by Sarah Beard
Sinking gently into a Debussy piece, my ears and heart rejoiced at the rich, familiar tones of Mom’s piano. It had been over two years since I played it, and it sounded just as sweet. Only my hands had grown more competent, making it easier and more natural to play. I breathed my soul into the neglected instrument, and it came to life and welcomed me back like an old friend.
Halfway through the piece, I sensed someone behind me. I glanced back to see who it was, and my hands froze on the keys. I stood with such swiftness that I knocked over the piano bench behind me.
It wasn’t Dad. It wasn’t Vivian or Devin.
Whether ghost, illusion, or flesh and blood, Thomas Ashby stood at the threshold of the parlor, his bright blue eyes fastened on me. His face, adorned in the ethereal afternoon light, was wistful and uncertain.
My mind couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the scene before me. It could not accept the image my eyes were attempting to transmit. You’re lying, my mind said to my eyes. But it didn’t matter what my mind said. My heart received the message with foolhardy eagerness.
“Aria,” he whispered, taking a step toward me.
At the sound of his voice, my heart lurched violently inside my chest and my knees started shaking. Maybe it was because I wasn’t breathing, but I suddenly felt lightheaded. I leaned back on the keyboard to steady myself, and the upper keys made a discordant crashing sound.
The front door opened, and Devin walked in carrying my suitcase. Vivian followed close behind, holding a paper bag full of groceries. “Goodness, Aria,” Vivian said in a delighted voice. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a guest?”
I stared at Vivian with wide eyes, but I couldn’t manage to get a single word through my lips. Luckily, she took control of the situation. She glanced at Devin.
“Devin,” she said, gesturing to Thomas, “this is Thomas. He’s an old family friend. He’s going to be staying with us for a few days.”
My mouth dropped open but still no words came.
Devin gave a small wave. “Hey. Nice to meet you.” He nodded to my suitcase. “Where should I put this?”
“Oh,” Vivian said. “Upstairs, second door on the left.”
He carried my suitcase up the stairs, and Vivian turned to Thomas. “Thomas, honey, could you help me bring in the groceries?”
“Of course,” he said, and after a quick glance at me, he turned and headed for the door.
I floated to the parlor window and watched him as he walked across the driveway to Vivian’s truck. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from him; it was like watching a ghost.
“Devin, honey,” I heard Vivian say, “would you help Thomas bring in the rest of the groceries? There’s something upstairs I need to show Aria.”
Through the window, I watched Devin walk outside and meet Thomas at the truck, where they pulled bags of groceries from the bed. Devin was saying something to Thomas, but I couldn’t hear what.
“Aria!” I swung around to see Vivian halfway up the stairs, waving for me to follow. I peeled myself from the window and followed her upstairs.
When I first stepped into my old room, I didn’t recognize it. My antique white furniture was the same, but the walls were covered in gold and purple damask wallpaper, and the bed was buried beneath a skirt of flounced purple satin and a mountain of ruffled, embroidered pillows. Matching curtains hung over the window, and Vivian’s doll collection was scattered about the room, on my desk, dresser, nightstand, and window seat. But my room didn’t matter. There were more important issues at hand than my old room being transformed into a doll museum.
I sat beside Vivian on the bed and unleashed all my questions. “Why is he here? Where has he been? When did he get here?” My breaths were shallow, and I still felt light-headed.
“Calm down, sweetheart.” She put her arm around me and pulled me close, speaking with quiet urgency. “All I know is this. He showed up here last night, and believe me, I was as surprised as you. He and your daddy went back into the guest bedroom and they talked for a long time. And they talked so quiet, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, even with my ear pressed to the door. And when I asked your daddy about it later, he was not very specific about what they’d talked about. But what I did find out from Thomas is that he’s been in the Netherlands these last couple years.”
“What?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah. I guess he was doing some kind of fishin’ or somethin’.”
“Fishing,” I repeated in disbelief. “In the Netherlands.” An unexpected surge of anger pulsed through my veins. I had spent the last two years in anguish over him, wondering where he was, worrying that he was dead, and he was fishing? “Well, why is he here then?” I hissed.
“He said something about needing to finish up some business.”
The words only added fuel to my burning rage. So he was here on business, and he wanted to drop in and say hi. “But why is he here? In my dad’s house?”
“Well, he was stayin’ in a hotel, but your daddy insisted that he get his stuff and stay here.”
“Dad insisted? Why?”
“I don’t know why. But he’s staying in the room right next to yours.”
“But there’s not a bed.”
“There is now. We had so much extra furniture when we moved all my stuff in here.” She let out an anxious sigh. “Oh, honey, I didn’t know you’d be bringing Devin, and I thought you’d be happy to see Thomas. Do you want me to just tell him to go?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” I pictured Thomas leaving, and the thought made me panicky. “No. I need to talk to him. Did he say why he didn’t call, or write, or let me know where he was?”
“No, I haven’t had much chance to talk to him at all. He was gone this morning when I woke up, and then I went shopping, so this is the first time I’ve seen him today.”
“Where did he go this morning?”
“I don’t know, honey. But, listen, what do you want me to tell Devin? I mean, who should I say Thomas is?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I mean, he is an old family friend, I guess.”
