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“WHAT ARE you doing here?” Lindy asked, dumbfounded.
“Unbelievable,” the man said, disgruntled. “You’re the last person I expected to see again.”
“You already know her, Uncle Devin?”
“No. We just, uh, bumped into each other a few days ago.”
Lindy tamped down the urge to burst into laughter. Just seconds ago, she’d convinced herself she’d never see this man again. Now here he was, standing on her doorstep, an expression on his face she was sure mirrored the shock on her own. Flabbergasted might be a more apt description for the emotion assailing her.
She slammed her eyes shut before swiftly opening them again. No. It wasn’t an illusion. He was still there. And even more handsome than her memory had allowed, dressed in charcoal-colored chinos and a torso-hugging grey Henley shirt, sleeves bunched up to the elbows to reveal tan, sinewy arms and a gold and black marine diver watch on his left wrist. His shirt collar lay open, the top two buttons undone, framing the attractive line of his neck. Her gaze lingered there for an instant before sliding upwards to meet his eyes. Any remaining doubt as to his identity quickly evaporated. Those beautiful flint-grey eyes contained the same icy look that had both annoyed and intrigued her a few days ago.
This was Devin Wakefield?
“Are you letting us in?” a small voice inquired.
Lindy dragged her gaze from Devin Wakefield and glanced down at his young charge. Her heart swelled as she instantly fell in love with Sam Lawrence.
Was it the scruffy sneakers and the ragged hole in the knee of his blue jeans? Or the trace of what looked like blueberry jam on one corner of his mouth? The dust of freckles on his nose? The dirty-blond hair in disarray, strands poking out behind his ears? That little jaw with a slightly stubborn set to it? It was all of those things that captured her heart. But mostly, it was his eyes. Big, sky-blue eyes that held something beyond his years, the look of a child who’d recently lost both of his parents and was fighting to be a brave little man.
Lindy bent forward and held out her hand. “I’m Lindy Matthews. You can call me Miss Lindy. And you must be Sam. Your aunts told me you like to play the piano.”
Sam took her hand and shook it firmly. His fingers were warm and a little sticky. The blueberry jam, no doubt. His blue eyes were as bright as sapphires as he stared up at her. “I do! Except Auntie Jo and Auntie Bert don’t like it when I bang on the keys. Auntie Bert says you’ll teach me to play Beet—uh, Beetloven.”
Lindy squeezed his hand before releasing it. “Well, if you practice hard, someday you can play Beethoven and all the other brilliant composers.”
Sam nodded his head earnestly. “Oh, I’ll practice, Miss Lindy. I want to read all those black dots in my Aunties’ music books.”
They smiled at each other in perfect accord until a cool voice said, “I’d like to know what your credentials are, Miss Matthews.”
Lindy straightened her back and met Devin Wakefield’s aloof, inquiring stare. The relaxed smile she’d shared with Sam stiffened. “Please, call me Lindy,” she said, her calm voice concealing her irritation at his effrontery. Asking for her credentials in a way that implied he suspected she had none. What nerve!
She opened the door wider and stepped backwards into the entryway. She focused her attention on Sam. “Come in. I’ll show you where we have our piano recitals, and then I’ll take you to my music studio.”
Sam happily followed her into the house, his sneakers squeaking on the hardwood floor. His guardian’s steps were markedly slow and deliberate as he crossed the threshold. Her home was the last place he wanted to be.
She led them into the front room, a high-ceilinged space with a polished dark oak hardwood floor. Windows on two of the walls cast early evening light on the glossy-black baby grand piano that stood on a red Persian rug. It was the only item of furniture other than a brass floor lamp.
“This is where I hold recitals,” she explained to Sam. “There’s enough space for about thirty folding chairs. My next recital will be in three weeks. I’d love for you to come to it and see what it’s all about.”
“You live here alone?” The curt question came from the boy’s guardian. He was leaning against one side of the arched opening between the entryway and the music room, arms folded across his chest. His eyes swept the room with an impassive expression.
Lindy pursed her lips with annoyance. “Yes. Why?”
