Hearts Unfold (31 page)

She poked at
the fire, encouraging the last of the embers to flame.
 
As she did, Marjorie came to rub against her
knee, purring loudly.

“So, you've
decided to be friends now?
 
You know, I
have a nice warm bed upstairs if you'd like to share.”
 
She gathered the cat onto her lap, smoothing
the silky fur.
 
Comforting, she thought,
the simplest contact between living things could be amazingly comforting.
 
A word, or just a touch, could move aside
sadness at least for a little while.
 
As
if the cat shared her sentiments, she rubbed against Emily's hand, closing her
eyes in contentment.

When she
finally went up to her room, Marjorie followed, leaping onto the bed and
settling at the foot to take her evening bath.
 
As Emily snuggled between the cold sheets, she thought again of Stani
Moss, hoping that he had found comfort and encouragement as he recovered.
 
It made all the difference having someone, be
it friends or lovers, close by to lend support.
 
Someone to call in the middle of the night, someone to come when asked,
and most of all someone who cared enough, no matter what was needed, to do
their best for you.
 
She had been so
blessed in that regard, with her parents, with Jack and Angela, and countless
others.
 
Did he have those people in his
life, who loved him unconditionally and accepted him as he was?
 
She'd never know, but she would pray for them
anyway.
 
Somehow she felt Stani still
needed all the help he could find if he were ever going to make that amazing
comeback she had imagined.

Chapter Twenty-six

Stani began to
work harder, demanding that the therapists increase his exercise regimen.
 
He and John Kimble took long walks outside in
the cold winter air, usually at night to avoid prying eyes.
 
He asked that his violin be placed within
easy reach, holding it in his hands for hours, tucking it against his shoulder
and sitting with eyes closed, listening to the music in his head.

His memory
began to return, bit by bit.
 
He
remembered leaving Washington with Betsy.
 
He was finally told that Betsy and Mark Stevenson had died in the
accident.
 
But he had no recollection of
the party at the lodge, or of ever meeting Mark.
 
When he asked about the aftermath of the
accident, he was told that he had wandered away from the scene and been taken
in by a woman who lived nearby until help arrived.
 
Stani seemed to store the information away,
as if it were too much to absorb.
 
As he
focused on regaining the use of his arm, it became less and less important for
him to understand how he had been injured.
 
All of his energy was channeled toward once again playing the
violin.
 
Nothing else mattered until he
achieved that goal.

The day after
his twenty-second birthday, Peg brought her hairdresser to the apartment.
 
When Stani's hair had once again been cut in
what had become his signature style, she chose black jeans and his favorite
charcoal V-neck sweater and helped him dress.

“We're going to
lunch,” she explained to the hovering John Kimble.
 
“There's a wonderful place near the harbor
where they do the most spectacular things with oysters.”
 
The three of them went together across town
to the little restaurant overlooking the water.
 
They shared a platter of oysters baked on the half shell, nestled around
a bed of savory Cajun rice.
 
Seated at a
private table near a huge window, Stani ate and talked and even laughed, giving
the impression that he had nothing to do but enjoy the beautiful spring day
with his two good friends.

When they were
preparing to leave, John said he believed, if they didn't mind returning
without him, he would take advantage of the day and see a bit of New York.
 
He'd been otherwise occupied for the past
couple of months, he reminded Stani with a wink.

They drove
through the park, making the trip to Peg's townhouse as leisurely as
possible.
 
Once there, she showed Stani
several pieces of art she'd recently acquired, sent over from a dealer in
Ireland.
 
They strolled in the garden at
the rear of the house, sitting finally in the chairs beside the little
fountain, chatting as if they had just met after being apart for a time, ignoring
the three months they had spent engaged in the battle for his recovery.
 
As the sun began to set, she led him to her
bedroom and made love to him.

When John left
the restaurant and began to wander aimlessly, he knew he was going against
orders.
 
Stani was never to leave his
sight outside the apartment.
 
But he felt
certain the boy would be safe with Peg Shannon, at least safe from everyone but
Peg herself.
 
At first he'd wondered
about this woman, so patrician and yet so down to earth.
 
By the time John had returned from Virginia
with the little information he could gather for Milo, Peg was already
established in Stani's hospital room.
 
He
understood that the two had been friends since before Stani's first tour, that
she had in fact raised the money to launch his solo career.
 
But John suspected there was much more to the
story, and he had watched her closely those first few days.

Peg, more so
than Jana, was insistent on providing Stani with hands-on care.
 
While Jana seemed intimidated by his
condition, almost afraid to touch him, Peg was eager to help the nurses care
for him while he remained unconscious.
 
She assisted them with turning and bathing him, helped to change his
bedding.
 
She kept a constant watch on
the various tubes that fed him and carried the bloody drainage from his
shoulder.

John had been
at his post in the hallway outside Stani's room that night, had heard the
chilling scream, and rushed in to find Peg attempting to reassure the boy as he
stared in horror at his bandaged shoulder.
 
Together, he and Peg had held Stani until the sedative could take
effect.
 
