The bustle outside continued without interrupting us, and I wondered if I could get to the fire alarm and pull the handle without arousing suspicion. Since it wasn’t in my room or under my desk, it was safe to say that couldn’t happen. Nevertheless, I begged God for a distraction.
Caleb reared his head back and his brows knitted together. “What? You’re kidding, right?”
The breath I drew in expanded my chest, and when I exhaled, tension went with it. “Nope. I don’t even have a ticket.”
He locked his elbows beside him. “Dude, if money’s the issue, my dad will get you a ticket.”
Money wasn’t a factor. I hadn’t even considered using it as an excuse because I’d hoped no one would ask where I was until after the game. “Caleb, I appreciate the offer. I just wouldn’t feel right.”
“You’re like family, Eli. My parents wouldn’t think twice about it.”
I’d never taken handouts from them in all the years I’d known Caleb. It had been a bone of contention between us when he went skiing over winter break or to Jamaica in the spring. They weren’t trips I could afford; therefore, I didn’t go. Caleb had always offered, and I’d politely refused. “Not going to happen, Chapman. And you know it.”
He huffed when he stood. “Pride cometh before the fall, man.”
I didn’t try to stifle the laugh as I walked to the hall behind Caleb. “Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to fall if I don’t take a free ticket to a football game.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “I will, however, take you up on that free dinner you offered to cook at your house.”
“Crap. I totally forgot to mention that to Chas.” He pointed at me as he walked backward into the sea of students swimming down the hall. “It’s a date. Promise.”
One of the players on the team tackled Caleb, knocking him off balance. I’d gotten out of that too easily. My heart still raced after he’d left, and I worried I’d get caught.
But not so much that I changed my plans.
* * *
I’d changed clothes three times, and I still wasn’t happy with what I had on. I didn’t have a clue what to wear to this type of thing. It was in a church, so I assumed that meant dressier than casual, but that could be anything from slacks to a suit. If it were black tie then I was just screwed. This was what invitations were for. But I hadn’t gotten one since I wasn’t technically invited. And if they asked for one at the door—or my name—I’d get turned away. Nevertheless, I planned to attend.
With one final glimpse in the mirror, I settled on a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, grey slacks, a black belt, and dress shoes. The look was classic. I could roll up the sleeves if I were overdressed, and if I got into the parking lot and saw men in suits, I could add a jacket and tie with ease. I had to admit, I cleaned up well. The haircut I’d gotten last night helped, as did the hot shave.
Traffic had turned the twenty-minute drive to the church into thirty, and I’d stopped by a florist and picked up flowers. Yet standing in the parking lot, it seemed foolish and maybe even inappropriate. Although, there were others carrying arrangements, and my attire was spot on without the tie or jacket. It was the first time I’d ever thanked Chasity—albeit silently in my head—for the nagging she’d done with Caleb. Even if she had been a bit overbearing, she’d imparted—inadvertently—a great deal of social knowledge and class structure in small-town Georgia. Caleb had known the dos and don’ts of polite society. He’d just chosen to ignore them. I’d soaked it up like a sponge. Michigan was a very different place than the deep South.
I locked the truck and made my way to the steps of the unfamiliar church. I’d never know how small towns in the South could support churches on every corner. A woman in a long, black dress greeted each person at the sanctuary and handed out programs. The rows of pews appeared infinite and surprisingly full. I’d only arrived about ten minutes early, not realizing there’d be standing room only.
“Just one, sir?” A girl, about ten or eleven years old, stared up at me.
I’d missed the question through the muffled voices around me. “I’m sorry?”
“Do you need a seat for one?” She too wore a long, black dress and a gentle smile.
I nodded. “Yes, please.”
“Follow me.”
She moved down the center aisle, I assumed to show me to a seat; however, I stopped mid-way to stare at the lone grand piano that sat center stage. The pulpit had been transformed from a place to preach to a podium to perform. The sleek, black piano sat elevated, surrounded by carpeted steps on three sides.
“Sir?”
I blinked and looked around for the little voice. Even the balconies were full. “Sorry.”
She sat me next to an older couple on the end of a pew. “There will be a reception in the auditorium following the performances. I hope you’ll join us.”
I didn’t know what I’d expected, but this was far more grandiose than anything in my mind. I’d been to concerts that weren’t this well attended.
“Good afternoon.” An older man stood at a microphone to the side of the piano. “I’d like to thank you all for attending our fall recital.” He had a warm smile that reminded me of my grandfather. “I have the pleasure of teaching an amazing group of students who are all gifted musicians. This year is no exception. But rather than me tell you about them, I’ll let you listen for yourself. Please welcome Maggie Chan.” He bowed off, clapping as an Asian girl took the stage.
She practically had to climb onto the bench, and her feet didn’t reach the peddles. I prepared myself for a fabulous rendition of “Mary Had a Little Lamb” or “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” Maggie situated herself and straightened her black dress. And thunder struck when her tiny hands hit the keys. I glanced around, expecting chatter about this tiny wonder who pounded out an intense, dark piece of classical music. Yet no one seemed the least bit surprised. Or the girl who followed her or the boy after that. Each one was better than the last, and their ages varied from five or six to seventeen or eighteen.