He lifted one eyebrow at her. “It’s a beautiful home. This is a pricey neighborhood. I wasn’t aware piano teachers earned that much money.”
She seethed inwardly; only Sam’s presence prevented her from snarling at this impossible man. Her voice remained calm, but her eyes narrowed. “This was my aunt’s home and then my mother’s. We—my mother, brother and I—moved here when I was three.”
“Your parents are divorced?”
“My father died before we moved here. What’s with the twenty questions?” she said, repeating the words he’d said to her at their first meeting.
He ignored the jibe. “It’s natural for a parent to want to learn more about someone who may have a role in their child’s education.”
“Didn’t your aunts tell you about my background?”
He shrugged. “Only that you teach piano, and they’ve known you for a while.”
“I have fifteen students. The oldest ones have been coming to me for almost five years. I’ve never had a complaint from their parents.”
“Only fifteen?” he said in a low voice, his shrewd gaze surveying the room again.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” she said with brittle politeness, “But my mother deeded this house to me five years ago. I pay the taxes. And teaching piano isn’t my only job. Are you done with your inquisition, Mr. Wakefield?”
He pushed himself away from the wall. “For now.”
She scowled at him and captured a curious glint in his eyes before he dropped the lids to half-mast. The audacity of this man! If Sam wasn’t here, she’d—
“Uncle Devin?” an inquisitive voice piped. “Is this the lady who made you fall off your bike?”
Lindy’s mouth dropped open. “Made you?”
Obviously entertained by her outrage, Devin Wakefield’s mouth curved in a quick smile. “Yep. This is the one.”
“Of all the—” She bit down on the words boiling inside of her when Sam giggled.
“Uncle Devin was so mad,” the boy told her. “He kept saying stuff about skinny blondes who talked too—”
“Sam,” his guardian warned sharply.
“Skinny blonde?” Lindy muttered under her breath.
“But that’s how I figured it was her,” Sam said. “Plus, the blue eyes. Uncle Devin said you have pretty eyes.”
The startling compliment put a pin in Lindy’s irritation. This impossible man called her eyes pretty? She met his bland expression with an arched eyebrow. “Well, how kind of your uncle to say something nice about me. I might faint from shock.”
Sam walked over to the piano and traced his fingers over the smooth lid. “This is like my aunties’ piano, but smaller. Can I play it?”
“You may play it at your first recital,” Lindy said, then swiveled her head back to the boy’s guardian. “You asked about my credentials, Mr. Wakefield. I began studying piano when I was six years old, and I also play the guitar and flute. I have a BA in music with a minor in graphic art from Dominican University.”
“You received your education locally then,” he said in a placid voice.
“I can’t boast a diploma from Berklee or Juilliard, but that hardly disqualifies me as a professional musician and educator. I’m certified with the California Association of Professional Music Teachers, and I served as the local chapter president for two years.”
Lindy had placed her hands on her hips during her defensive speech, not realizing until too late the action caused her yellow cotton blouse to stretch across her chest. Bold, masculine eyes flashed with what appeared to be appreciation as they briefly landed on her heaving bosom. She felt heat burning from her neck to her cheeks when the man’s gaze, impenetrable once more, met her own.
“I’m impressed,” he said. “But uncertain piano lessons are a good idea. Not right now. I don’t plan on staying in King’s Valley for very long.”
Flustered by the deliberate stare he’d given her, Lindy turned back to Sam in time to catch the glow of excitement evaporating from his little face. The boy quickly lowered his head, trying to hide the hurt she sensed emanating from him. Her heart ached for him. She would fight for this sweet boy.
Choosing to pretend his guardian hadn’t spoken, she set her hand on Sam’s thin shoulder and steered him towards the kitchen. “Let me show you my music studio. That’s where I teach. But let’s stop in the kitchen for a second so you can wash your hands.”
The boy perked up. “Okay.”
She brushed by his grim-faced guardian, who hadn’t moved from his stance in the doorway. She avoided his eyes. The tension emanating from him as she passed by was palpable. As she guided Sam into the kitchen, she overheard the man’s muffled sigh of displeasure. She smirked. Two could play this game, and she was determined to win.
