He lowers his hands.
Drops his gaze.
Then says, “Get in the driver's seat. This might take a while.”
~ ~ ~
After two hours of practicing my driving, I'm beyond frustrated and I've come to learn something else about Elijah.
He's a very patient man.
Slipping his fingers around my wrist, he positions my hand on the gear shifter thing in the middle area of the car. I'm still learning the terminology of what parts of the car are called and I can't quite remember what he called it. With his hand still on mine, he shifts the car into reverse. “Now ease up off the gas pedal and back up slowly,” he instructs. “And use your mirrors.”
I hesitate because I'm terrified of doing something wrong. “Ugh,” I moan, checking the mirrors.
Elijah squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Relax. I'll guide you through everything.”
Relax.
Ha!
That's a lot easier said than done when you're handling a vehicle that weighs over a ton for the first time ever. Also, because feeling his flesh against mine is sending my heart into an erratic wave of beats. I swallow hard and swear I can feel my organ pulsating in my throat.
It takes me a few minutes to regain my composure and once I do, I check the distance to the dirt road behind me, and then ease my foot off the gas pedal. The car begins moving at a turtle's pace and then Elijah says, “Now turn the wheel to the right, but not sharply. Go easy.” Turning the wheel, slowly, as instructed, I back the car up, slowly. Just before I'm on the dirt road Elijah says, “Okay, now straighten the wheel, hit the brake, and put the car in park.” I follow his instruction to the very last word and when I finally put the car in park, gratification explodes in my chest. There's a smile on my lips that won't disappear. An eagerness inside of me that is bouncing around the pit of my stomach.
And I can't even describe how it feels to know I've done something right for the first time in my life.
Years.
I spent years believing that I couldn't do anything right. I shouldn't have let Daddy's harsh words convince me otherwise.
Now, I know better.
Chapter Twenty Four
~After~
Sometimes I watch Elijah when he doesn’t know I’m watching him. This is mostly because I’m fascinated, captivated, and mesmerized by him.
I discover little things about him daily as the weeks pass. He hums at random. Whether he’s reading the mail, or looking over the morning paper. The little joyful vibration that leaves his vocal chords makes me smile whenever I hear it. I discover that he’s not all cold and sometimes he does small things for me that let me know otherwise. Yesterday, he left a bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers on the dining room table with a note. That note said; I thought these would brighten your day. Vibrant oranges, yellows, and purples stared back at me from the crystal vase and I placed my nose against the blossoms, inhaling the outdoorsy, floral scent.
I’ve also put together another piece to the Elijah Watson puzzle. There are times at night where he disappears when we’re sitting in the living room together. But it’s not until I’m in bed at night that I hear it—the music. Classical music.
When I hear it bleed through the walls of my bedroom, I can’t decipher on wh
ether he’s actually playing an instrument or just has the station on the radio turned up to an extremely high volume.
Tonight is no different.
I lie in bed, alert, straining to hear the beautiful music as it unfurls from the left wing of the house and trails down the hall. A stringed instrument weeps haunting melodies and even though I tell myself I shouldn’t go looking for where it’s coming from, I do anyway.
My bedroom is on the right wing of the house. Elijah’s rooms are on the left. I know that he separated us on purpose. I know he like his privacy and I don’t like to intrude, but I can’t help it. Not when it comes to this.
I’ve always had a soft spot for classical music. I can’t really explain why, but I can say that sneaking and listening to the classical station on the radio while Daddy was at work got me through my darkest of days. The overwhelming sensation that music implants in my soul is something I know I’ll cherish for the rest of my life.
The song flitting down the wide corridor is Canon in D by Johann Pachelbel.
And hearing it, as faint as it is, takes my breath away.