thought it better for him to move on. Clearly, Peter didn’t agree.
“Take that!” Peter slapped his last card on the pile and won the hand.
Carly sat next to him soaking in his every word. She glowed each time Peter looked her way. Her brother’s stepdaughter did a great job of distracting Peter. The timing couldn’t be better. Libby seemed like a nice girl, but her situation was complicated. Perhaps Carly could help him forget her. Peter grinned at Carly again.
Karen’s hopes inched up another notch.
“Ready for pie?” she asked. Hungry voices cheered. How these kids could be hungry again so soon amazed her. “It’s ready in the kitchen. You can join the adults in the living room.” The mob of kids bustled past; Peter and Carly shared a joke as they walked by.
Fifteen minutes later everyone sat in the great room. The huge room overflowed with comfortable furniture and oversized potted plants; a baby grand stood in one corner. The boys often used the room to practice or just sit and play whatever instrument they were in the mood for. She loved listening to their music. It amazed her to have such gifted sons. On one side of the room Adam’s camera sat on a tripod waiting for the traditional family photos.
“Peter, would you play something for me? It’s been so long.” Karen’s aging mother-in-law asked.
“Sure, Grandma.” Peter said from his seat next to Carly. He stood and placed his empty plate on the coffee table. He smiled at Carly as he stretched his fingers. Carly looked pleased.
Peter sat behind the piano. “What would you like to hear?”
“How about something new? Are you working on anything?”
“Mom, Peter is always working on something new. The kid can’t seem to turn his writing off.” Jett shared a proud glance with her.
“Al right, play something pretty for me.” Grandma said.
Peter rewarded her with a loving smile. The two of them always shared a special connection. Karen recaled when she was in the hospital delivering Adam several weeks too early. Tiny Adam stayed in the hospital for more than a week while Jett’s parents took care of Garrett and Peter. During that time four-year-old Garrett watched television and played outside with neighbor kids.
Peter, however, stuck by his Grandmother’s side. If she worked in her flowerbeds, three-year-old Peter was with her. When she did laundry and made beds, little Peter tried to help, chattering away.
He loved to help her make cookies and insisted that Grandma teach him the piano. When they picked him up, the young boy already mastered Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.
Peter drew in a breath and released it. He looked thoughtful for a moment then began to play. At first his fingers barely touched the keys. A beautiful melody rose from the piano. The room quieted as he artfuly mastered the instrument.
Karen watched him transform before her. He became one with the music, and it warmed her soul. His body moved gently as he played, lost to the world around him. She recognized the tune, but couldn’t place it. It wasn’t from anything they’d ever recorded or practiced together, yet the tender piece touched her with its beauty and the loving way he performed.
Even the young kids in the room snuggled in with their parents as Peter’s playing built in strength and power. His hands moved over the keyboard effortlessly. The instrument became an extension of him. Grandma watched and listened, pride beaming on her aged face. Karen noticed Carly sitting alone on the love seat in obvious awe.
When Karen looked at Peter again, sadness filed his eyes.
Now she recognized the melody. This was the song he wrote for Libby, “Angel Kisses”. The energy of the music intensified as the angst of the tune built and Peter laid bare his broken heart. Karen bit the edge of her lip. Music is what feelings sound like. As she watched her beautiful son, she could see how deeply he loved Libby and that every note of music written was for her.
She glanced at her husband who shared a concerned look.
This was no simple crush that would easily pass. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to get Peter together with Libby for just a day before they left for Europe.
The beautiful music slowed and returned to the beginning melody. Peter’s emotion filed the room. He was a master at moving an audience. When his long fingers struck the final chord, his head dropped to his chest. First the room echoed in silence, and then burst with applause.
Peter reached