He moved to the back of the hall as Mrs. Bloom took over the exercises, dividing the choirs into four, setting them off in a round. Nat closed his eyes and let the harmonies wash over him. He’d never been part of a choir, never been in a school band, never in one place long enough, but he had to admit, all the voices together, from the childish trebles of the littlest kids to the deeper basses of the seniors were pretty effective. He glanced over toward the corner of the stage, to the piano. Linnea sat listening intently to Mrs. Bloom’s instructions, her hair piled into a soft knot at the nape of her neck, her hands resting lightly on the keys. Back then it had been this stillness, this concentration he had noticed, had been drawn to. Her utter absorption in a task, whether she had been running, playing the piano, debating, writing a paper. Everything she did she had done one hundred per cent, with her whole being. Nat had taken nothing but music seriously and had found her capacity for learning extraordinary. Beguiling. And, watching her now, he realized he still did.
The room had fallen quiet and with a start Nat saw dozens of pairs of eyes were fixed on him. He wrenched his thoughts away from Linnea and back to the here and now, rapidly-approaching concert.
“Okay, we’ll meet here the same time next week when I’ll have words and music,” Nat said as confidently as he could, brushing away the inconvenient truth that he still had no idea what they would be singing. “After that I’m afraid we’ll have to meet three times a week. Your schools will let you know dates and times, but Christmas is closer than you think and we have a lot of work to do.” He had a lot of work to do. What they needed was something simple yet impressive. “Good work everyone,” he finished off. “I’ll see you next week.”
He spent the next five minutes doing his best to reassure the anxious teachers he knew exactly what he was doing without giving away the fact he still had no idea what direction the concert was going to take, managing to break away when he saw Linnea helping her daughters into their coats. Nat caught up with her as she headed towards the door. All three were dressed in cheerful, bright warm jackets and he was struck by Elsie and Betsy’s resemblance to their mother from their thick, wavy hair to the golden tones of their skin. “Good work, team,” he said, high-fiving the girls. “Thank you,” he added softly to Linnea.
“Thank me? I should be thanking you. That was brilliant. They were eating out of your hands. I don’t know how you kept your cool. All four teachers were keen to take part in the concert, but made it really clear they didn’t have time to do more than chaperon—I didn’t realize they all wanted to manage the music from afar! You should be a hostage negotiator. It’s a shame to be wasting that Hathaway charm.” That Hathaway charm… charm he had traded off, mostly unconsciously, all of his life. It made life easy for him, Nat knew that. Maybe too easy.
“You know, I actually enjoyed most of it,” he confessed. “Not the negotiating the teachers’ part, but listening to the kids sing. I can see why this concert means this much to you, if the first rehearsal can be that powerful.”
“It did sound amazing, even my wrong notes didn’t detract too much. I’m going to need some serious practice once you decide exactly what we’re singing.” Linnea stopped, turning with a look of panic on her face. “You don’t want me to play for the actual concert do you? I’m horribly out of practice. A few scales and a light accompaniment is one thing, but an actual public performance is another.”
“No, no, that’s all been sorted.” Turned out Lacey wasn’t the only organizer in the family. “The high school orchestra will take care of the concert and Mrs. Bloom will play the piano that evening, but if you could keep helping out for rehearsals, I’d be very grateful.”
“I’m hardly in a position to refuse when you’ve stepped in and saved the concert, am I?” Linnea touched his arm lightly and the very air stilled, all Nat’s attention on that one spot on his arm, every nerve straining to reach it. “I’ve actually really enjoyed having a reason to start playing again. I forgot how much I used to lose myself in it.”
“You needed a reason?”
“You know me. I don’t do anything without a reason.”
The words hung there for a moment. He had said that to her once. When he had, for the first time, suggested keeping in touch. He’d never suggested that to anyone before, never seen the need to. Never wanted to.
“What would be the point?” Linnea had asked, her forehead creasing as she puzzled out the words. “We’re heading off in such different directions.”
