I chuckled, shaking my head. “Sorry, no. I had an appointment in town and thought I might lure Emma away for a late lunch or something.”
“Ah, well, that’s our loss. And Emma’s not working today—she ended up being here for almost forty-eight hours straight with a patient in crisis. I think she said she was going to Anna and Jimmy’s farm to help Anna with the canning.”
“Oh.” I wrinkled my nose. “Dang. Well, it was worth a shot, I guess.”
“You should go out and surprise her. She’d be tickled—and so would Anna.” Mira smiled broadly. “You might get drafted into making jam and canning fruit, though. You’ve been warned.”
“That sounds like a lot of fun, actually. Maybe I’ll do that.” I hesitated, looking down the hall. “In some ways, it feels like ages since I’ve been here—and in others, it’s like I’ve never left.”
“I know what you mean. We’ve made some changes—positive ones, I think. Oh, have you seen our new music room? That was finished and dedicated after you left.”
“Music room?” I tilted my head.
“Yes—look, it’s right down here.” She led me down a short corridor that I wasn’t sure had existed when I’d worked here. “It was something Emma spearheaded, but it was made possible by a very generous donation from Noah Spencer. When his wife Angela was being treated here, Emma used a form of music therapy to help her get through chemo and stem cell transplant treatments. So now we have a dedicated soundproof room with a state-of-the-art sound system, instruments, a karaoke machine . . . the patients love it.”
Mira opened the door, and I leaned in to take a look. The room was bright, with walls painted in primary colors and several wide windows letting in the sunshine. There were chairs that looked comfortable, a small platform with a microphone, and shelves of instruments.
Just inside the door, I saw a small brass placard.
The Angela Rone Spencer Music Therapy Room
Dedicated to the memory of a woman
who brought love and laughter into every life she touched
“What a beautiful way to honor her memory,” I murmured, brushing my fingers over the raised lettering.
“She was a beautiful woman,” Mira replied, her voice gruff with emotion. “Over the years, you see so many patients . . . well, you know how it is. Once they either pass on or get well, we don’t see them again, and all of our energy and attention is directed to the next ones. But a precious few never really leave you. They affect us so deeply that we keep a piece of them with us always. That was Angela Spencer.”
I thought about this woman who had left such a deep and lasting impression on so many people I knew. I wondered, not for the first time, how Noah could ever get over her. Would it really be possible for him to love anyone again?
And did it even matter to me if he never spoke to me again?
* * *
Anna and Jimmy Girard,Deacon’s grandparents, lived on a large family farm a few miles outside of Harper Springs. Their property jutted against the land that Emma had bought when she moved down here, and now that Emma and Deacon were living in her cabin, I knew that they loved being closer to the older couple.
I’d been to the farm often when I lived in Harper Springs because while we were building Emma’s cabin, Anna and Jimmy had helped us and frequently fed us at their kitchen table, too. The old farmhouse was the most comfortable, most welcoming home I’d ever known.
So I didn’t feel the least bit uncomfortable to park on the side of the house and push open the kitchen door, calling as I did.
“Hello! I’m here to volunteer as a taste-tester.”
“And just in time!” Drying her hands on her apron, Anna hustled over to me, drawing me into a tight hug. “Look at you. You’re beautiful.” She held my chin in her hand, smiling into my eyes. “You’re practically glowing.”
My cheeks flushed, and I turned my head to glare at Emma, who only shrugged.
“Sorry. I don’t keep secrets from my husband, and if I can help it, I don’t keep them from my gram-in-law, either.”
“It’s all right, honey.” Anna patted my back. “I’m like a vault. I don’t gossip, and I’ve got broad shoulders if you need to cry on one.”
“Thank you, Anna.” I dropped my handbag onto a nearby chair. “Truth is, I was going to tell you today, anyway.”
“What brings you out here to the country?” Emma flickered a glance at me as she sliced berries.
“I had an appointment with Maggie. My midwife.” It sounded so odd to say that out loud, almost as though I was trying on someone else’s life. “I stopped at the oncology wing, and Mira told me where you were. I hope you don’t mind me chasing you down.”
“Of course not. I’m glad you came. We can definitely use the help.” Emma set down her knife and reached into a drawer, pulling out a faded flower apron and tossing it to me. “Here you go. Suit up.”
