“Yeah, I think it is serious,” I finally answered. “At least, I think it’s headed that way.”
“You really care about him?”
“I do.”
“And he cares about you?”
“I think he does.”
“That’s good, Emma. It makes me happy to see you happy.”
A minute more and my phone rang. “Hey, Dad,” I answered.
“Hey. Are you with your mom?”
I filled him in on our whereabouts.
“My meeting just wrapped up,” he said. “I’ll be at the house when you get there.”
He was standing in the driveway when we pulled up, where, with the ease of experience and familiarity, he lifted Mom out of my car and carried her through the house and into the living room, where he situated her on the couch. Dad was always a pretty gentle guy, but there was a tenderness that surfaced whenever he was caring for my mom that hit me all the way down in my gut. Mom was lucky to have him. I was lucky. My parents were pretty incredible people.
“He looks like he’s done that a few times,” Elliott said.
I nodded. “Yeah. Even more lately. He’s worried about her. We all are.”
“So her fingers just stop working?” Elliott asked.
I motioned for him to follow me inside. “Some days they go completely numb; other days they just feel stiff—too stiff to bend or manipulate anything. She calls them her sausage fingers. It happens to her feet too.”
Elliott looked down at his hands. “I can’t imagine.”
“I know. I can’t either. Mom used to play the piano, actually, but . . . it’s been a few years since she could manage.”
Dad emerged from the hallway and crossed to where we still stood just inside the front door. He reached out and wrapped an arm around my shoulders in a half-hello-hug, then extended his hand to Elliott.
“Dad, this is Elliott Hart. Elliott, Jacob Hill.”
Dad nodded. “Thanks for your help today.” He looked in my direction. “Listen, you two want to stick around a while? I can order us something for dinner.”
“We already ate. Besides, do you really think Mom’s up for the company?”
He smirked. “I think now that you’ve finally brought Elliott over, she’ll be disappointed if you don’t stay. We’ll do dessert instead.”
“But she needs to rest, Dad. She was in a lot of pain today.” Also, Ava and I still want to kill each other.
“What she needs is to feel like life isn’t going on without her. We’ll keep things low key, let her take it easy, but I think she’d like you to stick around.”
“Where’s Ava?”
Dad gave me a pointed look and glanced at his watch. “On her way to church, I expect. She’ll be home in a couple hours.”
I looked at Elliott, eyebrows raised in question. He nodded. “Of course. I’d love to stay.”
Dad was right. Mom seemed genuinely happy to have us there, despite her confinement to the couch. After dessert, Elliott sat at the piano and entertained us with on-the-spot composing. He’d ask us to name a handful of notes and then write a melody around whatever we listed. We tried to make it hard on him. Mom and I had enough musical knowledge to pick notes we knew would sound awful together. But even the most inharmonious chords turned into something magical in his hands.
Dad watched from the kitchen, a dish towel flung over his shoulder. I moved to stand beside him, pulling the towel off and heading toward the kitchen. “Can I help you finish up?”
“There are just a few things left,” he said. “You can dry those plates and put them away if you like.”
We worked in silence a few moments until I caught Dad staring at me, his head cocked to the side and a weird, distant look on his face. I paused. “You okay, Dad?”
He smiled. “Sorry. I was just thinking about you.”
“What about me?”
“Just how grown up you are now. Seeing you with Elliott, thinking about you getting married . . .”
“Dad, marriage? I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”
“No, no, I know. I don’t necessarily mean to Elliott. Just in general. You’re all grown up, Emma. There’s a man in there, a full-size man with a job and a car and a life, and he’s falling in love with my baby girl. It just makes me feel old and . . . old.”
“It didn’t make you feel old when I got a job and a car and a life?”
“Of course it did. But this is another big step. I’m proud of you. Elliott seems like a good man.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I crossed the kitchen and gave him a hug. “Is Mom going to be okay?”
He sighed, his arms still wrapped around my shoulders. “I think so. I don’t think she’s ready to accept what this means.”
“The doctors told her last week she needed to mentally prepare herself for the idea of her wheelchair full-time, but they made it seem like it could still be a ways off.”
“I don’t think it’s a ways off at all,” Dad said. “I think we’re pretty much there. Otherwise, she’s going to end up hurting herself. What if she’d been halfway home when her feet had gone numb today? She can’t keep driving.”
“I’ll come over more,” I said. “I can shift some lessons around to free up a couple of afternoons, and I could probably make it over earlier in the mornings on Tuesdays and Fridays. Or”—I realized it was time to give voice to my earlier thought—“Dad, do you need me to move home? If I were here full-time, there would be so much more I could do to help.”
Dad took my chin in his hand and tilted my face upward. “Listen to my words, Emma Grace. If you move back into this house, your mother will never forgive herself. Do you understand me? It’s already killing her that you’re here as much as you are.”
“What do you mean? She’s not happy that I’m here?”
“She’s happy. She loves seeing so much of you. And she’s thrilled now that you’ve met Elliott because we both think this is a good thing between the two of you. But she knows you left Cleveland for her. And every time she hears you play, she berates herself for it—for the career you aren’t having because of your commitment to her.”
