Redemption

by Carolyn Davidson

  “I WAS OUT OF LINE, JAKE. I’m sorry.” He thought for a moment that a tear glittered against her cheek, but she turned her head away. “I thought about this at school today, and realized I had no right to interfere the way I did. It was too late to stop Catherine and Toby from coming over, but it’s not too late to put a halt to the whole lesson notion.”

  He nodded an agreement as she glanced his way. “You’re right about one thing,” he told her. “To my way of thinking you were interfering in something you didn’t understand.”

  She frowned. “Maybe.”

  Making Alicia understand his feelings suddenly seemed important. “I don’t know if this will make sense to you,” he said. “In fact, I’m not sure anyone but Rena had any concept of what music meant in my life. When Rena married me she should have been the prime focus of my life. I should have set aside all else for her sake. But the music always came first when things were rolling with my job.”

  “You blame yourself for not paying enough attention to her, don’t you?” she asked.

  Jake shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s all of it. For some reason her death and the grief I felt turned me away from music. I’d been so wrapped up in my work I hadn’t been aware of how sick she really was at the end. If I hadn’t devoted myself to the schedule I was setting up for the coming year, if I’d been more available to Rena, things might have been different.”

  “Did she feel neglected?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t seem to, but Rena had taken second place her whole life. Even as a child, she was not the favored one. Then she devoted herself to me and I took advantage of her.”

  “So you punished yourself by turning away from music.”

  “I don’t think that’s altogether true. I just lost interest in it.”

  She pressed her lips together, refusing to offer a rebuttal.

  He spun his chair from her and approached the piano. His hands were not gentle as he closed the lid over the keys. “I can’t play. No matter what, I can’t put my fingers on those keys, ever again.”

  “No one has asked you to, have they?”

  You were born to make music. The words rang again in his mind. “I’m not sure,” he said quietly, dropping his head, feeling the pain of loss. Not so much for the woman he’d loved and then lost, although she had lent beauty to his work by her presence in his life. But for the threads of melody that wove his days and nights into a tapestry of brilliant hues—the music that spoke to his soul. The two were so closely interwoven it was difficult to separate them.

  He only knew that yesterday, in this room, he’d heard Rena speak to him. Alicia would surely think him mad if he told her. A thought struck him and he looked up at her. “Did you open the lid over the keys?”

  She shook her head. “I dusted the piano Saturday morning and wiped the keys with a damp cloth, but I haven’t touched it since.”

  “Not today, but yesterday,” he persisted.

  “No, Jake. I haven’t touched it. Did you ask Jason?”

  “He wouldn’t go near it. He knows better.” There was no getting around it. He’d have to tell her what happened and leave himself open to her scorn. “When I came back in here on Sunday, the lid was open. It hadn’t been lifted since I closed it after Rena’s funeral.” He hesitated and continued. She might as well know the whole foolish story.

  “I heard a voice, Alicia. I’d have sworn that someone was in the room with me.”

  She turned pale and bit at her lip, and he hesitated before he continued. “The voice said, ‘You were born to make music.’” He sighed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. “You’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”

  “No,” she said quietly. “I don’t believe in spirits haunting those they’ve left behind, but I wonder if some part of Rena isn’t still alive in your mind, Jake, and that part of her is able to communicate with you.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I feared telling you, lest you laugh.”

  “I wouldn’t do that. And if you’ll listen, I’d like to say something to you.”

  “Anything.”

  “When I went upstairs, to choose my bedroom…do you remember that day?”

  He nodded and she continued. “I heard a voice. Not an audible voice, but a whispering sound that I understood as well as if you had been standing there speaking to me.”

  “What did it say?” He felt his heart pump.

  “‘You’re going to be his wife, and you can do whatever you please in this house.’” She swallowed as if a lump threatened to choke her as she said the words aloud. “I swear to you, Jake. It happened.”

