Page 116 of Symphony of Salvation

Maybe part of me knew the truth when I’d sat down, but hearing confirmation that August didn’t want the job wasn’t as reassuring as I’d hoped. It solidified his imminent departure. Nothing, not his daughter nor a superior job opportunity, could keep him from the bright lights of the stage.

Not even me.

He was always going to return to Chicago.

“I’m cold, Niles. Would you like to come back to the house with me? I thought, since Constance will be gone until nine, maybe I could cook dinner.”

I was more than cold. I was numb, but it had nothing to do with the plummeting temperatures.

Agreeing, I followed August along the path, away from the lake and back into the forest to his cottage. He madechicken and homemade gnocchi with oven-roasted vegetables. “My grandmother’s recipe,” he said spearing a fanciful potato dumpling from the skillet and holding it out, a hand cupped underneath the fork to protect against sauce drips as he offered it for me to try.

Warm and soft, the gnocchi burst with flavor. I hummed approval, and August beamed, dark eyes dancing with satisfaction. As our relationship progressed, August grew comfortable sharing the various facets of who he was. He took pride in cooking, presenting a cultural experience with every meal. But he only shone when I praised his effort. I’d become the happy recipient of many delicious meals.

Dinner was lovely, and wine flowed as we ate. August lit a few candles, setting the atmosphere. It was hard not to get sucked into the romance of it all, to remember how this story ended. How it was always going to end.

After the meal, I helped him tidy the kitchen. We danced around one another effortlessly, shirtsleeves rolled, August in fine spirits, making jokes and laughing as though oblivious to my heartache.

At one point, after I’d dried and put away the last dish, August pulled me into his arms, securing his hands on my hips. I was the rare witness to his disheveled state. Only at home. Never in public.

“Oh, Niles,” he said on a released breath.

“What?”

He had the look of a man who had something important to say but didn’t know how to say it.

He searched my face, eyes glinting, pouring so many unspoken emotions I feared what he might say.

“Écho tyflotheí.” The whispered words hung between us.

I offered a wary smile. “There you go again. Cursing me in a different language.”

“I’m not cursing you. Quite the opposite.”

“How would I know? You never translate. Do I have to wait foranother day?”

August shook his head, and his surety broke, nerves leaking to the surface. “I told you I’ve never been serious with anyone. I’ve experienced all kinds of superficial relationships throughout my adult life, but nothing has ever stuck. Everything was short-lived. The impulse to seek more was never there. I travel a lot. I’ve never settled anywhere for long. A year or two, maybe, then off on a new adventure. I always thought love was for other people, and that was fine. I didn’t go searching for it. I wasn’t sure I wanted it.”

Heart knocking, I held my breath and listened as August mused. He seemed to be circling a point like a vulture might his road-killed dinner. Only, I wasn’t sure if he was saying goodbye or the complete opposite.

He touched my cheek, brushed a stray chunk of hair behind my ear, and repeated the Greek phrase that had become familiar in the past few months. I figured it was an endearment of some kind, and he was too embarrassed to share.

“What does it mean?” He would answer me now. I knew he would.

Leaning his forehead against mine, August closed his eyes and exhaled. “I’ve been blindsided, Niles. Écho tyflotheí. In no universe did I expect to come to Timber Creek and fall in love.”

I couldn’t breathe. “Are you… What are you…”

He opened his eyes and peered deep into my soul. “I am madly in love with you.”

“Oh.” August was the last thing I’d expected, too, but everything I wanted, and the walls I’d held precariously around my heart crumbled. The words I’d clung to out of fear and necessity spilled unchecked from my mouth. “I’ve loved you for months, but… you’re leaving.”

He held my face, strong and confident, with a tinge of despair dampening the edges. “I am.”

My stomach sank, and I tried to pull away, but he held firm.

“I have to, Niles. I can’t take your job. It’s a cruelty I can’t abide. Besides, there are… things that require my attention in Chicago.”

My insides quivered, and I forcibly pushed from his hold. “So, what? You tell me you love me but you’re walking out the door? I don’t understand. Are you coming back?”

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