by Diana Duncan
When the receiving line ended, he led her to the dance floor. He held up his hand for silence. Expecting a dance, she glanced at him in puzzlement.
"I'd like to present my bride with her wedding gift."
A side door opened, and a stocky man carried in a piano bench. Two others wheeled in a piano. The piano wasn't new. The wood was scratched and battered, the keys yellowed and worn with age. The old instrument looked achingly familiar.
Her breath jammed in her throat.
"Look under the keyboard," Gabe murmured.
Trembling all over, she bent down. The wood bore a tiny handprint in black marker with a larger hand drawn beside the little one. In between was a heart with initials. Hers and her father's. "Dad's piano," she choked. "How?"
"I've been searching for weeks, practically since the day you told me about it. The writing made it easier to track down. I found it in a retirement home in Sacramento." He slid his arm around her and nudged her gently. "Go on, honey. Play something."
Trembling harder, she seated herself on the bench. Gently, reverently, she placed her fingers on the worn keys. Remembering her past, anticipating her future, she played from her heart.
Love Me Tender.
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