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  “It sounds like Verity here is lucky to have someone as enthusiastic as you are to help her.” Eunice’s tone still carried an edge of patronization

  Verity lifted her chin, but kept her smile relaxed. “It’s Turnabout that’s lucky Mr. Cooper moved here, don’t you think?”

  Eunice’s smile slipped momentarily, then came back in full force. “Of course. Well, I won’t keep you from, well, from wherever you were headed.”

  Verity ignored Eunice’s not-so-subtly buried question and moved on.

  For a moment neither she nor Mr. Cooper said anything. What was he thinking? Had he been put off by Eunice’s clumsy comments?

  “It strikes me that Mrs. Ortolon is nothing like her niece.”

  Verity swung her gaze around to meet his. The words had been uttered in an idle tone, as if he’d been remarking on the weather, but there was a definite glint of amusement in his eyes.

  She matched his impassive expression. “You mean she’s shorter and has a brassier voice?”

  “Exactly.”

  They shared a grin, and for a moment Verity felt an unfamiliar emotion tugging at her, an emotion she decided not to examine too closely.

  When they reached the churchyard, Verity swept a hand out. “Will this do?”

  “It seems quiet enough.”

  By which she knew he meant there was no one around to hear him sing. This little touch of insecurity, and the vulnerability that it lent to such an otherwise strong man, actually seemed quite endearing.

  “Would you like to sit on the steps?” he asked.

  His question brought her thoughts back to the here and now. “Actually, this may sound strange, but what if we stroll through the cemetery?” She could see she’d startled him. “I promise I’m not being morbid. I’ve just always thought it was such a peaceful, beautiful place, especially on a bright spring day like today. But if it makes you uncomfortable—”

  “Not at all. Lead the way.”

  * * *

  Nate strolled beside her, wondering again at her unexpectedness, at how she could so enchant him without any obvious effort. The man who’d been her husband had been a lucky fellow.

  She led him through the gate and then around the perimeter until they came to a large oak. There were two simple wooden benches, one on each side of the tree. She turned to him with a smile. “How’s this?”

  “It’ll do.” Actually, with her smiling at him like that, he would have agreed to sing in the middle of Main Street.

  She took a seat on one of the benches, then looked up at him expectantly. “Well, then, teach me.”

  He cleared his throat and launched into the song, singing the first verse and chorus at a respectable volume. His reward when he was done was an absent, inwardly focused glance from his pupil.

  “I think I have it,” she said. “If you’ll go over it again, I’ll try to sing along.”

  With a nod he started again. She immediately added her voice to his. The sound of their voices together both startled and pleased him.

  When they were done, she grimaced. “I mangled a few notes. Let’s try it one more time.”

  He hadn’t noticed her mangling anything, but he decided he could do this all day. He started again and this time when she joined in her voice was stronger, surer. And to his surprise, rather than copying him this time, she sang harmony, playing with some of the notes, making it up right there on the spot. And it sounded amazing. The beauty of their joined voices was something he could listen to forever.

  When they were finished this time, she clapped her hands in pure joy. “Oh, that was fun. The kids are going to love this song.”

  Right now, it was his favorite, as well.

  “I’ll definitely need your help teaching it to the children, but at least now I feel like I can hold my own with it.” She straightened. “Now, I’m sure you’re eager to get back to your shop.”

  Not particularly, but he knew a dismissal when he heard one.

  She led him out a different way than the one they’d taken earlier. Rather than following the perimeter, she silently led him on a winding path between the headstones.

  Then she paused and placed her hands lightly on a pair of side-by-side headstones. “These are my parents,” she said softly. “I like to stop by and say hello whenever I’m here.”

  He studied her bittersweet expression. “Have they been gone long?”

  “They passed when I was five. Uncle Grover and Aunt Betty raised me.”

  “It was good that you had someone to take you in.”

  She removed her hands from the headstones and smiled up at him. “They were great substitute parents—I never doubted I was loved.”

  But she was still studying her parents’ graves pensively.

  “Do you remember them?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Not a lot, of course, but images, emotions. I loved my mother, but I adored my father.”

  He could tell be the faraway look in her eyes that she was remembering another time and place.

  “He was bigger than life, always full of energy, and he seemed to live to make me and Mother happy.”

  “Sounds like quite a man.”

  “He was. He had a way of making everything we did seem like fun. And he liked to take Mother on what he called adventuring—take hikes, camp out in the woods, canoe on water rapids, climb peaks—anything that seemed new or exciting. I have great memories of the two of them laughingly setting off on what looked, to my five-year-old self, like really fun excursions.”

  Her smile had a faraway quality to it. “They included me occasionally, in what I now know were the tamer of these outings.” She touched the little scar near her lip. “I got this on one of the camping trips. Father said it was my badge of honor, the proof that I was an adventurer like him and mother.”

