Maya nodded, trying to hold onto his words.
"There is someone here to see you," Dr. Holloway said. "I hope you do not mind, but I invited a special guest."
He stepped aside, and Maya saw her mother standing in the hallway. Lynn was wearing a new dress—deep blue with silver threads—more beautiful than anything Maya had ever seen her wear. Her hair was done nicely, and she was wearing small earrings that sparkled in the light.
"Mom," Maya breathed.
Lynn rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her daughter. They held each other for a long moment, neither of them speaking.
"I am so proud of you," Lynn whispered. "So proud."
"I wish Dad could be here," Maya said, her voice muffled against her mother's shoulder.
Lynn pulled back and looked into Maya's eyes. "He is here. He has always been here. Every time you play, you bring him back to life. The music you make, it carries his spirit. Tonight, when you walk onto that stage, he will be walking beside you."
Maya felt tears threatening to fall, but she blinked them back. She could not cry now. Not yet. There would be time for tears later.
"I have something for you," Lynn said. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small, worn photograph. It was the same picture that Maya kept on her desk, the one of her father sitting at the old piano. "I had this one framed," Lynn explained, turning it over to show a small clip on the back. "You can attach it to the inside of the piano where only you can see it. That way, your father will be right there with you when you play."
Maya took the photograph with trembling hands. She looked at her father's face, his gentle smile, his hands resting on the keys. "Thank you, Mom. This is perfect."
A stage manager appeared. "Miss Chen, five minutes."