Restoring Harmony

by Joëlle Anthony

  “I’m counting on it,” he said. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

  “Yeah. It’s way too cold out here for my baby!”

  We went into the living room, the heat from the woodstove hitting us like that July day so many months ago when we’d first met. I ran my fingers lightly over Jewels’ curves.

  “Will you trade me?” I asked. “I’ve got another fiddle that Dad swapped an old banjo for. It’s not as nice as Jewels, but it’s perfect for a beginner.”

  “Molly,” he said, laughing and shaking his head, “do you really think I got Jewels for me? She’s your fiddle.”

  “You’re the best!”

  He smiled. “So I’ve been told.”

  All I could do was hug Jewels and stare happily at him. Like the fiddle, I was afraid Spill would somehow disappear if I took my eyes off him. We sat knee to knee in front of the fire, and I began to talk a mile a minute about Christmas and traditions and how happy I was to see him.

  “Breathe,” he said, laughing. “You talk as fast as you play!”

  “I can’t help it,” I said. I’d set the bow down and was holding Jewels like a ukulele. I plucked a Christmas carol while we talked. “I’ve missed you!”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Me too. I mean, I’ve missed you too.”

  Spill told me that he’d gotten a job in Victoria, working in a shoe repair shop, and that he made custom boots at night.

  “And you don’t . . . well . . . work for anyone else?” I asked. “Like you did in Oregon?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. All finished with that line of work.” I’d never seen Spill smile so brightly before.

  “Oh, good,” I said. “So how long can you stay?”

  “Until the first of January. Assuming your parents don’t mind putting me up,” he said. “I brought your dad the new almanac . . . just to get off on the right foot.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t believe it! Spill was nervous to meet my dad!

  “My family will be happy you’re here,” I said. “Plus now Katie can stop teasing me, saying I must’ve made you up because you sound too good to be true.”

  He laughed.

  “Oh, and I can give you lots of fiddle lessons while you’re here too!” I said.

  He nodded seriously. “Great. I’d love that.”

  “And you’ll come back again to visit, right?” I demanded.

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ll write to me in the meantime?” I insisted.

  “Every day,” he said, smirking.

  “Oh, yeah.” I punched him lightly on the arm. “Like you have for the last two months?”

  He laughed, and I set Jewels down and pulled him up out of his chair. I hugged him tightly, and he squeezed me. He’d be back to see me. I just knew it. And once he saw the island in the summer, he’d want to live here because it is the most beautiful place on Earth. And by the time I was done giving him fiddle lessons, the man would be able to play with the best of them. We were going to make a long and lasting duo, too, because I knew lots of tunes with two-part harmony.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My list of people to thank is long, but I’ll try to keep to the minimum. Still, if you need to get a snack, maybe now is the time because anyone who says that writing is a solitary business doesn’t write the way I do. I need all the help I can get!

  A big, huge thank-you and hug to Stacey Barney, editor extraordinaire! Thank you for finding the story in all my many, many words and helping me to shape it into a book. You’re the best.

  Michel Bourret, vous êtes tout simplement le meilleur agent littéraire quune fille pourrait espéré avoir. Merci!

  Without my critique group, this book would not exist. Thank you to Linda Anthony, Wanda Collins Johnson, Eileen Cook, Victor Anthony, and Alexa Barry. Everything I write is richer for your input. Much gratitude to my fact checkers and advisers, Frank Anthony, Coe Booth, Nicole & Kelly Berthelot, Louis Freeman, Nancy Rowan, Tim Tommerup, Sarah Tradewell, and Sara Zarr. Also, thank you to Penny Mason of Penguin Canada, and special thanks to John Rowe Townsend & Jill Paton Walsh-mentors, friends, and wonderful writers.

  I am eternally indebted to these women who have taken the time to blog so that aspiring writers can learn about the business side of publishing. Thank you so much, Dia, Rachel, Jennifer, Kristin, Janet, and the Divine Miss Snark.

  If this were a televised awards show, the music would be swelling to a crescendo to let me know I’ve gone on far too long, but there is one more person who I can never thank enough. My wonderful husband has given me time, financial support, musical expertise, encouragement, a great author photo, and most of all, love. And to top it off, he lets me steal every funny thing he’s ever done and run with it. Without him there would be no book at all. I love you, Pea.