by Lia London
Her mind flitted back to the top of Mt. Constitution. Had she really kissed a near stranger?
Had the way he kissed her back really wrecked her this much?
Had his words about vulnerability struck her even harder?
Parker stared at the yachts in the marina until they blurred behind a flood of tears.
Disaster #9 ~ Degrees
Chicken strips and a Coke from the market deli sufficed for a late lunch, and Parker chatted up the checker to find out how many famous people lived in the islands or frequented them regularly. She came away surprised by the networking potential hidden in the forested neighborhoods.
Wanting to keep stiffness from settling in her hip, she meandered casually through the boutiques and art galleries, stopping to admire the many distinctive styles all done by locals of the San Juan Islands. She rounded a display of wood carvings and stopped short at the sight of a glass bowl, blown with fluted edges and tinged with blue and black. It reminded her of moonlight on water, and an unfamiliar feeling of nostalgia squeezed more tears from her eyes. Impulsively, she picked it up and held it to the light, sure she could see two harbor seals diving beneath a skipping rock.
For the first time in her life, she made a purchase of something she didn’t need. Except maybe she did. One day the beauty of the piece might remind her of a perfect moment she had experience once on an island far from home.
A perfect moment she could never recreate on film because Guy wouldn’t be there to provide the magic.
Without fully appreciating why, she drove back out to Rosario in time for the concert and found the room filled almost to capacity. The front corner seat on the left side hadn’t been claimed, so she sat down, grateful no one would jostle her scrapes in this location.
Christopher Peacock entered with a flourish, like a grade-school teacher turned stand-up comedian. Parker smirked and settled back, appreciating the easy, spontaneous feel of his introduction. Years of working in the entertainment industry convinced her he was a highly polished performer. When he recounted the story of Rosario’s native ghost, she laughed aloud. A woman in a red nightgown on a motorcycle? If she ever made a movie of it, she’d cast Jill Ripley in the lead.
At last he settled onto the piano bench to play, and Parker relished the watery, lyrical music. After another piece and some more banter about architecture, Mr. Peacock excused himself and moved up to the mezzanine, explaining the organ itself was located directly above and behind them. He lowered a screen and invited them all to enjoy The Phantom of the Opera, the original black-and-white, silent version. As the flickering, melodramatic images played across the scene, Peacock narrated it musically with the most famous passages from the Andrew Lloyd Webber Broadway musical of the same name. The effect delighted Parker, and she felt herself slip back in time.
As the hour drew to a close, Mr. Peacock returned to the main floor and announced his final set. “Normally, this recital is piano and organ only, but occasionally, we bring in other musicians. Today, we are pleased to feature Guy Fox on the cello.”
Parker gasped and straightened in her chair as Guy entered, hefting a gleaming cello in one hand and the bow in the other. His grip on both was tight, and his eyes darted just above the faces in the crowd. He gave a shy bow to the audience and sat down in a chair someone had moved into place.
Mr. Peacock continued, “To add to your enjoyment, he has brought a cinematic display for you to watch. Most days, we feature photographs from Mr. Moran’s collection, but occasionally, we do wildlife photography or other presentations by local photographers. We hope you enjoy the Prelude in E Minor followed by an original piece by Mr. Fox entitled Unrequited.”
The mournful piano chords tiptoed around the room, urging the shadows to deepen and a melancholy mood to settle upon the audience. Closing his eyes, Guy lowered his head over the instrument. With exquisite gentleness, he drew the bow across the strings, lifting a haunting tone that pierced Parker with its intensity. She watched, transfixed, as he played with great expression. His fingers moved with strength and skill, as if making sweet love with each note. When the song faded, she marveled at how its simple melody could carve open her soul and expose her to so many raw emotions.
Guy began the original composition alone, and Parker felt the power of the music pulling her, and though she did not move a muscle, her being flew to him, wrapping him in her arms and feeling a warm, sad embrace in return. Tinkling arpeggios from the piano cascaded behind the rushing cry of a soul tormented by unrequited love, and Parker ached at the beauty.
