by Ginny Aiken
“I’m fine,” Tyrone weakly defended himself.
“I’m sure.” Her voice softened. “Rest a bit longer. I’ll take you home, if you like.”
He liked the way “home” rolled off her lips. The woman was drop-dead gorgeous. Perhaps having a pretty nurse wasn’t all that bad. He lay back down on the sofa.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Cassy chuckled. “I’ve seen that look more than once,” she said, blushing. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I love your quartet and how you play your cello. I miss not hearing it.”
Tyrone smiled. “I’ll open the slider when I play.”
“Thanks. Although there were some awfully depressing sounds coming out of that cello. What were you playing?”
Ty closed his eyes. “Something I’m working on.”
“It shows.” She covered her mouth. “Sorry. I’m always doing that, speaking before I think.”
“You’re forgiven. And you’re right, they are mournful sounds. It’s hard to reflect the words and not reflect their meaning in the piece.”
“Are you putting something to music?”
“Yes. But it’s a secret. I haven’t even told the others what I’m working on, not until I’m content with its structure. Then, they can give me additional input.”
“Ah. Well, I’m no musician. I played a little flute while I was in high school and less while I was in college. But I certainly never tried to compose.”
Ty found himself liking this beautiful woman, even with her no-nonsense straightforwardness. After several minutes of conversation, he asked, “Can I sit up now?”
“You sound more alert. Let me check your eyes.”
He found himself looking into her auburn brown eyes and caught a spark of passion. “Cassy …”
“How’s my patient?” The doctor came back into the room. Tyrone didn’t know if he was grateful or angry—maybe a mixture of both. Cassandra popped up and took a step back.
“Fine,” Tyrone answered.
“His eyes are clear and his conversation has become quite lucid.”
“Good, go home and rest, young man. You overdid it,” the doctor commented and exited the room.
An awkward silence fell between the two.
Cassy cleared her throat. “Would you like me to take you home?”
“I need to pack up the equipment.”
“I think Tristan can take care of that. You, Sir, need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”
What he wanted to do and what he should do were two different things. They had chemistry. Should he pursue her? “I’ll let the others know I’m going home.”
“You sit; I’ll take care of it. I need to grab my purse anyway.”
Ty sat with his head back on the sofa. He had to admit his entire body still ached from the impact. He’d been sweating just before he passed out. No doubt the exertion to stay focused on his playing and not on his body caused the overload. Father, I hope the wedding party isn’t upset by this.
Classical Strings Quartet had a good reputation in the area. Always on time. Always professional. He should have let them go on with only the three of them and given the wedding a rebate.
Cassy returned and strolled up beside him, extending her arm. He latched on. Her strength startled him. Of course, she was a nurse, and helping patients up and down was part of her job.
They started home in relative silence. Her car was not the same one he’d seen in her parking space the first night. “I’m sorry to take you away from the reception.”
“Diane was a former patient. But I didn’t know anyone there….” She halted her words. “It’s not a problem.”
“You worked seven days straight this week. Is that normal?”
“No, normally …” She paused. He caught a glimpse of her staring at him. “Normally, I work five days on, two off.”
“Oh.”
“I had to adjust my schedule this week to get Saturday off for the wedding.”
He felt like a heel. She should be back at the reception. “Perhaps you can return after you drop me off.”
“I’m fine. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean to.”
“All right, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Now tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Sore. I think trying to sit up straight to give the impression I was fine while playing exerted more energy than I expected.”
“You’re probably right. Betty said a boat rammed you when you were sailboarding in the bay.”
“Yeah. A couple of kids going too fast and not paying attention. Tristan said they pulled me out and brought me to shore. Not only that, but they called the paramedics.”
“You’re fortunate.”
“Very. God was looking out for me.”
“You’re a Christian?”
“Yes, the entire quartet is. We met at college.”
“That’s great. One of the women at my table was raving about your quartet, said she had a hand in getting you established in Miami.”
Ty chuckled. “Mildred. She’s a sweetheart.” The woman told all her friends and insisted if they wanted the best, they should hire Classical Strings Quartet. With her connections in the upper class on the beach and in Aventura, she had helped them move forward quickly.
Cassy pulled into her assigned parking space. “We’re here. I’ll help you up to your place.”
“Thanks, but I think I can handle it.”
“Nonsense. I live next door. I’m going the same way anyway,” she argued.
“You’ve made your point.” Besides, wrapping his arm around this beautiful woman comforted him.
At his doorway, an awkward moment passed. He pulled out his keys and said, “Good night.”
“’Night.”
Inside his apartment, he opened the slider and allowed the gentle breeze from the bay to wash over him. The moonlight shimmered on the water. “She’s nice, Lord.”
Crash. Something broke on the patio floor next door.
Chapter 4
Okay. Cassy leaned back from the bathroom sink. “He’s a Christian. He’s handsome. And he’s everyone’s dream musician, according to Betty Ann and others.” She wagged the hairbrush at her mirrored image. She had to admit his quartet was superb. If Vanessa had anything to do with her getting this new condo, she’d be certain she was headed for another blind date. But Vanessa didn’t know anything about Tyrone or this condo, so she hadn’t been set up.
