Page 21 of Singing For His Kiss

“Guilt?”

“If I had to leave you here.”

She didn’t want him to leave her here either, but it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know the extent of her background. He held his palm in a stop gesture when she opened her mouth. “I know you can take care of yourself, but sometimes there are times when you need to accept an offer of help. This is one of those times, Elizabeth. Where else are you going to go?”

She chewed her lip. There were a million and one reasons not to take James up on his offer, but the reality of the situation was, she had nowhere to stay. The rain pelted down heavier than before, if that was possible, and it didn’t look as though it was going to let up anytime soon. It was absolutely freezing, and she was sure to end up sick if she didn’t have any shelter.

Besides, if she was stuck inside town, David wouldn’t be able to get in to track her down. This could be a blessing in disguise, at least for a few days until the roads were cleared.

This was a reprieve. A gift. She could relax. Regroup. She could make arrangements, maybe find a rental in Melbourne on the Internet. She’d have time to be safe. The thought sounded so good, it almost made her mouth water. Maybe fate was smiling down on her for once.

“Okay. I’ll accept your offer. But just until the road is opened. Then I have to go,” she said. No use promising more than she could give.

As she took his hand in hers, a smile spread on his face and his dimple appeared. A delicate swirl tingled in her belly, and she wondered what in the hell she’d gone and agreed to. In the end, it didn’t matter what she’d accepted. The truth was, she would leave. She just hoped she wasn’t going to get so attached to James and Madeline that, when the time came, she still could.

* * *

The bed was made, her clothes washed and dried and folded neatly at the end. Maria must have put them there. In her haste to leave, she’d completely forgotten about them. The one positive thing about coming back was that she now had more clothes than just the ones on her back.

She plonked her tattered backpack next to the bed and sighed. She was struck again by the luxury of the room. Everything was impeccable. The only worn and threadbare thing in the room was her.

She could barely believe she was back here. It had taken courage to leave, and now she’d have to gather a fresh lot when the time came to leave again. And leave she would, even though she wouldn’t want to. She’d just have to protect herself. Because spending time with Madeline and James was going to test her heart. She knew that already.

“Liz’beth?” Madeline came into the room, teddy bear embraced against her chest.

“Hey, sweetie!”

“Want to see my doll house?” The little girl’s thumb went to her mouth. She looked so unsure, so adorable that Elizabeth couldn’t help sinking onto her knees and hugging the child.

Madeline took her hand and led her into her room. Her mother, James’ wife, smiled down at them from her photo on the wall. Madeline knelt down on the floor in front of her doll house and started telling Elizabeth the dolls' names and what they did in the house.

The toy house was as equally adorable as everything in the room. It had a certain style. Pink, frilly and good quality. Whoever had picked and chosen the furniture and toys in the room showed care and love for the little girl. Elizabeth wondered if it had been James or Maria. Maybe Madeline’s mother before she died?

Elizabeth’s childhood bedrooms were often shared between three of four children, without room for anything other than bunk beds, battered furniture and the bare essentials. She certainly didn’t have anything like the beautiful doll house Madeline played with. Not that she harboured any hostility to the little girl — how could she even think of doing that? — but it just showed how different their lives were.

They were similar in one, sad sense though. Neither of them had a mother.

How on Earth was she going to look after a child as beautiful and gentle as Madeline when she knew nothing about a normal childhood? Music had saved hers.

When it all became too much, she’d listen to the radio. She sang along to the happy songs, letting the tunes take her away into another world. Her happy place. Then, when she lived in those houses that had an instrument, she’d pick it up and play until she worked out how to play her own songs.

One of the nicer foster mums — one of the rare nice ones — had given her a guitar, a spare one left from another foster kid, for her birthday. She’d treasured it until a bully in another home slammed it against a cupboard and smashed it to pieces. But by then she’d gotten hooked. She scraped a few dollars together and found a replacement in an op-shop. When she had a guitar, she had music, and when she had music, she had her happy place.

“Could you play me a song, Liz’beth?”

Maybe she could help Madeline find her own happy place as well.

Elizabeth smiled. “Of course.”

That was no hardship at all, and she was more than happy to comply with Madeline’s request. She sat on the bed and settled the guitar in her lap. She didn’t know any songs suitable for four-year-olds, but the little girl hadn’t complained about the Eminem song last night. Elizabeth settled on an Adele song she’d recently learned and started to play.

“I know this song!” Madeline said, a big smile lighting her face.

Elizabeth let the notes flow through her. The music started to melt the world away, as it normally did. Madeline played, humming along with the tune. There was something nice about the both of them singing together.

Too nice.

Because niceness was a trap.

It would also make leaving that much harder. There was too much temptation here, and like the music, Madeline had already started to melt the ice around her heart. Her father also had the capacity to finish it off until there would be nothing left but a puddle of water beneath her raw, tender heart.

The ice was protection. And she needed as much protection as she could in the limited time she was here. Any more heartache, any more loss, and her heart would shatter.

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