Page 19 of The Heart’s Charge

She hummed and swayed, the music drawing her closer without conscious thought. Before she knew it, she stood directly behind Mark’s back.

Once Abner caught his breath from laughing so hard, he smiled up at her. “What song do you want to sing, Miss Katherine?”

“Oh, I don’t need to—”

“I know!” Without giving her the chance to demur, Mark handed his bugle to Abner and leapt to his feet. “There’s a park . . . and a fountain . . .”

She shook her head. He wouldn’t.

His eyes danced with equal parts mischief and pleading as he held out his hand to her. “Sing it with me, Kate. The kids will love it.”

The song they’d performed ten years ago in the Westfield Follies, their annual school production. That number had led to her own Westfield folly a few months later by making her believe she and Mark had a special connection. Making her far too bold for her own good. But oh, how she’d loved singing with him.

Singing. Holding hands. Playacting a couple in love. She’d adored every minute of it. Being in his home so his mother could accompany them on the piano. Mark’s handsome smile, his teasing flirtation whenever his mother left the room. The way he could harmonize with her using notes that weren’t even written on the sheet music. As if his voice just instinctively fit with hers.

It had been the most perfect two weeks of her life.

“Sing, Miss Katherine,” the children demanded. “Sing!”

She stared at Mark’s outstretched hand, then met his eyes.

“Come on, Kate. For old times’ sake.”

Oh, what was the harm? It was just a song.

“All right.”

The children cheered, but it was the excitement sparking in Mark’s amber eyes that set her stomach to somersaulting. Ten years, and she still hadn’t built up an immunity to those eyes. Best not tempt fate by actually touching him.

“If we’re going to do this,” she said, spinning away from him and his outstretched hand with a swirl of her skirt, “we might as well give them the full performance.”

Mark tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.” He strode in the opposite direction before pivoting to face her. He straightened his clothing, put on a dandified persona, and took a step in her direction.

“‘While strolling in the park one day,’” he sang, his pitch impeccable despite the lack of accompaniment.

She took a step in his direction, looking anywhere but at him, and sang, “‘All in the merry month of May . . .’” She placed a hand to her chest and leaned backward as her eyes flew wide. “‘A roguish pair of eyes . . .’”

Mark waggled his brows. Their audience giggled on cue.

“‘They took me by surprise,’” she lilted. “‘In a moment my poor heart they stole away.’”

Mark strutted forward and offered her his arm as he took over the song. “‘Oh, a sunny smile was all she gave to me.’”

She tipped her head and beamed a smile at him while batting her lashes. He hummed the instrumental interlude, and then, as if ten years hadn’t passed, they came in together in perfect harmony. “‘And of course we were as happy as could be.’”

He spun her around, then led her in a prance around the children for the refrain. “‘So neatly I raised my hat.’” He lifted his hat from his head. “‘And made a polite remark.’”

She gazed at him with theatrical adoration. “‘I never shall forget that lovely afternoon . . .’”

“‘. . . When I met her at the fountain in the park.’”

They did a little vaudeville-style dance as Mark whistled the interlude, then took up their parts again for the second verse, alternating lines.

“‘We lingered there beneath the trees.’”

“‘Her voice was like the fragrant breeze.’”

“‘We talked of happy love until the stars above.’”