His Sweetest Song

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His Sweetest Song Page 8

by Victoria H. Smith


  Mother was my birth mom, a woman I wished I had the pleasure of knowing longer than I had. She passed when I’d been so young. I only recalled glimpses of her now, the same ones that connected me to this place.

  Looking around, the room bare with nothing but the essentials, I stood. My bag was on the bed so I started putting everything in it but the dress I planned to wear today, chatting with my dad more as I filled my bag back up, then wheeled it down the hall. I had decided to move rooms, going to my aunt’s room.

  “I suppose I’ll let everyone know your status then,” Daddy said, finally understanding that yes I would be doing this and yes I would be staying here. “You’ll call us if you need anything, though?”

  “I promise,” I told him, opening the door. Inside, a room very similar to the one I’d been staying in resided.

  I stepped into the wonderland, a wide window leading out to an exquisite veranda. Filled with light, the room glowed like an iridescent heaven with the way the sun played through the sheer curtains on the windows and the white bedding.

  I stood there, ready for this.

  “You better,” my dad went on. “And when you come back we’ll meet that boyfriend of yours.”

  I told Daddy what he wanted to hear in regards to that last bit. He knew full well about Bastian, my entire family did, the young CEO who’d made his way into my life. What they hadn’t gotten to hear about was how he’d been married—albeit separated—for the majority of our relationship.

  As well as how he’d broken my heart and I boozed myself to sleep recently because of it.

  Sitting on my aunt’s queen bed, I pushed my hand into my hair. I had no idea what would happen between Bastian and me. I did know I had been trying.

  But that took two people in the end, didn’t it?

  I took the time to dress a couple hours later, my Internet provider had come and gone. He’d finished up the job he started yesterday after Ava dropped me off at home. The serviceman arrived severely late and had also come with the bonus of being underprepared on top of that.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow with the cables,” he’d said yesterday, literally leaving one of the most important things back at his company’s base a few towns over. Mayfield didn’t have an

  Internet provider so I had to outsource. The man was back as promised today, but needless to say, I hadn’t gotten much done in regards to work prior to that.

  Not that they needed me there anyway.

  I called in earlier that morning informing them of my leave of absence. I was basically being dubbed the task of organizing my cases enough to pass on to the other attorneys as well as being on call for my particularly special and more affluent clients. The latter in itself would always keep me busy. I took the time to make sure my clients were always cared for and their needs met.

  Pushing my hands down my dress, I made my way through the house, foolish I knew, to make sure things were tidy and clean before Gray came over. I mean, he’d been here just a few days prior.

  I tended to clean when I was nervous.

  And the situation, what was about to happen, was definitely making me nervous. Last time Gray’s little girl had seen me she ran and she’d be here with him today. He apparently didn’t have a sitter for her, as she didn’t take to many people. He explained to me she’d be with him on the majority of the days he’d be here.

  He also explained a few other things.

  He’d emphasized her shyness and had been adamant that she should do the approaching if she did any and that I shouldn’t expect her to say anything to me.

  He literally said she wouldn’t say anything to me. I had no idea if that meant she wouldn’t be talking to me in particular or didn’t talk at all. Either way, I figured she had special needs, autism or maybe something else.

  I supposed in the end it wasn’t my business.

  I employed her father and that’s the only exchange that really mattered. I understood the need for child care and I, of course, was okay with it though I had no children myself. I guess lately I figured I’d be inheriting Bastian’s, their own mother nonexistent in her globetrotting and international excursions. She was apparently an international buyer and businesswoman.

  My lip pushed across the other, all other thoughts lifted from my mind at the sound of a pickup truck pulling into my aunt’s driveway.

  Exhaling breath, I messed with my hem again. I wore nothing flashy. Autistic kids could be easily over-stimulated I’d read on the net that morning.

  Angling my head to gaze through the curtains downstairs, I made no sudden movements, letting the pair come to me. The slam of a truck door sounded and I moved away from the curtains, standing into the middle of the hallway until that telltale door knock entered the hall.

  It hadn’t been loud, not surprising.

  Braving up, I knew it was just a little girl behind that door, and her father.

  Eyes of a crashing blue displayed before me, a child underneath Gray’s palm as his hand was on her tiny shoulder.

  His daughter truly was angelic. Her face China-like and round, she had a haunting glow about her, her hair dark and messy like her father’s. It pooled down past her shoulders today, her dress that of a t-shirt with a printed cartoon on it and shorts that matched the same blue of her worn tennis shoes. Her hand gripped Gray’s pocket beside her. Her skepticism was abundant in her gaze. She slid an arm up to Gray’s waist and he pushed his across her shoulders.

  She really was a skittish little thing.

  I stood stationary, waiting to be presented and Gray didn’t disappoint. Looking down, he spoke to her, saying, “This is Alicia.

  “We talked about how this is her house now,” he went on, his voice kind of rough in its usual tone but incredibly soft despite. I heard him sound that way before when he’d helped guide her from under the couch. He faced me. “Alicia, this is my daughter, Laura.”

