Hearts Unfold by Karen Welch Page B

tomorrow night.   That would at least buy a little more time
for a response from Betsy.   Even if she
and Stani were involved in some impulsive tryst, surely she would check her
messages.
    While Jana
called the airport to place them on stand-by to return to New York, Milo
debated the wisdom of filing a missing persons report.   But if Stani were somewhere with this girl,
he would eventually have to surface.   He
might yet make the concert on Christmas Eve, and no one would need to know that
he had ever disappeared.   There was no
reason to create unwanted publicity for either of them if they were only guilty
of being in love.
    But in his
heart, Milo believed he would have known if Stani had become emotionally
involved with this girl.   He was not an
impetuous boy.   Rather, he was too
cautious at times.   He had been so
painfully shy as a child, always tucking his head as if he had something to
apologize for.   It had taken a great deal
of careful coaching to transform that timid boy into a confident
performer.   Milo had enlisted able help
to prepare Stani for the world's great concert stages.   When his training was completed, the little
boy who had once shaken Milo's hand and agreed to become partners had become a
young man far exceeding anyone's expectations.   Even Jana, who had taken the role of mother to heart, expressed
amazement at this newly charismatic Stani.   Yet inside, Milo suspected, the boy who had sought approval above all
else remained unchanged.   He could not
accept the image of a rebellious Stani, who would intentionally disappoint a
conductor and orchestra he held in highest regard.   He would not simply ignore his
commitments.   Still, the thing that most
alarmed Milo, though he did not mention it to Jana, was the fact that Stani had
left his violin in the hotel room.
    They arrived at
the apartment late that night, with no idea where to look next.   There was nothing in Stani's room to indicate
that he had made any plans other than to go to Washington.   Afraid to look into one another's eyes, they
wandered about the apartment, with its spectacular view of the city lights,
scarcely noticing the snow that had begun to fall.

 
    Chapter Seven

 
    Emily woke with
a start, stiff and sore, and confused at the presence of something next to her
on the floor.   The dim light from the
fire and the oil lamp cast shadows around the room; and for several minutes she
stared up at them, trying to remember how she had come to be here.   Then with her heart in her throat, she raised
herself on one elbow and searched the face beside her.   She touched his cheek and was rewarded by its
warmth.   His color, in the firelight,
seemed a little better, too.   When she
moved against him, he drew a deep breath, as if in response to her touch.   Slipping from beneath the covers, she knelt
on the floor and carefully tucked the quilts around him.
    “It shouldn't
be long now before help comes.   I know
they're looking for you.   I've put as
many lights as possible in the windows.   Someone's sure to see them and come soon.”   It sounded reassuring, she hoped, assuming he
could hear her.   She'd read that even
comatose patients could hear, so it was worth trying to comfort him.   And talking broke the unbearable stillness of
the room.
    The fire was
low again; she'd slept for almost two hours.   The candles must have burnt down as well.   Making the rounds, she replaced as many as
possible from her dwindling supply, added logs to the fire and made a sandwich
for her supper.   She couldn't just sit
and stare at him all night she decided.   Still,
she needed to stay awake to keep the fire going and tend the candles.
    She had to face
the fact that with nightfall there was little likelihood anyone would be out
there searching for him.   The wind
continued to blow, piling the snow in drifts across the yard.   The house was cold now, with only a capsule
of warmth around the hearth.   She
gathered