rowd. I had never seen such fervor in a
spectator. She was shaking her head, back and forth--I could see the
tears glistening on her cheeks--she threw kisses. In an instant, the
applause grew to a tremendous roar that crashed against the front of
the stage... and then the audience, en masse, were on their feet. I
could almost not believe it--a standing ovation for "Harold in Italy"?
No, it was all for Jenny.

The reception afterwards was gorgeous. I stood back, still hovering
close to Jenny while she took the greetings of her friends and random
members of the audience, including the large woman with the
handkerchief. I sipped a California white wine that was far too young
and sassy, and let her bask for nearly an hour. She still could not
stand up, of course, so they had brought her a padded chair from
somewhere, and she sat straight-backed like a little monarch, with a
big bouquet of pink roses nestled in the crook of one arm, nodding and
smiling. The other hand was perpetually extended to receive other
hands--and on a few occasions to receive a kiss from some lecherous
old geezer.

It ended all too soon for Jenny, I could see. But when I glanced at
her face as the last of the stragglers were leaving the room, I could
tell she was dead tired. The pain in her ankle could not be masked any
longer either. She winced and stretched out her legs when I approached.

"Daddy, let's stop by the hospital on the way home, OK? Just to make
sure it's not broken or anything."

I laughed. "Sure thing, Jenny." She had always been small, like her
mother, and had never grown too big to carry. I lifted her up, and
holding her viola case in one hand, carried her out to the parking lot.
The rain had stopped, and half the clouds had dispersed. The moon lit
up the remaining clouds like big silver scoops over the far hills--and
a few stars twinkled overhead in the cold air.

I whirled around, and around as I walked. "Let's see," I kept saying,
"was it this way?" And I would whirl her one way. "Or was it that
way?" She was in giggles, with her arms clasped behind my neck.

We found the car--I knew where it was all along, but I was having fun.
When we reached the car, I set her down on her feet for a moment to
fish my keys out of my pocket. Meanwhile, I handed her the viola case,
and she took it absently. She turned around then, and seeing the front
of the car for the first time, burst out in a squeal. "What the hell