by Theresa Weir
A beautiful violin.
She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth, staring, just staring. Finally, she lifted the violin free. It was made of maple and ebony, so polished she could almost see herself. She turned it in her hands. On the back was a small gold plaque. Inscribed on the plaque was her name.
This was what he’d been making. This was the instrument he couldn’t tell her about.
She set the violin aside and removed the bow from the lid, tightening the horsehair strings. Through a blur of tears, she sniffled and muttered: “Asshole.” Then she picked up the violin, tucked it under her chin, and placed the bow against the strings…first a tentative test, then a long stroke, and finally a song.
The tone was unbelievable, aching and sweet and clear and real. When she finished one song she began another until a pounding from beneath her brought her performance to an abrupt halt.
“Sorry!” she shouted to the woman named Ellie who lived in the apartment below. She put aside the bow to cradle the violin, to stroke her fingers down the smooth finish, to admire the beautiful curve of the neck.
Her dad had been right about Emerson. He was a genius when it came to instruments. And this one…it was like he’d poured everything into it. Kinda like it had been made with love. Now, regardless of what he’d told her in the park, she knew without question or doubt that the real Emerson was this guy.
The guy who’d made the violin.
And this guy was the guy she loved, and this guy was a guy worth fighting for. And if at times the other Emerson surfaced, she would deal with him. She would chase the imposter away and coax back the real Emerson.
Suddenly she could see everything clearly. She’d allowed her creepy ex-boyfriend to create a warped version of herself, and she’d allowed that to impact her chances of future happiness. Emerson wasn’t Milton. And she wasn’t the person left in the wake of Milton’s betrayal and deceit. She had to let go of the bitter, hurt, and suspicious Lola.
With a light heart, she put the violin back in the case, stuck her feet into her pink fuzzy slippers, grabbed her keys, and headed for her car.
Emerson
Chapter 23
Under normal angst-filled conditions, Emerson wouldn’t have been able to sleep after dropping off the violin at Lola’s, but he’d hardly slept for two days. He’d been hell-bent on finishing the instrument, using pots of coffee and Red Bull to stay awake, falling asleep in Les Ray’s shop, the violin on the table in front of him, only to wake with a jerk to continue working. And now that the violin was gone it would either bring closure and an end to Lola, or it would tell her everything he couldn’t tell her himself.
Whatever happened, it was out of his hands. He’d done all he could do, and he was now stupified by mind-numbing fatigue. In the silent house, with no roommate around, he crashed as soon as he fell into bed. When the sweet strains of a violin crept into his dreamscape, he figured the sound was part of the dream, but he gradually began to sense that the music was coming from somewhere outside his head. He woke with a start and lay there staring at the ceiling, listening. At the foot of the bed, Sam the cat was purring, adding to the weird magic of the moment.
He recognized that tone of bow on string. He’d know it anywhere even though it hadn’t sounded anything like that when he’d played it.
The song? Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”.
He was almost afraid to move because it was so beautifully surreal, the room foggy with filtered light cutting in from the street. He tossed back the covers and walked to the open window, the coolness of the night drifting in.
There in the middle of the sidewalk, dressed in pajama pants, a T-shirt, and pink fuzzy slippers, was Lola. Standing under the streetlamp, her arms covered in beautiful tattoos, an ethereal look on her face, eyes closed, playing the violin he’d made her for.
“Play Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes’,” somebody shouted from a dark house. That request was followed by much laughter.
“‘Dust in the Wind’,” somebody else contributed.
The bow squeaked against the strings and Lola removed the violin from under her chin and began walking toward Emerson’s house, toward the front door.
He froze with both hands braced on the sill. Oh, shit.
Standing below the window, she looked up at him. “I wanted you to hear what it sounded like. What it could sound like.”
He couldn’t blow this. He knew he couldn’t blow this. “Do you want to come in?”
“Yes.”
Somebody in the dark house clapped as Emerson scrambled away from the window. Barefoot, wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts, he met Lola at the door, closing it behind her.
Maybe it was his exhaustion, maybe it was the weirdness of the encounter and the darkness of the space, maybe it was the cat upstairs, but he found words coming out of his mouth, and he wasn’t shaking.
“Your hair is wet,” he said. Without conscious thought, he moved a strand behind her shoulder. “And your shirt is wet. And your skin is cold.”
“I forgot my jacket.”
He lifted the violin away so he could free one of her hands, linking his fingers with hers. “Come upstairs.”
