by Karen Welch
All the arrangements have been completed for your visit to the Big Apple. You have a suite reserved on a lower floor of my own fine hotel. Your virtue will be quite safe, as I could never take the elevator to you at an inappropriate hour without incurring the disapproval of Jimmy the elevator boy. (He's old enough to be my grandfather!) We will be able to share all our meals, spend all our waking hours together, and I can kiss you good morning and good night for six days in a row., after which, I shall be completely desolate for three months.
I’ve talked with John and we’ve made plans for trips to your requested monuments and landmarks. We have tickets for Carmen, A Little Night Music, and Radio City Music Hall. As I told you, on Friday night you will have to endure a chamber concert featuring several big name headliners, including yours truly. It's a benefit for one of Peg's charities, and she has made use of us before. It should be a good show; these guys are great fun to play with. We'll rehearse that morning, so I wonder if you might like to come along and visit with Peg. She's amazed that I've found a girl I'm willing to bring home to meet the folks. If she only knew that she's already met you, but I haven't given that away yet. I want to see her face when she recognizes you. I think the two of you will get on famously, as you are alike in many ways.
Jana is looking forward to meeting you also. You’ll find her pleasant, if a bit reserved. Still waters run deep with Jana.
Milo has been in a surprisingly genial mood since I returned. It may have something to do with a certain wildly influential conductor who is very excited about my little student workshops. It never hurts to have friends in high places. Milo is still pushing his bizarre idea for a new recording project, and in the end I fear I’ll be forced to compromise. But he is more respectful now at least, not quite ramming the thing down my throat.
I plan to have lunch with him tomorrow, at which time I will explain, in no great detail, how you and I have become “friends.” That’s all he needs to know for now. I want him to meet you, see for himself the kind of angel you are. I can't imagine he'll be anything but supportive when he sees how happy I am. Really, as long as I'm keeping my commitments, staying sober and playing well, he'll be satisfied. If he thinks you're contributing to my stability, all the better.
Emily, you can't imagine how excited I am at the thought of having you here, showing you off. I'm afraid after the photographers get sight of you, we may not have much peace. Never fear, John will be on hand. But I can guarantee you some clippings to take home. For the first time, I would welcome a little press as now I have something to be proud of. You might practice a blinding smile, followed by tucking your head and running for cover. That's the best way to handle them. A neat little wave of the hand adds a nice touch, too. Since I've for so long been a confirmed loner, your presence will no doubt create something of a sensation. You won't mind will you? Think how much you'll be doing to enhance my reputation.
Speaking of John, he's anxious to get to know you since he can see first-hand what a change you’ve made in me. He's known me since I was a little boy, and he never had much hope for me I fear. He says he wishes I would have a pensive mood now and then, just for old times' sake. John is a great man to have watching one's back, much like your Jack. He's probably the closest thing I have to real family, sort of a brother, father, uncle rolled into one.
While you’re here, I plan to introduce you to a certain very helpful sales clerk at Tiffany's. I’d like you to show her the type of ring you prefer so that I can make the right choice and not have you regret ever accepting my offer. We can tell her we're just helping out a friend, right? Surely, she would never suspect us. Unless she remembers the hours she spent with me trying to choose your Christmas present. I warn you, I'm hopeless. I've become totally transparent.
I'm sending Robert to drive you. I know he will take the best care of you.
I'll be waiting in the lobby for you Monday night and as I'm sure you will be starving, we'll go straight in to supper. See, I've learned a great deal about the care and feeding of Emily already.
Yours for always,
Stani
Chapter Fifty
From the warmth of the lobby, John Kimble watched as Stani raced through the rain, dodging in front of the doorman to open the car door. The umbrella he carried bobbed wildly as he took the outstretched hand of the girl, pulling her from the rear seat and wrapping her in his arms beneath its shelter. In the middle of the sidewalk crowded with pedestrians rushing past, heads lowered against the rain, Stani stood his ground, kissing her soundly. Robert had unloaded her bags and stood waiting for instructions, a look of pleased indulgence on his face. But they were both oblivious it seemed, to the attention they were attracting. Finally, John dashed out to them, tapping Stani on the shoulder. “For God's sake, lad, get her in out of the rain! You're blocking traffic!”
As he rode up in the elevator with them, he had his first opportunity to get a good look at her. Stani had said repeatedly that she was beautiful, but John had not expected her to be so elegant or so out of the ordinary. Her heavy dark hair and those startling gray eyes were certainly attractive; but there was an even more appealing quality to her features, an intelligence in her expression, that spoke of breeding and strength of character. Her speech was refined; her manner when they’d been introduced had been warm and confident. In the few minutes he had to sum her up, before he left the elevator to take her bags to her room, he concluded this Emily was the perfect match for Stani. In her own way, she was as unusual, as much an original, as he was.