“I didn’t move because of Mom.”
Dad raised an eyebrow.
I glanced at the floor. “At least not completely. Besides, it’s been a good move for me. I’m okay. I’m happy. Mom doesn’t need to feel guilty.”
“It’s not guilt so much as it’s sadness over missed opportunity.”
“So no moving in?”
“No moving in,” Dad repeated. “Just as long as you’re minding your manners living across the hall from your boyfriend.”
“Dad. Seriously?”
Laughter echoed out of the living room, Mom’s voice loudest of all.
“Come on,” Dad said, giving me a playful nudge. “Let’s go see what’s so funny.”
Ten minutes later, Ava materialized in the hall, her bag and keys still clutched in her hands. Elliott’s hands fell from the piano, and an awkward silence filled the room.
“Hi,” I finally said.
“Ava, come in and meet Elliott,” Mom said from the couch. “He’s been playing for us, and it’s been so wonderful.”
“I’ve got homework.” Ava turned and walked in the opposite direction, disappearing down the hallway without a backward glance.
Mom sighed. “I’m sorry, Elliott. That was rude of her.”
“It’s my fault,” I said, standing up. “It’s me she’s trying to avoid, not him. I’ll go talk to her.”
Elliott reached out and squeezed my hand as I passed the piano.
I knocked on Ava’s door. “Hey. Can I come in?”
She didn’t answer, but I heard the lock click open. I figured that was as much of an invitation as I was going to get. I eased the door open. Ava was stretched across her bed, her biology textbook open in front of her.
“Can we talk a minute?” I asked.
She didn’t look up. “It’s not like I unlocked the
door so you could stare at me while I study the Krebs Cycle.”
“Ugh. Krebs Cycle. I remember.” I turned her desk chair around and sat.
“Actually, I really like it. It makes sense to me.” Her words were more defensive than they needed to be, like she felt she had to justify her enjoyment of science.
“You’ve got a better brain than me,” I told her. “I never could wrap my head around it.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Ava, come on. Can we please just talk?”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Of course there is. We can’t pretend like nothing happened here.”
“What do you want me to say? You want me to apologize? Fine. I’m sorry I tried to cheat.”
“It stinks that you did it, but I’m more concerned about why.”
“I already told you why. You’re the one choosing not to hear me.”
“I do hear you. You don’t want to play. But I think that’s probably my fault. I’ve been pushing too hard and pressuring you. I’m going to back off, but I can’t accept you just throwing all your talent away. I think you’ll regret it if you do.”
She didn’t look up from her book. In fact, she hadn’t looked me in the eye once since I’d entered the room.
“Ava, do you have any idea how talented you really are? You’re better than I was at your age. You’ve been given this amazing gift, and I just don’t understand why you don’t want to embrace it. So you like science too. What’s the big deal? Something like 30 percent of Ivy League medical students get their undergrad degree in music. You don’t have to pick one or the other.”
She finally dropped her pencil and looked up. “You say that, but you don’t mean it. Because people who do both can’t be the best at both. And that’s the thing with you, Em. There’s no acceptable standard but perfection. If you’re going to play, you’re going to be the best. And anything less will never be good enough. You’re trying to turn me into you, and you’re not hearing me. I don’t want it.”
I stood and walked to the door, afraid of what I might say if I hung out too much longer. “What I’m hearing is that you’re throwing away something amazing just to spite your sister. I’m sorry I’ve put pressure on you, but I’m not sorry I believe you’re capable of truly being extraordinary.”
“Then brace yourself because you’re going to be disappointed. And I’m not sorry about that.” She stood and crossed the room, nudging me into the hall before slamming the door in my face.
In the car on the way back to Asheville, Elliott stayed silent for quite some time, maybe sensing my frustration. Maybe just waiting for me to be ready to talk. He finally reached over and touched my knuckles, still white from the tension I held in my shoulders and hands, my fingers curled tightly into fists. “Ready to share?” he asked.
“I just get so frustrated with her,” I told him. “It feels like she’s rubbing it in my face, you know? Almost like she’s giving it up just so she doesn’t have to be like me.”
Elliott was quiet, which was a little unnerving. I wanted him to agree with me and validate how ridiculously stupid my sister was being. But he didn’t say anything at all.
Chapter 20
I stood in the middle of Asheville Mall and wished for a fairy godmother who could wave a magic wand and dress me for Grayson’s wedding. Though, to be real, Lilly wasn’t such a bad choice for a fairy godmother. She knew fashion. She’d also let me whine about my sister problems all the way through dinner. The least I could do was take her wardrobe advice. “Are you sure I can’t wear black?”
Lilly rolled her eyes. “You’re going to a wedding, not a funeral. Tell me again why we’re just now shopping for a dress?” She stared up at the mall directory.
“Because the dress I was going to wear is absolutely not worthy of a date like Elliott.”
“Which one? The pale green? With the little brown belt?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s pretty, but it doesn’t exactly say wow.”
“So that’s your only requirement?” Lilly said. “A dress that says wow?”