  She did look like him from those high and slightly hallowed cheekbones to that messy, dark hair on their heads. She was quite darker than him though and I wouldn’t be surprised if she did have that Latina in her as I assumed before.

  Then there’d been her big brown eyes.

  Someone else was there inside her, Gray only half the piece of the puzzle. He himself was a maze of mystery but I didn’t hire him to know his life story in the end.

  “Nice to meet you, Laura,” I said subtly squeezing my hands together. I smiled. “I’m Josephine’s niece.”

  Laura gave no reaction to that, at least not with her expression. She simply let go of her dad.

  Then she walked past me.

  Giving herself a wide berth, she made soft steps into the house and I turned, watching her disappear into the living room. Like she knew what to do, she lifted an ottoman, taking out what looked to be a book and some colored pencils.

  Venturing inside a little, I watched her open up a coloring book, while getting on her belly and using those pencils I saw her retrieve.

  “Please don’t be offended.”

  Gray had apparently flanked me in my strides to see what his daughter had been up to.

  Closing his eyes to her, he opened them to me. “She’s used to milling about this place. She knows the house well.”

  The obviousness of that statement rang true.

  The little girl flipped to her page of choice, doing her thing by doodling in the book.

  His bearded jaw moving, Gray breathed deep. “She’ll no doubt do that most of the day. When she’s not doing that she’ll probably nap.”

  “Will she need food?” I asked, closing the door behind us. “I can go to the store.”

  “You really won’t have to worry about her. I’ll take care of everything in regards to her care. You’re doing me a huge favor by letting her be here.”

  I nodded, pushing my hands over my arms. “Well, I’m out of the guest room. She can sleep in there if she needs to.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  As if on autopilot his daughter t
ook our attention, the soft etches of color wearing down on paper before us. After a while of staring at her, Gray pulled down the pencil he had secured behind his ear.

  He pulled out a notepad from his back jean pocket. He had arms the size of most men’s thighs, generally built all over.

  “I figured I’d use today to make notes. I’ve already got a crew in line and they’ll be coming in the next few days. I’ll alert you when people start coming through here, no surprises.”

  Appreciating that, I smiled. “Well, you’ll have whatever you need from me. Just let me know.”

  “Thank you.”

  Rocking on my heels, I moved my lips. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

  He watched me venture to the staircase, my hand on the railing.

  “And do you personally need anything?” I asked, shrugging a little. “If so…”

  All he had to do was ask.

  His bottom lip lowered from the other and the smallest crease in the corners of his eyes could be made out in the hall of my aunt’s house.

  “I’ll let you know,” he said. “But really both of us should be fine.”

  I supposed I had to take his word for that and guessed this could be considered day one.

  Chapter Ten

  Alicia

  I had to give Gray’s kid one thing, her continued quiet only aided in my ability to get work done. I basically had one foot in Mayfield, Kansas, and one back home in Chicago. My days consisted of conference calls and telecasts, my headset on as I spoke with clients. My aunt had an office and that worked out well for my situation. I stayed in there pretty much all day, taking my breaks to ask Gray if he needed anything—which he never did—or take care of the essentials like eating or sleeping. A week went by easily this way, then a few more days after which I lost count. When it came to work I could easily get lost in it.

  I had to admit the first couple days had been… intense. I wasn’t sure how all this would work, a child in my aunt’s house. I mean, children played and generally made noise.

  But not Gray’s daughter.

  When she wasn’t in the living room or at the kitchen table coloring, she was—I assumed—taking a nap. I figured this because when I didn’t find her in all the usual places the door would be closed to the guest room. Gray did say if she weren’t coloring she’d be napping, so yeah. I decided that was my best bet on her location. She actually slept quite a bit, more than I thought children usually did. But then again, I didn’t know much about kids. Kids did nap, though. So yes, I figured this was all normal. Besides the fact that she was eerily quiet in demeanor and play, she was normal.

  But then there was the piano… thing she did.

  I couldn’t remember what day it’d been when I found her a certain way at the piano in particular, but after I continued to spot her sitting on the piano bench by herself I lost count how many times I did after. She didn’t do this often, but when she did, she sat for what seemed like hours.

  Back facing the room, she’d have her palms in her lap. I knew because I wandered a little bit into the living room. I never came directly in, not wanting to bother or scare her. But once I was in, what she was doing could be easily seen. She sat there, quiet of course and she’d have her little forehead rested on the upper panel of the piano. Eyes open, she’d watch the keys, sometimes her little fingers in her lap moving. It was as if she was imitating playing, hearing it in her mind.

  One day, I wondered if she did play or if her fascination with the piano had to do with something else. Gray did say my aunt used to play for her.

  Maybe that’s it.

  I got lost watching her one day, truly fascinated. My headset still on after a call, I turned it off, my head tilted at the little girl. Her wild locks pooled on the piano keys, her fingers moving.

  “She’s not bothering you, is she?”

  Despite his size and overall stature, Gray could be as quiet as a weeping willow’s branches in the wind.

