by Hayes, Somer
Then I made a pot of coffee and sat out some savory scones and looked around the room. I was ready. I checked my watch and realized I had an hour before the meeting. Great. I was already vibrating with anxious energy. What could I do to occupy myself? I wandered back to my office and looked around, but I was caught up on work.
There was one thing that always soothed my nerves, so I went to the backstage of the theater and pulled one of the extra cellos from a stand. I found a seat and ran my fingers up and down the strings, felt the weight of the bow in my hand, took a steadying breath, and began to play.
The familiar, soothing voice of the cello filled the space, and when I closed my eyes, I was transported back to Manchester, to the symphony I’d grown up with, to my childhood, and to my comfort zone. I could almost feel my grandmother’s watchful eye and see the pride on my dad’s face as I played. For although I’d never been good enough to be selected to play with them, they’d nevertheless encouraged me and took pride in my efforts.
Eventually, I’d convinced myself that that was all I needed. I could play for myself, for the love of music, and support the symphony in a different way. I could ensure it thrived so that other people could fall in love with it as I had. I could provide little girls with the opportunity to watch the magic of the strings and dream about one day playing on a stage.
I could make a difference.
I felt a reassuring calm wash over me, and when the song ended, I opened my eyes and screamed.
In the darkened theater, the shadow of a man stood. I jumped out of my chair, toppling it over and dropping my bow, sending them both crashing to the ground, the sound echoing throughout the space. My heart felt like it was in my throat, and my pulse beat a rapid pace in my ears.
“It’s okay,” the shadowy man said and raised his hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
My hand rose to my throat, and I tried to pull in several slow breaths to calm my breathing.
“What are you doing here?” I asked the faceless person.
“I know I’m early for the board meeting, but when I heard music playing, I wanted to see where it was coming from.” He was walking slowly toward me as he spoke, and when he reached the light, I realized it was Beau.
“You scared me to death!” I picked up the bow I’d dropped and threw it at his head. Lucky for him, I had terrible aim.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said again. “I’m sorry.” He took the set of stairs to join me on the stage. He was wearing a set of dark blue scrubs and smelled like fresh soap.
“Apology not accepted.”
He was watching me with his uncanny gaze again like he was trying to figure me out from the inside. It rankled after the scare he’d given me.
“You play beautifully,” he said. “I have a hard time imagining you couldn’t join any symphony you wanted.”
I sniffed. “That just goes to show how little you know about music.” I checked my watch. “The boardroom is ready. You can go wait in there if you want.”
“What if what I want is to listen to you play some more?”
I made a point to return the cello to its stand, then turned and looked at him. “Then I’d say you are out of luck.”
“You are so stubborn.”
“You are so spoiled.”
His eyes moved to my lips, and the simple act made my body flush with heat.
“Sometimes, I want to kiss the sass right out of your mouth.”
“Sometimes, I want to smack it out of yours.”
“Keep it up, Grace, and I’ll make good on my threat.”
* * *
Refusing to let Beau get the best of me, I spun on my heel and stormed away from him. I went to my office and took some time to go over everything one last time, thinking of every angle, so I wouldn’t be caught off guard. Once I felt ready, I went to the boardroom and made a point of not looking at Beau as I greeted everyone and began my presentation. I took my time going through the strategy with as much detail as I could, then once I was done, I offered to answer any questions they had.
Once all the questions had been answered, Beau spoke for the first time. “Should we put it up for a vote?”
I tried to hide my shock. I was prepared for another battle with him. It couldn’t be this simple. What was his angle?
“I’m ready for the vote if the board is,” I said.
Beau began going around the room calling on each member by name. My hopes rose with each “aye” I heard. Finally, it was Beau’s turn. He laid his eyes on me and held my gaze as he said “aye.”
“Congratulations, Grace. The board has approved your plan, and we’d ask that you move forward.”
I couldn’t help the smile that claimed my face. “Thank you. I’m ready and excited to get started.”
Beau was the first to push away from the table. He shot me a wink and then left. Several members hung around to chat more and discuss thoughts and ideas. I was elated. I even found myself looking forward to some of the events they’d wanted that I had thought were silly or pointless. Maybe I could take my grandma’s advice and try to have some fun while I was here.
I glanced at the door Beau had walked through. It was too dangerous to think of fun and Beau in the same sentence, so I resolved again to keep him at arm’s length.
18
Beau
Beau, you moron.
I berated myself the entire drive home. I had spent the week telling myself that I would stay away from Grace. I’d do my job and let her do hers, but I wouldn’t get involved beyond our work together. I’d even convinced myself I could do it. I’d gone into the meeting that day feeling strong and prepared.
But then I’d walked into that damn theater. It was empty as far as I knew, but when I heard music playing, I’d gone to investigate. There, in the darkened auditorium, sat Grace on the stage. Low-level lighting from somewhere behind her illuminated her perfect form. Her eyes were closed in concentration, and her slender fingers moved deftly over the strings. The song she played was beautiful but not as beautiful as she was.
