Hearts Unfold (45 page)

“No, I don't even remember
Mark Stevenson.
 
Why?
 
Do you know something?”

“You met Lil that night at the
party.
 
Sal was catering and Lil
recognized you and took you some food.
 
She was just a kid, seventeen, and she was so impressed to see you
there.
 
You gave her your autograph on a
napkin.
 
She has it framed and hanging on
her wall.”

He listened in silence,
carefully following what she was saying.
 
“You're telling me that I met this girl, someone so close to you, that
night?
 
And then the next day I walked all
the way up here to you in the storm?”
 
He
shook his head gently.
 
“How do you
explain such a thing?”

“I can't.
 
But I believe it was all part of the same
miracle.
 
But there's something
else.”
 
His eyes fell away, and he stared
out the window across the yard.
 
“Lil
told me she gave you a sort of benediction, a blessing, when she left you that
night.
 
She didn't understand it herself,
but she knew she'd done something extraordinary.”
 
She watched him closely, knowing what she was
saying might be impossible for him to understand.

Stani dropped his head,
running his hands through his hair.
 
“Emily, how am I supposed to believe that something some stranger said
to me that night kept me from dying in that car?
 
Is that what you believe?”
 
He raised his eyes to hers, pleading.

“It doesn't matter what I
believe.
 
It happened.
 
When I found out, months later, I had trouble
understanding too.
 
The moment I first
saw that napkin with your signature, I thought I'd lost my mind.
 
There was Lil, rattling off the story of how
she'd met you and talked with you that night.
 
She had no idea what had happened here the next day.”

“And you told her?”

Emily had a vision of herself,
racing from the house, sobbing at Angela's kitchen table.
 
She smiled.
 
“Not exactly.
 
But eventually, we
talked.
 
And she told me what she'd said
to you.
 
It made me feel better
somehow.
 
It was another sign that God
had been watching over you.”

Stani sat for a time, staring
toward the edge of the yard where the hill dropped away, where he knew he had
fallen in the snow.
 
He closed his eyes,
finally, as if to block the sight, to focus on something within.
 
“Benedictions, blessings, signs,
miracles.”
 
He spoke each word as if
tasting it.
 
“How do I fit those things
into the life I'd been living?
 
Why
should this God you seem to know so well have been interested in me?
 
Oh, I don't deny that he exists.
 
I've felt a presence at times, a kind of
peace, that I could call God.
 
But to
believe that he was there at that party, in that car, that he chose you, and
even Lil, to protect me?
 
That's asking
me to accept that something I barely acknowledged the existence of actually
cared enough about me to spare me, while two other people died.
 
How am I supposed to do that?”
 
She waited, knowing he would have to come to
the answer alone.
 
Finally, he turned to
her, his eyes still dark, but filled with what could only be wonder, as if a
window had suddenly opened for him.
 
“Is
that the mystery, the thing that only what you call faith can accept?”
 
She smiled encouragingly.
 
“You said you believe I lived because there's
more I'm supposed to do with my life.
 
How do I find out what that is?”

“But you’ve already found
something, what you're doing on this tour, giving of yourself.
 
There'll be more, as you go on, and there’ll
be signs pointing the way.
 
There are
always signs if we're watching for them.
 
The week I came home trying to find some way back to my life, I knew it
would take a miracle.
 
Then in just a
matter of hours there seemed to be this shower of signs, all pointing to what I
wanted most, to come home again.
 
Right
behind that was the miracle of you, walking for hours toward a light I had only
turned on for a minute.
 
You, surviving
that awful night, going back to what you had been.
 
When I saw the pictures of your recovery in
that magazine, can you imagine how proud I was for you?
 
I had seen the miracle first hand, and the
whole world confirmed it.”

“And yet it didn't feel that
way to me.
 
All the pain, working to get
back the one thing I needed most, trying to justify my survival.
 
I felt guilty just for being alive.”
 
He reached for her hand.
 
“You let me go too soon.”

“It wasn't as if I could have
followed you home.”

He smiled at the idea of her
by his side in the world he'd returned to.
 
“No, but it might have turned out very differently with you there to
tell me these things sooner.
 
'Signs and
miracles' were not part of my recovery.
 
I told you, I was terrified that I might never play again.
 
It was all up to me to get back to where I'd
been before, or lose everything.
 
How can
I ever explain to you the darkness, the loneliness?
 
If you had been there, and not only in my
dreams, at least there would have been some light, some comfort.”

“But you made it, Stani, on
your own.
 
That was the journey you had
to make.
 
I know from experience, the
journey is where we learn to rely on our faith, because we find ourselves
unable to make it alone.”

“You know so much more about
these things than I do.
 
I'm afraid
religion is something that was totally lacking in our lives.
 
Milo is Jewish and Jana is Catholic, but
neither one practices or even talks about their faith.
 
At least not to me.
 
I remember going to Christmas Eve services
with Jana a few times.
 
I was so impressed
with the beauty of the candlelight and the music.
 