“If you’re not going to let me wear black.”
“Whatever. I’ve seen your closet, Em. You can’t pretend like you don’t care about fashion.”
“I care about practical, reusable, long-lasting fashion. I don’t know how to do fancy dresses unless I’m performing.”
“Fine, fine. I’ll have mercy on your pitiful soul.” She latched onto my arm. “Come on. I know just where to start.”
* * *
My faith in Lilly was not ill-placed. When I stood the following afternoon in front of the full-length mirror in my room, delicate folds of deep purple gathering around my waist, hugging my curves and flattering my figure in just the right way, I was sure I couldn’t have found a prettier dress had I tried on everything in the entire mall. Lilly had pulled my hair over to the side and pinned it up loosely, giving me an understated look that was elegant without being flashy. It was perfect.
I stepped into my shimmery silver peep-toe pumps and turned to face Lilly. “So I’m good?”
She smiled. “You look beautiful.”
Trav was in the kitchen when I passed through to the living room. “Wow. You look amazing.”
“Thank you very much.” I did a little spin.
“Geez, are you sure I can’t take you to the wedding?”
“Stop hitting on my roommate.” Lilly joined us in the kitchen. “She’ll never say yes, not when her date is way more attractive than you are.”
“Good thing your standards aren’t quite so high.” He wrapped his arms around her, and they kissed.
I moved into the living room just in time to hear a knock at the door. I swung it open to find Elliott wearing the light-gray suit I loved and a deep-purple tie. He looked amazing. And also a little stunned.
“Holy smokes,” he finally said. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” That compliment alone felt totally worth the price of the dress. “Shall we go?”
* * *
We pulled up to the front entrance of the Grove Park Inn just before seven. Valets lined the drive, waiting to assist wedding guests out of their cars and into the luxurious hotel. Elliott tossed the keys to the valet and joined me on the other side of the car, where he offered me his arm.
A couple standing outside the hotel pointed at Elliott, then turned to each other, the woman whispering something to the man. “Are you missing your hat and sunglasses?” I nudged him with my elbow as we followed the signs pointing us through the lobby to the Skyline Room, where the wedding was to be held.
“I considered wearing them but figured with you on my arm, no one’s going to pay me any attention.”
I blushed. “Did my mother pay you to say that?”
He nodded without skipping a beat. “She slipped a twenty in my pocket before we left your house on Wednesday. My delivery was good though, don’t you think? So perfectly timed I think maybe she owes me a tip.”
I laughed and earned a reproachful glance from a man looking very much like a stern butler, checking a list of names at the door of the Skyline Room.
“Name?” he asked with dour dignity.
“Emma Hill,” I said. “And guest.”
His pencil slid down the list with precision and purpose until it landed on my name. For a moment, I panicked, wondering if Grayson had forgotten to add me, but then the butler, who I decided I wanted to call Jeeves, made a tiny check mark with his pencil and motioned for us to enter the room.
Floor to ceiling windows surrounded the space, showing off incredible views of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The rich fall colors of the changing leaves were bright as the sun sank into the horizon. The outdoor terrace to the left of the room was set up for the reception and looked both elegant and magical all at the same time. Large swaths of fabric were elaborately draped from the pergola overhead and an abundance of greenery and flowers and tiny sparkly twinkle lights covered the tables and wrapped around
every exposed beam. The Rockwells hadn’t held anything back. When coupled with the natural impressiveness of the inn and the winding walkways and manicured gardens, it was a wedding you might expect to see photographed in the pages of a magazine.
I’d never dreamed of an elaborate wedding. My parents had once told me they could drop a fortune on an impressive venue and buy me a butter dish as a wedding gift or give me a reception in the church cultural hall and make my wedding gift the cash they would have spent on a fancy wedding. For me it was a no-brainer. I’d take cash over glamour any day. But in that beautiful room, wearing a beautiful dress, sitting next to a man who was, well, yes, even he was looking pretty beautiful, it was hard to resist the pull.
I distracted myself from my worsening case of bride envy by scanning the faces in the crowd and wondering who I might recognize. I saw Grayson’s parents sitting on the front row and his aunt Pam right behind them with her husband. Bruno was two rows ahead of me with his wife, and just beyond him sat several friends from high school, who waved when they caught my eye. They held my gaze a moment longer, looking pointedly from me to Elliott, then back to me again. If Elliott noticed, he didn’t acknowledge it, and I wondered if that was something he’d had to practice: how to function normally, as if no one was staring at him, when half the people in the room actually were.
He leaned over. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Of course.”
“I just did a pretty thorough examination of everyone here, and I’m ready to declare a winner.”
“A winner?”
“You are the winner. Without a doubt, you’re the most beautiful woman in this entire room.”
I smiled a little half smile. “Well, the bride isn’t here yet. I’m pretty sure she’ll be the most beautiful woman in the room.”
A hush fell over the crowd as Grayson walked down the aisle and took his place in front of the pastor at the head of the room. A moment later, the first strains of “Pachelbel’s Canon” filled the space, and every head turned.
Love at First Note Page 18
