VOCALISE - CHAPTER 5 (+ a drawing)
Title: Vocalise
Rating: PG13
Warning: Established character death. T__T
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Length: 5400 words (this chapter)
Prompt: based on a prompt by amles80
Summary: A/U - Miranda is a choral director and Andy is a journalist who enjoys singing. Miranda has a painful past and Andy has to learn to believe in herself. Miranda is 47, Andy is 26 in this story.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Devil Wears Prada.
Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
A/N: Hmmm okay, I think maybe the whole singing part is getting a bit cheesy and very cliche and, I blame it on my love for music and watching too much GLEE. ^_^ However I hope you bare with me, because Miranda will deal with her biggest issue and the music, as gloriously overdone as it may seem, will help her with it. ^_^
Bonus: So I felt the Christmas spirit today and just had to “draw” a little chibi version of Miranda with Andy’s scarf. It was done in MS Paint, so it’s nothing great but it kind of expresses how I want to just squish Miranda sometimes... ^_^
Chapter 5
It was Sunday night and Andy had worked most of the weekend in order to get Christmas off. It would be her first Holidays on her own, her parents having finally booked that trip to Europe they had been dreaming about forever, and Andy did not want to spend most of the time in the office on top of everything else. She was a Christmas person, and at least Doug had invited her over to his folks so she’d still be around people she loved.
Drying her freshly showered hair she padded into the living room and turned on the TV where a tiny Macaulay Culkin was climbing up a bookshelf to steal his brother’s money. Home Alone. How fitting, she thought while sitting on the couch to pull up her striped Christmas stockings in all their cheesy red and white glory. She wriggled her toes and knew she must be looking ridiculous in her red pyjama shorts and her large, white Rudolph hoodie.
But it was nearly Christmas and she was alone, so she could run around her tiny, but warm apartment however she liked. She settled into the soft pillows and pulled up a blanket. Andy was kind of disappointed that she had missed choir practice on the last day before their first concert, but the price for being a budding journalist was that she had to work strange hours. At least it meant she’d have Monday off as well.
The phone rang and she blindly reached for it on the side table behind her.
“Hello?”
“Hi Sweetie!” Her mother’s warm voice greeted her cheerily.
“Hi mom, all packed yet?” She snuggled back under the blanket and kept her eyes on the little boy spooking around the large house on TV.
“Almost. Your dad is a bad packer, I had to redo his entire suitcase.” Andy chuckled. It was her parents’ very first trip outside the continent and both of them were nervous.
“You guys are going to love Paris, I promise.” She smiled into the phone, picturing her mother’s excited face.
“Yes, I know, Sweetie.” Mrs. Sachs paused for a while before she continued. “So, are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine, mom.” Andy said convincingly. And she was going to be fine. She knew that. She wasn’t a little girl anymore who needed her parents around for everything. She was twenty-six, and spending the Holidays on your own was part of being an adult. “I’ll be with Doug on Christmas Day.”
“I’m sorry we can’t be there for your big day tomorrow,” her mom said apologetically. “We know it means a lot to you.”
“That’s alright, mom. The way it goes now, there will be more concerts in the future.” The thought of working on more songs with Miranda put a dreamy smile on Andy’s face.
“You sound different, Sweetie.” Her mom said suddenly.
“What? How do you mean, mom? I don’t have a cold or anything. Thank god, might I add, I have to sing tomorrow!” Andy giggled.
“No I meant... you sound... Andy, have you met a boy?” Mrs. Sachs probed.
The journalist’s giggle got stuck in her throat. “Uhm... no mom. I have not met a boy.” She rolled her eyes, feeling a bit disappointed that despite not seeing her mother for Christmas, she’d still receive this year’s ‘have you met a man yet, Andy?’-speech.
“A... a girl then?” Her mother’s voice was so soft that Andy nearly didn’t hear it and it took a while for the words to sink in.
“Wh-what? Uhm... mom, why would you even ask that?” she stammered.
There was a moment of silence and Andy wondered whether her mother had actually hung up.
“Mom?”
“Oh Sweetie, I just wanted you to know that your dad and I would be... okay with... you know... in case.” Mrs. Sachs’ voice was careful but warm and Andy exhaled in relief. “And you do sound kind of... happy... or... excited. I’m sorry, Sweetie, maybe it’s just your big concert tomorrow.”
“Mom, it’s alright...” Andy hesitated and wondered if she should tell her parents about her crush on the incredibly beautiful but unreachable conductor, but then decided against it. What would be the point?
“Thanks, mom. I will tell you guys when I think I’ve met... someone, okay?”
“Alright, Sweetie. That means a lot.”
The doorbell rang and Andy had to double-check that it wasn’t on TV. Who would come by this late on a Sunday?
“Hold on, mom. There’s someone at the door.” She untangled herself from the blanket and padded into the hallway with the phone in her hand.
She called out. “Who is it?”
There was no reply and Andy tiptoed the last bit toward the door. She spied through the small hole and her heart rate increased drastically.
”Shit!” She hissed in a whisper as she looked down at her attire. ”Shit, shit, shit...”
The bell rang again and Andy took a deep breath to calm her nerves. What was the worst that could happen? She reached for the doorknob and turned it to slowly open the door.
“Miranda. What are you doing here?” She said in as steady a voice as she could muster.
The conductor froze at the sight of her, and Andy was suddenly horribly aware of how skimpy her pants were and that her damp hair was curling slightly and probably made her look like a wet poodle.
Miranda opened her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out and she just slowly looked her up and down, the gaze leaving hot trails on Andy’s body.
“Please. Come inside,” the brunette offered with a tilt of her head and led the older woman into the hallway and then closed the door behind them.
“I’ll be right with you, Miranda. Please excuse me,” she said while holding up the phone and then turned away.
“Mom? Yes... it’s just our choral director... yes, I will. Okay... you and dad have fun! I will speak to you when you get back. Yes, I promise. Love you too. Bye.” She hung up and faced the older woman.
“Sorry about that, Miranda. My parents are flying out to Paris tomorrow morning and I wanted to say goodbye,” she rambled as her fingers nervously played with the phone.
“So, what can I do for you?” She sent a shy smile at the silver-haired woman who had still not spoken and looked rather lost standing in Andy’s tiny hallway with her thick, black fur coat and four inch heels. At least she can’t be cold now, Andy thought.
“You weren’t at rehearsal this afternoon.”
Miranda’s voice was low and accusative and Andy heard a tiny tremor through it.
“Yes, I had to work so that I could be at the concert tomorrow. I’m sorry, I thought Doug would have told you.”
Dark blue eyes narrowed at her and the conductor pursed her lips.
“Well. Douglas did no such thing.”