In his room, Emerson put the violin and bow aside, then he tugged Lola down into bed with him, pulling the covers over both of them, rubbing her arms, throwing a leg around her, trying to warm her up.
“The song was beautiful,” he whispered.
“The violin is beautiful.”
“I was happy with the way it turned out. Les called it magic.”
“A guy doesn’t make a violin for a girl he doesn’t like,” she said quietly.
“The truth? I’ve liked you for years.”
He heard a thud as Sam jumped to the floor and left the room. Polite cat.
Emerson’s arms tightened around Lola and he pulled her closer, his warm lips finding her cold ones.
“You taste like chocolate,” he said.
“Sorry.”
“I like it.”
In his head, the words that came to him were ones too new to speak. Words of love that he’d save for later…
a cat named Sam
Chapter 24
Sometimes I see Emerson giving me that look where his eyebrows are drawn together and he wonders… It’s always those special moments when he’s said something particularly charming and funny, and Lola has laughed and thrown herself into his arms.
Now we’re at Lola’s, and Emerson is swirling her around and her feet are off the ground and I see Emerson look over her shoulder at me. And I recognize the look. Not the look of terror I used to get from owners one, two, and three because I know I’ve found my forever owner and that Emerson adores me, but he wonders if I’m mindmessing with him, if I’m the reason Lola just threw herself into his arms.
It’s times like these I wish I could talk and wish I could communicate, because I’d like to tell him the charm and sweetness is all him. Because let’s face it, if I were putting words in his head they would have a sarcastic edge, although I have to admit that living with Emerson has softened me. I’d like to see him take credit for himself, and I’d like to never see doubt cross his face, but in time he’ll get over it.
Do I still mess with him?
It’s hard to go cold turkey, and deep down I worry that I might get rusty if I stop completely. What if I really need my skills and find they’re gone? So yeah, I still practice a bit. If Emerson is going to the store I might suggest tuna cat food instead of chicken.
And his roommate, Chris? Is he an easy target. Litter box duty for him. But my biggest accomplishment? Mindmessing him into washing the windows. Now I can sit on the sill of Emerson’s room without missing any action down below.
But I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be in the duplex. There’s been some talk of the three of us—Lola, Emerson, and me—finding our own place together, which I quite like the sound of.
Someone knocks on the apartment door and Lola answers.
Melody, her sister. Nice girl. Kind of ditzy. She’s here to talk about the animal-shelter fundraiser the three of them are working on, and now I notice something in her hand—a pink pet carrier. From inside, a cat meows.
Cripes.
“You brought Max!” Lola says.
I have to admit I feel a little jealous at the tone of affection in sweet Lola’s voice. I like being the star of the room and of all hearts, and I don’t want another cat around.
Melody puts the carrier on the floor, opens the door, and a black-and-white cat with a black mustache struts out. And damn if he isn’t too cool for the room.
I hate him.
I hiss, raise the hair on my back, walk up to him with a sideways jump, and bop him in the face. Then I run away. Fast.
He comes after me like a cheetah bringing down a gazelle, and I hit the floor. People are screaming and fur is flying and the new guy and I are yowling as hands grab, trying to break us up.
And then I catch a whiff of something. You know how smells are time machines that take you back? My vision kind of telescopes inward and outward, back to the old days when all I knew was my mum and my brother and sister, back when we were just kids.
I stop my attack and just hold my paw against this new guy’s chest. He’s staring at me, ears flat, pupils dilated. Then his pupils gradually shrink, I drop my defensive paw, and he sits down to watch me. And I know this is my long-lost brother.
Max. That suits him.
“I’m so sorry!” Melody says.
She starts to pick up Max, but Emerson stops her. “I think they’re okay now.”
I think he’s right.
To demonstrate just how okay, I turn my back on the newcomer and jump on the couch and begin to nonchalantly groom myself. No big.
Although the cool customer is my long-lost brother, this kind of thing has to be taken slow, even with family.
Max saunters toward me, jumps on the couch in one graceful motion that I can only envy, and plops down on the opposite end and does that half-closed eyes thing that makes a cat look like he’s smiling.
I do it back.
Life is good.
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Have a hankering to read Girl with the Cat Tattoo?
Or how about Come As You Are, a dark contemporary new adult romance set in the Twin Cities with characters who work at Mean Waitress?
These books, along with other Weir and Frasier titles, can be purchased through most online vendors.
For more information, visit Theresa’s website.
