Chapter 5
“Calm down, will you, Shawna?”
Shawna tried not to snap at Layla.
“I am calm. I am perfectly calm.”
“You’re picking at your cuticles,” pointed out Layla.
“Well, that’s the point of them being my cuticles,” pointed out Shawna, trying to be reasonable about it. “I can pick them. Won’t hurt anybody else.”
Layla deliberately took her sister’s hands in hers and squeezed them gently.
“You’ll be fine. I promise you that. You already know Ryan. You know how to handle him. Ryan obviously wants to do this with you. You inspired a little boy to learn the violin, Shawna. That’s awesome, isn’t it?”
Shawna looked at her sister’s beautiful face, so full of hope and optimism, and she had to let herself relax, though not completely, and smile.
Anything – she would do anything for Layla.
“You’re right. I’m just…”
Layla grinned.
“Oh, it’s nothing you haven’t done before. So what if you’re going to teach somebody very rich? You’ve already been teaching rich children, so it isn’t that much of a stretch, is it? There’s no reason to be nervous.”
There wasn’t.
Except, Layla didn’t know what Elijah Rogers was like.
But what he was like had nothing to do with Shawna. She wouldn’t even see him, in all probability. She’d be one of the help, more or less.
“You’re right, of course. I’m just… being silly, that’s all. Now, have dinner, and go to bed early.”
Layla looked surprised.
“I thought you’d be done by seven.”
“If that’s Ryan’s bedtime, maybe it should be yours, too,” teased Shawna, skillfully drawing the attention away from herself and onto her little sister.
Shawna got a cab, wishing she didn’t have to. It was the kind of extravagance that she wasn’t used to. But the fortress – she couldn’t seem to think of it as anything else – wasn’t exactly on a bus route from where she lived.
At least the pay was generous enough to make up for it.
It was just as forbidding as the first time. Well, almost – she recognized Mr. Smith’s voice over the intercom this time, and she heard the smile in it.
“Mr. Ryan is up in his room, Ms. Woods. I’ll show you up.”
“Mr. Smith, I do hope, one day, you will call me Shawna. But I shall still call you Mr. Smith. Has Ryan had his dinner? I’m not sure how things work here, but if I’m disrupting his schedule, I could change things around.”
The elderly man shook his head.
“He’ll have his dinner and sleep after you’re done. The music might help him sleep better, the poor child. Miss Elizabeth, his nanny, has her evening off today.”
Shawna frowned.
“It’s the weekend. Surely his father…”
The man looked like he wanted to get chatty, but wasn’t sure enough of her just yet. He just showed her up the stairs, to Ryan’s room.
Shawna walked in, telling herself she was relieved and not disappointed that there was no sign of his father.
“Miss Woods, you came!”
He looked dazzled, sitting there in his chair, his violin case on his lap as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to open it and touch the wood and strings inside.
“Of course I did. Every Sunday, from now on, Ryan. Is that your violin? May I see it?”
Eyes round and wide, he stretched it out to her, as if offering her his trust and his hopes.
Shawna opened the case with proper reverence and ran her fingertips over it.
Expensive, but also sturdy and beautiful, an excellent violin to start with.
“Can I play it, just a little?”
Ryan nodded gravely.
Shawna raised it, held it between her shoulder and her chin, raised the bow, and stroked, gently.
“It needs a little tuning,” she told him, and turned, fiddled until it was right, and finally smiled.
“Would you like me to play something first?”
Ryan smiled – he really was beautiful, thought Shawna, his mother must have been a beauty, and wondered why thinking of his mother made her feel just a little uneasy – and nodded.
“Well then, here we go.”
Greensleeves.
It was the first thing that she had heard from Mr. Yates, and he had done so many variations of them that she had fallen in love with it.
And with the violin itself.
So, her heart clutching just a bit, she played, the simplest version of it, that could be the first tune that Ryan could learn.
He listened, rapt, and she could see his eyes so keen on her fingers, and his fingers moving along without thinking, his chin tilting just right to keep up with her.
Oh, he was going to be such a joy to teach!
“Wow, Miss Woods,” said the little boy when Shawna was done.
Shawna smiled.
“You’ll soon learn that and more. For now, let’s try a few basics, shall we? We’ll do a revision of notes, and then we’ll see what we can do after that. Maybe we could learn a little bit of it. It’s a folk song, called Greensleeves – and it’s very popular, it has so many versions, and they’re all beautiful. We can even do a version by plucking.”