Cassy closed her eyes and pictured her handsome neighbor. Hazel eyes on a sea of mocha coffee with rich cream had invaded her dreams all night. She moaned, opened her eyes once again, and worked the brush through her hair. Noticing the kinky new growth, she decided she’d have to get a perm.
With will and sheer determination, she dressed for church. Letting her mind run through frivolous thoughts was a useless exercise and only ended in disappointment.
She grabbed her keys and headed out the door.
“Good morning.” Tyrone grinned. His bronzed skin shimmered with droplets of water. “Hi,” she fumbled.
He scanned her from head to toe in one swift gaze. “Church?”
“Yes.”
“I’m running late, myself. I overslept this morning.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine. My head still has a dull ache. I worked most of the stiffness from my body with a swim this morning.”
“You need to be careful. Don’t overdo it.”
“Yes, Doctor,” he said and saluted.
She thought of giving him a lecture, but what would it matter? He was obviously noncompliant. Thankfully, he wouldn’t be assigned to her floor. Well, her floor at the hospital. “I need to get going. Our church is hosting a special concert this morning.”
“Really, which church?” he asked.
“Christ Community, near I-95.”
Ty gave her a quirk of a smile.
He couldn’t be, could he? Did she dare ask? Nah, he couldn’t. He wasn
’t even dressed or ready for church.
“Yo, Tyrone, what’s taking you so long?” Tristan yelled from the lower level entryway.
“Sorry, I’ll be right down.”
Unsure of how to depart, Cassy gave a slight wave and bounced down the stairway.
All through the church service, Cassy kept hoping to see Tyrone and his quartet appear on the chancel. But he didn’t, and while the concert had included a wonderful testimony of what God was doing in the performers’ lives, the music lacked the classical flare, which Cassandra adored.
Before leaving, the pastor came up beside her and asked if she’d be ready to share in music in two weeks. She’d been putting off polishing up her flute for ages. But having heard Tyrone play the other night, the long hidden pleasure of playing her flute had resurfaced. “Yes, Pastor Paul, I’d love to.”
“Great. I’ll put you on the schedule.”
She mingled for a bit longer, talking with old and new friends, then returned to her condo.
Over the next couple of days, she’d bounce into Tyrone and wave. They’d share light chitchat. Finally, after a week, she no longer felt weak in the knees when she saw him. Toward the end of the week, she found him sitting under the tiki hut. Boldly, she came up beside him. “Hi.”
“Hi. Isn’t this gorgeous?” He indicated the moonlit, peaceful bay with a sweep of his hands.
“Yes.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him.
He glanced up at her. “Do you have a night off?”
Cassandra pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Me, too. I was planning on working on my project. But sometimes it’s far too depressing.”
“What are you working on? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He took in a deep breath and sighed. “I’ve been praying over the matter. I haven’t liked how the music has made me feel. I was trying to put the psalms that are specifically mentioned as having been written for string instruments to music.”
Cassandra thought it a wonderful idea, but hesitated telling him so. She could see the frustration etched on his forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“They’re depressing psalms.”
“How so?”
“Most are written in anguish, grasping for the Lord as the world hits the writer. Usually there is a verse that reminds the reader that God is there and He cares, but it’s generally a single verse and often followed with more cries of anguish.”
Cassandra reached over and touched his forearm. “Why do you want to put these particular psalms to music?”
Tyrone leaned back in the chair. “I was a kid when the thought struck me. I was still in high school. It’s never left me. But now that I’ve decided to buckle down and write it, it’s been depressing me, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m no expert, but I do love classical music. If you’d like to play them for me, I’d be happy to give you my input. If you think it would help.”
Tyrone’s smile was like liquid gold and sent shivers slipping down her spine. Lord, help me, I could fall in love with this man far too easily.
“I have a better idea. Why don’t I take you out to dinner? I mean, if you’re free. I’m sorry … I don’t know if you’re involved with anyone or …,” he fumbled.
“I’m unattached, and I’d love to go.”
“Great.” He looked down at his swimming trunks. “I’ll need to change.”
“How shall I dress?”
“Comfortably casual,” he said.
Cassy took Tyrone’s hand as he helped her out of the chair.
“Shall I pick you up in fifteen, thirty minutes?”
“How about forty-five?”
His smile sent a shiver of excitement through her veins. Lord, protect my heart from falling too hard and fast for this man.
“Tell me about yourself,” Tyrone asked as he opened the door to the van for Cassandra.
“Not much to tell. I’m a nurse, work nights, and that’s about it.”
Ty shut the door and jogged around to the driver’s side. “Come on,” he said as he slid behind the wheel. “There’s got to be something more. What’s your favorite food?”
“Anything. Well, almost anything. I’m not a fan of sardines, anchovies, or any other slimy, crittery thing.”
