Hold on My Heart (13 page)

Listening to her now was a terrible, wonderful thing. His chest burned. Breathing took effort.

He watched Rachel’s expression change as the music tore down her usual reserve. She lit up as she sang. It was a syrupy ballad but full of sweet emotion. She seemed happy and relaxed up on that stage, in front of all those eyes. He could see it in her smile and her posture and the fluid way her hands moved over the keys. A sense of paternal pride washed over him, and even though he could claim little ownership of it, he gave himself this moment to enjoy. And he knew then that he’d do anything to keep her looking that happy all the time.

After all the performances were over, and the parents milled around waiting for their little prodigies to emerge, Tom spotted Connie’s sister, Kristy. Surprise lit her features when she met his eyes, but she smiled and moved his way.

She leaned close and hugged him. “Tom, it’s good to see you. Rachel didn’t mention you were coming.”

“She didn’t know. She didn’t invite me.” He sounded more terse than he’d meant to.

But Kristy nodded, her lips pressed together in a tight smile. “I told her she should tell you, for what that’s worth.”

“Thank you. Kristy, this is Beverly and Peter Hamilton. I’m working on a project for Mr. Hamilton right now. An ice-cream parlor.”

They exchanged greetings and chatted, but all the while, Tom watched the crowd for two familiar faces. Rachel, whom he’d come to see. And Libby, whom, if he was being completely honest, he’d also come to see.

Moments stretched, but finally, there they were, Libby and Rachel walking down the stage steps together. Libby said something and his daughter laughed, and suddenly his legs felt like overcooked noodles. How long had it been since he’d seen Rachel laugh?

He’d known Libby was helping with the talent show, of course, but it hadn’t occurred to him until just that moment she’d been getting to know his daughter. The idea pleased him and shook him at the same time, and he felt quite certain this was something that might come up with him and Dr. Brandt.

Libby raised her head and caught his eye, her smile brightening. She pointed and said something else to Rachel. His daughter’s expression dimmed, but she sought him out and offered a hesitant wave when she spotted him. In her hand was the tiny cluster of flowers, making his heart take an extra thump. She wasn’t annoyed. She might not be thrilled he was there, but at least she wasn’t pissed. That was progress.

“There’s my rock star!” Kristy exclaimed as soon as Rachel was within reach. She pulled her in for a tight hug.

“God, Aunt Kristy, I can’t breathe.” Rachel giggled. Her cheeks were bright pink, and a curl from her fancy hairdo was starting to unwind. She looked flushed and happy as she turned to Tom. She held out the flowers awkwardly. “Hey. Thanks for coming. And thanks for these. That was nice.”

He wanted to hug her then, too, with all of the enthusiasm Kristy had shown, but he held back, not wanting to embarrass her. “Hey yourself. You did a great job.”

“Thanks.” Her cheeks went a deeper pink. She looked around at the cluster of them. “Um, hi, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“Hello, Rachel. That really was a lovely song you played. I enjoyed it so much.”

Peter leaned forward. “A fabulous job, young lady. You should be very proud of yourself.”

“Thanks,” she said again, and twisted the flower stems in her hands.

Libby leaned closer to Rachel. “That’s my dad,” she murmured. They exchanged a smirk that Tom had every intention of asking Libby about later.

Rachel turned back to Kristy. “Where are Grandma and Grandpa?”

Some of Tom’s elation dimmed, but he tried not to take her question personally. Of course she’d be expecting them.

“They’re over there,” Kristy answered. “We’ll catch them in a minute. Your dad was just telling me he’s working on an ice-cream parlor.”

Rachel’s glance darted his way but just as quickly moved beyond him. “Oh, there’s Jamie and Sarah. I need to catch them. Some of us are going out for pizza. Thanks for coming, everybody.”

And just like that, she was gone.

“Rachel,” Kristy called after her, but Rachel’s slender form was folded into the crowd. “Well, I guess she’s done with us.”

