52. Viola
Viola
Another goodbye careened toward us. Always goodbyes.
After the party, Jacob offered his arm, and we climbed the stairs together.
In the hall, he raised my hand to his lips and whispered, “Good night.” But he didn’t meet my eyes.
That was it? After kissing me by the piano?
The man was as bad at goodbyes as I was.
He shuffled away. I watched him vanish into his room. Then I turned and hurried down the dark hall toward my room. The plan that had been percolating in the back of my mind—ever since a burst of clarity midway through my piano performance—would soon require real action.
I needed to take control, to get this kissing business out of my system. Then, I could think clearly in Jacob’s company. Then, I could focus on the only-friends part. The kiss by the piano hadn’t been sufficient to clear my head. And I needed a proper goodbye.
Greta helped me into my nightclothes and brushed out my hair.
I climbed into bed, bid Greta good night, and settled back.
The possible consequences of my bold plan played through my mind.
But so did the benefits. I would not suffer the same regret I had experienced after leaving Harmony Lake—regret born of choking on the lump in my throat instead of saying anything.
Hours passed. The house stood quiet and still. Everyone slept except me. I slipped from bed and tiptoed down the hall, stopping outside Jacob’s door. Now or never. I glanced back toward my room. Could I really do this? Gathering my courage, I pressed the handle and slipped inside.
The door clicked shut. I froze, my back pressed to the wood, my heart pounding loud enough to wake the entire house.
After several shaky breaths, I crept toward the dark shape I knew to be the bed.
I strained for any sign of Jacob in the shadows.
I would wake him, say goodbye, and then go.
I found the edge of the bed with outstretched hands and walked my fingers up over the coverlet. I searched for a foot or a leg.
But the bed was empty.
Where?
“Hello.”
I jumped.
Jacob’s low voice drifted from the chair by the window.
It took every ounce of my control to stifle a shriek. “You scared me half to death,” I said, my hands gripping the bed for support.
“Funny,” he said with a low chuckle. “I’m not the one sneaking into your room.” His voice was closer now.
I shivered. I sensed him approaching, though his footsteps were silent on the soft carpet.
He stopped behind me in the dark, his breath tickling my ear. “Is this a dream?” His fingertips brushed the top of my left shoulder in a gentle, questioning touch.
I should’ve said it was a goodbye, but instead I said, “It’s a good dream.”
His soft laugh buzzed through me. “If I’m dreaming, I can do this…” His hand traced featherlight across the skin of my upper back, sweeping my hair over my right shoulder.
“Dreamy,” I said, acutely aware of the exposed skin at the angle of my neck and shoulder. I tilted my head. Waited. Wanted. Warm breath.
Yes.
Then his burning lips grazed that sensitive angle, and the music between us shifted to a sultry minor key that made me gasp.
I leaned into him, leaned into his mouth on my skin, choosing to fall into the moment rather than utter the words of explanation and goodbye I had rehearsed.
He trailed slow kisses up my neck.
In the darkness before dawn, I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or shut, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but him.
His hands ran down to the curve of my hips before sliding forward over my stomach, drawing me against him.
I forgot to breathe. Closer.
His hands inched ever so slowly upward. Only the thin material of my nightdress separated his touch from my skin.
I didn’t step away. Didn’t stop him.
His hands shook. He stopped. He made a long, low sound. Not quite a groan—something more tormented. He turned me to face him.
Why did he stop?
Desire surged through me, threatening my control, and I sensed the same storm in him. Yet, I trusted him with everything I was and everything I had to lose.
His hands lifted to cup my face. His lips brushed lightly over mine, his breathing ragged, as ragged as my own.
I waited for more, yearned for more.
But instead of pressing his lips firmly against mine, he rested his forehead on the top of my head. His words sounded like a sigh. “Viola, what are you doing here?”
Why was I here?
“I, I…” It was supposed to be simple. A goodbye without regret.
A slow shuddering breath allowed me to gather my wits enough to speak.
“I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye, a real goodbye, but not a forever goodbye.
This is not a forever goodbye. We will see each other again.
I’m sure we will. And we were interrupted. By the piano, and I?—”
Jacob quieted me with his lips, soft against mine.
