Hearts Unfold (65 page)

When they returned to the
hotel, Emily agreed she could use a nap while Stani went to meet with
Milo.
 
“I'll be back by five or so.
 
We have a late night, and you wouldn't want
to doze off during Carmen, would you?”
 
He left her curled on the couch in her suite, holding the memory of her
sleepy smile as he set off for Milo's office.
 
He had hoped the matter could wait; he'd done all he could to convince
Milo of his stand on the issue of this latest recording project, but Milo was
not ready to admit defeat.
 
He wanted to
discuss the idea further, his note had stated.
 
He had a new thought or two if Stani could only give him a few minutes
of his time.
 
Not willing to antagonize
him at a time when the meeting with Emily was looming, Stani felt he had no
choice but to agree.

By the time he returned to his
rooms, his head was pounding ominously.
 
John recognized the pallor and the tight lines around his mouth and
ordered him to sit.
 
“How bad's the
head?”

Stani probed his left temple.
 
“Not too bad.
 
Just get me some aspirin, please.
 
Not the other.
 
Not yet.”
 
Stretching on the couch, he rested his head
gingerly on the arm.
 
“Remind me why I
even try to reason with him?
 
He always
wins.”
 

There was a soft knock at the
door and he sat up immediately, wincing and running a hand through his
hair.
 
As John went to answer, Stani attempted
to compose his face into a smile.

With a final glance in his
direction, John opened the door.
 
“Come
in, my lady.
 
The master's just
returned.”

Emily laughed at his deep bow,
but as soon as she caught sight of Stani she rushed past.
 
Her hand went to his forehead, touching the
already clammy skin.
 
“Stani, you're
sick.
 
What is it?”

He caught her hand, making an
attempt to smile up at her.
 
“Just a
little headache, nothing to worry about.”
 
He took the aspirin and water glass from John.
 
“I'll be fine.
 
Did you get your nap?”

“Yes.
 
Don't change the subject.
 
What kind of headache?”
 
She stopped his hand as he raised the aspirin
to his lips.

“Just the usual.”
 
He sighed, sensing defeat.

“Migraine?”

“Not yet.
 
Emily, love, I'll be fine.
 
Just let me rest for a bit.”
 
John stood by, silently holding out a
prescription bottle for her to see.
 
“No!
 
I don't want that
stuff.
 
It knocks me silly.”

She studied the bottle's
label.
 
“I'm sure it does.
 
John, can we get some soda, something with
caffeine?
 
And some crackers, too.
 
But Stani, if the aspirin doesn't work you'll
have to take this.
 
I won't stand by and
watch you hurt.
 
We'll need some ice too,
please, John.”

While John phoned room
service, she went to the bedroom, returning with a pillow and blanket.
 
“Stretch out.
 
And let me take off your boots.
 
Does the light hurt your eyes?”
 
He nodded, giving himself over to her attentions.
 
“John, would you mind closing the
blinds?
 
Now, show me where it hurts the
worst.”
 
He raised his hand to his
temple, his eyes closed.
 
“Near the
scar?”
 
Again, he nodded.
 
“Did you have these before the
accident?”
 
She was scooping ice from the
bucket John provided, folding it into a towel.

“No, but ever since.
 
Concussion.”
 
The effort of a few words was painful now and he clenched his jaw.

With a gentle hand, she
brushed his hair aside and applied the ice pack.
 
“Just try to relax.
 
I take it this is the result of the meeting
with Milo?”
 
She looked to John for
confirmation.
 
“Just forget about it
now.
 
He's not worth a migraine, I'm
sure.”

The room service waiter was at
the door in minutes, bearing a tray of Cokes and a big basket of crackers.
 
“Looks like the party's here.
 
Can you sit up long enough to drink
this?
 
It'll help the aspirin work
faster.”

“I don't drink soda, love.
 
It's too sweet,” he said through clenched
teeth.

“I don't care, darling.
 
Consider it medicine.
 
Now drink.
 
And eat at least one of these crackers, so maybe you won't throw up all
over me.”

He grinned weakly.
 
“Are you this compassionate with all your
patients?”

“You're not my patient.
 
You're my man.
 
Now just lie very still and think good
thoughts.”
 
She took up a position at the
end of the couch, holding the ice pack in place and massaging the back of his
neck, watching with satisfaction as he visibly relaxed, expelling a long sigh.

Emily looked her question to
John, who seemed to read her thoughts.
 
“Maybe one a month, depending on what's going on, although lately
they’ve seemed to come less often.
 
His
doctor said it's typical after that kind of head injury.
 
Any kind of tension can bring it on.”
 
His voice low, John stood over Stani, staring
down with a concerned frown.
 
“He and Milo
are in negotiation over some new recording project, if you want to call it
negotiation when one party is always right.”

“You're sure this doesn't have
anything to do with me?” she asked softly.

“Mozart,” Stani
whispered.
 
“I'm not deaf, you realize.”

“Shh.
 
You just relax.
 
Mozart?”

