Kimmie’s gazing out the front window when I head back inside, but she looks in my direction as I walk by. “Hey. Hot date with your hunk of a boy toy?” She winks, and I laugh, trying to ignore the tightening in my chest at the thought of him.
“No, not today. I’m gonna swing by the nursing home.”
“Now? I thought you usually went a little later in the day.”
A flicker of surprise runs through me that she noticed. We’ve never talked about it before. “Yeah, actually. But I don’t know, I feel like heading over early. Maybe it’s a sign. You know, from the universe,” I add to tease her, and, just like I’d hoped, she rolls her eyes.
“Is everything good with Hunt, by the way? He seemed a little ... I don’t know ... caveman or something earlier.”
I rub my arm, a flush rising up my neck. “Yeah, he’s fine.”I hope. “Just had a rough night.”I think. “Sorry if we interrupted your swim.”
“Are you kidding? That was the best entertainment I’ve had all week, and I don’t even know what happened.” She laughs, tightening her ponytail, then saves me from having to respond by continuing, “Okay, Miss Sunshine, have fun sitting around with old people. Don’t get too wild now.”
“I’ll try to refrain,” I joke, reaching for the doorknob. “You waiting for your dad?”
“Story of my life,” she mutters, gazing back out the window.
Pausing, I chew my lip. “Do you, um, maybe want to come with—?”
“He’ll show,” she snaps, still looking at the empty street.
“I know. I was just ... you know. Have a nice time.”
I’m turning the knob when I hear her say quietly, still avoiding my gaze, “Thank you though. For the offer.”
“Anytime.”
“Hey, Jenny,” I greet the receptionist as I sign in.
“Hi there, sugar pie.” She smiles, her round cheeks lifting. “Annie expecting you this early?”
“No, I was just coming to bring Miss Riley some flowers and see how she’s doing. Is that okay?”
The phone rings, and she picks it up, answering before cupping a hand over the mouthpiece to whisper, “That should be fine, sugar, but just a heads-up, Miss Riley’s son stopped by for a visit. He might still be in there.”
“Did you say, her—?”
“Yes, Mrs. Turner, I’m aware,” Jenny says into the phone, irritation oozing from each syllable. “Well, if you’d just let me get a word in, you’d know I was fixin’ to tell you just that ...”
Leaving Jenny to deal with Mrs. Turner, I wander through the lobby. A familiar sound hits my ears, and I smile, making a right when I reach the hall. One of the nurses must have put piano music on the TV for Miss Riley. It’s louder than usual, and this tune isn’t one I’ve heard before. It’s softer, slower. Soothing.
My heart warms while I listen, and I gently squeeze the flowers in my hand. I knew I had a good feeling about stopping by early.
The door is open as usual. I’m about to knock anyway when I spot Miss Riley sitting at the piano. Then I can’t help but stare.
She’s not alone, but with huge plants blocking half of the instrument from where I stand, I can’t make out more than a partial view of a broad shoulder and a dark head of hair seated beside her. It doesn’t matter though—I’m too busy gaping at Miss Riley.
I’ve seen her stand by that piano multiple times, watching the instrument so longingly it’s like she’s waiting for it to play something for her. But she never sits on the bench. She never plays it. At least, not in front of me. Now, though ... her fingers are on the keys. I can’t see them, but I see the movement of her shoulders subtly falling and rising in sync with some of the strokes. The strokes are slow and hesitant, and every few moments, she pauses. She listens for a beat as the second pair of hands beside her continues to steadily play, never faltering, then she picks the tune right back up again.
She’s playing music. Her playing might not be as technically perfect as the playing of the person beside her, but it’s beautiful. Stunning, even. I’ve never seen her so ... present.
My eyes water like they did earlier today. But these are good tears—the kind that come from a place in my heart that makes it lighter. The kind I’m totally okay with.
Her son nudges her lightly on the shoulder, and Miss Riley actually laughs. It’s quiet, almost drowned out by the music, but it may as well be the only sound in the room. A surprised gasp escapes me. It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh.
Someone’s gaze burns my face, and the music crashes to a halt. With the unexpected silence thickening around me, I shift my eyes to her son.
My heart stops.