  He was silent, attempting to absorb her words. Then he nodded. “I believe you, Alicia. I don’t have the answers, but I think Rena would have wanted me to marry you. I also know she would never have wanted me to close up that piano the way I did. I can’t do the rest,” he said. “I don’t want to play, and I don’t have the heart to work with the opera house, but perhaps I can work with those two children.”

  She closed her eyes and he watched as tears spilled from beneath her lids and made silver trails down her cheeks. “Don’t cry, please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to make you unhappy.”

  “You haven’t!” she said. “I’m just so relieved to know that I didn’t botch things with my meddling.”

  “Don’t ask any more of me than this, Alicia,” he warned her. “I’ll do as you asked in this one thing. But don’t push me.”

  “All right,” she said, wiping her eyes with her fingertips.

  “Where’s your hankie?” he asked, then watched as she groped in her pocket for the white square of linen. “Shall I give you a hand with supper?”

  “I thought we’d make stew out of the leftover beef roast,” she said. “It won’t take long to prepare. I’ll just mix up biscuits and put them on top and then bake it while I set the table and—”

  He held up his hand. “Whoa,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll be thinking you’re entirely self-sufficient. I’m probably going to be organized to death. I don’t think you leave anything to chance, do you?”

  She blushed and shook her head. “I try not to, Jake. I’m used to a schedule. If I don’t stay up-to-date I lose track of my students. My life is too full not to be organized.”

  “I suspect I’ll get used to it,” he said, shaking his head. “Now, before you begin, why don’t you go up and change your clothes and get comfortable. I’ll cut up the meat for you and get things started best I can. Will that help?”

  She shot him a grateful look. “More than you know. I do like a man who’s at home in the kitchen.”

  “How many men have you liked, ma’am?” he asked smartly, and was gratified when she blushed anew.

  “None, to be honest,” she said. And then she left the room and he heard her feet touching the stairs as she climbed to the second floor.

  NONE, TO BE HONEST. Far from the truth, Alicia thought as she entered her bedroom. Indeed, up to this time she’d not felt desire for any particular man; but Jake was different. She’d felt drawn to him from the start, had known for the first time in her life the thrill of touching a man, even though that touch had not even been under romantic circumstances.

  Then, on their wedding day, his hands had been warm against her own, his lips had kissed her with tenderness, as though he had recognized her reticence. Little did Jake know how many times she’d replayed that kiss in her mind.

  He would never know, she determined. For she would lose his respect if he knew of her yearning to discover the textures of his skin, to feel his whiskers against her cheek, to hold his dark head against her breast.

  She changed her clothes, pulling an old housedress over her head, one that hung in a shapeless drape about her body. The mirror reflected her image and she frowned. There wasn’t much to work with, but she ought to at least make the most of what was available. With that thought in mind, she pulled off the dress and sought out another, a wrapper she’d first thought might be too intimate
a piece of apparel to wear in Jake’s presence.

  Brightly colored flowers dotted the fabric and tucks defined the bosom, and a sash fitted neatly around her middle. She looked again into the mirror; it would do. At least the colors brought new life to her skin, and for that she was grateful.

  He was in the kitchen when she went back downstairs, and she set to with a will, taking over the chore of putting a stew into the oven. It would be a simple meal, but Jake seemed happy with whatever she put before him. The man was easy to please…in some areas, at least.

  “When can I tell Toby and Catherine to return for lessons?” she asked lightly.

  “You kinda snuck that in, didn’t you?” he asked, and she turned her head to catch a grin on his face.

  “I’m not sneaky,” she protested. “I only want to know what to tell them.”

  His grin faded. “Have you any idea of the talent that boy holds in his hands?”

  She thought for a moment. “I know he seems to have perfect pitch. Sings like an angel, in fact. And his sense of rhythm is superb.”

  Jake nodded. “All of that is good to know. What I’m referring to is his gifted playing. He said he’d taken lessons from Mrs. Howard, but she was only willing to teach him hymns.”