He paused, sliding a finger along my jaw. I heard the smile in his voice. “You came for a kiss goodbye?”
“Exactly.” Then I wrapped my arms around his neck, wove my fingers into his soft waves, and pulled his lips back down to mine.
Mid-kiss, his lips curled into a smile, and he whispered, “But, my dear—I’m still kissing you hello.”
Joy flared in my chest. In a smoky voice I hardly recognized as my own, I said, “By all means, continue with your greeting.”
We remained lost in that greeting until the faintest hint of light from the window caught on his smile. I drew back, committing every touch, sensation, and detail of the man before me to memory.
“Goodbye, my Jacob, but not forever.”
He pressed my hands to his chest and covered them with his own. He bent for one last lingering kiss.
Releasing my mouth, he said, “Goodbye, my Viola, but not forever.”
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The kissing wasn’t working. It wasn’t getting this love nonsense out of my system. It was sending me into wild chord progressions. I was out of control.
I pulled from his warmth into the chill of dawn and hurried toward the door. I cast a single glance back.
He stood tall, his disheveled hair framing his face, his lips swollen from kissing, his eyes ablaze in the dim light, full of desire and more.
More.
But there was no room for more.
Remember the plan.
But all I wanted to remember was him.
Another dangerous goodbye.
His next hello would undo me.
“You are decided, then?” Father asked from his chair in the library.
Late morning light streamed through the window into what had always felt like the heart of our house. The familiar scent of old leather with a hint of cloves wrapped around me.
This was it.
“Please, Father.” I stared down at my clenched hands. “It’s what I want more than anything.”
“It’s not what I envisioned for you. A life of hard work and uncertainty.”
“But I’m not afraid of hard work. I long for purpose. Long to create something I can be proud of.”
“Viola, the life you want would be easier if you were married.”
“I don’t need?—”
“Easier if you had someone to lean on. Why are you so set against it? George tells me you have sworn off love and marriage. But he didn’t say why.”
The direct question caught me off guard, tightened my throat.
Love.
Father waited, eyebrows raised.
“Love is… uncontrollable.”
His brow furrowed.
I said, “Dangerous and painful. The risks outweigh the rewards.”
His shoulders drooped as if my words landed heavy atop the burden of his grief. I stretched a hand toward him but let it fall to the surface of his desk, hating to invoke his pain to prove my point.
“And marriage without love is servitude. It’s giving control to someone else.” I tucked a loose lock behind my ear and tried to ignore the echo of Jacob’s hand performing the same motion. “So no love, no marriage, not for me.”
His mouth tightened, making him look older somehow.
“You know me. Know I need a plan for everything. I need that control. It makes me feel safe.”
“And this land, this life in the country, this is what you want?”
I lifted my chin. “Yes.”
He blew out a long breath. “I feel better knowing you will at least have Jacob to lean on as a friend. He is a rare sort of man—a man of steady character.” His gaze flicked to Mother’s portrait and then back to me. “I can see he cares for you.”
Jacob’s name confused the rhythm of my pulse. Focus.
“Yes,” he said, face softening. “I believe he cares for you a great deal.”
My skin prickled with awareness where Jacob had touched me, kissed me only hours ago. “Yes… Jacob is a good friend.”
“Did you tell him of your plan?” Father asked.
“No,” I said too quickly. “No, you had not yet given your final approval. It was not a definite thing.” But there were other reasons. I worried he’d misunderstand, see meaning where I intended none. Reasons I refused to look at straight on.
“I will give Mr. Muntz the go-ahead for the purchase.”
For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe.
I jumped up, feeling almost weightless. “Thank you!”
“You might not thank me when you find out how much work is ahead of you.”
I beamed at him.
He shook his head. “You will be busy. I expect you’ll want to travel there, walk the land, and decide on building locations, among other things. You’ll be starting from scratch.”
He leaned forward to clasp my hand over the desk. “I want to go with you. See this magical place for myself.”
“Yes, Father, come with me. You’ll see, and you’ll understand. You’ll love it. I’ll plan everything. A great plan.” I hurried around the desk and flung my arms around him before he had a chance to stand.
He laughed. “Indeed, my dear, I’ve come to expect nothing less than a magnificent plan from you.”
Yes.
A magnificent plan.
But would Jacob approve?