Tom hadn’t expected a marching band or confetti or anything just because he’d shown up to watch her in a talent show that she’d never invited him to, but this felt a little anticlimactic. He’d hoped they would have a chance to talk for a few minutes. He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes.

Still, he smiled toward his feet when Libby moved closer and murmured in his ear, “You owe me six bucks.”

“I am incredibly happy that’s over,” said Ginny as she took a sip of her ice water. “Remind me the next time I’m eight and a half months pregnant to just say no to the talent show.”

Ben rubbed her back as they sat across the table from Libby and Tom at the darkly paneled Monroe Street Pub. The place was crowded with Saturday night regulars, and the booth they had squeezed into was tiny.

Libby didn’t mind. It gave her a good excuse to press close against Tom Murphy. He was wearing a hint of cologne tonight. It smelled good, kind of spicy sweet, but she almost missed the eau de sawdust-and-varnish that usually surrounded him. And his pinstriped shirt was a surprise. She’d pictured him as a purely plaid and mostly flannel kind of guy. But she liked the stripes. She liked him, too, and was very glad when he’d agreed to come have a drink with them after the talent show.

“So, Tom, what’s it like working with the professor?” Ben asked, spinning his cocktail napkin with his index finger.

“It’s all right. A little more chatter than I’m used to.” He offered Libby a sideways glance.

“He means me,” she said. “Apparently I talk too much.”

Ben smiled. “This is the first time someone has told you that? Ah, good. Drinks.” He reached out and took his from the waitress before she could set it down.

“Relax, Ben. She’s not going to take it back,” Ginny chided. But he gulped half of it down anyway, before the waitress had even left the table.

“Why so thirsty, Ben?” Libby asked. He wasn’t typically much of a drinker.

He shook his head. “Absolutely craptastic day at the office. My boss is an idiot. But you know all about that, don’t you, Libby? Maybe I should send an email and get fired.”

Embarrassment slapped at Libby, even though she knew he was just teasing. Ginny shushed him, but the damage was done.

“How do you get fired from an email?” Tom asked Ben.

Libby took a big breath and raised her hand. “That was me. I got fired because of an email. I meant to send it to one friend at work, but I accidentally sent it to about thirty-five hundred employees. I think it might have gone out to all of our clients, too.”

Tom took a sip of his drink. “That seems like an honest mistake. Why did they fire you for that?”

Ben started to chuckle, and Ginny shushed him again, but her own smile was evident.

Libby took another breath, like the one right before a bandage gets ripped off. “Probably because in the email I said the only thing more inflated than my boss’s ego was her breast implants. I think I may have also mentioned she had a nose like a narwhal.”

Tom burst out laughing, and so did Ginny and Ben. Libby smiled, and for the first time since getting fired, she realized the absurdity of the situation. She shouldn’t have written that email, and she sure shouldn’t have sent it, but all things considered, it
was
actually kind of funny.

“A narwhal?” Tom finally asked. “You mean like the dolphin?”

“It’s a whale, actually. Ask my dad. He can tell you all about how early European explorers used to find their tusks and assume they were unicorn horns.”

Tom laughed again. “Oh, well, in that case, it sounds much less insulting.”

Libby nodded and took a drink. “Go ahead and laugh. You should see this woman’s nose. Anyway, Ben, I do not recommend it. I am having a terrible time finding a new job. But at least I have the ice-cream parlor.”

Ben pointed his finger at Tom while still holding his drink close to his lips. “Well, that doesn’t sound half-bad to me. Can I come and work for you, Tom? I have virtually no carpentry skills, but I can pound a hammer.”

“That kind of help I already have.” He tilted his head toward Libby.

“Hey.” She might have been offended had he not chosen just that moment to lean into her and smile, and she noticed that he had the tiniest cluster of freckles high up on his cheek, like a little constellation. She’d never noticed them before. She’d also never been this close to him. She liked it there.

“Actually, Libby has been a lot of help,” Tom told them. “And I especially enjoy the updates about Marti’s dungeon-themed wedding.”

