The Fall and Rise of Kade Hart: A Hart Brothers Novel (7 page)

“Oh, boy. That went over like World War
Three.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Well, if you consider that she said a dog
was nothing but filthy vermin and not worthy of setting foot in her
holy convent, and that if I dared defy her I would be kicked out on
my bottom, bad, then yeah.”

“No shit. She said all that?”

“Um, yep. She really has a thing about dogs.
All animals, I think. I tried to bring up St. Frances of Assisi,
but that backfired too.”

“Who?”

“St. Frances of Assisi. He’s the patron
saint of animals. She said she would rather minister to the sick
than to animals. And if you know Sister Helena, she can make you
feel as though you are five years old. I felt very foolish as she
berated me in front of all the nuns. It was quite humiliating, I
can tell you.”

I watch Emmalia and her head hangs down. I
know she wants me to take the dog, but I’m afraid I won’t do right
by it.

“What about Father Anthony?”

She shakes her head. “He’s in agreement with
Sister Helena. They’ve never had animals at the convent and he’s
never had a dog either.”

“I’ve never owned a dog myself. My father
never allowed it. I don’t know the first thing about owning a
pet.”

Her head perks up and her eyes spark. “I can
teach you. I had pets growing up and I would dog sit for the
neighbors. They’re much like plants. All they need is food, water,
and love. Oh, and they need to be taken out. But I can help with
all that. I can come and get her when I work at the shelter and
keep her all day for you. I can do a fifty-fifty split. The big
thing is she needs a place to sleep every night.”

“Emmalia, I never said…”

“Oh, she’ll be such awesome company for you.
And I’ll help pay for all her shots and stuff. You won’t have to
worry about a thing. I’ll even cover her food. I get a huge
discount on all pet care and food through the store at the shelter.
I’ll help you with everything. I swear I will. I won’t let you
down, Kade. So what time will you be here tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes! So I can bring her over?”

There’s no way she’s going to let me out of
this. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

She grins and it lights up her face. “No
way. You will be the most perfect dog daddy ever. I can tell. You
won’t let Ethel down.”

“But I always pictured owning a big rough
and tumble kind of dog, not some fluff ball.”

“Yeah, but God sends us things in cute
packages sometimes,” she says. “So?”

“So what?”

“What time will you be home?”

“Around six.”

“I’ll be here.”

And true to her word, when I pull up,
Emmalia and Ethel, along with a big crate and some other things are
sitting on my front porch in the cold dark night.

“How long have you been here?” I ask.

“Oh, maybe ten minutes.”

“Jesus, you must be freezing.”

“A little. But it’s okay.”

I open the door and let them in. She lugs
the crate inside, and Ethel follows on a leash.

“Did you walk here carrying all that?”

“Yeah.”

I scratch my head. “Why didn’t you call
me?”

“What for?”

“So I could give you a ride.”

She shrugs. “I walk everywhere. It’s not a
big deal.”

“But do you normally carry all that stuff
with you?”

“If I have to.”

She’s so matter-of-fact I just stare at her,
at a loss.

“What?” she asks.

“You’re very odd.”

She straightens her spine and lifts her head
as high as she can, screws up her face, and says, “Because I walk
everywhere? I don’t have a car so I use the legs that God gave
me.”

I have angered her. “I didn’t mean to insult
you.”

“Mr. Hart, I am only doing what I do every
day. I walk to work, and then home. I don’t live a very fancy life.
But that’s okay. It’s my choice. I went to college and I have a
degree. If I chose, I could get a job making more money, I suppose.
But most of my time is spent volunteering in various places and, of
course, working at the school. I’m not a teacher by trade, but I
have certain skills that some may find useful.”

“What type of skills?”

“Computer skills.”

“Computer?”

“I majored in computer science. I can do
just about anything with a computer.”

“And yet, here you are, joining a
convent.”

“Why is that so difficult for you to
swallow?”

At that particular moment, Ethel lets out a
yap, and then starts barking. Emmalia bends down and scoops her up
in her arms.