Andy’s heart leaped in her chest. What was this about? Did Miranda come here to tell her off about missing rehearsal?
The older woman was fidgeting with her purse, eyes cast to the floor. In the halogen-lit hallway some of the worry lines around her eyes were a bit more prominent, but the journalist still thought that Miranda was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
“The next time you feel like skipping rehearsal, I would appreciate it if you let me know,” Miranda said icily, but Andy heard the soft thread of insecurity running through it.
She stepped closer to the conductor, who was clearly upset about something, but tried to hide it behind her steely facade.
“I should go.” Miranda turned around and her hand flew to the doorknob.
“Wait!” Andy squeaked and flinched at her own sound. “Wait. Please.”
She padded closer on her socks, until she stood right behind the conductor, inhaling her familiar scent and revelling in the sensations her body was experiencing at the close proximity to the older woman.
“Miranda, why did you come here?” she tried, keeping her voice calm and warm.
For a while the conductor just stood there, hand still on the door, seemingly fighting an internal battle about whether she should stay or go. Then, after what seemed like minutes, she softly spoke.
“Emily said you might have bailed. ‘Chickened out of your performance tomorrow’, as she put it.” Miranda paused and it gave Andy a moment to process the information. So Emily had tried to sabotage her by telling Miranda she had run off and quit the choir? How dare she? And the older woman had come here to directly confront Andy.
The thought that the conductor cared enough to find out where Andy lived and to talk to her in person warmed the brunette’s heart and she reached out for Miranda’s arm.
“I’ll be there tomorrow. I promise, Miranda.” She squeezed softly and felt the older woman stiffen under her touch. “I’m sorry that I did not let you know in person about my having to work. It was a last minute thing.” Drawing up some of the courage being in her own home provided, she gently rubbed Miranda’s arm through the thick coat. “I will let you know, next time.”
The conductor slowly nodded her head, a stray silver strand escaping from behind her ear and falling against her forehead, where it teased Andy, silently calling out to be brushed away.
Miranda pulled at the door and was about to step through it when she halted.
“Oh,” she reached into her purse and pulled out the scarf. “I haven’t had a chance to get it cleaned.” She handed it to Andy without looking up and the brunette took the wool between her clammy hands, fondly thinking back at their intense moment the previous Friday.
“Thank you,” Miranda whispered, barely audible, and then stepped into the outer hallway and swiftly stalked away on her heels without turning around.
Holy crap! Andy thought as she leaned against the closed door and slid down to the floor. That woman was driving her crazy. Wrapping the thick scarf around her neck she nuzzled the wool and deeply inhaled Miranda’s lingering perfume. Andy couldn’t help the large smile from spreading across her lips.
She was so completely screwed. She was so completely in love.
-----
The church was fully packed and the loud chatter of the waiting audience travelled through the door into the small side room where the anxious choir members waited to be called out. The men were wearing black pants and red, long-sleeved shirts with black ties and the women wore matching long, red dresses. Everyone was nervous and dealt with it in their own, unique way.
Lily was dancing around, Nate was cracking lame jokes and Doug was constantly pulling at the collar of his shirt as he stood talking shyly with Nigel. The rest of the singers were an excited buzz, avidly speaking amongst each other and creating a cloud of high-strung energy in the cramped room.
Miranda was standing against the back wall in her simple, but elegant black dress, staring into space and Andy worried about the conductor. She hadn’t spoken to or even looked at Andy all day and seemed withdrawn and distant. It wasn’t nerves, Andy was certain of that, because she knew that this Christmas Eve was the five-year mark of the accident. It was bound to have an effect on the older woman.
The crowd outside calmed down and the local pastor began to introduce the singers.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a warm round of applause to the St. Matthews Community Sports and Art Centre Choir.”
“Boy, we really need to find a proper name,” Doug whispered to Andy as they lined up at the door. The brunette giggled nervously and nodded at her friend as the sound of clapping hands lured them outside.
The door was opened and the choir walked in neat lines onto the makeshift stage and took their position, with Miranda stepping in front of them and raising her hands. When the audience quieted down again, the conductor pulled down her fingers and the choir started to calmly sing the first notes of Rachmaninov’s “Hail Mary”.
The acoustics of the church were beautiful and Andy was immediately enveloped by the sound and all remaining nerves fell away. She focused on Miranda’s flowing movements and let the music come directly from her heart and mingle so perfectly with the voices around her. It lulled her into a soft, warm cloud, the vibrations of their voices seeping into her body and carrying her higher.
Once they had approached the powerful crescendo and their harmonies so beautifully travelled into every last corner of the old church, Andy saw the emotion on the faces of the audience and knew that this particular song was a perfect opener. Miranda gently guided them lower, until the song ended in the quietest of all notes, echoing warmly in the otherwise completely silent building.
When they were done, a first few hesitant claps led into a thorough applause and Andy and her fellow choir mates beamed at the effect their music seemed to have on people. She looked through the rows of impressed faces and her eyes landed on the grumpy features of Irv Ravitz, who sat next to the middle aisle with his arms crossed and his lips pulled down in a dissatisfied sneer. Perfect, Andy thought. They would just have to show Irv that they could not be sabotaged away so easily.
The conductor raised her hands again, calling for the attention of her singers, and they began their next piece in confidence.
Encouraged by the great audience and the awe-inspiring setting of the Gothic church building, the choir sang their next few songs beautifully, even better than at any of their rehearsals. Andy realised that this was what she loved, sharing the beauty of music with others. It made her feel warm and happy, and she kept her eyes on Miranda, who despite appearing reserved and nothing but professional, had a glimmer in her eyes.
Andy knew that somewhere inside the older woman, below the layers of ice walls and deep sorrow, slumbered an incredible passion and love, and the more glimpses Andy got of the woman behind the mask, the more she felt pulled in.
It was their second to last song, Doug’s solo, and her friend stepped forward and gave the audience his charming smile as Nigel began to play the piano intro.
”Amid the roses Mary sits, and rocks her Jesus child...” Doug’s incredible tenor voice began as the rest of the choir sang the wordless background harmonies.
”While amid the tree tops, sighs a breeze so warm and mild...” he continued, and Miranda looked pleased as she moved her hands delicately through the air to guide his tempo.
”... And soft and swee-eetly, sings a bird upon the bow... Ahhhhhhh baby, dea-ear one,” his voice was wonderfully clear at the high notes and the choir’s harmonies pressed it deeply into people’s hearts.
”Slu-umber now...” Doug’s warm vibrato echoed through the high, vaulted ceiling as the choir took their turn to repeat his words.
