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Emily thought back to what David had said. “Maybe you helped her feel like she wasn’t getting older.”
Mark chuckled. “That’s what her husband says.”
Emily nodded vaguely, praying her expression stayed neutral. What would he think if he found out she knew David?
She should tell him about it so he could go ahead and reject her and end things before they began.
But she didn’t want it to be over.
It will be sooner than later.
“You should take the violin home and practice. It’ll take a bit, but I have every confidence you’ll get your fingers back.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open and she stared. “You want me to take your violin?”
He nodded. “I don’t play it anymore. I can’t. People criticize me if I play on anything except a named one.” He shrugged. “It deserves to be played.”
“I can’t do that... I can’t take your violin...”
“Actually...” He stood and walked to the cabinet again and pulled something off the top shelf. He returned to the couch, holding several tall, thin books. “Here. My old music books. Take them with you so you have something to practice. There are technical books as well as etudes. And a fingering chart in one of them so you can remember.”
Emily stared at the stack of books Mark had thrust into her hands and blinked away tears. “You’re so kind, Mark.” She shook her head and handed the books back to him. “But if Geoffrey—my boss—found these, or your violin, he would destroy them.”
“Really?”
She nodded.
He scrunched his face, looking thoughtful, then smiled. “Then you’ll just have to come over here and practice.”
She stared. “You can’t be serious.”
“If you can’t practice at your place, you’ll have to go somewhere you can practice.” He took her hands. “You have to play again, Emily. Don’t let them win.”
She stared at him, feeling his words in her heart. She didn’t want Rafael and her father to win. Would playing again be a win for them? She supposed, either way, they won. But after holding Mark’s violin, playing it. Oh, it felt so good. And it didn’t hurt. Well, except her de-callused fingers.
“I work in the evenings though.”
“So come over during the day.”
“You have rehearsal.”
“Only Tuesday and Thursday from now on. In a few weeks, it’ll change to just the week before a concert. You can come when I’m not here, though, if it works better for your schedule.”
“Why are you doing this?”
He gave a small shrug. “Honestly? I don’t know. I... I want to hear you play again. And others should hear what only a few have ever been able to hear.”
“But, Mark... You’re Mark Pierce... What does it matter what I do? I’m never going to—”
“If I have anything to say about it, you will play professionally.”
“You have no idea if I’ll be able to playMary Had a Little Lamb, let alone... Tchaikovsky.”
“I believe in you.”
The confidence in his eyes made Emily’s heart ache. Mark believed she could, but was his belief in her enough? She blew out a shallow breath. “I’ll try.” He beamed and she knit her brows together. “I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
“You won’t.” He smiled. “And of course, I’ll help in any way I can.”
