Lost Melody Page 23

  She searched his face. What had caused this about-face? “What about your campaign? There’s sure to be media crawling all over the place.”

  A flicker of something crossed his features. Worry? Sorrow? His throat moved as he swallowed. “It’ll work out.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. I thought you didn’t believe in my dream.”

  He ducked his head. “I’ve been thinking about Reverend Hollister’s message yesterday. I did what he said. I asked myself, What is the Lord saying to me? And you know what?”

  Jill hardly dared to breathe. “What?”

  “I think he’s saying, Trust me. And trust in the love I’ve given you for Jill. So, no, at first I didn’t believe in your dream. But now I’ve made the decision to believe.” His gaze softened and his arms came up around her. “And I’ve always believed in you, Jill.”

  Her heart soared heavenward. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a joyful kiss. The truth of his mother’s words resonated through her soul. Surely two people who loved each other this much could overcome anything.

  Chapter 27

  H“AVE YOU GOT EVERYTHING READY to go?” Nana wheeled a gigantic suitcase down the hallway.

  “Just about.” Jill took the bag from her and carried it outside. What did Nana have in here? The thing weighed a ton, and there were already three full boxes loaded into the SUV.

  “Be careful.” Warm light framed Nana in the doorway. “That has my mother’s cut-glass pitcher and bowl set in it.”

  Jill stopped at the bottom of the porch stairs and looked at her grandmother through a curtain of falling snow. “I thought we said — never mind.” She dragged the heavy suitcase through the thick layer of snow that had accumulated on the walkway.

  “As long as we have the room, why not?” Nana called after her. “I’d just hate for anything to happen to it.”

  Earlier today Jill had removed the rear seats of Nana’s SUV so they’d have more room for their valuables. Though Nana and the Sign Brigade had decided to ride in the buses, she insisted that Jill drive her vehicle. Neither hers nor Jill’s had four-wheel drive, but at least the SUV would be weighted down with household items, which would make it safer on snowy roads. She glanced up at the dark sky, and fat snowflakes dusted her face. Greg had called earlier to tell her he was staying the night at the orchard because of the weather, but the weather forecasters said this storm would blow itself out soon. By morning the road crews should have the roads in fairly good shape. At least the snow had driven away the gawkers. Their street was empty.

  With a grunt, she hefted the suitcase into the back and slid it as far forward as it would go. There was still enough room for her big bag and a little space for anything Greg wanted to bring. Initially they’d planned for Mom to ride with Jill, but now that Greg was coming, Mom would ride on the bus with Nana. Despite the snow, warmth flooded through her at the thought of Greg’s visit this afternoon. Smiling, she slammed the rear hatch shut.

  “I’m all set.” Inside, Nana closed the door behind Jill and raised a hand to brush snow out of her hair. “I’ll just throw whatever else I have in my overnight bag and take it with me on the bus.”

  “I’ll get my stuff loaded in a little while. I want to make one more pass through the apartment.”

  “I’m going to bed.” Nana brushed at some snow on Jill’s shoulder before heading toward her bedroom. “Don’t stay up too late. We have a big day tomorrow.”

  Jill chuckled as she climbed the stairs. That probably qualified as the understatement of the century. One way or the other, the day was sure to be eventful.

  Her suitcase weighed a fraction of Nana’s, and still had plenty of empty space. She inspected the contents. Several changes of clothes. A few pieces of jewelry that used to belong to Mom. A photo album with pictures of her childhood before Daddy’s death. Her laptop. What else should she take? Her gaze circled the bedroom but fell on nothing of value, sentimental or otherwise.

  The living room held even fewer items of importance to her. What did she care about television sets or knickknacks? The special Christmas tree ornaments had already been taken from the tree and packed in one of Nana’s boxes. The only thing still in here that had ever meant anything to her was …

  She turned toward the corner where she had spent so many hours. The Schimmel rested in the shadows, its graceful curves somehow expectant. Her piano. She could still remember the thrill of sitting on the bench and playing it for the first time after it had been delivered. How often had this piano accompanied her as she soared into the skies on wings of intricate harmony? How many times had she poured her soul through its ivory keys?