-----
Miranda stood in front of the choir in her typically reserved version of awe. They had completely exceeded her expectations and given shape to each and every song so amazingly, that she had nearly forgotten the significance of the date. Parts of her long dormant passion for music lurked from the forgotten corners of her heart, and for a brief moment she felt like five years ago, when she had been so fulfilled by her work.
Douglas’ solo performance had been breathtaking and the audience went wild with applause. Miranda felt pride surging up and she tried hard to suppress the tiny smile gracing her lips. If the audience loved “The Virgin’s Slumber Song” performed by the talented tenor, they would surely pass out from the next, and last piece. It was a typical favourite and if sung correctly, one of the most powerful Christmas carols, and the perfect song to end a concert with.
Miranda watched with slight anticipation as Andrea stepped to the front, the red dress clinging to her soft curves so sensually, her eyes radiant with passion and her beautiful smile lighting up the entire church. Her gaze met Miranda’s and the conductor gave a quick nod before signaling for Nigel to begin playing.
After a short piano intro, Andrea began to softly sing.
”O, holy night... the stars are brightly shining, it is the night, of the dear savior’s birth.”
The brunette’s voice was strong but sweet, and she was obviously confident with the lower notes, giving them volume and depth.
”Long lay the world in sin and error pining. Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.”
Miranda was completely captured by Andrea’s sweet voice and the words sunk in with full force. She was not a religious woman, having questioned the existence of god from a very early age on, but that did not stop her from understanding the hope and longing for salvation in most of the Christmas lyrics.
”A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”
The new beginning Miranda had been trying to find was standing right in front of her, staring straight into her eyes, and singing with so much feeling that it nearly broke her heart.
”Fall on your knees! Oh hear the angel voices!”
Angel voice, indeed... the conductor thought as she guided the rest of the choir to their cue, in a near daze.
”Oh night... divine, oh night... when Christ was born... Oh night.... divine... “ Miranda’s heart clenched at the perfect pitch of the high note and the beauty of his young woman singing, seemingly just for her.
”Oh night... oh night divine...”
As Andrea went on singing, the rest of the choir backing her with harmonies that enhanced the desperation of the melody, Miranda could only focus on the brunette, and the music that bound the two of them together, like an invisible bridge that arched across the vast river of Miranda’s sorrow, straight into her heart.
Her eyes began to burn but she could no longer muster her defenses to try and prevent the tears from building. She knew she should not let herself drown in adoration for this young woman, on the eve of Christmas, of all days, and guilt painfully shot through her, distorting the blissful state she was in.
Andrea and the choir ended the song in a spectacular dance of their voices and as soon as the final piano note had sounded the crowd jumped to their feet and produced a storm of applause, welling up behind Miranda like a tempestuous ocean, threatening to swallow her whole. The only thing that kept her grounded were the bright smiles on the faces of her singers. The young men and women grabbed each others’ hands and bowed down in front of the cheering audience.
The conductor took a deep breath and turned around for a small bow of her own.
She felt so torn between pride, achievement, re-surging sorrow and intense guilt, old and new. Watching the excited masses before her, true appreciation colouring their features, she all of a sudden felt too exposed and her chest felt tight, making it difficult to breathe.
With one final bow and a halfhearted clap for her singers, she turned and left the podium. Her high heels carried her swiftly across the stone tiles and she ran.
-----
Andy’s heart nearly leaped from her chest as she watched Miranda run off. Most people did not seem to notice, the singers were completely wrapped up in their success as they excitedly made their way back into the side room to change. Nigel, however looked concerned and kept glancing into the direction the conductor had stormed off into.
With hands clammy from worry and the sudden shift of emotions from happy to stricken, Andy hesitantly walked away from her friends and down the back aisle to where she suspected Miranda to have disappeared to. The old church building was large enough to get lost in and the long south transept was dark with the exception of a few prayer candles.
She kept walking further into the semi darkness, and a faint sniffling sound guided her toward the large, oak confessional in the corner. One of the curtains wasn’t closed properly and through the thin slid in the bottom Andy could make out Miranda’s pantyhose-clad legs. Oh my god, went through the brunette’s head. Miranda is crying!
The logic-loving and analytical half of her brain screamed at her to stay far away, and that the last thing the older woman would want was a nosy, young journalist probing around her personal tragedies. However, the other half of her grey mass, the part that loved music, the one that held all the precious memories of her life, including the most recent one of watching the conductor blush so sweetly when Andy had tied that scarf around her, that part of her brain caused an ache to reach out and comfort Miranda.
Ignoring logic and reason, Andy stepped forward and before she knew it she had settled into the pastor’s side of the booth and had drawn the curtain closed.
Miranda stilled and spoke with a nasal undertone, so weak from crying that Andy’s heart burned with compassion, “Father, I’m not here to confess.”
Suddenly the rational part of Andy’s brain kicked in and caused a wave of panic to rise up inside of her. She could not possibly be sitting here, intruding on such a private moment, and in such a sacrilegious way. She was about to make a run for it, when Miranda’s voice rang out again, sounding so defeated and small.
“Please. Leave me alone.”
Andy knew then, that she could not leave Miranda. That, no matter the consequences, she would remain here, and try everything in her power to be there for the older woman.
“Miranda. It’s me. Andy.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Andy squinted through the small holes in the screen that separated them, to make sure that the conductor was still there. In the dim light she could see the contours of Miranda’s silver head resting in her palms on her lap. The image of the beautiful, strong woman, so broken and devastated, lured tears from Andy’s own eyes.
“Andrea. Please go,” the conductor pleaded quietly.
“I c-can’t...” she watched Miranda raise her head and peer in her direction. “I can’t leave you alone like this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea.” Some of the steeliness had returned to the older woman’s voice.
The brunette didn’t reply and just remained still on the uncomfortable, wooden stool, and after a while Miranda gave an audible sigh and shuffled in her part of the booth, sitting up a bit straighter.
“You know about my past.”
It was not a question, more of a statement, one with a slightly accusative ring to it.
Andy nodded shyly but then realized that Miranda probably could not see her so she cleared the lump from her throat and spoke softly, “Yes... well... I came across an article at the newspaper where I work...”
More silence. And then Miranda gave a soft sniff.
“So you know the official story. The tragedy of my good-for-nothing ex-husband and his love for cheap alcohol...”
The conductor paused again and Andy could see the glistening of fresh tears on the older woman’s barely-lit cheeks.
“What you don’t know is... why on earth I would even agree...” she sniffled and the sound of palms wiping across a wet face travelled through the confined space. “... agree to let my girls ride in a car with him in the first place. When I knew it wasn’t safe...”
“You see, Andrea,” she gave what sounded like a mixture between a sob and a laugh, “I’m a selfish bitch, who lost sight of my duty to protect my children,... so I could indulge in meaningless, physical... pleasures.” She said the last word with contempt and a fresh wave of sobs shook her body.