“That’s your problem, there always has to be a point, a reason,” he had retorted. “You don’t help out at the senior center because you enjoy it, or because you’re so civic-minded. You do it to make your Ivy League applications look better. You don’t run track or play the piano for fun, you do it because you have to prove you are the best at everything. Sometime, Olsen, you are going to have to stop and smell the frickin’ coffee.” He’d stopped then, appalled by the flash of hurt in her eyes, and after a stilted few minutes they’d made up. But he’d never suggested keeping in touch again, bringing his departure date forward instead.
By the look on Linnea’s face she was remembering that conversation too. “I never did learn to stop and smell the coffee,” she said.
“Listen, if I can learn to organize a community event, you can learn to take some time out. Maybe that should be my goal while I’m here, to help Linnea Olsen chill out.” He meant the words as a joke, but there was a ring of sincerity in them that surprised him.
Linnea didn’t look at him, but her posture relaxed. “I’d like that,” she said.
They reached the main doors and Nat shivered, pulling his coat close around him. With the passing of Thanksgiving, fall seemed to have given way to winter and although it had yet to snow the bite in air forecast it couldn’t be that far away. “I’ve not spent many winters in the mountains,” he said. “I forgot how cold it can get.”
“The winters are pretty cold—and can be incredibly snowy—in New York state, but there’s nothing like this mountain chill.” Linnea lifted her head and inhaled. “You know, I’ve kind of missed it. The freshness of it, the wildness.”
“Remind me of that in February,” Nat said. “You’ll be longing for spring by then.”
She laughed. “Maybe.”
With a jolt, Nat remembered he wouldn’t be here in February. This stop might be a little longer than most, but it was, as always, temporary.
The girls were a few steps ahead, walking along the path which ran alongside the school parking lot and heading toward the gates and the community park. Once out of the gates they broke into a trot, their way through the small park lit by the lamps that dotted the path. As they neared the trees, Nat shot a quick look over at Linnea. Did she even remember the first evening they had spent together, here in this very spot, just the two of them, in a moment out of time? She’d persuaded him, somehow, to play for the senior center and had insisted on a run through first. Not that he’d needed much persuading—he’d already found himself fascinated by the super-organized, on-every-committee girl and her rare luminous smile.
After that Nat stopped asking other girls out, but he and Linnea had never gone public and he had left Marietta before the prom. It seemed a shame now that he hadn’t waited, that they hadn’t shown up together hand in hand. But back then his path had been clear—to get back out of Marietta, rejoin his parents and start to forge his own musical path. Linnea was headed east to college. Neither of them was likely to return for reunions or other nostalgic trips. Yet here they were, exiting their old high school once more…
“Have you seen the girls?” Linnea looked around, her breathing faster than it had been, her eyes wide. “Elsie? Betsy?” She called again, her voice shrill, turning to Nat, eyes wide with panic. “Where are my girls?”
Chapter Eight
Nat stopped. The girls were nowhere to be seen. The evening was dark, the clouds blocking any starlight, and although the lamps lit up the park there were deep pools of d
ark everywhere. At the end of the park the river rushed along, the noise a constant presence.
“Girls?” she called again, and Nat could hear a note of utter fear in her voice.
He put a hand on her shoulder. “They were right here, they won’t be far,” he said, his voice soothing as if she were a skittish colt. “Call them again.”
Linnea nodded and Nat waited, heart hammering as she called out. “Girls? Where are you?” She sagged with relief when an answering cry sang out from further down the road.
“They’re at the gates,” Nat murmured, his voice still comforting. “Not far, let’s go.” He kept pace as Linnea practically flew down the road.
“Elsie Olsen-Gardiner. What were you thinking bringing your sister down here in the dark? Since when is it okay for you girls to wander alone at night? Huh?”
“We heard a noise, Mommy. Look. It’s hurt. What do we do?” Elsie flew to meet them, her face pale in the lamplight, Betsy on her heels.
“What is it?” Nat took a step forward, whatever it was was matted and filthy, lying on its side.
