A Love Song To Cherish: A Sweet and Wholesome Christian Novella (Cherish Series Book 1)

by Josie Riviera

  Dorothy nodded. “I’m sure the wedding will be lovely.” She didn’t know much about Alice except she’d been married twice before and had one daughter. Nicholas and Alice had only been dating a few months, and Dorothy had been surprised when Nicholas had announced their wedding plans so soon.

  Ryan placed a light hand on Dorothy’s back while they followed Nicholas to a round wooden table in the corner. Mrs. Addyson sat with a group of smiling men and women whom Dorothy thought she vaguely recognized.

  “Have you been sick, Dorothy?” Ryan murmured, slowing his pace to detain her. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Nothing of interest.” She shrugged and took a small step away from him. “Thanks for asking. I’m handling it.”

  “I’m here if you need anything.”

  His words hung amidst a background of dishes clattering and people talking. Unexpectedly, a wave of desolation surged through her for all those lost years between them.

  Realizing he was waiting for an answer, she blurted, “Are you? You’re here for what—a week—before you disappear again for ten years?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “I was offered a full scholarship to one of the most prestigious music colleges in the country. I was eighteen and needed to leave this town. I wanted more, and somehow I sense you’re angry at me for my decision.”

  “You always wanted to be on top and you’ve achieved your goals.”

  “Have I? Don’t presume what you don’t know. You’re the one who had the world simpering at her feet.”

  She arched an eyebrow and added a glare. “Who’s presuming now?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and lowered his tone. “Look … I’ve missed you, Dorothy, all right? I’ve thought about you a lot. You were only fifteen when I left and I couldn’t allow myself to …” His gaze drifted over her features, lingering on the top button of her ivory silk shirt before focusing on her lips.

  “Dorothy!” Mrs. Addyson waved from a wooden table in the corner of the restaurant. “I’ve saved you a seat next to me and ordered you and Ryan a glass of sweet tea.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Addyson.” Dorothy glanced over and beamed a smile. When she turned back to Ryan, he was watching her with undisguised interest. “Ryan, I—”

  “Go.” He directed a meaningful glance toward Mrs. Addyson. “I’ll check our jackets and then join you.”

  When Dorothy reached the table, Mrs. Addyson drew her down to sit beside her. Their table faced a large window with a wide frame.

  “This is such a pretty night for a pre-wedding party, it’s a shame the bride isn’t able to attend,” Mrs. Addyson said.

  “Nicholas mentioned that Alice is working at the hospital and would be late.”

  Mrs. Addyson’s gaze flicked upward. “The girl’s got more twisted excuses than a pretzel factory.” Her tapered, polished pink nail finger-tapped her iced-tea glass. “I’m so pleased to see you and Ryan together again. You two always got along so well, and I know how much you missed him when he went off to college. For weeks afterward you looked like you were eating sadness by the tablespoon.”

  Dorothy took a sip of her sweet tea, then placed her napkin on her lap. “A lot has happened since we were teenagers.”

  He’d become successful with a flourishing career and knew where he was headed. She’d gotten sandpapered by wrist pain that had ended her profession before it had begun.

  “The Bible says ‘For everything there is a season.’” Mrs. Addyson’s freckled hand came down to rest on Dorothy’s arm. “This is the season for you and Ryan to become reacquainted.”

  Perhaps, though a week went by extremely fast, Dorothy mused, toying with her delicious sugar-free lemon cake two hours later. By ten o’clock, the long day coupled with nagging wrist pain was taking its toll. Despite Ryan’s relaxed posture and light-hearted conversation, she could think of nothing else except returning to the inn for another dose of pain medication, followed by a long soak in the luxurious tub, then lounging in the king-size bed.

  She pondered logging onto her laptop and checking the asking price of Musically Yours, the vacant music store. Mrs. Addyson had mentioned the former owners had lowered the price and were actively looking for offers.

  Contemplating the possibilities of opening her own music store, Dorothy stared out the restaurant’s window at the full moon lighting a starlit sky.