“While my two babies were...“ she hiccuped “... fighting for their lives...” Andy’s own cheeks were completely wet with tears now. “... I was in bed with another woman... clinging to a pathetic illusion of intimacy.”
Andy’s heart broke into a thousand pieces when she realized that Miranda blamed nobody but herself for what happened to her children. The brunette reached toward the screen and placed her palm against it, in an attempt to be closer to the other woman.
“And none of it meant anything...” Miranda whispered. “She fled from my house the minute the police officers came to the door...” Andy had to clamp a hand to her mouth in order to stifle a shocked sob. “I haven’t heard from her... or seen her since.”
So Miranda had been left all alone to deal with the devastating news.
“Oh god. Miranda...” the brunette whispered with a voice thick of compassion and affection.
“I don’t need your pity, Andrea,” the older woman spat as well as she could in her current state, before succumbing to another wave of sobs.
Andy could not stop herself as she slipped from her side of the booth, making sure that nobody was around, and then gently drew aside the curtain that hid the older woman.
With all the sincerity of her heart, she looked at Miranda and willed her to turn around.
“I’m not here to offer pity, Miranda.”
Her determined voice had the required effect and the older woman moved her head and slowly raised her shiny, red-rimmed eyes to look at the brunette with an open, unguarded gaze, full of surprise and expectation.
Not trusting her voice any longer at the sight of Miranda, so raw and vulnerable, Andy slowly sunk to her knees in front of the older woman and leaned forward to tenderly wrap her arms around the slim waist, burying her face against the side of Miranda’s stomach.
She felt the older woman stiffen, but Andy remained where she was and squeezed her tightly.
Very slowly Miranda placed one trembling hand on the brunette’s head and the other on her shoulder and pulled her closer.
They remained this way for a while until both their sobs had subsided and their breathing had slowed. The conductor was drawing small circles on the younger woman’s upper back and began playing with her hair when Andy turned her head so that it was lying on Miranda’s lap.
“Get up,” the older woman ordered softly, with kindness shining from her puffy eyes, and Andy complied, sheepishly straightening inside the low booth.
Miranda turned her around and pulled her down on her lap, so Andy’s back could rest against the side wall and her legs were facing the curtain, which was then quietly pulled closed by the older woman.
Overcome with tenderness, Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda’s shoulders and hugged her sweetly and when the conductor hugged her back the broken pieces of Andy’s heart quickly began to mend. She realized that she could be there for Miranda and the older woman was letting her in.
They didn’t speak, and just sat quietly in their embrace, hands softly caressing their backs through the thin fabrics of their dresses.
After a few minutes the brunette pulled away and gazed into the older woman’s eyes with all the emotions that flowed inside her. Deep blue shone back at her with a new depth and Andy was so overwhelmed with affection that she hesitantly leaned down, and ever so slowly pressed her lips against Miranda’s.
At first, the thin lips below hers remained still, and the brunette kept lightly but insistantly brushing against them. Then finally Miranda began kissing back, and the sweet softness of her lips trapped Andy in a state of complete wonder. Their kiss was slow and tender, a fragile moment neither of them wanted to rush. Miranda moved her hands up to Andy’s head and slowly stroked through the long locks and the younger woman let her fingertips gently dance across the back of Miranda’s neck.
The universe around Andy completely disappeared. She had never imagined that a kiss could be so life-altering. From now on the world was no longer the same and every single thing would need to be rediscovered, with new eyes. Miranda’s lips were suddenly the centre of Andy’s very existence, and they had stripped her off all reality and were now slowly beginning to build her back up.
The scent of Miranda’s perfume, and the salt of their mingled tears flooded Andy’s senses and she realized she wanted all of this and so much more. A sharp flash shot through her body to her very core and the sudden, boiling desire forced her to pull away. She found herself panting slightly and gazed at the equally breathless older woman through lowered eyelids.
“Andrea...” Miranda whispered.
“Miranda...” the brunette replied with a sheepish smile.
The older woman showed a timid tug on her own lips and reached up to brush a lock of hair from Andy’s face.
“If you don’t have any plans tomorrow, would you like to have Christmas dinner with me and my family?” she asked in a shy manner that looked alien on the normally determined and self-assured features of Miranda Priestly.
Andy raised her hand and tenderly tucked a silver lock behind the conductor’s ear.
“Yes. I would like that.”
Both their smiles widened and Andy leaned in to kiss Miranda’s smooth forehead.
Suddenly a pair of hesitant footsteps alerted them that they were no longer alone.
“Miranda? Little Sparrow?”
With a final caressing finger to the older woman’s cheek, Andy stood and stepped through the curtain.
“Hey Nigel. We’re here... and we’re okay.” She reassured him with a sincere smile, and after he had looked behind her and spotted the emerging conductor, he nodded his head and motioned toward Doug who was standing a few feet away, looking worried.
“The choir is going out for drinks, would you like to join us?” The pianist gazed thoughtfully from Andy to Miranda as the two women exchanged a look and then nodded.
“Yes, sure, Nigel. Sounds like fun,” the brunette spoke. “Give us a minute to straighten up, okay?”
The bald man raised his eyebrows but gave a gentle smile.
“Okay, see you out front,” he said as he walked back to Doug, and the two disappeared around the corner to the now empty main area of the building.
Andy turned toward Miranda. “Come on, let’s get to our purses. I have some wet wipes to get rid of the pretty mascara stains.”
The older woman gazed at her silently before stepping closer and pulling Andy in for another embrace, their bodies pressing against each other along their entire lengths. The sensation made the brunette’s nerve endings buzz with warmth but she knew that now was not the time to give in to her desires, so she pulled away and let Miranda kiss her sweetly but briefly on the lips.
“Thank you,” the conductor whispered softly. Her eyes still held some sadness, but now they also showed a new glimmer of life.
Andy was sure that Miranda still needed time to deal with her guilt before anything further could happen between them, but at least now she had somebody she could talk to and trust, and she had opened up and was about to let Andy into her life.
As they walked through the now empty church into the small side room to fix their makeup, Andy understood that beginning a relationship... or whatever this was... with Miranda would probably not be free of complications. However, watching the older woman elegantly reapply her lipstick and knowing that she had just been invited to meet her family for Christmas, filled her with so much warmth that she refused to feel nervous or overwhelmed.
Miranda had just shared one of the most important details of herself and her past, and now she wanted to share part of her present, so Andy felt honored.
Putting the cap on the exquisite shade of red, Miranda gazed at the younger woman warmly. “Ready?”
Andy took a deep breath and smiled back.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
-----
To be continued....
