Zelda’s feverish state when she completed a piece of art.
“For you,” he said, thrusting a pile of music into my hands.
I looked down and flipped through the handwritten papers. It was an instrumental piece for piano. My eyes flicked back to the top.
“Anii.”
“Anii?” I said, confusion in my voice.
“Uh, your word succor , help ,” he said. “Helper. And it is a play on your name.”
His face burned red, and it suddenly became clear that he had written the piece for me. It wasn’t long before my face matched his in color.
“I…I’m honored,” I said.
“You have been playing,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Late at night,” he said.
“Does it disturb you?”
“No. No. It is good.”
“Well, I look forward to learning this,” I said. “I hope I can do it justice.”
“You will.”
Peter came around the corner in a T-shirt, fastening his belt. Sorin’s eyes grew wide, then dark. He muttered something and turned quickly away, starting down the stairs before I could grab his arm.
“No, wait,” I said.
My God, he must think…
“Sorin!” I called.
“It is okay, Anna,” he said. “I have to go.”
He hurried down the stairs and out the front door.
I turned to Peter and smacked his arm.
“What?”
“He thinks that you’re…that we…”
“Oh, no! Ew! I’m sorry!”
“You should be,” I said. “Do you know how shy he is? He probably worried all night before working up the courage to come to the door.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. His eyes flicked to the papers. “What’s that?”
I felt embarrassed and protective of Sorin’s gift, and clutched the pages to my chest.
“Just some music,” I said.
Peter broke into a grin.
“An-na,” he sang. “Do we have a potential love match here?”
“Ugh, please,” I said, turning toward the piano so he couldn’t see my face. “It’s nothing.”
I shoved the papers into the music book on the stand and walked toward my bedroom to get my overnight bag and to avoid my brother.
“He’s kinda young,” yelled Peter with mischief in his voice.
“I didn’t notice,” I called.
I heard Peter laugh from the other room and again wanted to punch him. He knew exactly how to get under my skin. I was worried what Sorin thought, so I quickly scribbled a note to him that I intended to slip under his door before we left: Dear Sorin, I can’t thank you enough for the music. I’m sorry you couldn’t stay and meet my brother. Maybe we can all have dinner together sometime. Sincerely, Anna.
I thought it was a bit excessive to underline my brother , but I wanted to be sure that Sorin understood.
“He’s good-looking in a moody musician kind of way,” said Peter as I returned to the living room.
“Peter, stop. I am married, after all.”
He stared hard at me until I had to look away.
L incoln narrowed his eyes, wearing as much suspicion of Peter as Sorin had.
“Lincoln, meet Peter, my brother ,” I said.
“Brother, ay?” said Lincoln.
“Yes, sir,” said Peter. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Anna’s told me all about you.”
“Good thing you’re not a suitor, or we’da had to settle thislike men.” He slapped Peter on the shoulder and loaded our bags, laughing to himself.
I slipped into the cab and closed my eyes, massaging my temples. I felt a headache playing at the edges of my skull and hoped a nap on the way to my parents’ house would take care of it. I opened my eyes as we drove away from the apartment building and caught Peter watching me.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded and closed my eyes. I felt his hand cover mine.
“So, Lincoln,” said Peter, “how are the Sox gonna do this season?”
I opened one eye and smiled at Peter. He gave me a wink. I slipped in and out of sleep on the drive to the steady hum of Lincoln’s voice.
W e agreed that Peter would surprise our parents. He waited on the path five minutes after I approached. I was able to corral Mom
“For you,” he said, thrusting a pile of music into my hands.
I looked down and flipped through the handwritten papers. It was an instrumental piece for piano. My eyes flicked back to the top.
“Anii.”
“Anii?” I said, confusion in my voice.
“Uh, your word succor , help ,” he said. “Helper. And it is a play on your name.”
His face burned red, and it suddenly became clear that he had written the piece for me. It wasn’t long before my face matched his in color.
“I…I’m honored,” I said.
“You have been playing,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Late at night,” he said.
“Does it disturb you?”
“No. No. It is good.”
“Well, I look forward to learning this,” I said. “I hope I can do it justice.”
“You will.”
Peter came around the corner in a T-shirt, fastening his belt. Sorin’s eyes grew wide, then dark. He muttered something and turned quickly away, starting down the stairs before I could grab his arm.
“No, wait,” I said.
My God, he must think…
“Sorin!” I called.
“It is okay, Anna,” he said. “I have to go.”
He hurried down the stairs and out the front door.
I turned to Peter and smacked his arm.
“What?”
“He thinks that you’re…that we…”
“Oh, no! Ew! I’m sorry!”
“You should be,” I said. “Do you know how shy he is? He probably worried all night before working up the courage to come to the door.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. His eyes flicked to the papers. “What’s that?”
I felt embarrassed and protective of Sorin’s gift, and clutched the pages to my chest.
“Just some music,” I said.
Peter broke into a grin.
“An-na,” he sang. “Do we have a potential love match here?”
“Ugh, please,” I said, turning toward the piano so he couldn’t see my face. “It’s nothing.”
I shoved the papers into the music book on the stand and walked toward my bedroom to get my overnight bag and to avoid my brother.
“He’s kinda young,” yelled Peter with mischief in his voice.
“I didn’t notice,” I called.
I heard Peter laugh from the other room and again wanted to punch him. He knew exactly how to get under my skin. I was worried what Sorin thought, so I quickly scribbled a note to him that I intended to slip under his door before we left: Dear Sorin, I can’t thank you enough for the music. I’m sorry you couldn’t stay and meet my brother. Maybe we can all have dinner together sometime. Sincerely, Anna.
I thought it was a bit excessive to underline my brother , but I wanted to be sure that Sorin understood.
“He’s good-looking in a moody musician kind of way,” said Peter as I returned to the living room.
“Peter, stop. I am married, after all.”
He stared hard at me until I had to look away.
L incoln narrowed his eyes, wearing as much suspicion of Peter as Sorin had.
“Lincoln, meet Peter, my brother ,” I said.
“Brother, ay?” said Lincoln.
“Yes, sir,” said Peter. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Anna’s told me all about you.”
“Good thing you’re not a suitor, or we’da had to settle thislike men.” He slapped Peter on the shoulder and loaded our bags, laughing to himself.
I slipped into the cab and closed my eyes, massaging my temples. I felt a headache playing at the edges of my skull and hoped a nap on the way to my parents’ house would take care of it. I opened my eyes as we drove away from the apartment building and caught Peter watching me.
“You okay?” he asked.
I nodded and closed my eyes. I felt his hand cover mine.
“So, Lincoln,” said Peter, “how are the Sox gonna do this season?”
I opened one eye and smiled at Peter. He gave me a wink. I slipped in and out of sleep on the drive to the steady hum of Lincoln’s voice.
W e agreed that Peter would surprise our parents. He waited on the path five minutes after I approached. I was able to corral Mom
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