Living Out Loud (Austen, #3)(23)

“They say there’s only one way to find out,” he suggested with his lips turned up in a quiet smile. “If you’d be willing to try, I’d be willing to help. No strings; if you’re overwhelmed or unhappy, you can go without any hard feelings. What do you say?”

She brightened and blushed all at once. “I…I’d like that very much.”

At her answer, his smile opened up. “Monday morning then, at eight.”

She nodded, smiling back. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he said with a slight bow, stepping away when his mother called his name, motioning for him to come sit by her.

When Elle glanced at me, we both nearly broke out into a fit of giggles, our hands squeezing together once before I split off to head to the piano.

“What would y’all like to hear?” I asked as I sat.

Meg opened her mouth, but Elle whispered in her ear. Meg closed it again, looking none too pleased with having to keep quiet.

“Play something from Songs Without Words,” Mama said, her expression and tone encouraging.

I smiled at her. “I know just the thing, if it pleases y’all.”

Everyone nodded, except Fanny—hateful bitch that she was. But I couldn’t be bothered with her, not when I began to play Opus 19, No. 1. My right hand danced across the keys as my left played the slow melody, the gentle wave of the music rising and falling, the motion swaying my heart, swaying my body gently. I felt the music with an unfathomable depth, in a language I couldn’t verbalize, couldn’t translate in any way other than through my fingers on the keys.

And when my fingers stilled and I turned to look at the people in the chairs at my side, I found some level of their understanding on their faces, even Fanny, who looked almost soft. Mama’s cheeks were shining with tears, and Meg was tucked into Elle’s side, their faces rapt. Aunt Susan’s arm was hooked in her husband’s, their fingers wound together, tears clinging to the edge of her lids.

“Should I play a little Billy Joel to lighten the mood?” I joked through my own tight chest.

A chuckle rolled through them.

“How about this?” I asked and launched into another Mendelssohn, a bouncing, lilting piece that seemed to lift everyone’s spirits. After that was Beethoven and a little Chopin.

And then I was ready for cake, which everyone else had already eaten.

When I stood, they rose with me, speaking at once.

Uncle John looked at me like his gears were turning in his brain but said nothing more than, “Congratulations,” did nothing more than smile and offer me a hug.

The hubbub died down, and when Mama mentioned she was tired, she and I excused ourselves, our evening was blissfully over.

We said goodnight to the Ferrars, leaving them with Susan and John for after dinner drinks.

Mama’s silent room felt like a sanctuary.

“Are you all right?” I asked after a moment as I slipped her nightgown over her head.

She sighed, threading her arms through the openings. “Yes, I’m all right.”

“That woman is horrible. I can’t believe Susan tolerates being in the same room as her, never mind inviting her into her home.”

“He’s John’s oldest friend, and they came up together, worked together all these years.”

“Did you know him?” I asked tentatively. “Before?”

She nodded, reaching for me when I bent to lift her. “Yes, we were all friends. Susan, too.”

I paused, considering my question. “Why didn’t you take John’s help? When your parents disinherited you, why didn’t you accept his offer?”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. I hoisted her up to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for her legs, the limp, useless things like exclamation points on her losses.

“It was easier to disappear, to lose myself in my life with your daddy in Texas, to pretend like everything before didn’t exist. Looking back only hurt me, and we didn’t need money. We had the store; Daddy had his workshop. We had you girls. We had each other.” The words trailed off, rough and pained. “It was just easier to cut ties than live half in two worlds. I chose one world—his world.”

My hands trembled as I pulled up her covers, my heart thumping and aching and sore. “But John could have helped. My medical bills, college for Elle, piano lessons, the mortgage. You and Daddy worked so hard just to make ends meet. It could have been easier.”

“We were happy, and we did just fine on our own. But the truth is that it wasn’t just my pride that kept me from taking the money. If I’d taken a penny from John, our parents would have punished him for the betrayal. We were still young, John still new in the company. They would have taken it all away, stripped him down and turned him out. Our parents…they’re rigid and proud, and they never go back on their word. It’s not in their nature. Fanny is right; we really are very lucky to have John and Susan. I only wish we hadn’t needed them like we do.”

I laid my hand on hers. “It’s gonna be okay, Mama.”

“I want to believe that, baby. I do. I just don’t know how to convince myself it’s true.” She pulled in a long breath and let it out in a sigh. “So I try to remember that you girls have chances here you never would have had back home. Especially you.” She clutched my fingers and looked into my eyes. “Life is full of contradictions. I want you to be happy, but I want you to be safe, too. I want you to be self-sufficient, but thinking of you on your own scares me. You see? It’s not simple. Life never is, even if it looks simple from the top down.”