The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5)

by Krista Sandor

  “I do,” she answered.

  He patted her shoulder. “Everyone! Everyone, can I have your attention?” he called out as conversations quieted. “We’ve got quite a treat for you tonight. Our own Em MacCaslin has brought her violin and will be playing for us tonight.”

  Em scanned the room for Michael, but her gaze found Tom and Mindy Lancaster first. They had just arrived and were still in their coats.

  Tom gave her a reassuring nod while Mindy remained frozen in place.

  She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, Michael was moving toward her through the crowd of people who had gathered around her.

  She opened the case and retrieved her violin and bow. “I thought I would start with a piece I haven’t played in a very long time,” she said, willing her voice not to crack. “This is a piece by Niccolò Paganini. It’s titled Nel cor più non mi sento.”

  28

  Em closed her eyes. Someone once asked her what went through her head before she played a piece of music. She could never answer the question because what happened didn’t just happen in her mind. Before she struck the first note, her whole body ceased being a collection of blood and bone and organs. When she held a violin, she disappeared into a place where only sound and vibration dwelled.

  She opened her eyes and met Michael’s gaze before she vanished to that faraway place. Then, like an artist drawing the first brushstroke of paint across the canvas, she played the piece. Her fingers remembered each note and each pluck of the strings. Paganini’s music poured out of her like the rush of a flash flood over the sunbaked Serengeti. The bow wasn’t just bits of wood, ivory, and horse hair. It was the living extension of her right arm. The rules of time seemed to bend. She could have been playing for five seconds or five hours when, with one final stroke, the piece came to an end.

  She exhaled. She wasn’t even sure if she had breathed while she’d played. Opening her eyes, she gazed down the length of the violin. The scar on her ring finger peeked out at her like a star athlete begging to be back in the game. Up until now, this scar had been the unwavering proof of her failure. Now, it was the unmistakable mark of her triumph.

  She held the violin at her side and found Michael in the crowd. The entire room had gone still as if they weren’t sure if what had happened was even real. He smiled and nodded to her, his sage green eyes glassy with emotion. He closed the distance between them and kissed her in front of the entire party.

  She was home.

  Michael pulled back a fraction. “You are amazing,” he whispered against her lips before pressing another kiss to the corner of her mouth.

  The room erupted in cheers. Em scanned the crowd. Zoe and Kathy were holding onto each other, tears streaming down their cheeks. Tom Lancaster met her gaze and patted his heart just as he did the last time she had played this piece over twelve years ago when she had performed at the symphony benefit before her ill-fated trip to Sadie’s Hollow.

  She stared down at her violin.“I did it. I really did it.”

  “Everything you went through has brought you here,” Michael answered.

  Tom joined them, and his teary-eyed grin spoke volumes. “I’ve never heard Paganini’s piece played with more depth or with more emotion. The last time you played this piece—don’t get me wrong—it was technically flawless. But now, now your music has an emotional component second to none.”

  The heat of a blush crept up her neck. “It felt different. I felt…”

  “Grateful?” Tom offered.

  She nodded. That was it. Before her injury, her gift was something she’d always had. From the moment she woke, to the seconds before she drifted off to sleep, her gift was with her like an inseparable twin. But after the accident, for the first time in her life, she was completely alone, stripped of her constant musical companion.

  “Yes, I am grateful,” she said. “I never thought I’d get it back. I thought I’d lost it forever.”

  “Your gift is still there. In fact, I don’t think you’ve ever sounded better,” Tom said.

  “He’s right,” Michael added. “Listening to you play—it was like being transported to another world.”

  Tom nodded. “I think we should get you back on stage. I can talk to some people at the symphony.”

  “I agree,” Michael said. He turned to Tom. “Em and I have been working on some music. It’s a blend of classical pieces mixed with electronic and techno elements. It’s cutting edge stuff. There’s a huge following for that online. Many internet musicians have snagged lucrative recording contracts starting this way.”