After Sam had washed and dried his hands at the sink, Lindy led him out the side door, his guardian close behind. She glimpsed Mr. Atkinson standing in his garden as they paused on the walkway while she unlocked the studio door. She sensed her neighbor’s inquisitive eyes on her back. No doubt he’d be full of burning questions when she came to fetch Louie later.
“This used to be the garage,” she explained as she pushed the door open and flicked on the light.
Sam scooted eagerly past her into the carpeted room. She peered over her shoulder at his guardian while waving her hand toward the far wall. “Please take a glance at the framed diploma and teaching certificates over there,” she invited in a cool tone.
His reply held a thread of amusement. “Oh, I’ll be sure to.”
Why did her studio suddenly seem so small? Lindy stepped forward, anxious to put a greater distance between herself and Devin Wakefield. She looked around her, seeing the studio through her visitors’ eyes.
She’d converted the space five years ago, soon after graduating from college. She’d exposed the ceiling to the beams and added two skylights for natural light. She also had the walls soundproofed. She lined one wall with shelving holding her collection of music books, vinyl records, and compact discs. Framed pictures of the great composers and a colorful chart detailing the history of the piano decorated the adjacent wall. Another shelving unit held most of the books she’d acquired during her studies, plus some old leather-bound tomes that had belonged to her father. A whiteboard on an easel stood in one corner beside a tiny cherry wood writing desk and a dainty cushioned chair.
Lindy hadn’t wanted her students to get distracted during their lesson time, so she’d had the windows installed higher up. Beneath the windows stood two upright pianos, side by side. There were several music books, a metronome, and a few potted plants placed in no particular order on top of each piano.
For her, it was a cozy room that inspired both studiousness and tranquility. Its soft colors of cream and sage-green seemed to tone down the high spirits of some of her more excitable students. The room had a pleasant, soothing fragrance too, of leather-bound books, polished wood and the cinnamon potpourri she kept in a jar on her writing desk. She hoped at least one or two skilled pianists of the future would begin their musical journey in this room. Her heart filled with pride at the thought.
“Now can I, uh, may I play, Miss Lindy?”
“Yes, you may,” she said, delighted by the boy’s impatience. She pulled the bench away from the nearest piano and motioned him to sit down. He opened the lid and touched the ebony and ivory keys with reverence. “Your aunts told me you like to invent songs,” she said. “Why don’t you play one of them for me?”
“Sure,” Sam said, not the least bit shy.
She stepped back from the piano as the boy picked out a tune with two fingers. She was very aware of his guardian’s presence in the room. The man had been inspecting her diploma, and the other framed items on display. Now he came to stand beside her, hands shoved in his trouser pockets as he watched Sam play.
The tune seemed senseless at first, but gradually Lindy detected a theme and a repeated melody. The song was slow and melancholy. The boy’s face was a study in concentration, his lower lip jutting outwards as he focused on the keys.
“He has very good potential,” she whispered to the man beside her without looking at him.
“I guess.” His voice held a grudging tone. “But it could be a passing interest.”
She peeked at his unsmiling profile. “That’s possible,” she said. “The best way to discover for certain is to allow him to take lessons. If his heart is really in it, he’ll practice. If not?” She shrugged. “At least he’ll get to try something new.”
He slanted his gaze towards her. “I don’t want him cooped up inside playing the piano all day. He needs to be outside with other kids.”
Lindy gave him a dumbfounded stare. “Don’t tell me you think his interest in music is a slight on his masculinity!”
His eyebrows soared. “Not at all—”
“Because I’ll have you know most of my students are boys,” Lindy bit out, striving to keep her voice low while Sam continued to play. “Men composed much of the music I teach. Many of the world’s greatest pianists are men—”
He was shaking his head. “You’ve got it all wrong, lady, that’s not what—”
“It’s Lindy!”
The flash of healthy white teeth startled her as his face broke into a wide smile. The smile was just as she’d imagined it would be, creasing his hardened features attractively and causing her heart to jump into her throat.
