Cross My Heart: A Contemporary Romance Novel

by Abigail Strom

  Claire was still chattering. Watching her talk and laugh so easily with Jenna, he realized how much he wanted a better relationship with his daughter.

  When he looked at Jenna, he found himself wishing for something else, too.

  But he knew better than to believe that either wish would come true.

  Chapter Two

  The salmon was melting in her mouth, covered in some kind of lemon hazelnut sauce so delicious she chased the last drops with her roll after she’d eaten every bite of the fish. The asparagus, the salad…it was all perfect.

  Michael Stone struck her as a man who would always view perfection as the standard. He wouldn’t undertake anything lightly, and he’d want to be successful at everything he did.

  Based on what she’d seen of his house, she could tell he valued order and structure. He wouldn’t be a big fan of chaos, internal or external.

  Which meant his relationship with Claire had to be making him nuts. Because when you were fourteen, chaos was the name of the game.

  It was obvious over dinner that the two of them weren’t comfortable with each other. They veered from stiff and awkward to downright sarcastic—on Claire’s part, anyway.

  It was also obvious that Michael would love to be more at ease with his daughter. To be able to talk to her. To understand her.

  And she was willing to bet that behind the whole teenage snark thing, Claire wanted that, too.

  Jenna’s heart went out to both of them.

  She wondered about Claire’s mother. Michael wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and he’d mentioned Claire lived with her grandparents. Was her mother dead? How sad if that were the case.

  Claire was confessing, now, that she’d always dreamed about being a rock and roll star. Jenna shot a glance at Michael, knowing that very few fathers would want that for their daughters. He was frowning at her. “But you don’t even play an instrument,” he said.

  Claire looked mad. “I’ve been playing the piano for, like, years.”

  Michael stared at her. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “Gee, Dad, I don’t know. Maybe because you can only stand to see me three weeks out of the year? I hate to break it to you, but there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

  Jenna winced as Michael took a deep breath. “Claire, you know I’d see you more often if I could. And I email you all the time. Maybe if you answered more than one a week, or bothered to actually tell me something about your life—”

  “Why should I bother? And since when have you cared if I play an instrument or not? You don’t even like music. Every time I turn the radio on, you turn it right off again.”

  Jenna spoke up before the teenager could say anything else. “There’s a piano at my house, and I’d love to hear you play. I bet your dad would like that, too. Why don’t we go to my place for dessert?”

  Storm diverted. Claire’s eyes lit up, her mood going from sullen to excited in the blink of an eye. “That would be great! Can we, Dad? Please?”

  Michael blinked at the sudden mood shift, looking from his daughter to her. “Well…if you’re sure it’s all right?”

  “Of course it is. I can’t offer anything fancy enough to match this amazing dinner, but I’ve got ice cream.”

  He held her gaze for a moment longer, a silent thank you in his eyes, and Jenna felt a rush of warmth as she looked back at him.

  Claire wanted to go right then, but Jenna insisted that they clear the table and load the dishwasher first. A few minutes after they finished Jenna was ushering the two of them into her house.

  Claire went over to the wall where Jenna had hung her photos, the ones she always traveled with. Those pictures were always the first thing she unpacked in a new place, even if she was only staying a few weeks. They helped her feel at home no matter where she was.

  There were pictures of her family, of course. And signed photos of Bo Diddley and B.B. King and some of the other legendary musicians she’d been lucky enough to meet over the years. And there was her wall of female rocker fame, autographed album covers from some of the women who’d left their mark on the art form she loved.

  “How many have you met?” Claire asked in a hushed voice, as if they were in church.

  “A few,” she answered with a smile.

  Michael was standing beside his daughter. “I don’t recognize any of them.” He looked down at Claire, and something in his expression tugged at Jenna’s heart.

  “Who’s your favorite band?” she asked, wanting to draw him into the conversation.

  “I don’t have one. I listen to classical sometimes, but that’s about it.”

  Now, maybe, but in high school? “What did you listen to as a teenager?”

  “Whatever was on the radio, I guess. I never paid much attention to music. I was always pretty focused on school.”

  Jenna blinked at him. She’d met people like this before, people who didn’t seem to have any natural passion for music, and she’d never understood it. Music was such an integral part of the adolescent experience that she couldn’t imagine getting through those years without it.

  Claire had moved to the other side of the room now, where Jenna’s instruments were laid out. Her guitars, of course. And some of the pieces she’d collected from around the world—flutes, bells, stringed instruments, drums.

  Claire had picked up one of the bells. “This is so beautiful. Where’s it from?”

  “Tibet. That’s a magic bell, by the way.”

  “Magic? How is it magic?”

  Jenna went over and took the bell from her. “I used it a lot when I was a student teacher. I thought I’d faced some rough crowds when I was in a band, but you’ve never seen a rough crowd until you’ve stood up in front of an elementary school class near the end of a school day when they’re already bored out of their minds.”

  She grinned. “Imagine you’re third graders. There are forty kids in your class and the noise level is unbelievable. If I try to shout over you, it’ll only help for a minute or two. So here’s what we’ll do instead.”