Rating: PG13
Warning: Established character death. T__T
Pairing: Andy/Miranda
Length: 5400 words (this chapter)
Prompt: based on a prompt by amles80
Summary: A/U - Miranda is a choral director and Andy is a journalist who enjoys singing. Miranda has a painful past and Andy has to learn to believe in herself. Miranda is 47, Andy is 26 in this story.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Devil Wears Prada.
Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
A/N: Hmmm okay, I think maybe the whole singing part is getting a bit cheesy and very cliche and, I blame it on my love for music and watching too much GLEE. ^_^ However I hope you bare with me, because Miranda will deal with her biggest issue and the music, as gloriously overdone as it may seem, will help her with it. ^_^
Bonus: So I felt the Christmas spirit today and just had to “draw” a little chibi version of Miranda with Andy’s scarf. It was done in MS Paint, so it’s nothing great but it kind of expresses how I want to just squish Miranda sometimes... ^_^
Chapter 5
It was Sunday night and Andy had worked most of the weekend in order to get Christmas off. It would be her first Holidays on her own, her parents having finally booked that trip to Europe they had been dreaming about forever, and Andy did not want to spend most of the time in the office on top of everything else. She was a Christmas person, and at least Doug had invited her over to his folks so she’d still be around people she loved.
Drying her freshly showered hair she padded into the living room and turned on the TV where a tiny Macaulay Culkin was climbing up a bookshelf to steal his brother’s money. Home Alone. How fitting, she thought while sitting on the couch to pull up her striped Christmas stockings in all their cheesy red and white glory. She wriggled her toes and knew she must be looking ridiculous in her red pyjama shorts and her large, white Rudolph hoodie.
But it was nearly Christmas and she was alone, so she could run around her tiny, but warm apartment however she liked. She settled into the soft pillows and pulled up a blanket. Andy was kind of disappointed that she had missed choir practice on the last day before their first concert, but the price for being a budding journalist was that she had to work strange hours. At least it meant she’d have Monday off as well.
The phone rang and she blindly reached for it on the side table behind her.
“Hello?”
“Hi Sweetie!” Her mother’s warm voice greeted her cheerily.
“Hi mom, all packed yet?” She snuggled back under the blanket and kept her eyes on the little boy spooking around the large house on TV.
“Almost. Your dad is a bad packer, I had to redo his entire suitcase.” Andy chuckled. It was her parents’ very first trip outside the continent and both of them were nervous.
“You guys are going to love Paris, I promise.” She smiled into the phone, picturing her mother’s excited face.
“Yes, I know, Sweetie.” Mrs. Sachs paused for a while before she continued. “So, are you going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine, mom.” Andy said convincingly. And she was going to be fine. She knew that. She wasn’t a little girl anymore who needed her parents around for everything. She was twenty-six, and spending the Holidays on your own was part of being an adult. “I’ll be with Doug on Christmas Day.”
“I’m sorry we can’t be there for your big day tomorrow,” her mom said apologetically. “We know it means a lot to you.”
“That’s alright, mom. The way it goes now, there will be more concerts in the future.” The thought of working on more songs with Miranda put a dreamy smile on Andy’s face.
“You sound different, Sweetie.” Her mom said suddenly.
“What? How do you mean, mom? I don’t have a cold or anything. Thank god, might I add, I have to sing tomorrow!” Andy giggled.
“No I meant... you sound... Andy, have you met a boy?” Mrs. Sachs probed.
The journalist’s giggle got stuck in her throat. “Uhm... no mom. I have not met a boy.” She rolled her eyes, feeling a bit disappointed that despite not seeing her mother for Christmas, she’d still receive this year’s ‘have you met a man yet, Andy?’-speech.
“A... a girl then?” Her mother’s voice was so soft that Andy nearly didn’t hear it and it took a while for the words to sink in.
“Wh-what? Uhm... mom, why would you even ask that?” she stammered.
There was a moment of silence and Andy wondered whether her mother had actually hung up.
“Mom?”
“Oh Sweetie, I just wanted you to know that your dad and I would be... okay with... you know... in case.” Mrs. Sachs’ voice was careful but warm and Andy exhaled in relief. “And you do sound kind of... happy... or... excited. I’m sorry, Sweetie, maybe it’s just your big concert tomorrow.”
“Mom, it’s alright...” Andy hesitated and wondered if she should tell her parents about her crush on the incredibly beautiful but unreachable conductor, but then decided against it. What would be the point?
“Thanks, mom. I will tell you guys when I think I’ve met... someone, okay?”
“Alright, Sweetie. That means a lot.”
The doorbell rang and Andy had to double-check that it wasn’t on TV. Who would come by this late on a Sunday?
“Hold on, mom. There’s someone at the door.” She untangled herself from the blanket and padded into the hallway with the phone in her hand.
She called out. “Who is it?”
There was no reply and Andy tiptoed the last bit toward the door. She spied through the small hole and her heart rate increased drastically.
”Shit!” She hissed in a whisper as she looked down at her attire. ”Shit, shit, shit...”
The bell rang again and Andy took a deep breath to calm her nerves. What was the worst that could happen? She reached for the doorknob and turned it to slowly open the door.
“Miranda. What are you doing here?” She said in as steady a voice as she could muster.
The conductor froze at the sight of her, and Andy was suddenly horribly aware of how skimpy her pants were and that her damp hair was curling slightly and probably made her look like a wet poodle.
Miranda opened her mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out and she just slowly looked her up and down, the gaze leaving hot trails on Andy’s body.
“Please. Come inside,” the brunette offered with a tilt of her head and led the older woman into the hallway and then closed the door behind them.
“I’ll be right with you, Miranda. Please excuse me,” she said while holding up the phone and then turned away.
“Mom? Yes... it’s just our choral director... yes, I will. Okay... you and dad have fun! I will speak to you when you get back. Yes, I promise. Love you too. Bye.” She hung up and faced the older woman.
“Sorry about that, Miranda. My parents are flying out to Paris tomorrow morning and I wanted to say goodbye,” she rambled as her fingers nervously played with the phone.
“So, what can I do for you?” She sent a shy smile at the silver-haired woman who had still not spoken and looked rather lost standing in Andy’s tiny hallway with her thick, black fur coat and four inch heels. At least she can’t be cold now, Andy thought.
“You weren’t at rehearsal this afternoon.”
Miranda’s voice was low and accusative and Andy heard a tiny tremor through it.
“Yes, I had to work so that I could be at the concert tomorrow. I’m sorry, I thought Doug would have told you.”
Dark blue eyes narrowed at her and the conductor pursed her lips.
“Well. Douglas did no such thing.”