Libby laughed into her glass and bumped him with her elbow. “It’s not dungeon themed. It’s medieval.”

“Just like marriage,” Ben teased. He kissed Ginny’s temple and then motioned to the waitress to bring another round.

“Speaking of medieval, have you seen that tattoo?” Ginny asked, crossing her arms over her expanded belly. “She’s hiding it from Mom, you know.”

“Good call. Maybe Marti hasn’t gone completely crazy.”

“In spite of her ring tone,” Tom said, sipping from his beer.

Ginny looked over at her. “What ring tone is that?”

Wow. Everyone was dumping out secrets tonight. This one might require some finesse, but Libby was fast on her feet.

“Oh,” she answered. “I was showing Dad how to assign unique ring tones to specific numbers, so he assigned that old Patsy Cline song for Marti. You know, ‘Crazy’?”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed, making the next logical leap. “What’s the ring tone when
I
call your phone?” Her tone was as suspicious as her expression.

Libby smiled, prepared with an answer. “‘Sisters,’ from
White Christmas.
You know, ‘Sisters, sisters. There were never such devoted sisters.’” She sang the line to sound convincing, but it was a big, fat lie. Her ring tone for Ginny was “Baby Got Back,” but no way in hell was she telling her that.

Tom coughed a little into the neck of his beer and took a hearty swallow.

She thumped her knee against his under the table, a warning.

His knee tapped hers back. A promise to keep her secret.

She very nearly reached her hand down to give his leg a squeeze, but something held her back. Common sense, maybe?

“So how did you escape without getting a historical name, Ginny?” Tom asked, deftly changing the subject. Libby tapped her knee against him one more time for thanks.

“Oh, I have one. I’m Virginia Dare, named after the first European baby born in North America. Lucky for me, no one knows that.” Ginny repositioned again and pressed her hand against her back. “And speaking of babies, this one has been kicking me all day. My back is killing me.”

The evening rolled on, and as they talked and laughed, shared stories and ordered more drinks, a glow warmed Libby from the inside out. A glow that had nothing to do with her rum-and-Coke and everything to do with Tom Murphy. This was starting to feel like a double date.

It wasn’t, of course, and that was a good thing. Probably. But… it felt nice. It was fun and comfortable and good. The kind of good you don’t realize you’re missing until suddenly it’s there. A shiny gift from a secret admirer left on your doorstep.

There were so many more layers to Tom Murphy than she’d thought at first. More than any other man she knew. His job might be straightforward and obvious, but he was complex. And the more she learned, the more she liked. She knew she liked looking at him. A lot. That part was easy. But she also liked the way he extolled the virtues of run-down old buildings, and that sad but determined glow that lit his eyes whenever he talked about Rachel. She liked the flush that came over his face whenever he laughed at something she’d said. And at this moment, she very much liked the way he was looking at her, as if he might be seeing something more to her as well. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad decision after all.

Butterflies fluttered to the tips of her fingers and toes, tickling everything in between.

“What?” he asked.

The butterfly in her throat made it hard to talk. “My car is parked back at the high school. When we leave, can you give me a ride over there?”

He nodded and set down his drink. “Um, sure.”

“Well, I will be driving us home,” Ginny said, tipping her head toward Ben. “I think Captain Craptastic has had a couple too many.”

Ben offered up a lopsided grin and hugged her to his side. “You drive us home, but I promise I will absolutely h-h-h-hook you up when we get there.” His slightly slurred words ended in a hiccup, prompting laughter all around.

Ginny shook her head. “Oh, that would be super, honey. I can hardly wait. You’re so romantic.”

“Romantic enough to knock you up.” He tipped back the last of his drink.

“Okay. We’re done here.” Ginny shook her head again and pried herself from the booth. “Tom, I’m sorry you had to witness this. I shouldn’t have let him order scotch. My husband really can’t handle the hard stuff.”

“I’ll give you hard stuff, baby.” Ben giggled like a frat boy.