Alex set his hands on the keys, his eyes closed.
The silence seemed heavier, the stillness of the room thick and expectant. He could have been sitting in Carnegie Hall, an audience of thousands waiting for him to begin.
Tess took a step toward him, worried that he shouldn’t be playing the piano without permission, wondering what the congregation would think if they found out that she’d allowed him to enter the chapel uninvited.
“Don’t.” Cade put a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place as Alex opened his eyes and began to play.
Chapter Eighteen
Music poured into the room. Not the somber song that Tessa had expected. A quick burst of notes and chords that fell into the silence and filled it up. Not happy exactly, but not sad like Alex’s angel song. This song had life and energy and a mystery that made Tess want to keep listening.
Cade pulled her to a pew and sat, tugging her down with him. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, his fingers playing in the ends of her hair.
She didn’t know if it was the song or the man that kept her in place, but she found herself leaning against Cade, her gaze on Alex and his flying fingers, his enraptured expression. He seemed to be saying something to her, and she wanted to grab the message from the song, learn what it was he needed her to know.
The door opened and cold air blew in, but Alex didn’t stop playing, and Tessa couldn’t stop watching. Jethro Fisher sat in the pew across from theirs, and Tessa glanced his way just long enough to see the contented look on his face.
She didn’t know how long the song lasted. When it ended, Alex sat for a moment, his head down, his fingers lax on the keys.
Jethro clapped, and Alex finally moved away from the piano.
“Thank you,” he said to Jethro, and the reverend touched his head.
“Thank you. Does your song have a name?”
Alex nodded, tapping his fingers together rapidly. “‘Tessa’s Song,’” he said, looking straight into her eyes, and she knew the gift she’d been given, the weight of it so heavy and yet so wonderful she wasn’t sure how to respond.
“Thank you, Alex,” she finally managed, but he’d already moved away.
“I’m sorry for interrupting your time together,” Jethro said softly, his eyes warm, chocolaty brown. “I saw the truck from the parsonage and thought I’d come over to see if everything was okay.”
“We should have asked permission before using your church. I’m sorry we interrupted your evening.”
“Oh, it’s not my church, Tess. It belongs to Apple Valley. I’m just the caretaker of it. As for interrupting, I think of it more as a pleasant distraction from dish duty.”
“I’m not sure Natalie will be happy about that,” Cade said.
Jethro chuckled. “Actually, I’m hoping she’ll take pity on me and do them while I’m gone.” He glanced at Alex. “He’s very talented, Tess. You know that, right?”
“Yes.”
“I was wondering . . . would you be willing to allow him to play at the Christmas Eve service?”
“I don’t think he’d be comfortable with that.”
“He played at the tea,” Cade pointed out, choosing exactly the wrong moment to rejoin the conversation.
“That was different.”
Neither man asked her how playing piano in front of a hundred people was different from playing in front of a church congregation. Thank goodness.
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Our choir director would love to include your nephew in our program.”
“I will. Thank you again for letting Alex play the piano tonight.”
“Don’t mention it, my dear.” Jethro smiled and then turned his attention to Cade. “Cade, if you have a moment, I wanted to talk to you about a workday we’re planning here at the church. We need to clean up the yard. Would it be possible to get the boys’ club to help? If so, I need your input on dates. It will only take a minute.”
“Do you mind, Tess?” Cade asked.
She didn’t, but she was pleased that he cared enough to ask. “Of course not. We’ll wait outside. Come on, Alex, it’s time to go.”
Alex shuffled to the door, his old-man gait more pronounced. He seemed reluctant to leave, but it was time. She urged him outside, shivering as a frigid breeze blew through the trees and rustled the grass.
The truck was straight ahead, but Alex veered to the right.
“Alex! Where are you going?” She grabbed his arm, but he shrugged away, continuing around the side of the building. She knew where he was going, of course. She probably should have realized that he’d want to go there, long before they’d arrived at the church.
