A Convenient Proposal(61)
Well, she’d known for the last two hours this wouldn’t be easy. “Griff—”
He held up a hand. “I’d rather not talk while I’m driving.”
“Too bad,” she told him. “I’m not a child who will be seen and not heard.”
“That’s pretty obvious.”
“Why don’t you just say what you’re thinking?”
“Because I don’t like to use that kind of language in front of females.”
“Don’t hesitate on my account.”
“I’m not. I like to think of myself as a gentleman, that’s all.”
Arden decided then that she didn’t want to talk to him, anyway.
But when she faced him on the cottage porch, planning to suggest they talk later, he shook his head.
“We’re not putting this off any longer. It’s time for the truth.”
They confronted each other again across the living room, both standing behind a chair, both holding onto the back.
“So you’re a violinist,” Griff started. “A major talent, doing concerts all over the world when you were a child. Recording artist. Famous. You’ve eaten dinner and performed at the White House.”
“Once. Ten years ago.” She smiled, but he didn’t.
“Why the big secret? Did you think I was too stupid to appreciate the facts?”
“No!” She pressed her fingers against her lips for a moment. “All of that is in the past, Griff. I retired at Christmas, a year ago. I don’t perform, record or even practice anymore.”
“Why?”
“Can we sit down?”
After a long moment, he dropped into the chair in front of him.
With a sigh, Arden eased into the armchair. Her back muscles had stiffened as she played. By now the stiffness had given birth to cramps. “About two years ago, reviewers of my performances started saying I was off pitch in the upper register. I wasn’t hitting the highest notes exactly in tune.”
He didn’t comment, so she took a deep breath and continued. “I practiced more, tried different violins, took lessons, without results…until the day my teacher said, ‘Hear that? It’s terribly flat.’ I realized I didn’t hear the note at all. Except in my imagination.
“To make a long story short, I went to a specialist who determined I was…am…” She still hated the word. “I’m going deaf.”
Leaning forward, Griff propped his elbows on his knees. “There’s no solution?”
“Not in terms of the music. Hearing aids or cochlear implants can’t restore the kind of acuity I need.” Arden braided her fingers together. “The broken engagement occurred at the same time. I found myself a place to hide—Chaos Key—and I’ve been there ever since.”
She couldn’t tell him the rest. Not until she’d seen the doctor on Monday. She might have miscarried because she was defective. If babies were never going to be possible for her, that was something Griff should know.
“How long will you be able to hear?”
“I’ve lost most bird sounds in this last year, like that traffic chirp you noticed. I can’t hear it at all. Crowds confuse me more than I remembered.” She shrugged. “I probably have a few years of hearing left, perhaps not that long. Or perhaps I’ll only lose a percentage, then stabilize. The doctors don’t know and can’t predict.”
He fell back into the chair. “But why hide who you are? I don’t understand that part.”
She opened her hands in a helpless gesture. “I really didn’t think it mattered. I’m not that person anymore—I don’t perform or record or have anything to do with music. So why bring it up? Besides…” She owed him this much, at least. “Talking about the music would require explaining why I don’t play. I didn’t want to reveal that part.”
“Why would it make a difference? Especially after you found out about Kathy, I would think you’d see it’s not a problem.”
“Kathy’s hearing loss had a cause. Mine could be…genetic. They don’t really know.”
“But what…” Griff frowned at her for a minute. Then his puzzlement cleared. “A baby. You thought…” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You thought I wouldn’t want you to have my child if I knew you were…were going deaf.”