Like a moth to a flame, I drew nearer. With each step, I became more mesmerized, more drawn to her and her incredible talent. If she’d realized she was no longer alone, she hadn’t shown it, so I allowed myself the luxury of watching her and listening to the song she played with such emotion.
When the song ended, I intended to let her know I was there. Unfortunately, she saw me before I could find my voice. She’d gone from looking like a peaceful angel to an angry spitfire in the beat of a heart. And I think that’s what called to me the most—her passion. Whether she was playing the cello or throwing a bow at me, she did it with everything she had.
It had been so long since I’d felt anything more than mild interest that I wanted to be near her just to feel some of her fire.
So, what did I do? Told her I wanted to kiss her again.
Dumb, dumb, dumb.
She’d shot me down so quickly that it was clear our kiss hadn’t had the effect on her that it had had on me. That stung, but I supposed it was better knowing where I stood, and that the decision to stay away from her was the right one.
Rather than going home to drink a beer and lay on the couch like I had every other night that week, I decided to go to the clinic for a while. I needed to catch up on some paperwork. Maybe that would help me occupy my mind with anything other than Grace for a while.
I pulled into the lot, and there was only one other car there—Nancy’s.
Good. She’d set me up with her nightmare of a niece and then scampered off on vacation for a week. I let myself in the back door and found her sitting in the reception area. I lifted my hands.
“What the hell, Nancy?”
She peered at me over her reading glasses. “The cruise was wonderful. Thank you for asking. It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Kim? Is that really what you think of me?”
“Of course not, you dummy, but she’d been pestering me for so long that it wa
s either my sanity or yours. I chose mine.”
“So, you’re aware she sucks?” I asked.
“You’re the dummy, not me.”
“Well, thanks a lot. That was one of the most annoying nights of my life.”
“Yeah, well, maybe we’ve both gotten her off our backs for the time being.”
“I hate you,” I declared.
“Shut up. You love me.”
“What are you doing here, anyway? I didn’t think you came back until tomorrow.”
“I love Ron, but a week on a boat is plenty of together time. I needed to get out of the house for a while.”
I chuckled. The cruise had been their gift to themselves to celebrate their fortieth wedding anniversary, so clearly, they were doing something right.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“I thought it would be a good time to catch up on some paperwork without anyone here to bother me.”
“Likewise, so scram.”
“Remind me tomorrow to fire you.”
“Yes, Dr. Maverick.”
I went to my office and clicked on the desk light, then opened my laptop. Keeping up with charts was my least favorite thing to do which meant it often got pushed to the bottom of my to-do list, which meant I was always behind on them.
I worked for about two hours before Nancy poked her head in. “I’m heading out. See you tomorrow.”
I rubbed the heels of my hands into my eyes and pushed the screen on my laptop shut. “I’ll walk out with you.” I’d made enough progress that I was ready to call it a night.
“Did I miss anything while I was gone?” Nancy asked.
I thought back. “Not really. One emergency surgery, but it went fine.”
“It’s good to know the ship won’t sink without me.”
“We managed to stay afloat, but I’m glad to have you back.” I opened the door of her car for her. “Night.”
I went to my car and made the short drive to my house. I fed Chip and then rummaged around in the fridge to find something to eat. I found most of a leftover burrito and put it in the microwave. While I waited for it to heat up, I grabbed a beer and popped the top.
Another night. Another beer. Another reheated burrito.
I sighed and lamented how lame I’d become.
The microwave dinged, and I sat at the island to eat. Once Chip finished his bowl of food, he came over to sit at my feet and silently beg for a bite of my dinner. “No way. You’ve had yours, and you don’t need anymore.”
Whine.
I made a point of ignoring him and focused on my plate. His heavy breathing turned into whining which turned into a bark.
“Don’t get bossy. You’re not getting any.”
He snorted at me but didn’t move. I wondered what it would be like to eat a meal in peace in my own home. I knew I’d never find out as long as Chip was around. I finished my dinner, drained the beer, then took Chip in the backyard to do his business. The night was cool and quiet. The stars shone brightly above me.
Once Chip was finished, we went upstairs to the bedroom, and I deposited him in the bed. I cracked a window to let in the fresh night air, then turned on the TV and got in bed. I was mostly zoned out when my phone dinged, signaling a new email.
I unlocked the phone and hated the thrill I felt when I saw Grace’s name in my inbox. I was pathetic. I opened the email and saw she’d already put together a schedule of events and requested that we look through them and let her know if and when we were available to volunteer.
As chair, I should make it a point to be at as many of the events as I was able, but that foiled my plans of avoiding Grace as much as possible. I thought of her in her little A-frame cabin not two miles away from me, sitting at the counter or maybe in bed pouring over her work even at this hour. I had to respect her work ethic and dedication.
