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Janet, our live-in housekeeper, was in the foyer, and she wasn’t alone.
“Thank you,” I heard Aspen Davis say before accepting a black jacket from Janet. I’d been striding down the staircase from the second floor, and both Janet and Aspen glanced my way when I made it downstairs.
“Mr. Reed,” Janet said, nodding, and I gave her a curt nod in return. “Miss Davis forgot her jacket.”
Already having noticed the exchange, I tipped a nod in Aspen’s direction too. She held her jacket, a small smile on her face, and Janet ended up excusing herself. Perhaps, she noticed I lingered, and I did want to speak to Aspen.
“How are you doing?” I asked her, but not just because she’d hired my company in the past. I was human and asked on a human level. She and my son had been through hell today.
“Doing as well as I can,” she said, and I could only imagine. She bunched her jacket in her hands. “I wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for Thatcher.”
Her statement sobered me to the fact that he’d been there, that my son had been in the line of fire, and of course, I knew that. I did, and every time I thought about it, the man who threatened him...
“You don’t know how grateful I am that you’re both okay. That you’re both safe…” I said and realized when I felt my insides coiling that I needed to excuse myself. My usual walk of the property should do it to calm this down a bit, my insides. I’d already done my rounds, but I’d do it again. I’d do it a dozen times if I had to.
I wished Aspen good evening, but she called me.
“Mr. Reed, I,” she started, bunching her jacket again. She braced it so hard before looking at me. “I can’t tell you how much your son means to me. What he did for me…”
I lost her voice in the evening air, and suddenly, she touched her eyes. There was a shine there that she didn’t bother squeezing out. Not everyone hid their emotions. Not like me, and I admired people who didn’t. It was another kind of bravery I didn’t always have.
“He’s done so much, and I—” She paused, then finally glanced up. “But you know, don’t you? What he did back then? Everything with the cabin and everything…”
“The cabin?” I questioned, curious about her bringing that up, the past, and she blinked, gasped. She backed up, and when tears started to leave her eyes, I stepped forward. “Aspen, what do you mean? The cabin? What about it?”
“I just meant that…” She pressed her jacket to her mouth, shaking her head. She gasped again before blinking down more tears. She swallowed. “I just want you to know your son is the best person I’ve ever known.”
She left me with those words before she scooted off. The door breezed open, and I followed just long enough to see her dash down to her waiting ride. Her mother was in the front seat, and after Aspen was inside the car, the window went down.
Ms. Davis lifted her hand. “Good night, Mr. Reed. Thank you so much for this evening. I’ll never be able to thank your son for what he did. Truly, I’m so grateful.”
She squeezed her daughter’s shoulder, but Aspen only gave a small smile at me before gazing ahead. She took in a harsh breath, and soon, her mother was driving her off.
They were both right about my son, about his character. My son was also one of the best people I’d ever known. He was better than me. Stronger.
And it was time he knew that.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-TWO
Thatcher
A creak in the floorboards caused me to turn on my grandma’s piano bench.
I sat up as my father entered the room. I didn’t know how I’d ended up in the parlor of my parents’ house that night, my hands on piano keys. I hadn’t started to play anything yet, even though I knew this room was soundproof and wouldn’t bother anyone with it being so late. I put my hands in my lap. “Dad?”
He said nothing as he came over, still dressed from dinner in a sweater and dress pants. I guessed he hadn’t gone to bed yet, and I hadn’t either, still in my hoodie and jeans.
I remained silent when he took the space beside me on Gram’s piano bench. There was surprisingly enough room considering how large we both were. Dad lifted his hands, placing them on the keys, and my breath stopped when he started to play.
I hadn’t heard him play in years.
Gram had taught us both, of course. She’d taught the whole house outside of my mom. Music wasn’t really Mom’s thing, but my sister and I knew how to play and, of course, my dad. He played a familiar duet, and since I knew it, I joined in. He’d motioned for me to do so.
It was easy.
My fingers touched the keys lightly, complementing his. We both could have played louder, and the song called for it, but we stayed timid on the keys. Maybe because the hour was late, but I kind of loved that we were. It was like we were both here in this confined space of the music we played. I wasn’t much of a musician, not like Snowflake. It was something I’d done to bond with my gram, and I bet my dad would make the same claim, but in that moment, I got why Aspen did what she did for a living. Why music was her chosen field. It made you feel some kind of way and doing this with my dad…