Ryan looked as if he’d been told that Santa was coming twice a year.
“Plucking?”
Shawna nodded.
“Can you do that?”
Shawna hesitated, just for a second.
It had been a long time, and it wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Ryan would definitely not be able to do it for a while yet.
And still…
“I can. Would you like to see?”
Ryan nodded, nearly breathless with the thrill of it.
Taking a deep breath, Shawna recalled the music into her mind, and she played it again, this time without using the bow.
Ryan sighed when she was done as if he’d been given a new dream.
“I want to do that, too.”
Shawna nodded.
“And you will. For now, let’s do the notes. We need to learn to make the bricks before we can make the house, don’t we?”
Ryan considered that in that thoughtful way of his and nodded.
Shawna was soon busy, helping his little fingers find the right spots, helping him hold the bow right, and she found herself lost in the joy of helping a talented young child discover the joy of music.
Because he could feel the joy, and the sense of accomplishment that came when he got his scales right made her heart fill.
There was a knock on the door, startling them both.
“Oh, it’s already seven! Well, time flew, didn’t it?”
Ryan nodded.
“Thank you, Miss Woods! I’ll practice every day,” he vowed.
Shawna smiled.
“Practice as long as you have fun. Stop when it becomes a chore. All right?”
Ryan hesitated.
“Daddy said I should practice every day.”
Shawna wanted to smack the man.
“Yes, handle the violin every day, because it needs care and affection, but you shouldn’t feel like you have to. You’ll feel it call to you, and then you can answer the call.”
Ryan seemed to think about that before he nodded.
“Thank you, Miss Wood. It’s lovely. You’re lovely.”
Shawna had to resist the urge to grab the child and hug him.
Inappropriate, she reminded herself, as she got her things together and opened the door, to leave.
“See you in class, Miss Woods?”
He sounded hesitant.
“Of course, Ryan. See you tomorrow, in class.”
Shawna stepped outside and saw Mr. Smith waiting for her.
“Mr. Rogers would like a word with you. In his office, if you’ll follow me.”
Feeling, again, as if she’d slid back in time by about a century or so – the lights that brightened the hallways seemed out of place, really, as if the place should be lighted by lanterns flickering in a draft – she followed, and reached the part of the house that was obviously the most modern.
Or at least, the most overtly modern.
Feeling a little disoriented by the change, she knocked.
“Come in.”
She walked in, and found Elijah Rogers sitting at a sleek, modern desk, a tablet and a laptop in front of him, wearing glasses that made her stomach lurch just a little.
Damn, he looked just a little vulnerable in glasses, as if he was admitting a flaw, no matter how faint, and it made him even sexier.
Where had that come from?
She wasn’t supposed to think of him as sexy.
She didn’t think he was sexy.
Then he rose, and she had to swallow, hard.
Why was she suddenly so aware of how tall he was, how broad his shoulders were, how slim his hips were?
“Ms. Woods?”
She’d been caught staring!
Hastily, she yanked her gaze to his face and tried not to look too embarrassed.
“You’re obviously busy. I don’t want to interrupt you.”
“I’d like to know how the lesson went. Please, have a seat.”
She was tempted to make a crack about checking his emails, but she didn’t.
“I think it went well. Ryan loves the violin, and it’s an excellent piece. He has a feel for music, and his fingers seem to know how to make music. We went through a few basic scales and he did very well with them.”
She was about to go on when, to her mortification, there was a huge growl, from her stomach.
He looked startled.
“Is it time for your dinner, too, Ms. Woods?”
Shawna sighed.
“I didn’t have time for lunch today. I should go home, Mr. Rogers.”
“Stay, for dinner.”
Shawna looked up, surprised.
“Oh… Oh, that’s kind of you, but…”
“Do you have a boyfriend to go home to?”
Shawna shook her head.
“I live with my sister.”
“Does she require you to go home and have dinner with her?”
Shawna hesitated.
Layla wouldn’t mind.
And it would take a good half an hour before she got home, and boy, she really was hungry.
She could eat a horse.
“No… No, she doesn’t.”
He sat back as if it had been settled.
“Then you’ll have dinner here. Do you have any dietary restrictions?”
She shook her head.
