The Musician (Emerson Pass Historicals 5) - Page 14

“Yes, isn’t that what you’d have me do?” Her pink mouth twisted and twitched, as if the muscles couldn’t decide which way to go.

“What else is there?”

“To do? Or why did I come?” Tears glistened in her eyes. She pressed her lips together for a moment before speaking. “Never mind, I came by to tell you I’m leaving early next week for New York and then taking the ship to Europe.”

“You’re going then?”

“Yes, I’ve decided to go. Papa’s decided he’d like to take Mama and me. I wanted to say goodbye, obviously. But also, I wanted to remind you that I’ll not be available for the dance this weekend.”

We were supposed to play at the dance in town. I had forgotten. I’d forgotten everything in my grief.

“That’s all right,” I said. “I’ll think of something.” What would it be? Without Fiona, I was only half of a duo, a melody without a chorus. A band without its singer.

“Well, anyway, goodbye, Li. I’ll see you when I return.”

“When will that be?”

“I’m not sure. Six months? A year? It will depend.”

On what? I didn’t ask. My chest hurt so badly that my next breath pained me. “You’ll do very well. I’m proud of you.”

“I’ll do my best, as I always do.” This time a real smile lifted her mouth but did not change the dullness in her eyes.

“I’m in awe of you, as I’ve always been.” If it had not been for Fiona, so much younger than I, would I be the musician I was today? From the start, she’d been disciplined and loyal to the piano as one would be to a dear friend. Her practice regimen had inspired me and yes, triggered a competitive streak in me. Although she would never admit it, her singing ability made her so much more of a sought-after commodity. The good people of America loved their popular songs with all the words and music flowing together into a story. My voice was terrible.

“Papa’s wanted to visit England for some time now. It’s a good reason to make the long trek.”

“Yes, and the little girls are old enough to stay with Lizzie now,” I said. I was babbling, buying time. If my yearning for her to stay had power over ugly reality, she would be beside me, clinging to me as I clung to her. Not parted. Not ever. “It’s good you’ve decided to go,” I said. “You’ll be safe traveling with your parents, so I shall not worry.” I gripped the edge of the door.

“Well, I must go. I’ve loads to do before leaving.”

A prickle of panic swept along my scalp. “Of course.”

She turned to go but seemed to change her mind at the last second. “You must think me a silly little fool to have believed you might love me.” Her voice, usually robust and resonant, was breathy and childlike. An image of her as a little girl with her big bow tied in her dark curls came to me. She’d once been just that, little Fiona. But now, God, she was my whole world.

I loved her with every part of my soul, for all time. Not saying so was proof how much. “You’ll meet someone wonderful.”

“I don’t care if I do. I’ll have music and my family. It will be enough.” She lifted her chin, bravely. My Fiona. My heart. She held out her hand. “Goodbye, Li.”

I shook her small delicate hand and took one last look into her blue eyes. “Best of luck.”

She nodded. “Please say goodbye to Mrs. Wu for me.”

“I’ll do that.”

She touched the brim of her hat and then turned to go. Her skirts rustled ever so slightly, and then she was crossing over the snowy yard to her car in short, graceful strides. For a second, I rested my forehead against the doorframe.

But no, I couldn’t watch her drive away. I went back into the house, afraid I might be sick. Leaning against the closed door, I drew in deep breaths to steady myself.

“If you love her, then pray for her.” Grandmother stood in the doorway between the kitchen and sitting room. “You’re doing the right thing—letting her go. There are certain times in our lives when we must sacrifice for those we love. Unselfish love is perhaps the deepest kind. She’ll return soon enough anyway.”

“Yes, Grandmother. Thank you.”

She turned away, hobbling back to the kitchen table.

I knelt on my knees in front of the fireplace and whispered a prayer. “Please keep Fiona safe from harm. Please send her the man who will make her forget all about me. And please, I humbly ask, take away this pain in my chest. Give me strength to find my way without her.”

Tags: Tess Thompson Emerson Pass Historicals Historical
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