Nameless

by Marni MacRae

  The violins vibrate against the window glass, and Laurel skips in singing along with Chris Martin as he proclaims the old king is dead. As the song builds, I can’t help but laugh as Laurel twirls around the kitchen singing into a wooden spoon to Eve whose eyes are wide and bright, her hands gripping the countertop and her smile as full as I have ever seen it.

  As the chorus repeats, Laurel croons along with the oh’s in the background, encouraging Eve to sing along. Eve laughs and begins ohing along with Laurel into the spoon until the song comes to an end. Laurel grabs the remote off the counter where she had tossed it when she bounced into the room and turns the volume down to bearable levels.

  “Man, rich people have the best stereo systems!”

  “That was wonderful!” Eve looks like she wants to clap her hands.

  “Yeah, the magic of radio waves, sweetie.” Laurel winks and grabs a water from the fridge.

  Eve cocks her head, listening to the intro to Someone LikeYou by Adele, and I see her face change. The piano part has always been one of my favorites. I turn it up when it comes on the radio even though Lee says I’m a chick for liking it. Eve, though, looks like she recognizes the song, or remembers something, and my heart lurches in my chest. Oh, please, don’t scream, don’t faint. I step toward her just as she slides off her stool and skips down the hall toward the front door.

  “What the hell?” I hurry after her with Laurel close on my heels as Adele croons I heard that your dreams came true…

  Eve steps off through the doorway to the parlor, and as I follow inside, I see her slide onto the piano bench. Her fingers seek out the keys, the speakers in the room carrying Adele’s sultry voice, and Eve plays a chord, matching the song perfectly.

  She changes then. I watch it happen. It’s like someone slides into her. She is a woman with a passion and a peace all at once as her fingers play the next chord. Eve follows the song in its change, and then she smiles softly. Like something clicked and she gets it.

  Her hands begin running up the keys, her fingers playing in unison along with Adele’s song, and Laurel looks at me with a hint of awe in her eyes.

  “Did you know she could do that?” she mouths, not wanting to interrupt Eve who plays on with her eyes closed, head cocked. Adele’s voice ringing out, Nevermind, I’ll find someone like you, don’t forget me I beg, I remember you said, sometimes it lasts love, but sometimes it hurts instead.

  I shake my head. I had no idea. But watching her, something swells inside me. Pride. I am proud of this woman who is strong and beautiful, curious, and honest. Watching her play the piano adds an individuality, an art to her. She couldn’t be more perfect to me.

  “Don’t cry, big boy.” Laurel elbows my ribs as the song comes to a close, and she turns the volume down with the remote. “It will make her uncomfortable.”

  I wasn’t going to cry. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m smiling, but I elbow Laurel back and cross the room to Eve. I don’t want her to stop. I want her to explore this discovery. So, I lean against the body of the piano and ask her to keep going.

  “Can you remember anything else you might know how to play?”

  Laurel turns the stereo off and sits on the loveseat across from the piano.

  Eve glances at me, then at Laurel and smiles widely. “Yes. I do remember.”

  Then she turns back to the keys and I sit down beside Laurel. The song she plays is so haunting and beautiful I close my eyes and listen to the end. Soaking in the notes and movement. Hearing Eve in the expression of its execution.

  The notes rise and fall with a clear melody running through it, and I sense whoever wrote it had sadness in them, and yearning. Laurel and I remain quiet as Eve’s fingers play the last notes, and I open my eyes to see her staring at her hands resting on the keys. Her face is relaxed, and as she turns to us, I see for the first time, Eve at peace. No haunting past, no fear of who she may be, if she will ever find out. Just a woman and a song. Her eyes meet mine, and her smile is slow and easy as she gives us a slight bow.

  Laurel leaps to her feet and applauds just as the knocker on the door bangs against its brass plate.

  “Oh, I’ll get it—that’s Tuck.”

  I move to join Eve on the piano bench, and she slides over to allow room.

  “That was…stunning.” I reach out and tuck a stray hair behind her ear.

  “Thank you.” Eve's voice is soft as she too seems to be in awe of what just came out of her. “It felt wonderful.”