  How could she leave it behind without saying good-bye?

  Almost without thinking, she slid onto the bench. Would she ever see it again after tomorrow? Deep inside, she suspected that she would not. Her constant companion. Her friend.

  Her eyes fluttered closed. God, I want to play. I know it won’t be perfect, but please. Just once more.

  She lifted her hands. Without opening her eyes, her fingers brushed the keys she knew better than she knew her own body. The opening notes of a song seemed to play themselves. Franz Liszt’s Liebestraum. She didn’t stop to consider the selection. Who else would she play but Liszt?

  The abused tendons of her left hand protested the unaccustomed activity, but she continued with ruthless determination. She couldn’t quite make the stretch, and faltered badly several times. It didn’t matter. She was playing, and her soul responded to the music. The harmonics enthralled her, swept her away.

  I’m doing it, God. I’m doing it.

  Tears leaked between her closed lids to run in rivers down her cheeks. She didn’t stop to wipe them away, couldn’t take her hands from the keys. The romantic swells of melody pulled her in and urged her forward, then plunged her beneath a thunderous waterfall of pure joy. She welcomed the flood, embraced it, and let it wash away the grime of tragedy she had collected over the past year.

  Not until the piece ended did she open her eyes. Her soul vibrated within her, sparkling and clean and refreshed with awe from the gift she’d been given. Robert had been right. God hadn’t taken away her music after all. It had been there all along, just waiting for her to have enough faith to touch the piano again.

  “Thank you, God.” Her whisper caressed the air as moments before her fingers had caressed the Schimmel’s keys. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 28

  Tuesday, December 6

  At seven fifty-five, Jill parked the SUV on the curb, behind three huge buses that lined the street in front of Harbor Square. Despite her and Nana’s request, the nursing home staff did not have Mom ready to leave when she arrived at seven. Though frustrated, Jill had calmly requested the help of an aide to get her mother dressed.

  The tight-lipped nurse responded, “We’re short staffed today. You’ll have to do it yourself.”

  Jill did, wondering if the aides had all called in sick so they could join the evacuation.

  She switched off the vehicle’s engine and peered at the woman in the passenger seat. “We’re here, Mom.”

  Mom was having a good day, despite the rocky beginning. She’d enjoyed the short drive over, watching the sights through the window with more attention than Jill had seen her display for days. At the moment, she stared through the windshield at the activity in the small community park. Her expression displayed, if not comprehension, at least interest.

  Jill followed her gaze. The scene in Harbor Square was certainly interesting.

  A mob double the size of the one at the press conference crowded the small square. An invisible barrier divided them. Signs floated high above the heads of both halves. On one side she spotted, “Evacuate the Crazies from Seaside Cove,” and others with similar sentiments. Wincing, she tore her gaze from them. The crowd on the other side of the park included the man with dreadlocks who had made the front page of the Metro News this morning. His sign, waving prou
dly above his head, proclaimed the end of the world at 10:05 this morning. Police officers paced between the two groups. Two white vans sporting the logos from CBC and CTV Halifax, both with satellite-shaped antennae sprouting from the top, had actually pulled up on the sidewalk, and she caught a glimpse of a giant video camera weaving its way through the crowd. Apparently, the news had decided to go for live coverage of the event.

  A small group separated themselves from the supporters and approached the SUV, Nana’s shining red head among them.

  “Here’s Nana, Mom.”

  Jill stepped out of the vehicle and the Sign Brigade rushed to circle her, their excited chatter a jumble of words.

  “Guess what?” Mrs. Fontaine elbowed Mrs. Cramer out of the way and planted herself in front of Jill. “My son and daughter-in-law took the kids out of school for the day and went to Halifax.”

  “You mean they finally came around?” Considering Becky’s abrupt removal of Kaylee from piano lessons, Jill could hardly believe the woman had changed her mind.