Maybe she had. Maybe she just hadn’t wanted to think about it. They hadn’t been back to the grave sites since Emily and Dave’s burial. She hadn’t, anyway. It was possible Gertrude had taken Alex when they’d attended church.
“It’s late, Alex. We should come back when it’s light. Maybe after school tomorrow,” she said, but he just kept walking.
The graveyard was behind the church. Spread out over a dozen acres, it had served as the cemetery for congregation members for over a century. Tess and her friends used to visit it every Halloween, sitting under gravestones and calling to spirits. They’d never gotten a response, but they sure had scared the hell out of each other with ghost stories.
The Riley section of the graveyard was easy to find. A huge marble statue stood in the center of it. A woman holding a baby, her face serene. Daniel Riley had commissioned it after Miriam died, and it had been placed over her grave a year later.
Some people said the statue cried every Christmas Eve. Others said that she sang to her baby when the moon was full. Even as a kid, Tess had scoffed at the idea. Right now, with the moon full and deep orange, she couldn’t help shivering a little.
Emily and Dave’s graves were a few yards away.
Alex didn’t hesitate. He knew exactly where they were, and he walked over to the slightly mounded earth. Dark against the grass, the graves were like blemishes on the otherwise pristine lawn.
Alex knelt between the two, stretching his arms out and laying his hands flat on the dirt. He hummed quietly, looking up at the moon and the stars as if he might see his parents there.
And for the first time since her mother had driven away in her grumbling station wagon, a tear slipped down Tessa’s cheek. It hurt that much to see Alex kneeling there.
She wiped it away, her hand shaking, her heart heavy. She wanted so badly to give him back what he’d lost, but all she could do was stand and watch while he grieved. The breeze picked up, blowing dry leaves across the grass, the sound like dry bones. She should tell Alex to get up, tell him it was time to go home. She didn’t have the heart to pull him away.
Another tear slipped down her cheek. This time, she didn’t bother wiping it away.
Cade knew that he would find Tessa and Alex in the graveyard, but he took his time walking around the church, wanting to give them space. Moonlight illuminated the path, its soft yellow glow painting the world in shades of gold and gray. White headstones jutted up from the ground. Some new. Some crumbling. Cade found the Riley plot easily, the marble statue of Miriam Riley still beautiful after nearly a hundred years.
Tess stood with her back to Cade. Alex knelt a few feet away, his hands on his parents’ graves, his face turned up to the sky.
Their grief was palpable, and he felt like an interloper. He would have probably walked away if Tess hadn’t glanced over her shoulder.
She’d been crying, her lashes clumped together.
“It’s okay. We’re almost finished,” she said.
He took it as an invitation and walked to her side, took her hand. Stood there with her in the moonlight, thinking about Dave and Emily, and how they’d all been friends for a while. Dave’s betrayal had cut deep. Probably deeper than Emily’s. She’d always been flighty, unfocused and scattered, her emotions running the gamut from sweet to bitchy in about the time it t
ook to take a breath.
When he was young, he hadn’t cared. He’d liked the drama and the passion that went with it. It would have worn thin, though. By the time Emily had announced her pregnancy, it probably already had.
Alex started singing, his voice husky and low, the words barely audible. Something about sleeping and good-bye and tomorrow. Cade didn’t find much to cry about in life, but, damn, if that kid’s song didn’t touch something deep inside. His chest tightened, and he looked away, took a couple of deep breaths as Tessa let out a soft hiccup.
“Shhhhhh,” he said, pulling her into his arms and pressing her head to his chest, because she hated to cry, and he knew it. “It’s okay.”
She nodded but didn’t speak, her arms sliding around his waist, her hands clutching his shirt. She smelled like sunshine and flowers, and he couldn’t help himself, he inhaled a little more of her, his hands finding their way under her thick coat. She wore a soft sweater that had hitched up on one side, and his right palm landed on her warm flesh. Satiny skin and heat, and if they’d been standing anywhere else, if she’d been anyone else, he’d have let his hand wander. Pulled her a little closer. Tasted her lips again, because he didn’t think he could ever have enough of Tess.
