by Kris Bryant
Hope flopped back against the pillow, careful to not move her leg. “Play me one of your encores. Something you loved to play.”
I pointed down. “I’m limited here.”
“Then play what you can.”
“Okay, tell me what you hear.” I silently played “Chopsticks.” She laughed at me and brushed my hands away. I gave her a serious nod and played a song that was easy to play given my restricted space.
“I’m going to go with Mozart.”
“You’re really bad at this.” I pressed harder so she would feel the keys as I played them. Even watching me she struggled.
“I just can’t figure it out. Give me a hint.”
I cleared my throat and hummed a few bars.
“You’re playing Pink!” Her jaw fell open in surprise. “When did you learn Pink?”
I shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but I saw the delight in her expression. “You had the music somewhere on a bookshelf and I just studied it.” We both knew I spent about thirty seconds looking at it and memorized it.
“That’s so wonderful. I can’t wait to hear you play it later tonight.”
I could only have an audience of one, but it was a big step for me. Hope never bothered me when I wanted to play or asked that I play her something. She always left the decision up to me.
“I guess you probably should get ready, huh?” I pointed down to her leg. “That should wash right off in the shower. If it doesn’t, call me.”
“It’s not like anyone is going to see my bare leg even if it doesn’t wash off.” Hope was going to the Leading Note on her day off only because another shipment of instruments was going to be delivered. “I plan on bundling up. I hate winter, but that’s Chicago for you.” She sighed and struggled to push herself into a sitting position. “I don’t want to leave you, but I’m kind of excited to see what arrives today.”
I’d reached out to several conductors and symphonies I’d worked with in the past and asked them to donate any instruments they no longer used. Most of them didn’t believe it was me because I had been away for so long, but with a few gentle reminders of tantrums I’d thrown, or mistakes I made or ones they made, they all came around. Word spread fast and people were trying to reach me to do concerts or interviews, but I turned them all down. My life had changed. I had a different goal. I loved music and would forever, but I loved what Hope was doing more and the reasons behind her dreams. The response I received from the people I reached out to was overwhelming. Hope was working with other foundations and schools in and around the Chicago area to share all of the instruments that were generously donated. That only made the Leading Note all the more popular. Gene’s daughter-in-law did a fantastic cover story to generate interest, and her follow-up piece was just as successful. The Leading Note was growing. Hope had hired four more instructors and three office personnel just to keep up.
“Go get ready. I’ll make you a fresh coffee to go.” I jumped up and reached out for her hand to help her up.
She groaned playfully and pulled me back on the bed instead. “What if I want to stay here and play with you all day?”
“I can go instead and you can wait for the piano,” I said.
She groaned again. “I wish we could do both together.”
I leaned down and kissed her nose. “I know, but tonight is going to be special. So, the sooner you get to work and do a quick inventory, the sooner you can come home and meet our new baby.”
Hope hid her surprise well when I said we should go check out pianos a few weeks ago. We rarely used the dining room, and it was too nice a space to go to waste. We didn’t entertain people, and if we wanted a nice meal, we could eat at the kitchen bar.
“I can’t wait. Okay, I’m going.” She raced to the bathroom to get ready. I handed her a travel mug of hot coffee on her way out the door. She stopped and kissed me firmly on the mouth. “I love you. I can’t wait to meet our new addition.”
***
She was beautiful. Sleek, black, and very quiet. The professional who accompanied the movers tuned it perfectly. He asked if I would like to play it while he was still there, but I trusted his ear and declined. He polished a few smudges out until he was completely satisfied the piano was perfect.
“I just wanted you to know that I’ve always enjoyed your music, and I hope this piano brings you happiness again. It’s the perfect comeback instrument.” He nodded as if he understood and accepted my struggles, put on his hat and coat, and walked out the door. I should have been creeped out that he knew who I was, but I was surprisingly calm and my attention was solely on the piano. It was just me and her. And Clio, who jumped on the windowsill and looked at it from across the room.