Andy’s heart leaped in her chest. What was this about? Did Miranda come here to tell her off about missing rehearsal?
The older woman was fidgeting with her purse, eyes cast to the floor. In the halogen-lit hallway some of the worry lines around her eyes were a bit more prominent, but the journalist still thought that Miranda was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
“The next time you feel like skipping rehearsal, I would appreciate it if you let me know,” Miranda said icily, but Andy heard the soft thread of insecurity running through it.
She stepped closer to the conductor, who was clearly upset about something, but tried to hide it behind her steely facade.
“I should go.” Miranda turned around and her hand flew to the doorknob.
“Wait!” Andy squeaked and flinched at her own sound. “Wait. Please.”
She padded closer on her socks, until she stood right behind the conductor, inhaling her familiar scent and revelling in the sensations her body was experiencing at the close proximity to the older woman.
“Miranda, why did you come here?” she tried, keeping her voice calm and warm.
For a while the conductor just stood there, hand still on the door, seemingly fighting an internal battle about whether she should stay or go. Then, after what seemed like minutes, she softly spoke.
“Emily said you might have bailed. ‘Chickened out of your performance tomorrow’, as she put it.” Miranda paused and it gave Andy a moment to process the information. So Emily had tried to sabotage her by telling Miranda she had run off and quit the choir? How dare she? And the older woman had come here to directly confront Andy.
The thought that the conductor cared enough to find out where Andy lived and to talk to her in person warmed the brunette’s heart and she reached out for Miranda’s arm.
“I’ll be there tomorrow. I promise, Miranda.” She squeezed softly and felt the older woman stiffen under her touch. “I’m sorry that I did not let you know in person about my having to work. It was a last minute thing.” Drawing up some of the courage being in her own home provided, she gently rubbed Miranda’s arm through the thick coat. “I will let you know, next time.”
The conductor slowly nodded her head, a stray silver strand escaping from behind her ear and falling against her forehead, where it teased Andy, silently calling out to be brushed away.
Miranda pulled at the door and was about to step through it when she halted.
“Oh,” she reached into her purse and pulled out the scarf. “I haven’t had a chance to get it cleaned.” She handed it to Andy without looking up and the brunette took the wool between her clammy hands, fondly thinking back at their intense moment the previous Friday.
“Thank you,” Miranda whispered, barely audible, and then stepped into the outer hallway and swiftly stalked away on her heels without turning around.
Holy crap! Andy thought as she leaned against the closed door and slid down to the floor. That woman was driving her crazy. Wrapping the thick scarf around her neck she nuzzled the wool and deeply inhaled Miranda’s lingering perfume. Andy couldn’t help the large smile from spreading across her lips.
She was so completely screwed. She was so completely in love.
-----
The church was fully packed and the loud chatter of the waiting audience travelled through the door into the small side room where the anxious choir members waited to be called out. The men were wearing black pants and red, long-sleeved shirts with black ties and the women wore matching long, red dresses. Everyone was nervous and dealt with it in their own, unique way.
Lily was dancing around, Nate was cracking lame jokes and Doug was constantly pulling at the collar of his shirt as he stood talking shyly with Nigel. The rest of the singers were an excited buzz, avidly speaking amongst each other and creating a cloud of high-strung energy in the cramped room.
Miranda was standing against the back wall in her simple, but elegant black dress, staring into space and Andy worried about the conductor. She hadn’t spoken to or even looked at Andy all day and seemed withdrawn and distant. It wasn’t nerves, Andy was certain of that, because she knew that this Christmas Eve was the five-year mark of the accident. It was bound to have an effect on the older woman.
The crowd outside calmed down and the local pastor began to introduce the singers.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a warm round of applause to the St. Matthews Community Sports and Art Centre Choir.”
“Boy, we really need to find a proper name,” Doug whispered to Andy as they lined up at the door. The brunette giggled nervously and nodded at her friend as the sound of clapping hands lured them outside.
The door was opened and the choir walked in neat lines onto the makeshift stage and took their position, with Miranda stepping in front of them and raising her hands. When the audience quieted down again, the conductor pulled down her fingers and the choir started to calmly sing the first notes of Rachmaninov’s “Hail Mary”.
The acoustics of the church were beautiful and Andy was immediately enveloped by the sound and all remaining nerves fell away. She focused on Miranda’s flowing movements and let the music come directly from her heart and mingle so perfectly with the voices around her. It lulled her into a soft, warm cloud, the vibrations of their voices seeping into her body and carrying her higher.
Once they had approached the powerful crescendo and their harmonies so beautifully travelled into every last corner of the old church, Andy saw the emotion on the faces of the audience and knew that this particular song was a perfect opener. Miranda gently guided them lower, until the song ended in the quietest of all notes, echoing warmly in the otherwise completely silent building.
When they were done, a first few hesitant claps led into a thorough applause and Andy and her fellow choir mates beamed at the effect their music seemed to have on people. She looked through the rows of impressed faces and her eyes landed on the grumpy features of Irv Ravitz, who sat next to the middle aisle with his arms crossed and his lips pulled down in a dissatisfied sneer. Perfect, Andy thought. They would just have to show Irv that they could not be sabotaged away so easily.
The conductor raised her hands again, calling for the attention of her singers, and they began their next piece in confidence.
Encouraged by the great audience and the awe-inspiring setting of the Gothic church building, the choir sang their next few songs beautifully, even better than at any of their rehearsals. Andy realised that this was what she loved, sharing the beauty of music with others. It made her feel warm and happy, and she kept her eyes on Miranda, who despite appearing reserved and nothing but professional, had a glimmer in her eyes.
Andy knew that somewhere inside the older woman, below the layers of ice walls and deep sorrow, slumbered an incredible passion and love, and the more glimpses Andy got of the woman behind the mask, the more she felt pulled in.
It was their second to last song, Doug’s solo, and her friend stepped forward and gave the audience his charming smile as Nigel began to play the piano intro.
”Amid the roses Mary sits, and rocks her Jesus child...” Doug’s incredible tenor voice began as the rest of the choir sang the wordless background harmonies.
”While amid the tree tops, sighs a breeze so warm and mild...” he continued, and Miranda looked pleased as she moved her hands delicately through the air to guide his tempo.
”... And soft and swee-eetly, sings a bird upon the bow... Ahhhhhhh baby, dea-ear one,” his voice was wonderfully clear at the high notes and the choir’s harmonies pressed it deeply into people’s hearts.
”Slu-umber now...” Doug’s warm vibrato echoed through the high, vaulted ceiling as the choir took their turn to repeat his words.