John had always known it would take an exceptional woman to understand Stani. He had so little practical experience, growing up in a bubble the way he had. He would need a partner to guide him through the business of everyday living. It would take a woman who understood his world, his extraordinary talent and all that went with it. It would be her job to protect him when he pushed himself too hard, to shield him from the demands of others who knew that he was often too eager to please. While John had been impressed with Stani's efforts to learn more about what he called living the life of a man, he knew only too well there would always be the need for someone to guard the more vulnerable side of his nature. This girl, with her simple style and her straightforward manner, might be just the thing to settle him down, give his life some purpose beyond exhausting all his energy playing that violin.
John had been the one, as Stani worked his way back from the accident, who had seen most clearly the tormented drive to recover his former skill. He had been with him after those first performances, when Stani had left the stage trembling with fatigue. While John eased him out of his coat and stripped off the sweat-soaked shirt, he had watched as Stani struggled to hide the pain, fighting to hold back tears of frustration. It was a tribute to the boy's talent that he'd been able to convince Milo too soon that he was ready to go back to work. But John knew the truth, that the arm was still weak, that his fingers were numb and his shoulder stiff with pain by the end of each performance. He also knew that Stani was driven as much by fear as by the desire to play again. He had to respect him, but at the same time he feared the pressure would ultimately be too much. Whisky was a hard woman to leave, John knew only too well. And Stani was all too willing to admit he had a fondness. If the man John had met in Scotland had indeed been Stani's father, then he could well have inherited the habit. That, coupled with pain and fear of failure, could prove disastrous.
Stani had persisted, turned away from the temptation to drink, forcing himself to work and bear with the resulting pain. But his mood had suffered. He'd grown increasingly depressed, convinced that his survival was a cruel joke. John had been frightened by the dark moods, the mad drive and the long periods of silent, almost angry contemplation. When Stani began to suffer from insomnia, wandering his room at night, stumbling through his days in a stupor, John had suggested as gently as he could that it was time to seek help.
That had led to the search for memories, the questions about the days surrounding the acci
dent, trips to the scenes of that night and finally to this girl. As skeptical as he’d been, John could see now that had been the turning point for Stani. His meeting with Emily had altered everything, lifted him from the depression, set him on a path of change and, John suspected, renewed his sense of his own manhood. He could well understand why Stani now walked with a spring in his step, why he so often wore a smile on his face for no apparent reason. This slender, graceful girl, with her smoky eyes and generous mouth, would provide inspiration for any man.
He had only to see the way she looked at Stani, her eyes gleaming, the way she gently linked her arm in his, to be satisfied that this was that one exceptional woman who would both love and guide him. When John left the elevator to take the bags to her room, while they went on to Stani's suite, he smiled at the thought of the boy's good fortune. Just as he had once wondered about Stani's relationship with Peg Shannon, he could now imagine the joy these two would share. But, very different from Peg, this Emily was not a woman to come and go. She would make a total commitment to a man or none at all. This girl had won Stani's heart, touched his soul and changed his life. Now that he had seen them together, John understood that not only had this slip of a girl pulled Stani to safety in the midst of one storm, she intended to stay beside him through whatever storms the future might bring.
Pity Milo, John mused, now that Stani had determined to strike out on his own, pursue his own goals. Added to that was the presence of this girl, whose strength might well match his own if Milo posed a threat to Stani's happiness. John admired Milo, but he also recognized that in his single-minded approach to Stani's career, Milo had very nearly sent him to his death. He had let him run out of control, exposed him to a lifestyle for which he had no preparation. Stani was naive and inexperienced, but Milo had seen his inclusion in the New York night life as an opportunity for publicity, a chance to advance his reputation. Had John been aware of what was happening during those months, he would have reconsidered his decision to stay in London. Now he was dedicated to protecting Stani, as he had done when he was just a little boy, not only from the unwanted attention of strangers, but from undue pressure from Milo. He would gladly welcome an ally, and he suspected that Emily would quickly perceive the tension that now existed between Stani and Milo.
After Stani's first visit to her, when it had been obvious that he intended to pursue her, John had wondered about her reaction to the letter Milo had sent after the accident. They had never heard from her again, as Milo had been so sure they would. She had remained silent during the months when the tabloids had been persistently scouring for any clue as to Stani's involvement in the events of that night. When Stani had returned after Christmas, he had told John of the girl's reluctance to face Milo after accepting his insulting payoff. Stani had been prepared to call Milo to task, but John had argued that it would only stir up the past, just when Stani wanted to get on with their future. He’d pointed out to Stani that her willingness to come to New York, to meet Milo in spite of her fears, should be proof enough of her commitment to him. Let Milo see for himself this amazing girl, who had first saved him and now loved him. Even Milo should be able to appreciate all she’d done for Stani, even if he found it difficult to comprehend such selfless devotion.
John realized he would soon have the two of them to watch over if his suspicions were correct and Stani intended to marry her. She would be the marrying kind, John was sure. No living arrangement, but a good old-fashioned wedding, followed no doubt by the arrival of babies. Stani had talked at such length about the baby delivered on Christmas Eve, marveling at the miracle of childbirth, the awe-inspiring cry of a newborn. Never, as far as John knew, had Stani even been in the same room with a baby, yet now he seemed eager to learn everything about the nurture of infants.