“Milo’s pushing him to
compose, variations or some such thing.
 
He's always done it, even when he was a little boy.
 
Called it his doodles.”
 
He flashed a momentary grin at Stani's grunt
of protest.
 
“But this time, Milo wants
him to write them out for orchestra and record them.
 
Frankly, I don't quite see why he's so set
against it.”

“I'm a serious musician.
 
I don't like gimmicks.”
 
Stani's voice was soft and drowsy now.

“Gimmicks?”
 
Emily looked to John again.

“Something about the
marketing, rock star or crossover or the like.
 
I try not to get involved, girl.
 
They're always at it about one thing or another.
 
But this time, the lad's been pretty stubborn.”

Emily glanced at her
watch.
 
“Any better yet?”
 
She laid a hand on his forehead.
 
His color was improved and the tightness
around his mouth had relaxed.
 
He opened
his eyes cautiously.

“Yes, I think so.
 
You're a miracle worker, love.”

“No, we just caught it in
time.
 
Now just stay here and rest.
 
I think we should skip the opera
tonight.
 
The noise could bring back your
headache.”

“No, I'll be fine, I
promise.
 
What time is it?”
 
He made a move to get up and she put a firm
hand on his chest, holding him down.

“We have two hours.
 
Rest!
 
John, can you keep him quiet?
 
I'll go get myself ready in case he's really up to going.
 
What are our dinner plans?
 
I think room service might be the best
idea.
 
And John, could you drive us, in case
we need to leave the opera early?”
 
Dropping a kiss on Stani's forehead, she took the ice pack to the sink
in the little kitchen.
 
“Now, if you two
can manage, I'll go visit with Jimmy the elevator boy again.
 
Did you know he went to Harvard?
 
Class of 1930.”
 
She let herself out, picking up Stani's key
as she went.
 
“I'll be back, and I expect
to find you snoring.”

“I don't snore!”
 
But she was gone, leaving John chuckling as
he poured himself a Coke.

“Well, lad, I'd say you've got
just the woman there to look after you.
 
And a nurse, at that.
 
Not to
mention the loveliest smile we've seen in a while.
 
Why is it you waited so long to go looking
for her?”

“Because up until now I've let
Milo live my life for me.
 
But no
more.
 
That said, I
will
be doing
his blasted recording, his way, I'm afraid.”
 
He ran a hand through his hair, heaving a ragged sigh.

“Not to sound like I'm on his
side, but Milo just wants you to take the next step.
 
Why fight when you know you can do it?
 
You did that little piece for Emily.
 
What did that take you, maybe all of two
days?
 
You've got months to work on this
Mozart thing.”

Stani raised his hands in
surrender.
 
“Okay, but when I keep you up
all hours of the night, don't forget you were the one who encouraged me.
 
Now, I'm supposed to be resting.
 
I can't afford to lose time with her while
she's here.
 
Three months without her may
kill me, John.
 
I need to store up as
much Emily as I can.”

When Emily let herself back
into Stani's suite, he was just coming from the bedroom, shrugging on his
shirt.
 
“Still feeling better?
 
No headache?”
 
Without answering, he pulled her into his arms.
 
As he prepared to kiss her, she pulled
back.
 
“Stani, don't try to fool me.
 
How's the head?”

“My head is fine.
 
Spinning just a bit at the sight of you, but
I'm sure that will pass if you'll just kiss me.”
 
In her simple black dress, with a single
strand of pearls accenting its plunging neckline, she seemed suddenly,
stunningly sophisticated.

“Is it all right?
 
It's old, but I thought it would do to sit in
the dark.
 
Martha Jean says a little
black dress can go anywhere.”

“It's ravishing.
 
And very appropriate.
 
But aren't you the girl who left here a while
ago in blue jeans?”
 
He stood still as
she buttoned his shirt, trying not to stare.
 
“You do know that dress is the most revealing thing I've seen you wear?”

She blushed.
 
“Too revealing?
 
I could always change.”

“Don't you dare.
 
I just have to get used to my little farm
girl looking so grown up.
 
You're
beautiful.
 
And tall.”
 
The heels on her shoes were low by fashion
standards, but Stani, in his stocking feet, was forced to pull her head down
for the long awaited kiss.

“I'm sorry.”
 
His finger on her lips silenced her apology.

“Not sorry.
 
Perfect.
 
Now what is it we're having for dinner?
 
I'm the one who's starving this time.”

“I ordered lamb chops.
 
It should be here soon.
 
I assumed John would be joining us?”
 
She continued fussing with his shirt buttons.

“Yes, any minute now,
actually.
 
He was very impressed, by the
way.”

“With what?”

“With the way you took charge
earlier.
 
And with the way you seem to
take to the big city.
 
And you were so
worried you wouldn't be comfortable here.”

“I didn't realize I could be
useful.
 
Besides, the city's not so
big.
 
At least not one block at a
time.
 
I think I could get used to
it.
 
Especially with you around.”
 
This time the kiss was interrupted by the
subtle knock of the room service waiter.