“Done.” She patted my knee and stood up to leave. “I better go get dinner started.”
“Vivian,” I said, standing and holding open my arms. “It’s good to see you.”
She took me in her arms and pecked me on the cheek. “It’s good to see you too, darlin’. You look wonderful, by the way.”
“Where’s my dad?”
“At work until tomorrow morning.”
I had to admit, I was more than relieved I wouldn’t have to deal with two awkward reunions in the same day.
Vivian went downstairs, and I fell back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, marinating in my anger. Every tear I’d cried, every pain I’d suffered over Thomas had been made in vain by four little words. Fishing. In. The. Netherlands. A storm of emotion gathered inside me, building pressure with each quickening breath.
I heard Devin’s voice downstairs, and I wondered how long it would be before he came upstairs for me. I didn’t want him to see me this way. A major meltdown was on its way, and I needed some privacy. I jumped up and flung open my suitcase, grabbed some clothes and toiletries, and rushed across the hall to the bathroom, where I locked the door behind me. There was only one place right now where I wouldn’t be disturbed. I turned on the shower and stripped off my clothes, then stepped in and sat in the cold porcelain tub. I pulled my knees to my chest and let the water run over me. It grew warmer, and gave me the cocoon I needed to grieve in secret. I lowered my head into my arms and released quiet sobs, letting the water wash away my tears.
How could I have mistaken his feelings for me? He must not have cared about me as much as I thought he did if he could so easily brush me off and leave the country without a word. Two years without a word. Two years without a thought of me. While I spent countless tears and sleepless nights on him. I felt betrayed and deceived, stupid and gullible for believing that he loved me. I was relieved that he wa
s back, to know that he was okay. But I was furious that he let me believe that he loved me and that he would return to me. He had returned, but a year and a half late, and only to take care of business. The sharpness of that truth stung me to the core.
I cried until the water grew cold, then I forced myself to stand and quickly wash my hair. I got out and wrapped a towel around me, then looked in the mirror and took a deep breath. I would be mature about this. I didn’t know why he was here, but I didn’t want him to know how much he had hurt me. I wanted him to see that I was happy with Devin, and that he would never have the ability to hurt me again.
Wanting to postpone the awkward dinner I knew was before me, I took my time getting ready. I put on a fitting red sweater with elbow-length ruched sleeves and dark jeans. I dried my long hair with a diffuser to bring out the natural waves, then made sure my bangs were swept perfectly across my forehead. Makeup was next, followed by simple silver earrings. I took one last look in the mirror, pleased with how pretty I looked.
When I opened the bathroom door, the dreamy passages of The Venetian Gondola drifted up the hallway from the parlor. Devin was performing in a Mendelssohn tribute in three weeks, so he would be practicing a lot while we were here. As I inched my way down the hall, the living room slowly came into view. Orange embers glowed in the stone fireplace. Devin sat in the parlor in his black suit jacket, swooning in the harmonies he drew from the piano. In front of the window, the Christmas tree sparkled with white lights and glittery ornaments. And Thomas sat on the sofa, ankle resting on his knee, head bent to the book in his lap. With a pencil in his hand, he made strokes in the book as though drawing something.
It was still shocking to see him sitting there, and I quietly observed him, taking in the visual details that had been lost to me for far too long. He wore a dark green zip-neck sweater, jeans, and hiking boots. His features seemed more rugged than before. The shadow of a beard framed the strong curve of his jaw, and his hair was longer, dark shaggy waves falling across his brow and onto his collar. He appeared thicker, more mature and muscular. But what struck me the most was that he was even more arrestingly beautiful than I remembered.
His pencil paused, and he lifted his gaze to the parlor and watched Devin play for a moment. I couldn’t see his expression, but his jaw tightened like he was annoyed. Or was he jealous? As though feeling my gaze on him, he turned his head and raised his eyes to meet mine. I caught a look of raw pain before he composed his expression into a small but warm smile.
I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know which mask to put on, or whether I should simply go without one. What was I going to say to him? I had so many questions to ask him, but I didn’t know how to go about it. How could I talk to him with Devin here? And what if I had a chance to talk to him alone? Did I even want him to know that I wanted answers? Or should I just pretend I was not affected by him being here? While I was thinking all this, Thomas kept his gaze on me, his little smile slowly disappearing.
Vivian came out of the kitchen and announced that dinner was ready. My time for indecision was up. Thomas rose from the couch and followed Vivian into the kitchen. Devin came out of the parlor and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, holding his hand out to me.
“You look gorgeous,” he said with a wide grin.
I met him at the bottom of the stairs and took his hand, and we walked into the kitchen together.
twenty
W ow, Vivian,” I said as I walked into the kitchen and saw that it had been transformed like the rest of the house. “You’ve been busy.” The once-bland room was now a warm and colorful country kitchen, complete with red tile backsplash, rooster border, and plaid curtains.
“Like I said to you before,” she said proudly, “it needed a woman’s touch.”