“The first scratches I see on her from you, I swear I will put you in mittens. Then you’ll wish you were still outside.” He yawned, knowing full well I would never follow through on my threats. I pulled out the bench and sat on the edge, eager, nervous, and excited. I flipped up the fallboard and stared at the eighty-eight keys. I missed them. I ran my fingers gently across the tops, my touch as light as a caress. I pushed down on the pedals to get a feel for their stiffness. I sat up a little taller, waited for the adrenaline to reach my fingers, and hit the keys. I played anything and everything my heart wanted. I was still good. I wasn’t great like before and I stumbled over a few notes when my fingers weren’t fast enough for my brain, but I still had it. I smiled. I wasn’t afraid. I slid back on the bench and waited to see what reaction I would have. My hands shook a little bit, but that was probably because I lacked the stamina I once had.
“Please keep playing.”
I hadn’t heard Hope come in. I honestly had no idea how much time had passed since they delivered the piano.
“What time is it?”
She flipped her wrist up. “Four fifteen.” She placed her coat on the rack and wrapped her scarf over the collar. “She’s beautiful, Lily. She looks perfect in here.” She walked over to me and put her arms around my neck. “What do you think?”
I loved the feel of her warm lips against my temple. She made me feel safe.
“Have a seat and find out.” I slid over to give her room, but she waved me off and sat on the couch.
“If you still feel like playing, I’d love to hear you.”
My adrenaline spiked again. She sent me a suggestive look. I turned back around and placed my fingers on the keys. Hope had once told me that the piano was sad, so I decided to change her mind. I played “Waltz of the Flowers” by Tchaikovsky because it was one of my favorites and I loved the challenge of it. I’d started playing it when I first sat down, but everything had come rushing back to me and I couldn’t stay focused long enough to complete one song. I started with one song that had a bar or note that reminded me of another song, so I slipped from composer to composer, never completing an entire piece, until now. I wanted this to be perfect. Hope told me I was her favorite, even when she was a little girl. That was so empowering, and I wanted nothing more than to make her happy, so I played it from the heart and I played it perfectly. When I was done, I turned back around to find Hope in tears. This time I smiled.
“Did you like it?” I stood up and walked over to the couch. She reached for me and pulled me down next to her. I handed her a box of tissues, which she gratefully accepted.
“Just so you know, I’m always going to cry when you play,” she said.
“But they are the good tears. Happy tears.”
“They are love tears,” she said.
“There is no such thing.” I kissed her softly.
“You know that there is.” She straddled my lap, my new favorite place for her to be. I held her hips and let her finish her thought. My plan was to flip her after she explained herself. “It’s all this love I feel for you. I can’t deal with it. I don’t know how to process it, so I cry.” She leaned down and kissed me softly. “Remember the first time we made love?”
I leaned back and groaned. “I was an amateur.”
&n
bsp; She poked my side until I laughed. “I believe you were a beginner. And I believe we kissed one another’s tears away.”
“I never cry. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. Lies.
She held my face in her hands. “I love you, Lily Croft, and from here on out, I will only cry happy tears around you for all of the right reasons, even during sex.” Her confession made me want to cry.
“I love you, too, Hope D’Marco. And we both know I cry at everything, especially during sex. You’re responsible for all the good in my life. Especially her.” I pointed behind her at the piano.
“Are you already done playing?”
“It’s your turn.” I squeezed her hips and slid her off my lap. Instead of heading to the piano, she sat back down on the couch.
“Hearing you play is my dream come true. If you’re in a good place, I’d like to hear a little more.”
I headed back to the piano. I felt sure and confident. There was nothing to conquer anymore. I was never going to be Jillian Crest again, but I could be Lily Croft with an audience of one. I’d made peace with that. I looked at Hope. “Is there anything in particular that you want me to play?”
Her face broke into the biggest smile that lit up my heart. “Whatever you want, babe. I’m here to love you and support you. Right now, I just want to sit back and listen.”
About the Author
Kris Bryant was born in Tacoma, WA, but has lived all over the world and now considers Kansas City her home. She received her BA in English from the University of Missouri and spends a lot of her time buried in books. She enjoys hiking, photography, and spending time with her family and her dog, Molly.
Her first novel, Jolt, was a Lambda Literary Finalist and Rainbow Awards Honorable Mention. Her second book, Whirlwind Romance, was a Rainbow Runner-up for Contemporary Romance. Taste was also a Rainbow Awards Honorable Mention for Contemporary Romance. Forget Me Not was selected by the American Library Association’s 2018 Over the Rainbow book list and was a Golden Crown Finalist for Contemporary Romance.
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