“What’s wrong, fluff monkey?” She giggles as
Ethel covers her face in slobbery licks. “Are you hungry? I bet you
are. You haven’t had your supper yet.” Emmalia looks at me with
raised brows.

“This way.” We head to the kitchen. Halfway
down the hall, I hear a clanging and I turn to see Emmalia toting
Ethel in one arm and the crate in the other.

“For the love of God, woman, would you at
least let me get that damn crate?”

As I reach to grab for it, my hand brushes
against her arm and she drops the crate. It crashes to the floor,
startling her and she screams. Ethel barks and Emmalia jumps about
a foot off the ground.

“Jesus! What the hell!” I yell. “Calm down,
would you?”

“Sorry.”

“Jumpy much?”

She folds her arm across her stomach in a
protective stance and hugs herself as she cuddles Ethel.
“Sorry.”

“Hey, are you okay?”

She stares at Ethel, and doesn’t respond.
Emmalia is in some sort of trance, it seems. I reach out and put my
hand on her shoulder, and she screams.

“Emmalia! It’s me, Kade!”

She backs into the wall and shakes. Her eyes
are so huge, it looks like they’re going to leap right out of her
head and roll down the hall. Her skin is very pale she looks as
though she’s just seen a ghost. I bend down in front of her and
click my fingers. I want to get her attention, but I don’t want to
frighten her.

“Emmalia,” I say, softly. “You with me
here?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Her hand covers her face
as color begins to return.

“Come. Let’s get some water for you and feed
Ethel.”

We make our way into the kitchen and I seat
Emmalia at the bar. I feed the dog and fix a glass of water for
Emmalia. I watch as she sips it. She’s trying to cover up the fact
that she’s frightened. Her hands are still trembling.

“Are you afraid of me?” I ask.

“No.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“It just gave me a scare, that’s all it
was.”

“Emmalia. I’m not an idiot.”

“Please drop it, Kade. It’s not a big deal.
Honest.”

“Does Sister Helena know you’re here
tonight?”

“Yes. I told her you were adopting a dog and
then we were having a lesson. She knows I’ll be home late.”

“Are you up to it? A lesson that is?”

She offers me a tentative smile. “Of course
I am. But can you do me a favor first? Will you play for me?”

Ethel finishes eating and we both take her
outside. Emmalia instructs me that Ethel will need to go out every
hour or two and after every meal. After she does her business, we
go back inside and I play a piece on the piano for her. It’s a
popular classical piece that I love, called
Dolly
by Gabriel
Faure. When I’m finished with that, I go right into another one of
my favorites, Rachmaninoff’s
Rhapsody on a Theme of
Paganini
. I’m not sure if she recognizes either one, but they
are both relatively popular songs as far as classical music
goes.

“That was unbelievable. You should be
playing for the symphony or something.”

“Or something. Which is what I’m doing.”

“How long have you played?”

“Since I was about seven or eight. My father
forced me at first. But then I would lose myself in the sound. And
not only that, it came so easy for me. It was as though my ears
knew exactly what keys to hit. Reading music was secondary to my
playing. After awhile, it helped, but at first I played by ear. Now
I do both. And by memory. When I was going through rehab, I didn’t
think I would remember—that my fingers would be able to pick out
the keys and the notes. But they did. I guess it was ingrained in
them. And now it’s my therapy. I play every night. Sometimes for
hours at a time. I’ll lose myself in the melodies and forget that
I’m even sitting here.”

“Oh, how I envy you.”

Her tone carries such depth of sadness that
I glance at her and see dark shadows in her eyes. “Tell me what
makes you so sad, Emmalia. I know that look. I recognize another
haunted soul when I see one.”

Our eyes meet and she offers me a forlorn
smile. “There’s nothing you can do to help me, Kade.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Tell you what. Keeping Ethel and letting me
listen to you play will help me more than anything else. Well, that
and teaching me how to sing.”