  She didn’t have more than a hundred dollars in her savings account and she doubted any bank would give an out-of-work pianist a business loan.

  Murmuring to Ryan that they should leave, she placed her fork on her dessert plate. She should rest for the two-hour practice the following morning with the rugged, dark-haired man who’d sat beside her all evening, teasing her in his deep voice, his muscled leg casually brushing against hers.

  Chapter Five

  At nine o’clock the following morning, Ryan strode down the carpeted hallway of the Cherish Hills Inn and tapped on Dorothy’s door. “Ready?” he prompted, when she opened the door and invited him into her room.

  “I’ll get my jacket.” She was dressed in a pair of rich-navy twill ankle pants, a slouchy burgundy sweater and brown suede ankle boots. Her room was feminine, an understated floral scent lingering in the air. He smiled, finding comfort in the fragrance he remembered from long ago.

  “I need to be finished by noon,” he said. “I’m expecting a call from my agent.”

  “Again?” She favored him with a smile and an exaggerated, knowing nod. “Don’t tell me—let me guess. Another important phone call.”

  Affectionately, he rumpled her shiny hair that hung loose and wavy down her shoulders. She’d taken down the twisted braid from the previous day, and he felt the desire to snatch her in his arms and kiss the smiling mischief from her lips.

  This was the fun-loving Dorothy he appreciated, and he was gratified by the knowledge he’d put a chink in the cool wall she’d erected when they’d rehearsed.

  “My agent is confirming the audition date in Palermo for Verdi’s opera Don Carlos.” Ryan hoisted his music bag over his shoulder. “The competition is aggressive. Jack Youngston, an upperclassman of mine when I attended Juilliard, is also interested in the role.”

  “With a voice like yours, you’ll get the part.”

  “Jack is very, very good.” Ryan twisted the top button of his pea coat. “I’m only thirty and considered young in the competitive opera world. My voice is still maturing and the role of Philip is challenging. Jack is a few years older and his experience is broader than mine.”

  She grabbed her jacket and Ryan draped it around her shoulders. “I’m not familiar with the opera, Don Carlos.”

  “I played the recording for you a long time ago,” Ryan said, insisting on carrying her briefcase. “In the role, Philip evolves from a tyrant to a long-suffering husband.”

  They advanced to the lobby and nodded to the white-haired innkeeper behind the reception desk who looked up from his newspaper and extended a greeting.

  The hum of a television in the parlor brought back images of Ryan’s father sitting night after night staring blankly at the same black and white sitcoms. Years before that, his father had invited Ryan to watch Westerns with him.

  John Wayne. Memories of popping popcorn with his father on their old gas stove.

  A person missed the oddest things after losing someone. Little things.

  He gazed at the heartwarming stacked rock fireplace in the parlor and pulled in a breath, ambushed by remembrances of his father’s struggles with the demons in his head before he’d taken his own life. He’d hanged himself from a bed sheet noose tied to a wooden rafter right in the middle of their living room while a cheerful fire had burned in the grate and canned laughter had come from the television. Ryan had been the one to find him.

  Afterward had been a blur. When Ryan emerged from the deep fog of grief and disbelief, he’d realized he had no c
hoice. He had to get away from Cherish and somehow, some way, climb to the top. He needed a fresh start and looked toward the day when he’d turned eighteen.

  Repeatedly shaking his head, he twisted the lion signet ring on the pinky finger of his right hand, the only keepsake he’d kept from his father’s possessions.

  “That ring was your dad’s.” Dorothy regarded him. “You’ve worn it every day since his death?”

  “Yes.”

  She offered a quivery smile and lightly placed her fingers on his sleeve. “I know how much he meant to you. He was a good father.”

  “Yes.”

  In the beginning, perhaps.

  Ryan wiped at the tears prickling his eyes, aware of the familiar knot settling in his gut. Bleakly, he continued to stare at the enormous fireplace.

  She stared at the fire with him, offering silence and her presence.