“Be careful, Nat,” Linnea said, arms protectively around her daughters. “There are all kinds of wild animals in those mountains.”
“That’s no wild animal,” Nat strode forward and crouched down. “It’s a dog. Barely alive, but it’s a dog alright.”
“A dog? No, girls, stay back. How injured is it?” Linnea took a step closer, but Nat shook his head. The last thing he wanted was the frightened animal to feel overwhelmed and potentially hurt Linnea or either of her daughters.
“Why don’t you take the girls over to Crooked Corner and call a vet?” He suggested in a low voice. “I think I’m going to need an expert here. He couldn’t see much in the dim light, didn’t know if the dog was just exhausted and dirty or if there was something worse wrong. Either way, the girls would be better off away from the scene.
“A vet, right.” He could hear the uncertainty in her voice. “Who—” She stopped. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. Come on, girls. Nat will let us know how the dog is, I promise, but right now it’s scared and it doesn’t want all of us crowding it.”
She ushered the girls away with a quick backwards look.
The park seemed very empty and very dark, just Nat and the dog in the chill of the night. “Hey, pal,” he said softly. “How’re you doing?” The dog lay slumped on its side, its head resting on the frosted grass, eyes glazed and half-open, but at the sound of Nat’s voice it opened its eyes wider, trying to focus on him. A low whine came from its throat.
“Ssh. Don’t you worry. Linnea is going to send someone out to help you. She’s the capable sort. She’ll find you a vet. The best vet, I promise.” He was almost crooning and the dog gave a labored sigh, its ribs contracting with the effort.
“Hey, don’t move,” Nat continued in a low sing-song voice. “There’s no need to stir.” Carefully he reached out, and laid his hand on the dog’s head, wincing a little as he did so. Not only was the dog filthy, but it was no doubt covered in fleas and ticks. His mother’s warnings about rabid dogs came back to him, but this dog wasn’t rabid, he’d bet anything. Just starving and very, very tired. It didn’t wince away or look menacing as he lightly touched it and Nat kept his hand there, sure the contact must reassure the dog; crooning any old nonsense he could think of, finally breaking into a low song. “Hound Dog” felt appropriate, although he kept clear of any Elvis type moves, turning the song into a ballad, following it with a slowed up “Martha My Dear”. Not that he knew whether the dog was a boy or a girl, but he hoped it would appreciate the sentiment. He’d moved onto “Old King”, when the dog gave a feeble warning growl and turning round Nat saw Linnea carrying a basket. She made her way carefully over to him.
“Lacey is watching the girls. They’re going to be so tired tomorrow, but there’s no way they’ll sleep until they know if the dog is okay. Here”—she passed him a flask—“hot chocolate. And I have water for the dog, but I don’t know if he should have it. What if they need to operate?”
“Best wait for the vet.” Nat took the flask gratefully. “Have you found one?”
“Lacey called Matthew West. Do you remember him? He married Carolyn Henderson this year? Anyway, he’s a vet and is on his way.” She glanced at him. “Were you just singing to the dog?”
“I’m not sure whether I was trying to reassure him or me,” Nat confessed.
“Doesn’t matter, I guess, as long as it worked.” Linnea put a light hand on his arm and the touch warmed him right through to his bones.
He shouldn’t have been able to feel it, not with the thickness of his winter coat, but somehow it was if they were skin-to-skin, every atom of his arm attuned to her hand.
He turned his head. Linnea had crouched next to him, her shoulder almost touching his, her profile dimly lit by the glow of the distant lamp. Her hair was piled up in a messy bun, she wore little makeup, but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Nat’s gaze dropped to her mouth, wide, generous and perfectly shaped. Ten years since he’d last tasted her. Ten years since her hands had been entwined around his neck, his own resting at her waist, the small of her back. Their kisses had been wild, almost desperate. They’d known they were living on borrowed time.
What would it be like to kiss her now? An older, more experienced Linnea? Would it be as intoxicating or would age and expectations wither the innocent desire of their youth?
