Which hands were those? Ten generations ago?
“It took half a lifetime to plan and gather the materials, learn the necessary skills for constructing what I envisioned. I couldn’t do it all by myself—some things just need more hands—but I worked so hard on it. When it was complete, I was an old man and my fingers ached from all that I’d done to create this thing, but when I touched the keys and played the first notes, it was so beautiful. So wonderful. Even now, I can almost hear the echoes of music from centuries ago.”
I leaned my cheek against the smooth wood of the harp and let my hands rest on my knees. The music faded.
He watched me with dark, haunted eyes, his damp hair pressed against his skin. Anguish shone raw on his face: the strained set of his mouth, the way he made breathing look like the hardest thing in the world.
“I didn’t make other people’s pianos. I gave the construction plans to people who could do a better job. I’m a musician, nothing else. But I was proud of that piano.”
“Nothing I say will help.” I lowered my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Your music helped.” He reached as though to touch my arm, but I couldn’t stop remembering what he’d suggested before we came in and found the parlor. He wanted me to leave. He wouldn’t have suggested it unless he meant it.
I pulled away from him; I had to protect what was left of my heart, too. “The temple books are gone,” I said, standing up. “And Menehem’s research.”
Sam said nothing.
“Stef isn’t answering her SED. I went over there to see her, but she’s gone.”
He dropped his gaze. “She probably decided to wait out the snowstorm with another friend. I doubt she felt welcome here.”
“Because you two were fighting.” About me. Did that make it my fault? “She should have answered her SED, anyway. I called a million times and left a million messages.”
He clenched his jaw. “She’s angry with me. Maybe she’s ignoring you by association.”
I doubted that was it, but I wished he were right. Stef avoiding me was better than Stef being missing.
“We’ve been at such odds lately.” He dragged in a deep breath. “I thought she would be happy I was happy. I don’t understand why she’s been acting like this.”
Really? He didn’t understand? How could someone with so much history and experience be so oblivious?
I’d reached the end of what I could take. Every piece of me felt like it was vibrating so fast it might fall off. A piano wire. A harp string. I’d spent the last day dragging off pieces of instruments I loved, too, to be sorted into scraps later. I’d frozen, seen friends killed, and Sam had asked if I wanted to leave. So what did it matter if I told him?
“She’s in love with you, Sam. Really, really in love.” My throat ached, and my heart felt dashed into a thousand pieces. “She’s jealous that you’ve spent so much time with me. She just wants you back.”
He was shaking his head. “No. We’ve had relationships in the past, but nothing like you mean. She can’t.”
“Because you said?” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t get to say how other people feel or don’t feel. You can choose to be blind, but that doesn’t change what everyone else sees. She loves you.”
He seemed lost, like he didn’t know where we were or who I was, let alone the language I spoke.
But I’d told him. Now he had to choose what to do with the information; I’d already decided what I’d do with everything he hadn’t said. “I’ve been thinking about what you asked. I’ll go.” Speaking the words aloud made them true.
“Why? Where?”
“Li’s or Ciana’s, like you said. Maybe Sarit’s until I get my own things.” I bit my lip, wondering at what point my heart would crumble under the weight of my decision. Any second now. “I hope you don’t mind if I stay here until the snowstorm is over.”
His mouth dropped open, and he just stared for what seemed like hours. Like after the instruments, this was going to break him. I couldn’t feel bad, though. Wouldn’t. He’d suggested it. I’d have stayed forever if I thought he wanted me.
But in the hours that were really minutes, he didn’t beg me not to leave. He didn’t say he hadn’t meant it. When I stood, his gaze just followed me up. Then I was a shattered blown-glass blue rose, and every step away from him made my shards clatter and chime.
25
SNOWFALL
AS I LEFT his room, I wanted him to stop me. I wanted it so badly I could almost hear the perfect words he’d say to convince me to stay, but when I breathed, those words were lost. They’d never existed. I braced myself on the nearest shelf as my vision tunneled and faded, and up and down became the same direction. Another step. If I could just make it to my bedroom—