“You got all that while eating
dinner with them?”
“Well, I've thought about it
some, too.
Even when you were there with
me, before Jack came, I thought about the people who loved you, who would be
frantic to know where you were.
You're
the kind of person who inspires nothing less than total devotion.
Anyone who cares for you would have to care
passionately.”
“You knew that by watching me
lie unconscious for hours?
You may be
less of a realist than I took you for.”
“No, I think it's totally
realistic.
A person's face when they're
sleeping says a great deal about them.
Yours is sweet, gentle, vulnerable.
I was sure there was a woman, a friend or a lover, who was waiting to
nurse you back to health.”
For an instant, he seemed at a
loss to respond.
“But there was no
woman, darling.
Until you.”
“Maybe, but I prayed for her.”
Stani pressed her head to his
shoulder with a little chuckle.
“Maybe
it was that slightly chubby, middle-aged nurse who gave the pain
injections.
Maybe she was the one you
prayed for.
She certainly kept me out of
touch with reality for a number of days.”
“Maybe, but I somehow doubt
it.”
She gazed up into his face, as if
waiting for him to say more.
“Anyway, I
think you underestimate how much they all love you.
And speaking of loving you, now they all must
know you're in love.
How are you going
to handle that?”
“I thought I already had.
While that kiss was totally spontaneous, I
think it was the perfect way to tell them.
Of course, it may have gone right over Milo's head, but it took care of
everyone else.
If they love me the way
you seem to think, they should be happy for me.”
“I wish they knew how
completely I intend to love you, to take care of you.
I hope in time they'll accept me, even Milo.”
She curled against him, stifling a yawn.
“They will, once they know we
plan to spend our lives together.
But
since you insist on waiting to tell them, they'll just have to speculate, won't
they?”
As he kissed her again, she
stretched her arms around his neck.
“You've had a busy day, little girl.
Should you go to bed?”
“No.
I want to stay with you as long as I
can.
We don't have much more time, and
then you'll be halfway across the world.
Just let me stay a little longer.”
“When you put it that way, how
could I ever refuse?”
When John stopped in for his
final check at midnight, he was treated to the sight of Emily curled on the
couch, sound asleep.
“Shh, let her
sleep.”
Stani let him in with a
grin.
“I'll get her downstairs
eventually.
Tonight was difficult for
her, but I think it went well, don't you?”
“I'd say so; and if the look
on Milo's face was any indication, you made points.
That was a brave speech, lad.
I was proud of you myself.
Now if you and sleeping beauty there will
excuse me, I'll be off.”
He turned back
at the door, a twinkle in his eyes.
“Just remember, you're not made of stone.”
Chapter Fifty-five
Stani stirred at six, at first
surprised that he’d slept so well here on the couch.
In the next instant, the heart thumping
reality jolted him awake.
Emily was
curled at his side, her head on his shoulder, her hand tucked sweetly inside
his shirt.
Easing himself away from her,
he tiptoed to the bedroom and phoned room service to order their breakfast.
Waiting as long he dared, he
finally kissed her awake.
“Don't panic,
love.
We both fell asleep.
Breakfast will be here soon,” he whispered,
hoping she would wake slowly, but she sat up with a start, gazing around in
confusion.
As her mind cleared, she
smiled, and then to his utter amazement, she laughed.
“I have been totally
corrupted.
I spent the night with a man
in a hotel room.
Isn't it
wonderful?”
She stood up, rising on
tiptoe and stretching her full length, lifting her hair and letting it cascade
around her shoulders.
For a moment,
Stani could only stare in awe at the dance-like grace of her movements.
Then, with another gurgle of laughter, she
spun into his arms.
“You goose!
Here I was terrified you'd be furious with
me, or worse, in tears.
Wonderful, is
it?
You've ruined my reputation and you
think it's wonderful?”
He hugged her
close, eye to eye now.
“Won't you stay
with me forever?
Get your passport and
follow me all over Europe, sleeping in my hotel rooms, eating breakfast with me
every morning.
We could sneak down to
city hall and make it all legal.
Anything you want, if you'll just stay with me!”
Lifting her off her feet, he twirled her
around the room in a waltz.
At the discreet knock on the
door he released her and as she struggled for breath, he went to admit the
waiter, tossing a roguish grin over his shoulder.
Over breakfast, he resumed his
plea.
“You can plant your garden next year,
after we're over the first blush of marital bliss.
I'll even help you, if you think I'm
teachable.
But this would be such a
wonderful adventure, our first trip to Europe together.
Please at least think about it?”
“I have thought about it.
Do you think I want to be separated from you
for so long?
But this is my one chance
to test my dream.
I know it's not much
of a dream compared to a trip to Europe with you, but I want to do this,
Stani.
Plus, I need to get back to
work.
Maybe this is something we're
supposed to do, be apart for a while.
