Authors: Kate Vale
“I’d like to hear you play.”
“I’m not any good. It’s been so long.”
“Didn’t you ever play just for yourself?” One warm hand slowly massaged her neck.
“Sure. My music was my private friend.” She recalled how often she’d banged out her frustrations when no one was home.
“Elizabeth, my sister, used to say the same thing, that her music reflected her feelings. Maybe if you play, you’ll feel better about things—banish those nightmares,” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “Come on.” He pulled her to her feet and walked to the piano. “I can’t promise it’s in tune. It hasn’t been played in a long time—not since Chrissie was in high school.”
“You said your sister plays. Where does she live now?”
He looked away from her for a moment as he brushed his fingers against the shining wood.
“She was training at Julliard. The day before my dad and I were scheduled to attend her senior recital … She’d run out of food for the two stray cats she’d adopted and went to the bodega near her apartment. The cops said it was an accident, that the shooter was aiming for someone else and she happened to be in the way. We never heard if they caught the guy who did it.” As he talked, his fingers continued along the curve of the piano lid.
“I’m so sorry. Are you sure you want me to use it, your sister’s piano?”
“Please. I’ve missed hearing it. Sit.” He opened the keyboard cover and watched as Suzanna slid her fingers along the keys.
The first notes she played were tentative, as she tried to recall the notes. Then she began a simple melody and another and another, and then “Claire de Lune.”
He pulled up a chair nearby. She lost herself in the music and closed her eyes as her hands moved over the keys, confidently. After several minutes, she stopped, turned and smiled at him. “That was so nice. I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed playing.”
His blue eyes darkened as he squeezed her arm. “Any time you want to play, feel free. I’ll have Nate call a piano tuner. I could tell it needs it.”
She stood up and walked over to him. “I used to play whenever I was upset. It felt good to know I still remembered some pieces. You’re a good friend. May I give you a thank you hug?” She slid her arms around him.
After a long moment, she felt his arms lightly close around her. She’d found a haven of warmth and safety in his strong arms, soothed by the steady beat of his heart as she leaned her head against his chest. “Thank you,” she murmured, reluctant to let him go.
Late into the night, Suzanna and Jonathan
talked, her
head resting on his shoulder
as they sat on the couch. When he was certain she was deeply asleep, he
slid her down on
to the full length of the couch,
tucked the blanket around her
, and kissed her forehead. Her dark hair spilled across the pillow as he reluctantly backed away.
She came to me, a good sign.
I’d rather have you in my bed, sweet Suzanna, but something tells me you’re not quite ready for that.
He took their mugs back to the kitchen and went upstairs to bed, all too aware of the tension in his body when his thoughts circled around Suzanna in his home, playing the piano, silent for so long. He imagined what she might be dreaming, hoping that at least some of those images were of him. With her…together
.
The next morning,
Jonathan was in the kitchen having breakfast
when Suzanna wandered in, in her stocking feet, her hair and clothes mussed from sleep. She looked adorable. He imagined kissing her awake and taking in that sleepy look every morning
.
He willed his body to behave.
“
You must have smelled Nate’s cooking,” he said. “
Come have
breakfast
.
”
Before she could ask, he explained. “
You were exhausted
last night
. I saw no point
making you walk home, even by moonlight—or driving you back in my truck.” His mouth curved up in a wry grin. “Nate,
have you got any eggs and sausage for the lady?”
“Enough for a crew!
How much would you like, Suzanna?”
She ate a hearty breakfast before
heading
back to the cabin
. Sam led the way
.
Later that afternoon,
Nate poked his head into the office when Jonathan put down the phone. “I’m goin’ into town.
You
got anything
you want me to take to the post office?”
“Just this.” He handed Nate a large envelope.
“Could you send this express? These New Yorkers want their report yesterday, but
they
wo
uld
n’t take a fax or email.
And will you call that man who tuned the piano before Chrissie went to college?
”
“Sure thing.” Nate picked up the picture of Sam and Suzanna that had fallen off the desk.
“You’ll want to keep this, I guess. She sure is a nice person, isn’t she?”
Jonathan took the picture from him, and put it inside the center desk drawer.
“Yes, she is.”
He looked out the window, attracted by the activity in the nearest corral before turning his attention to the report on his computer.
“I’m thinkin’ she’d be a nice replacement for Chelsea.”
How does that old man read my mind
?
Jonathan swiveled
abruptly
around to
stare at
Nate
, his pulse picking up speed, trying to sound casual.
“
I suppose you’re going to tell me why you’ve come to that conclusion.
”
“Well, let’s see. She likes it here, for one. She knows how to keep a place, by the looks of the cabin, for two. The boys like her, for three.
The—”
“Stop right there. I thought you told the men to leave her alone.”
“They don’t go
near her place. It’s just…
when she talks to them, she’s respectful, and
she stays out of their way, too,
like when you found her after her dog tangled with the bear and she needed some help getting home. The boys say
she waves and is friendly,
but never asks
them for anything.” He stopped
then plunged on.