  Real music, Toby had answered the question of what he preferred to play. As if Jake would surely understand his meaning, the boy had spoken the words with reverence. In so doing, little did Toby know he had won a place in Jake’s heart.

  “Hymns are fine,” Alicia said, interrupting Jake’s reflection.

  “Yes, they are,” Jake agreed. “I’m sure that Catherine will do well one day as a church pianist. She seems like a competent enough child. I’m sure she can learn to read notes without too much trouble.”

  “Your prejudice is showing,” Alicia said quietly as she stood at the table and prepared the dough for the biscuits.

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked Jake, when she was finished at the stovetop, leaving the stew to simmer.

  “If you’ll have some with me.”

  He was almost too agreeable, she decided, as if he wanted to keep this day on an even keel, as though he actually desired her company. For a man who’d said only yesterday that he needed his privacy, he was being downright gracious.

  “Have you made your list of rules for Jason yet?” he asked, and when she nodded, he went on. “Why don’t you tell me about it? We can talk to him after supper.”

  She sat across from him and folded her hands on the table. “First off, I think he needs to spend a little more time on his schoolwork. Jason is a very bright boy, but he tends to be lazy when it comes to learning. He doesn’t like the chore of writing out problems and solving them. He thinks if he knows the answer in his head, it’s a waste of time to work it out the long way.”

  Jake nodded. “Well, I think I tend to agree with him on that. I always found schoolwork to be tedious.”

  She frowned. “I can see that you’re not going to be much help.”

  “What else?” he asked, urging her on to the next issue.

  “You’ve already addressed the point of his messy behavior, tracking in dirt and such. I think he’s well aware that it will not be tolerated, especially since you spoke to him.”

  “Don’t tell me that’s the whole of it? I find it hard to believe that a list-maker like you will call it quits after two items.”

  “No,” she said. “Third is his religious education.” She raised a hand in protest to halt his automatic response. “Just listen to me, Jake. I understand that you won’t go with me to church, but I think Jason needs some background in that area.” Then she drove her message home. “I think his mother would agree if she could express an opinion.”

  It left him without a rebuttal, and that was what she had intended.

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for the rest of your list,” he said, his expression sour as if he’d eaten an unripe persimmon.

  “Well, you’re going to hear it, anyway,” she said, gaining confidence. “I want him to have daily chores, instead of running wild.”

  “He does chores,” Jake said defensively.

  “He does what needs to be done, only when the need becomes critical.”

  “He cleans his room.”

  She raised her brow in a cynical expression. “I know you haven’t had occasion to see his bedroom or you’d realize the humor of that remark.”

  “Boys aren’t much for housework.”

  “Neither are women who work at a profession for seven hours a day and then go home to a family that demands she tend to them.”

  He glared at her. “I didn’t realize we were so demanding of you.”

  Her shrug was a statement in itself. “You are. And that’s fine. I married you knowing that I would be called upon to do the very things I’m doing right now. I don’t mind cooking for you and cleaning up behind myself. I enjoy spending time with you and Jason, and I plan on keeping the yard and the house in order.”

  “That’s what a wife is expected to do,” he said sharply. “I thought it was understood between us that you were going to be a real wife.”

  She was silent, looking into his eyes with an unspoken message she feared he might decipher. “A real wife, Jake? Is that what I am?”

  His jaw set firmly and his gaze hardened. “Probably as real as it’s gonna get.”

  He spun his chair and went through the kitchen door.

  Her heart yearned for him, for the pain he felt and for her own aching need to be loved. She rose to the stove and checked the coffee. It was strong enough to suit her and she poured a cup and settled back at the table with it. She’d only taken one sip when he rolled through the door and faced her, a belligerent frown furrowing his brow.

  “You promised me a cup of coffee.”

