To her delight she was directed to a notice for a personal appearance Daniel would be making at Strange Brew, a local club with a microbrewery that featured live entertainment, the following Friday.
The days seemed to go by exceedingly slowly but at last Friday evening arrived and she was crossing the threshold into Strange Brew with her stomach fluttering with nervousness. The first thing she noticed was that it was a young crowd, mostly University students. Sitting down at one of the small circular tables with an enclosed candle flickering in the center, she saw that the small stage was filled with a drum kit, keyboard, and a couple of electric guitars on stands. In front there was a stool, microphones, and an acoustic guitar.
When the waitress came around to her table she ordered one of the beers brewed in-house. Sipping it she waited, glancing at her watch in the dim light. Just as she was beginning to wonder if Daniel was actually going to appear a tall gangly man with a shock of black hair made his way to the stage.
"Good evening folks," he said into one of the microphones. "I'm James Russell, the owner of Strange Brew. And I want you all to welcome an amazing songwriter who lives right here in Cedar City. He's just had his first number one record but I know there will be more to come. Please welcome Cedar City's own... Daniel Burnham." Melissa joined the crowd in applauding enthusiastically. A man of medium height with short sand colored hair and round eye glasses in wire frames rose from one of the tables near the stage.
"Thanks," he said into the microphone after he'd picked up the acoustic guitar and settled himself on the stool. She noticed, as he introduced the first song, that he seemed quite comfortable being in the spotlight although there was an odd strained quality in his manner, as if he were pushing himself through this by sheer will power. Once, however, he lost himself in playing the song, it was as if a switch had been flipped; there was a passionate intensity that made her sit on the edge of her seat. She knew all but two of the eight songs he played, since they'd been on the CD she'd ordered. One of them was "Other Plans".
When he was finished he carried his guitar offstage to tumultuous applause. Standing by the table he'd vacated earlier he acknowledged the crowd's response with a forced smile and half bows. As soon as the clapping died down he bent over to place his guitar in a case that had been leaning on the table. It was as if he'd wrapped himself in a force-field of reserve. Melissa saw several people begin to approach him and then back away. He didn't even seem to notice. He picked up the guitar case and began walking rapidly toward the back of the room. Melissa quickly drank the last of her beer and hurried after him.
Fearful that he'd left already she moved towards the door while searching the room. Then she caught sight of him standing by the end of the bar. He and James Russell were talking. Melissa walked towards them, feeling awkward. James handed him an envelope, patted his shoulder, and turned to speak to one of his bartenders.
"Mr. Burnham," she said. She hated hearing the quaver in her voice.
He turned to look at her.
