to believe, but being a shock-therapy lab rat might allow her more freedom.
And then she heard music.
Although it was a tune from a different generation, it was the music of Tracy’s youth. The music she’d learned to dance to—big-band swing. Just listening to the song as she walked down the narrow path by Harmony River buoyed Tracy’s steps.
The Andrews Sisters beckoned her closer, inviting her to set aside her worries, if only for a few minutes. She couldn’t see Rose’s house through the trees, but with the volume up this loud, the older woman had to be outdoors, dancing on the wraparound porch as if her shoes had wings.
Tracy and Emma had danced many a summer night away on that porch. Tracy had danced away her grief after her mother died.
Taking the path around a blackberry bush, she stopped in the shade of the eucalyptus grove.
She and Emma—
Emma was dancing with Rose.
Emma.
Dancing. As if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if the crash hadn’t permanently destroyed her dreams.
Had Emma been dancing the entire time Tracy was in the hospital?
Her pulse quickened until it felt like her heart would hammer its way out of her chest if she didn’t do something. She took a step out of the shadows, but a hand on her arm held her back.
“Don’t,” Will said.
Tracy snapped her arm free and turned toward Rose’s house, fueled by anger at both Emma and Will.
Will yanked her back again. “Don’t.”
Emma had been here all this time? Dancing?
“What are you going to do?” Will’s contempt was palpable. “Dance with them?”
That was the furthest thing from her mind. Tracy wanted to yell at Emma, wanted to make her listen to all her frustrations. She wanted to shout and scream and howl in pain. She wanted to accuse and blame. She wanted to finally have someone understand the anger and uncertainty that beat a pounding staccato in her chest.
Tracy opened her mouth to tell Will what she had in mind, but all that came out was, “I...”
Her pulse dragged to a sluggish near halt.
Who was she kidding? It would take hours to get everything off her chest.
Will must have sensed her defeat because he pulled her deeper into the trees, farther down the winding path toward the river.
And she let him.
* * *
“T RACY ?” E MMA STEPPED out of Granny Rose’s arms. She thought she’d seen Tracy in the trees, her blond hair catching a ray of soft sunlight. Emma ran down the front stairs and into the eucalyptus grove bordering the river. “Tracy!”
But it wasn’t Tracy who awaited her. It was Will.
Beneath the trees, he exuded none of the golden-boy aura she’d admired on Parish Hill. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d been running. But his blond hair didn’t glisten, his skin didn’t radiate vitality and there wasn’t a fleeting shout of laughter as when he’d first seen her this morning.
“How can you dance?” The anger in Will’s voice thrust barbed points at Emma, bringing her to a halt. “You were dancing like you were happy.”
The emptiness that never receded completely expanded inside of Emma, filling her with a bleakness that welled into her eyes and threatened to overflow. But she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of Will. “I wish I could make you understand. Part of me cringes every time I feel a hint of happiness because I caused the accident that nearly killed Tracy. Me.” She tapped her chest. “I carry that with me every day and I always will. But I was trying to make my grandmother happy just now. I owe it to her.”
Glaciers were warmer than Will’s expression.
“So if I was smiling, if I looked happy, I’ll admit, there may have been a moment when the music swelled and I felt hope. Hope that I’d finally see for myself that Tracy is okay.” She searched the area again for any sign of her friend, but she was gone. “I’d switch places with Tracy and take on all her suffering if I could. It would mean the world to me if she forgave me, but she doesn’t
And then she heard music.
Although it was a tune from a different generation, it was the music of Tracy’s youth. The music she’d learned to dance to—big-band swing. Just listening to the song as she walked down the narrow path by Harmony River buoyed Tracy’s steps.
The Andrews Sisters beckoned her closer, inviting her to set aside her worries, if only for a few minutes. She couldn’t see Rose’s house through the trees, but with the volume up this loud, the older woman had to be outdoors, dancing on the wraparound porch as if her shoes had wings.
Tracy and Emma had danced many a summer night away on that porch. Tracy had danced away her grief after her mother died.
Taking the path around a blackberry bush, she stopped in the shade of the eucalyptus grove.
She and Emma—
Emma was dancing with Rose.
Emma.
Dancing. As if she didn’t have a care in the world. As if the crash hadn’t permanently destroyed her dreams.
Had Emma been dancing the entire time Tracy was in the hospital?
Her pulse quickened until it felt like her heart would hammer its way out of her chest if she didn’t do something. She took a step out of the shadows, but a hand on her arm held her back.
“Don’t,” Will said.
Tracy snapped her arm free and turned toward Rose’s house, fueled by anger at both Emma and Will.
Will yanked her back again. “Don’t.”
Emma had been here all this time? Dancing?
“What are you going to do?” Will’s contempt was palpable. “Dance with them?”
That was the furthest thing from her mind. Tracy wanted to yell at Emma, wanted to make her listen to all her frustrations. She wanted to shout and scream and howl in pain. She wanted to accuse and blame. She wanted to finally have someone understand the anger and uncertainty that beat a pounding staccato in her chest.
Tracy opened her mouth to tell Will what she had in mind, but all that came out was, “I...”
Her pulse dragged to a sluggish near halt.
Who was she kidding? It would take hours to get everything off her chest.
Will must have sensed her defeat because he pulled her deeper into the trees, farther down the winding path toward the river.
And she let him.
* * *
“T RACY ?” E MMA STEPPED out of Granny Rose’s arms. She thought she’d seen Tracy in the trees, her blond hair catching a ray of soft sunlight. Emma ran down the front stairs and into the eucalyptus grove bordering the river. “Tracy!”
But it wasn’t Tracy who awaited her. It was Will.
Beneath the trees, he exuded none of the golden-boy aura she’d admired on Parish Hill. He was breathing heavily, as if he’d been running. But his blond hair didn’t glisten, his skin didn’t radiate vitality and there wasn’t a fleeting shout of laughter as when he’d first seen her this morning.
“How can you dance?” The anger in Will’s voice thrust barbed points at Emma, bringing her to a halt. “You were dancing like you were happy.”
The emptiness that never receded completely expanded inside of Emma, filling her with a bleakness that welled into her eyes and threatened to overflow. But she wouldn’t cry. Not in front of Will. “I wish I could make you understand. Part of me cringes every time I feel a hint of happiness because I caused the accident that nearly killed Tracy. Me.” She tapped her chest. “I carry that with me every day and I always will. But I was trying to make my grandmother happy just now. I owe it to her.”
Glaciers were warmer than Will’s expression.
“So if I was smiling, if I looked happy, I’ll admit, there may have been a moment when the music swelled and I felt hope. Hope that I’d finally see for myself that Tracy is okay.” She searched the area again for any sign of her friend, but she was gone. “I’d switch places with Tracy and take on all her suffering if I could. It would mean the world to me if she forgave me, but she doesn’t
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