  I turned to find him behind me, his hands together and lips pressed firmly in concern. His intense blue eyes creased hard in the corners and I realized he had a constant worry there even when he seemed at ease, the day we met coming back to me. He looked the same way then and as I’d seen him nearly every day for a little bit now. I noticed he always seemed to look as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  I think the little girl currently resting on my aunt’s piano gave me a clue as to why.

  I pulled my headset off, fixing and fluffing my hair, a stubborn habit with me I supposed.

  “Of course not,” I told him, slipping the mobile device into my pocket. “It’s like she’s too well behaved sometimes.”

  In fact, it was exactly that. His daughter didn’t play at all besides with her coloring book, which, if not for her extreme quiet, I would find surprising. I figured after she got herself settled in she’d at least go outside and play while she watched her dad work. Gray spent the majority of his time out there, though, he had brought in a handful of guys over the past few days. They’d completely torn down the shed and a garage that hadn’t looked usable. They’d been restructuring that, as well as making repairs to the roof and his title as a “handyman” didn’t seem much to suit him now. He obviously knew much more than he let on about his trade.

  What else is new?

  The man had been a complete mystery to me since he came into my life, so why not add another thing?

  With the tension that left the crease of Gray’s brow after my words, one would think I had given the man the greatest gift. Maybe in a way, I had. He had a tool in his hand, a large mallet of some sort and he stamped it restlessly on his palm.

  “Well, good,” he said, hurried like this conversation was taking everything for him to keep going. His throat hiking, he started to walk away.

  “It’s going well outside?” I asked, choosing to make small talk today. I didn’t often. He made it hard.

  His large boots stopped in the hall.

  “We’re making progress,” he told me, nodding. “We’ll probably be in the house after while. I’ll let you know when that happens.”

  “Okay, thank you.”

  He bounced his head of dusky locks once in acknowledgement. Passing a look back to the living room, he gripped the top of his mallet. His daughter still had her head rested against the back of the piano, little shoulders moving up and down with her breaths.

  “Does she know how to play?” I asked him. He looked back at me and I shrugged. “She just sits there a lot.”

  That worry touched his lips this time at the question and he turned his broad body to me, shaking his head.

  “Jo just used to play for her like I told you,” he said. “She probably just misses that.”

  But there was no probably in his statement. She did miss someone and that was easily discerned.

  He left me in the hallway after that and I had no choice but to move on to my next conference call.

  A few days later, I was surprised by a soft knock to my door. The surprise came from the fact that workers were warned—mostly by Gray—that knocking was strictly prohibited. He’d even put a note on the door that said to come to the backyard and bypass the house entirely. Under that, another note said there was a child in the home that needed quiet so if one had to knock, to do so softly.

  Which was why I only heard Ava’s knock because I happened to be walking past the door. She’d caught me on my way from the stairwell and into the living room, my intent to get a cold drink on this terribly hot day. My summer clothes had come in from my downtown apartment, but still, it seemed the heat down here in Kansas was tenfold over that in Chicago and I’d experienced some hella hot Midwestern climate changes.

  I knew it was Ava by the way her curls bounced through the glass design on the door, my eyes traveling that way and smiling a little.

  Rerouting, I stopped on another pair of eyes, though.

  Laura sat in her usual position in the middle of my aunt’s living ro
om, color pencil stopped in her hands as she looked up. She wasn’t always in the house on days Gray worked, but most. Sometimes she had summer school with a local school teacher in town.

  I wonder how well she does with her?

  I had to say I wasn’t really getting anywhere with the quiet little girl, not that I’d been trying. I pretty much kept my steps swift when passing in front of the living room, already feeling awkward since I generally didn’t know what to do around children. Laura seemed to be getting used to me being around. Normally, she didn’t even look at me when I passed by.

  But today she did, those little eyes dark and wide in their doe-eyed demeanor. Her expression somewhere between content and disinterest, she watched me and I did something incredibly random.

  I waved at her.

  I literally lifted my hand, moving my fingers just as randomly and awkwardly as I did the first day I caught Gray working and sweating his backside off on that shed. His t-shirt had been stuck to his back, his sizable arms engorged. He could be a very attractive man on a good day.

  Had he not seemed so tortured.

  Like that day, my wave went without a return, not surprising. Like father like daughter. Laura barely looked at me when I did it let alone wave back. Her gaze leaving mine, it returned to the coloring book, her hand moving underneath her.

  I let out a breath, Ava waiting at the door for me. Moving, my gaze slid back to Laura absentmindedly.

  And imagine my surprise when I managed to gain her attention again.

  I didn’t stop this time, moving toward the door, but she was definitely looking at me and for the first time, I felt I could make out a little bit of expression on her face. She wasn’t smiling or anything.

  But she didn’t look expressionless anymore.

  My notice of the acknowledgement could have been wishful thinking on my part to get something out of her, and in the end, I did take it for that when I opened the door. Ava had actually started to leave, I took so long, and she had a case of beer in her hands.

 

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