Sonata by Moonlight

by A. E. Easterlin

  It was a battle, primal and elemental, that seemed to go on for hours. Straining for air, he returned her kisses, devoured her mouth. She laughed aloud. Wanted more. Asked for more. Outside the storm raged on; inside the storm was just beginning.

  He gave her one last chance, one last opportunity to choose. Her head cocked, her eyes narrowed, she dared him, challenged him to quit. But it was too late.

  “Remember who started this,” he growled. “Now, let’s finish it.”

  She laughed a siren’s laugh. “Give me all of you, Brodie. Don’t be afraid, don’t play safe. Not now. Not when we’re so close.” Tonight she wanted him to make her forget everything.

  And so he did.

  ****

  As night gave way to morning, Brodie woke and stared at the ceiling through unblinking eyes. Allison had dragged him into a raging, violent storm, and somehow they’d both survived. Whatever he’d done, he hoped it was right. Whatever it meant, he hoped it was enough, because he didn’t think he’d live through another night like that one.

  Brodie felt her stir and turned toward a pair of mesmerizing eyes. Clear. Cognizant. No hint of the confusion of yesterday. Sated. Satisfied. Dare he hope…happy? Where the delicate blush of color started, he couldn’t tell, but it blossomed under her beard-scraped skin and bloomed into crimson. Wide-eyed, she shook her head and buried her face in her pillow.

  Peeking from under its protection, she raised her brows and bit her lip.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered.

  Brodie stared back, amazed at her concern for him. He’d just had the hottest night of his life with the most incredible woman in the world. What wouldn’t be all right?

  “I’m blown away. Damn, Ally. What was that? While you were gone, a wildcat slipped into my bed and had her way with me. I might never be the same,” he teased.

  “Complaining?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Hell, no.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and smiled into her embarrassed face. “But if we’re going again, I need some time to recuperate.”

  She giggled. A real giggle, sheer music to his ears. The sound was better than one of her perfectly performed sonatas.

  She stretched, and a purring sound escaping her mouth. He grinned and watched as her arms stretched above her head, lengthening her body, letting the blood flow from head to toe. She was so beautiful in the morning. So temptingly lovely.

  “Oh, we can definitely do it again, but I think I’m going to need a little time myself.” She ran her hand up his chest, and made lazy circles in the furring over his pectorals.

  His smile turned serious as he lifted one sweet palm to his mouth, and pressed a warm kiss there. “You’re okay? Things got…intense last night.”

  “I’m fine. Better than fine.” Her face grew warm. “I’m not sure what to say. Did I scare you away?”

  “Baby, I don’t know what to call what we did to each other last night. But it didn’t scare me. Put your worries away. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Thank you. For caring, for being here, for all of it. Especially last night.”

  “How about some breakfast? I’m starving. We didn’t eat yesterday…not food, anyway,” he teased, pretending to avoid her slaps as she went after him, her legs rolling off the bed.

  She swayed uncertainly, a little lightheaded after the exertions of the night. He pulled her against his side until she steadied, then swatted her on her bottom.

  “I need a shower. How about you?”

  “Hmm. A shower and some food. Then I want to take a book out on the deck and get some sun. You?”

  “That sounds like the perfect day to me. Unless you want my help with your shower?” A slow, smooth grin crawled over his mouth.

  She brushed a sweet kiss on his lips. “I think that can be arranged. But could you start the coffee first?”

  “As you wish, my lady,” he replied, and sauntered from the room.

  ****

  Allison stared at her reflection in the mirror. A shocked stranger looked back at her. What in the name of God had gotten into her last night? She’d seen the piano and everything came crashing down on her—Sam…Brett…her doubts about the therapy program, doubts about herself, feeling like a complete and utter failure. She’d thought she had it all under control. But she was wrong.