As if she heard his thoughts Linnea shifted and then they were looking directly at each other. Nat swallowed, his blood thundering loudly as he lost himself in the darkness of her thickly-lashed eyes. Did she feel it too? Was her pulse racing madly, was every part of her aware of every part of him? If he leaned in, would she meet him halfway, lips parted and ready?
Nat leaned in and she moved towards him. He saw her eyelids flutter, her mouth quiver. Anticipation thickened the air as time slowed down. Nat could feel every moment of every heartbeat. There were so many good reasons to pull back, but right now he couldn’t remember a single one.
It was only a kiss.
It would change everything.
“Nat? Is that you?” A light shone directly at them and Nat sprang back, Linnea rocking back on her heels.
“Matthew? We’re right here.”
The next few minutes passed in a blur as the tall vet checked the dog over, issuing short commands, effortlessly conscripting Nat and Linnea into helping him.
“He’s emaciated,” Matt said after a while. “There’re a couple of bad cuts, which I need to suture. His paws are in a terrible state, torn and ulcerated. I can clean them, but he really needs time, rest, good food, and a good bath. I’ll take him back with me overnight and you can collect him in the morning.”
Nat froze. Did Matthew mean him or Linnea? “I…”
“Of course he could go to the shelter. But he’s going to need some love and TLC, and they can be pretty busy at the shelter especially at this time of year. They’d care for him, of course, but what this dog really needs right now is a home.”
Linnea worried at her bottom lip. “I know the girls really want a dog, but I just can’t risk a strange dog with them, not right now. They’re so fragile, if it went wrong, if we weren’t the right family and we had to give him up, it would devastate them.” She looked at Nat, her eyes huge in the lamplight. “Do you know anyone, Nat?”
“The aunts would never risk disturbing Patchwork,” Nat said slowly. Patchwork was a huge, overfed calico cat who ruled Crooked Corner with iron paws. “And Lacey and Zac are away half the week…”
“But you’re there all the time.”
“For now.” Nat reminded her—and himself. “Only until the new year.”
“That’s long enough for the dog to get back to full health though, isn’t it, Matthew? And then if it’s okay with kids I could consider adopting it—and, if not, it gives us time to find the right family. Your great-aunts know everyone in Marietta.”
Her eyes we
re full of hope. Nat glanced over at the dog whose eyes were also fixed on him with a pleading intensity. Nat sighed. He knew when he was beat. “I’ll have to check with Lacey. It’s her house.”
There it was, the smile that lit up her face, and Nat would adopt one thousand dogs to see Linnea smile like that. “That’s amazing, thank you. The girls will help. We’ll come and walk it as soon as it’s ready. I’ll take care of the vet bills and the food, and anything it needs. I know you’re not here forever, and I know we may not be the right home for it. But I have to try. Will you help me?”
There were one hundred reasons why this was a bad idea. Apart from anything else, Nat knew nothing about dogs. Moving around his whole life, traveling from country to country, there had been no space for pets. But then he thought about the hopeful smile on Betsy’s face, the unhappy scowl he already knew was characteristic of Elsie, despite her tender age. Christmas was coming. They needed to believe in a happily ever after.
Besides, those long moments crouched by the dog’s side, watching its shallow breathing, remembering the way it had moved its head slightly when he touched it as if desperate for hope and love, would never leave him. “I won’t take your money, Linnea. But I will take your offer of walks and help. The girls found the dog. They should help us heal it. It only seems right.”
“Thank you.” Linnea rose on her tiptoes and kissed him swiftly on his cheek. The place her lips touched tingled, a warm glow spreading through him right to his toes. “I can’t tell you what this means to me. The girls will be so happy. You’ll be quite the hero of the hour.”
Matthew West looked up, one hand still cupping the dog’s head. “I’ve given it a mild sedative. If you can give me a hand, Nat, then we’ll carry it back to my car. I’ll get it cleaned up, stitched and tested tonight and, all being well, you can pick up your new lodger tomorrow.”
Their Christmas Carol (Big Sky Hathaways Book 2) Page 6