Promise Me Anthology (24 page)

Fuming, Krys stomped down the steps and
headed back to her house, then switched her course, instead heading
up the road for another walk. She was too angry to read now.

The night was quiet, the only sounds
crickets, and the occasional passing car. It was so different from
how it had been in the summers, with so many campers and visitors
around all the time. She’d originally thought to visit in July, but
hadn’t been able to face seeing so many families like hers had once
been, here together having fun...

With a startled gasp, Krys stopped dead, her
gaze looking into the Letchworth family’s cemetery. There was her
mystery man, standing near a grave. He was in jeans and a shirt,
his dark blond hair unkempt, his eyes on the gravestone.

“There you are,” she accused aloud, then
clapped her hand to her mouth, mortified.

The man looked up. He was handsome, but not
in a pretty way, his features more friendly that proud. “Yes. Who
are you?”

“Your neighbor,” Krys said, coming closer
hesitantly. “I think I heard you playing music last night.”

“I’m sorry,” the man said immediately. “I had
the stereo turned loud. It won’t happen again—”

“No, I liked it,” Krys said quickly. She
stopped walking, hands in her pockets. “I liked it very much,
actually. It...um, affected me.”

The man didn’t answer, staring at her.

He must think she was addled. “I’m sorry if I
disturbed you,” Krys said stiffly. “Have a good night.”

She continued up the road, grumpily going
over the exchange again and again, visualizing herself saying
anything but what she had. Why hadn’t she been cooler about the
whole thing? Why hadn’t she invited him to meet her on the Inn’s
patio for a drink?

Spying a picnic table near the large fishing
pond, Krys sat down and considered her options. She was paid up
through the rest of the week, so she might as well make use of it.
Maybe it wasn’t too late to schedule a horseback ride or
something...

“May I join you?” a hesitant voice asked.

Krys looked up, startled. It was the
stranger. She hadn’t heard him approach. “Sure, sit down.”

The man sat down, then extended his hand. “My
name is David. And you are?”

“Krys,” she answered, extending hers.

“For Krystin?” he asked, kissing her
hand.

Krys nodded, smiling. “But no one ever calls
me that.”

“I’d like to, if you don’t mind,” David said
pleasantly. “Please call me David. I much prefer it over Dave.”

He certainly did have charm. “Good to meet
you, David.”

“And I, you, Krystin,” he replied. “But why
are you out so late alone?”

“I thought you were ignoring me,” Krys said,
smiling and shrugging. “Turns out you weren’t home. Were you making
gravestone rubbings, or something?”

“Paying respects to a descendent,” David
answered vaguely, rubbing his eyes. “But we were talking about
you.”

He must have meant ancestor and misspoke.
“What about me?”

“That I should escort you home,” David said,
standing up. “This park is likely safe, especially where we are.
But you shouldn’t tempt fate and walk around unescorted.”

He obviously wanted to be by himself out here
and wanted her back in her cottage out of the way. Irked, Krys
stood up, her tone icy. “I’ll head back myself. Thanks for your
concern.”

As she began walking. David fell into step
beside her. “You’re angry with me?”

“No,” she admitted with a sigh, shaking her
head. “I’m just lonely, really. I came here for a vacation and
didn’t think it through.”

“How so?”

“I used to come here with my parents and
brother. They’re gone now. I’m alone.”

“I understand,” David said, nodding, slipping
his hands into his pockets. “I’m also alone. My sister died some
years ago. She was the last of my family.”

“I’m sorry.”

David walked Krys to her door. She faced him
awkwardly, not sure if she should invite him in. She didn’t want
the evening to end, yet also didn’t want him to think that she was
inviting a sleepover.

David looked at her, then reached out,
pushing the door wide. “You didn’t lock your door,” he said
patronizingly. “Wait here.” He went inside and began looking
around.

“Hey,” Krys called irately, romantic thoughts
forgotten as she went after him. “What do you think you’re
doing?”

“Being chivalrous,” David retorted. He
checked the three bedrooms, then descended the stairs. “Please lock
up after I leave.”

