“Guitar. I’m not familiar with that word.”
“It’s an instrument. With strings.”
“Oh! We have such things in Lostariel. Do you play?”
He nods.
She clutches her hands in front of her, her gray eyes bright in the lamplight illuminating the railcar. “Will you show me?”
“Right now?”
She nods. “Unless you’re tired.”
Unbidden, his eyes stray toward the closed door to the sleeping compartment, and his heart picks up speed. If Elowyn notices, which she always seems to, she says nothing.
“I suppose I could play something.” Pushing himself to his feet, he navigates the swaying railcar to collect the large case. After setting it on the floor near the chairs, he unlatches and lifts the lid.
A small gasp arises from Elowyn, and he glances her way.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathes.
“It was a gift from my parents when I was accepted to study at the university in Levina.”
“You studied at a university? You must know so many things. I want to learn everything you know.”
Everything? He chuckles nervously. “That might take a while.”
“We have plenty of time,” she says solemnly. “But first, you must demonstrate your prowess with this guitar.”
Right.
He lifts the polished instrument from the case and perches on the edge of his chair, breathing out slowly. Elowyn leans closer in her eagerness as he tentatively strums a simple chord.
The discordant notes echo through their little car, and he cringes. “Sorry. That’s out of tune. Just a minute.”
As she patiently watches, he plucks at the strings, twisting the knobs to get the right sound from each one.
“You can tell by listening if it’s right?” she asks.
“With years of practice.” He strums again, and the guitar emits a pleasant sound this time. “Much better.”
But what should he play? Something simple? It’s been a while since he picked up his guitar, and having her sitting right there watching isn’t helping his nerves.
“Just breathe.” She smiles softly at him. “It’s me. The other half of your heart. You don’t need to be nervous.”
The other half of his heart? The idea awakens something deep within him.
Does he dare play a love song for her? Not that he knows many. He had no one to serenade before now.
Taking another deep breath, he exhales slowly and plucks at the strings in the simple, soothing melody of one of the first songs he learned to play.
Hopefully, she won’t ask what the song means.
Her gray eyes widen as he strums, and the most breathtaking smile slips across her face. He almost loses the melody at the sight, but his hands find the chords by memory.
When he finishes, he looks across his guitar at her, his heart hammering as he awaits her response.
“That was beautiful,” she says. “You must play for me more on this honeymoon of ours.”
