Page 48 of Singing For His Kiss

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The house was quiet. Elizabeth stood at the head of the stairs after putting Madeline to bed and singing a record's worth of songs. She’d have to think about a three-song limit at bedtime. A light flicked on the floor below. Someone had gone into Hanna’s room.

She descended the stairs quietly and peeked through the banisters to see James standing in the middle of the room, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Steeling a breath, Elizabeth walked the rest of the stairs and halted at the door.

“You know, I haven’t come into this room for years. Not since Hanna…” He bent his head, words choking him.

Elizabeth slowly came to his side. She really had no idea how to offer comfort, except to touch his arm lightly. Sometimes, though, when life got tough, it was best to talk it out. That’s what the nice foster mum had said to her once.

“Tell me what happened.”

James filled his lungs and let the air slip out of his mouth. “Brain tumour. I told you we found out after Hanna became pregnant with Madeline. Thought it was something to do with the pregnancy.” He looked at her with a tight grimace. “Didn’t know how wrong we were. We had the choice to abort the baby, undergo more intrusive tests to see exactly why she was so sick, or have the baby and treat her after the birth.”

“Not much of a choice,” Elizabeth said.

“Pretty much sucked. I went with Hanna’s decision to have the baby and then have the treatment. She didn’t know if she’d be able to have another baby after treatment and couldn’t stand the thought of abortion. She got sicker and sicker throughout the pregnancy. Madeline was born six weeks premature.

“Hanna was so weak by the time Madeline arrived, but she still had hope she could get better after the birth. She did everything the doctors said to do, to the letter. She had a baby to live for. The tumour shrunk, and she was told she could have an operation to take out the rest.

“She went through hell. Three surgeries, each time not quite recovering. Suffering. Getting weaker. She thought she’d beat it though. Was even declared in remission. That was, until the doctor said the cancer had come back. Her brain was riddled with tumours. The surgery had just exacerbated it. She died only a few weeks later.”

Elizabeth’s heart broke for the mother who wanted a child so badly, she chanced death. It broke harder when she imagined James standing over his dead wife’s grave, holding the bundle of joy she knew Madeline was.

“She was strong. To try to beat the cancer for her child. That takes strength and courage.”

“You should have seen her on those days close to her death. She had lost so much weight, her skin was sunken. Yellow. She couldn’t eat or drink. Too weak to lift her head. I hate to say it, but it was a mercy in the end.”

He turned grief-stricken eyes on her, still caught in the horror of those horrible days. Elizabeth understood about the pain of losing people you loved. Even though they hadn’t died, when she’d been turned out of foster homes with some people she considered family, she went away and never saw them again. Just like death in a way.

“You have to remember what Hanna did with her life. Not just how she was when she died. That’s just a small part of who she was. Tell me about this room. Who did she have here? What did she do?” Elizabeth said.

James walked to the piano and ran his fingertips over the smooth surface. The paint was so glossy, she could see their reflection. The chandelier hanging above threw glittering strands of twinkling light over the instrument, hitting the sleek surface all over.

“She could make this instrument come alive. Just how she touched the keys…it made the strings inside resonate. No one could make it sound the way she did.”

“That sounds beautiful,” Elizabeth said.

James sat at the seat and lifted the keyboard cover. To Elizabeth, it was like unwrapping a present. He pressed down a key, and the single note reverberated throughout the room. “She loved to play Rachmaninoff. Prelude in C sharp minor. That piece was like magic. I remember, she played one day to my team of builders. Fresh off the building site. Mud everywhere up their legs. She didn’t mind as long as they took off their boots before they came inside. They just stood and listened while she played. They probably hadn’t even heard of Rachmaninoff in their lives. She made one of them cry. Imagine that, a diehard tradie dissolving into tears. I had to give him a beer to cheer him up.” James’ smile was the brightest thing she’d ever seen.

Elizabeth chuckled. “So, how did you manage to catch a musical genius?”

James’ smile widened. “I took my mother to one of her concerts.”

“So, you were interested in music as well?”

“Let’s just say I had yet to learn the finer points of music before I met her. My mum knew her musicians. She’d heard of Hanna, this young, brilliant, up and coming pianist, and wanted to see her. Hanna was gaining national recognition by then. Mum bought two tickets, and Dad wasn’t there that night to go, so she took the next best thing. Me. It was the best thing she ever made me do,” James said.

“It’s nice that you went with your mum. I’d always imagined doing things like that if I’d known my mum,” Elizabeth said.

“I wasn’t that altruistic, trust me. I only went when she told me she wouldn’t do my washing for a year if I didn’t,” James said.

“I like the sound of your mother.” Elizabeth chuckled.

Moments stretched. “She misses Hanna too. I guess it’s why I’ve kept this room unchanged like this. It’s my link to her,” James said.

“But you have Madeline. She’s the biggest reminder. I think she looks like her. From the photo in Madeline’s room,” Elizabeth said.

“Do you think so?” James asked.

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