  “Did their death occur on one of these adventures?”

  She nodded. “It was a hot air balloon.”

  Realizing what must have happened, Nate immediately held up his hand. “There’s no need to tell me the details.”

  She seemed not to hear him. “I stood on the ground with a family friend and watched the balloon go up with them in the basket below. They both blew me kisses and then turned and kissed each other. They looked so happy and my only thought was that I wanted very badly to be with them.” She paused a moment. “Then, when they were so far up that I could no longer distinguish them, the balloon caught fire in a big whoosh. It was over almost before the woman who was holding my hand fainted and hit the ground.”

  He quickly reached for her hand, wanting to offer her what comfort he could. “Verity, I’m so, so sorry that happened to you. That must have been horrific to see.”

  Her gaze slowly lost its unfocused quality and she smiled at him. “As you yourself said, Uncle Grover and Aunt Betty were really wonderful. Uncle Grover blamed my father’s reckless, impulsive nature for getting my mother—his sister—killed, but he never held that against me. And anyway, I’m nothing like my father. I lack his thirst for adventure.”

  And then she seemed to suddenly realize he was holding her hand. Her cheeks pinkened and gaze dropped.

  He gave her hand a quick squeeze and then released it. But he didn’t apologize. Mainly because he wasn’t sorry.

  Did she also realize he’d called her by her first name? Because she certainly hadn’t objected.

  Then he struck an idle tone as he prepared to do a little more probing. “Is your former husband buried here, as well?”

  She didn’t seem put out by the question. She merely shook her head. “Arthur is buried in Kansas, beside his first wife.”

  So she had been the man’s second wife. “Do you mind if I ask you what sort of man he was?”

  She started walking again, and for a moment he thought
she wasn’t going to answer. He didn’t blame her—it was something he had no right to ask.

  Then she spoke up. “I don’t mind. In fact, Arthur deserves to be remembered and spoken of from time to time.”

  There was a fondness in her voice, and some sense of reflection, as well.

  “Arthur was a fine, decent man,” she continued. “He was a good doctor, and a respected member of the community where we lived. And he absolutely adored Joy.”

  “Did he have an adventurous streak like your father?”

  She smiled at that. “I’m afraid not. For one thing Arthur was somewhat older, nearly fifteen years my senior. And he had a more analytical approach to life, a trait that served him well in his work as a doctor.”

  But how had it served him in his role as a husband? Had he been dispassionate and analytical there, as well?

  Nate didn’t press her any further. But he did find it odd that she never once spoke of loving him.

  * * *

  Verity lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling, going over the events of the day. Singing a duet with him had been such an amazing, exhilarating experience. It had felt...exciting. And fun. And, oh, so right. Almost as if their voices had been created specifically to complement each other.

  Which was a totally ridiculous, fanciful thought.

  Was that why she’d told him about her parents? A lot of people around here knew the story, of course, but she’d never spoken of it to anyone before.

  The way he’d taken her hand, and looked at her with that sincere sympathy in his compelling blue eyes had been both comforting and affirming. His hands holding hers—strong, callused hands, hands that belonged to both a craftsman and a pianist—had made her feel both safe and empowered.

  Which she supposed was why she had spoken so freely about Arthur today. Strange, but, except for the conversations she sometimes had with Joy, she’d spoken of her former husband more in that short discussion with Mr. Cooper than she had since she’d returned to Turnabout.

  But even without Mr. Cooper’s questions, she’d found herself ruminating on her marriage. Because telling him about her memories of her parents had had her making some comparisons with her own life.

  Arthur had been a good husband to her and she’d been quite fond of him. She’d admired him, too. He’d been predictable, responsible and even-tempered. He was everything she’d told herself she wanted in a husband.

  But thinking today of the all-encompassing, zestful love she’d witnessed between her own parents, she realized that she and Arthur had never shared anything like what her parents had. And she wondered now what it would be like to experience such a love.

  She rolled over on her side and hugged her pillow. Arthur had never shared her love of music, either. Singing together with Mr. Cooper today, however, had been a surprisingly emotional experience. The way their voices had blended and intertwined, the look in his eyes as their gazes locked together—she’d never experienced that kind of connection before. It had been altogether addictively exhilarating.

  Had Mr. Cooper felt the same thing?

  And he’d called her by her first name. That had to mean something.

  Didn’t it?

  Chapter Twelve

  Verity nodded her thanks to Nate—that’s how she thought of him now, even if she still used the more formal Mr. Cooper when she said his name aloud.

  The two of them had just finished singing all three selected songs for the children. She had enjoyed singing with him today every bit as much as she had yesterday. Once Zella returned, would he consider joining the choir? It would be nice to sing alongside him every Sunday. Would the experience be the same as part of a larger group?

  But right now it was time to focus on the gathered group of sixteen children. “So what do you all think? Doesn’t that sound like a great program?”

