“I hope you two enjoy the rest of your Thanksgiving,” Anita said, following behind her father who was pushing Noland’s wheelchair.
“Young lady,” Mrs. Teller called to Em.
“Yes, Mrs. Teller?”
“I can’t find my tiara. Have you seen it?”
Em’s face fell.
Anita glanced back at Em then patted the older woman’s arm. “I think your tiara is in your room, dear. I’ll help you look for it when we get back.”
* * *
“I thought we could take a walk through the botanic gardens before we went home,” Michael said.
They walked hand and hand down the main drive of the Senior Living Campus. The street lamps lining the road cast warm pools of light as the last breaths of daylight succumbed to the growing darkness of the evening sky. The temperature was mild for late November, and a gentle breeze played toss with the last few stray leaves scattered across the lawn.
“I could use a walk,” Em answered, inhaling the fresh air.
The buzzing in her head had quieted, and the nausea that had plagued her during dinner had passed. She was trying to untangle what Mrs. Teller had told her. Parsing out what was real from what was just a product of the woman’s dementia was proving to be a fool’s errand.
They passed through the garden’s main gate. Michael was more quiet than usual, his thumb tracing nervous circles on her palm.
“What did you make of Mrs. Teller?” Em asked.
“What do you mean? The Sadie’s Hollow connection?”
“Yes, the hollow connection. You don’t think that’s odd?”
“Em, there’s not a whole lot going on in southeast Kansas. Anyone from the area would know about the hollow. Kids have been partying there for ages. Hell, we knew about it, and we live more than an hour’s drive away.”
“What about when she called Anita, Mrs. Hale. You don’t think that’s strange?”
He squeezed her hand. “She also asked for her missing tiara.”
Em blew out a breath. “I know. I know.”
“I think it’s best to take everything Mrs. Teller says with a grain of salt. She’s got pretty severe dementia.” Michael raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “I want you to do something for me.”
“What are you up to?” Em asked, catching him with a goofy smile.
He tossed her a wink. “Why do I have to be up to anything?”
“That’s not an answer, and something’s going on between you and my dad. Did you think I didn’t notice?” she rallied back.
“Just close your eyes.”
She shut them halfway. “They’re closed.”
“Liar! Do it for real.”
Em shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, they’re closed for real.”
Eyes closed, she took his arm, and they walked farther into the gardens.
“Open your eyes, Mary Michelle.”
She blinked a few times adjusting to the light. He had led her to the pavilion. The tenting from the other night when they came upon the cotillion dance was gone. In its place were hanging strings of white lights.
“It’s beautiful, but why are we here?”
“Why?” he parroted back, smiling. “Because you never got to go to prom or homecoming and nobody forced you to endure cotillion waltz torture.”
Her tears blurred the twinkling lights.
“I wanted to give you the whole experience,” he began, leading her up the steps and into the center of the pavilion. “First, I took you to dinner.”
She brushed a tear away and cocked her head. “Thanksgiving at a nursing home counts as dinner?”
Michael smiled. “Classy, huh?”
“What if it was snowing or freezing outside?”
A self-assured expression crossed his face. “I had a backup plan.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.” He twirled her in a slow circle. “You remember Tony, one of my dad’s nurses?”
Em nodded with a wry grin. “I remember Tony.”
“He said he would throw some lights up in the arts and crafts room if I gave him a nod during dinner.”
“The arts and crafts room?” she laughed.
Michael gathered her into his arms. “Seemed to work for you this afternoon.”
She met his gaze. “Okay, you’ve got the location covered. I’m no expert, but isn’t there supposed to be music?”
Michael’s green eyes sparkled. He reached into his pocket and handed her an earbud. “I’d never forget the music.”
She placed the bud into her ear, and he did the same. Their Chopin remix began to play. She listened to the original melody blend seamlessly with the techno beats. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent.
“This is perfect, Michael. All this, it’s better than I could have ever imagined—and the music. I never thought I’d get it back.”
“You could do this, Em. We could do this together. I mean, in just a few weeks we’ve already created four tracks. And they’re good. They’re really good.”
They had taken popular classical pieces and added a techno twist. Em played the electric violin on each track, subtly modifying the melody and creating a sound that was both familiar and completely unique.
“What about your work at the law firm? What about your reputation?”
“Em, I’m a better lawyer when I’m making music with you. Running the practice these last few weeks hasn’t felt like a chore or an obligation. Everything flows. There’s a balance I haven’t known in years, and it’s you. It’s having you back in my life. We’re…”
“Better together,” she said.
He smiled that crooked smile. “Don’t go back to Australia, Em. Stay with me.”
She wanted to scream yes, but something was holding her back. “What about my mom?”
“We’ll visit for every holiday. We’ll spend as much time there as you like. But Langley Park is your home. It’s our home.”
He was right. She loved Australia. Australia had been the shelter she needed after her injury, but Australia wasn’t her home. It was her hiding place. Langley Park was in her bones. The ebb and flow of the town was the soundtrack that never stopped calling her home.
And then there was Michael.