He kept his hand right where it was, then tilted her chin so he could see her face.
“It’s okay, Red,” he murmured, even though they both knew it wasn’t and it wouldn’t ever be again. Not for Alex, anyway. Not for Gertrude or Tess. They’d make it through, they’d go on, but losing Emily and Dave would never be okay.
“No.” She hiccuped. “It’s really not. My sister is dead. Her husband is dead. And I am completely messing up the only really important job I’ve ever had. Look at him,” she said as she gestured to Alex. “Sitting between his parents’ graves singing, and I’m just letting him.”
“If it’s what he needs, there’s no harm in it. Give yourself a little credit and trust that you know what’s best for him.”
“Thanks.” She offered a watery smile. “But I don’t trust that I know anything about raising a child. My genetic pool doesn’t come with very strong maternal instincts.”
“You’re selling yourself short, Tess.”
“Just being honest. It’s not like my mother knew what the hell she was doing. It’s only natural that I’d be an abysmal failure at parenting.”
“Your mother was a loser, but Gertrude did a good job of raising you and Emily.”
“She tried,” she said, sighing. “She is also going to try to kill me when she finds out that I let Alex do this.”
“She’ll have to catch you first, and she’s not all that fast right now.”
That got a shaky laugh out of her.
“She’s also not here, so I guess as long as we keep quiet, I don’t have to fear for my life.”
“Are you asking me to keep this to myself?” he teased, hooking his arm through hers and tugging her close to his side. Damn, it felt good to have her there.
“Of course.” She glanced at Alex. “It’s not like he’ll say anything.”
“I won’t, either. If you come to the Christmas dance with me.” He tossed the invitation out again, because Ida had been nagging him about attending, reminding him daily that if he didn’t bring a date, he’d be hounded by every unattached woman in Apple Valley.
She hadn’t suggested that he bring Tessa.
As a matter of fact, she’d hinted broadly that Charlotte would be a good choice. She would have been, but Cade figured that if he was going to put on fancy old-fashioned clothes and waltz around town hall, he’d much rather do it with Tessa.
“That’s blackmail.” She laughed again, and Cade wanted to press his lips to hers, taste the laughter that spilled into the cold night air.
“Guilty as charged,” he responded, his body tight with need, his heart thumping hard for Tessa.
“You won’t tell her,” Tess responded. “You kept way too many of my childhood secrets for me to think you’d do anything different now.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
“Gertrude wouldn’t really kill me, and I’m not really afraid of her, so I guess your blackmail is useless.”
“Too bad. I really wanted to see you in one of those old-fashioned corsets.” He also really wanted to figure out how to get her out of one.
“You’re going to be disappointed, then. Victorian misses didn’t wear corsets as shirts, the way women do today. They wore them under layers. Lots and lots of layers.” She turned her attention back to Alex, her amusement falling away. “Alex, we need to go home.”
“Okay.” Alex didn’t seem upset about leaving. He was humming as they walked away. The same tune he’d been singing at the grave sites.
Poor kid. He’d been through the wringer, and it showed. His skin pale, his cheeks hollow. He looked thinner, more fragile than he had before Emily and Dave died. Cade helped him into the truck, more concerned for the young boy than he probably should have been. Alex wasn’t his, after all.
He could have been, though.
That was one of the things Cade had never been able to forget, that if things had been different, Alex would have been his child.
He and Emily would have been miserable together. He knew that now. Maybe they’d have lasted a couple of years. Maybe they would have muddled through for longer. A kid, though? That would have been nice.