I’m not buying it, but I’ll have to settle
for it tonight.

~~~~~

The following Saturday, I go to the school to
teach my class of girls their recorder lessons. Emmalia is there,
as she promised. This is her third lesson and she’s moving along
better than expected. Learning to read music isn’t always fun and
it’s not easy teaching young children, especially when they aren’t
vested in it. But Emmalia is not like that. I get the feeling she
wants to please, but I’m not sure who she’s pleasing—herself or
Sister Helena. I think the idea of playing an instrument appeals to
her, but I’m not so sure she’s bought into the idea of being able
to sing. The thing is, her voice isn’t bad at all. But someone
along the way has made her think it is and she has no confidence in
herself. I hope I can change that.

The girls take their seats and immediately
start giggling. Is it me, or do all girls this age giggle? I’ll
have to ask Emmalia about this.

“Who didn’t practice this week?” Of course,
not a hand shoots up in the air. “Excellent. So can I guess that
all of you know how to play a C?” They all nod enthusiastically.
“Then let me hear it.”

And they all play a C.

“Great job. Now let’s all play an F.” And I
take them up and down the scale. By the end of the class, I have
them playing
Mary Had a Little Lamb
. And I want to poke some
needles into my eyes.

Thank hell it’s time to end. I smile and
wave them off, giving them their assignments for the week.

“Emmalia, don’t leave yet.”

She turns back and waits as I gather my
things.

“Would you like to go for some lunch?”

She glances at the clock on the wall and
then says, “Yeah, I can do that. I don’t have to be at the shelter
until one.”

We walk to my truck and I ask her about the
giggling girls. She laughs, like I’ve never heard her laugh.

“You have no idea, do you?”

“About what?”

“Oh, my God, Kade! They are all crushing on
you.”

I’m pretty damn sure I have one stupid ass
look on my face, because she nearly doubles over now, still
laughing.

“Oh, this is way past funny.”

“You have to stop right now. Why in the hell
would they have a crush on me?”

As I watch her, her animated grin changes
into an open-mouthed gape as she blinks in surprise. “Are you for
real? I mean, do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Well, yes! I’m an old man, according to
their standards. Why the hell would they be crushing on me?”

Her hand flies to her mouth, covering it as
she sputters out another huge bursting laugh. Suddenly, I get the
urge to grab her hand and pull it away from her mouth, because I
don’t want to stop looking at it. Her lips, the way they move, and
the way her smile brightens up her face makes me want to crush my
own mouth on hers so I can taste her, explore her, learn her.
Without a doubt, I must be staring at her like some star struck
teenager, so I close my eyes and give my head a firm shake. What
the hell am I doing here? First her ass, and now her mouth? Jesus,
am I really lusting after a nun? What the fuck!

When she finally stops laughing, she says,
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a dolt. Basically
clueless. They think you’re hot, Kade. Look in the mirror, and
you’ll have your answer.”

I keep my trap shut so I don’t say anything
else stupid, while we drive to the little diner I love so much for
lunch. When we get there, I wear a sheepish expression. “Am I
really that stupid?”

“Uh, more like in the dark about little
girls, I think.”

“I was wondering. Every time I see them,
they all just giggle. I thought maybe all girls did that.”

“No, and maybe after a while it will stop,
but with you, most likely not.”

I huff out a breath. “Well, at least now I
know.” As I look at her, I smile. “So tell me, how’s it going for
you?”

“Good. I’m picking it up. I’m still not sure
about the singing part though.”

“Are you doing this for yourself or for
Sister Helena?”

She hesitates.

“Emmalia, whatever you tell me, stays
between us.”

“I love to sing, but I only want to sing to
the music I love, you know? I don’t really care about being in the
choir.”

“Then why all this?”

“Sister Helena. She has this way of making
one feel very inadequate.”

“Yeah, I can tell. She’s definitely not what
you’d call warm.”

Emmalia shakes her head. “Not at all, unless
you’d consider Hitler warm.”

We laugh over that.

Then I get serious. “Don’t let anyone ever
make you feel inadequate. You’re not. You can sing just fine. I
won’t go so far to say you’re American Idol quality,” I wink, “but
for what you want to do, you’re much better than average.”

“Thank you, Kade, and especially for taking
time out of your busy schedule to do all of this.”