Michael was in every note she had ever played. Every melody she’d ever hummed. His crooked smile. His spearmint lemongrass scent. His green eyes filled with wonder as he sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor.
He tilted her face up. “I have loved you my entire life. I loved you before I even knew what love was. I couldn’t separate myself from you if I tried. You’re not in my heart, Mary Michelle. You are my heart. Please, stay with me.”
She met his gaze. Two pools of deep sage green reflected her past, her present, and her future.
She smiled up at him. “I need you to take me somewhere.”
24
“Why did you want to come here, Em?”
Michael pulled the Range Rover off to the side of the road but kept the lights on. It was pitch black outside. The closest street lamp was a speck of light in the distance. They had driven eighty miles in complete silence.
Was the pavilion too much? Had he scared her? Had he pressed her to stay too soon?
The only comfort during the drive was that Em had held his hand, her smooth fingers laced with his, for the entire trip.
“This is the place where I thought everything ended,” she said, breaking the bubble of silence.
The light of the dashboard illuminated her face. She was staring straight ahead into the dark recess of Sadie’s Hollow.
She released his hand. “Come on.”
Em hopped out of the car and walked into the inky black night. Clouds had rolled in, and the moon was obscured behind a thick swath of heavy cloud cover. He grabbed the flashlight he kept in the Rover and hurried to catch up. Flicking it on, he pointed the stream of light ahead of him to where Em was heading toward the cemetery and The Steps to Hell.
“Em! Don’t!”
he called out, ashamed he still believed in that silly superstition.
This place held horrors for him, too. He didn’t dare close his eyes. If he did, he knew what he would see. Em, unconscious and covered in a gray powder. Auburn hair fanned out in dusty, sweat-caked waves over the steps. And her hand. Christ, that angry gash on her finger, caked with dried blood and bits of glass and earth.
She took his hand. “I wanted to answer you here. I’m not letting this place control my life. I’m not angry about what happened to me anymore. I only want to know the truth.”
He joined her on the first step. His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he peered down the steps. Just steps. He didn’t see Em’s listless body lying helpless on the limestone stairs.
“What do you say, Em?”
She met his gaze in the inky darkness. “I want to make music with you. It’s like I’ve been living on bread and water these last twelve years. And now, every day is some magical feast of harmonies and melodies. But I’m not ready to share this with anyone. Not yet. No posting on the web or sending demos out or whatever those internet musicians do these days.”
He smiled. “I can agree to those terms.”
The wind kicked up, and wisps of Em’s hair blew across her face. He released her hand and tucked the locks behind her ear. His fingertips lingered, and he traced a line down her jaw.
She took his hand and pressed it to her heart. “This has always belonged to you.”
Her heart beat a steady song of life and love against his palm. But if this was going to be their fresh start, he had to tell her everything.
He swallowed hard. “I need to tell you something.”
She nodded, giving him space to speak.
“I used to tell myself that I didn’t go back and find you that night because I was young and stupid. The truth is, that night, you were just so much. So much beauty. So much talent. So much life. You deserved the world and everything it was begging to offer you. It was easier to submit to Tiffany, to everyone complimenting me on my music, because I knew this was it for me. This was the high point in my life. But you, you were going to conquer the world.”
Warm tears trailed off her cheek and onto his hand. He tilted her face up and kissed each tear.
“I swear on my life. I will never be reckless with your heart ever again. I will always keep it safe. I have loved you all my life. I know all your smiles. I’ve memorized every freckle. I will never, never let you down again, Em.”
She parted her lips, and he captured her mouth, kissing her deeply. He pulled back and drew his tongue across her bottom lip.
“Say yes. Say you’ll stay,” he breathed.
“Yes,” she replied. “I’ll stay. I’m home. You are my home.”
He slid his hands into her hair and twisted handfuls of soft auburn. She let out a sigh, sounding of relief and love and desire all weaved into one gasp of breath. The air was charged all around them as if nature herself had been waiting for Em to agree to stay. The sky flashed like the Fourth of July, and a deep rumble vibrated through the hollow. They shielded their eyes as heavy sheets of sleet poured from the sky.
“Thundersnow,” he said, as another quick flash of light cracked through the air. “Come on.” Michael grabbed her hand, and they ran back to the safety of the Rover.
Em twisted her damp hair into a messy bun. “I haven’t experienced thundersnow since I was a little girl.”
He turned on the car and cranked up the heat. Through the glow of the headlights, they watched the soupy air fill with thick streams of ice and water. The patter of the sleet against the car faded into the background and was punctuated with the occasional burst of light and grumble of thunder.
Em leaned over the console and snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. “I’ve always loved thundersnow.”
He wrapped an arm around her. “Me, too.”
The mix of rain and ice morphed into fat flakes of snow, and she pressed a kiss to his neck. “Let’s go home.”
He shifted the car into drive, and they traversed the dark country road. Her lips traveled from his neck and nipped at his earlobe. She’d balanced herself by holding on to his thigh. Her hand slid up his leg, and it was now dangerously close to his hardening shaft. He gripped the steering wheel tighter as her hand made a slow pass over his cock.