  She turns her eyes to the black and white keys and reaches up a hand to touch them. Almost a caress.

  “I would like to hear more.” I lean in, my arm brushing hers, the warmth of us reaching toward each other naturally.

  “Perhaps later.” Eve lifts her head and smiles shyly, then her eyes focus past me to Laurel and the scent of pizza.

  “Eve.”

  I turn on the bench to see Laurel presenting Tuck Williams to our lovely hostess.

  “This is Tuck. Tuck, Eve Brighton.”

  I watch as Tuck tips an imaginary hat to Eve and smiles.

  He nods at the piano and asks, “That you playing Bach?”

  “You know what she was playing?”

  Laurel looks at Tuck in surprise, and I choke back a laugh. Women seem to think men are made to work on cars, watch football and complain about shopping. I admit I am all those things, but I can boast a few refinements.

  Tuck shrugs and grins down at Laurel. As tall as she is, Tuck’s lanky form has more than a few inches on her. “Oh, sure. We play classical in the stables a lot. It calms the horses. Suite no. 3 happens to be one of my favorites. I waited outside till you were done.” He gives Eve a slight bow. “You play better than the original.”

  Eve blushes visibly and manages to get out a “thank you” and “nice to meet you.”

  “How about that pizza?” Hoping to rescue Eve from more blushing, I take a box from Tuck and gesture down the hall to the kitchen. “Let's grab some plates.”

  * * *

  Over the next hour, I watch as Eve devours three slices of pizza, two Hawaiian and one meat lovers, and mercilessly questioned Tuck about horses, training, and racing.

  I know Tuck from around town, though he showed up a few years after graduation so we hadn’t gone to school together. He works as a trainer over on the Greyson’s ranch and came highly recommended. Laurel proudly boasts he is a horse whisperer which leads to more questions. I sit back to watch as the two of them haphazardly piece together a reasonable explanation of exactly what Tuck does.

  I did some work at the Greyson stable one summer when I was home from college, so I’m familiar with their setup. It’s an enjoyable experience to watch as Eve soaks in the racing circle and the world of Kentucky horse breeding.

  “You know, Ms. T. has a stable here,” I mention offhand and then at once regret it as all three of them insist we take Eve on a tour. “All right, but it’s getting dark. Let’s talk to the Thorn Queen about setting that up one day when we have plenty of daylight.”

  Tuck nods in agreement and thankfully the girls let the idea drop.

  “I saw part of a show about horses last night.” Eve smiles at me and begins retelling everything she remembers about the last twenty minutes of A Man from Snowy River. Apparently, she only caught the end of that one as well.

  Tuck claims it’s one of his favorites, which leads to a spirited debate over the best movies ever made that Eve “absolutely must” watch. According to Laurel. Which then leads the four of us to the opulent living room where Laurel begins digging out DVDs from orderly drawers containing dozens of movies.

  “I found it when I was searching for the stereo,” Laurel claims as she scans the collection for something worthy of the “classic” title. “Aha!” Plucking a case from the drawer Laurel brandishes Casablanca, and Tuck and I groan in unison.

  “If we’re gonna watch something, babe, let's watch a western.” Tuck leans over the drawer and starts pulling out colorful cases, hoping to find
a John Wayne classic, I’m sure.

  A quick glance at the stack at their feet, and I pluck out one I’m pretty sure Eve will love. “This is it.” I proclaim.

  “No! Not Spaceballs—she won’t be able to get the references or humor.” Laurel rolls her eyes at me, “You’re no help at all.”

  As we all threw out opinions and choices, Eve finally settles the battle by proclaiming, “Each of you choose two and put them in a pile. I’ll close my eyes and pick one.”

  It sounds fair so the three of us grab our movies of choice and toss them on the floor at Eve’s feet. Closing her eyes, she leans over and rifles through the smooth cases before grasping one and holding it up.

  “This one.”

  She opens her eyes to Laurel clapping and doing a little celebration dance.

  The next two hours are spent with Eve curled against me on the long sectional sofa, Laurel in the same position with Tuck on the loveseat, watching Dirty Dancing.