  Thank God for Brodie. She understood now how men could turn everything off and lose themselves in the physical act of sex as a release. To forget, to get lost in sensation and wipe out everything else except the slide of skin on skin, the burn of white, hot heat in the blood, the ecstasy of pleasure beyond imagining. He must have thought she’d lost her sanity last night. But he stayed. Stayed while the turbulence of passion raged through both of them. Brodie was an incredible lover.

  She let the heat of the water and the steam loosen her muscles, clear away the fog. If she hadn’t been in love with him before, she certainly was now. And in spite of the near violence of their lovemaking she felt a serene peace envelop her. With him, she was safe and cherished. Nothing could destroy her as long as she had him.

  She shook her head slowly from side to side, astonished by her behavior. Wild and wanton. She hadn’t known she was capable of getting so carried away, feeling so completely out of control. But she had to admit, as baffled as she was by her actions, she’d exorcised her demons, or Brodie had—at least most of them. She felt released from the past. Renewed.

  Brodie stepped under the hot water, reached for the shampoo, and massaged her scalp slowly and gently. “Hmm…I could get used to this,” she murmured, enjoying the warmth of intimacy as well as of water. Being with Brodie, leaning on him, facilitated the physical and emotional cleansing she needed, the digging deep into the dark places; it allowed her to breathe again, and heal.

  “Me, too.” Brodie moaned, as his hands memorized her body.

  She took the soap from his hands and turned him to the wall. “You’ve got a really nice body, Colonel Miller. I find I quite enjoy having my hands on your muscles.”

  “You can have your hands on my muscles anytime you like, Ms. Chandler. I find I quite enjoy…oops…” He laughed as her hand closed around him.

  “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure everything still works.”

  “I work just fine, as you can tell.” He turned to her, and the water ran cold before they finally made breakfast and settled on the deck.

  She tried to read but kept getting distracted by the play of bone and sinew under his skin, the sprinkling of hair across his chest, the length of his legs, the flex of his biceps as he laced his fingers behind his head. She was so gone for this man, it was ridiculous. He was incredibly sexy.

  And he was hers!

  After she started the same page for the fifth time, he grinned without looking in her direction. “Are you checking me out, Ally?” he teased.

  “Yeah.” She gave him an answering grin. “Sorry. I can’t help it. You’re so beautiful.”

  “Men can’t be beautiful. Men are ruggedly handsome. Women are beautiful.”

  “I respectfully disagree, sir.” She giggled. “Isn’t Michelangelo’s David beautiful? Or Belvedere’s Apollo? And don’t forget our own beautiful Vulcan, a personal favorite of mine. He’s beautiful.” She touched him with her forefinger, and lightly grazed up and down his arm.

  “I can see you’ve given this a lot of thought.” He rolled on his lounger and faced her.

  “Since you came back into my world, I’ve thought of little else.”

  Brodie pulled her over on top of him, and bracketed her body between his thighs. She leaned back on his chest, relishing the heat from the sun and the steady beat of his heart beneath her shoulder blades. Contentment spread through her body as she relaxed against him. His arms crossed beneath her breasts, he tenderly weighed them, thumbs brushing lightly over her nipples.

  She loved his touch, but they were too depleted from last night’s exertions to make love. Still, it was nice to sit close. Cuddle. Feel him.
Smell him. Hold him. She nuzzled her head under his chin and hugged his arms against her.

  “I love you,” she murmured as he pressed kisses into her hair and she relaxed against him.

  After a while, she dozed in the sunlight, feeling the soft Alabama breeze caress her skin. All the horrors of the past few days floated away on currents of lazy, lapping water as it slapped against the pilings under the jutting pier.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ally spent the next three days eating, drinking, sleeping, and loving. Brodie commuted to UAB and worked with the team. She kept busy working on the line-up of musicians and selections for the fundraiser. The only thing she didn’t do was go near the piano.

  If she was going to perform, she needed to practice. With Brodie away in the afternoons, it was the perfect time. But she just couldn’t do it. Every time she walked toward the instrument, a cold chill ran up her spine. It was silly. The piano hadn’t done a thing; it had merely been an observer.