When the last plucked string vibrated into silence, the room erupted with applause, and the man sitting next to her gushed, “Have you ever seen anything so moving?”
Parker blinked back more tears. “It was lovely.”
“The photography! He sure knows how to capture feelings in his pictures, doesn’t he?”
Parker stared with mute confusion. Photography? She jolted as the words of Mr. Peacock’s introduction registered in her mind. There had been a cinematic display going, and she had missed the whole thing, engrossed as she was by Guy’s music.
Parker looked over at the chair, but Guy was nowhere to be seen. She backed away, trying not to bump her arm against anyone as she pressed through the throng and ran down the steps and out the door. As she reached the parking lot, she saw his VW van pull out of the driveway and head up the hill.
With a heavy sigh, Parker trudged over to her car, feeling a smattering of raindrops splash her cheeks. Rain. She stared up at the dark clouds and grumbled. There would be no skipping rocks with harbor seals under the moonlight tonight.
Guy drove home as fast as he could. What had he been thinking? He fumbled the key in the lock, shaking with nerves and feeling like a complete idiot.
Inside, he slammed the door behind him. “She didn’t come.”
Booster lifted his head from a nap and seemed to assess Guy’s mood in an instant. He padded over and lifted his front paws onto Guy’s waist in a hug.
“Thanks, Boo.” Guy worked his way to the floor, maintaining the furry embrace. “Good dog.” He buried his face in Booster’s coat and breathed in the soothing scent. Booster licked any part of Guy he could reach with his velvety tongue as if to say, “There, there. It’ll be all right.”
Eventually, Guy took Booster’s head in his hands. “I survived it, though. I played in front of people. That’s three times now. I’m getting braver.”
Booster slurped Guy’s face from chin to forehead in one big swipe.
Guy grimaced. “Your praise is a little much, buddy.” He wiped his face with the back of his arm and stood up. “I need to take the cello back down to the lodge. Want to come in the van?”
Booster’s hind end wagged and enthusiastic Yes!
“I don’t want her to see me there, though. Can you not bark when we get there?”
With a sneeze, Booster declined to promise, but followed Guy without a leash out to the van.
As they wound their way down the narrow roads, Guy reflected on his performance. He had every reason to be pleased even if Parker hadn’t come. It had gone well.
His success teased him. Maybe he shouldn’t shy away from Parker if he bumped into her. Maybe he could offer her another tour of … something.
But no. She’d shown no interest.
Once on the lane with the cabins, Guy reminded Booster to be quiet as he rolled quietly past Parker’s bungalow. The curtains were drawn, so hopefully she would not notice him at all. He parked beside the lodge dumpster, and opened the side door to lift out the cello case.
“Be right back, buddy.” He tiptoed down into the cellar entrance of the lodge.
A moment later, back in the van, he readied himself to sneak past Parker’s cabin again. “Okay, Booster. Let’s go get some dinner.”
He started up the van.
“Booster?” Guy craned his neck over his shoulder and saw the side door open wide enough for the dog to escape. Cutting the engine with a fr
ustrated growl, he slid out of the front seat and ran his fingers through his hair. Where had his dog run off to explore? And could he call Booster back without alerting everyone on the lane to his presence?
“Boo!”
Parker lifted her face from the pillow and listened.
“Boo!”
“Oh, for the love of Scooby-Doo. Did the scary Rosario ghost follow me home?” She dropped her cheek down. Still lying on her stomach with her arms down, she moaned with self-pity. “I probably look like blue penguin roadkill.” She turned her face into the pillow. “I feel like blue penguin roadkill.”
“Boo!”
With an angry burst of energy, she jumped to her feet and stormed to the door, listening. “Quit playing games, whoever you are! I know this place isn’t haunted!” Silence, and then a scuffling noise followed. Irritated, she flung open the door.
