Page 65 of Mistaken

“Are we singing this morning?” she asked.

An amusing way to phrase the question, since she was the one who did all the singing while he merely provided the accompaniment. But he supposed he could see why she’d said it like that, as though she wanted to make sure he knew he was an important element of her practice sessions.

And since he had thought a great deal about how this morning should go — and had decided they should carry on as normal, at least until they decided to do otherwise — he had no problem with immediately responding, “I thought we would. And perhaps we could work in the garden a bit, and then go for a ride?”

She agreed that sounded like a good idea, and, after a bit of back and forth, they both decided on egg white omelets with tomatoes and bell peppers and white cheese, something that would be tasty without being too heavy. During the breakfast that followed, they chatted about what they might make for dinner — it was decided that grilled chicken and more vegetables were a good meal for a summer evening — and discussed further plans for the grounds.

It was all so very normal that Abdul began to wonder if perhaps he had imagined their embraces of the night before or the kiss of greeting that Sarah had given him earlier that morning. But no…from time to time, their gazes would lock, and those rich sea-colored eyes would become an ocean he would gladly drown in. The need and longing were there, clear enough for him to see, and he guessed she was doing her best to return to the time when they had not shared any intimacies at all, was trying to be casual because she feared she wouldn’t be able to otherwise keep a tight hold on her emotions.

He told himself that was all right. It was not as if he needed her to declare her love for him every second of the day, and those lingering looks she gave him were enough to express her feelings even if she did not utter anything aloud.

After breakfast — and after they had both taken a quick break to clean their teeth — they met in the music room. He sat down on the bench and gave her an expectant glance.

“So,” he said. “What should it be today? More Mozart?”

For she had been practicing an aria fromCosi Fan Tutte,something well suited to her pure soprano, and although he thought she had done very well with it, he had known she still wanted to keep tinkering away, getting it closer to her internal idea of perfection.

“No,” she said. “I’d like to try ‘Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again’ fromPhantom.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. Although he was somewhat familiar with the song because of the multiple times he had listened to the musical, wanting to learn it so he could see something of why it had been so important to her, he had also gotten the impression that she was not very eager to sing that particular piece, with its clear message of loss and sorrow.

“You are sure?” he inquired, even as he realized that perhaps hadn’t been the most politic question to ask.

Her shoulders set, and her chin lifted. “I think I’m ready.”

Although he had only been around her for a little more than a week, he knew it was not wise to argue when she wore that kind of determined expression. “Very well,” he said. “Although I would like to play it through once to familiarize myself with the notes. I had thought we were going to work on ‘Come Scoglio.’”

While she didn’t precisely relax, something about the set of her mouth seemed to ease somewhat. “Oh, that’s fine. It’ll help me get into the right head space.”

So he thumbed through all the scores he carried in his mind, located the correct one, and launched into the song. It was very lovely, although sad, and he had been secretly hoping for a while that Sarah might wish to sing it, just so he could hear her rendition of the tune.

When he was done, he looked back up at her. “Are you ready now?”

“I am,” she said. “Go ahead and start whenever you like.”

He played the introduction, and when her voice joined with the notes of the piano, it was as if the music had been distilled into pure sorrow, sweet, but at the same time an ocean of tears pouring into his soul. And when she sang,“Help me say goodbye”for the second time, and the note drifted effortlessly into an octave jump that reverberated throughout the room, Abdul realized tears of his own had slipped down his cheeks.

Sarah had remained in the curve of the piano for a moment after she was done, but then she looked over at him and made a sound of dismay. “Abdul, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing is the matter,” he replied as he lifted his hands from the keyboard so he could wipe the tears from his face. “Or at least, what used to be the matter is perhaps not as painful as it once was. That was beautiful, Sarah.”

Her mouth curved in a small smile. “It took a long time to work up the nerve to sing it again. But I’m glad I did.”

“I am glad as well,” he said, then rose from the bench. Sarah sent him an inquiring glance, and he added, “I do not think you can improve on what you just sang. It seems somehow wrong to go back and pick it apart like you would some of the other pieces you’ve been practicing.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “I can think of a few places where I’d want to work with it some more, but I understand. Let’s just leave it alone for now.” She looked down at herself, at the white dress she wore, and her mouth quirked. “If we’re going to head out to the garden, though, I’d better change. This thing wouldn’t last five minutes out there.”

Abdul knew the moment had passed, so he allowed himself a smile of his own. “That would probably be wise. I will meet you in the kitchen.”

“Give me five minutes.”

She came over to him, went on her tiptoes so she could press a soft kiss against his mouth, and then she hurried out of the room.

As he watched her go, Abdul lifted a hand to touch the lips she had kissed just a moment earlier. It had come so naturally to her, the caress almost casual, as if she understood this was how things would be between them going forward and there was no reason to act otherwise.

He thought he liked it very much.

Once again, Sarah was much lighter of spirit than she’d expected. Yes, she’d determined that she would sing that bugaboo of a song and get it over with, but once she’d accomplished what had first seemed like an impossible feat, she understood more than ever why it had been so important to her.

---