Page 62 of Landing Love

“Nonsense. You did all the cooking. The least I can do is clean up. Go sit down and relax.”

Bill wasn’t like other men, she supposed, and he was adorable at the sink with his sleeves rolled up, even if she had to clench her fists to stop herself from taking over. As he worked, he hummed a tune she knew from the radio, and she began to sing along, harmonizing. Anything to break the lingering tension.

“Too bad I lost my piano,” she said as he finished. “Then we could do this properly.”

“As soon as we move, I promise I’ll buy you one.” He ambled over and wrapped her in a loose embrace. “In the meantime, there’s always the piano at my parents’ house if you feel the urge.”

He was trying so hard to please her that she had to smile. “Yesterday, Adelaide showed me her piano skills, and I helped her practice.”

“I’d love to hear you play. Would you like to go over there right now?”

Had she truly never played for him? How was that possible? The thought of sitting at the piano with him by her side made her heart soar. But it was late, and the last thing she wanted was to impose on Mr. and Mrs. O’Donnell. “Wouldn’t we be disturbing them?”

“Not at all. I’m sure they would be delighted to see us.”

His eager grin was so irresistible that she gave in, and the three of them headed over to Main Street in the deepening dusk. As promised, the O’Donnells welcomed their impromptu visit, attempting to convince them to sit down to a second dinner.

“Thank you, Mrs. O’Donnell, but I don’t think I could eat another thing. We were just wondering if we could use your piano for a bit.”

“Of course, dearie,” said Mrs. O’Donnell. “Do you mind if we come down and listen too?”

“Of course not. I’d be happy to play for you.” Ann hadn’t anticipated giving an impromptu concert, but she’d do anything for the O’Donnells after all they’d done for her.

Soon the entire family trundled downstairs to the parlor. Ann sat at the upright piano and started playing a Chopin waltz she loved. As she settled in, the music flowed from her fingers and took her away to another world. She lost herself in it. With music, she could let go of all her cares and let the beauty transport her.

When she finished, the family sat silently. Did they like it? She hoped they liked it. At last, Bill came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “That’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Putting a hand over his, she said, “Thank you,” and looked up adoringly. It was difficult to believe she’d never played for him before, but when had she ever had the chance?

She gave him a smile and a wink and started the chords for “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows.” They started off together, their voices blending in perfect complement. She switched to singing harmony, and he held his own beautifully on the melody.

Singing with Bill made her heart swell. As their voices entwined, she couldn’t remember why she’d ever been upset with him. This moment was too perfect and precious to spoil with negative thoughts, so she lost herself in the joy of it. When they finished, the whole family burst into applause.

“You have such a lovely voice, Ann, and so talented on the piano too! Our Bill is a lucky man.” Mrs. O’Donnell beamed at the two of them and squeezed her husband’s hand, making him smile fondly at her.

Ann played a few popular songs they could all sing along to after that. It brought back memories. She and Roger used to sing with her mother like this when they visited. Of course, his parents were always too stuck up for such things. It was such a pleasure to enjoy the company of her in-laws like this.

When she and Bill finally took their leave, she was exhausted and very ready to curl up with her husband. It had been a lovely evening, and she didn’t want it to end. But they had to get Junior home, and she could barely keep her eyes open. It had been foolish to worry so much about Bill. He obviously adored her, and with so much proof of his good will and affection, the last of her walls were crumbling. He was a man she could trust, a man she could love. As she strolled through the evening on his arm, she couldn’t help feeling that against all odds, her heart had found a new home. She was in love again, vulnerable as that felt.

When they got home, she changed into her nightgown, fed Junior, and read aloud again from “The Count of Monte Cristo” with Bill’s head in her lap. He looked so perfectly content like that, especially when she ran her fingers through his hair. When she couldn’t stop yawning to read the words, he took the book from her hands and turned out the lights, snuggling into bed next to her.

He was a perfect gentleman, somewhat to her disappointment. She’d been looking forward to his return and all that came with it, but he seemed too tired for anything. Perhaps it was just as well, given how tired she was herself. She curled against him and fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, when she woke to feed Junior, he wrapped his arms around her waist but otherwise left her alone. Was something amiss? It seemed surprising he wasn’t interested in intimacy after several days away.

In the morning, he slept late, unable to rouse himself at his usual hour. Ann got up and quietly went about making breakfast and tidying. She took his bag with the clothes from his trip, intending to add them to the laundry pile, when she noticed something odd. There was a red smudge on the collar of one of his shirts. On closer inspection, it appeared to be lipstick.

Her heart lurched. Was he deceiving her? Were his friends telling the truth after all? Could Mary have been mistaken? And here she’d just started trusting him. She let herself fall like an idiot, but here was proof that he wasn’t the man he pretended to be. For someone she’d just allowed inside her battered heart, he sure could break it. After all she’d been through, she didn’t think she could suffer anything worse than the losses she’d endured, but the thought of Bill betraying her absolutely destroyed her.

Blinking through tears of rage, she shook him awake roughly. “Can you explain why you have lipstick on the collar of your shirt?”

He squinted at her, bleary eyed. “Why does my head ache so much? I didn’t drink last night.”

“I don’t care about your headache,” she yelled at him, hoping it made his head hurt worse. He deserved to hurt for betraying her like this. “I want an explanation for the lipstick on your collar.”

She was trembling as she handed him the offending shirt. This was her worst nightmare, a dishonest, unfaithful husband who didn’t even trouble to hide the evidence of his affairs. How could he do this to her?

He sat up and swayed, gripping his head. “I really don’t feel good,” he said, trying to focus on the shirt. How dare he plead illness at a moment like this! He looked at the red spot, then leaned back and closed his eyes. “I can explain,” he croaked.