“Maybe that
went along with her talent.
As far as I
know, you didn't inherit that from either of them.”
Emily grinned,
shaking her head.
“I can't play much
more than chopsticks, no matter how much she wanted me to.
It's funny, because I love music so much, but
I never wanted to play.
Having the two
of them in the house, I suppose I didn't need to.
I miss hearing them, though.
Especially Mother.
There was something so personal about the way
she played.
Every piece of music seemed
to be her own.
I plan to have the piano
tuned.
Then at least my chopsticks will
be on key.”
She laughed to hide the lump
that rose in her throat.
“Still have
J.D.'s violin?”
“Of
course.
I put it on the piano, just the
way Mother used to for Christmas.
He
never played you know, after she was gone.”
They were entering dangerous waters and she looked away, searching for a
way to change the subject.
Through the
front window, she saw Peter and James McConnell passing and pointed them out to
Jack.
“How long is James home this
time?”
“Only two
weeks.
He'll be getting out soon.
None too soon, though.
He's in pretty rough shape, from what Mike
says.
He's been in the thick of things
over there.”
Emily watched as the
brothers stopped to wait for passing traffic at the corner.
Always very different, James tall and dark,
Peter stockier and fair, now the contrast was startling; James was gaunt, his
expression somber and guarded, while Peter grinned and waved at the driver as
the car passed.
“My roommate's
fiancé is over there.
Do you think it
will ever end?”
“Someday.
But not before taking its toll, like all
wars.
Bad thing about this one is the
way people here at home feel about it.
The boys are going to suffer from that, just the same as being in
combat.
It's not their fault.
They're just following orders.”
Noticing the sadness that had crept into her
eyes, Jack pointed to her untouched apple pie.
“Are you going to eat that, or just stare it down?”
She smiled up
at him, a smile too wise for her years.
“I'm going to eat it, silly.
Have
you ever known me to pass up anything wrapped in pastry?
How much more time do I get before we have to
leave town?
I'd like to go by the
parsonage and say hello to Sara.
And
tell her I can help with Vacation Bible School this summer.”
Slowly, the smile grew until that one dimple
peeked out.
“Okay, you go
to the parsonage and meet me back at Martha Jean's in two hours.
I'll be done for the day by then and we can
load up your loot and head for the hills.
What about the market?
I thought
you needed some things there.”
“I left my list
and Mr. Brown said he'd have it ready whenever I wanted to pick it up.
You should see the lamb chops he has!
If you can stay for supper, I'll order some
for us.”
Helping her
into her coat, he chuckled.
“You twisted
my arm.
Can you fix some of those
carrots with that glaze you used to make?”
“Why Jack,
don't tell me you've missed my cooking?
I would have come home a lot sooner, if I'd known that.”
Laughing, they went out into the
sunshine.
Talk around the square that
afternoon was that Emily Haynes was coming home.
And Sheriff Deem had actually been seen
laughing out loud.
Chapter Seventeen
By midweek,
Jack was encouraging Emily to telephone Angela with her news.
“It's not right for one of us to know without
telling the other one.
I don't want her
getting all over me for keeping your secret.”
Stopping by at lunch time, he’d been persuaded to have a bowl of beef
stew.
As he sat at the kitchen table
watching her working around the kitchen, he grinned.
“You don't need a step stool anymore to reach
the counter tops.”
“Hardly.
In case you hadn't noticed, I grew.
And grew!”
When she took
her place across from him, he drew another of those sighs that always preceded
a serious conversation.
“A guy came in
today, from New York, asking questions about the accident.”
“Another
newspaper type?”
Her spoon paused in
mid-air.
“No.
This one was an investigator.
He said he works for Stani Moss's
manager.
They're trying to figure out
how he came to be down here in the first place.”
Now she laid
down her spoon and gave him her full attention.
“Can't he tell them?”
“Apparently
not.
I didn't get much of an answer when
I asked how he was doing.
Just that he
was still in the hospital recovering from some kind of surgery.
But this fellow wanted to know about you.
Or at least he wanted to know about the woman
who found Moss.”
“What did you
tell him?”
“All I told him
was that you didn't want any publicity.
I let him know I'm your guardian and I intend to protect you.
He was a nice guy, really.
I think he understood.”
She stared out
the window, wondering what condition Stani might be in by now.
Why would an investigator need to come all
the way down here to learn what happened that night?
She had told herself that once he was back
with his family, he'd move forward.
It
had never occurred to her that they would want to look back to what had taken
place here.
“Don't look so
upset, Em.
He won't bother you.
I think he's just trying to make sure nothing
happened that they need to cover up.
I
get the impression this Moss is something of a bad boy.