But that was all.
 
When I began performing, I found I loved
playing in churches.
 
No matter what the
music it seems somehow sacred when it's played in church.
 
But that's as close to worship as I've ever
been.
 
I think it's been very different
for you.”

“I grew up in church, the same
church all my life.
 
I realize how
fortunate I was to have parents who gave me that kind of upbringing.
 
My faith has been tested, but it has never
failed me.
 
Stani, God has already
reached out to you.
 
And you've responded
by trying to change the way you live your life.
 
Just open your heart.
 
He'll tell
you what you should do next.”

“How will I know it's not just
my own thoughts, my own desires?”

“You'll know.
 
Wait and listen.
 
You'll recognize the difference.”

“Watch for signs?
 
Is that what you’re telling me?
 
So far, they seem to take the form of a
beautiful girl bearing wisdom.”
 
After
another moment of staring across the yard, he began to poke at his untouched
meal.
 
“Do you think we'll always be like
this, so intense?”

“I hope not.
 
I think we have to get past that first time
we were together.
 
That was certainly
intense.
 
The more time we spend
together, the farther we'll get from that.
 
Assuming we have the opportunity to spend time together.
 
Can you really only stay a few more
hours?
 
You said you don't have to be
anywhere tonight.”

“I have a concert in DC
tomorrow night.”
 
He watched her eyes
light up as she smiled, a mischievous half-smile he'd never seen before.
 
“What are you thinking?”

“You could get stranded here,
and still get to DC in plenty of time, couldn't you?”

“Stranded how?
 
Robert will be back for me at five.
 
John has already gone ahead to the
hotel.
 
And surely, you don't think I'd
sleep here?”
 
His fork paused in mid-air
as he stared at her, trying to determine whether she was serious.

“Why not?
 
I do have a lock on my bedroom door, as if
I'd be worried about that.
 
We could have
hours more time, dinner and breakfast.
 
You wouldn't like that?”
 
Her eyes
were wide with excitement, and he felt himself being drawn into what was
clearly an inspired madness.

“Emily, in the first place,
you're asking me to be much stronger than I am.
 
The very thought of you sleeping in the next room, even with a locked
door, would be unbearable.
 
Do you really
think I'm so immune to your very beautiful self?
 
Secondly, what would Jack say if he knew I'd
stayed here?
 
I don't know what charge he
might think up, but I'm pretty sure he'd try to arrest me for something.
 
No, I can't!
 
And yes, I would like to very much!
 
You are without a doubt the most unusual girl I've ever known.
 
One minute you're an angel dispensing
spiritual counsel, and the next you're a siren luring me to certain
disaster.
 
How am I ever going to know
which one I'll have to deal with next?”

“At least you won't get bored
with me.
 
But really, can't you stay?
 
You could go to church with me in the
morning.”

Stani threw back his head and
laughed.
 
“Emily, my love, how would you
explain a strange man spending the night with you and then accompanying you to
church?
 
If you were worried about people
talking when you dragged me in from the storm, what do you suppose they would
say to such an obvious moral lapse?”

“But we wouldn't lapse.
 
We're just good friends, remember?”

He took her hand, raising it
near his lips, his eyes never leaving her expectant gaze.
 
“Don't be naive, love.
 
I
am a man and
you
are a
woman.
 
If I spent the night here, we'd
never be just friends again.
 
Not by the
time we sat down to breakfast together.”

At the warmth in his eyes and
the firmness in his voice, a little shiver lifted her shoulders.
 
“Really, Stani, I think you underestimate
me.
 
But if you think we shouldn't, so be
it.
 
We'll just have to make the most of
the time we have left.”
 
She rose from
the table and carried their plates to the sink.
 
Turning back, she flashed that beguiling little smile again.
 
“Well, are you coming?
 
Between sleeping and eating and all this
intense conversation, we've used up most of the time we might have had for more
pleasant things.
 
I'd like to learn more
about that 'I am man, you are woman' thing, if you’d care to enlighten me.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

For over an hour they sat
talking of many things.
 
Emily seemed
intent on learning as much about him as possible in the short time available,
hurling one direct question after another at his whirling brain.
 
He was helpless to do other than answer
frankly.
 
As she perched on the edge of
the cushion, gauging his every response with that profound gray gaze, he
wondered if she couldn't read his thoughts.
 
There would be no opportunity to edit his life, no hiding any dark
corner of his past.
 
Emily demanded, and
deserved, honesty.

She began with his living
arrangements, what kind of apartment, how large, who lived there with him?

“Let's see, I suppose it could
be described as large by New York standards.
 
Four bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, a nice large living area and
a very fine kitchen, which is rarely put to use.
 
It has a really excellent view of the city.
 
Views of any sort in Manhattan come with a
price tag.
 
As to my roommates, Milo and
Jana, of course, and John now.
 
He moved
into one of the guest rooms after I returned from the hospital, and he's just
never moved out.
 
We travel so much, I
suppose he doesn't feel the need for a place of his own.”