  She held up the bell. “I’m going to ring this, and I want you to listen. When the last sound, and I mean the very, very last sound, has completely faded away, I want you to raise your hand.” She picked up the stick that went with the bell and struck it.

  The sweet sound resonated through the room, pure and clear. She saw Claire and Michael listening, really listening, the way her students always did. Then the sound got softer, softer, softer…until it was so faint you could barely hear it.

  Still, neither Michael nor Claire raised their hands.

  There was a whisper of sound left…less than a whisper…then nothing.

  Two hands went up, slowly.

  Jenna let the spell last a moment longer before she put down the bell.

  “Can you feel the silence? It’s actually inside you, isn’t it? Real silence, deep in your bones. Now we’re ready to learn something.”

  “That was totally cool,” Claire said after a minute.

  “It really was,” Michael agreed. “Maybe you’ll let me borrow that bell the next time I need to give a lecture to a group of medical students.”

  “I didn’t realize medical students were as rowdy as grade school kids, but you can borrow it any time. Now, Claire, why don’t you play something for us?” she asked, and Claire looked over at the piano in the corner. She shrugged her shoulders and looked uncomfortable.

  “I’m not very good,” she said. “And I don’t know what to play. I don’t think I—”

  “Play something your dad and I can sing to.”

  “You mean like a show tune, or something?”

  Michael looked alarmed. “I don’t know any show tunes. And I don’t sing.”

  The anxiety in his eyes mirrored his daughter’s, and for the first time Jenna saw the resemblance between them.

  “How about a Christmas carol?” she suggested. “Everyone knows the words to those. Come on,
Michael. If you tell me you don’t know the words to Jingle Bells I just won’t believe you.”

  That made him smile. “Okay, I admit it, I do know the words to Jingle Bells. But it’s July. You want us to sing Christmas songs in the middle of July?”

  “Sure, why not? Everyone loves Christmas music. Christmas carols are some of my favorite songs in the world.”

  “How come?” Claire asked, sounding interested. Jenna gestured for her to take a seat at the piano and fished a book of carols out of the box of sheet music beside her.

  “A lot of reasons, really. Memories of my family singing together on Christmas Eve. And the songs themselves are so beautiful. A lot of Christmas carols are like lullabies, have you ever noticed that? Away in a Manger, Silent Night.”

  She found the page for Silent Night and opened the book on the piano. Claire leaned forward, looking at the music. Michael came closer, too.

  “Something about that has always fascinated me. Jesus is supposed to be the son of God, right? Divine, all-knowing, all-powerful. But at Christmas time, we’re remembering that he was born into our world as a baby. Small and fragile, completely vulnerable. I always loved the idea that at Christmas the whole world is singing him a lullaby, holding him close and helping him sleep.”

  She glanced at Michael, who was standing behind Claire, reading the words of the carol over her shoulder. “You’re right,” he said. “It is like a lullaby. I never really thought about it.”

  “Can you play it, Claire?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Okay, then, let’s try it. Claire, you can sing too, or just play if you want.”

  Claire’s hands hovered over the keys for a moment. Then she started to play the simple melody, very softly. After the first few bars Jenna started to sing, her voice as soft as Claire’s playing. “Silent night, holy night…”

  She wasn’t sure if Michael would join in or not. But he did, after a moment, his warm baritone sending a tingle down her spine. It was a nice counterpoint to her contralto. And then Claire joined them, too, her unexpectedly sweet soprano rising above the voices of the two adults, causing them to glance at each other in surprise.

  They sang all three verses, the gentle magic of the song a tangible presence in the room. Jenna had moved closer to Michael without noticing it—or maybe he had moved closer to her. Either way she was conscious of his nearness, the solidity of him, the strength of the big body next to hers. And his voice was like the warm summer night outside.

  After they finished the final verse Claire let the last note linger, and when the sound had faded completely she twisted around on the piano bench to look up at them.

  “That was cool,” she said seriously.

  Her father put a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, it was.” He sounded husky, and he cleared his throat. “I didn’t know you could play like that. And your voice…your voice is beautiful, Claire.”

  “Thanks,” she said a little gruffly.

  Jenna felt a sudden burning behind her eyes.

  “Let’s do another one,” she said quickly, and Claire turned the page of the music book to find another carol. It was Hark the Herald Angels Sing, which made their next musical effort a little more lively.

  They kept going for a while after that, singing several more songs, until Jenna glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. “If you guys are going to get any dessert I should dish it up now. I didn’t realize how late it was. Why don’t you have a seat on the couch and I’ll bring out the ice cream?”

  A few minutes later she came out of the kitchen with three bowls.

  “Thanks,” Michael said as he took his, and she knew he was talking about more than the ice cream.

  “My pleasure,” she said. And realized she meant it. She’d had fun tonight, but she’d also been…touched.

  She decided not to analyze the feeling too much. The fact was, she’d had a good time with Michael and his daughter, and she was glad that they’d had a good time, too.

