“My mother did that,” she'd
explained.
“That was her comfort, a
reminder when she was so sick during her treatments.
It's from Philippians.
It's beautiful, I think, the answer to every
worry.”
She’d gotten her Bible and
opened it to the passage, handing it to him to read.
“Have no anxiety about
anything.”
He had smiled and said that
was a tall order indeed.
“But it gives you the way to
accomplish that.
Simple instructions
really.
Just one step.
Pray, with thanksgiving.
It's being thankful that does it, I
think.
Welcoming the challenge.
I love the last part of that passage,
too.
Whatever is true, whatever is pure,
whatever is gracious.
Focus on the
positive things around you, think good thoughts.”
He had promised to remember
the words, to take them with him along with all the other things she had shown
him today.
“How can I leave you?” he had
asked.
It was a question she'd been
asking herself, in the midst of being so uncommonly happy with him.
How would she ever let him go without also
letting him see her fears?
“Leave me with the promise
that you'll be back as soon as you can.
And that you'll write to me, pages and pages of your thoughts.
We've had this day, so full of things that
have changed us forever.
Just promise
we'll have another day, soon.”
He asked that she be patient,
that she trust him.
And she did.
He said he loved her and she believed
him.
He had taken her hands, just before
getting into the car, and pressed them to his chest, just over his heart.
“Tell me we're strong enough to love this
deeply when there are miles and months between us.”
It had been easy to
promise.
There were not enough miles or
months to ever change her feelings for him, she'd said.
If there were, she would already know.
“You're new to this love, Stani, but I've had
almost three years to test it.
I know
now that I've loved you all along.
Thank
God, for both our sakes, you came back to find me.”
He was gone, but she knew that
just as he had been a ghost here since that first night, his presence was now
indelibly etched in the house.
At every
turn she would picture him, with his smile and his searching eyes.
She would hear his voice, his laugh.
He would never be very far away, even when
she knew he was hundreds of miles across the country.
That would be their life together; while she
carried on with what she had started here, Stani would be living the life he
was meant to live, going where his talent demanded.
As long as they could come
together here from time to time, she could be content she told herself.
But would he?
Or would he grow tired of the distance?
Would he want more and reach out to someone closer for what he
needed?
It was a risk she would take.
That night before she went up
to her bed, she stood in front of the mirror and read the words her mother had
relied on.
Peace that passed all
understanding.
Emily had known that kind
of peace, and was sure she would again.
But it might take some time to be truly thankful for the challenge of
loving Stani Moss and watching him leave again and again
.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Dear, darling Stani,
I'm so thankful for all the things I have to do this
month.
If I were not so busy, and the
work were not so enjoyable, I'm sure I would be completely miserable.
Desolate.
Inconsolable.
Seeing your car
pulling out of the gate, still feeling your arms around me and tasting your
kisses, was one of the most traumatic moments I've ever known.
But as Jack always reminds me, I do bounce
back quickly.
I am now more or less
content to look forward to another such life-altering day with you, in the not
too
distant future.
Imagine the look on my face when I discovered your gift
in the Christmas Family folder.
I don't
know how you managed to put it there without my knowing.
One hundred dollars!
Do you realize how many toys that will
buy?
No, of course you don't, because
you have most likely never shopped for a toy in your life.
Thank you, a thousand kisses, thank you!
Please don't begin to consider me any sort of
musician.
I am only good enough to pick
out the notes for my little cherubs to learn their songs.
Since our current church organist lives miles
away, his time is too valuable to spend on such a task, but at the Christmas
Eve Lessons and Carols service, my little ones will have proper
accompaniment.
My only responsibility
will be to keep them still and quiet while they wait their turn to sing.
They look so sweet, sitting around the crèche
during the service, but they have been known to do the most inappropriate
things and I'm expected to keep them from embarrassing their proud
parents.
Wish me luck!
This year there are seven, between the ages
of three and six.
I am sadly
outnumbered!
The youngest, a beautiful
little girl of three, with golden curls and the biggest blue eyes, has attached
herself to me already.
She constantly
demands to be held or carried, which leaves me with only one hand to control
the other six.
I foresee a memorable
Christmas Eve!
Jack and I had a very long talk over lunch after
church.
He was worried that I had done
something rash or at least ill advised.
I assured him that you were only tired and in need of a nap, and that we
were only friends.
Then I had to tell
him, because I’m hopelessly bad at lying, that we are no longer technically
friends, that I am totally and shamelessly in love with you and that you are
fond of me as well.
He will continue to
worry, I'm sure.