  Chapter 17

  Rain tickles at my bedroom window as I wake up, and I take a long moment to just revel in the moment. My bed is soft, the comforter wrapped around me made of down feathers, and although it feels as light as air, I am warm and toasty in its embrace. I stretch and roll to my side to watch the lazy rivulets run down the glass pane across the room. Letting my thoughts wander to last night.

  Nick stayed till midnight. After Dirty Dancing, Laurel insisted we turn up the music and dance. Tuck passed around bottles of beer, and although it tasted bitter and sharp, I kind of enjoyed it. Nick warned me to sip it slowly, and recalling my experience with Pepsi, I heeded his advice.

  I couldn’t help but laugh as Laurel tried to imitate the dances from the movie, dragging Tuck into the middle of the kitchen insisting they could do the lift. They couldn’t. But not for lack of trying or encouragement. Even Nick joined in the clapping and yells of “try again” until we were all laughing, and Laurel admitted defeat.

  “We need to practice it in the water,” Tuck offered as a defense for their failure.

  “Nope, no way am I getting in a lake to fall headfirst into fish poop and strangle weed.”

  Laurel grabbed Tuck’s hand as the music changed, and they began slow dancing in the hallway. Nick led me to the center of the kitchen and attempted to dance with me.

  Our height difference put my nose at his chest, and I kept craning my neck to look up at him. Finally, both of us laughing too hard to keep rhythm to the song, he had reached down and lifted me against him. His strong arms wrapped around my waist. My hands firmly clasped behind his neck. He swayed gently, turning in a circle with my feet dangling inches above the floor as a young man playing a guitar sang about love and coming home.

  I had felt perfectly happy. After finishing our drinks and chatting a bit longer, Laurel and Tuck said their goodbyes, and I thanked them for the pizza, movie and music.

  Then Nick had turned the music down low and we sat on the couch talking. We talked for hours. Not just me asking questions, which he was really patient with me about, but sharing thoughts on people and the movie. Nick told me about his business, his years in college and described his family members to me until I could almost picture them.

  “You know you can’t go back to the field.”

  He had sounded so serious when he said it. I already knew I wouldn’t go back. I had been pretty sure he would mention it, but I hated tarnishing the evening with my crazy, so I agreed and promised I wouldn’t return. He hadn’t pushed to continue the topic further, and I was grateful for that.

  We sat close on the long couch where we had watched the movie, and Nick had pulled me to him, sliding me onto his lap. He ran his hands down my sides, up my back until I was leaning into him, my mouth seeking the heat it knew it would find in Nick’s kiss.

  After that, I lost track of time. When he finally claimed he should leave, we were stretched out along the length of the couch together, my legs tangled in his, our arms wrapped around each other. My lips felt full and warm, and my breasts ached against his chest. I didn’t want him to leave. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep there. Wake up to his heat, his scent. But he slowly untangled himself from me, pressing a last soft kiss against my mouth. Then he was gone.

  I listened until the sound of his truck engine had faded to nothing, and then I had climbed the stairs, stripped off my clothes, and crawled beneath the soft down comforter.

  Watching the rain trickle down the glass now brings back memories of waking in the field. I would much rather keep my thoughts on Nick. With a final stretch, I roll out of bed and begin my day.

  First a shower, then I had promised breakfast with Elizabeth. I want to get some solid plans for the garden. After that, I am due at Dr. Leesing’s.

  * * *

  “Good morning Eve!” Elizabeth looks as fresh and chipper as a spring flower. Wearing a pale pink, buttoned blouse and faded jeans she looks younger than her years. The pink of the blouse brings out a healthy blush in her cheeks, and she has her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Sitting at the end of a long dining table laden with silver dome-covered platters that give off a heavenly aroma, she smiles up at me as I walk in.

  “How was your evening? I understand the handsome Nicolas Donovan stayed late last night.”

  I can feel the blood that rushes to my cheeks as I choose a chair next to the older woman and sit down.

  “Yes, Laurel and her boyfriend Tuck stopped by. We had pizza and watched a movie. Nick stayed to talk and left late.”

  I don’t know why I feel the need to explain my evening. I’m not ashamed of how I feel about Nick or for the four of us singing and dancing around the house.