  Her e-mail was full of artists willing to participate in the concert. A program forming in her head, she created a rough draft on her laptop and e-mailed it to Mary. Once she had her friend’s approval, she’d contact a printer and design the programs. She wanted the insignias from all branches of the military included in the design. Rather than opt for the usual holiday images, she thought it would be appropriate and beautiful to have a white dove with the American flag, symbolizing peace, embossed on the cover. They could pay homage to the season with the colors of print and in the border.

  Structure for the program took shape. Beginning the program with some traditional holiday songs still appealed to her. A second act could have the classical performances. The third would contain sacred themes. She glanced at the piano—it grew larger each time she looked at it. Not yet, but soon. She couldn’t avoid playing forever. Next week, she’d be back at the VA. She’d have to play then.

  Saturday morning, they left the lake early. She felt sad to go, and Brodie promised they could come back often. So much had been shared there; the cottage seemed to belong to them in some special way. Their special place.

  Brodie didn’t want her to have to face her house without him, but he had to be at the field as soon as they hit the city limits. She decided to go to her office until game time and download her ideas about the program to her desktop. If Mary was working, as she often was on a Saturday, they could go over her plans and be ready to talk to a print shop on Monday.

  Immersed in her own plans, Allison waited almost too late to leave for the game. Brodie had given her passes before he dropped her off, but she didn’t have her car. Taking a cab would be easier, but chaos would prevail at the stadium, with fans and tailgaters partying and working each other up into a frenzy before the Blazers took the field. So she walked the eleven blocks to the stadium, for the exercise.

  When she finally found the section reserved for the coaches’ families, the National Anthem was being played. She stood with her hand over her heart for the beloved song, tears welling in her eyes as she thought of all those who had fought and died to keep America free. Brett. Sam. The men in her group. Most of all, Brodie Miller, who stood at attention on the sidelines of the football field and sang the words in worshipful reverence.

  Allison took her seat and glanced around. She didn’t recognize anyone except Coach Randall’s wife, Laura. She nodded her way and turned her attention to the field. Game time.

  Allison cheered as the team took possession of the ball. Brodie stalked the sidelines, yelling at the quarterback to look sharp. She observed the young player during the team’s first possession. He had a tendency to drop back too far in the pocket and let his elbow drop, cutting off precious seconds for a quick release and making it hard for his lineman to defend.

  Brodie drew him to his side as the defense ran onto the field. Whatever he said must have been effective, because he connected with his receiver on the first play. The big back ran the entire length of the field on first down and scored. The crowd went wild. The field goal centered through the uprights, and they were ahead 7-0.

  Screaming as loudly as anyone else at the game, she cheered the Blazers to victory. The score was a righteous 21-7. All the wives and girlfriends of the staff hugged and congratulated each other. Laura introduced Allison around the two rows of women, and she was warmly welcomed.

  The “girls” loved Brodie. One lady slyly confided she thought him a “hunk.” Ally could only agree, with a smirk. If she only knew. The familiar warmth spread through her with thoughts of his taste and touch, and an image of his mouthwatering body flashed in her mind.

  Waiting in the hall outside the men’s locker room, she greeted some of the players. A few of the guys grinned and flirted as they passed her by. One of the last to come out, Brodie hooked his arms around her neck and leaned in for a kiss. A loud, “Aw,” came from the back of the hall, and she laughed as he told the guys to get lost.

  Allison was totally enchanted with him and couldn’t resist a quick peck on the cheek.

  “You looked good out there. And happy. I’m proud of you,” she said.

  Brodie laughed. “Thanks. Want to get something to eat?”

  “You know, if it’s all right, I’d just as soon go home and be with you.”

  A flush spread under his skin. “Not going to argue with that. You ready for this?”

  “I can’t avoid my house forever. Sooner or later I’m going to have to face it.”