He turned onto some country road. He wasn’t sure which one, and he didn’t care. She palmed him hard, coaxing his cock to grow hot and thick.
“You’re putting my driving skills to the test,” he hissed through grated teeth.
Em’s hand stroked a steady rhythm, and he made another mindless turn onto another random country road. He was pretty sure he was seconds away from ripping the steering wheel from the steering column.
“We’re going to get lost in the middle of Bumble-fuck Nowhere if you keep that up.”
She answered him by unbuttoning his fly.
“I thought you said your Rover could get through anything.”
“It may have met its match with you,” he groaned.
She leaned over and took his cock into her mouth. His head lolled back, and he pulled the car over and slammed it into park.
“Fuck, Em. People should write ballads about your mouth.”
He slid his hands into her hair, twisting the locks around his fingers as she worked magic with her glorious mouth. He could spend all eternity with her lips sliding up and down his cock, but he wanted more.
“Slow down,” he groaned.
She turned her head and met his gaze. A dirty smile graced her lips, and she licked the head of his penis like she was taking the cherry off an ice cream sundae.
“Fucking, Christ,” he growled and pulled her over the console.
She straddled him and licked her lips.
“Are you trying to make me lose my shit in thirty seconds?” he breathed.
She took his cock into her hand. “Maybe? This seems to be working for you.”
He reached between her thighs and massaged her through yet another pair of tights.
“Go ahead,” she said, reading his mind as she traced her thumb over the head of his penis.
He gripped the nylon and pulled, ripping possibly the twentieth pair of tights she owned.
“At least I know what to get you for Christmas,” he said.
She laughed and pressed her lips to his. “I love you, Michael Edward MacCarron.”
He shifted in the seat and slid his pants down past his hips. She gave him a sexy smile and bit her lip. An electric jolt traveled straight to his rock-hard cock. He palmed her ass and guided her onto his shaft.
“It’s pretty fucking hot when you say that. Say it again.”
Her lips parted, and she moaned as he filled her.
“Say it,” he whispered into her ear, thrusting in slow, delicious strokes.
“I, I…”
He took it as a compliment when she couldn’t answer. Her hair had fallen free of the makeshift bun, and the waves of auburn glowed a hazy blue in the light coming from the dashboard. She looked like some mythical creature bobbing and swaying in the light.
He pumped inside her, ripping more of the nylon tights to grip her bare ass. He was close to letting go, but there was no way in hell he was going to come before she found her release. He rolled his hips and altered the angle of penetration. It was just what she needed. Em dug her nails into his shoulders. Her body shuddered and contracted around his cock with an iron grip.
“Fuck, yes,” he breathed.
He ripped her blouse open and pressed his lips to her collarbone, kissing and biting the delicate skin as he found his release deep inside of her core.
Em cupped his face in her hands. She was breathing hard, trying to catch her breath. “I love you, Michael.”
He drew sleepy circles on the small of her back. “See, that wasn’t so hard to say, was it?”
She tilted her head to the side and gave him her sweetest cherry popsicle grin. He gazed into her eyes, but something was di
fferent. She was no longer bathed in only the blue light from the dashboard. He blinked as the hum of a car engine accompanied the burst of high beam lights that now fully illuminated her face.
“Oh my gosh! It’s a car!” Em said, scrambling off his lap.
His heartbeat kicked up. There was a good chance it was some poor deputy from Garrett sent to patrol the quiet county roads on Thanksgiving evening. Michael pulled up his pants and worked to secure his fly. If some cop asked him to exit the vehicle, evidence of their escapade would be all over the front of his trousers.
Em patted her hair and zipped her coat up, but it did little to hide the shredded tights. He eyed her and let out a chuckle.
She bit her lip. “I’ve got to at least try and look presentable.”
He tucked a wild auburn lock behind her ear. “I think we’re well past presentable.”
The car was nearly upon them. White light filled the inside of the Rover. Michael reached for the glovebox. He wanted to have his insurance card ready for the officer. But before he could even look up, the car sped past them. All he saw were its taillights disappearing into the snowy darkness.
“I guess it wasn’t a cop.” He tossed his insurance card back into the glovebox. “It’s probably some farmer.”
He was about to put the car in gear when Em opened the car door, triggering the bright interior lights.
Michael shielded his eyes. “What are you doing, Em?”
“I saw something when that car went by.”
“Em, wait a second,” he said, eyes blurring from the light, but she was already out of the car, jogging into the darkness.
“Bring the flashlight,” she called back.
“I know we’re in the middle of nowhere, but it still isn’t safe to be out here.”
Michael switched on the flashlight and swept the side of the road with the thin beam of light. Em was crouched on the side of the road in front of some sort of object.
“What is it, Em?”
“You’ve got to see this,” she answered.
He jogged over to find her brushing fresh flakes of snow off a wooden cross. The smiling image of a girl in cap and gown was affixed to the top. Someone had carved the name Tina Fowler below the picture.
The Sound of Home Page 19