The guy driving the car certainly was.
It sounds like they were off on an adventure
that went wrong.”
It didn't fit,
not with her impression of him.
That
face she had watched all those hours did not belong to a “bad boy.”
“Maybe so.
I guess I'll never know.
At this
point, I just want it to all go away, Jack.
I want to get on with my life, without wondering who's going to come
around asking questions next.”
He reached
across the table and took her hand.
“I
know, Em.
This was likely the last we'll
hear about it.”
When she turned her gaze
out the window again, staring off across the yard, he patted her hand.
“Eat your stew.
I've got to get back to work.
I'll tell you what.
Instead of calling Angela, how about I take
you to Charlottesville tomorrow?
We can
have lunch with Angela and stop by the nursing home.
Maybe it'll be easier to tell her if I'm
along, anyway.”
Her eyes, dark
gray with a worried reflection, met his.
Slowly, her lips curved in a serious little smile.
“You're too good to me, Jack.
What did I ever do to deserve a godfather
like you?”
“You'd have to
ask someone else that question.
I'm just
doing what I can for my best girl.
Besides, the food at Salvatore's is the best around.
I always eat there when I have to go across
the valley.
Call Angela and make the
date.
Now give me a hug.
I've got a ton of end of the year paperwork
to dig through.”
He stood up, shrugging
into his jacket.
“Poor
Jack.
All work and no play?”
“Heck no.
I play.
Just not when anybody's watching.”
He winked, something that had always gotten a smile from her.
“Now wipe that worried look off your
face.
You want Angela to think you've
got everything under control, don't you?”
She laughed
softly.
“That would be a lie, Jack.
And I thought I was giving up lying.
I'll be happy if Angela doesn't try to
convince me I've lost my mind.”
Angela
Salvatore had always been involved in her life, from as early as Emily could
remember.
Although she lived two hours
away, and had a demanding job and a family of her own, she made it clear that
she was interested in every aspect of life at the farm.
Angela Pappas had first known Lilianne
Goddard as her instructor while a student at the conservatory, before returning
to New York to marry her childhood sweetheart.
The daughter of Greek immigrants, her marriage to Gianni Salvatore, the
son of an Italian restauranteur, was destined to be passionate and even stormy
at times.
By the time she’d obtained a
position teaching piano alongside her former mentor, Angela was the mother of a
young son and Sal had decided that New York was too small for one more
Salvatore's Ristorante.
He had taken a
small store front in downtown Charlottesville and established a little bit of
Italy in the Blue Ridge.
Angela
possessed all of the qualities Lilianne admired most.
She was musically gifted, passionate about
life and inclined to follow her emotions rather than the dictates of
reason.
They seemed to understand each
other at a glance, to communicate without words; and the bond between them only
grew stronger through the years.
When
Emily was born, her mother had been certain that in the event she could not see
her daughter to adulthood, Angela would be the perfect surrogate.
Now as Emily
sat across the table in the sunny restaurant, Angela seemed to be waiting, as
if she already knew but was willing to let Emily put into words what was on her
mind.
The problem was the words wouldn't
come.
It had been relatively easy to
tell Jack that she wanted to come home, but the prospect of telling Angela left
her strangely speechless.
As she pushed
her salad around the plate, Jack cleared his throat.
“Emily has decided to make some changes in
her school plans.”
Angela raised
one finely arched black brow.
“Really?
What kind of changes,
dear?”
“I'm going to
transfer to the University, I hope.”
“That would be
wonderful, Em.
But is that what your
father would want?”
The question was
asked in the kindest of voices, but it cut like a knife through Emily's
confidence.
“I think he
would, if he knew it was what I wanted.”
Surprised by the resolve in her own voice, she went on.
“I think he would expect me to take charge of
my life.
And I'm not happy in
Williamsburg.
I want to come home.”
There, it was out.
The look of mild concern in Angela's eyes
encouraged her.
She had feared an instant
expression of dismay, or even disapproval.
“I see.
I can't say I'm surprised.
It was only a matter of time.
You were bound to find your way back to that
farm.
It's where you belong.”
In a characteristic move, Angela ran a hand
through her long hair, twisting it in a rope over her shoulder.
Her hair, black now streaking with silver,
was as much a means of expression as words or gestures.
With a toss, she could dismiss any argument;
swept back with both hands, she eloquently displayed her anger or frustration,
and with this gentle twist, Emily knew she was preparing to listen carefully.
With help from
Jack, she explained her plan; and at each turn, Angela nodded, occasionally
muttering a word or two of understanding.
Emily thought she seemed to be reading between the words, interpreting
the underlying emotions, and knew by the look in her eyes, she had captured
Angela's sympathy.