  “So I did.” Retrieving a second cup from the buffet, she filled it and placed it before him. He’d made an effort, had done a turnabout, and she would not push him further today. It was apparent, however, that he was determined to have the last word, which gave her warning that he was willing to do battle if need be.

  TOBY APPEARED at the front door on Wednesday, and knocked with a subdued rapping sound. Jason swung the door wide and cheerfully invited the boy inside. “Is your pa in the parlor?” Toby asked, and Jake could not mistake the note of anticipation in his tone.

  “Yeah, he knows you’re comin’,” Jason replied. “Go on in.”

  Jake spoke up then. “Jason? I want you to do those problems Alicia gave you. Work at the kitchen table, if you please.” He’d determined to back her in this, even though he winced at Jason’s pain. But Alicia had specified a half hour a day must be spent on school-work. He owed it to her, had vowed to honor his commitment to keep Jason on the straight and narrow.

  Toby walked into the parlor, Jason standing behind him, wearing a frown. “Pa?” the boy asked. “Will you tell me when the half hour is over?”

  “I’ll send Toby to tell you,” Jake said agreeably, aware now only of the lad who watched him, whose eyes held a reverence he did not deserve.

  “Sir?” Toby said. “My mama said to give you this. She said it’s what Mrs. Howard charges, and if it’s more she’d make it up next time.” He held out a quarter in his hand, a princely sum for a half hour of Jake’s time. Then Jake thought of the money he’d earned by playing in concert halls in New York.

  Quite a comedown, one that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “That’s for a half hour,” Toby added. He waited for Jake to take the coin from his hand and his lip trembled. “If it isn’t enough I’ll go back home and she’ll give me some more.”

  Jake touched the boy’s hand quickly, picking up the coin with thumb and forefinger. “That’s exactly right,” he said quietly. “Let’s see what we can do for you,” he said, rolling his chair toward the piano.

  He lifted the lid gently, careful not to touch the keys. “Pull out the bench and sit down,” he told Toby, and waited until the boy did as he was to
ld.

  “Now, tell me what you know about the notes,” he said. “Show me where middle C is, Toby.”

  The boy pointed immediately to the correct key. “That’s easy,” he said, and released a sigh. “Mr. McPherson? Don’t you feel lucky to have this piano right here where you can see it all the time and play it whenever you want to?”

  “Lucky?” Jake repeated the word. “Maybe that’s a good word for it, Toby. In many ways I’ve been a lucky man.” Alicia. The first good thing that had come into his life in three years. “Lately I’ve been lucky,” he amended.

  The piano bench held music—sonatas, études, simple tunes he’d written for his own enjoyment—and he had a ream of paper with music staffs printed on it, ready to be filled with notes from his pen. He selected one of his own easily played melodies for Toby’s use today.

  “Let’s see how much you know,” he said, placing the sheet on the rack. “Can you read those notes?”

  Toby nodded. “I think so.” He played the melody readily with his right hand.

  “Now add the bass notes,” Jake told him. He leaned back in his chair as Toby followed his instructions.

  The boy looked at him. “I never heard that before. Does it have a name?”

  “No one but you and I have heard it, son. I wrote it.”

  Toby looked stunned, glancing back at the music, then again at Jake. “You can write real music?”

  “Is that what you call it?” Jake asked, amusement lightening the words.

  Toby nodded; his eyes lit with eagerness. “Will you play for me sometime?”

  “I don’t play anymore.” The words fell like rocks between them, heavy with the weight of Jake’s determination.

  “Never?” The boy looked down at the piano keys and touched one reverently. “How can you not want to make music?”

  “I DON’T KNOW IF I CAN do this.” Jake sat across the parlor from Alicia, the lamplight reflecting off her hair, lending it a richer chestnut hue than ever before.

  She looked up from her mending. Jason had torn out the knee in another pair of trousers and she was patching it neatly. Her fingers were agile as they plied the needle and he watched her, admiring the graceful movement of her hands.