When we’d voted to pass her plan, her smile had been genuine, and I felt the light shining from her. Maybe I’d been too harsh accusing her of not caring about her work here. Or maybe she’d just been happy she’d finally gotten her way, and she was one step closer to going back home and leaving Montana behind.
Leaving me behind.
Once again, my mother’s words returned to me. Buck up, cowboy.
Harrumph. I wasn’t in the mood to buck up. Instead, I turned the TV off, pulled the blankets over my head, and tried not to think of Grace as I drifted off to sleep.
19
Grace
There it was again. I muted the TV and strained to listen for the odd squeaking sound that had been annoying me for most of the night. I’d first noticed it when I’d opened my bedroom window to let some of the cool, clean air into the house. It was just loud enough for me to notice but only came sporadically. I waited, hoping to hear it again so I could figure it out, fix it, and finally get some rest.
When it came again, I heard it well enough to realize it was coming from outside. I threw my blankets back, wrapped a sweater over my nightie, and went to investigate. I stepped out on the porch and held still, waiting.
Squeak.
I went down the stairs and waited again. It squeaked again. I went to my left and crouched by the bushes next to the deck. I saw a tiny movement and almost chickened out thinking it might be some weird Montana animal I’d never heard of before but had a taste for human flesh. But when it squeaked again, the sound was so pitiful I decided I had to find out. I reached into the bush and parted a couple of the branches.
There, laying in a dewy pile of leaves was the smallest kitten I had ever seen. She struggled to lift her head and let out a tiny sound. Hands shaking, I reached to scoop her up. She was so small that she fit in one of my palms. Her fur was damp, and her little body shivered. I held her to my chest and took her inside. In the kitchen, I got a towel and tried to dry her off as best I could, but she seemed so fragile that I was scared of being too rough. Once I felt satisfied she was mostly dry, I pulled out a clean towel and wrapped her in it.
I rubbed her head with the pad of my forefinger. “How did you end up out there all alone?”
Eyes that seemed too big for her head blinked up at me. Something warm began to unfurl in my chest. I knew I had to help her but didn’t know anything about taking care of a kitten, let alone one who seemed to have been orphaned far too young.
“What am I going to do with you?” I asked her. She gave up her fight and closed her eyes. I cradled her against my chest and wondered what I should do next.
Realization dawned, and I wanted to curse. I knew a vet, and I was sure he would help me. But did I want his help? I looked down at the tiny ball of fluff and knew that whether I wanted it or not, I needed it.
I climbed the stairs to the loft and got back under the blankets, tucking the kitten in with me to keep her warm, then reached for my phone. Was eleven o’clock too late to call him? Maybe I’d better just text instead.
Grace: Beau? I’m sorry to bother you so late, but are you up? I need a favor.
I put the phone down and ran my finger up and down the kitten’s head, which I hoped would feel reassuring to her. My phone buzzed.
Beau: I’m up. Is everything okay?
I snapped a picture of the kitten.
Grace: I found this in the bushes outside, and I’m not sure what to do.
Beau: It was alone?
Grace: Yes.
Beau: Too young to survive on its own. Meet me at the clinic. I can help.
Grace: On my way. Thank you.
I left her tucked into the blankets while I pulled on a pair of leggings and found some shoes. The clinic wasn’t far, so I considered walking, but I was worried the air was too cool to have the kitten out in it any longer than necessary. Leaving her bundled in the towel, I picked her up, grabbed my purse, and drove to the clinic.
Beau pulled in a minute later. I got out of the car with my package. “Thanks so much for meeting me.”
“Of course. It’s what I’m here for. Come on in,” he said and unlocked the door.
I stepped inside and immediately felt better in the warmth of the clinic, the smell of cleaning supplies heavy in the air.
“I’m not sure how long she’s been out there, but she seems half frozen.” Beau took my elbow and guided me into an exam room. “I didn’t know what I was hearing or else I would have gotten her sooner.” He took my shoulders, spun me, and sat me down on a chair. “She was wet. I tried to dry her off, but she’s so fragile, I didn’t want to hurt her.”
“Grace.”
The sound of my name stopped me short. I looked up at Beau. His blue eyes were gentle.
“Hush now. I’ve got this.”
At his words, I felt my anxiety ebb and seep out of my body. He crouched in front of me and gently took my bundle. She looked even smaller in his big hands. He carefully unwrapped the towel until he could see all of her.
He glanced at me. “She can’t be more than a day or two old. It’s a good thing you found her when you did.”
“Will she be okay?”
He stood and took her to an exam table and turned on a light. “She’ll require a lot of care and attention over the next several weeks, but assuming all goes well, she should be okay.”
I wrung my hands and watched as Beau’s capable hands examined the tiny kitten. “No trauma or injuries that I can find. Just far too young to be able to survive on her own.” He returned her to the towel and wrapped her in it, then pulled the light low over her. “This’ll help keep her warm.”
I peeked in at her to make sure she was comfortable and then looked back at Beau. “Now what?”