“I stand corrected,” he said in a quiet tone. “You’ve reminded me a few times. I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together when my aunts mentioned you this afternoon. Lindy isn’t a very common name.”
“My father loved aviation,” she said as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a distracted gesture. “My mother said he’d always wanted to name one of his children after Charles Lindbergh.”
“Was he disappointed when you turned out to be a girl instead of a boy?”
“I don’t remember my father. I was almost three when he died. But I don’t think it disappointed him to have a girl. I have an older brother.”
He examined her features, his eyes lingering on her mouth for a heart-stopping moment before sliding away. When he met her eyes again, his expression was impassive once more, but she no longer sensed his previous coolness towards her. “I’d like to speak with you in private.” He nodded towards Sam.
Not stopping to analyze her eagerness to meet with Devin Wakefield alone, she went over to Sam and touched his shoulder. “That sounds wonderful, Sam. Please keep playing. I’m going outside for a few minutes to talk about the lessons with your uncle.”
Sam swiveled around. “Does that mean I’m taking lessons, Uncle Devin?” he asked, unable to contain his excitement.
His guardian’s features relaxed as he met Sam’s pleading blue eyes. Lindy sensed his love for the child when Devin answered with a gentle voice, “Maybe.”
“Awesome!” Taking the noncommittal response as a yes, Sam beamed at Lindy. “I’ll practice so hard, Miss Lindy. I’ll be the best student you ever had!”
She wanted to hug him, but she gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze instead. “I don’t doubt that for a second. Now keep playing. We’ll be back soon.”
Devin led her outside. He walked across the pathway and through the gate opening into her backyard. He paused in the center of the small lawn, hands on his hips as he surveyed the colorful assortment of fall flowers blooming along the back fence.
“That will be one disappointed little boy if you don’t allow him to take lessons,” Lindy said in a calm voice as she studied his reserved profile.
“I realize that,” he said, not looking her way.
The sun was setting in the west. A flock of migrating geese cut an arrow in the sky, their bodies so low she heard the calls they made to each other. She caught movement from the corner of her eye and glanced towards Mr. Atkinson’s house to detect the telltale flutter of the curtains at his kitchen window. He’d probably put his hearing aid on the highest setting to eavesdrop on their conversation. She walked over to the wooden bench on the brick patio out of her neighbor’s sight and sat down.
When Devin remained silent, she asked, “How’s your knee?”
“It was a sprain. I have it wrapped. It’ll be fine.”
“Did you make it to that important dinner date?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad.” While her tone carried commiseration, she was secretly glad he’d missed the date because she assumed it’d been with a woman. Then she caught herself; why should his personal life matter to her?
“I went back to the park the next day,” he said, sounding displeased. “I forgot my bike helmet. But it wasn’t there.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Sincerity underlined her words this time.
Silence fell once more. He seemed to be dragging his feet on discussing Sam. She wondered if his hesitancy had anything to do with how they’d first met. If they didn’t clear the air about the harsh words he’d spoken to her that day, there might always be this unease between them.
Finally, she said, “It surprised me when I opened the front door. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
“Same here.”
“You said I was the last person you expected to see. You didn’t want to see me again.”
Perhaps he detected the trace of hurt in her voice, because he turned and walked over to her and sat down on the bench beside her. He kept his gaze straight ahead as he said, “I recognize that wasn’t a gracious thing to say. Although can you blame me after what happened at the park?”
“You mean when a skinny blonde got in your way?”
He angled his head towards her. A corner of his mouth curled in a wry smile. “Well, it’s true.”
Lindy rolled her eyes. “Okay. Let’s not start that again. You really are an obstinate man. I don’t think you’ll ever admit the accident was not all my fault.”
He shifted slightly on the bench, his arm grazing hers. “Obstinate, hmm? I guess that’s one word to describe me. But I can say the same about you, Lindy.”
Her cheeks heated unexpectedly at the sound of her name spoken by him for the first time. She turned her face away a little so he wouldn’t see her blush. She liked the timbre of his voice when he wasn’t in a temper. It was low and placid, but with just a touch of gravel.
