He found her hand and bowed over it.“Allow me to save you from this beastly dragon, m’lady.”
She yanked free.“You can turn off the charm, Don Giovanni.”
The accusation landed like an unexpected uppercut.Don Giovanni was a vile character who ruined women, and it stung to be compared to him.Given the way she’d been avoiding him, she probably hoped to deter further interaction.“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment to my good looks or an insult to my character.”
“I’d say take it as both, but I imagine that would inflate your ego too much.”As soon as she said it, her eyes widened and her now-free hand flew to her mouth.
Oh, she was quick and her tongue sharp, but he did enjoy a good parry.“You’re probably right.Wise decision to keep it to yourself.”He winked to show he’d taken her words in good stride.
Color crawled up her neck as she averted her gaze.
“If it’s all the same, Iwillalleviate you of the infuriating pest.”
“Thank you.”Her voice barely rose to a whisper.
He eyed the way Tristan was sprawled across her lap and against her stomach, but there was no way to remove the cat without grossly breaking the rules of propriety.She’d certainly believe him a Don Giovanni then.
“I confess, I don’t see a way to respectfully retrieve him in his current position.Perhaps by the time we’re formally introduced, he’ll have shifted.”He might as well use the opportunity to his advantage.
Mrs.Davis adjusted to a more regal position, with a lifted chin and straightened back.“I am the famed Constanza Brisbane, and this is my daughter—”
“Nora.”Miss Davis cut her ma off with a hint of panic to her tone.“Nora Davis.You’ll have to forgive Mum.She’s not having a good day.”
“I’m having a perfectly fine day, dear.You are here and training to become my superior protégé.”
Ah.So Mrs.Davis was one of those who believed themselves to be someone else.The woman must have a taste for the dramatic to claim the life of the famed opera singer who mysteriously disappeared.Honestly, he’d prefer it if Ma were here for a similar reason.At least Mrs.Davis seemed happy.Ma hadn’t been happy in many years and had almost succeeded in prematurely exiting this life a mere five months ago.
Some of the enjoyment at having finally cornered the lovely Miss Davis into conversation died, but he kept his smile in place.It was better to deflect sadness with jokes and feigned happiness than to reveal how much Ma’s disinterest in life pained him.
The reception door swung open, and Nurse Abbott ushered his reluctant ma into the room.She went no further than urged and stared at the floor as she rubbed one arm like a child ashamed and awaiting punishment.
Oh, Ma.
Ezekiel strode across the room, arms extended, and pulled her into a hug he hoped showed how much he loved her and needed her in his life.Unfortunately, embracing her was like cuddling a corpse.She just stood there, cold and stiff beneath his hold, not returning his love with even a pat or word of hello.
“I brought Tristan with me.I thought you might like to see the rascal.”He took her limp hand and led her to stand before Miss Davis.
Tristan lifted his head, gave a yowled greeting, then took his time in jumping to the floor to brush Ma’s skirts with a proper hello.
A small tremor showed at the corner of her mouth.Might she finally smile for Ezekiel?Instead, a giant tear rolled down her cheek and dripped to the floor.His own smile faltered at the ache of squashed hope.
“Good afternoon, Mrs.Beaumont.”Miss Davis rose and offered a low curtsy.Her brief glance his direction spoke of a compassion only those with parents such as theirs could understand.She didn’t smile, but her voice was gentle and kind without being patronizing.“Yourson was just introducing himself, but I’m afraid he hasn’t shared his name yet.Would you be so kind as to enlighten us?”
Ma turned to him, and the slight questioning slant of her brow was a vast improvement over the earlier blankness.
Ezekiel raised his hands and shook his head.“Don’t look at me.I haven’t decided yet which of my names I will present.Miss Davis suggested Don Giovanni, but I think I’d rather a hero’s name.Perhaps Tamino?”
A hint of the look Ma often gave him as a child—that quit-being-ridiculous-and-behave-yourself look—appeared, and Ezekiel could have whooped at the small victory.
“Ezekiel.”The single word rasped out, evidence of a voice too long unused.
“Ezekiel, you say?”Miss Davis tilted her head at just the right angle to show interest and encouragement.“Why, how very biblical and apropos.He was just prophesying like his namesake, for he is indeed a hero by bringing you over here to lure Tristan away.”
Miss Davis was a gentle melody in the brash cacophony of coping with Ma’s melancholia.Ezekiel should have brought Tristan sooner.They might have already formed a steady friendship if he had.Her tenderness toward Ma and Ma’s reactions to her, no matter how small, were a balm to the constant grief he carried.
“Do you like music, Mrs.Beaumont?”
Ezekiel held his breath at Miss Davis’s question.Music had once been as important as breathing to Ma.It was because of her that he composed music and played the piano, clarinet, and violin.Until Pa got sick and Ezekiel had to abandon his pursuit of becoming a composer for the steadier income of a stage manager, Ezekiel couldn’t remember a time when music didn’t fill the quiet moments of their lives.During Pa’s illness, Ma’s love and desire for music had waned, then it had died with Pa.