I
love you for wanting me, but you'll still want me next tour, won't you?
And by then we'll be married and I promise I
will
put my garden on hold for my
husband.
Besides, I don't even have a
passport.”
“Who ever thought I'd bow to
the needs of cabbages and cucumbers?
But
will you promise to get a passport, and soon?
What if I get hit by that bus and need you to rush to my side?
I could languish for weeks waiting for the
State Department to get your paperwork in order.
Or you might decide you can't bear to be away
from me any longer and fly over to surprise me.
That would be romantic, wouldn't it?”
“Romantic and expensive.
And don't even mention that bus!
You know how I worry, so don't play to my
weakness.
Now finish your breakfast and
let's talk about what we're doing today.
I refuse to think about the fact that in a week's time, you'll be
thousands of miles away, with an ocean between us.
Aren't we supposed to take a field trip to
Tiffany's today?”
“Ah, that's right, to see the
marvelous Miss Marshall.
But right now,
I think you had best get out of here.
John should be here any time, and while I'm sure he won't judge, I did
make a big deal of our not sleeping on the same floor.
He'll lose respect for me, if he knows you
forced yourself on me last night.”
His
dark eyes gleaming with laughter, he ducked as she tossed her napkin at his
head.
Marching to the door, she
opened it with a flourish, only to be greeted by John's teasing grin.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty, I see the
prince finally showed up.”
In the sunroom of Peg
Shannon's palatial townhouse, while Stani rehearsed in the second floor
ballroom, Emily sat listening to stories of his early career.
Peg described in detail his transformation
from awkward teenager to superstar, recalling the image of the painfully shy
boy she'd first seen perform.
Her
obvious pride in his success, the light in her eyes when she talked of his intelligence
and willingness to learn, confirmed much of what Emily had already surmised
about the relationship they had shared.
When Peg went on to talk about
the days after the accident, the months of recovery, her emotions betrayed
her.
Her voice quavering, she told Emily
that she had feared at one point Stani would never be himself again.
He had retreated into some dark place,
shutting her out, she said.
But then he
had asked to hear the Mendelssohn recording, and after that day he had started
the journey back.
“It's been long and
difficult, and if the truth were known, I doubt he's satisfied yet.
John thinks he pushes himself too hard.
You know he's started composing?”
“I know he plans to.
He seems to have endless energy.”
“No one has endless
energy.
Some of us just don’t know when
to quit.
From what he tells me, you push
yourself pretty hard, too.
The two of
you will have to learn to watch out for each other.
I suspect he loves you very much, Emily.
I've never seen him so relaxed and
happy.
Seeing him smile, hearing him
actually laugh, is something new for all of us.
He's never been really happy.
Oh,
he's sweet tempered, don't get me wrong.
But he's always seemed a little sad, never quite pleased with
himself.
You've no idea the changes in
him in the past couple of months.
Meeting
you, seeing the two of you together last night, I understand.
I always told him he'd find the perfect
partner.”
With a chuckle, Emily replied,
“If he hadn't been so persistent, I'd probably still be holding on to the idea
that we're too different to ever be together.
But he wore me down.
He can be
very persuasive.”
“He said something last night
that shocked me a bit.
He mentioned God,
as if he might have found religion.
Is
that the case?”
“Maybe he should tell you
about that himself.
I know how much he
values your friendship.
He says you
saved him from being a total disaster, when you took him under your wing.
To hear him tell it, you taught him almost
everything he knows, except how to play the violin, of course.”
Observing the wistful smile that crossed Peg's
face, as she so clearly looked back at that time now past, Emily was momentarily
embarrassed.
Her impressions had been
correct, and she could almost feel sorry for Peg.
“Speaking of music, do you think we could
listen in for a few minutes?
I'd love to
hear them rehearse.”
She followed Peg up the
stairs, the sound of strings growing ever clearer.
When they reached the ballroom door, Emily
hesitated, doubting her own ears.
The
melody was a familiar one, but the setting was new.
She watched Stani, when the piece had come to
a close, speaking to the other musicians.
“Thank you, gentlemen.
I’m glad you agree this will be the perfect
encore.
And I know a young lady who, I
hope at least, will be particularly grateful that you learned it so
quickly.”
The others chuckled with him,
apparently sharing some private joke, and began to pack up their
instruments.
Emily stood in the doorway,
unsure of what to do, until Stani turned and his eyes met hers.
A sheepish grin split his face.
“You caught me!” he called across the room.
When she had crossed the
expanse of floor, he captured her in his free arm.
Still holding violin and bow in his left
hand, he hugged her close.
“Gentlemen,
this
is Emily,” he said pointedly.
To her
astonishment, the three men stood and applauded.
In confusion, she looked down and her eye
fell to the sheet music on the stand in front of her.
The title of the piece they had just finished
was written in Stani's unmistakable hand.
“Emily's Theme—Simple Gifts.”