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XO
Belfry Press
About the Author
Theresa Weir (a.k.a. Anne Frasier) is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of twenty-four books and numerous short stories that have spanned the genres of suspense, mystery, thriller, romantic suspense, paranormal, fantasy, and memoir. During her award-winning career, she’s written for Penguin Putnam, Simon & Schuster, HarperCollins Publishers, Bantam Books/Random House, Silhouette Books, Grand Central Publishing/Hachette, and Amazon’s Thomas & Mercer. Her titles have been printed in both hardcover and paperback and translated into twenty languages.
Her first memoir, THE ORCHARD, was a 2011 Oprah Magazine Fall Pick, Number Two on the Indie Next list, a featured B+ review in Entertainment Weekly, and a Librarians’ Best Books of 2011. Her second memoir, THE MAN WHO LEFT, was a New York Times Bestseller. Going back to 1988, Weir’s debut title was the cult phenomenon AMAZON LILY, initially published by Pocket Books and later reissued by Bantam Books. Writing as Theresa Weir, she won a RITA for romantic suspense (COOL SHADE), and a year later the Daphne du Maurier for paranormal romance (BAD KARMA). In her more recent Anne Frasier career, her thriller and suspense titles hit the USA Today list (HUSH, SLEEP TIGHT, PLAY DEAD) and were featured in Mystery Guild, Literary Guild, and Book of the Month Club. HUSH was both a RITA and Daphne du Maurier finalist. Well-known in the mystery community, she served as hardcover judge for the Thriller presented by International Thriller Writers, and was guest of honor at the Diversicon 16 mystery/science fiction conference held in Minneapolis in 2008. Frasier books have received high praise from print publications such as Publishers Weekly, Minneapolis Star Tribune, and Crimespree, as well as online praise from Spinetingler, Book Loons, Armchair Interviews, Sarah Weinman’s Confessions of an Idiosyncratic Mind, and Ali Karim’s Shots Magazine. Her books have featured cover quotes from Lisa Gardner, Jane Ann Krentz, Linda Howard, Kay Hooper, and J.A. Konrath. Her short stories and poetry can be found in DISCOUNT NOIR, ONCE UPON A CRIME, and THE LINEUP, POEMS ON CRIME. She is a member of Sisters in Crime and International Thriller Writers.
The Orchard
An Oprah Magazine Fall Pick
Featured B+ Review in Entertainment Weekly
Number Two on October Indie Next List
BJ’s Book Club Spotlight
LIbrarians’ Best Books of 2011
Maclean’s Top Books of 2011
On Point (NPR) Best Books of 2011
Abrams Best of 2011
Publishers Lunch (Publishers Weekly) Favorite Books of 2011
Eighth Annual One Book, One Community 2012, Excelsior, Minnesota
Target Book Club Pick, September 2012
Title List
Writing as Anne Frasier
Hush, USA Today bestseller, RITA finalist, Daphne du Maurier finalist (2002)
Sleep Tight, USA Today bestseller (2003)
Play Dead, USA Today bestseller (2004)
Before I Wake (2005)
Pale Immortal (2006)
Garden of Darkness, RITA finalist (2007)
Once Upon a Crime anthology, Santa’s Little Helper (2009)
The Lineup, Poems on Crime, Home (2010)
Discount Noir anthology, Crack House (2010)
Deadly Treats Halloween anthology, editor and contributor, The Replacement (September 2011)
Once Upon a Crime anthology, Red Cadillac (April 2012)
Woman in a Black Veil (July 2012)
Dark: Volume 1 (short stories, July 2012)
Dark: Volume 2 (short stories, July 2012)
Black Tupelo (short-story collection July 2012)
Girls from the North Country (short story, August 2012)
Made of Stars (short story, August 2012)
Stars (short story collection, August 2012)
Stay Dead (April 2014)
Writing as Theresa Weir
The Forever Man (1988)
Amazon Lily, RITA finalist, Best New Adventure Writer award, Romantic Times (1988)
Loving Jenny (1989)
Pictures of Emily (1990)
Iguana Bay (1990)
Forever (1991)
Last Summer (1992)
One Fine Day (1994)
Long Night Moon, Reviewer’s Choice Award, Romantic Times (1995)
American Dreamer (1997)
Some Kind of Magic (1998)
Cool Shade RITA winner, romantic suspense (1998)
Bad Karma, Daphne du Maurier award, paranormal (1999)
Max Under the Stars, short story (2010)
The Orchard, a memoir (September 2011)
The Man Who Left , a memoir and New York Times bestseller (April 2012)
The Girl with the Cat Tattoo (June 2012)
Come As You Are (October 2013)
The Geek with the Cat Tattoo (December 2013)
om.Net
