Alicia
I didn’t know how long I played that afternoon, how long it took for my hands to finally perspire and my brow shortly before. I was unaware of a cramp in my hands until it was there, nor the stiffness that rode in an achy wave across the length of my back. These things just all of a sudden seemed to appear, the music the same. I knew I was producing it. I knew that much but after a while I disconnected from my hands and their role in the creation of the music. Oddly enough, once upon a time, my parents believed I might do something with all the years of piano lessons behind me. I’d gotten quite good and probably could have gone to a prestigious school such as Juilliard or somewhere else quite equally proficient. That hadn’t been the life I chose and the playing ended up falling to the wayside. I enjoyed tinkering with it all once in a while and did have a keyboard at home for such days, but usually for the most part, I didn’t play. That had been another life.
No, I didn’t remember how long I played that day in the old house of a woman who’d since passed, but I did remember that moment I finally sat down. When I sat next to a child who had been motherless for who knew how long for. Gray had been elusive about those details about Laura, not surprising as that’s just how he was. He didn’t let on about himself on a personal level or even a cosmetic level. He didn’t let on at all, himself and his daughter a world of privacy I never thought to understand before. It hadn’t been my place, and though it still wasn’t now, I couldn’t ignore what he did allow me to hear. He and his daughter were alone in this world in the sense they were shy a third party I had twice in my life.
His little girl didn’t have a mom.
That had been enough for me I guessed. It’d been enough to impulse me to do something I never usually do. I played piano again and I played for a little girl who seemed to not only love it, but also breathe because of it. She didn’t shy away from me when I had sat on the piano bench beside her. If anything, she welcomed me to it, a place beside her needing to be filled. I knew it to have once been by my aunt.
“She doesn’t get along with a lot of people…”
She probably wouldn’t, would she? A quiet little thing that most people wouldn’t or didn’t bother to understand. My aunt must have taken that time in the passing moments underneath this roof. She must have been there and let the earth move around them.
Laura had to be just as stiff as I was, her head angled and her long and flowing locks breezing across the piano keys on her side. If she was uncomfortable, she didn’t voice the fact. She probably wouldn’t in the end.
I continued to play, never looking too long at her before staring off above the piano. I watched the sun travel down over the trees, the air change and turn to a soft breeze instead of thick with heat. I listened to the sounds of the workers outside dim down until there was no trace of them at all. I listened until it was just me, playing tunes through both muscle memory and the titles filtering in my brain. I had dozens upon dozens in there locked away, ready to pluck for the most opportune moment.
That moment must have been now, the perfect time to play and feel. I only stopped playing when a little hand moved into my designated zone, the sound from the key I last stroked fading off into the dimly lit room. I never turned on the lamps in the house after it’d gotten dark, but in the end, someone must have.
Laura’s hand stroked above the keys I last played and when she looked up at me, I saw something in her both large and vibrant brown eyes I hadn’t before. I saw something of a change, a life there I realized in that moment I had never seen. It was like not noticing something was there until one saw it. I saw it now.
I saw her now.
Something strummed heavy in my heart upon catching it and that something made me want to play for forever and an hour. I wanted to play so the life in this little girl’s eyes would never leave.
The room lay silent after my last stroke. I allowed the tunes to fade out in the wide living room, Laura and I both sitting there on the piano bench. I think we might have sat there forever if not for a voice, Gray.
He’d called his daughter from somewhere in the house and when she heard her name called her feet touched the floor.
Turning, I realized someone had indeed turned on the lights in my aunt’s living room, a single lamp lighting our way into the evening. We really had played for a while, no sounds in the room and dusk settling outside.
I could see it from beyond the piano, the workers gone for the day and myself all alone. A creak in the floor had me turn around and I rose to the sight of Gray, Gray and Laura.
His hand holding hers, he must have found her, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at me.
I stood from the piano bench, his gaze moving with me. He said nothing and made no moves toward me, his deep-blue eyes focused, yet soft in my direction. Squeezing Laura’s hand, he guided her out the front door before I could get to the pair. I might have followed them out had I not seen the note by the door.
I assumed it was from him, reading it as I heard his truck pull away outside. It didn’t say much, cementing how a man of few words he really was, but that didn’t take away any of the meaning from them.
Nor how they made me feel.
“Thank you.”
Chapter Twelve
Gray
In the days ahead, I heard Alicia’s music without it even needing to be played. My ears always seemed to be reaching for it. It was as if my eardrums were always trying to be in a position in which to touch the music. Like I said, she didn’t even need to really be playing for me to hear it. The sound had become an instinctual part of my memory like breathing was to air or sight to a vivid image. My ears needed to hear it and the effects I heavily valued.
I heard her playing even through this evening’s storm, my trailer’s windows a wash of raindrops and restless branches that scurried against it from the oak tree outside. It’d been storming all day, the sound a constant drum in my head, but despite the endless turbulence I still heard the music. I heard Alicia feeling her way into my soul.
