Windswept Way (Hope Harbor #9)(43)
Author: Irene Hannon

 

Not until the last one died away did he speak. “Do you sit out here in the dark every night and listen?”

 

“No. I’m never certain when—or if—she’ll play. But I saw her cross the lawn from the cottage about twenty minutes ago and had a feeling she was coming to visit Allison.”

 

Jon cocked his head. “Who?”

 

“The piano.” Though it was too dark to see her features, the smile in her voice was clear as she explained the name. “It’s such a shame she won’t share her gift with others.”

 

“From what I understand, she hasn’t been part of the world for years. I imagine playing in public would be a huge leap for her.”

 

“But I’ve made it as safe as possible.” She described the arrangement she’d proposed. “It’s not healthy for someone to be that cut off from meaningful human interaction.”

 

Silence fell between them as he digested that comment.

 

Was she talking about Rose, or was her remark also directed at him?

 

And since when had he begun looking for hidden meanings behind people’s comments?

 

Rose launched into a tune he recognized, and Ashley spoke again, her surprise clear in her inflection. “That’s unexpected. I’ve never heard her play anything but classical music. This is from—”

 

“The Phantom of the Opera—‘All I Ask of You.’”

 

“You know your musical theater.”

 

His lips curved as she parroted his comment back at him. “No, but I’ve seen that show.” Under duress, after Melinda dragged him to a production. While she’d been far more impressed by the dramatic extravaganza than him, this heady, romantic melody had stuck with him. As had the lyrics, which had ended up capturing all he’d yearned for during the rough, early days of his recovery.

 

All he still yearned for.

 

A world with no more night—and someone to lead him from his solitude.

 

Someone like the woman sitting a few feet away.

 

His throat tightened, and he forced air into his lungs.

 

“It’s an amazing piece of theater, but I prefer happier endings.” Ashley’s usual upbeat vibe was subdued.

 

“Life doesn’t always provide those.” His reply came out choked.

 

“I know.”

 

He stiffened. No missing that inference. She was talking about him and the accident. Implying she knew what it was like to go through what he’d endured. But no one did. No one had any idea how—

 

“Jason taught me that.”

 

What?

 

He peeked at her under cover of night. Her head was bowed, her focus apparently turned inward. To an unhappy ending of her own.

 

This wasn’t about him after all.

 

Jon took a long, slow breath.

 

When had he grown so self-absorbed, so touchy, so quick to assume everyone pitied him that he’d become blind to other people’s pain?

 

He forced himself to shift gears.

 

Her comment invited follow-up, but what could he say? If she wanted to talk about personal matters, she should choose someone she knew well.

 

Except she couldn’t yet have made any close friends here. And considering the mother/daughter relationship she’d described, it was doubtful her mom would be a confidante.

 

But she must have someone she could talk to. A vibrant woman like Ashley would draw friends like a light drew moths. She could call one of them if she wanted to hash out painful subjects.

 

Yet her sad admission begged for a response. For an invitation to unburden her soul if that’s what she needed to do. Anyone with an ounce of compassion would offer as much.

 

The moisture in his mouth evaporated, and his pulse picked up.

 

You can do this, Gray. Just spit out the question.

 

Curling his fingers around the edge of the tread, Jon spoke as the muted melody filled the night. “You want to talk about him?”

 

The question hung between them, dangling in the night air, until heat flooded his cheeks.

 

So much for trying to be empathetic. Instead, he’d put her in an uncomfortable—

 

“I’ve never told anyone what happened.”

 

And why should she start with him? A vendor who was a business associate, not a friend.

 

Pushing could be a mistake.

 

Yet all at once, he wanted to know her story. Wanted to know what kind of man would hurt a radiant woman like Ashley, who carried sunshine in her smile and kindness in her heart.

 

A man who’d spawned a surprisingly intense anger deep within him.

 

“I take it he was your boyfriend?” The question spilled out before he could stop it.

 

The music swelled to a crescendo as silence fell between them, filled with unasked questions and unexpressed emotion.

 

He’d overstepped.

 

Wiping his palms on the denim stretched taut against his thighs, he stood. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I should go. It’s getting late, and—”

 

“Wait.”

 

He froze, a sudden wave of panic engulfing him.

 

Maybe pushing hadn’t been smart. There was risk if she opened up. He could get sucked in. Begin to care for her. Set himself up for another rejection.

 

And despite the loneliness that had been plaguing him of late, falling for—and losing—another woman would be worse.

 

The safest strategy was to cut this conversation short and walk away.

 

A course he intended to follow as soon as he could formulate an excuse to leave and convince his uncooperative feet to get into gear.

 

 

 

 

 

16

 

 

Jon was going to walk away.

 

And she should let him.

 

Talking about Jason would be hard. And what purpose would it serve?

 

Except . . .

 

Ashley gripped the arms of the rocking chair.

 

Hadn’t she, mere hours ago, decided to offer him the hand of friendship? And how better to let him know she’d like to deepen their relationship beyond vendor/client status than by trusting him with a hurtful secret?