“
She plays the piano real nice. Reminded me of Elizabeth and how she used to make that hunk of wood over there sound like something special. And, she’s
the first one who’s
slept over in a long time,
which tells me—”
“Which tells you nothing, Nate.” Jonathan
rose
from his desk and went to the bookshe
lf, pulling down the volume he was
looking for.
“Why she wa
s here overnight
is nobody’s business.
Don’t make more of it than that she needed a listening ear, which I provided.
That’s all it was.”
But he wanted it to be more. Maybe Nate suspected it, too.
Johnathan
sat down, turned
in the direction of the open window
and called out, “Curly!
What’s going on with that stud? If he’s giving you trouble, move him up to the far paddock away from the other horses.”
“Yes, boss,” came the faint reply.
“Nate, didn’t you say you were going
in
to town?”
The older man
didn’t move
. “You and I both know it’s been
a lonely place up here for you,
‘specially after the kids got grown and left to start their own lives. You p
robably don’t want to hear this—
”
“You’re guessing right. I
don’t.
”
Jonathan’s lips were drawn together, the look in his eye telling Nate to be careful.
“
Well,
I’m gonna say it anyways.
You and she make a nice pair. I can see she makes you happy
. You deserve that
.”
“Nate.” Jonathan’s voice rose.
“I know, I know. I’m not your mama, rest her soul. But sometimes, you remind me of—”
“Of what?” Jonathan turned toward the window again
at the sound of the stud’s whinny.
Curly and one of the other men
were moving
the new stallion to his own paddock east of the barn, away the other stock.
“Well, what you re
mind me of,” Nate started again. “S
peaking of horses, like that one
there
—” he pointed outside—“is a fractious stallion,
not
sure what to do when the p
erfect filly comes on the scene.
” He ducked out of the room.
“An interesting allusion.
”
Jonathan rose
and handed his manager the envelope. “You forgot to take this with you. Don’t forget—express deliver
y.” He paused, his voice quieter
. “Please.”
“You bet.” Nate took the package and left.
Suzanna debated with herself for several days
, going back and forth about the pros and cons, and then decided to ask
. She took the letter with her when she went into town.
Dear Kevin and Penny: I’d like you to come for a visit. I can’t believe it’s August already. I want to show you around this beautiful country. Won’t you please consider it?
Love, Mom
PS Sam asks for a box of Milk Bones. I’m enclosing information about flights. Just give me your arrival time and I’ll come get you. Plan to fly to Bozeman.
Suzanna worked all morning at the library, helping Emma select books for the new Children’s Corner. Several mothers commented on how much faster they could locate the titles they were looking for.
Could the same be done with the tapes and CDs?
Emma agreed, and Suzanna
drew up
sketche
s
of
special shelving to house those items. Before she headed home, she stopped at the post office to
mail
her
invitation to Penny and Kevin
.
“Hey there, girl. How’re things?”
Abigail’s smile was broad.
“Just fine, Abby.
” Suzanna handed her the letter
. “You should see how nicely the new Children’s Corner is
developing
. Emma and I are making great progress.”
“That’s good to hear. About as good as your gettin’ close to Jonathan, wouldn’t you agree?” Abigail remarked, her eyebrows raised.
“
I hear tell you’re sleepin’ over these days. It’s about time Jonathan got with the program, if you ask me.” The old woman chuckled.
“Sleeping over?
What are you saying?” Suzanna leaned over the counter at her.
“Don
’t be dense, girl. He likes you.
And it’s about time. He’s been alone too long.”
Her stomach changed places with her heart at Abby’s words as she sought to control her rising ire.
“Abigail. I don’t sleep over as you put it. And, Jonathan and I
…we’re
just friends.”
But the warring butterflies in her stomach told her their relationship had become more than friends, that she wanted it to be more than friends.
“There’s friends and there’s friends,” Abby retorted.
“I told his
daddy
I would watch out for him after that mean ol’ man-hater Chelsea broke his heart. I’m glad to see he’s got a spark in his eye
and a bounce in his step again…
and all because of you.” She toss
ed
Suzanna’s envelope
over her shoulder and
into the
out-going mail
b
ag
.
Suzanna
stared at her, feeling a flush of anger, not caring if Abby saw it, too
.
“Abigail. I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but I am offended and hurt that people might be talking about me—or Jonathan—that way. He deserves better than malicious gossip
, especially from his cousin.
” She paused.
“And, even though I’m not really par
t of this community, so do I.” She
walked out,
lett
ing the door
slam behind her.
On her way home, Suzanna mulled over Abigail
’s words
. She liked Jonathan, and he seemed to like her.
But to be talked about
by others
was unsettling.
She wasn’t used to this small town business of everyone knowing—or thinking they knew—everyone else and what they were doing, how they were feeling.
Should I say something to him about this, or let it pass and hope it goes away?