I glanced at the program. There were twelve students performing today, and Colbie was the finale. If I’d thought she were breathtaking at Caleb’s wedding, it was nothing compared to today. Colbie appeared out of the same door at the side of the sanctuary that all the other performers had. Poised, elegant—everything her mother would be so proud of—she held her shoulders back and her head high. Colbie was in her element. She also believed she was alone.
When she faced the audience, her beauty rendered me speechless. The gown she wore accentuated her sleek shoulders and cinched waist while hiding her long, muscular legs. Her hair was pulled into some fancy hairdo that highlighted her neck, and all I could think about was kissing her from ear to nape.
She bowed and then quietly took the bench, spreading the skirt of her dress as she went. God, she was stunning. What I wouldn’t give to see just how mesmerizing she was out of it. My mind began to disrobe her before I mentally slapped myself back in line. In all the times I’d heard Colbie play, there’d only been once that she’d played a song from start to finish. She’d work the same section of a piece for so long in the practice rooms that I’d almost convinced myself I could play them. Other than “Winterwind,” none of the other titles listed under her name in the program were familiar to me.
Less than a minute after she began to play, the man beside me leaned over to whisper, “She’s a prodigy. We come every year just to hear her play.” He eased back against the pew and closed his eyes.
I glanced around to see more than one face covered in peace, eyes closed. People felt her. As much as I didn’t want to take my eyes off her for a second, I allowed my lids to drift shut and my heart to accept the emotion she poured into the piano. A lump formed in my throat that made swallowing difficult, and my chest constricted. Her parents had missed this. They didn’t get to see the way people viewed their daughter. They didn’t get to hear the accolades sung in her name.
Her parents missed her pe
rfection.
And when she played the first notes of the étude, I prayed they’d missed one more glimpse and she pulled this off without a hitch. Colbie desperately wanted this execution to be spot on. Her fingers raced the keys at a pace I couldn’t keep up with. Her hands were a blur, and her shoulders and torso jerked in front of the instrument. She put her entire body into playing Chopin.
When she’d finished, her hands hovered just inches above the keys, and Colbie allowed the music to fade before she stood. Tears glistened just under her pale blue irises, and her chest heaved the way it did when we ran. At that precise moment, she noticed me in the audience.
Flawless.
Fucking flawless.
I was the first to rise, leaving the flowers on the pew. Her eyes never left mine—even as hair fell from her up-do into her face—from the first clap through the standing ovation. She closed her hands in front of her mouth, overwhelmed by the audience, and bowed again before she exited the stage.
The man beside me elbowed me. “Bloody brilliant, right?”
“She’s amazing.” But I wasn’t just referring to her musical talent.
Colbie Chapman was the whole package. Beauty, brains, talent, gumption, drive, wit, and God, did she have the capacity to love.
“This is her last year. She’s leaving for college this summer.” A stranger appeared disappointed by the loss of a girl he didn’t know, yet her family remained oblivious. “Maybe we’ll see her on the stage with an orchestra one day.” He and his wife scooted out of the pew and spilled into the aisle where everyone had started to exit.
I’d missed anything her teacher had said after Colbie had left the stage. The line to get out of the sanctuary was a mile long, so I sat in the pew to wait. And even after the audience had left, I remained there, unsure of what to do next. My heart longed to see her, hug her, be close to her, even if just briefly. My head told me it would set her back and to stay away.
I hadn’t heard anyone else in the room until she stood next to me.
“May I?”
I couldn’t discern her tone, but I slid over nonetheless.
“What are you doing here, Dr. Paxton?” Confusion mixed with innocence sprinkled with love.
Sitting sideways on a wooden pew, I faced her and tucked the stray lock of hair behind her ear out of habit. “Did you think I wouldn’t come?”
She’d never asked me. In fact, other than her telling me about the work she put in, there’d been little mention of the recital since the weekend of her brother’s wedding.
In a manner that would have her mother reeling, she snorted out a huff of a laugh. “I didn’t think you’d even remember much less miss the game to be here.” She glanced at her hands in her lap and started to pick at the skin around her nails.
“I’ll never choose anything over you.” Talking to her head wasn’t ideal, but Colbie all but refused to look up.
“Except your career.” It was nothing more than a hushed whisper.
I’d managed to keep from touching her—well, other than the hair thing—since she’d sat down. Until now. Instinctively, my fingers tilted her chin. “I didn’t choose my career over you, Cole. I chose your security over my happiness. And there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I could do something different.”
Desperation marred her brow and wrinkled her forehead. “But you can…” She had no idea how badly I wanted to give her everything she asked for.
The blue in her eyes swirled with feathers of gold and strings of intoxicating sapphire. And when she licked her lips, I wanted to seal my mouth to hers. I let go of her chin, hoping to break the spell that surrounded us. I was seconds away from throwing caution to the wind and Colbie over my shoulder. “It seems like graduation is a lifetime away. I get that. I really do—”
“Don’t say anything else. I understand.”