Booster came scrambling around the side of the cabin and bounded past her, almost knocking her back inside.
Guy rounded the corner a second later. “Boo?” Their eyes met, and he grimaced. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. Boo got away from me.”
“Booster?” She felt a turmoil of conflicting emotions bubbling in her belly. He looked adorable, caught in the act of sneaking. But what was he doing here? Why was she glad?
“I don’t suppose he just came by here?” Guy straightened and bit his lip.
She jerked her head to indicate. “He’s lying on my bed as we speak.”
Guy’s face fell. “Oh great. It’ll be a muddy mess. I am so sorry.” He came forward as if to call Booster from the doorway, and Parker wrestled with her desire to invite him inside, so she wouldn’t be lonely and bored. But he wouldn’t want to come in after how she’d treated him. She watched him coaxing and cajoling, but Booster stubbornly remained planted on her bed.
“Wow, he really wants to stay,” she said with exaggerated resignation. “I guess you’ll have to come inside for a minute or two.”
He hesitated. “Really? You weren’t about to head out?”
She glanced down at the jacket she was still wearing. Falling asleep in a coat! She was really slipping. “I just got back,” she lied. “I’m going to close the door because it’s cold outside, so you can be on either side of it, as you prefer.”
His lips parted in a shy smile, and she tried not to look at them. The memory of the tower-top kiss goaded her, and she grabbed his arm to tug him inside.
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“No bother.”
“I just came by the lodge to drop off the cello.” His body language exuded dejection.
“You were great in the recital,” she said, tilting her head to make eye contact. “Even better live than listening from the beach.”
“Wait, you were there?” He looked genuinely surprised.
“I was in the front row.”
Guy’s whole expression brightened, and he stood straighter. “You were? I didn’t see you.”
Parker adopted her snarky director tone as she slid off the jacket. “Well, y’know … if you opened your eyes once in a while …”
“You came!” His arms went wide as if to hug her, but stopped in midair when she flinched. Dropping his hands to his side, he nodded. “Oh. Right. Forgot about your arm.”
Parker glanced numbly at her injured arm before tossing the jacket onto the bed beside Booster. Had she been afraid of physical hurt… or emotional?
“Anyway, thanks so much for coming.” Guy seemed to hold his breath, as if expecting yet fearing further commentary.
“You were very, very good.” Parker licked her lips as he stared at a painting on the wall. What might have happened if he’d hugged her? She glanced back, fidgeting with the zipper on her jacket, and cleared her throat. “So, I was kind of thinking about that kiss.”
“You were?” His eyes widened, and she felt an electricity fill the space between them.
Barely resisting the tug to move closer, she shrugged. “Yeah, and how it was weird and all.” Weird was the wrong word. She meant it had happened too fast, but she didn’t know how to pull the words back into her mouth.
“I …”
“Do you kiss strangers on a regular basis?”
He worked his jaw, as if trying to hold back a smile. “I don’t think of you as strange.”
Parker snorted. “Thanks.”
“Wait, that came out wrong.”
“I am strange?”
“Very!” He grasped her right arm. “But I feel as if I’ve known you for a long time.” His fingers slid down to her hand and clasped it. “Or I’d want to.”
Inexplicable joy tickled parts of Parker she had ignored for years, but she squashed them back down. This was no time to get hormonal. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said with a sassy pout. “Do you regularly kiss strangers? Am I one of many damsels in distress you—”
“No.” He hunched a little, so they stood almost eye-to-eye. “I don’t kiss the other ladies I rescue,” he said firmly.
Parker had half hoped he’d admit to being a cad, and then she could toss him aside without regrets, but she knew it wasn’t true. She allowed herself to inch closer even as she tried to rein in her attraction. “Good. I wouldn’t want to feel like it was just part of your regular customer service… as a local superhero and all.”
