Cassidy huffed. “I don’t need you walking me home!”
“If you show up at the house without me, I’ll never hear the end of it. She’s already furious you’re out with the baby.”
It was Tristan’s turn to look confused, because why on earth would my sister need an escort to go a couple of blocks in the middle of the day in Grand Orchard? It seemed ridiculous, but the little wobble she’d had from Hannah’s small frame hitting her made me realize Cass needed more help than she’d ever let on. She thought she’d outgrown a lot of it, but she hadn’t.
Tristan and Hannah hugged Cass goodbye and headed over to the music store while we ordered our cupcakes. I took the box and my sister’s arm, and we made our way down the street back home.
“You like her,” Cass said.
I didn’t need to know who she was asking about. The truth was, I liked Tristan a whole lot. I also liked her genius of a daughter, but I wasn’t sure it could ever be anything more than the kiss we’d exchanged. Not only because of the things Tristan had said?and not said?after the beautiful kiss, but because they needed something more than I was good at. They needed someone to stay. To stick to them and their lives in a way my musician lifestyle wasn’t exactly good at.
“She’s been through a lot,” I said.
Cass nodded. “Yeah. So, don’t screw it up.”
I chuckled. “I’m not sure there’s anything there to screw up, Cass. I’m not sure there should be.”
“Well, then you better figure it out before you continue to wiggle your way into their lives. It isn’t fair to them otherwise.”
It wasn’t anything I didn’t know.
At the steps of the house, I halted. I didn’t think I could face my mom and her frustrating helicopter reactions to Cass and me. I didn’t want to hear, yet again, all the things I was doing wrong instead of right.
Instead, I wanted to hurry back to the music shop just like I’d always done when other things in my life weren’t working. But instead of Elana waiting for me, Tristan and Hannah would be. And even though I knew it shouldn’t, even though I’d just told my sister and myself that I wasn’t sure we could be anything, my heart bloomed at the idea of them being there when I arrived.
I opened the back door, set the cupcake box on the counter, ruffled Cassidy’s hair, kissed Chevelle’s head, and then turned to run away—or rather, run to something I truly wanted.
???
Two hours later, my ears were ringing with“I Have a Dream”as Hannah’s hands slid over the keys. I was stunned all over again by the talent in her little fingers. The talent of her brain that allowed her to read, filter, and then play the complex notes at such a young age. It was wild. Like something from a movie. I’d heard stories about child savants like this before. It wasn’t unheard of, but I’d just never experienced it. There had been a couple of teenagers enrolled at Juilliard when I was there, but I hadn’t really thought about what it must have been like for them when they were younger.
I hadn’t even started playing until I was eight years old. I’d fallen in love with it because it felt like something that flowed through me naturally. Like my soul leaking out onto the keys. It felt like something that could be mine while my parents were absorbed in the issues with Cassidy.
I stood up from the piano bench, patting the top of Hannah’s hat.
“Ten more times from start to finish.”
“’K,” she said.
I stepped out of the practice room and into the art studio. Tristan had her back to me, a paintbrush in one hand as she stared at a canvas taller than her. Maybe seven feet by three feet. Narrow but still enormous.
The picture was stunning. It was as if the observer had their eye to a keyhole, the black outline of it visible around the edges. And through the keyhole was a kaleidoscope of color. A lake at sunrise, the sky awash with pinks and purples and grays that were reflected across the rippling water. The edges of the apple orchards to one side, bursting with flowers, the soft whites and pinks shaded by the colors streaming from the sky.
“It’s incredible,” I told her, and she jumped, the paintbrush coming dangerously close to the canvas, but she pulled back at the last moment. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She smiled and put the paintbrush on the palette sitting nearby with several colors spread across it. “I kind of lose track of myself sometimes. It’s why I rarely do it when it’s just Hannah and me, because everything in the world disappears while I’m working.”
Her words echoed every thought I’d ever had about my music.
I was nodding at her.
“For a long time, I thought it made me a bad mom. Like the fact that I could actually tune out my child while I was painting…” She swallowed hard. “But then I realized the only thing that would have made me a bad parent was if I knew and did it anyway without making sure she had someone else watching over her.”
“I lost Cassidy a couple of times when I was supposed to be watching her.” I told her the truth so she wouldn’t hold it against herself. “The first time it happened was the day I brought my guitar home. I was lost, making music, playing chords that weren’t anywhere except in my head. I didn’t even know she was gone until my mom touched my shoulder. One look at her panicked face and I knew I’d screwed up.”
“Where did she go?”
“She took our dog for a walk, going three streets over. She didn’t know how to get back. Then she fell, twisted her ankle, and just sat on the curb, crying, until Dad picked her up and carried her home.”