She thought about what his aunts had told her, about how he’d apparently had a falling out with his father and turned his back on his inheritance. Upon recalling that, she said, “I figured there was something else bothering you that day. Your anger wasn’t all related to the accident, was it?”
The sudden sharpness of his gaze touched her profile, and she braced herself for a rebuttal. But he kept silent.
Sam’s music drifted towards them from the open studio door.
Eventually, Devin spoke, seeming to choose his words carefully. “You’re right. I had several things bothering me that day. I went on the bike ride to release some aggressions. I was too harsh with you. I apologize.”
He paused when Lindy swiveled toward him, a warm smile lighting her face. He stared at her for a second before tearing his gaze away. He frowned, waving his hand in dismissal. “Let’s just forget about the accident, okay? Let’s talk about Sam.”
Lindy toned down the delight sweeping through her at his belated apology. “All right.”
His voice turned gruff. “I want to set something straight about him. I’m guessing my aunts told you some things about his background?”
“Yes. They told me about his parents. What a tragedy.”
His face darkened. “It was. Tim was my best friend. We ran a business together. I was already Sam’s godfather, so when Tim and his wife made their will, they named me his legal guardian in case anything happened to them before Sam became a legal adult.”
“He calls you uncle.”
“His parents raised him to think of me that way. He doesn’t have any other relatives worth knowing.”
“He’s such a sweet boy. He seems to be managing okay.”
Devin sighed. “He’s different. Once, he was a little fireball, constantly getting into things. Always curious. Since the accident, he’s become withdrawn and sensitive.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and grimaced with frustration. “That’s one reason I’m still stalling on these piano lessons. And no, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with a boy taking piano lessons. I’m just worried this will make him even more introverted. It’s not healthy for him to be alone so much.”
Lindy wanted to put her arm around him and comfort him. His love and concern for the boy was real and heartwarming. Here he was, a single man in his prime, and he’d assumed the responsibility of raising a boy who wasn’t his own flesh and blood. She wondered at the sacrifices he must have made to take Sam under his wing. It could be the responsibility was overwhelming him. She also wondered if he’d ever spoken his frustrations aloud before today. If not, then she felt honored.
“I understand your concern,” she said in a soft tone. “But I believe music lessons will be good for him. I realize I’ve only just met him, and I don’t know everything about his situation and yours, but just from observing him play, I sense music is an outlet for his emotions. He’s a sad little boy, and that’s normal under the circumstances. It might take him a long time to accept his loss fully.”
She touched Devin’s arm lightly, compelling him to look at her. He turned his head, his grey eyes slowly roaming over her earnest face. “Learning how to play music will give Sam confidence. He’ll be so proud, knowing he can do something few other kids his age can. Don’t worry if he spends so much time by himself. Let him do what he wants in this case.”
Devin appeared to hesitate a moment before covering her hand with his own. “Didn’t I tell you that you talk too much?” His voice was gently teasing.
Her breath caught on a little hitch before she said lightly, “I believe your exact words were, Lady, don’t you ever stop talking?”
He pressed her hand softly before releasing it. Then he stood up from the bench. “Well, don’t stop. You’ve said excellent things I needed to hear.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you.” He smiled down at her. “I’m raising a little boy on my own. I should ask for a woman’s advice more often than I do. I don’t think I’m cut out to be a father. Sometimes I wonder if I’m doing anything right at all.”
Before Lindy could contradict him, the smile vanished and his features turned remote. It was as if he suddenly regretted revealing any sign of weakness to her.
One step forward, two steps back, she thought wistfully. She stood up and said in a brisk voice, “I think we should get going with Sam’s lessons right away. I have an open slot at four o’clock on Thursday afternoons. Will that work for you?”
“If that’s what the lady, I mean, Lindy wishes,” was his casual reply.
A few minutes later, Lindy stood on the front doorstep watching Devin Wakefield’s car as it swung away from the curb. She saw everything at that moment in perfect clarity: the shiny black car, the dusky evening sky, Sam’s tousled dirty-blond head leaning out the passenger window as he waved goodbye. As the car rounded the corner, she pressed a hand over her heart—a heart full to bursting.