His grin disarmed her, and he cocked his head to one side. “The fact that most of the women are two or three times my age has nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, you!” Parker thumped his chest with a chortle, and the next thing she knew, he had pulled her into a gentle embrace, closing his mouth on hers in a velvet dream of tenderness. Curling her fingers into his damp hair, she pulled him to her, feeling she could never get enough of him, and his kisses obliged, filling her until she burst free with an exhilarated sigh.
His eyes took in her face, as if drinking in every inch of her skin. “Does this mean I’m not a stranger?”
“I don’t know why I can’t stop doing that!” she screeched, slapping the top of her head and stomping in a circle. “This is so not me!” Her head swam, and her feet could no longer feel the floor. She took a deep, calming breath. “I’m so sorry.”
“I started it this time,” said Guy. “I’m not complaining.”
Parker dared look at him again. His earnest gaze sent ripples of heat through her, and she needed to get herself under control. This whole kissing thing was completely ridiculous. “I keep sending such mixed signals. I’m not …” She covered her burning cheeks with her palms and tried to think clearly. “I’m not typically like this. I take a lot longer to feel comfortable, and …” She dropped her hands, backing away. “And there’s never enough time to get this far.”
“Oh?”
“I’m kind of out of shape, romantically speaking. I mean …” Ugh. She palmed her face. “It’s been a long time, and I don’t know …” Her voice trailed off and any logical reason why she shouldn’t kiss him melted into confusion. “I can’t think straight.”
Guy took a step back, his hands retreating once again to his pockets. “Oh.”
“I’m only here for a quick getaway, after all.”
“Right. I understand.” His gaze dropped to the floor, and his jaw tensed.
“I didn’t even want to come in the first place. The studio sort of forced it on me, and …” She searched his face for signs of anger or hurt, but saw only a resigned humility. “So.”
“So.”
Booster barked twice, startling Parker into a fit of nervous laughter. “Okay, dog. We hear you.”
Surely loneliness and beautiful music had transformed her into an emotional train wreck? How could this ever work? Did it have to? Couldn’t she just enjoy a fling?
Parker squeezed her eyes shut. No. She wasn’t cheap, and she could tell Guy wasn’t either. She needed to put on the brakes and think this through. Besides, how intimate could she get with a whole side of her body too tender to touch? The injuries were probably
a good thing. They’d keep her from behaving foolishly. She forced a smile. “Really, though … you play the cello so well. Your piece was so moving.”
Guy shifted. “Did you enjoy the movie, too? I’d appreciate your professional opinion.”
“It was hysterical. I loved it.”
He looked puzzled. “Hysterical?”
“Well, yes. So cheesy! I loved what Peacock did with it, though. The organ and all.”
Guy’s expression turned to one of relief. “I meant the movie at the end, while I played.”
Parker bit her lip. “I missed that.”
“What? How?”
“I was kind of watching you.”
His grin twisted to one side. “For two whole songs?”
The lilt of his warm voice sent Parker’s insides spinning, and she folded her arms across her chest to try to still her pounding heart. “You’re very compelling. You put a lot of yourself into the music.”
“Well, thank you very much,” he said with a courtly bow. “But I hoped you’d give me some critiques on the film. It was my final project.”
“For what?”
“My Fine Arts major. Art, mostly cinematography emphasis, with a music minor.”
“So, you did get a college degree?”
“Yes. A largely useless one. But I graduated summa cum laude, and I earned another degree for more practical purposes.”
Parker sank down onto the day bed, her mouth gaping. “Wait. You earned two degrees?”
“Two, yes. I told you earlier.”
She tilted her head, a new thought crossing her mind. “Why didn’t you stick around after the recital? I could have told you right then how great it was. And the people around me all loved it, too.”
His eyes darted to the ceiling. “I’m not a very social animal.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve been my social director since I got here.”
“Crowds. I don’t do crowds.”
“But you played at Rosario.”
“Hidden behind a cello and closed eyes, as you so aptly noted.”
