Persuaded (14 page)

“Serves you right.” I smirked and lowered myself into the water to smooth my hair off my face. I jerked to the side when I saw a big white mass float to the surface. It scared me for a second until I realized what it was. “Hey! You even got my towel wet.” I had forgotten I had wrapped it around my waist.

Gregory laughed as he removed the soaking lump and set it on the patio. “That’ll teach you for wearing a towel around a swimming pool.”

“Gregory!” Kylie called as she and Lilly made it over to us. “That looked like so much fun. You have to jump in with me, too.”

“Yeah? You want to?” Gregory climbed out of the pool and waited for her.

Lilly and I waded in the water while watching him scoop Kylie up and jump in with her the same way he had with me. She came out laughing and eager to do it again. Kylie was out and dragging Gregory back up to the patio before he’d even had a chance to wipe the water off his face. He didn’t seem to mind. The way he laughed down at her as he scooped her back up against his broad chest made me realize Kylie didn’t annoy him like I thought she might. Obviously, he was far from annoyed. As a matter of fact, the only one who seemed to be even a tiny bit perturbed by the whole display was me. Even Lilly giggled as Gregory and Kylie crashed back into the water and Kylie yelled, “Again! That was awesome! We’ve gotta do it again!”

Gregory’s answer, “Sure. It’s fun, isn’t it?” sealed it for me.

Good grief. Are they going to do this all night? They’re getting me wet.
Never mind the fact that I was in a swimming pool and supposed to get wet—I wasn’t exactly thinking rationally at the moment. All I knew for sure was I wanted to escape Kylie’s screams of delight and Gregory’s laughter. I peered into the dark around the pool. Carson and Madison were talking quietly in the corner under a palm tree. The shallow end of the pool seemed to be the best bet.

I swam over to the steps and sat down on one, allowing the water to lap up around my waist. Kylie and Gregory’s antics had changed from jumping into the pool to dunking and splashing each other. Lilly had joined in, too. I stayed where I was for about ten minutes, in case anyone was watching. I wanted them to think I was actually enjoying myself. Besides, the night breeze was picking up and I didn’t think I’d last much longer. After another five minutes, I glanced once more around the pool and then quickly climbed out.

The air felt cold on my wet skin, and I wished I had my towel. I grabbed my flip-flops and didn’t even bother putting them on before I hurried onto the patio and up the walk to the back door. It was just as I was lifting the handle that I heard a wolf whistle behind me, and a distinct male voice holler, “Who’s the babe without a towel? Where are you going?”

You’ve got to be kidding me.
And I thought I’d left unnoticed.
Frantic, I managed to jerk the door open, but not before I heard Gregory call out, “Ethan, leave her alone. You’re—” The rest was muffled by the door as it slammed behind me.

When I stepped into the house, the air conditioning hit me like an Arctic breeze. I stopped a moment and slid my shoes on before jogging up to my room. Thankfully, no one was around.

As quick as I could, I jumped into a nice, hot shower to warm back up again. Then I put on some old jeans and a T-shirt.

The night was still young. I debated over which book to choose, figuring I could plop onto one of the soft, comfy couches in the family room and read. Then if anyone came by, it would look like I was still part of the group and interacting and stuff. As I was combing through the books, I came across an autobiography of a famous composer.

Oh my gosh. The piano. I almost forgot.
In a flash I was out the door and running—literally running—down the hall to the music room. It was dark, and after a few tries I found and flipped the switches, bathing the room in a sea of warm lights.

The piano beckoned me just as it had before, and I quickly walked up to it. My face would’ve burst if my smile had gotten any bigger. After sitting gingerly on the stool, I carefully lifted the keyboard cover. I took a deep breath and willed my hovering hands to stop shaking. With my thumb, I pushed down on middle C for the first time in over two years, and then, out of nowhere, I cried. Totally cried. Like a baby. The emotions of the past two years washed over me as my fingers galloped and danced their way across the keys, the sound exploding into crescendos all around me. At first I chose strong, vibrant pieces to play before experimenting with softer, calmer melodies. And then as always, I ended with happy, joyful, even playful arrangements that uplifted and tingled all the way into the darkest corners of my heart. When I finished, all that was left was a blissful, carefree being whose body hummed with excitement and enthusiasm.

My tears had long since dried. In fact, I wasn’t quite sure just how long I had been playing, leaping and bounding through song after song. But I did notice the profound stillness of the room when I stopped. It was too still. I looked up into the stunned faces of my all friends. Even Sydney stared at me from across the room.

Oh no. How long have they been here?
“Uh, I–I’m sorry.”

No one spoke.

Self-consciously, I shut the cover and stepped off the raised platform. I stood in the center of the room, willing someone to say something.

No one said a word. They all just stared.

Starting to tremble under the pressure of their gaping, I lowered my eyes and said, “Excuse me.”

Once in the hallway, I dashed toward my room.
I am such a freak. Seriously.
If I’d known I had an audience, I wouldn’t have dreamed of playing like that. Honestly, I couldn’t even begin to imagine just how loud some of my chords were. I didn’t hold anything back for myself, my audience of one. But for them, no, I would’ve chosen much less personal pieces to play—more widely accepted, rational arrangements.

