That smile was dangerous. Her laughter was a threat. In training, his superiors had drilled the stupidity of entertaining atendrefor an asset or target. He’d always been so sure he was immune to such things. Now...
Here he was, turned to mush by a smile of all things. It wouldn’t do. However, itwouldserve his purpose to keep the camaraderie flowing. So he returned her smile with a small one of his own. Not that she could see it. But Melanie could. “They sound like wonderful people. I’d love to meet them someday.”
Her eyes lost their sparkle, and her smile faded.
Uh-oh. Perhaps he’d pushed too far. But that was what he did. He was good at it. As an agent, it was easy to be unattached and emotionless.
Her chin trembled the tiniest bit. “They were killed on my birthday twenty years ago.”
Sudden silence seemed to suck all the air out of the vehicle. Now he’d done it. “I’m so sorry. I—”
Melanie shook her head at him, and he clamped his mouth shut.
He took a sip of water out of his canteen, and it felt like his swallow echoed inside the small space of the vehicle, which seemed to grow smaller by the second. The death of her parents had been in Chaisley’s file. Bringing them up was exactly what he should have done. To test her. Find out everything he could.
So why did he feel like a terrible man now? Like he’d betrayed her.
Melanie began to put away things in the picnic basket while Chaisley’s face was turned toward the window. The ever-properassistant cleared her throat. “We should probably get back on the road so we don’t arrive too late. I know we will need our rest tonight.”
Rick tidied up the front seat, glancing back at the pianist. Her profile was still lovely ... but so sad. Then she leaned her forehead against the window and closed her eyes.
She’d lost her parents twenty years ago, so she’d been just a child. How had she endured that loss at such a young age? And being blind on top of it all? He dusted crumbs off his slacks. It was hard to imagine.
He’d been in his early twenties when he lost his parents. It hadn’t been easy to survive without them. He rubbed his chest, trying to erase the ache.
It didn’t work. He did a mental shake of his thoughts. This wasn’t personal. He was doing his job. That was all.
Still, he couldn’t dislodge the feeling that he’d purposefully opened a wound and poured salt into it.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, Rick.” Chaisley’s tone was sharp. “I can practically feel it oozing off of you. I don’t need your pity.”
He jerked back, her words ringing through him as if she’d slapped him. Who’d said anything about pity? “I’m sorry. I was thinking how hard it was to lose my own parents and thought of you and—”
“I had two wonderful parents who God gave me for a short time. Then two incredible people stepped in as my guardians. One, you’ve met. My grandmother. And then I had Mary Beth—Melanie’s mother—and my dear friend here. I’ve been blessed by so much more than others who are less fortunate that it is insulting to have you feel sorry for me.” Her face was still aimed toward the window, but her words were firm.
“My apologies. Please forgive me.”
“You are forgiven.”
He frowned. It sure didn’t sound like it. He looked in the rearview mirror.
Chaisley relaxed and leaned back against the seat. “I’m a bit tired, so I’ll think I’ll try to rest now.”
Rick didn’t respond—he put the car in gear and steered them back onto the road.
It was going to be a long ride in the silence.
Austria—Wednesday, April 6, 1938
The crowd burst to applause after her opening piece—her latest composition. Warmth uncurled in her chest. It didn’t matter how long she played and performed, the anticipation of premiering a new piece ate at her until she finished playing it for the first time.
The cheers erased weeks of fretting. Their adoration washed over her, and she reveled in it. But only for a moment. Then she stood, gripping the rounded edge of the piano, and took a deep bow. It was impossible to take in all of the cheering. The roar of the crowd with thousands of voices on different pitches and high, shrill whistles.
Thank You, Lord, for a successful evening.
Yes, this crowd loved her talent. Praised it to the skies. But it meant nothing without the One who gave it to her. He deserved the praise. That reminder helped to keep her pride in check.
Most of the time.