  She was touched again when Claire asked her to come back to their house with them. She said it was to lend her a CD they’d talked about over dinner, but Jenna knew she wanted to prolong the evening a little more.

  She didn’t have the heart to say no, so the three of them walked back to Michael’s house together. Once they were inside, Claire ran upstairs to get the CD.

  Down in the foyer, it was suddenly quiet. “I’ll walk you back home,” Michael said after a moment, looking down at her.

  “You don’t have to do that,” she objected.

  “It’s late. I’ll walk you.”

  “But I live next door. In a ridiculously safe neighborhood. Also, I’ve spent the last twelve years of my life walking alone on the streets of Chicago, Detroit, L.A…”

  “Only because I wasn’t there,” he said, smiling at her. “Call me old-fashioned, but it’s just not in me to let a woman walk home alone.”

  She shook her head slowly. “I didn’t know men like you still existed. Okay, you can walk me home. And if I drop my handkerchief on the way you can pick it up for me.”

  “Deal,” he said with a grin.

  “Okay, here it is,” Claire said, running down the steps with the CD in her hand. “You can borrow it as long as you want. And…” She hesitated.

  “Yes?” Jenna asked after a moment.

  “Just…thank you. For tonight. It was really fun.”

  “I had fun, too. And I’ll be seeing you again, won’t I? You’re right next door, after all. And don’t forget you promised to watch the Mollies practice next week.”

  Claire’s face glowed. “I won’t forget,” she said. She looked at her dad with the same expression, which made Jenna very happy. “Good night, you guys.”

  “Good night,” they both said.

  Jenna glanced at Michael, who was watching his daughter disappear up the stairs. Then he turned to her. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he said as he opened the door and the two of them stepped outside. “Claire was so different, tonight. With you here.”

  “It was my pleasure. And I had a great time, not to mention an incredible meal.”

  They walked in silence for a minute, across the broad expanse of his beautiful lawn towards her much more unkempt one. The soft night air was lush and fragrant.

  She glanced up at him, and the moonlight was bright enough that she could see his face clearly, although she wasn’t sure about his expression. He seemed to be frowning a little.

  “Michael, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  He looked down at her. “Uh…sure. I mean, no. I don’t mind.”

  “I should warn you, it’s personal. So don’t answer if you don’t feel like it.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “How personal?”

  “Why does Claire live with her grandparents? And not with you?”

  “Oh,” he said, as if he’d been expecting something else. They were close to her back door now, and she took a detour to a bench in the back yard. She sat sideways, facing him with her legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her shins, while he faced forward. He didn’t answer her question right away, and she had a chance to study him.

  His hands were in his pockets and his legs were stretched out, one ankle hooked over the other. Even in the moonlight she could sense the tension in him—his shoulders stiff, his muscles tight.

  “It’s okay if you’d rather not talk about it.”

  He shrugged. “No, it’s all right.” He turned his head to look at her. “Claire’s mother and I split up when Claire was three. After the divorce, Angela took Claire to Florida, to be near her family. A few years ago, Angela was killed in a car accident.”

  Jenna’s heart clenched. So she had died.

  Michael took a breath. “I thought about moving down there, but I had commitments at the hospital I couldn’t walk away from. I asked Claire to come live with me, but her grandparents offered her a home and she said she’d rather stay where she was.”

  Ouch.

  “
Have you asked her again, since then?”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I think she’s better off where she is,” he said finally. “My schedule is pretty hectic, and I don’t have family in the area. It would just be me, and I wouldn’t be around that much. All Claire’s friends are in Florida, not to mention her grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins…Angela had a huge family.”

  “You could ask, though. Even if she ends up saying no, she might like to be asked.”

  He looked at her. “You know, you’re pretty pushy for a woman I just met four hours ago.”

  That made her smile. “Fair enough. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “No, you’re right. I should ask her. The truth is…” He hesitated. “The truth is, she’d probably say no, which would hurt more than I’d like to admit. Or…she might say yes. And that would scare the crap out of me.”

  Her heart tightened in her chest. “Michael, I saw how you were with Claire tonight. Just the fact that you invited me over, knowing it would make her happy…it’s obvious you’re trying as hard as you can.”

  “Sure I am. You think I like being a lousy dad?”

  “You’re not—”

  “Don’t,” he said roughly. She stared at him, startled, and he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Sorry. I’m not usually like this. The only person in the world who can get under my skin is Claire. Sometimes I wish…”

  “What?” she asked after a moment.

  “Nothing.”

  He closed his eyes. One of his hands, the one nearest to her, was fisted on his thigh. Without stopping to think, she reached out and covered it with hers.

  His eyes snapped open and his head swiveled towards her. After a moment he relaxed his hand, turning it so they were palm to palm. Then he laced his fingers through hers.

  Jenna stopped breathing. Warm tingles, like darts of electricity, were shooting up her arm and all through her body.

  His eyes were on her—not asking or demanding anything, just…on her. She watched his chest rise with a quick, sharp breath.

  She felt lightheaded.

  There were so many things she liked about this man. His intelligence, his love for his daughter…even his devotion to science, because it was a passion so different from any of her own.