He went out, then headed across the yard
without so much as a goodbye. Angry, Krys slammed the door and
locked it, then stomped into the kitchen and opened the bottle of
wine she’d purchased that day.

There was a law against bringing alcohol into
the park. But that was fine. If anyone came looking tomorrow, they
wouldn’t find any left.

* * * *

Someone was playing music. Groggily, Krys
opened her eyes, and sat up in bed. Though her head was pounding
and her eyes felt like sandpaper, her senses were awash in that
same unearthly music. Yet this was a subtly different tune, more
longing, more hopeful somehow than the other had been. Odder, it
came from no violin; this was some kind of piano, or electric
keyboard.

It had to be David.

Suddenly struck with a plan, Krys grabbed her
cell phone, turning it on.

* * * *

The next evening, Krys was ready and in
position when dark fell. Soon after the sun disappeared, David
appeared, again walking up the road toward the forest. She hurried
to intercept him.

“I heard you playing again last night,” she
said, stepping in front of him.

He looked at her innocently. “I’m sure you’re
mistaken—”

Krys clicked playback on her phone. The
melodious tune broke the silent night, drifting on the night
air.

“That’s not on any radio,” Krys said. “It’s
too original, for one thing.” She clicked off the recording. “What
I don’t understand is why someone so talented doesn’t want to take
credit for his work. You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“What do you want from me?” David said
pointedly, folding his arms across his chest. “Sheet music to sell,
or my autograph?”

“Just the truth. Who are you?” Krys asked.
“Are you a famous musician?”

“I was once,” David said sadly, letting out a
breath. “I was a lot of things once. But I’m not anymore.”

There was so much loss in his dark blue eyes.
Krys stared into them, riveted.

“I need to be by myself now,” David said.
“But if you would welcome my company later, I’ll come to your
cottage.”

Krys gaped at him.
Was he asking to sleep
with her?
Even though the prospect was tempting, how could she
morally just agree without being sure that was what he meant?

“I’ll visit with you on your porch, is what I
meant to say,” David amended, smiling slightly. “Will that be all
right?”

“Yes,” Krys said, returning the smile. “How
late?”

“An hour to two,” David replied. “I’ll be as
fast as I can.” He walked away, up the same road towards the
cemetery.

Krys watched his shadow merge with the
forest, then walked toward her cottage, impatient for the minutes
to pass.

* * * *

David showed up as he’d promised. Walking up
the stairs, he settled in the other wicker chair, then turned
toward her expectantly. “Ask away, Krystin.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is David Helm. I used to go by
another name when I worked in the music industry. I was well liked
by the crowd, to the point I put out an album. After that, I had
money, and a little fame. Then I made some bad decisions, and hit
the skids.”

“Did you lose it all?” Krys asked. “I’m sorry
to say this, but as much as I enjoyed it, your music wasn’t
familiar to me.”

“I didn’t think it would be,” David said,
smiling ruefully. “But I am glad you liked it.” He paused. “Yes, I
lost most everything. Then I came to the attention of a powerful
man, you might say a former admirer. He saved me, before I lost it
all. But his help came with a price, a big one. But I managed to
handle that, after a while.”

There was a lot here he wasn’t saying
plainly, yet she was loath to push, especially as he had to be
referencing substance abuse. “Did you go back to music?”

David shook his head. “I went into business
management. I’m decent at that, enough so I’ve made some
success.”

More vagueness. “Are you here on business?”
Krys asked, curious.

“For an important meeting,” David admitted,
letting out a breath. “Maybe the most important of my life. That
old acquaintance has an opportunity I very much want for my own.
But I’m not the only one in the running. I’ve got to convince him
to give it to me.”

“By using music, which you know he
likes.”

“Yes,” David said, nodding. “This composition
has to be perfect. I’ll get one chance. The notes have to sway
him.” He became agitated. “I’ve rewritten the melody a hundred
times. But I don’t know if it’s moving enough—”

Krys reached out, and took his cool hand in
hers. “It’s the most moving music I’ve ever heard. What’s your
title?”