  Tom nodded. “I’ve started listening to this kind of crossover genre. It’s fascinating stuff, and really engaging the younger generation to explore classical roots.”

  Em’s gaze bounced between Michael and Tom like she was watching a tennis match. The flurry of their words made her head spin.

  “Hold on,” she said, setting her violin carefully on an end table. She looped her arm through Michael’s and leaned into him.

  “Are you okay, Em?” he asked.

  She was lightheaded. “It’s all a little overwhelming,” she answered, concentrating on her breath. “I’m not ready to play with the symphony right now. And I’m definitely not ready to be some internet sensation.”

  “Of course, Em,” Tom said with the same gentle smile he’d given her as a child. “But you should know, it will all be there when you’re ready. Just say the word. I’m not sure when you’re heading back to Australia, but—”

  Kathy Stein cut in and tapped a spoon to a glass of champagne. “I think this is as good a time as any to make a toast.”

  The room quieted as Neil, Ben, and Zoe passed out glasses of champagne.

  Kathy smiled at her guests. “We have many things to be thankful for, don’t we, friends?”

  The room buzzed with murmurs of agreement as Neil put an arm around his wife.

  “We’re thankful for all your love and friendship. We’re thankful for the many gifts life gives us each day.”

  Em looked up, and Kathy met her gaze. Kathy’s eyes held a question. Em knew what she was asking and nodded.

  “We’re thankful to have Em home. I’m happy to tell you, she has decided to stay in Langley Park.”

  The room shifted its focus from Kathy and onto her. Michael wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple.

  Kathy blinked back tears. “Sweetheart, it’s so good to have you home. Let’s all raise our glasses, and, with profound gratitude in our hearts, let’s toast to Langley Park. It’s not just where we live. It’s where we love.”

  The tinkling of glass filled the air, and Michael tapped his glass against hers. “I guess it’s official. You’re here to stay.”

  She gazed around the room. Sam had arrived and was holding Kate in his arms. The pair gave her bright smiles and two thumbs up. Zoe was standing next to Ben and Jenna.

  Her friend wiped away a tear and mouthed, “Love you.”

  Em mouthed back, “Love you, too.”

  She set her champagne down and rested her hands on Michael’s chest. “It’s good to be home,” she said, pushing up on her toes. He met her in the middle and pressed another kiss to her lips.

  “I have a few last minute things I need to do before we head over to the Senior Living Campus,” Michael said, zipping his coat. “And one of those things may or may not involve a certain Christmas present for you.”

  Em curled up on the sofa in Michael’s living room. Her stomach was acting up again, but she didn’t want to worry him.

  “Lucky for me, I finished my shopping two days ago. You’re cutting it close, aren’t you? It is Christmas Eve.”

  They had gotten a tree from a vendor in Langley Park’s town square a few days ago, fished out all their favorite childhood ornaments from dusty boxes, and hung their stockings over the fireplace in Michael’s Foursquare. She’d purchased Michael’s gift—a fancy keyboard for them to use in the carriage house recording studio—a few day
s after the Stein’s holiday party. But she had no idea what he had in store for her.

  “You can’t put a time limit on perfection,” he said. He looked her over. “Is it your stomach, again?”

  “It’s nothing,” she said, patting Cody who was snoozing away on the couch next to her.

  He gave her a dubious look. “I’ll work as fast as I can. If I can get a few things squared away today, I won’t have to do a lick of work for the next week.”

  She walked him to the door. “I’m sorry, did you just say lick?”

  He bent down and pressed a kiss to her lips. “When I get back, we aren’t leaving my bed for the next week.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “What about food?”

  “Completely overrated. But with your stomach, we better make a couple of platefuls of grilled cheese. We can leave them next to the bed.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

  “I may be a little longer than that. I’ll work as fast as I can.” He dropped a kiss to her forehead. “You should check out that old box I found in your carriage house when I was looking for the Christmas ornaments. I think it had some of your old music books and possibly a diary or two.”