Tess climbed into his truck, and Cade walked around to the driver’s seat, light spilling from the church windows and illuminating the parking lot. The night was quiet, just a few cars on the road back to the town center. Cade drove Tess to Murphy’s for doughnuts and to the diner for a sandwich that she said Gertrude wanted. She asked about Cade’s family and his job. He asked about her job and her life in Annapolis. Mundane stuff, but it felt good. As if they’d come full circle, from their years of wandering around town together on bikes to driving around it in his old truck. As if all the years that they hadn’t spent together had never been and all that existed was one long expanse of time that stretched unbroken between them.
He drove slowly on his way back to the Riley place, not quite ready to say good night. It was early, and aside from microwaving a frozen meal, he didn’t have plans.
He pulled into the driveway, and Tess got out before he could round the truck and open the door for her. Alex followed, walking slowly behind her.
Cade followed them up the porch stairs, hovering behind Tess as she unlocked the door.
Alex walked into the foyer, disappearing without a good-night or even a glance over his shoulder.
And Cade and Tess were alone, standing in the light spilling from the open door. Not kids anymore, but he felt like a teenager, anticipating that final good-night, that last kiss. Wanting it more than he thought he’d wanted anything in a very long time.
“Okay,” she said, and he frowned, not sure what she was talking about.
“Okay what?”
“I’ll go to the Christmas dance with you.”
Gertrude yelled something from inside the house, and Tessa glanced over her shoulder.
“I’ll be right there,” she shouted back, before meeting Cade’s eyes again. “Thanks for the ride. I owe you one.”
He snagged her hand before she could disappear inside. “Is that why you agreed to come to the dance with me? A sense of obligation?”
“You’re why I agreed, Cade,” she said simply.
“Good,” he whispered, kissing her gently, tenderly, keeping it light and easy, because there’d be time for more later, and because, with Tess, he wanted to take his time.
“I’m starving in here!” Gertrude shouted, and Tess jerked back.
“I’d better go. Thanks again.”
She shut the door, and Cade was left standing in the cold, smiling like a fool because of a Christmas dance and a woman he should have noticed a lifetime ago.
Across the street, Charlotte’s door opened. She stepped outside, waving him over.
“What’s up, C
harlotte?” he asked as he approached her.
“I baked banana bread today. I thought you might like a loaf.” She thrust a foil-wrapped package toward him, but he didn’t think that was all she wanted to say. She seemed nervous, her gaze skittering away, her fingers fiddling with the buttons on her coat.
“What’s wrong?”
“I . . .” She sighed, running her hand over her hair and shifting from foot to foot. “Look, I’m really uncomfortable with this, but there’s something I think I should tell you. I just don’t want to get anyone in trouble.”
“If the person didn’t do anything he should get in trouble for, then there’s nothing to worry about. If he did, you have an obligation to let me know what it was. What’s going on?”
“I saw Zimmerman Beck come out of the Riley place Sunday afternoon,” she said quickly, and then pressed her lips together. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sure he had a reason for being there.”
“Probably,” Cade said just to make her feel better. There was no way Zim had a reason to be in his neighbor’s house. At least none that Cade could think of. “I’ll go have a talk with him. See what he has to say about it.”
“You’re not going to tell him I was the one who said he was there, are you? I’ve always gotten along well with Zim, and I don’t want that to change.”
“I’ll just tell him that someone mentioned seeing him.”
“Thanks, Cade.” She smiled, but she still looked worried. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“I’ll let you know what I find out.” He waved and headed back across the street, bypassing his truck and walking to Zim’s place. The lights were on, the curtains open to reveal a decorated Christmas tree. Zim might be difficult, but he loved holidays.
Cade rang the doorbell and heard Zim call from inside, “Hold on! I’m coming!”
Seconds later, something bumped the door. Probably Zim’s head as he leaned in to look through the peephole.
The door opened, and Zim stood on the threshold, scowling. “What do you need, Sheriff? I’m right in the middle of my show, and I don’t have a lot of time.”
The House on Main Street Page 19