-----
Miranda stood in front of the choir in her typically reserved version of awe. They had completely exceeded her expectations and given shape to each and every song so amazingly, that she had nearly forgotten the significance of the date. Parts of her long dormant passion for music lurked from the forgotten corners of her heart, and for a brief moment she felt like five years ago, when she had been so fulfilled by her work.
Douglas’ solo performance had been breathtaking and the audience went wild with applause. Miranda felt pride surging up and she tried hard to suppress the tiny smile gracing her lips. If the audience loved “The Virgin’s Slumber Song” performed by the talented tenor, they would surely pass out from the next, and last piece. It was a typical favourite and if sung correctly, one of the most powerful Christmas carols, and the perfect song to end a concert with.
Miranda watched with slight anticipation as Andrea stepped to the front, the red dress clinging to her soft curves so sensually, her eyes radiant with passion and her beautiful smile lighting up the entire church. Her gaze met Miranda’s and the conductor gave a quick nod before signaling for Nigel to begin playing.
After a short piano intro, Andrea began to softly sing.
”O, holy night... the stars are brightly shining, it is the night, of the dear savior’s birth.”
The brunette’s voice was strong but sweet, and she was obviously confident with the lower notes, giving them volume and depth.
”Long lay the world in sin and error pining. Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.”
Miranda was completely captured by Andrea’s sweet voice and the words sunk in with full force. She was not a religious woman, having questioned the existence of god from a very early age on, but that did not stop her from understanding the hope and longing for salvation in most of the Christmas lyrics.
”A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.”
The new beginning Miranda had been trying to find was standing right in front of her, staring straight into her eyes, and singing with so much feeling that it nearly broke her heart.
”Fall on your knees! Oh hear the angel voices!”
Angel voice, indeed... the conductor thought as she guided the rest of the choir to their cue, in a near daze.
”Oh night... divine, oh night... when Christ was born... Oh night.... divine... “ Miranda’s heart clenched at the perfect pitch of the high note and the beauty of his young woman singing, seemingly just for her.
”Oh night... oh night divine...”
As Andrea went on singing, the rest of the choir backing her with harmonies that enhanced the desperation of the melody, Miranda could only focus on the brunette, and the music that bound the two of them together, like an invisible bridge that arched across the vast river of Miranda’s sorrow, straight into her heart.
Her eyes began to burn but she could no longer muster her defenses to try and prevent the tears from building. She knew she should not let herself drown in adoration for this young woman, on the eve of Christmas, of all days, and guilt painfully shot through her, distorting the blissful state she was in.
Andrea and the choir ended the song in a spectacular dance of their voices and as soon as the final piano note had sounded the crowd jumped to their feet and produced a storm of applause, welling up behind Miranda like a tempestuous ocean, threatening to swallow her whole. The only thing that kept her grounded were the bright smiles on the faces of her singers. The young men and women grabbed each others’ hands and bowed down in front of the cheering audience.
The conductor took a deep breath and turned around for a small bow of her own.
She felt so torn between pride, achievement, re-surging sorrow and intense guilt, old and new. Watching the excited masses before her, true appreciation colouring their features, she all of a sudden felt too exposed and her chest felt tight, making it difficult to breathe.
With one final bow and a halfhearted clap for her singers, she turned and left the podium. Her high heels carried her swiftly across the stone tiles and she ran.
-----
Andy’s heart nearly leaped from her chest as she watched Miranda run off. Most people did not seem to notice, the singers were completely wrapped up in their success as they excitedly made their way back into the side room to change. Nigel, however looked concerned and kept glancing into the direction the conductor had stormed off into.
With hands clammy from worry and the sudden shift of emotions from happy to stricken, Andy hesitantly walked away from her friends and down the back aisle to where she suspected Miranda to have disappeared to. The old church building was large enough to get lost in and the long south transept was dark with the exception of a few prayer candles.
She kept walking further into the semi darkness, and a faint sniffling sound guided her toward the large, oak confessional in the corner. One of the curtains wasn’t closed properly and through the thin slid in the bottom Andy could make out Miranda’s pantyhose-clad legs. Oh my god, went through the brunette’s head. Miranda is crying!
The logic-loving and analytical half of her brain screamed at her to stay far away, and that the last thing the older woman would want was a nosy, young journalist probing around her personal tragedies. However, the other half of her grey mass, the part that loved music, the one that held all the precious memories of her life, including the most recent one of watching the conductor blush so sweetly when Andy had tied that scarf around her, that part of her brain caused an ache to reach out and comfort Miranda.
Ignoring logic and reason, Andy stepped forward and before she knew it she had settled into the pastor’s side of the booth and had drawn the curtain closed.
Miranda stilled and spoke with a nasal undertone, so weak from crying that Andy’s heart burned with compassion, “Father, I’m not here to confess.”
Suddenly the rational part of Andy’s brain kicked in and caused a wave of panic to rise up inside of her. She could not possibly be sitting here, intruding on such a private moment, and in such a sacrilegious way. She was about to make a run for it, when Miranda’s voice rang out again, sounding so defeated and small.
“Please. Leave me alone.”
Andy knew then, that she could not leave Miranda. That, no matter the consequences, she would remain here, and try everything in her power to be there for the older woman.
“Miranda. It’s me. Andy.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Andy squinted through the small holes in the screen that separated them, to make sure that the conductor was still there. In the dim light she could see the contours of Miranda’s silver head resting in her palms on her lap. The image of the beautiful, strong woman, so broken and devastated, lured tears from Andy’s own eyes.
“Andrea. Please go,” the conductor pleaded quietly.
“I c-can’t...” she watched Miranda raise her head and peer in her direction. “I can’t leave you alone like this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Andrea.” Some of the steeliness had returned to the older woman’s voice.
The brunette didn’t reply and just remained still on the uncomfortable, wooden stool, and after a while Miranda gave an audible sigh and shuffled in her part of the booth, sitting up a bit straighter.
“You know about my past.”
It was not a question, more of a statement, one with a slightly accusative ring to it.
Andy nodded shyly but then realized that Miranda probably could not see her so she cleared the lump from her throat and spoke softly, “Yes... well... I came across an article at the newspaper where I work...”
More silence. And then Miranda gave a soft sniff.
“So you know the official story. The tragedy of my good-for-nothing ex-husband and his love for cheap alcohol...”
The conductor paused again and Andy could see the glistening of fresh tears on the older woman’s barely-lit cheeks.
“What you don’t know is... why on earth I would even agree...” she sniffled and the sound of palms wiping across a wet face travelled through the confined space. “... agree to let my girls ride in a car with him in the first place. When I knew it wasn’t safe...”
“You see, Andrea,” she gave what sounded like a mixture between a sob and a laugh, “I’m a selfish bitch, who lost sight of my duty to protect my children,... so I could indulge in meaningless, physical... pleasures.” She said the last word with contempt and a fresh wave of sobs shook her body.