  After several beats, she asked, “And what happens next in Don Carlos?”

  He didn’t answer for a moment, silently thanking her for changing the subject. Taking a long breath to control his voice, he guided her to the entry door and opened it. “Near the end of the opera, Philip laments his loveless marriage and loneliness.”

  He could empathize with the sorrow, the resignation, the emptiness of a man like Philip. No matter where Ryan searched, he never felt fulfilled.

  He swallowed and dragged his thoughts away from that fateful night and all the fears it had brought.

  “You’ll have to fake the loneliness part,” Dorothy said, a tiny smile emerging. “When you’re popular you’re never lonely, and from what I read about you last night on the internet, you’re a household name in Europe.”

  The knowledge she’d been checking up on him made him grin. “So your philosophy is if you’re popular, you’re never lonely?”

  She avoided his gaze. “My mother’s saying.”

  “Was she right?”

  “When I was a teen, I grew resentful of my mother, although I’ve learned to look at situations differently and now have a different perspective.” Dorothy slowed her steps. “I’ve prayed about our relationship and believe she was getting my life confused with her own.”

  “So God gave you an answer and your problems and reservations were fixed?”

  “Nothing changed.” Dorothy tapped her fingertips together. “My faith gave me the sight to understand. God’s response gave me a new way to see my situation. My mother wasn’t overbearing; she was simply being a mom and therefore engrossed in what she believed was in my best interests.”

  “For example, doing all she could to ensure you were prom queen in your senior year?”

  “You heard?” She smiled. “You were well gone by then.”

  “Thanks to your brother,” Ryan amended, “I kept up with more news about you than you’ll ever know.”

  Her gaze narrowed into a pensive frown. He’d noted she’d asked for clarification while she played in their rehearsal, seeming to look at him for assurances. He offered a smile.

  Inwardly, he was concerned.

  “Please continue. We were talking about your mother,” he reminded.

  She looked toward the street. “When I complained to Nicholas about our mother, he would say ‘look again.’ So I did. And then I’d complain, and he’d say ‘keep looking.’ His faith in God is tremendous.”

  “Your brother’s an awesome guy. I hope Alice is the right person for him.”

  “I haven’t met her yet.”

  “Neither have I.” Ryan chuckled. “Does she exist?”

  “With any luck we’ll get to meet her before the wedding.” With a wry grin, Dorothy regarded her rental car parked at the curb. “Why don’t we walk to the church? The weather is gorgeous.”

  He supported her suggestion with a chuckle and clasped her hand. One block later, they went by Whitney’s Ice Cream. The posted sign in the window stated an eleven o’clock opening time.

  Despite their quick stroll, Dorothy stopped to peer at the purple and yellow pansies blooming in wooden planters outside Cherish Styles and Clips. “I love flowers, especially bluebonnets.” She bent her head, sniffed, then grinned up at him. “Often I think about the times when we’d skip stones across the open stream near the abandoned railway line. The bluebonnets grew so cheerful along the train tracks and always made me happy.”

  His lips twitched. “From what I recall, we shared a slingshot to snap petals off those cheerful bluebonnets.” They started forward and their laughing gazes merged.

  The air smelled fresh and clean, and the morning sky blurred from dusky rose to a clear blue. Soon a glowing sun would raise the humidity level. This particularly perfect day sent a stab of homesickness right through him. Nothing beat a spring day in South Carolina.

  “Last night at dinner while you were talking with your brother, Mrs. Addyson told me you’re a concert pianist in New York City.” Ryan tightened his fingers around hers. “Where have you performed?”

  “Here and there,” Dorothy said dismissively. “You won’t be seeing my name on the Carnegie Hall marquee any time soon.”

  “Why not? Your piano ability at rehearsal was excellent.”

  She didn’t answer and kept her gaze fixed on the sidewalk.

  “Will you be returning to New York after the wedding?” he prompted.

