by Karis Walsh
“What’s up?” she asked, keeping her gaze focused on Brooke’s eyes and not letting it drop any lower.
“I noticed you don’t have anything scheduled on your calendar for Sunday night.”
“Nope,” Andy said with a grin. “No concerts, no weddings, nothing.”
“I need to get out of this apartment. Can I kidnap you?”
“Of course. Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. Be ready to leave at five, and dress warm.”
Andy didn’t normally like surprises, preferring to be prepared before she went anywhere, but this was the first time Brooke had offered to plan one of their dates. Andy was curious to find out what she would pick for them to do. No amount of cajoling or threatening could make Brooke give up her secret, so Andy took her cue from Brooke’s clothes and came out of her room a little before five wearing jeans and a polo shirt with a bulky sweater over it.
Brooke drove, taking I-5 out of Seattle and heading south to the small town of Kent. While they drove, Andy listened to Brooke’s account of her latest interviews. The number of people looking for work meant employers could be choosy, and Brooke’s meager experience didn’t make her a prime candidate. Her search was discouraging, but Brooke made all of their meals and insisted she buy the food as well. Andy would gladly have accepted just her cooking skills, but Brooke felt better if she was contributing more. Plus, it eased the pressure of the job hunt, giving her a chance to find work she would enjoy.
When they pulled into a parking stall at ShoWare Center, Andy looked around and then back at Brooke, her eyes reflecting her confusion.
“We’re going to see a hockey game?” she asked.
Brooke laughed at her expression. “Yes. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
She pulled a reluctant Andy along with her as they joined the crowd entering the arena and stopped at a concession stand. Brooke ordered a couple of beers apiece and a huge bag of popcorn.
“Do you want a jersey, or one of those foam fingers?” Brooke asked.
“Thanks, but I’m good,” Andy said, surprised to see Brooke so at home among the rowdy fans.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” Brooke said as she led the way to their seats in the first row.
“Wow, we’re really close,” Andy said, peering through the Plexiglas at the smooth ice.
“I know. Great seats, aren’t they?” Brooke agreed enthusiastically.
“If you say so.”
Brooke handed her a beer and the bag of popcorn. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a hockey game before.”
“Never,” Andy said. She usually found team sports too chaotic to watch or play. “I did see that movie about us beating the Russians in the Olympics, though.”
“Then you’ll love this.”
“Yeah, it’s practically the same thing. Seattle versus Portland is just like watching the United States playing against Russia during the Cold War.”
Brooke punched her in the arm. “This is a serious rivalry, you know.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t aware the honor of my city was at stake. If I had been apprised of the gravity of this situation, I would have taken you up on the offer of a foam finger.”
“I should buy one and make you wear it to pay for that sarcasm. Hockey is no joking matter to me. I used to play on a team, so I know how important these games are.”
“You. Played. Hockey.” Andy shook her head in disbelief. All the time they had known each other, Brooke had been in turmoil. Andy realized she was getting a peek at the real Brooke, the one she’d be after her life settled again. And she liked what she saw—she liked the fire, the passion, the hint of aggression.
“I played until junior high. Then my mom decided it wasn’t ladylike enough, so I had to take ballet instead. I didn’t understand why she thought it was just a sport for boys when I was in an all-girl league, but she found it rather horrifying to watch me play.”
“I can picture you tearing around out there, whacking at other kids with your stick. And your poor mom, watching her budding lesbian roughhousing on the ice.”
Brooke laughed. “At the time I didn’t realize I was a budding anything. But I did have a huge crush on my coach. I always volunteered to help with the equipment so I could be near her. Maybe I should have recognized the signs back then.”
“But they were so subtle, who could have guessed?” Andy asked with a laugh. “What did your dad think of your hockey playing?”
“He loved it. He’d go to my games and scream at the refs and the coach so much that it was surprising he didn’t get kicked out. We used to come watch the Thunderbirds together sometimes. I saw the Spokane Chiefs play a couple of games when I was at Gonzaga, but I haven’t been to a game since then.”
“I’m glad you brought me,” Andy said honestly. Not necessarily because of the game, but because she liked to see Brooke having fun. She worried sometimes that Brooke had been more focused on what she needed to do—find a job, pay her share, make choices—than on what she wanted. But now, Brooke was smiling and leaning on the armrest between them so her shoulder and arm were pressed against Andy’s. She could put up with watching men skate around with sticks for a couple of hours as long as Brooke stayed close.
Andy ended up enjoying the evening more than she had anticipated, however. Brooke’s excitement was infectious, and although Andy didn’t share her tendency to yell at the players and referees, she found herself rooting for the Thunderbirds along with the crowd. Brooke explained the rules, which didn’t seem too complicated, so it was easy enough for her to follow the game.
She almost dropped her beer the first time two players slammed against the Plexiglas right in front of them, but after a few times she got used to it.
“Cool, huh?” Brooke said with a grin when a member of the opposing team was smashed into the wall like a bug.
“God, who are you?” Andy asked in amazement.
“So I like sports. The subject just hasn’t come up before.”
“Well, I have to admit this new side of you is weirdly sexy.”
