She took a seat beside him on the porch swing. “You don’t like being drenched?”
“Let’s just say it’s not the same as being on vacation.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. And I’m not complaining. I really don’t mind it most of the time, and it’s better me getting wet than Nana. And tomorrow’s Friday, right?”
She smiled. “Tonight I’m driving you home. No arguments this time.”
“Okay,” he said.
Elizabeth peeked in the window before turning her attention to Thibault again. “You weren’t lying when you said you could play the piano, right?”
“I can play.”
“When was the last time you played?”
He shrugged, thinking about it. “Two or three years ago.”
“In Iraq?”
He nodded. “One of my commanding officers was having a birthday. He loved Willie Smith, who was one of the great jazz pianists of the 1940s and 1950s. When word got out that I knew how to play, I got roped into doing a performance.”
“In Iraq,” she said again, not hiding her disbelief.
“Even marines need a break.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I take it you can read music.”
“Of course,” he said. “Why? Do you want me to teach Ben?”
She didn’t seem to hear him. “How about church? Do you ever go?”
For the first time, he looked at her.
“I’m getting the sense there’s more to this conversation than simply the two of us getting to know each other better.”
“When I was inside, I heard Nana talking on the phone. You know how much Nana loves the choir, right? And that she just started to sing solos again?”
He considered his response, suspicious of where this was going and not bothering to hide it. “Yes.”
“Her solo this Sunday is even longer. She’s so excited about it.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Kind of.” She sighed, a pained expression on her face. “It turns out that Abigail fell yesterday and broke her wrist. That’s what Nana has been talking about on the phone.”
“Who’s Abigail?”
“The pianist with the church. She accompanies the choir every Sunday.” Elizabeth started to move the swing back and forth, staring out into the storm. “Anyway, Nana said she’d find someone to fill in. In fact, she promised.”
“Oh?” he said.
“She also said that she already had someone in mind.”
“I see.”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I just thought you’d want to know. I’m pretty sure Nana will want to talk to you in a few minutes, but I didn’t want her to blindside you. I figured it would be better if I did it.”
“I appreciate that.”
For a long moment, Thibault said nothing. In the silence, Elizabeth put a hand on his knee.
“What do you think?”
“I’m getting the sense I don’t really have a choice.”
“Of course you have a choice. Nana won’t force you to do it.”
“Even though she promised?”
“She’d probably understand. Eventually.” She placed a hand over her heart. “Once her broken heart healed, I’m sure she’d even forgive you.”
“Ah,” he said.
“And most likely it wouldn’t make her health any worse, either. What with the stroke and all and the disappointment she’d feel. I’m sure she wouldn’t end up bedridden or anything.”
Thibault cracked a smile. “Don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe. But the question is, will you do it?”
“I suppose.”
“Good. And you know you’re going to have to practice tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“It might be a long rehearsal. Friday rehearsals are always long. They really love their music, you know.”
“Great,” he said, and sighed.
“Look at it this way: You won’t have to work in the rain all day.”
“Great,” he said again.
She kissed him on the cheek. “You’re a good man. I’ll be silently cheering for you in the pews.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and when Nana comes out, don’t let her know I told you.”
“I won’t.”
“And try to be more excited. Honored, even. Like you couldn’t imagine that you’d ever be offered such a wonderful opportunity.”
“I can’t just say yes?”
“No. Nana will want you to be thrilled. Like I said, it means a lot to her.”
“Ah,” he said again. He took her hand in his. “You do realize you simply could have asked me. I didn’t need the whole guilt-inducing story.”
“I know,” she said. “But it was a lot more fun to ask the other way.”
As if on cue, Nana stepped outside. She flashed a quick smile at both of them before wandering to the railing and turning toward him.
“Do you ever play the piano anymore?” Nana asked.
It was all Thibault could do not to laugh.
Thibault met with the music director the following afternoon, and despite her initial dismay at his jeans, T-shirt, and long hair, it