Page 16 of Lovestrung

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?!” I cried out. “You haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

“I don’t need to because I already know it.” He tapped my nose with his index finger. “You’re going to suggest that you’ll call me if you need extra cash while you’re away, but here’s the thing, girl: I know you. You won’t ask for help.”

I grabbed his hand and placed his palm on my cheek. I knew he’d defeated me.

“I’ve been saving for this trip for years, Gramps. I wanted to do this on my own.”

His eyes gentled.

“I know, but don’t cast aside help when it’s offered freely. You’re a proud woman, and I admire it – except when you’re wrong.”

I nodded again as I looked down. He was right – again.

Damn it.

“Good girl,” he sighed and leaned back in his bed. “I’ll call Arnold tomorrow, make the arrangements for the money to be transferred to your account as quickly as possible.” His eyes lit up with excitement. “Do you want to know how much it is?”

“Oh, gosh, no!” I laughed though my tears, warding him off with my hands in front of me. “I’d rather not.”

He chuckled again and yawned. “All right, then. I’m ready to sleep now, girl. Goodnight.”

I stood from my chair and bent down to kiss his cheek.

“Thank you,” I whispered against his warm skin. “For everything.”

I felt him nod as he patted my arm. I straightened my back and took his book, placing it gently on the bedside table before I turned out the light. Mind reeling, I left him alone, shutting the door softly behind me.

Blowing out a long breath, I leaned my back against the hard wood, needing a moment to myself before I went upstairs to Ethan.

3

The Past - A Special Boy

Pippa & Ethan – ages ten & thirteen

The sound of piano music pulled me from my book and I cocked my ear. No one had played the old thing in ages, so to say that it was unusual to hear the slightly off-key notes on this plain, boring Sunday would be an understatement.

I looked at Mama from my perch at the bar in the kitchen. She was baking again, a task she did when she was feeling worried about something and wasn’t ready to talk about it. The puzzled look in her pale green eyes gave way to astonished warmth.

“Mama, who’s playing?” I set aside my book and leaned my arms on the table.

“I’m not sure,” she mused as she set down the tray filled with cinnamon cookies in front of me. She blew a lock of her blonde bangs away from her eyes. “It’s been years since Max played, so it can’t be him. But maybe you can go take a look?”

I scratched a mosquito bite on my ankle. “It has to be Ethan, doesn’t it?”

She tilted her head at me. “If you already know the answer, why do you ask?”

I shrugged and hopped down from my seat. “Just had a hunch, I guess.”

She shook her head. “You’re too clever for your own good, baby girl.”

Grinning, I went to the sitting room at the back of the house. As I came closer, I bent down to take off my shoes, afraid Ethan would hear me if I wasn’t careful. After I’d slipped them off, I tiptoed closer and stopped at the doorway. Cautious, I kept most of my body hidden behind the wall and peeked inside the room.

He was sitting down, head bent, while he tested out the notes with what appeared to be all his fingers at once, and while I didn’t recognize the piece he was playing – it was so sad and melancholy – I recognized the beauty of it.

But what turned out to be even more beautiful was the boy playing. His eyes were closed, and as his lips tilted up at the corners, serenity passed over his features for once, and I was captivated by how relaxed he seemed, lost in his own world and playing a work of art that, despite its sadness, seemed to make him feel at ease. I was so tempted to walk inside and sit down next to him. I wanted to listen to him play for hours. Maybe, if we’d become friends like I’d hoped when he’d moved into our home two months ago, I could’ve done that, but all my attempts at befriending him had been in vain, and he kept to himself most of the time. Molly and Sam had become his shadows, and they were the only creatures he allowed close to him – and there they were, snoring at his feet. Mama and Daddy even allowed them to sleep in his room every night, even though they’d always told me no when I’d asked; but I didn’t resent him for it. I knew there must be a very good reason for them to allow it, and maybe they’d tell me when they were ready to share it.