Now to your shocking confession, my darling.
While I was at first surprised to know you’ve
never listened to my work, I am now amazed at how happy that makes me.
I am the boy who won approval and affection
by playing my violin.
It was my way into
the hearts of everyone, from Milo and Jana to my teachers, to conductors and
audiences.
Other than John, who says he
doesn't have much of an ear, no one has come to me for me, or at least not
until they had first heard me play.
But
you, Emily, you have cared for me without knowing my music.
I have no idea what you love about me, but
that it did not first involve my violin gives me great joy.
I want to share my music with you, don't
doubt that.
But I would like to think
you might love me for the man I am trying to become, not just for the musician
I have been.
You, my love, are a
constant source of encouragement and inspiration.
Emily, dearest Emily, please wait for me to find my way
back to you.
I promise, there will be a
way, and not in some dim future, but soon.
You cannot know how I look forward to being there with you, to sit by
the fire and talk to you, to hold you in my arms and gaze into those smoky
eyes.
And to eat breakfast with you
again.
You were right, I underestimated
you, darling.
A man and a woman, even
the most desirable of women, can sit down to breakfast together.
You make me smile (or grin foolishly) every
time I think of that tray and your profound kiss.
I will never look at bacon the same way
again!
I am bound for Minneapolis, where I hear the temperature
is below zero this morning.
Why didn't I
schedule some gigs in the Bahamas this month?
Keep me warmly in your thoughts.
Equally yours,
Stani
Chapter Forty
As Emily drove the two hours
to Charlottesville, planning to meet Angela at the restaurant and shop for
toys, she rehearsed what she would say, how she would gently turn the
conversation to the subject of Stani.
She had asked Jack not to tell Angela, knowing full well he would have
been tempted to call her the moment he'd found Stani at the farm that
morning.
When he assured her that her
secret was safe, she laughed.
“My secrets are never safe
with you two.
But I do want to tell her
in my own way.
It seems unfair to Stani
for you to report that you caught him sleeping on my couch.
I want Angela to hear a slightly more romantic
version of our day together.”
Jack grimaced.
“Romantic, huh?
Was it the hair or the accent that won you
over?”
“Oh, a little of both.
I thought you told me more than once that
love has nothing to do with logic and that no one is immune.
I admit it, Jack.
You were right.”
“Why is it I almost wish I
hadn't been?
He'll take you away, you
know?
Next thing, you'll be following
him all over the world and the farm will be just a distant memory.”
“Oh, please, Jack.
That's never going to happen.
At best, we'll have a long-distance
relationship with a few pleasant interludes now and then.”
Wishing for once she could hide her feelings
from him, she knew he would see her doubts.
“I have to be realistic, and I will be.
But I'm happy, Jack.”
“As long as you're happy,
we'll deal with the rest.”
Whatever he
believed “the rest” to include, she had been keenly aware of the grim look that
darkened his eyes.
But Jack wouldn’t try
to argue the case; he would just be waiting to support her if and when she needed
it.
Angela, on the other hand, might
well react emotionally, which could mean any number of things.
As they settled in the booth
by the sunny street side window, her heart began to race uncomfortably.
While she listened to Angela explaining that
Lil had started looking for a position with some of the regional orchestras,
setting up auditions for the spring, Emily was sure she felt herself beginning
to blush.
The hands that unwrapped her
silverware from the linen napkin were actually trembling.
Angela paused in her account
of the effort Lil was pouring into her plans, closed her lips as if to put a
period to that topic, and smiled.
“Emily, my dear, you look remarkably like the cat.”
Blinking, she wondered what
she’d missed.
“The cat?”
“The one that ate the
canary.
Or is it the one that tipped
over the cream?
I can never remember.”
Black eyes gleaming, Angela smiled
expectantly.
“What is it you're dying to
tell me?”
“Oh, Angela, I'm in
love!”
She was sure someone else had
blurted out those words.
Angela's usually mobile face was
completely expressionless.
“I see.
And do we know this person with whom you're
in love?
I wasn't aware you were seeing
anyone.”
Something in her voice, some
irony, made Emily suspicious.
Had Jack
broken his promise?
Or was Angela
psychic, as she'd sometimes suspected?
Taking a deep breath, hoping
to salvage some shred of composure, she started again.
“I'm in love with Stani Moss.
I knew when I was here last week but I wasn't
quite sure and I didn't want to say anything until I knew.
But we were together on Saturday and it's so
impossibly wonderful and I just wanted to you to know how happy I am.”
The words tumbled out in one long, breathless
gasp.
Was she never to have any control
over her emotions again, she wondered, as she watched Angela's expression shift
from incredulity to astonishment.
For
just an instant, Emily was afraid her silence preceded a lecture, and then with
a gasp of her own, Angela laughed.
“Oh, my dear!
I have no idea how this happened, but when
you say it like that, I have to believe it was meant to be.