Stani was full of new interests, all pointing to the course he was charting toward a life with Emily. There were the books, purchased from a list John had carried all over Manhattan in an effort to locate; books on faith, guides to reading the scriptures, a history of the church, and a thick black Bible in the recommended edition, which he knew Stani kept by his chair in the new sitting room. He hadn't asked questions, but he was sure that also had to do with Stani's plans. Emily was a person of faith he had said, and John could only surmise that Stani had experienced some sort of conversion himself. When he had gone out alone on a Sunday morning, John had been caught off guard. But on his return, Stani told him he had walked to a nearby church and apologized for not having thought to invite him. He was more than welcome to come along next week, he offered. If he had been aware of John's astonished gaze, he had not let on.
There were other changes, spontaneously hailing cabs in front of the hotel instead of calling for the car, a shopping expedition to an off-the-rack men's store, the trip to a market where he bought tea and several other staples for the tiny kitchen in the suite. He had declared that he intended to learn to at least make his own breakfast, his own tea and toast. He talked of the wonderful meals he’d eaten with Emily and her friends, describing the succulent wild duck and delectable chocolate pie. This boy, who invariably ordered red meat and potatoes, never ate sweets and seemed to take his meals for granted, eating when food was laid before him, now searched out restaurants, reading the menus posted by the doors, even making notes for future reference. When John finally insisted on an explanation for this bizarre behavior, Stani said with a grin that Emily loved to eat, in fact ate much more than the usual three squares a day. He needed to be prepared to keep her well fed while she was with him in New York.
Just when John thought he'd seen all the changes, at least for now, Stani had begun composing. While he had always improvised, sometimes for hours on end, making up variations on any tune for his own amusement, he had never before written out his creations. When John arrived at the suite one morning to find the little dining table littered with big sheets of staff paper, and Stani, still in his pajamas, hard at work, he had been momentarily stunned. As Stani played snatches of a melody, making notations and humming to himself, John had looked over his shoulder and seen at the top of the page the words, “Emily's Theme—Simple Gifts.” Stani had assured him that he had not gone mad, but rather had a sudden inspiration. One of many, John had commented.
Now that he’d seen her, it all made sense. He would have more changes to look forward to, equally unpredictable, requiring him to think on his feet to keep things running smoothly. Not a bad job for an old copper, he told himself. If he had known, when he first met little Stani Moss all those years ago, that he would someday be playing nursemaid to a pair of eccentric lovebirds, he would never have believed how entertaining it might be.
John waited until after ten to go up to Stani's suite. The girl must be exhausted after the long trip, but he knew they would want time together. He’d been amused by the way Stani had insisted on her sleeping a safe distance away. Not that he didn't trust himself, he said, but he was not, after all, made of stone. And Emily seemed at times unaware of the effect she had on him. Grinning, he had added that then again, perhaps she was aware, and that was the problem.
When he knocked on the door, it took some minutes for Stani to answer. As a trained observer, who could assess the situation in a room upon entry, John was hard put not to laugh. Two flushed faces, with broad smiles and sparkling eyes, appeared in the open doorway. Emily stood behind Stani, her arms around his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder.
“I'm just checking to see if you need anything else tonight.” John found it difficult to look Stani in the eye with a straight face.
“Please come in, John. Stani was just about to surrender.” Emily jerked her head toward the chess board on the table.
Closing the door behind him, John shook his head in amazement. “Is that what you two have been doing all this time, playing chess?”
“Oh, no.” Stani led her to a chair, pulling her down across his lap. “We had dinner.”
“And Stani took me downstairs and introduced me t
o most of the hotel staff.” Emily was idly twisting her fingers in the boy's hair, gazing warmly into his face.
“And then we ate again.” His eyes half closed, Stani nuzzled her shoulder.
“And then I challenged him to a game of chess, and beat the socks off him, twice.” Taking his face between her hands, she dropped a kiss on his forehead.
“Ah, so you've been busy little bees, haven't you? And I can see you don't need me tonight, lad. I don't suppose you'd like me to walk Emily downstairs, would you?” Both pairs of eyes turned to him with the same incredulous expression. “No, I thought not. What time in the morning, Stani?”
“Emily's going to phone me as soon as she's awake, so I can order her breakfast. I'll call you when we're done. We'll want to get to the Metropolitan by ten, I guess.” Stani went back to his nuzzling and John let himself out. He spent the rest of the evening envisioning a very different life in the coming months, filled with unaccustomed laughter and downright happiness. Nothing like the past three years he'd spent watching Stani come back to life.
Chapter Fifty-one
Emily was surprised at how well she slept that first night. After the long car ride, which had been entertaining in itself, as the kindly Robert regaled her with stories of driving his various clients around New York, she had expected to be exhausted. But as soon as she stepped out of the car into Stani's warm embrace, she'd felt the excitement of the city, not to mention his own enthusiastic welcome. They’d laughed and talked, toured the hotel and finally settled down in front of his little fireplace. He had been so eager to entertain her, feed her and make her feel at home. When he’d finally taken her to her suite, they'd spent considerable time in each other’s arms. She’d gone to bed flushed and more than a little aroused. But she had slept soundly, knowing his would be the first face she would see when she woke.