“Just ‘Night Music’,” David said, his tone
suddenly shy. “I haven’t come up with anything better. I’ve been
too focused on the notes themselves.” He squeezed her hand.

“But I’m being a bore going on about myself.
Tell me about yourself, Krystin.”

Krys released his hand, and stood. “I’d like
to,” she said hesitantly. “But please, come in. I’m cold out
here—”

“I’m sorry,” David apologized, standing at
once. “You likely are cold.” He opened the door for her, then
followed her inside.

David was oddly formal at times, but he was
the greatest gentleman she’d met, beside her father. Krys shut the
door after him. “Do you want some wine?”

“No,” David said apologetically. “But please
have some yourself. I’ll take some water, if you don’t mind.”

Krys nodded, pouring water and some wine into
two glasses. She brought them back to the sofa, handing David
his.

“To new friends,” David said politely,
clinking his glass with hers. He sipped, then set it down. “Now
please, tell me about yourself.”

* * * *

Three hours later, the clock chimed midnight.
Krys stopped talking, her face reddening when she realized she’d
been going on about herself for a solid hour. But David had been a
wonderful listener, asking questions about her life and family. He
now knew most of her life story: her wonderful childhood and
adolescence, losing her parents in the car accident when she was in
college, and her brother’s death three months ago. In return, he’d
told her of his traumatic childhood with a drunken mother and
absent father, his rise to fame, and his own addiction to drugs and
alcohol before his benefactor had saved him. What the man had done
to save David from himself again hadn’t been clear, but whatever
had happened, it had worked. David had drunk three glasses of
water, but refused anything else.

David stood. “I should go. It’s very
late.”

After connecting with someone in such depth,
desperateness not to be alone rose up inside her. Krys bolted
towards the stereo. “Wait, we can listen to music or
something—”

“No, thank you,” David said politely. “I
really need to go—”

Krys hit the stereo buttons, the music
coming on immediately. To her horror, the song playing was
familiar, and the last one she wanted to hear.

“—
I’m forever yours—”

“Turn it off,” she shrieked, and kicked the
coffee table over in her haste. “Turn it off!”

“—
forever yours, forever
yours—”

David unplugged the stereo as Krys went to
her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Strong arms carefully picked her
up. Krys clasped David around the neck as he carried her upstairs,
and carefully sat her on the bed. He sat down next to her, then
handed her the box of tissues. Krys took two, then blew her
nose.

“Tell me why you’re so upset,” David said
softly. “What does that song mean to you?”

Krys took another tissue out of the box, then
dabbed at her face.

David waited.

She took a few more hitching breaths.

David clasped his hand in hers. “Do you want
me to leave, Krystin?”

“No,” Krys said tearfully. “Please stay. I
don’t want to be alone.”

David put his arms around her, hugging her.
“Then I’ll stay. But please, tell me. You must tell someone.
Whatever it is you’re hiding is tearing you up inside.”

Krys pulled back from him gently, then pulled
her sweater off over her head. She pulled off her turtleneck,
revealing her white cotton bra. Carefully, she took David’s hand in
hers, and brought it to her check, rubbing gently.

David sighed, the sound loud in the quiet.
“Krystin, I—”

Krys leaned closer, bringing David’s hand
around to her back, pressing it there with her hand. David,
blinked, his fingers feeling the raised tissue.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

“You weren’t the only one that made bad
decisions,” Krys said quietly. “I did, too. The worst one was
Richard.”

David touched her back slightly. “There is a
word there?”

“The beginning of one,” Krys admitted. “He
wanted me to get a tattoo of his name to symbolize our love. I
refused. Later that night, when I was drinking, he put something in
my beer—”

“He was lucky he didn’t kill you,” David said
angrily. He let out a breath. “Please go on.”

“When I went to sleep, he went to work on
me.” Krys paused, visibly struggling for words. “But halfway
through he sliced too deep with his knife.”

“I’m sorry,” David said gently, hugging her.
He touched the raised welts. “Was there nothing the surgeon could
do?”