“Then clearly you don’t know me as well as you think you do.” He ran his hand along the sleek black lines of wood then feathered his fingertips across every ivory key without making a sound. He loved music, it conveyed emotions much deeper than words.
They both had taken lessons from the tender age of four, yet Jillian had merely managed to butcher each note of every song that was set before her. She practiced. Jackson played.
“Well my Lascivio kit should arrive later today, and I’m watching after Lilith this afternoon, so I think it’s official: We are back to being responsible adults.” Jillian snatched his beer. “Starting now.” She sneaked a swig, then dumped the contents down the drain.
“Buzz kill,” Jackson grumbled. “Did you know some of history’s greatest composers were alcoholics?” He tipped the delivery guys before shutting the front door.
“You’re so full of shit.” Jillian plopped down on the piano bench.
Jackson sat next to her and played “Chasing Cars.” “I’m not. Have I ever steered you wrong?” He smirked.
Of course he’d steered her wrong. That was his favorite game. He believed you could convince people of just about anything as long as it was said with complete and unwavering conviction. Jackson told her it was human nature to doubt oneself, even in matters of factual certainty.
Jillian nudged his shoulder. “It’s the only way you steer me. I have to go. If my Lascivio stuff arrives, stay out.”
Jackson laughed. “I’m not into sex toys.”
“Too intimidating?” She winked, slipping on her shoes. “Vibrator envy?”
Jackson looked down at his fingers as they danced over the keys with effortless grace. “Nah, it just makes me sad for all the women that will stick anything in their pussies.”
Jillian paused before closing the front door. “Huh … interesting. Those are the same words I used to say about all the one-night stands you had over the years.”
Chapter Eight
Beneath the emotional armor of self-preservation, Jillian Knight wore a cloak woven with threads of deep love and compassion. She knew it was there, but she hid it well. All it took to see that intricate fabric of her heart was someone who needed protection more than her. Lilith Kepler was that someone.
“She just ate, but if you wouldn’t mind washing up those few dishes I’d gladly pay you extra.” Dodge slipped on his shoes. “She may need to go to the bathroom and being the stubborn old woman she is, she won’t ask for help but eventually you’ll have to go in there and pull her ass off the toilet. I need to get a rail put up, but I just haven’t yet.”
Jillian sucked her lips in and nodded. She imagined Dodge’s seemingly insensitive persona was nothing more than a mask to hide how much grief he felt for his sick wife. Masks were sometimes necessary. Jillian had many of them.
“Oh, and don’t forget. She’s deaf … mute would have been nice, but I guess we don’t get to make those decisions.” Dodge winked while scratching the bald spot on his head surrounded by a halo of gray hair.
“We’ll be fine and I don’t mind doing the dishes, no need to pay me extra. In fact if you have laundry or some other cleaning you need done, I’d be happy to do it. She doesn’t look too demanding.” Jillian looked over at Lilith in her recliner chair, head bowed into a book.
“She’ll be out before too long. Might want to bookmark her page though, before it falls out of her hands. Pisses her off when she loses her spot. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Dodge gave a final wave before shutting the door.
Jillian inspected the familiar surroundings. Most of the townhomes had a similar floor plan. She was impressed that the Kepler’s was updated with tile, hardwood floors, brushed nickel fixtures, and earth-tone paint on the walls.
Lilith’s eyelids closed, head tilted off to the side. Jillian eased the book out of her hands and slipped the bookmark in place, then draped a blanket over her lap. The T.V. was turned down, closed caption along the bottom of the screen. She grabbed the empty coffee cup on the end table and took it to the kitchen to wash with the rest of the dishes. On the granite bar top was a sliver-framed photo of a dog, a yellow Great Dane with a black mask.
“Pretty dog.” She looked back, not knowing why. Lilith was deaf and sleeping. “I had a dog once.” Jillian began to fill the sink with hot soapy water and the silence with a story. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but…” she shrugged her shoulders “…I think I need to.” She grabbed the sponge and laughed. “I bet you can keep a secret, huh?” She didn’t look back again. Jillian knew Lilith was nothing more than a warm-bodied statue that made her feel as if she wasn’t just talking to herself like Stan did, even if she really was.