  Mrs. Fontaine clasped her hands, eyes gleaming. “No, of course not. They tried to tell me they’d planned this day as a family outing for weeks, but I know better. They’re not willing to risk us being right, but they don’t want to admit it.”

  “I suspect a lot of people have done the same,” Mrs. Montgomery said. “They believed us, but they don’t want to become targets. The cowards.”

  A smirk settled on Mrs. Cramer’s face. “My family is all here.” She waved a hand behind her, toward the crowd.

  “How did it go at the nursing home?” Nana peered through the window, where Mom sat in the passenger seat watching them.

  Jill grimaced. “Don’t ask.”

  She got the wheelchair out of the back and wheeled it around to the door while Nana helped Mom out of the car. When she was seated, Jill straightened and scanned the crowd.

  “Where’s Greg?” She’d expected him to be here already.

  “I haven’t seen him.” Nana busied herself tucking a warm blanket around Mom’s legs. None of the other ladies would meet her gaze.

  Worry nibbled at her mind like a mouse on a piece of cheese. Had something happened to him? An accident, maybe? Or what if he changed his mind? A sick feeling settled in her stomach.

  “I’d better call him.”

  She leaned into the SUV and grabbed her purse, then fished out her cell phone. The screen informed her that she’d missed a call from Greg. He must have called while she was inside the nursing home. With trembling fingers, she punched in the numbers to listen to his message.

  “Hey, beautiful.” At the sound of his voice, some of the tension left her knotted muscles. “The roads are awful out near the orchard. I’m going to be later than I thought. It’ll probably be nine thirty before I get there, and then I need to take care of something quick. But don’t worry. I’ll meet you at Harbor Square into time to get out … own … by ten.” Static interrupted, and broke up the rest of the message. “… charger at home … battery … then …” The message ended.

  “Greg’s going to be a little late.” She slipped the phone back into her purse.

  Concern drew deep creases in Nana’s forehead. “We can’t hold up the buses. Call him back and tell him you’ll meet him in Halifax.”

  “I can’t. I think his battery died at the end of the message.” She poured confidence into her smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll follow you as soon as he gets here. Now let’s get Mom on the bus before she gets chilled.”

  Nana didn’t look convinced, but she wheeled her daughter toward the front bus, which had been fitted with a ramp. The driver wheeled her inside and helped Jill secure the chair in a special section on the front row designed for wheelchairs. When she was settled, Jill arranged the blanket snugly around her legs, then squatted down on her haunches so she could look into Mom’s face.

  “There. You’re all set. I’ll see you at the mall in a couple of hours. You can help me pick out Nana’s Christmas present.”

  She started to rise, but Mom’s right hand shot out toward her. It waved erratically for a few seconds before coming to rest on Jill’s arm. Fingers clutched at her coat sleeve.

  Startled, Jill looked into her mother’s face. “What is it, Mom?”

  Her lips moved, but no sound came out. The eyes closed for a second, then opened again. Intensity gleamed in their brown depths as she tried again.

  “Tthhhhhaaaank ooo.”

  The whisper came out harsh, and it was the most beautiful music Jill had ever heard. Emotion clogged her throat as tears rushed to her eyes. She knew. The moments of clarity may be few, but Jill was grateful that this was one. She gathered her mother into a hug.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  If only she could stay and prolong this moment. But the minutes were ticking away, and there weren’t that many left. She wiped away tears as she descended the bus steps to the street.

  “All right, everybody!” Nana’s bellow projected over the noise of the crowd and echoed off the side of the brick building at the far end of Harbor Square. “We’re ready to load.”

  A cheer went up from the evacuees, and was matched by jeers and boos from the protesters’ side of the park. Photographers rushed to the buses ahead of the others and positioned their cameras to broadcast the sight of people boarding. The Sign Brigade divided themselves into three pairs and took up sentry duty by each bus.

  Mrs. Tolliver beamed like a gray-headed lighthouse and waved her hands above her head. “Over here to my bus, everyone! I brought games to play on the road.”

  Mrs. Mattingly rolled her eyes heavenward.