“Clearly, you don’t.” My voice had risen, and I had to pause to collect myself so we didn’t end up with company. “You think I don’t want to be with you. That this is easy for me.”
The girl I’d met on the first day now sat before me. “Isn’t it?” Her words were crisp, her expression staunch, and her wall was higher than it had ever been.
I dared to take her hand in mine, and she didn’t resist, even if she didn’t reciprocate. “No. No, it’s not. In fact, it’s by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.” I searched the sanctuary for witnesses or anyone who might be within earshot. “Do you have any idea how much I agonize over not being able to touch you? Or see you?” I ran my free hand through my hair. “God, Colbie. I sit down the hall while you work in the practice rooms just to be close to you. I catch glimpses of you running but stay far enough behind that you don’t see me.” I shouldn’t admit any of this. “I type out text messages and never hit send.”
“Why?”
“Because I miss you. Every day.” I couldn’t hide my frustration any longer, and it came through in my desperate tone. “I miss talking to you, running with you, texting you. Jesus. I miss the way you whisper my name in my ear after you kiss my jaw. It’s everything, Colbie. It’s you. I don’t feel like I can breathe right and like my heart beats just half a beat behind because yours isn’t there to beat with it. But until you graduate, I can’t erase any of that pain for me or you. And I hate it.”
Either I’d stunned her into silence or she’d had a brain aneurysm. Since she was still upright, I guessed it was the first.
“Colbie, sweetheart. There you are.” A voice boomed from behind us. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Come join us at the reception. Bring your friend.” He continued toward us as he spoke.
Colbie stood and stepped into the aisle to greet him. All her practiced charm came front and center. “Dr. Chalmers, this is my friend, Eli Paxton.” She turned to me with a demure grin, but the joy didn’t reach her eyes. “Eli, this is my piano teacher, Dr. Chalmers.”
I shook the man’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Colbie speaks very highly.”
He clapped me on the shoulder and slid his arm around me in a fatherly embrace. “Son, I wish I could say the same. This one”—he tilted his head toward Colbie affectionately—“hasn’t ever mentioned a special someone.”
Colbie tried to interject, “Oh, no—”
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you. Colbie is a fantastic girl.” Nothing other than love showed in the lines of age that marked his skin. “I knew when that special someone came along, he would have to be perfect.” Dr. Chalmers winked at Colbie and tossed a hearty grin at me.
He let me go and cuddled Colbie in a hug. “And you. As always, you’re the talk of the recital.” Dr. Chalmers released his student and clapped his hands. “Come to the auditorium. Both of you.”
I needed to allow Colbie time to enjoy her day, not that I wanted to leave. “I really should be going.”
“Nonsense. Come.” Dr. Chalmers didn’t leave room for an argument and started toward the reception.
I extended my arm to Colbie the same way I had the night of her brother’s rehearsal and wedding. She took it and let me escort her. As soon as she entered the room, people turned toward us and started clapping and whistling. The blush that overtook her cheeks complimented her milky complexion. I’d never seen the subtle smile she wore for the people who now surrounded her. Colbie was pure class and the epitome of elegance.
I stood back and admired the way she moved through the crowd and worked the room. She was born for this, but I wondered if she’d ever get to embrace a life that welcomed her the way these people did. Leaned against a wall with a glass of sparkling punch, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
“I’m glad she’s found you.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin when Dr. Chalmers spoke. “Pardon?” If I’d had anything in my mouth I would have choked on it. I hadn’t thought coming here would alert the media to my feelings.
He raised his hand that held his drink and pointed toward Colbie. “I’ve been worried
about her.”
“How so?” I had to be careful how I approached this. I didn’t know what he referred to, nor how close he might be with her parents, although I doubted they had much of a relationship since they never attended these things.
Dr. Chalmers hadn’t turned toward me, instead he watched Colbie as though he needed to be certain of where she was in the room so he couldn’t be overheard. “You love her?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know—”
He shook his head with a smile. “Son, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. A fool could see it a mile away. Colbie needs that. That unconditional devotion, love.”
There was no point in denying anything. The old man would believe what he wanted. What he didn’t need to believe or even be aware of was that I was also her teacher.
“Colbie has been a pupil of mine for over a decade.” He chuckled. “I remember how tiny she was when she first started. About Maggie Chan’s size. Delicate, almost fragile, until her fingers touched those keys and her soul caught fire. In all my years, I’d never seen anything like her, and to date, I still haven’t.”
“I sense a but coming.”
“For years, that flame burned without kindling. Colbie was intense, even as a small girl. She confided in me as she got older, but sometime last year, something snuffed out her fire and she quit talking. I have my thoughts about what it might have been, but nothing concrete.”
God, I wanted to pry. Compare notes. Get him to tell me anything he could. Except, in order to do that, I had to offer the same. And I couldn’t break her confidence or risk anyone finding out.
“Your silence tells me you know what I’m talking about, Eli.”
I hadn’t taken my eyes off her. She was as happy here as she was when we ran together. This moment was a reprieve for her. A sanctuary of sorts. I wanted this for her every day. “I do.”
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