Page 8 of Rocked: The Price of Dreams

“Yeah.” A soft, tired voice drifted along the hallway. “In the living room.”

Kyle led Hunter and me toward the open-plan kitchen and living room. Dark brown cupboards and a high counter split the area in two.

Emily lay stretched out on the old brown sofa by the recliner. She was covered in a fluffy quilt, and her little gray face lit up at the sight of Kyle.

“Hey Em.” He dumped his schoolbag on a dining table chair, rushed over, and kissed Emily’s tiny bald head. Her cheeks were sunken, dark circles surrounded her eyes, and her hands and arms were as thin as twigs. But she had the most beautiful smile. Kyle waved me forward. “I’d like you to meet Gemma.”

“Hi Emily.” I took a tentative step toward her. “Nice to meet you.”

“Finally.” Emily reached for my hand. Her touch was cold, weak, and fragile. “Kyle hasn’t stopped raving about you since the start of school.”

“I have not.” He chuckled.

“Have so.” A cheeky grin quivered Emily’s pale thin lips.

I giggled, loving that she bantered with her brother. “He’s been very nice, teaching me to play better.”

Emily’s energy levels plummeted. “He’s an awesome teacher.”

“You wanna come downstairs and watch?” He squeezed her hand. “I could carry you.”

“Not today.” Her eyes fluttered closed. “I’m too tired.”

“I’m gonna make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for everyone.” Hunter headed toward the kitchen, looking for food. “Want me to get you anything, Em?”

“No thanks.” Her voice softened and drifted. “I’ll just rest.”

Kyle kissed Emily on the forehead and drew her blankets higher. “Okay. I’ll make dinner after we play. Your favorite, right? Chicken pasta.”

But Emily had already drifted off to sleep.

Tears stung the back of my eyes. “She’s so sweet.”

“Yeah. Every day with her is a blessing.” He smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Before she wakes demanding food, let’s grab a snack and play. But first, I wanna show you something.”

I followed Kyle back down the hall. He slid open the double doors on the left.

I must have died and gone to heaven.

I gaped as I floated into the music room. Guitars of all kinds lined the rack on the side wall. Brass and wind instruments filled the shelves beneath them. A baby grand piano occupied the far corner. Tall bookcases loaded with records, CDs, and music books towered near the entrance. Several microphones, and vinyl chairs stood next to a desk covered in paperwork and a computer. A comfy green sofa filled the space beneath the window.

“It’s awesome, isn’t it?” Kyle nudged my arm. “This is mom’s office. My drums and guitars are in the basement.”

My mouth moved, but I struggled to find words. “Wow.” I stepped over to glance at the framed photos on the wall—a young lady singing on a stage in a musical, the same woman in an opera, and another image of her playing piano in an orchestra. I pointed to them. “Is that your mom?”

“Yeah.” Sadness loomed in the depths of his eyes. “She only performed for a year after she graduated.”

“Why doesn’t she still do shows?”

He stared at the photo of her playing piano. “Dad didn’t want her to. After I was born and he finished training, they wanted to leave Seattle and live on the East Coast. He got stationed here and insisted she stayed at home with me and Em.”

My chest ached. I couldn’t imagine giving up music to raise a family. Teaching wasn’t the same as performing. Not that I had any experience yet. “Will she go back to it?”

“I wish.” Kyle grunted. “Dad won’t let her. Not with Em being sick.”

I grimaced. “Won’t let her?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “He barely tolerates Mom teaching. He hates music. That’s why we can only play when he’s not around. Other than that, he’s a great dad.”

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