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Chapter 10
The tensionbetween them hadn’t dissipated after their walk. Azalea had hoped it would, but instead, it had only seemed to increase. They tiptoed around each other, walking on eggshells throughout the rest of the day and all of the next morning. Not that Azalea was trying to do anything different. She’d specifically avoided Jewel by getting up early that morning and helping Eli make breakfast. She’d also avoided direct comments Eli had made, ignoring the probing.
Rain fell gently outside, not one of those thunderstorms that would rattle the rafters, but a gentle consistent rain. It had started sometime in the night and hadn’t let up. The house was decently busy with people, but Azalea had heard the other family saying that they were going to go to town or something that day, which meant she and Jewel would have the entire afternoon to themselves.
Azalea cleaned up from lunch, scrubbing the kitchen so it was immaculate. She didn’t want Eli to think they were slobs, and she wanted to give Eli as much of a break as she possibly could. Yes, she might be a guest, but she still cared for her former student and saw the stress and hard work she was putting into Indigo.
She wrung the sponge in the hot water to rinse it out before she settled it onto the edge of the sink. Drying her hands on the towel hanging off the oven handle, Azalea let out a sigh and put her hands on her hips. She stared out at the empty kitchen. Why was she avoiding Jewel? There had been nothing in their conversation the day before that should have set her off, but something about it, an undercurrent, what hadn’t been said, bothered her.
Reaching into the fridge, she pulled out the open bottle of white she’d brought with her from home. It may only have been just past one in the afternoon on a Tuesday, but she was on vacation, and one drink in the afternoon wouldn’t kill her. Finding a clean glass, she poured and set the half full bottle back in the fridge. She sipped while she walked through the kitchen to the den, finding the book she’d brought down earlier.
Azalea settled into one of the large chairs and closed her eyes, relaxing, book in one hand, wine in the other. What had that undercurrent been? For the last twenty-four hours, she had been trying her damnedest to figure it out, to put her finger on what had been so off about their last conversation. Aside from the fact that they’d been fighting, which they so rarely did, something else was in there.
The Robinsons piled down the stairs and out the front door, saying their goodbyes for the day. Azalea waved at them and watched as they all folded themselves into the tiny sedan and pulled out of the drive. She hoped they didn’t get stuck anywhere in that small vehicle. Driving on the country roads in soaking rain could be quite dangerous.
Azalea opened her book to right where she’d left off. She read the first paragraph of the chapter and stopped. What was Jewel up to? She stared up the stairs from where she could see them, wondering. Was she up there worrying about Azalea’s reaction to Jewel forcing her to come out? Or was it something else?
What else could it be? That they suddenly both thought about the same team? They didn’t even know if they liked the same kind of women. Sighing, Azalea rubbed her eyes and pushed her head against the back of the chair. They hadn’t even talked about it since then. Azalea turned and gazed up the stairs longingly again.
“Where are you, J?”
She hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but the question had so many meanings. Where was she literally? Figuratively? Emotionally? For the first time, they were disconnected. In five years, Azalea had never felt that much space between them. It pained her. She’d been thinking about it all day, yet neither she nor Jewel had made a move to rectify the situation. Intuitively, she knew she was going to have to be the one to do that. Jewel, while a lovely person, was insanely stubborn and if she felt she was wronged, she would wait it out.
The music jarred her out of her reverie. Cocking her head to the side, Azalea listened to the gentle piano playing in the living area. The piano was set over by the fireplace, an upright so it didn’t take up too much space. Closing her eyes, Azalea fell into the tune. She didn’t recognize it, but she was not a musically minded person like Jewel. The melody lifted and fell, it sped up and it slowed down. Azalea felt every beat, every rise and fall of the music as it echoed in her soul.
She focused on the clink of the keys, listening only to the sound as it echoed through the house. She lost herself in it. Was this what Jewel felt every time? If so, Azalea was missing out. She waited until the song was over and Jewel started the next one before she slowly made her way into the living area, leaving her book completely abandoned on the side table.
With the glass held loosely in her hand, she leaned against the dividing wall, watching as Jewel leaned over the keys. Her back was straight, her hands sure as she played. Azalea had never heard her play like this before. She’d seen her direct choirs and bands, and play to show a student something, but never like this.
Jewel was minutes into the next piece before Azalea realized there was no sheet music. She played from memory. Surprised, Azalea watched in admiration and astonishment as Jewel slipped into the next movement, her fingers flying over the keys. The piece was classical, not something Jewel ever seemed to work with at the school or any other time. It was such an odd mixture. Jewel was hardly an old soul or a traditionalist when it came to music—or anything, really.
Yet she was so beautiful. She sat there so regally, so poised to play for hours as if she could never tire of it. Azalea lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip, eyeing Jewel as she moved with the music, her muscles tensing as the piece deepened. When the movement finished, Azalea licked her lips, her heart racing.
Azalea took the first step. She walked across the room slowly and quietly. She stood next to the piano bench and smiled down at Jewel who looked up at her with tears in her eyes. Azalea’s heart broke. She set her glass down on the top of the piano and slipped onto the bench, Jewel scooting so there was room, she wrapped her arms around Jewel’s shoulders and tugged her into a tender and comforting hug.
Running her hands up and down Jewel’s shoulders, she held on tightly. Jewel drew a sharp intake of breath and buried her face in Azalea’s neck. They stayed that way far longer than Azalea had anticipated, and when Jewel finally pulled away, she brushed her hands over her cheeks and refused to look at her.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” Jewel muttered.
Azalea gripped Jewel’s chin lightly and turned her so she could look into those deep brown eyes, eyes that were so beautiful, so full of life and light. “No, tell me. I hate seeing you in this much pain.”
Jewel’s tongue dashed across her lips. Azalea’s heart stuttered. Her breathing quickened. Her gaze locked on those lips, and she had to force herself to look back into those eyes, but Jewel wasn’t looking at her eyes. Jewel’s gaze was locked on Azalea’s mouth, her cheeks reddening, the pink spreading down her neck and chest. Jewel’s lips parted, and she leaned inward.
Azalea panicked.
Now she understood. That look. That gaze. This moment. She found herself moving in before she could stop herself. She slid her gaze down to their laps, placing her hands together in hers. She nodded slowly and closed her eyes, fearful of what Jewel’s expression was going to be. “I think I understand now.”
Jewel gasped. “I didn’t…I don’t…Lea.”
“Don’t,” Azalea said softly. “It’s okay, really. I should have anticipated something like this.”
“Something like what?”
“It’s not uncommon—”
“Jesus, Lea.” Jewel clenched her eyes, the tears suddenly back again.