  Her question was met with mostly smiles and nods, but she also made note of the few who looked doubtful.

  “Today we’re going to focus on practicing ‘Jesus Loves Me.’” That was the easiest and the one most familiar to the children. Hopefully it would help build the confidence of those who were feeling a bit overwhelmed.

  “But we all already know that one, Mrs. Leggett,” Derbin said.

  “But do you know all four verses?”

  “There’s four verses?”

  “There are.” She looked around to include all the children in her remarks. “And I have an idea about how to perform this so that every one of you has an opportunity to really be heard.”

  The children leaned forward slightly. She noticed that even Nate raised a brow at that.

  “Since there are sixteen of you, and the song has four verses, I’m going to divide you up into four groups of four singers each, and each group will be responsible for one of the verses.”

  “Do we get to pick which team we’re on?”

  Verity grinned at Jack’s question. “No, Mr. Cooper and I will be figuring out the teams.” She held up a finger. “But first, let’s sing the first verse, the one all of you know, all together so I can get a feel for each of your voices.”

  She glanced toward Nate and without her saying a word he took his place at the piano. She turned back to the children. “Form a line here in front of me, oldest to youngest.”

  The kids scrambled to do as she asked. There was a little bit of giggling and rearranging as they figured out relative ages. Finally they were settled.

  “Okay, now, stand up straight.” She nodded to Nate. He played a short intro and then went right into the melody. She sang with them the first time, walking back and forth in front of them. When they got to the end, she nodded. “Sing it again, please.”

  This time she didn’t sing along, but rather listened to each of the children in turn, assessing the strength of their voices and their ability to carry a tune.

  When they were done for the second time, she smiled and nodded. “Well done. Let me discuss this with Mr. Cooper for a few minutes and then we’ll form your groups.” She moved to stand next to him at the piano bench.

  “I want to put the four youngest together,” she said. “They know the first verse really well and this will give them an opportunity to be heard rather than hidden behind the older ones. And I’m sure their parents will appreciate giving them a bit of the limelight, as well.”

  “That sounds like a good plan.”

  “As for the others, I think grouping them by voice range would be best, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “But you also want to be sure you don’t group all the weakest singers together, regardless of range.”

  “Agreed.” She made a few mental adjustments to her thoughts on the groupings, then signaled him to follow her as she turned back to the children.

  “Okay, here we go. When I call your name, stand together with your group. Group one—Molly, Joey, Robbie and Joy. Group two—Mina, Jack, Peter and Alice. Group three—Harriet, Cora Ann, Susie and Derbin. And that leaves Becky, Mary Ellen, Fern and Kevin for group four.”

  She waited until all the children had arranged themselves into their groups, then spoke again. “As I said, each group will learn one of the verses to sing. But all of you will sing the chorus together. Now, I’ve written down the words for each verse.” She began passing the pages around, one sheet per group. “I want each group to pick a corner of the church and go there to practice your part. In about thirty minutes we’ll get back together and try to run through the whole thing.”

  Responding to her glance, Nate stepped forward. It was really nice to work with someone who seemed to be so in tune with her thoughts.

  “If you’ll work with group one—” she pointed to the youngest children “—I’ll work with group two.” She figured the older children could probably handle this one on their own. Fern Tucker was in group four a
nd Derbin Greene was in group three. Both were good singers and good kids—they’d be able to lead the others.

  She’d given Nate the youngest group to work with mainly because Joy was in it. She figured it would be better for everyone if she didn’t work with her own daughter. And since the children were already familiar with the words and melody to this one, his biggest challenge would be making sure they all started and ended the song at the same time.

  She forced her focus away from him and his group and onto her group. Since they were not as familiar with the second verse as they were with the first, they had to go through it a couple of times before the children were comfortable singing it through by memory. Once they had that down, she focused on their timing and harmonizing.

  Finally, it was time to pull them all back together. “Okay, everyone, let’s gather back in the front here. And this time when you line up, do it by groups. Group one stand here, then group two next to them and so forth. Mr. Cooper, if you’d return to the piano.”

  Once they were all in place, she gave them a big smile. “From what I heard coming from your groups, it sounds like everyone is ready. So, let’s try it together. Remember, each verse will be sung by only one group, but you will all sing the chorus together each time.”

  She waited for their nods before continuing. “One other thing before we start. I’m going to use a few hand signals to communicate with you during the performance. When I do this—” she held up a hand, palm out “—that means to stand up straight and focus on me. When Mr. Cooper plays the introduction, I will give you a countdown as so.” She held up three fingers, one at a time. “And then when I do this—” she jabbed her index finger out in an aggressive pointing motion “—that means start singing. And when I do this—” she made a sweeping motion with her hand “—that means everyone join in. So keep your eye on me, okay?” She held up a hand and they all came to attention.