A Change of Plans (6 page)

“With Elle as your witness, you’ll never do that again?”

“Never again.” He blinked as though something occurred to him. “Unless you ask me to.”

I spun away, but he grabbed my arm. When I moved to pin his hand to my elbow in the beginnings of a joint lock, he jerked it out of my reach. “Okay. Never.”

At Elle’s encouraging glance, I gave in. “Apology accepted.”

With a grin, he bowed and left us.

Elle nudged my shoulder with hers. “See, that wasn’t so hard.” She slid her arm through mine. “Let’s go see if we can convince the dance teacher to let us merge hip-hop and hula for Jimmy’s talent show.”

A
NEED FOR
solitude drew me to a window nook in the ship’s library. Hidden from most of the other occupants, I squished a soft cushion behind my back and tried to settle into reading.

For nearly a year, I had looked forward to this uncomplicated cruise, excited to have time to be at sea, read, and visit places I had always wanted to see. Elle thought the temporary nature of the cruise would make for a perfect dating environment. No risk of involvement. But I had vowed I would not consider it until I got past the first anniversary.

I don’t know how long I had been staring at the water when I heard someone sit at the piano just around the corner from my nook. I pinched my lips. I would have to move if the player was too distracting.

Because of the way the nook was situated, I couldn’t see the person who began to play finger drills. Great. Not exactly music to read by. I picked up my book and tried to find where I had left off, hoping to ignore the sound.

After going through several drills, the player went into the insane fingering of the beginning of Chopin’s
Fantaisie-Impromptu.
This was no kid practicing scales.

When I was eight, I had sat beside my father in the Boettcher Concert Hall in Denver. The special guest was a world-renowned performer, and she had played this song. Her fingers had flown across the keys, and I had determined then and there I would be able to play it someday.

I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning against the window, the glass cool against my cheek. My hands automatically picked out the notes as I accompanied the unknown player on my imaginary piano.

When the number ended, I considered clapping, but the pianist went right into one of my favorite New Age pieces. I thought of how Braedon’s long, graceful fingers had clasped around my waist. He would have great hands for playing the piano. A little shiver sent goose bumps along my arms and up my neck. It couldn’t be ....

I peeked around the corner.

CHAPTER 6

I
WONDERED HOW
he had learned to play like that with everything else he’d had to do as a kid. And it had to be the piano, one of my great loves. I leaned my chin against my raised knees. I could just see him around the nook wall.

Braedon focused on playing and didn’t appear to notice me. I played several instruments, though only the piano and guitar well. I found pleasure in the piano, and when I’d had a bad day, I would play to relieve my stress. As I watched him, I thought perhaps Braedon did too. His face in this private moment made me feel like I had captured a glimpse of his soul. I was fascinated.

When he finished, I leaned forward enough to be seen. “That was lovely.”

He started at the sound of my voice and snapped his head in my direction.

I smiled. “You need a small orchestra to bring out the full depth of that piece. Nice interpretation, though.”

He twisted on the bench. “Do you play?”

“I work at a small school, so I teach both music and
science. I teach band, orchestra, music theory, and I’m the choir director.”

Braedon grinned. “Do you know any duets?”

I snorted. “Not from memory. Well, ‘Chopsticks’ and ‘Heart and Soul’ are two pieces I do know how to play.”

“Wait a minute.” He rose from the piano bench and approached the librarian.

The crewmember went to a locked cabinet and handed him a stack of sheet music after taking his ship card in exchange. He riffled through the sheets as he ambled back, and I moved to the piano.

He scanned a piece of music. “How familiar are you with Mozart?”

“For four hands?” I tried to read the title upside down.

Our eyes met over the music, and he quirked an eyebrow. “That is the nature of a duet.”

I scowled, almost sticking my tongue out at him. “I’m familiar with the piece, but it’s fast to sight read.”

“Want to give it a try?” His eyes dared me to say no.

He had been a good sport earlier, so I moved over to the piano bench. “I get the easy part.”

Braedon pulled out a second piece. “Here’s Brahms’s Hungarian Dance no. 1 in G Minor for Piano, Four Hands, if you prefer.”

I looked over his arm at the page as he read through the music. “I haven’t tried this one in a long time.” I ran my fingers over the keys. “If we do this one, I claim the secundo part.”

After a couple of false starts, I relaxed. Braedon didn’t play it flawlessly either, which gave me more confidence. When we were done, we tried the Mozart piece, but I gave up. “I need to practice this one by myself. I’m not up to it.”

He took the stack of music and went through it again.

“Look.” He turned the piece so I could see it—a ragtime duet of “Cantina Band” from
Star Wars.
“We have to give this one a try.” He set it on the holder.

I was more than familiar with this piece because two of my students had performed it this year, and I had learned it while helping them. Most of it was really only three hands, but it was quirky and fun. We were both laughing by the end.

As we rose, I blinked, surprised to find Elle and her group standing behind us. Braedon slipped away to return the music.

Jimmy rushed forward. “Why didn’t you tell me you could play the piano? I need a keyboardist.”

“You should ask Braedon. He’s much better than I am.”

Braedon heard this as he rejoined the group. He and Jimmy argued about it as we made our way to the cafeteria-style restaurant. We collected our food before heading to the sky deck.