Now slow down and tell me.
Everything.”
Emily blushed a deeper red.
“All
right, maybe not everything.
But tell me
how he ever found you.
I was so sure you
were never going to let him know what you did for him.”
As slowly and coherently as
she could, Emily told her the story, beginning with Stani's first letter, his
search for memories, and his request to meet her.
She talked of her certainty that they would
never see one another again, in spite of his desire to stay in touch.
But his letters had changed that, convincing
her they might have more of a future than she had been willing to hope
for.
As she talked about him, describing
him in glowing detail, he seemed to be there, smiling indulgently.
“Oh, Angela, he's so amazingly
real.
Even though he says he missed out
on learning how to live in the world, with all the focus on his talent, he has
such a good heart and a really sweet sense of humor.
He's just wonderful in every way, I guess.
Does every girl in love think that?
That hers is the finest man alive?”
“Probably, but that's what
love does.
It turns ordinary people into
the best they can be.
Is he fully
recovered from the accident now?”
“I think so.
He's trying hard to take control of his
career and he's probably working too hard.
I have no idea how we'll ever see much of each other, the way he’s
traveling.”
Angela reached across the
table and took Emily's hand.
“Are you
content to be patient, dear?
It's one
thing to be in love, it's another to be happy.”
Past the sudden lump in her
throat, she said, “I'm finding that out.”
Chapter Forty-one
Dearest Stani,
I guess we are officially “out” now.
I told Angela about your visits, our letters,
and a lot of other glowing details concerning what an amazing thing you have
become in my life.
I don't think she was
quite as surprised as she should have been.
Angela is a very wise woman, and she may have expected something like
this would happen all along.
At any
rate, she's happy for us.
The
alternative, that she might have raised questions as to my sanity, was too
terrifying to consider!
It's almost as cold here as in Minnesota, and they’re
predicting snow for Christmas.
Not a
blizzard, please!
We’re getting the
Christmas Family boxes ready to deliver, and good weather would be very
welcome.
Some of these families live in
remote areas of the valley, where the roads are rough at best.
Jack always finds a way to get to everyone,
but a few deliveries have been made on county snow plows.
The list is long, and it will take days to
make the rounds.
Hopefully, if snow
comes, it will wait until Christmas Eve.
You write that you are going to be in New York for
Christmas.
Please try to get some rest,
Stani.
What sort of schedule will you
have after the holidays?
Don't you think
you've earned some time off?
I'm hoping for work in January.
This month at home has been wonderful and
I've kept busy, but I haven't earned any money.
If I can work this winter, when it's time to plant I'll have cash to pay
for the garden.
I want the farm to
eventually earn its keep, but I hope to at least get it started without dipping
into my principal.
We'll see if I'm really
my father's daughter, when I have to work each day at making my garden grow.
Jack will be here soon to pick up more toys.
My dining room is wall-to-wall with Christmas
wrap.
I feel like Santa's elf, and it's
been great fun.
I only wish there
weren't so much need.
Last summer was
terribly dry and it took a toll on all the farms.
The tenant farm families, who barely make it
in the best of years, were hit the hardest.
So many have too many children and not enough education to make more
than a bare-bones living.
These boxes
will ease their situations for a week or two, but there is no good solution for
them long term.
We are so blessed, those
of us with warm houses and plenty to eat.
Not to mention the means to earn a decent living.
While it's gratifying to know we can do
something at the holidays to share our blessings, it makes me sad to see that
much of the year we seem to forget the needs of others.
Jack has made a mission of helping as much as
he can, and he does it so quietly most people have no idea how much he
accomplishes.
He inspires me to look for
ways to help where I can.
Got to go!
There's
a police car at my gate!
I love you
madly, passionately, longingly and most importantly, with all my heart.
Yours completely,
Emily
Emily wrapped and mailed
Stani's Christmas present, worried that he
might
not receive it in time as he traveled back toward New York.
At a men's shop in Charlottesville, whose
window display suggested only the finest goods would be found within, she had
purchased a Black Watch tartan scarf.
Attracted by the label which read “Made in Scotland” and the softness of
the fine wool, she decided it would go well with his black overcoat, but the
deep blue and green in the plaid would perfectly complement his hair.
The idea of a scarf that would encircle his
neck and cross his heart satisfied her need to give him a meaningful but not
extravagant gift.
On the outside of the
package she had
written
in red “Not to be opened before Christmas!”
Stani's last letter had left
her certain he had no plans to come to her during the holidays.
She had invited Jack to Christmas
dinner.
He would be on duty, allowing
his deputies to have the day off, so he would only be with her for an hour or
so to eat the meal and open their gifts to each other.
The McConnells had invited her to supper that
night, but she knew that Peter was bringing his girlfriend home to meet his
parents.
Better to spend the day alone,
listening to holiday music and, she was pretty sure, feeling miserable, than
force herself to be cheerful for the sake of appearances.