  She glanced down at their linked hands. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “I have undisputed rights to ask all the questions I please because I’m your best friend.” They rounded the corner to a local coffee shop. “Coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He placed her briefcase and his music bag near the entrance to the shop and emerged five minutes later carrying a bag with two cups of steaming black coffee poking out of it.

  She smiled as he handed her a cup. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She gazed up at him, her soft brown hair cascading about her shoulders—so lovely against her flawless complexion and pale pink lips. He studied her for a long silent beat. The summer she’d turned fourteen, she’d cut her long hair into a short bob to copy the latest hairstyle in a popular teen magazine. Predictably, the other girls in her class had soon followed her example. Dorothy, the trendsetter. It had been all he could do to rein in his tongue that summer because he preferred her hair loose and long.

  “You remembered I like my coffee black?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Yes, because I once admonished you for drinking coffee at such a young age.”

  “My weakness.” She returned his grin and tasted.

  “Do you have any other weaknesses?” he asked.

  “More than I can count.” She slanted him a glance. “You?”

  His gaze lowered to her face. She was blushing.

  Silently, he pondered the edges of the corner he’d effectively pushed them into, took her coffee from her, and set both their cups and the bag they came in on the sidewalk.

  “Only one weakness, my love, and she’s standing beside me.” He inspected her slender form, the way the color in her face intensified as he continued to stare at her. She looked like a tender delicate flower, framed by the wholesomeness of their charming hometown.

  “You’re beautiful,” he breathed.

  Her shimmering eyes widened, enormous in her heart-shaped face, adding to the effect of her sweet beauty. And right there on Memorial Street across from the fountain in the town square, he caught her in his arms. He tipped her chin up, his mouth moving closer to hers.

  Slowly bending his head, he kissed her. She hesitated, then kissed him back while his hands shifted protectively around her back.

  “You’re a stunning, desirable woman and I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” he whispered.

  “Ryan, I—” She stirred and his arms tightened.

  The kiss ended as abruptly as it had begun, and for a lingering second, they gazed at each other. The soft yielding in her eyes, a vivid emerald-green, was as if she had spoken aloud.
<
br />   She’d felt the same attraction pulling them together.

  A breeze rustled the pink and purple blooms of a redbud tree, and overhead a male mockingbird sang the song of every bird except his own.

  Despite the exquisite feeling of Dorothy’s slim body pressed to his, loneliness invaded Ryan’s thoughts. Perhaps if he kissed her again, if they stayed where they were, she’d be able to drive away the aching desolation, the ceaseless tension that had become a part of him.

  How could the life he’d chosen cause such a strain? Soon he would have everything he’d dreamed about, and there was no reason for him to feel such sadness. Plenty of people were stressed like tightly coiled springs because of overwork, he rationalized. It was the price a person paid to become a winner.

  A red-haired customer balancing two trays of coffee dashed out of the shop, jostling them out of the way. Her sunglasses slipped down her nose and she slid them back up. “Sorry!” she called as she rushed past.

  Dorothy blinked up at Ryan. “What was that about?”

  “The woman was obviously in a hurry.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant.” With a fragile smile, Dorothy pulled from his embrace.

  He brushed a kiss on her temple and studied her exquisite face before retrieving their coffee cups. “Shall we continue our walk?” he asked.

  She drew an unsteady breath, then considered him before refusing the coffee he extended.

  “Do what?”

  “Shall we continue our—”

  Drawing her delicate eyebrows up, she grinned before racing off. “Last one to the church treats the other person to an ice cream!” she called behind her shoulder.

  Hurriedly, he stuffed the coffees into the bag. He seized his music and her briefcase, then bounded after her.

  He let out a laugh. She was winning, and that was okay. More important, his old Dorothy was returning, and he liked it.

  Chapter Six

  The music rehearsal at the church proved smooth and uneventful, moving along much quicker than Ryan had expected. Occasionally he noticed Dorothy’s face contort with obvious pain, or her fingers tremble on the piano keys. When he asked, she qualified any discomfort behind a forced laugh and lame excuses.