But he’s happy for me,
I can see.
He's always told me that a
house and land would not substitute for someone to share my life with.
I'm still high on the memory of all we shared during
those few short hours.
Do you feel the
same, or was it just that I've never known anything to compare with the
feelings you aroused in me?
I was so
completely swept away; and the amazing thing is, I can still conjure up those
feelings, just by remembering each touch, each kiss, even the look in your eyes.
It is at the same time ecstatic and
devastating.
I expect it's just my
inexperience, and once I've become accustomed to such behavior, the shock to my
senses will wear off.
(I admit that I
almost hope it doesn't.
It's a very
pleasant shock!)
Stani, I have a confession to make.
In the time since you were first here, I have
never listened to your recordings.
My
mother had a copy of one of your early records, the collection of sonatas.
I even remember when she bought it.
She said you were just a little older than
me, but you were already making a name for yourself.
I never played it because it seemed too much
like inviting a ghost into the room.
Now
I've listened to it, since you are no longer a ghost, but very much flesh and
blood and the man I first kissed.
Oh,
how very talented you were!
Of course,
I’ve heard you on the radio numerous times, but I admit I tried to pretend it
was just some other violinist and not the one I dragged in from the storm.
And I’ve heard the Bruch, although the
pounding in my ears was a little bit distracting at the time.
Anyway, I wanted you to know that you
overcame my promise never to listen to your music here.
Now I play it for hours on end, imagining
you, in your elegant tailcoat, making that beautiful music.
But imagining is not quite the same as sitting
in the audience watching and listening.
Someday.
Maybe.
Did you give my instructions to John?
I hope he won't have trouble finding that
liniment.
I know you will hate the
smell, but trust me, it works.
The
athletic department at UVA couldn't survive without it.
Just be sure you and John keep it away from
your eyes!
I don't know if he is skilled
at massage, but he can't hurt you by trying.
You do understand you have turned my world upside down
and all my former priorities take second place to thoughts of you, fantasies of
you, dreams of you and hopes of actually being with you?
Yours in all things
,
Emily
Dearest mine,
Fond of you?
Is that how you see it?
Did I so fail to make my feelings clear?
I could have sworn I told you I love you,
every part of you.
And I'm certain I
told you I want you, all of you, forever.
But I can see I shall have to go on explaining myself until you at least
give me credit for being as much in love with you as you fancy yourself with
me.
It will most likely be a tedious
task, but I think I'm man enough to take it on.
It
will
involve a lot of passionate embraces and breathtaking
kisses, won't it?
Otherwise, I doubt
I'll be able to make much of an impression, since words alone don't seem to
express what I feel for you.
Fond of
you?
Really, Emily, you know better.
You're welcome.
No, I've never bought a toy in my life.
Kisses returned, tenfold.
Your cherubs are the most fortunate children in the world
to have your undivided attention.
I'm
sure it will be a memorable Christmas Eve, in every way.
Please try to reassure Jack that my intentions are
honorable.
I certainly want him on my
side, and I fear I made a poor first impression.
No man likes to be caught with his boots off,
you know.
Emily (have you noticed that I love saying your
name?
And I’m afraid I must refuse to
ever, ever call you ‘Em’!), I can only hope that no matter how many
life-altering days we spend together, you never become accustomed to the thrill
of sharing yourself with me.
I told you
I've long wondered what it would be like to be in love, to make love to a woman
whose mind and spirit were as engaging as her body.
Beside the brutal, unholy encounters of the
past, loving you and feeling your response is an intensely spiritual experience
I could never have dreamed possible.
I have so much to think about now, I find it hard to
concentrate on anything but you and the possibilities you have introduced to my
future.
Like you, my former priorities
seem unimportant beside the vision of life with such a single-mindedly
mercurial, utterly desirable, maddeningly unpredictable, devastatingly
beautiful woman.
Never in my nebulous
plans for my life did I have any expectation of finding a partner who so easily
anticipates me, meets me in mid-air, and carries me outside myself to an
infinitely better place.
The
possibilities are endless.
Now if I can
only focus on that which could most quickly bring us together for more than a few
hours.
Yes, John is making a commendable attempt to follow your
instructions.
Your warning comes a bit
late.
We shared some tears over the
first experiment with
the
liniment.
But
you're right, it does work and I'm less stiff the day after a performance.
As to John's skill, compared to your
beautiful, talented fingers, he has the hands of a lumberjack.
But I wouldn't want to make him feel
unappreciated, so I endure his efforts in silence.
Thank you for realizing I needed help when I
myself wouldn't have known to ask.