“Then I'll let Smith know, and you’ll join me, unless you can think of an objection that has so far escaped you?”
He was poking fun at himself.
The realization made Shawna loosen up and smile.
“Not yet. I’ll let you know if I think of something that trumps hunger.”
He grinned at her, and Shawna was, frankly, shocked.
So the man could smile.
Who would’ve thought it!
She looked around as he walked to an intercom – there was apparently an intercom system in the house, too – and relayed instructions.
The room was surprisingly cozy for something so sleek. There were books, for one thing, and a fireplace that looked like it might actually be functional.
But there was something so impersonal about the place.
Photographs, she realized – there were no photographs, and there were no personal knickknacks around. Everything was perfectly designed, and perfectly comfortable.
But there was nothing there that would give you a hint of what the man was really like.
“You look like you don’t approve.”
Shawna turned around and shrugged.
“I was just thinking that your office would look very efficient in an interior designing magazine of some sort.”
He winced.
“You sound so disapproving of it. What if I tell you that it has already been featured in one?”
Shawna chuckled.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. But I was thinking that it could be photographed just as it is. There’s no… No tidying up necessary. No need to shove anything out of sight.”
“I don’t keep my secrets lying around, Ms. Woods.”
She hesitated, just for a second.
“Do you have many? Secrets?”
He turned away, without answering, and walked to what she realized was a hidden bar.
“What would you like to drink? I usually eat here. There’s a little… alcove, I guess. If you’d be comfortable…”
There was something sad about a man who had a home as big as this and chose to live in that home office.
She was sure there must be perfectly designed bedrooms, many of them, in the place.
“That’s fine with me. I’ll just have wine, if that’s okay.”
He nodded, and didn’t ask her to elaborate, for which she was grateful.
Shawna walked to the artfully hidden section of the rooms – she hadn’t even realized that the open-plan office included a bar, and what looked like a cozy enough little alcove with comfortable chairs and a table, and a window that offered a view that made her feel like they were far away from the city.
“This is lovely,” she said, with a smile.
“Thank you. I spend more time here than you would approve of, I think, Ms. Woods.”
“It seems silly to keep calling me that. Call me Shawna, please.”
There was hesitation – she could feel it – before he nodded.
“And I’m Elijah.”
“Well, then. Thank you, Elijah. Your home is a bit scary.”
She hadn’t meant to say that last bit out loud.
“Do you think so? Do you feel like you walked into a dragon’s lair?”
“Nothing so dramatic,” demurred Shawna.
“No, tell me. Why do you think it’s scary?”
Shawna smiled, suddenly feeling at ease.
He was just a man.
And he was, for whatever reason, making an effort to seem human.
She could enjoy that.
“It’s built like a fortress. I expect footmen and soldiers in armor, or at least suits of armor, all over the place. It’s not like a summer palace – it’s like an actual fortress, where you plot war and withstand sieges. I mean, I half expected a moat.”
Elijah laughed, and Shawna found herself delighted that she’d made him laugh.
He didn’t seem like a man who laughed very often, a thought that seemed very sobering to Shawna.
“We don’t have a moat, but we do have a garden that is the pride and joy of our gardener, Jenks, who is an old retainer. The house was built about a century ago, by my great-grandfather. He liked the idea of having a castle. I think he felt like he was under siege quite a bit. The parlors and dining room, and the kitchen, were my great-grandmother’s. I believe that would be the summer palace you’re looking for. I used to spend a lot of time there as a boy.”
Elijah looked shocked with himself as they were served food – extremely delicious pasta and salad – and he refilled their wine glasses.
“I don’t usually talk about them.”
Shawna smiled.
“I don’t remember by great-grandparents, but my grandfather is the one I have to thank for my music. He had this old violin. I still have it. I used to be fascinated by it, and my grandfather showed me how to play. He soon decided that I needed to learn from somebody better than he was. I couldn’t believe that – that anybody could possibly be better than he was. He was my hero, in almost every way. Layla – that’s my sister – she didn’t get real memories with him. I have memories of Layla with him, but he died when Layla was two. You don’t retain too many memories from then.”
Elijah smiled as he shook his head.
“I suppose you don’t. I do remember my great-grandfather, though not my great-grandmother. Children’s memories are vivid, but strange. I remember things that seem so inconsequential. But they matter to me.”
The last words were said so softly, almost to himself.
He looked so sad.