  “Ms. King!”

  A child’s shout drew Jill’s attention to the line of people ready to board the bus on the end. She picked out Mariah standing beside her mother and a man who bore a startling resemblance to Mrs. Cramer. She returned the child’s wave.

  A few people ahead of the Cramers, another familiar face looked her way. Jill’s mouth fell open when her gaze connected with Doreen’s. The therapist gave a sheepish smile and a slight shrug, then hefted a small suitcase and climbed on board.

  “Jill, look who’s here.” Nana’s voice drew her attention to the line nearest her.

  She stood beside Reverend and Mrs. Hollister.

  Jill went to shake their hands. “Reverend, don’t you have a car?”

  “Yep.” His eyes twinkled. “I just wanted to join in the fun.”

  Jill’s delighted laughter rang in the cold morning air. “Well, we’re glad to have you along. We sure could use your prayers today.”

  “Already done, my dear.” He patted her hand before releasing it. “Already done.”

  With a wide smile for the hovering television camera, Reverend Hollister disappeared into the bus.

  Loading took longer than expected. Nana marched between the buses barking like a drillmaster, to the delight of the media. Judging by the way she paused every so often to turn a broad smile toward the cameras, she didn’t mind one bit. Jill did her best to ignore them. Though they prodded her with questions and thrust cameras in her face, she remained tight-lipped. She’d already said everything she needed to say. Eventually they gave up.

  By the time every evacuee found a seat and got their belongings settled, the clock read almost nine o’clock. Nana, wearing a worried frown, hurried across the street to where Jill stood beside the loaded SUV.

  “Are you sure it’s wise to wait for Greg? What if he doesn’t come?”

  The same thought had occurred to Jill several times. She’d listened to his message a second time, just to reassure herself, but worry nagged at her. What if he had car trouble and couldn’t get word to her?

  “He’ll come.” She poured more confidence into her voice than she felt. “I’ll meet you at the mall.”

  With obvious reluctance, Nana hugged her and climbed onto the front bus. Jill waved as the buses pulled away, leaving the air full of exhaust fumes. Hands waved back from dozens of windows.

  Wh
en they were lost from view, the media cameras turned toward her. Jill ducked into the SUV and locked the doors before they could approach. Greg wouldn’t arrive for half an hour, but she couldn’t wait here or they’d plague her the entire time. As she pulled away from the curb, the crowd of protesters began to wander away in twos and threes.

  She followed the bus route to the main intersection of Harbor and Elm. There she sat at a stoplight and watched the progress as they curved around the wide bay that marked the south end of town. A heavy wind off the main harbor whipped the waters against the giant black rocks that lined the semicircular shore. Spray rose in the air like a thousand fountains. When the buses turned away from the bay at the far end, it looked as if they were disappearing behind a moving wall of mist.

  The traffic light changed, but Jill didn’t take her foot off the brake. What to do for half an hour? She didn’t want to go home. She’d said her good-byes there. Either she’d see Nana’s house tonight, or she wouldn’t.

  A car behind her honked. She made a snap decision and took her foot off the brake. The lighthouse stood sentinel over the northern edge of town. Before the accident she used to go there and sit on the rocks, watching the ships go by on their way to and from Halifax Harbor. She’d never learned to swim. While all the other kids her age had been swimming and fishing and otherwise enjoying the benefit of living near the ocean, she’d devoted her time to practicing her piano. But that didn’t stop her from losing herself in the mesmerizing motion of the constantly moving water. That’s what she’d do. The lighthouse was a great place to think.

  Greg parked his car outside the café and gathered the papers he’d gotten from his office on the way into town. Icy roads had taken much longer to navigate than he thought, and he was late. If he hadn’t called Rowe and the others last night to arrange this meeting, he would have left without following through with his plan. But it was important that he do it today, now, before he left town. It was the statement he wanted to make.

  As he jogged toward the door, he passed what he at first thought was an empty car. At the same moment he recognized Pat Allen in the passenger seat, Carl rounded the corner from the front of the building.