She’d played for my kid for countless days, not just the first time I caught her at the piano. After the first instance, I didn’t believe I would hear it again. I mean, I hoped I would but my note to her hadn’t been a requirement of it. I just wanted to thank her for what she’d done and acknowledge her in some way. She’d allowed Laura into her life for a brief time and that meant something to me. It meant something real, something special she didn’t have to do. It was something Jo would have done for my daughter.
It was something she would have done for me. Something she did do.
Moving on to the days that followed that first time, I’d been surprised to hear the music again, but not just that.
She’d played every day, every damn day like she’d been formally asked or even paid, neither of which she received from my end. Despite no presence of monetary value, she continued to play.
Sometimes before Laura and I even arrived.
Most days, the notes would already be sounding in, a soft pull as if from the sweetest piper. The house simply hummed with sound, feeling, and since it’s occurrence, getting Laura up and moving in the morning had ceased. I never even had to nudge her awake anymore, my daughter sitting on her bed and sometimes dressed before I even went to check in on her. She’d always be ready to go after breakfast and actually beat me to the door to leave some days.
She’d always wait patiently, never opening the door herself, but once the knob clicked, she’d be outside and in my truck in the next second. The drive over to Alicia’s was seamless, and once I opened my door, she followed suit, into Alicia’s living room before I knew it. Some days she’d sit on the floor, coloring while Alicia played.
And others…
Those were the sweetest days, the ones I lived and breathed for. She’d sit right at the piano, never asking and Alicia pretending she was never disturbed. Perhaps, because she wasn’t. Her playing always went uninterrupted, her hands moving and playing melodies. Ab
out midway through, Laura would place her little head on the piano, listening and feeling the music from the back of the instrument.
I never disturbed them, always going about my business, but even I couldn’t pretend how her playing for Laura made me feel.
I stopped to talk to her more when I passed by her, the smile on my lips hard not to have each time. She was just like another piece of my life, like Jo had been once upon a time.
Jo…
The evidence of her was in the room, as if she was channeling herself through her niece. The walls of my trailer were covered now, in coloring book pages, pages Laura colored but didn’t rip out and give to me until after Alicia made her way into our lives. In all her coloring, Laura hadn’t once given me any pictures she’d completed.
Yet, she was now.
I put my hand on my favorite on the cabinet above the kitchen sink, wild roses brightly colored in the wind. I didn’t know why it was my favorite, but then again, maybe I did.
The evening storm settling in, it shot the walls of my trailer with its heavy downpour. It’d been raining for two days solid and not looking ready to let up. I never found I much minded rain before. It hadn’t bothered me until, well, it had.
My gaze lifting, I turned toward the living room, my kid sitting on the recliner. She’d been doing that for the last two days as well.
I guess not much else to do since I hadn’t been working.
These days Alicia and her project had taken the majority of my attention. I declined my usual work for that, and because I had, nothing could be done on days, which consisted of crappy weather. My men and I were mostly working outside for the present, which made working on rainy days like today more than a challenge. We couldn’t work through storms and because we couldn’t…
Laura had turned the chair completely toward the window, her cheek pressed to the back of the chair. She looked so much like she did when Alicia played for her and I turned from the image, knowing exactly what she wanted. My kid had grown used to Alicia’s playing, hearing it all the time now.
Hell, I’d gotten used to it too.
Dampening my lips, I reached into the cabinet, taking out a couple cans of tuna and some canned peas. I’d been in the middle of making dinner, another one of Laura’s favorites, tuna casserole. I figured it’d cheer her up if not a little.
I breathed, turning my head in her direction.
“Hey,” I said, smiling at her, though she wasn’t looking at me. “Want to help me with dinner? I could use a hand.”
She normally never did, but then again, I hadn’t asked. I just cooked, not expecting much from her end.
Not surprised, my kid hadn’t budged by the sound of my voice or even my request to ask for help. She simply lay there, gaze through the open window. It was almost like she was willing the storm to stop despite it being too late in the day to work.
I don’t know how many more of these days we can take.
I personally couldn’t take them, wanting the storm to lift myself. I’d been watching the forecast constantly on the television, Kansas’ biggest drought in history apparently being corrected for the next few days. The meteorologist expected flooding, which meant nothing good for my daughter and me, we the casualties.
Letting my hope for a response go, I grabbed the electric can opener, opening the first can of green peas. After draining, I dumped the peas into the glass dish I had waiting, tossing the can into the trashcan. I went to start opening the can of tuna before I thought of something.
It’s worth a shot.
“Laura?” I questioned behind me, loud so I knew she’d hear. I put the can under the opener.
“I bet Alicia might like some dinner,” I said. “Do you think we should take some casserole to her?”
I waited with bated breath. I waited for something to happen, what, I didn’t know, but I needed something.
I needed anything.
Nothing sounded behind me and I started the can opener, opening the tuna. I drained it before putting the tuna into the glass dish, reaching to toss the can in the trash beside me.
But when I turned around I wasn’t alone.