Devin pulled out my chair, then sat beside me. There was some shuffling on the other side of the table as Vivian awkwardly tried to figure out where to sit, whether to take the seat across from me or to leave it open for Thomas. Thomas sat across from Devin, putting an end to her dilemma.
After Vivian offered grace, an uncomfortable silence settled over the table as we dished up chicken cacciatore and roasted asparagus. Vivian kept glancing between Thomas and me, only adding to the discomfiture of his sudden reappearance.
“Where’s your father?” Devin asked me, breaking the silence.
“At work,” I said. “You’ll get to meet him tomorrow.”
“Jed is a firefighter.” Vivian’s green eyes beamed with pride.
“And a hunter, or so the wolf in my room tells me,” Devin said. He smiled at me playfully. “Speaking of disturbing decor, you never told me you collected dolls.”
I kicked him under the table. “I don’t.”
“Oh, those are mine,” Vivian said apologetically, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Goodness, I hope they’re not too disturbing. Most of them are family heirlooms. They seemed to go best in that room, seeing how it’s the most feminine. I hope you don’t mind, Aria.”
“No, not at all,” I said. “It’s not my room anymore anyway.” I glanced across the table at Thomas, who was looking down and tearing off a piece of chicken with his fork.
Devin must have followed my gaze, because he said, “So . . . Thomas, is it?”
Thomas looked up and nodded. His expression was flat, unreadable.
“How exactly do you know Aria’s family?” Devin asked.
“Oh,” Vivian broke in, “Thomas used to live right next door to Aria. And his Grandpa Frank lived there before that, isn’t that right?”
Thomas nodded and gave Vivian a little smile.
I wished he would say something. I decided to ask him a question, if only to hear his voice. “So, Thomas,” I stammered, and his eyes lit up like he was surprised to hear me addressing him. “The Netherlands?”
“Yeah,” he said soberly. “Zierikzee, to be exact. It’s about an hour from Rotterdam.”
We’d performed in Amsterdam on our European tour, and it was unnerving to think that I’d unknowingly been only a couple hours away from him. “Vivian said you were fishing?” I tried to keep the incredulity out of my voice but didn’t entirely succeed.
“Well, not recreational fishing. I’ve been working on a trawler.”
“What do you fish?” Devin asked.
“Mostly plaice and sole.”
“We tried some sole when we were in London, remember, Sweetie?” Devin asked me with a nudge. “It was good. Had a mild taste, like sturgeon.”
“Yeah,” I said weakly, “I think I remember.”
“So,” Thomas said, “you got into Juilliard. That’s great.”
“Yeah. It has been great.”
Small talk. Stupid, fruitless small talk. We may as well be discussing fried eggs. I wanted to grab Thomas by the collar and demand an explanation, but I was forced to politely sit there and ignore the purple elephant sitting at the dining table.
“And what about you, Devin?” Vivian asked. “Tell us all about yourself.”
Not that Devin ever needed much encouragement to talk about himself, but he seemed more eager than usual, maybe because he sensed competition in the room. While he gave a dazzling account of his life, including prestigious training and worldwide performances, I couldn’t keep from stealing glances at Thomas. He sat there expressionless, mechanically eating and staring at a spot on the table like he was tuning out everything Devin was saying.
Fishing, I thought. Fishing plaice and sole. I imagined him on his vessel, breathing in salty sea air and feeling the sun on his shoulders, pulling in a net bursting with fish and smiling to himself, all while I lay curled in a ball on my bed, crying for him until I couldn’t breathe. Maybe I didn’t need answers. Maybe I should just tell him to go and never come back.
“Aria, are you okay?” I turned to see Devin looking at me anxiously, and I realized I was not eating.
“I’m fine,” I said, spearing an asparagus and forcing myself to take a bite.
> “Are you sure?” he pressed. “You look a little sick.”
“You do look a tad pale, honey,” Vivian added.
“I’m fine,” I assured them again. “I think it’s just jet lag.” “Why don’t you go lie down?” Devin suggested. “I’ll put your plate in the fridge for later.”
“No, really. I’m fine.”
Thomas pushed his chair out abruptly and stood. He lifted his plate and turned to Vivian. “Thanks for the delicious meal, Vivian. I have some errands to run, but I’ll be back later.”
“Oh. Okay,” Vivian said, looking concerned.
Thomas walked to the sink and rinsed his dishes, then turned back to us. “Don’t wait up or anything. I’ll probably be back late.” With that, he walked out of the kitchen, and I stared blankly after him.
I felt Devin’s hand on my leg. “Go lie down,” he encouraged gently.
I heard the front door open and close, and I fought an urge to jump up and run after him. “Okay,” I conceded, feeling like I really did need to lie down.
I left the kitchen and went upstairs. As I passed the room Thomas was staying in, I opened the door, wanting to make sure his things were still there. The plaid quilt on his bed was pulled back halfway and the sheet rumpled. His suitcase lay on the floor at the end of the bed. I went to my room, flopping onto the fluffy satin bedspread and trying to calm myself.
I heard Vivian and Devin cleaning up dinner downstairs, and I listened to the chatter between them. Devin was asking her about her doll collection, obviously to redeem himself for calling them “disturbing” earlier. I smiled, endeared by his attempt to reassure her.