  “I should have called and invited you over.”

  I give Elizabeth a bright smile and begin choosing items from the dishes on the table, loading my plate with more than I could possibly eat.

  “Oh, heavens, no. You kids have fun. I’m actually delighted Nicolas has shown an interest in you. He is a good man with a head for business. I trust he behaves like a gentleman?”

  She glances sideways at me as I take a bite of scrambled eggs.

  “Oh, yes, he is a gentleman through and through,” I mutter around my food.

  “Excellent.” Elizabeth nods her approval and spreads apple butter onto a triangle wedge of toast.

  “Good morning, Ezra.” I wave as the older man silently enters from the side door, placing a stack of mail at Elizabeth’s elbow.

  “Good morning, Miss Eve.”

  Both Ezra and Elizabeth are looking at me, and I wonder if I am supposed to pretend Ezra isn’t there. He always seems so…unhappy. I have guessed that it might be due to not having any friends. No one seems to address him but Ms. T and then only to direct him to do something. I make up my mind as Elizabeth turns her attention to the correspondence that I will make friends with Ezra. It is an awful thing to feel lonely.

  As the butler leaves the room, I dig into my breakfast, and Elizabeth opens her mail. After a few minutes, she sets the stack aside and relaxes in her chair, sipping coffee from a delicate porcelain cup.

  “What are your plans today, dear?”

  “Well, you wanted to look at the gardens. I am looking forward to that.” I push my plate away before I overeat and end up sick or too stuffed to walk. “I want to see the layout and get a feel for what needs to be done before we plant. Do you have an idea of what you want in the garden?”

  “Of course. I have the information right here. The seeds were ordered last fall, and I have a map here of the garden plot.” She hands me a file with pages of diagrams, lists of seeds and planting rotations. Some of the papers look quite old, and I look up from the file to find Elizabeth peeking over the folder at the pages with me.

  “Those there are my grandmother’s notes. She was an avid gardener. She began the rose gardens and had the greenhouse constructed.”

  “Were you close to your grandmother?” I turn some pages inside the folder and find an old photograph of rows upon rows of roses. The
picture is black and white and aged, but I can see the quality of the garden and why someone would want to photograph it.

  “Yes. I was raised here in my younger years, then traveled with my parents and for schooling, but I always loved coming home to my grandparents and the gardens.”

  I’m sorry again for the loss of her son. I imagine Elizabeth would have continued the tradition with her own grandchild. Losing the possibility to have any more family must be a sharp wound. One that can’t be mended.

  “It looks lovely. It’s raining today so we may get wet, but I am eager to have a look.”

  “Rain is good for the soil and the soul.” Setting her delicate cup on its saucer, Elizabeth rises and beckons me to follow. “Come, dear, no time like the present.”

  I am led through halls of the sprawling home I haven’t traveled before toward the back of the house. We pass through an immense kitchen and into an adjoining room with hooks lining the walls. On the hooks hang rain coats, scarves, wide brimmed hats made for inclement weather, and layers of shawls and overcoats. On the floor below the rows of garments stand an array of boots. I chuckle as Elizabeth dons a pair of bright pink rubber boots and fetches a hat from a hook to match.

  “Wrap up, Eve.” She gives me a wink as she throws a shawl around her shoulders. “No need to risk sickness.”

  I dive into the piles of clothing, trading my white canvas shoes for a sensible pair of boots similar to Elizabeth’s but in a cheery shade of yellow. They are far too large for my feet, but the smallest pair available. I see no yellow hat to match the boots so settle for a brown, oiled-canvas one with a wide brim. Finishing the outfit with an overcoat that almost hangs to my ankles, I roll the sleeves a few times and give Elizabeth a thumbs up. “All set.”

  The smile on her face is almost childlike as she shakes her head and opens the door to the steady rain outside. “You look smashing Eve, like a little girl playing dress up. I adore your sense of fashion.”

  “Humph,” I say as I clomp out the door and down the few steps to a brick path. Each step I take threatens to lose my boots so I concentrate on my walking, taking slow exaggerated steps in an attempt to keep the things from flying off me.