After eating, I took a few minutes to review with Braedon some of the self-defense techniques for the next morning. His graceful hands were a combination of strength and gentleness. I had seen how strong he was that morning, and I now could also imagine those hands doing delicate surgery.

Two of the guys from dinner—Wes and Ryan—observed us and came over, followed by Jimmy and Maria.

“You know karate?” Wes flipped his dreadlocks over his shoulder. “We’re brown belts.”

“What style?” I asked.

“Gosoku.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Hard and fast, huh?”

“Hard?” Maria looked first at me and then at the two guys. “Like, they hit hard?”

We laughed. “Not like you mean it. A hard style means it has linear motions. A soft style is more circular.” I said to the two guys, “Mine’s a hard style too. Braedon and I have been practicing self-defense techniques in the gym in the morning. You guys ought to come.”

Maria shook her head, rubbing Jimmy’s arm a little anxiously. “Not me. I don’t mind kickboxing for cardio, but I don’t want anyone hitting me.”

“You don’t have to come,” Jimmy interrupted, kissing her cheek. “But I would like Lyn to teach me more than kicks and punches.”

With his request came sudden inspiration. I scanned the area for Jori, who was chatting with a couple of girls in a corner. I wondered which one would be his partner that night. “You should talk to Jori about teaching you some self-defense techniques.”

Jori turned toward me at the sound of his name and strode over.

I smiled at Jimmy. “I think Jori knows Hapkido.”

Jori nodded as he reached us.

“I just volunteered you to teach Jimmy. Wouldn’t you say you owe that to me?”

Jori sent me a shrewd look over the head of his soon-to-be student.

Jimmy looked confused. “What’s ... what did you call it? Hop-kee-something?”

Jori slugged Jimmy’s shoulder. “It’s a Korean martial art.”

“That also uses joint locks for self-defense,” I added. “Jori can bring you up to date.”

“Hapkido is much better than anything from Japan.” Turning, Jori sent me a sideways glance, the twinkle in his eyes
taking the barb out of his words. He led Jimmy and Maria— who wore a martyred expression—toward an open area.

I giggled, thinking Maria must really be in love to go along. It was kind of sweet. Leaving the others, I made my way to one of only two remaining lounge chairs and lay down. The two guys would make interesting additions to my self-defense sessions.

“Mind if I join you?” Braedon sat in the empty chair beside mine.

Just friends. “Sure.”

He leaned back, his eyes gazing at the star-studded sky. “Do you teach your students about astronomy? Can you tell me about the constellations?”

This I could handle. I ran my hand up and down the arm of my chair, the smooth plastic cool under my touch. Clearing my throat, I began in my lecture voice, “I’m sure you’ve heard of the North Star.” I pointed to one of the bright stars. “As we haven’t traveled too far south yet, we can still see it. It’s been used for navigation for centuries. Because it’s the ‘North’ Star, we can only see it while we’re in the northern hemisphere. Once we cross the equator, we won’t be able to see it anymore.”

Braedon looked at me. “I didn’t know that.”

I lifted my head. “You didn’t take astronomy as an undergrad?”

“No.” He faced the sky again. “Premed requires plenty of other science courses.”

“I take my students up Pikes Peak every spring to stargaze. Most people don’t realize there isn’t a bright star in the southern hemisphere—a South Star, so to speak. Makes navigating harder. If we’re going to get shipwrecked, we better do it before we cross the equator.”

Braedon chuckled. “We should be sure to mention it to the captain.”

L
ATER, WHEN
I came out of the bathroom in my pajamas, Elle sat on her bed waiting for me. “So.” She played with the bedspread. “Two guys are showing interest in you, and you’ve only told one of them off. That’s good.”

I raised my hand to stop her. “It’s not like that. Braedon’s just a friend.”

“Still, this is progress for you.” She concentrated on plucking at the bedspread before continuing. “It’s time to trust again.”

I grunted. “Oh, right. In this fake place?” I grabbed my pillow and fluffed it up. I didn’t want to have this conversation.

She watched me with sad eyes as I crawled into bed and turned away from her. It was easy for her to believe; she had never been deceived.

Memory brought the scent of blooming lilacs blowing in my window on a warm summer breeze. I doubted I would ever like the smell again. It took me back to that night almost a year ago when Jace’s father had called.

Dan’s voice cracked as he said my name. In spite of the warm night, my blood turned to ice. “What is it, Dan?” Through the phone, I heard his sobs. My stomach knotted. I sat and tried again, clenching the phone to stop the shaking of my hands. “Dan. What happened? Is Jace all right?”

“He’
s ...
gone,” the older man croaked.

“Gone?”

“Dead.”

My whole world spun, and I grasped the table edge for support as a wave of dizziness smashed into me. My body reacted while my brain played dumb, tears flooding my eyes.

“His car went into the canyon and rolled,” Dan whispered, the weight of his loss heavy in his voice.

The blood pounded in my head. “Why?”

“They don’t know yet.”

Jace was supposed to have gone out with some guy friends. “Was anyone else hurt?”

Dan paused. “The ... girl’s still unconscious, but they think she should recover.”

My fingers holding the phone shook. Girl? What girl? Someone must have made a mistake. Hope rushed through me. Maybe it wasn’t Jace after all. “There could have been a mistake.”

“No, Lyn.” The tone in his voice was final.