  Em’s eyes widened. “I certainly hope you didn’t read anything.”

  “I think they’re just your old practice logs.”

  She swatted his chest. “You did read them!”

  “No, you know I wouldn’t do that, Em,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Take a look. I left the box in the kitchen.”

  Michael left for the office, and she padded into the kitchen. The old box was brittle and sun-bleached on one corner from where it must have sat exposed to the light over the last decade, maybe longer. She opened the box and waved away a puff of dust.

  “Look at these,” she said as Cody joined her in the kitchen. She had loved using datebooks to log not only her practice time but just about every aspect of her day. From the time she was eight and until her accident, she studiously recorded all her daily activities.

  “I was a pretty thorough kid, Cody.”

  The dog tilted his head from side to side as if he understood.

  “I recorded everything: when I woke up, when I practiced, even my—” She stopped her narration and ran her finger along a series of red dots, each appearing over five consecutive days.

  “Oh my gosh,” she whispered. Her periods had been irregular since she was a teenager. The red dots were her not so subtle way of tracking her cycle. She’d started taking birth control pills to combat this when she was eighteen, shortly after she moved to Australia. Then a realization nearly knocked the breath out of her.

  She ran into the bathroom and rummaged through her cosmetics pouch where she had kept her pills. She’d stopped wearing heavy makeup and had barely touched the bag over the last few weeks.

  Back in Australia, she had a set routine. First, she would take her birth control pill. Next, she’d apply her mask of makeup. But now that she was in Langley Park, that routine had been thrown off. How long had it been since she had even unzipped the pouch? She examined the pack. Nearly full, and it should have been almost empty.

  Despite being on the pill, she had always insisted on using condoms with her sexual partners.

  But she hadn’t with Michael.

  Em looked at herself in the mirror. Turning to the side, she stared at her abdomen. She didn’t look any different. At least, she didn’t think she did. She drummed her fingers on the sink and tried to think. Her last period started the day after Halloween and ended a few days later. She hadn’t had one since then.

  She closed her eyes and tried to organize her thoughts. She’d had bouts of nausea. She preferred herbal tea to her espresso laden flat whites, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had wanted a sip of alcohol. She opened her eyes and surveyed herself in the mirror.

  “Wow,” she breathed, pressing her hands to her abdomen.

  The timer beeped. Em looked on as another bold pink plus sign bloomed under the strip of clear plastic. Ten home pregnancy tests had all come to the same conclusion: Mary Michelle MacCaslin was pregnant.

  “Cody, you’re going to be a big brother.”

  The dog tilted his head, and Em laughed, then cried, then laughed some more.

  “A baby,” she said, unable to stop smiling. She had never even considered motherhood. But the thought of having a baby with Michael only made her heart burst with joy.

  “Should we call Michael?” she asked the dog. Cody tilted his head. “Oh, you’re no help,” she said, scratching between his ears.

  “No! We’ll surprise him.”

  Em collected all ten pregnancy tests and hid them throughout the house as Cody watched her with a perplexed expression.

  She held up the last one. “We can’t forget the carriage house.”

  She pulled on her boots and walked the short distance across the backyard. She flipped on the carriage house light, and a warmth bloomed in her chest. Sheets of paper scribbled with musical notations were scattered across the desk next to their digital audio workstation equipment.

  She wanted to hide this last pregnancy test under the sheet music for their Chopin Nocturne 20 remix, but an orange piece of paper stuck to the side of the workstation caught her eye.

  Upload all files of EM project

  She plucked the note from the desk. Crushing anger replaced the rush of joyful euphoria. He had promised he wouldn’t do anything with their music until she was ready. She grabbed a pencil and wrote a message on the bottom of Michael’s note:

  So much for being BETTER TOGETHER!