Tyrone chuckled. “Okay, no anchovies. Are you in a beef mood? Chinese? Cuban? Thai? We have it all down here.”
“A simple steak dinner would be nice.”
“Steak it is.” He headed north on Biscayne Boulevard toward Aventura. “What excites you about nursing?”
“I like helping folks.”
He looked into the side-view mirror and pulled into the middle lane. “Why the night shift?”
“It pays well, and I’m single. Few nurses want to give up their family time for that shift.”
“Makes sense.” They drove to the restaurant and continued their light chatter.
During dinner their conversation turned from friendly “I’m your neighbor conversation” to more pointed topics about their pasts, goals, and relationship with the Lord. Tyrone found himself wanting to know more and more about her. Their meals finished, desserts ordered and eaten, Tyrone searched for another reason to keep their conversation going.
“What made you decide on our complex?” he asked.
“The quiet. I’m sorry about the time I banged on your wall.”
He raised his hands. “You’ve already apologized.”
“I know, but I felt terrible. My girlfriend, Vanessa, had set me up on one of the worst blind dates the previous night and, well, I just wasn’t in a very good mood.”
“I should have checked with the new neighbor before playing.”
“For what it’s worth, I do enjoy your playing.”
“Except for the psalms written for stringed instruments,” he added.
“Right. Why are they so depressing?”
“They’re moments of anguish where people are calling out to God.”
Cassandra moved the empty dishes from in front of her and placed her elbows on the table. “You know, that first night, I had this melody come into my head. It was really strange. It had an unusual tempo, even, and was meant for a flute.”
“Tell me more.” Tyrone shifted closer.
Cassandra went on to explain how in her mind the flute’s melody line was soft, but peacefully woven in between the mournful strains of his melody.
“Interesting, a contrasting melody line. Would you be willing to play a bit for me so I can get a sense of what you were hearing?”
“I’m not very good, and I don’t know the first thing about writing music. I’m not sure—but I’m willing to try.”
“Great.” Ty jumped up from the table, laid a few bills down, and reached for Cassandra’s hand. “Let’s get started.”
“Now?” She glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly eleven.”
“Oh. I suppose it could wait ‘til morning. I just thought … since you’re used to being up in the wee hours …”
Cassandra chuckled. “Lead the way. I can see you won’t sleep tonight if I don’t give you something to work with.”
“Woman, I like your style.” He winked.
“I can honestly say, I’ve never been asked to come to a guy’s apartment to play my flute before.”
Tyrone chuckled. “I’ll spring for the coffee.”
“You’re on. But won’t we keep the others up in the complex?”
“True. Okay, tell you what. I’ll play the last recording I made of the Fifty-fifth Psalm and we can wear the headsets.” She looked at him quizzically. “It’s wireless, I can have as many headsets as I can afford.”
“Oh.”
They were back in the van and headed toward their condo in no time. Cassandra went to her apartment and picked up her flute. Ty set up and had everything in place by the time Cassy came back.
“I really appreciate this.” He took the light box from her hand and escorted her into his c
ondo.
She scanned the room. “I like what you’ve done with your space.”
“Thanks.”
“I think I might like to take down the wall in my kitchen. I like the effect of the island between the two rooms.”
“Come over here.” He led her into the living room. “I’ve set up the computer.”
Cassy chuckled. “You really do seem to get into this stuff, don’t you?”
“Afraid so.” Tyrone found himself captivated by her smile. Was he really interested in hearing her idea or simply interested in spending more time with her? Both, he mused.
After a few minutes, Cassandra picked up her flute and tentatively played a few notes. Tyrone watched as her hands shook while playing for him. He’d seen it before when teaching music lessons. Lately, he’d been too busy to take on students. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the melody line she was trying to play.
“I’m sorry, I’m horrible at this. I can’t believe I let my pastor talk me into doing special music in two weeks.”
“No, you’re doing fine. I’m catching a glimpse of the music.”
“Seriously? I was thinking—with your psalms, if you added a gentle, secondary melody that eventually took over the piece when you met up with the positive verses of reassurance of God’s love and grace, you might have a powerful piece.”
“That’s it.” Ty jumped up and went over to his desk, riffling through the sheets of music scores. He sat down and went to work. At some point, he mumbled good-bye to Cassandra. At least, he thought he had. He hoped he had.
Cassandra huffed as she made up her bed. She didn’t know whether to be upset or excited about her time with Tyrone last night. Memories of their conversation flooded her with joy. Memories of working on his music with him also brought some satisfaction. However, the way in which he plummeted into his work was downright obsessive. I doubt he even heard me leave, Lord.
Not that she’d gotten her hopes up that they could possibly begin a relationship. “Friends, that’s all I want in my life, right now, Lord. Just friends.”
The doorbell rang.
Tyrone stood tall and dangerously handsome, offering a single yellow rose. “Peace offering,” he volunteered.
“You didn’t have to.” She took the proffered rose. “But it’s gorgeous. Thanks.”