Mortified, I burst into the room and hastily shut the door. I paced a second or two between the bed and the bookshelf, then grabbed a book at random and plunked onto the mattress on my tummy. Bringing my feet up behind me, I opened the book without rhyme or reason to a page and hoped I presented a look of casual bliss. I was somewhere between a galactic battle scene and a New Age war council when I heard the faint knock.

“Amanda?” It was Madison.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in?” she asked hesitantly.

Great, she sounds afraid of me.
“Of course.”
I don’t bite. I just get a little carried away on the piano, that’s all.

I heard the door open softly and then shut.

“Uh, are you all right?” Madison walked up to her bed and looked across at me.

I nonchalantly glanced up. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh, you just—you just—it seemed you were a little upset, that’s all.

A little upset.
I let the phrase fully sink in. “No. I wasn’t upset.”
Confused, embarrassed, and awkward, but not upset.

“Oh.”

I returned to my book.
Yep, a New Age war council.

After a few minutes I noticed Madison had found a book on gardening and crashed on her bed, too. She pretended to read a bit until, clearly frustrated, she tossed the book aside and sat up.

Here it comes.

“Where did you learn to play like that?”

I pretended to read a few more sentences before turning toward her. “Huh?”

Madison laughed out loud. “You aren’t any more interested in that book than I am in mine.” She shoved her book closer to the edge of her bed for emphasis.

I chuckled and closed the paperback. “Caught me. Sci-fi’s aren’t my thing anyway.”

She grinned. “So are you going to answer me or what?”

“Gee, how do most overly spoiled rich girls learn to do anything?” I sighed as I sat up. “By Daddy paying for the best instructor money can buy.”

“I don’t believe that for two seconds.” She snorted.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because, first off, you’re not spoiled. Second, a million instructors in the world couldn’t have taught me how to play like that. And thirdly, you devoured that piano like you hadn’t played one in years.”

Good grief. I would get stuck with a roommate with psychic abilities.
I decided to change the subject. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Read people so well?”

Madison shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always been that way. I guess I’m just more observant than most people, or something.” She looked at me funny a moment and then grinned. “Good try, by the way.”

Dang.
“What? It didn’t work?”

“Nope, it didn’t work.” She tucked her feet underneath her. “So why would a musical prodigy need to come all the way to Moab just to play a piano?”

“We don’t own one.”

“Why not?”

“Can’t afford it. The money my family had, we lost. Besides, it’s a good thing they sold the grand piano or we would’ve never had a place for it in the new house.”

“How long ago?”

“Just over two years.”

“So you never got an upright? Or a keyboard, or anything? Your family hasn’t bought you anything to replace it with?”

“My sister got a new fuel-efficient car.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. I’m not talking about Sydney. Why wouldn’t your parents buy you a piano?”

“Because I’m the only one who plays.”

“So.”

“So?”

“Yeah, so what. Do you share Sydney’s car?”

“Uh, no.”

“Do you have a car?”

“No. But I don’t want one. I can use my parents’ cars.”

“Are you kidding me?” Madison raised her hands in a no-shoot gesture. “I think I’m going to cry!”

“That’s not even funny, Madison.”

“I didn’t say it was. I’m serious. Do you realize you probably live with the most selfish family in the world?”

“Uh—” was all I managed to gasp out before Madison plunged on.

“Do you have any idea why we were all so speechless earlier? Any clue at all?”

I shook my head.

“You’re good! You’re not just good, you’re amazing. Seriously. You’re incredible! The most talented person any of us had ever come close to in our entire lives.”

What?
One small tear crept to the corner of my eye.

“And the crazy thing is, Sydney didn’t even know it! She was just as flabbergasted as we were. Sydney, who can’t ever have anything come out of her mouth unless it’s an insult, actually complimented you!”

The tear spilled over.

“Amanda Ellis, do you even know how inspiring you are? How just by the sound of your music, we were drawn in one by one, to hear you play? Do you think just any pianist can do that? Honestly, do you have any idea how much I so want to be you right now? How much I would love to have something in my life that creates such passion and excitement within me? Holy cow! Hasn’t anyone ever told you how wonderful you really are?” She waited. She actually expected an answer.

“I, uh . . . n–no.” The second tear fell. “No one.”

Except Greg, three years ago.

Thirteen: The Great Escape

Friday morning dawned bright and sunny. By the time I rolled out of bed, Madison had already sneaked out to go on an early-morning swim with Carson. We had been up half the night talking, first of me and then of her horrible/wonderful relationship with Carson. She was totally head over heels, and even though she had treated Collin terribly, I understood what it was like to meet someone and not be able to look away. I didn’t wish her ill—I just hoped Collin would be able to bounce back quickly.

I was a bit late for breakfast, which was good because only Lilly and Kylie were there, and neither of them acted awkward around me. After the first few minutes I began to relax and enjoy the morning. I did manage to spend a while in the music room, but this time I shut the door and played softly to myself. I enjoyed a peaceful hour before someone interrupted me.

“Amanda?”