Brooke pressed closer. “You think so?” she asked before turning her attention back to the game and booing with the crowd when the referee sent one of their players to the penalty box.
Andy laughed, distracted by Brooke until the Plexiglas rattled again, startling her enough to make her drop some popcorn. “I think that number twelve guy likes you. That’s the third time he’s hit the wall in front of us.”
“I thought he was flirting with you,” Brooke countered. “I swear I saw him grin at you.”
“Was that a grin or a grimace of pain?”
Two hours seemed like a long time to score a measly three points, but at least the home team won. She and Brooke filed out with the boisterous fans and got into Brooke’s car. Before Brooke could start the engine, Andy leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. This definitely qualified as a date, and while Brooke might have asked her out this time, Andy couldn’t wait for her to make the first move.
“Thank you for tonight. I had fun.”
“Good. I’ll get us tickets for another game,” Brooke said, kissing Andy again before she could protest. This kiss lasted longer than the first, and Brooke reluctantly withdrew her fingers from Andy’s hair and sat back. She’d originally asked Andy to the game because she didn’t want to go alone, even though she’d guessed it wasn’t something Andy would normally choose to do. She had hoped Andy would be a good sport and not sulk about her choice of activity, but she hadn’t expected Andy to show so much interest—not necessarily in hockey but in Brooke, in her passions and her childhood.
Andy smiled at her. “If this is how every game is going to end for us, I’ll buy season tickets.”
Chapter Sixteen
Andy came home from teaching to find Brooke at her dining room table, typing rapidly on her laptop. “Any calls?” she asked. Brooke didn’t turn around, so Andy walked over and tapped her on the shoulder.
Brooke jumped and pu
lled out the earbuds she had been wearing. “You scared me,” she said accusingly.
“Sorry, I just wanted to know if anyone called,” Andy said.
“Richard. He’s booked two more weddings,” Brooke answered, handing Andy a piece of paper with the information scrawled on it.
“Thanks,” Andy said, her glance taking in the tables and bulleted lists on Brooke’s screen and the psychology reference books next to her. “What are you writing?”
“It’s my new job,” Brooke answered, a hint of pride in her voice. “I’m doing transcription work for some of the doctors in Jonas’s office. He brought it over today.”
“You don’t mind doing it?” Andy asked. She knew Brooke hated not working, even though her job search and cooking added up to a full-time job.
Brooke shrugged. “It’s pretty simple and kind of fun. They record their notes, and I listen and type them out. I can work at home, on my own time, so I can keep looking for what I want as a career. After all those years of therapy I’m familiar with most of the terminology, so at least I’m getting some good out of that experience.”
“Well, I’m glad for you,” Andy said, her hand just brushing Brooke’s shoulder. She didn’t know how she could be so hurt by this woman and yet be so relieved to see her happy.
“You don’t mind that I borrowed your laptop?”
“Of course not,” Andy said absently as she tried to read Richard’s message. “They’re lucky you’re not doing that longhand, or they’d never decipher it. Is this woman named Dollie?”
Brooke glanced at the note. “Debbie.”
“Okay. And this one wants us to play a song called ‘Furbise’?”
“‘Fur Elise,’ by Beethoven,” Brooke said indignantly, snatching the note from Andy and scrawling two words across the page. “Can you read that?”
Andy laughed and ruffled Brooke’s hair. “That one is pretty clear. Same to you, by the way.”
“You also got a call from a woman in the symphony’s education department,” Brooke said as Andy headed into her music room to call her brides.
“What’d she say?” Andy asked, hesitating in the doorway.
“She said you can invite students or friends to the rehearsal for this concert. They’re having a short lecture about Bach and the Brandenburg Concertos.”
“Well, thanks. I’ll let my students know.”
“I want to go.”
“I already got you a ticket to go to the concert, Brooke. It’ll be the same music and the same lecture beforehand if you want to hear it.”
Brooke crossed her arms and frowned. “I’d like to go. It’ll be interesting to see you at work.”
Andy frowned back. “Whatever,” she said crossly and shut herself in the music room. She wouldn’t admit to Brooke that she was afraid of making a fool of herself onstage. They were performing the sixth Brandenburg Concerto as a small ensemble piece, and Andy would have significant solo parts with only a handful of other instruments playing alongside her. At the concert, she might be able to get away with a small mistake here or there and the audience probably wouldn’t notice, but at the dress rehearsal the conductor would be ready to call her out for any tiny error. The thought of Brooke sitting in the audience while she butchered her first solo part as principal viola made her want to throw up. She could try to talk her out of going, but she knew a losing battle when she saw one. Besides, Brooke had probably already signed herself up.
*
“Aren’t you ready yet?” Andy called, banging on the bathroom door. Brooke swung the door open calmly and walked out, a subtle cloud of perfume floating after her.
“You said we don’t need to be there for another hour,” Brooke said as she slipped into her shoes and then gestured at her outfit. “Is this appropriate?”
“You look beautiful,” Andy said simply, too wound up to prevaricate. “I love you in that color.”
Brooke mumbled a thank you, turning away from Andy’s gaze to put on a jacket over her navy dress shirt and gray slacks.
