Shine Your Love on Me by Jean C. Joachim Page B

fingers flying over the keys so expertly. It had
soothed her then, as it did now.
    When the crowd thinned out, a familiar bark
drew her attention.
    “I can’t believe you’re here,” came a
familiar, deep voice.
    Brooke looked up into eyes shaded by the
night. “Pres?” A short woof from a pug answered as the tall man
folded himself down to share the small space on her blanket. “And
Buddy.” She petted the pug, who had plopped down next to her.
    “He never waits for an invitation, no matter
how many times I tell him that’s rude.”
    “Neither does his owner.”
    “Oops. Pardon me.” As he moved to rise, she
put her hand on his arm.
    “Just kidding. Stay.”
    “Are you going to tell me to sit, too?”
    She laughed.
    “I didn’t know you like classical,” he
said.
    “Never asked.”
    “I figured an advertising woman would only
like something more, uh…recent. More current.”
    “Figured wrong. I love all classical,
especially Vivaldi.”
    “Me, too.”
    “My dad used to play ‘Moonlight Sonata,’ ‘Fur
Elise,’ and other stuff on the piano for me.”
    “I was dragged to The Little Orchestra
Society by my mother. I resisted, but I loved the music. Just
didn’t want Mom to know.”
    “Are you close to your parents?” She picked a
dandelion washed in the moonlight and twirled it.
    “Yes and no. They’d like me to live their
way, but I don’t want to. Can’t.”
    She shot a sidelong glance at him. “What’s
their way?”
    “Dad’s into investment banking. Mom does all
the politically correct charities. I hate that shit.”
    “At least they’re alive.”
    “I don’t hate them , just how they
live. I see them on major holidays. That’s enough.”
    “Wish I had that.”
    “You have Ruth.”
    “She’s great. But my parents were…exceptional
people, in some ways.”
    “Too bad about the accident.”
    “Too bad they were stoned and driving.” A
note of bitterness crept into her tone.
    “Guess you miss them.”
    She sighed. No more tears left to cry after
so many years. Or were there? Her eyes watered. She took a deep
breath and stuffed the emotion back down into her chest.
    “Sorry. Didn’t mean to open old wounds.” Pres
slid his hand over hers.
    A few rapid blinks saved Brooke the
embarrassment of breaking down in front of him, again. “It’s okay.
It’s been a long time. And I have Nan, you’re right about
that.”
    “She’s been a great friend to me,” he
said.
    “She’s a great friend to everyone, especially
to me. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
    “That’s why you see her every Sunday?”
    “One reason. One of many. I need a dose of
Nan, after spending a week in the cold world of advertising.”
    “I thought you loved what you do.”
    “Some days. I’m good at it. I like that.
Being good at something. But the work isn’t fulfilling on one level
and some of the people are…selfish and cold.”
    “Like your old boss?”
    “Among others.”
    “Don’t you have any advertising friends?”
    “You don’t make friends in advertising. You
make contacts. People have to be useful. Good for something.”
    “That’s cold.”
    “Yep.” Brooke frowned. Having a few hours
away from obsessing about finding work or wondering whom Lloyd was
with had been wonderful.
    “Sure brought you down, didn’t I?”
    “It’s not you. It’s life.”
    “How about an ice cream cone? You can’t be
depressed eating ice cream.” He stood up and offered her his hand.
“What’s your favorite flavor?”
    “Mint Chip,” she said, tugging on his fingers
while she rose.
    “Mine, too! What a coincidence.”
    “Is there anyone who’s eaten mint chip who
doesn’t claim it as their favorite?”
    “No sane person.”
    Brooke laughed.
    The bulk of the crowd had cleared out. Pres,
Brooke, and Buddy strolled along the shadowy path, inhaling the
fading scent of spring roses. She let go of Pres’s hand and wrapped
her arms around her middle as the night air turned