moved, and the bullet would have hit him in his chest.” Saying the words broke the dam. Molly burst into tears.
Ramsey said, “No, sweetheart, I’ll be okay. No need to cry.” He hated to see her cry, but there was nothing he could do, only lie there helpless, wanting to howl. “Eve—I remember now. There was a boat. A Zodiac, pulled up near the beach. I saw it.”
Eve’s heart speeded up. A Zodiac—now they had a place to start. She saw his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his mouth in a thin seam. “Just a moment,” he said, and she watched him press the button again. But she couldn’t stand it. She went to get the nurse, but when she came back he was out again.
Molly was huddled over him, her shoulders shaking. It nearly broke Eve’s heart.
Sea Cliff
San Francisco
Late Friday afternoon
Emma Hunt pushed back her piano bench and rose. She couldn’t concentrate on Gershwin’s
Rhapsody in Blue,
though she loved the sheer romantic exuberance of it, how the music built and built until its grandeur, its firecracker opulence, made her fingers tingle and her heart beat faster. But not today. Emma sighed. Ever since her dad was shot the night before, she’d felt deadening fear. She heard Cal and Gage squabbling in the next room, speaking their twin talk, taking pleasure in knowing their mother had no clue what they were saying. Neither did she, but the two of them understood each other perfectly. Did they realize no one else could understand them? Oh, yes, she’d bet a week’s allowance on it.
“Emma?”
She turned to see her mother standing in the doorway, holding Cal and Gage’s hands. Both of them looked grubby from playing underneath the big oak tree outside the music room door. Her mother looked frazzled, but she was trying to pretend she was fine.
Emma smiled, though it wasn’t easy. Her brothers didn’t need to see that she was afraid—no, not just afraid, she was terrified—their father would die. “Mama, do you need me to do something with the boys?”
“No, sweetie, I’m going to clean them up myself. I wanted to tell you the Gershwin sounded wonderful. Do you know I listened to Gershwin himself playing
Rhapsody in Blue
on iTunes and sometimes you sound just like him? Maybe better.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “You’re my mother. Of course you’d say that. You know I’m not as good as Gershwin. Mrs. Mayhew says he was brilliant.”
Molly said, “Ellie will be here soon to watch the boys so you and I can go back to the hospital.” She glanced at her watch. Emma knew her mother hadn’t wanted to leave her dad at all, that she’d rather have stayed beside his bed, holding his hand, telling him he would be all right. But it was better for the twins that she came home to see them. The hospital staff always patted Emma’s head, her shoulder, telling her every other minute that her father would recover. She was grateful everyone cared so much. She closed her eyes for a moment. Her father’s stillness scared her the most. He was never still, always in motion, laughing or using his hands when he talked. She always clutched her mother’s hand when they were with him.
Cal and Gage pulled away from their mother and ran to the corner of the music room, where they had stacked piano music into two equal piles, one for each of them. What on earth did they plan to do with those piles? They knew better than to tear the pages; she’d yelled at them too much about that over the past year. The boys were arguing now, and about what? Emma said, “I wonder when they’ll start speaking English to each other?”
Molly smiled. “They already say your name and
Mama
and
Papa
to each other.”
“And ice cream.”
That got a small smile. “And ice cream. Don’t worry about the Gershwin, you’re ready to play for the audience and the orchestra. You know they love listening to you. The concertmaster, Mr. Williams, told me you were a miracle. Naturally, I agreed.”
“That’s because Mr.
Learning to Kill: Stories