“Smaller than anyone realizes. What are you studying?”
“Just general courses, some psych.” I was a little embarrassed to tell him now. “I actually want to transfer to a four-year university and get a music therapy degree. It’s a curriculum that’s part music major, part psychology, and you have to get board certified.”
“Huh, okay.”
“I’d probably be working in a clinical setting and use it to help patients with dementia, children with autism… people who have Parkinson’s? It can help to improve motor function.”
“Maybe people with aphasia?” he said.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“I’m astounded, truly,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I knew you were in school, but I didn’t know what you were studying. That’s kind of genius, Jane. It’s perfect.”
I felt a little breathless. I didn’t need his approval, but it felt good to have. “Your mom was the one who gave me the idea, actually. She didn’t have a name for it, but she mentioned that she knew someone at her church who had a relative who was studying it. Turns out there are only three colleges in the state that offer the degree. So that’s why I’m starting at community college. Until I can get in next fall.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t smile at me—not quite. But when he nodded, it felt like respect. I looked away for a moment, feeling proud and a little happy, but a little embarrassed, too. When I glanced back up at his dark eyes, he was still watching me.
There it was. That spark. The deep feeling in my gut telling me to pay attention. This one. This guy right here. He’s important.
The person behind him accidently bumped into him, and Fen turned around while they apologized, his hand knocking against mine briefly.
A spark. A flame. A bonfire.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Mrm,” I mumbled back, wishing I could reach out and hold his hand. Oh, they were still the same graceful, oddly long fingers. Piano hands.
I looked away.
We moved up in the line.
“How are things at the lake?” I asked, trying to manage the riot of feelings that was flaring up inside me.Everything is fine. Nothing to see here.
He nodded. “Good. Better. My father’s adjusting to the restructuring of the festival biz. Mama’s helping him. The twins are good. They’re all here for the holidays.” He glanced at my eyes. “Eddie’s not, in case you were wondering. He’s with my other grandparents—the Sarafians—at their new house in Vancouver. He spent six weeks at rehab at Wings, then they took him up there to live with them.”
“Permanently?”
He shrugged. “Doubt it, but he likes it there for right now. He’s doing okay, I think. We’re trying to give him some space.”
Something shifted inside my chest and relaxed. That honestly made me happy. Eddie had fallen off of social media, and we’d had no contact whatsoever since I left the lake. But I wanted him to get better.
A striking girl with long brown hair and long lashes entered the bakery and walked up to Fen, threading her arm through his elbow. “There you are. I thought you’d abandoned me. Next time tell me where you’re going before you just take off, please?”
Oh.
All the feelings that had been rioting inside me suddenly went quiet. He looked at her arm and then his eyes flicked to mine.
“Oh, hello,” the girl said. “Did I interrupt something?”
Unexpectedly, tears welled. I triedveryhard to control them. My throat constricted, and the room felt as if it were spinning around me.
I mumbled something. At least I tried to, then I took Frida and walked as fast as I could, straight through the shop, to the tiny unoccupied ladies’ room. And once I’d made it inside, I tried to get control of myself.
I’d waited too long.