Though clearly shaken, Peg had
returned to her chair next to the bed, her hand resting comfortingly on Stani's
arm as he drifted back into unconsciousness.

Once Stani had
returned to the apartment, John had left his hotel to take up permanent
residence in the guest room there.
 
Peg
came every day, ostensibly to help Jana, but in fact working alongside the
therapists, encouraging Stani as he struggled to regain the use of his arm and
hand.
 
As John helped Stani bathe, shave
and dress, Peg was ever-present, choosing his clothes and brushing his
hair.
 
She was possessive of Stani, John
recognized, unwilling to leave him to anyone else's care for very long.

Gradually, Jana
began to go out more, resuming her life, content to let Stani remain with
Peg.
 
John sensed that the lad was
uncomfortable with so many hovering over him and took to retiring to his room
after lunch, leaving Peg to sit with Stani, reading to him or merely watching
the boy as he retreated to whatever dark place he so often seemed to go.

The afternoon
he woke from his doze to hear music coming from the stereo, he had almost
rushed in to interrupt.
 
Milo had stated
clearly that music was to be avoided until Stani himself asked for it.
 
John had stood in his partially open doorway
and watched as Stani listened to his own recording.
 
He heard him explain to Peg how he needed to
hear what he was working so hard to recapture.
 
For the first time John had acknowledged his own fears for the boy.
 
If indeed the injury should end his career,
what kind of life did he have to look forward to?

But Stani had
worked harder and begun to make progress after that day.
 
He seemed to take charge of his therapy,
finding the methods that best suited his temperament.
 
He insisted on taking long walks, though he
still had difficulty maintaining his balance.
 
John walked with him, arm in arm, and Stani even joked that he could
have used John around many nights when he'd enjoyed too much fine Scotch.
 
They had laughed at the shared knowledge of
the effects of good aged whisky.

John had gotten
a pretty clear picture from his investigation of the kind of crowd Stani had
been running with at the time of the accident.
 
It seemed to him that Stani was out of his depth with the likes of Mark
Stevenson.
 
He'd noted that while the
hospital room was filled with flowers and cards, and there were visits from
older friends, conductors and musicians who had known Stani since his youth,
virtually no one of his own generation came to see him.
 
There might have been hangers-on, people who
sought his company for the sake of publicity; but John suspected there had been
few if any real friendships.
 
Now Stani
was once again almost exclusively in the company of Milo and Jana, as he had
been when John had first known him all those years ago in London.
 
It wasn't normal, he knew, for a young man to
be so isolated, but perhaps it was best for someone like Stani.
 
Besides, now Stani had Peg Shannon as his
friend and champion.

As he wandered
through the park, enjoying the warm April afternoon, John thought he might like
to stay on in New York.
 
Of course, his
work with Stani was far from over.
 
It
would be months yet before the lad was ready to go out on his own.
 
But maybe he could find other work here.
 
At forty-eight, he was still young enough to
chafe at the idea of permanent retirement.
 
The work in London had been a bit thin in recent years.
 
New York was full of possibilities.
 
He filed away the idea for a time when Milo
might no longer want someone to watch over Stani's every move.

John smiled to
himself as he thought of Peg Shannon, the way she had spirited Stani away from
the restaurant.
 
He had a pretty good
idea of the nature of their relationship, though he couldn't be sure of course.
 
But if things were as he suspected between
the two of them, he was almost envious of Stani.
 
A woman like Peg Shannon was most probably a
formidable partner.
 
He shook his head at
the memory of that little red-haired boy he'd first come to know.
 
Young Stani had indeed done well for himself
in winning the affection of such a force as Peg Shannon.

Stani told her
that their lovemaking had been something like rebirth for him.
 
He felt, at least in part, like himself
again.
 
He accepted the fact that he had
months of hard work ahead before he could be sure he would play again.
 
But he now knew he would not stop trying
until all efforts had been exhausted.
 
He
had worked hard all those years growing up, intent on achieving success.
 
He was not about to let it all go without
giving it the fight of his life.

Gradually, as
his recovery progressed, Peg realized that something had changed between them;
something subtle, but there was a difference in Stani.
 
He was still warm and polite, but he never
seemed to find time to be alone with her, to come to her as he had in the
past.
 
She attributed it to the intense
focus he had placed on his recovery, his fierce pursuit of regaining his former
skill.
 
He spent hours now with Jana,
practicing with his violin.
 
He worked his
body hard, not just in therapy, but running in the park and lifting weights,
almost to the point of punishing himself.
 
He was somehow putting a space between them, changing himself into
someone she didn't quite recognize.

At the same
time, she knew she loved him even more, admired his new strength and
maturity.
 
She would wait until he had
healed and found his way back into his career.
 
Then she was sure they could resume their old comfortable
relationship.
 
She had almost lost him
after he'd returned from touring.
 
The
accident had ironically brought them together again.
 
He would come back, she was certain.
 
Why wouldn't he?
 
He knew there was no obligation, only the
special kind of pleasure they had always shared.
 
She knew him so well, understood him in ways
no one else did.
 
He would be back once
he knew his career was no longer in jeopardy, and she would be
there
.
 
For Stani, she could wait.