  She was tense and quiet on the drive home, her hands clasped so tightly together that her knuckles were white. Brodie kept glancing her way, obviously concerned. Sirius was set to the classical station, the Boston Symphony recording of Beethoven’s Opus 26, with its hummable melodic line played softly in the background. She listened to the music, letting it take her mind off seeing the house, entering the living room, reliving the horror that had taken place there.

  Brodie’s deep bass voice cut the silence. “I know you’re scared. If you aren’t up to facing your place, we can spend the night at mine.”

  A knot the size of a golf ball lodged in her throat. Sooner or later she had to pull up her big-girl panties. She couldn’t run away from Sam’s death or dread interacting with her piano forever. She had commitments. Her therapy group depended on her, the concert was coming up, and she couldn’t afford to wallow in fear and self-pity.

  “If you could just walk in with me. Make sure I’m not going to fall apart, I’d appreciate it. Then I’d like to spend the night alone, and…”

  Brodie interrupted. “Not a chance. I’m not going to let you stay by yourself until I’m sure you’re okay.”

  “I can do this, Brodie. Trust me. This is where I live. The piano is how I make my living. I have to face my demons and find a way through this on my own. You’re right across the street. If I sense a panic attack coming on, I’ll call you and you can be there in seconds. I’m not nearly as fragile as you think. My meltdown the other night notwithstanding.”

  His hand squeezed hers. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” But she took a big breath as they pulled in her driveway.

  Handing him the key, she waited for the familiar creak of the screened door and hesitated before taking that first step into the room. A chemical scent assailed her. Soap, bleach—it wasn’t unpleasant, but her house didn’t smell the same as it usually did. The smell of pine was present, too. Someone had cleaned the room. A knot formed in her stomach, and she shuddered. The room was the same, but different. Filled with the spirit of sadness. A spirit she hoped would pass.

  The only thing missing was the chair where Sam had been sitting when he pulled the trigger. She paused as she stared at the empty space, grateful it was gone. Otherwise it was home, her home; a home that had weathered a tragedy and survived.

  Brodie took her duffel and put it in her room. Rubbing his hands together, he raised his brows and stared into her eyes.

  “Would you like me to pour you a glass of wine before I leave?” he asked.
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  “That would be wonderful,” she said as she made herself comfortable on the sofa. Her gaze fixed on her beloved Bosendorfer. The beautiful ebony shone in the incandescent light of the room. It beckoned as a siren’s song, begging her to come and bring it to life with the touch of her fingers.

  Allison took three steps and was there; she could smell the lemon fragrance of the polish, feel the cool hardness of the wood as she ran her hand over its top. Lifting the cover, she let her fingers glide lightly down the keyboard. It welcomed her, her old friend, and asked her to sit and stay a while. She slid onto the bench.

  The music flowed from the depths of her soul, tentatively at first, then with confidence and familiarity. The lovely melody siphoned away all the agony, all the doubt. She leaned into the sound, letting it take control of her mind and imagination. A Chopin etude led into the grave movement of Beethoven’s Opus 13 and then finally into the piece that defined her, the “Moonlight Sonata.”

  How long she played, she couldn’t say, but the wine Brodie poured was room temperature, and he’d long ago fallen asleep listening to her play. She gently covered him with an afghan and tiptoed down the hall. The emotional confrontation with her piano had exhausted her.

  A fine sheen of perspiration covered her body, and she quickly showered and washed her hair. Crawling between the cool sheets of her own bed, she sighed, stretched, and relaxed.

  She was home. She was not afraid. There were no ghosts waiting for her here. She closed her eyes and slept.

  Epilogue

  Coda

  The majestic Alabama Theater, the old Grande Dame of the city, was decked out like a beautifully preserved queen. The marquee flashed the name of visiting artists, and Allison’s was right on top: Allison Chandler Presents a Holiday Benefit. They pulled up to the curb, and when she stepped out her gasp of pleasure warmed his heart.

  Seeing Allison’s name up in lights filled his heart to bursting with pride. He pulled her close and pressed a kiss on her shoulder. “You are an amazing woman, Allison Chandler.”