“While my two babies were...“ she hiccuped “... fighting for their lives...” Andy’s own cheeks were completely wet with tears now. “... I was in bed with another woman... clinging to a pathetic illusion of intimacy.”
Andy’s heart broke into a thousand pieces when she realized that Miranda blamed nobody but herself for what happened to her children. The brunette reached toward the screen and placed her palm against it, in an attempt to be closer to the other woman.
“And none of it meant anything...” Miranda whispered. “She fled from my house the minute the police officers came to the door...” Andy had to clamp a hand to her mouth in order to stifle a shocked sob. “I haven’t heard from her... or seen her since.”
So Miranda had been left all alone to deal with the devastating news.
“Oh god. Miranda...” the brunette whispered with a voice thick of compassion and affection.
“I don’t need your pity, Andrea,” the older woman spat as well as she could in her current state, before succumbing to another wave of sobs.
Andy could not stop herself as she slipped from her side of the booth, making sure that nobody was around, and then gently drew aside the curtain that hid the older woman.
With all the sincerity of her heart, she looked at Miranda and willed her to turn around.
“I’m not here to offer pity, Miranda.”
Her determined voice had the required effect and the older woman moved her head and slowly raised her shiny, red-rimmed eyes to look at the brunette with an open, unguarded gaze, full of surprise and expectation.
Not trusting her voice any longer at the sight of Miranda, so raw and vulnerable, Andy slowly sunk to her knees in front of the older woman and leaned forward to tenderly wrap her arms around the slim waist, burying her face against the side of Miranda’s stomach.
She felt the older woman stiffen, but Andy remained where she was and squeezed her tightly.
Very slowly Miranda placed one trembling hand on the brunette’s head and the other on her shoulder and pulled her closer.
They remained this way for a while until both their sobs had subsided and their breathing had slowed. The conductor was drawing small circles on the younger woman’s upper back and began playing with her hair when Andy turned her head so that it was lying on Miranda’s lap.
“Get up,” the older woman ordered softly, with kindness shining from her puffy eyes, and Andy complied, sheepishly straightening inside the low booth.
Miranda turned her around and pulled her down on her lap, so Andy’s back could rest against the side wall and her legs were facing the curtain, which was then quietly pulled closed by the older woman.
Overcome with tenderness, Andy wrapped her arms around Miranda’s shoulders and hugged her sweetly and when the conductor hugged her back the broken pieces of Andy’s heart quickly began to mend. She realized that she could be there for Miranda and the older woman was letting her in.
They didn’t speak, and just sat quietly in their embrace, hands softly caressing their backs through the thin fabrics of their dresses.
After a few minutes the brunette pulled away and gazed into the older woman’s eyes with all the emotions that flowed inside her. Deep blue shone back at her with a new depth and Andy was so overwhelmed with affection that she hesitantly leaned down, and ever so slowly pressed her lips against Miranda’s.
At first, the thin lips below hers remained still, and the brunette kept lightly but insistantly brushing against them. Then finally Miranda began kissing back, and the sweet softness of her lips trapped Andy in a state of complete wonder. Their kiss was slow and tender, a fragile moment neither of them wanted to rush. Miranda moved her hands up to Andy’s head and slowly stroked through the long locks and the younger woman let her fingertips gently dance across the back of Miranda’s neck.
The universe around Andy completely disappeared. She had never imagined that a kiss could be so life-altering. From now on the world was no longer the same and every single thing would need to be rediscovered, with new eyes. Miranda’s lips were suddenly the centre of Andy’s very existence, and they had stripped her off all reality and were now slowly beginning to build her back up.
The scent of Miranda’s perfume, and the salt of their mingled tears flooded Andy’s senses and she realized she wanted all of this and so much more. A sharp flash shot through her body to her very core and the sudden, boiling desire forced her to pull away. She found herself panting slightly and gazed at the equally breathless older woman through lowered eyelids.
“Andrea...” Miranda whispered.
“Miranda...” the brunette replied with a sheepish smile.
The older woman showed a timid tug on her own lips and reached up to brush a lock of hair from Andy’s face.
“If you don’t have any plans tomorrow, would you like to have Christmas dinner with me and my family?” she asked in a shy manner that looked alien on the normally determined and self-assured features of Miranda Priestly.
Andy raised her hand and tenderly tucked a silver lock behind the conductor’s ear.
“Yes. I would like that.”
Both their smiles widened and Andy leaned in to kiss Miranda’s smooth forehead.
Suddenly a pair of hesitant footsteps alerted them that they were no longer alone.
“Miranda? Little Sparrow?”
With a final caressing finger to the older woman’s cheek, Andy stood and stepped through the curtain.
“Hey Nigel. We’re here... and we’re okay.” She reassured him with a sincere smile, and after he had looked behind her and spotted the emerging conductor, he nodded his head and motioned toward Doug who was standing a few feet away, looking worried.
“The choir is going out for drinks, would you like to join us?” The pianist gazed thoughtfully from Andy to Miranda as the two women exchanged a look and then nodded.
“Yes, sure, Nigel. Sounds like fun,” the brunette spoke. “Give us a minute to straighten up, okay?”
The bald man raised his eyebrows but gave a gentle smile.
“Okay, see you out front,” he said as he walked back to Doug, and the two disappeared around the corner to the now empty main area of the building.
Andy turned toward Miranda. “Come on, let’s get to our purses. I have some wet wipes to get rid of the pretty mascara stains.”
The older woman gazed at her silently before stepping closer and pulling Andy in for another embrace, their bodies pressing against each other along their entire lengths. The sensation made the brunette’s nerve endings buzz with warmth but she knew that now was not the time to give in to her desires, so she pulled away and let Miranda kiss her sweetly but briefly on the lips.
“Thank you,” the conductor whispered softly. Her eyes still held some sadness, but now they also showed a new glimmer of life.
Andy was sure that Miranda still needed time to deal with her guilt before anything further could happen between them, but at least now she had somebody she could talk to and trust, and she had opened up and was about to let Andy into her life.
As they walked through the now empty church into the small side room to fix their makeup, Andy understood that beginning a relationship... or whatever this was... with Miranda would probably not be free of complications. However, watching the older woman elegantly reapply her lipstick and knowing that she had just been invited to meet her family for Christmas, filled her with so much warmth that she refused to feel nervous or overwhelmed.
Miranda had just shared one of the most important details of herself and her past, and now she wanted to share part of her present, so Andy felt honored.
Putting the cap on the exquisite shade of red, Miranda gazed at the younger woman warmly. “Ready?”
Andy took a deep breath and smiled back.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
-----
To be continued....