  Angry tears blurred her vision. Rubbing her eyes, she left the note and the pregnancy test on the desk and ran out of the carriage house. Her gaze bounced between the two American Foursquares. All their shared history closed in around her. Suffocating her. Smothering her with his deception. He had gone behind her back. He’d lied. She shook her head. It couldn’t be true. Michael wouldn’t do that. Would he?

  She had to get out of there. But where would she go? She took her phone out of her back pocket. It was only a little after three in the afternoon, but it was Christmas Eve. She glanced over at her carriage house. The cherry red Mercedes coupe peeked out through the set of square windows.

  She would go for a drive. Clear her head. She opened the garage, fished her keys out of her pocket, and fired up the engine. Gravel crunched and spewed out in an angry screech of sound as she tore down the driveway and onto Foxglove Lane.

  Dark clouds rolled in as the temperature dropped. She cranked up the heater and aimlessly drove in circles around the Langley Park town center, careful not to drive past Michael’s office.

  What was he thinking? Did he really believe she would be pleased with this? Was this betrayal supposed to be her Christmas gift?

  She blinked back the hot tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She didn’t have the luxury to wallow in anger. Not this time. She was pregnant. There was another life to consider. Em rested a hand on her stomach, and the tears she had kept at bay came trickling out in angry streaks.

  She turned onto Mulberry Drive, and an icy drizzle blurred her windshield. She switched on the wiper blades just as her phone chimed, alerting her to a new text message. She pulled over near the coffee shop and looked at the screen. It was a text from Michael.

  I found your note. It’s not what you think. EM is Eve Medina. Dr. Medina. The files I uploaded were her surgeries. Come home, Em. We need to talk. I need to see you. I found all the tests. I love you, Em. I would never go behind your back. We are always better together.

  She stared at the text as tears of relief replaced the tears of anger. She wiped her face with her coat sleeve then texted her reply:

  Just driving around. I’ll come right home.

  She set the phone on the coupe’s console, turned the steering wheel, and hit the gas. Immediately, she slammed on the brakes. A man had stepped out to cross the street. She threw the car into par
k and got out.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, shielding her eyes from the wind and icy rain that had kicked up in intensity. “I didn’t see you!”

  The man lowered his hood.

  “Kyle?”

  Kyle Benson met her gaze. “Yeah, it’s me.”

  “I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay.” He glanced up at the sky. “Would you mind giving me a ride home. It’s coming down pretty good now.”

  She gestured to the coupe. “Of course, of course.”

  They got in the car, and Kyle took out his phone.

  “Do you have any plans for Christmas?” she asked, guiding the old Mercedes into traffic.

  Kyle was typing something on his phone. Em glanced over. She couldn’t tell if it was a text or email. She waited for him to answer, but he didn’t respond.

  “Kyle,” she tried again. “Is everything okay?”

  He looked thinner, hollowed out.

  “Are you sick?”

  Kyle’s head whipped up. “No.”

  Em turned down his street and pulled up in front of his house. “We’re here,” she said, eyeing her phone. Michael would be wondering why she hadn’t made it back yet.

  “Do you have a minute to come up, Em?”

  Kyle looked like a ghost. His usual healthy glow was replaced with a pallid, dishwater gray tinge. And from the looks of it, he hadn’t shaved in a few days either.

  “I really don’t have much time. I better go. Michael is expecting me.”

  “It’ll only take a second. I’ve got some photos I’d like to show you. I’ve been spending a lot of time near Sadie’s Hollow lately. I thought you’d like to see them.”

  Her eyes widened with the mention of the hollow.

  “Remember? I’ve been doing some work for the Kansas historical society.”

  He smiled, but something in his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

  “I better go, Kyle. I’d love to do this some other time.”

  “Five minutes, Em. I’m sure Michael can fend for himself.”

  She glanced at her phone then back over to Kyle. The rain pinged off the hood of the coupe with a growing urgency.