Andy led the way out of the apartment, stopping in frustration when she noticed that Brooke wasn’t following her.
“Now what? Don’t tell me you need to check your hair again.”
Brooke looked surprised by Andy’s sharp tone. “I may not have your years of musical experience, but isn’t it common practice to bring your instrument when you’re going to play in a concert?”
“Sorry,” Andy muttered as she stomped into the music room for her viola. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Brooke replied smoothly. “But I think I should drive us there.”
Andy didn’t argue with that one, and she sat in the passenger seat and fidgeted until Brooke reached over and grabbed her hand.
“You’ll be great,” she said, giving Andy’s hand a squeeze. “You’ve practiced the hell out of that piece. And I’ve heard it so many times I’ll be able to hum it for you if you lose your place.”
Andy smiled briefly and cradled Brooke’s hand in her lap, their fingers twining together. “Thanks. I guess I’m glad you forced me to bring you tonight.”
“Smart ass,” Brooke said.
“Nice ass,” Andy mumbled, turning to look out her side window with a more relaxed grin.
Brooke parked in Benaroya’s garage, and Andy walked her to the lecture room. Brooke gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before she headed backstage.
“You’ll be fine,” she whispered, but Andy didn’t look convinced.
Brooke settled in with the mix of adults and younger students and listened to the lecture that touched the baroque era, Bach’s life, and the music they were going to hear. The lecturer talked about the varied groupings of instruments that had been used in the past to perform each concerto, and he explained how the conductor had chosen the ensembles for this performance. It was interesting enough to keep her from worrying excessively about Andy, and she was a bit surprised that the time to file into the main hall came so quickly. Once seated there, however, she felt as tense as if she were about to perform herself. She didn’t know how Andy could stand waiting until the end of the program for her concerto.
Unlike other concerts Brooke had attended, this was a working rehearsal, and the conductor occasionally stopped the performance to make some changes or had the orchestra play passages over again to correct timing or dynamics. Each concerto had a different number and grouping of instruments, and several featured one or more soloists. She watched, mesmerized, as Andy played through three of the concertos, from the first with its strings, woodwinds, and horns, to the third with only a small string section and harpsichord. During the brief intermission, the conductor reworked a section of the second concerto, drilling the four soloists on their entrances. The violinist was a stunning blonde who played with a relaxed confidence. Brooke didn’t need to look in her program to know that this must be Lyssa Carlyle, Andy’s “sort of” girlfriend. She tried to ignore the stab of jealousy she felt when Andy joined in the applause after Lyssa played.
She had to suffer through more of Lyssa’s flawless playing since the fourth and fifth concertos featured the violin as well, first with two recorders then with a flute and harpsichord. Finally it was Andy’s turn, and Brooke felt a rush of excitement as she rose and joined a small group of musicians at the front of the stage. There were only two violas, a cello, and a bass, plus two period instruments that Brooke recognized as violas de gamba, thanks to the lecture. There was an air of professional aloofness about Andy that seemed foreign to Brooke, but once she started to play, she turned back into the Andy she knew. Her expression and posture softened as she launched into the ornate first measures of the piece, and Brooke relaxed with her as the viola’s deep voice sang out the notes she had heard coming from the music room so many times. All too soon she was clapping loudly with the rest of the audience.
Once the final concerto was finished, Andy returned to her seat, and the conductor gave the players a few final notes before they started to pack their instru
ments away. Brooke joined some other audience members who were climbing onto the stage to visit with various players. She was heading toward Andy, who waved her over while she was chatting with another violist, when a woman called her name.
“Cindy, hi,” Brooke greeted the tall woman. If she had managed to drag her eyes off Andy and Lyssa this evening, she would have noticed her friend on stage. “I forgot you played with the symphony.”
“Flute,” the woman said, holding up a small black case as proof. “Did you enjoy the concert?”
“Very much,” Brooke said.
“We missed you at book club this month.”
“Oh, you know how it is,” Brooke said evasively. Cindy was the only person from her guest list she’d seen since cancelling the wedding. She wondered if there was some rule of etiquette about which of them should bring up the awkward subject first.
“I’m sorry about you and Jake,” Cindy said. She paused, but Brooke didn’t offer more than a polite smile. “So, who do you know in the orchestra?”
“Oh, um, Andy Taylor is a friend of mine. She invited me to come tonight,” Brooke answered. Sort of, she amended in her head. She glanced over at Andy who was now talking to the beautiful blond soloist.
“She did a great job tonight.”
“She did, didn’t she?” Brooke said proudly. “I should get going, but it was nice to see you again.”
“You too. I hope you’ll make our next meeting.”
Brooke promised to try and hurried over to Andy and the blonde. She felt a twinge of jealousy at the sight of the two musicians. They made a striking pair, one so fair and the other dark and serious, and both so talented.
“…messing up the rhythm in such a simple piece. Maybe you should try practicing with your metronome so you don’t do that in front of a real audience.” Brooke only caught the end of Lyssa’s comment, and it took her a moment to realize that she was criticizing Andy’s performance in that snotty tone. She felt a rush of protective anger and for once acted without worrying what the people around her might think. She marched up to Andy and slid her hand up to the nape of her neck.
