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Jared stayed.
Eventually, the sing-along ended. A man who introduced himself as the mayor stepped up to the microphone and publicly thanked Emma for pitching in to help. A practiced performer, she took her bows. As the audience filed out of the auditorium, she turned back to the piano and started to stack the sheet music. Acting instinctively, Jared said, “Taking requests?”
Again, she showed him that smile, and Jared’s sense of goodwill intensified. “What would you like to hear?”
“The Schumann.”
She hesitated, and he thought she was going to refuse. But then she closed her eyes, and her fingers began to move. The sound of “Träumerei” rose and filled his heart and soul, and as he watched her sway and move with the passion of the piece, his blood heated.
Her eyes opened. Their gazes met and held. It was a dance they’d performed time and time again. It was their dance.
Time hung suspended. He didn’t see the stragglers in the audience being hurried along toward the reception in the gymnasium on the other side of the school by Celeste and Molly. He didn’t realize the house lights had dimmed or that he and Emma were alone together. He was aware only of the music, the heavy-lidded warmth in Emma’s eyes, and the yearning that filled him.
He wished the song could last forever, but the piece progressed to its inevitable end. Emma closed her eyes and played the final bars. As the last note echoed through the auditorium and died away, Jared felt as if he stood on a precipice.
Three little words floated through his mind. Was it too late? What would happen if he said them? Did he want to sayEmma come home?
He hesitated too long, and Emma broke the spell. Standing, she picked up her purse. “It’s been a long day, and I’m tired. I think I’ll skip the reception and head back to Angel’s Rest. Good night, Jared.”
She was almost to the door before he found his voice. “Thank you, Emma. For the song.”
She paused. “I enjoyed playing for you.”
As her footsteps faded, Jared released a heavy, sad sigh. He and Emma had just said their goodbyes.
* * *
As Christmas approached, Molly grew both more excited and more despairing. She loved all the hustle and bustle surrounding the holiday and wedding preparations. She hated how her mom and dad managed to participate in the said hustle and bustle and yet seldom interacted. She guessed that this was what she had to look forward to from now on, where her parents were concerned.
They weren’t happy. Maybe divorce really was the right thing for them. This state of suspension wasn’t good for anybody. Seeing them together but still apart hurt Molly’s heart. Maybe she’d made a mistake asking for one last family Christmas. Maybe she and Mason should have eloped.
A knock on the door of her room at Angel’s Rest interrupted her brooding. “Come in.”
The door cracked open, and her dad stuck his head inside. “Hey, sweetheart. Got a little time for your old man?”
“Sure. I don’t meet Mason for another twenty minutes.” She and the Malones had reservations for an afternoon sleigh ride around Hummingbird Lake.
Her father entered the room carrying a shopping bag filled with packages wrapped in Christmas paper. “Can I get you to do a favor for me, Molly?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
He held up the bag. “These are for your mother. They’ve piled up over the past few years, and I’d like you to give them to her for me.”
Molly straightened in alarm. “You’re not leaving, are you? You’ll be here for Christmas?”
“Yes. I promised you I’d be here, and I’m not going to weasel out.”
“Then why don’t you give her the gifts?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think it’s appropriate at this point.”
“Why not? What are they?”
“Just some things I thought she could use.”
“But, Dad, I don’t understand. Are you not going to give her a Christmas gift this year?”
“I’m going to give her a gift,” he said with a scowl. “Just not these gifts.”