Shawna was struck by her need to make him smile, to make him laugh again.
“Do you know, one of my first memories is my grandmother negotiating with a mugger?”
It did what she meant it to. It made him look at her with interest, and without that sadness in those gray eyes that, she realized, had lashes so thick and dark that a woman might have envied them.
“How do you negotiate with a mugger?”
“Well, we’d just gone to the market, and we had everything we needed for Sunday roast in the shopping bag. But she’d put the baking soda she needed for muffins in her bag. It was a small bag, and she hadn’t wanted to risk it getting punctured and leaking all over the place. Anyway, this kid – I guess he was just a kid, though he seemed like a giant to me – stopped us, and demanded that my grandmother hand over the bag. She considered it, with a steady look on her face, and said she would give him five dollars to just go away, or she would wallop him with her shopping bag, which has a five-pound bird in it, and it would hurt.”
Shawna grinned as she thought of it. She should’ve been scared, of course, but she hadn’t been. Everything was always all right when grandmamma was there.
“And what happened?”
“I think it was a situation for which the mugger had not prepared, and it flummoxed him a bit. My grandmother very calmly opened her bag, got out five dollars, which was quite a bit of money about twenty-two years ago, and a little hard candy that she kept in her bag. Then she told him to have that, run along, and be sure to buy something nice for his mother with it, or even better, give it to his mother so that she could make him a Sunday roast, too.”
“And he didn’t pull a knife on you?”
Shawna shrugged.
“It would’ve ruined his reputation if he’d pulled a knife on a little old lady and a little girl, I would guess. I bet his mates were watching, anyway. So we just walked along, with me gripping her hand so tight, and this mugger just stood there, a cap pulled low over his face, holding a crumbled five-dollar bill, and a little wrapped piece of candy that my grandmother had made, herself.”
“Sounds like she was quite a woman,” commented Elijah.
“Oh, she was. She could be fierce, too. But she had so much love inside her. I think she saw a child instead of a dangerous mugger. My grandfather, though… He was so mad when we got home and I told him the whole story.”
“I imagine he was.”
Shawna chuckled.
“But what can you say to a woman who could offer a mugger a piece of candy and five bucks? Gramps knew there was no point trying to tell my grandmamma to be more sensible, so he just went down the street and got her a bunch of flowers. He came home, gave her flowers, and they were just so happy together.”
Shawna wound down, more than a little surprised with herself.
She hadn’t meant to tell him that much. She’d just meant to tell him about the mugger, and tease a smile from him.
She didn’t tell people about the rest of it.
Thankfully, dessert meant that she didn’t have to come up with a way to break what was threatening to be an awkward silence.
Shawna considered using it to segue into talking about Ryan, but somehow, it didn’t feel like a good idea. She had, before that evening, only spoken to Elijah about Ryan. Perhaps talking about Ryan was what made him seem so intimidating and unfeeling.
Now that they were just having a conversation, he seemed like a real, warm, person.
Who also happened to be, she could admit to herself now, loosened up thanks to excellent wine and even better food, possibly the hottest and handsomest man she had ever seen in her life.
“Tell me about Layla.”
Shawna looked up at him, surprised at how he remembered Layla’s name. But then, she realized that she shouldn’t be. He wasn’t a man who forgot anything.
Especially if he’d been wronged.
Shawna shook her head to get rid of that thought, smiled, and launched into a tale about Layla and her dancing, and her attempts to follow recipes from their grandmother’s recipe book.
And she was delighted when her attempts were rewarded with smiles, and laughter, and more warmth than she’d known he was capable of.
Finally, regretfully, she checked her watch and sighed.
“I need to get back home. Layla must be worried. I should’ve called her, really, I didn’t think it would be this late.”
It was like shutters had been pulled down over his eyes.
All the warmth was masked, and he was, once again, the man she had met the first time.
“Of course. I’ll have a car brought around to take you home.”
Shawna shook her head.
“I can get a cab.”
“I insist, Shawna. And next Sunday, I’ll have a car pick you up, as well. I have your address on record. And… Thank you.”
With that, all traces of dinner was cleared away, along with the camaraderie they had unexpectedly shared, and she was ushered out by Mr. Smith, into a car, and driven away.
Shawna looked back, and this time, she wasn’t sure if he was watching her leave.
She wasn’t sure about anything much at all.
What, exactly, had been all that?