Laura was making her way to me, my gaze following as she travelled across the room. She stood beside me, watching me while I tossed the can into the trash.
My heart moved.
“Want to help?” I asked her, my throat jumping a little. “Like I said, I bet she’d like it if we took some to her.”
I held the next can of tuna to be opened out to her on will and was finally able to breathe when she took it from me. She held it while I got the opener ready, the two of us opening it together.
I made sure her fingers cleared before I pulled the handle and she held the can, guiding it through with my other hand above hers. I lifted the lever and she didn’t even wait on what we had to do next. She traveled to the sink, draining the tuna. She’d seen me do this a million times.
Swallowing, I told her good before asking if she could get the pasta I had already drained in the sink. After giving it a little shake like I asked her, she brought it over, the pair of us tipping the noodles into the dish.
She assisted me with every request and sometimes did steps before I even asked them, but I think it really hit me that this was really happening, when she lifted her chin after sliding the baking dish into the oven on her own. She had something in her eyes, something she sought from me—approval. She wanted approval from me…
Her dad.
Alicia
“I guess we figured you’d need dinner. You know, with the storm and probably not being able to get to the store and everything. You don’t have a car and all.”
Grayden himself stood at my door.
And he was drenched down to his kneecaps.
The top of his shoulders completely saturated, he blinked hard through his eyelashes, rain drops coating them as well as the thickness of his hair and dark beard. Upon seeing him, I hadn’t been surprised he was covered head to toe.
He’d used his plaid shirt to cover Laura.
She currently stood before me completely dry as a bone, a casserole dish in her hands, which wafted the mouthwatering aroma of fish and carbs, two of my favorite things to eat.
Standing there awkwardly, shifting on his boots, Gray waited for me to—I assumed—say something, but I was currently taking a mental picture. I may not ever see such an amusing sight again and I was committing in all to memory.
Fingers up to my lips, I fought my amusement. They might take it the wrong way and who was I to do such a thing when someone brought me dinner with his kid. It’d been an entirely sweet gesture and I waved them in, standing back. Laura had the dish on an oven mitt, but Gray still took it from her when they got into the hallway.
He put it down on the hall’s end table, helping Laura out of her raincoat before getting himself together. I figured he protected her because she had the food and no umbrella.
“We’re not bothering you or anything are we?” he asked, always concerned to be bothering me so I hadn’t been surprised by the question. After shaking Laura’s jacket outside a little, he went to hang it on my aunt’s coat rack.
I took it before he could, doing it myself while he got his plaid button-up shaken out. The thing was basically ruined at this point, so I took that too.
“Of course not,” I said, going down the hall and opening the linen closet. Knowing my aunt’s towels were in there, I pulled one out, tossing one to him.
He caught it.
“You know,” I went on. “Because my door’s always being busted down with callers wanting to bring me food with the company of themselves and their children.”
His lips parted, worry creasing his brow and I figured he didn’t get the joke.
Rolling my eyes, I told him it was fine again before taking his shirt. I planned to run it upstairs and hang it on the shower curtain rod.
“We’ll just put this in the kitchen then,” he said once I hit the stairs. I noticed him wave on
Laura, the little one scurrying on behind him with his long strides and I shook my head.
That one is different, I thought, remembering Ava’s words, smiling when I got to the bathroom. I shook out his shirt.
A smell of musk and extreme male breezed into the room and caught me off guard a little. I was used to the scent of Gray and his environment. I mean, the aroma wasn’t necessarily bad but it did smell of work and sweat in general.
This smell was different, though, almost sweet with the scent and I smiled again, hanging up the shirt. I made my way downstairs and found nothing but a little miracle.
Saying I was so used to people being around was an understatement with Grayden and his workers, but I still never quite felt surrounded. It could be really lonely in my aunt’s house. Especially after everyone left.
But no loneliness could be found now, as a little girl and her dad set the table.
A beautiful array, they had everything stationed from the butter dishes to the salt and pepper shakers, a place setting for three. They’d been putting the water glasses down when I came into the room, neither one of them noticing at first.
I watched them, lounging against the door. He handed her glasses, obviously knowing his way around the kitchen, and Laura placed them, obviously knowing her way around the task. The two had definitely done this before and that was a given.
Opening the fridge, Gray got the water pitcher and set it down on the middle of the table, his lashes going up and catching me.
Caught, I lifted my head, coming into the kitchen. I went to grab my chair, but someone got there first.
It’d been Grayden. He pulled it out, one hand on the back of the chair.
I told him, “Thank you.” His slight nod was the only acknowledgment that he’d heard me. He even helped me push in, but his task apparently wasn’t done.
“Little miss,” he said, dipping his head and smiling softly at Laura before pulling her chair out. She didn’t smile, and knowing her mannerisms for a little while, I knew she wouldn’t. But she did have a little red in her cheeks when she accepted the seat given to her by her father. Pushed in, she waited until he had a seat himself to move.
His Sweetest Song Page 10
