I didn’t want it to be true, but the men attacking him in the parking lot had shaken me. I’d thought it was different here, but maybe I was wrong. Emerson Pass was growing larger. New residents arrived at least once a month. People who didn’t understand the principles my father had instilled here. “Cym said Paris is very progressive. They don’t treat people badly who look different or have different tastes in…things…that we do here in America."
He tapped his foot against mine. “It’s all right. You’ll do fine on your own. You don’t need me.”
“I’ll miss you too much to go,” I said. “I’ll tell Papa no.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His voice was as soft as the breeze that tousled my curls. “You must go.”
“I’ll stay here with you. I don’t want to go, but I feel guilty thinking otherwise. Why can’t anyone see that I’m perfectly content right here at home?”
He’d gone still and quiet, as he did sometimes, as if he lived in another world for moments at a time, only to return to me reluctantly.
“You will go,” he said. “To give up the opportunity would be…” He shook his head.
“What?”
“It would be a travesty. This is a chance of a lifetime. Especially for a young woman. You must take it. Even though I’ll be lost without you.”
“I don’t want to be away from you,” I said.
“You’ll have such a grand time that you’ll forget all about me.”
My heart ached at the wistful tone in his voice. “I wish you could come with me. You could take classes, too, if you wanted. Cym says jazz clubs are all over Paris.”
He spread his hands over his knees. “I can’t go. That’s all there is to it. You understand about family, Fiona. I know you do.”
A flicker of bitterness made me want to strike out at him. I snuffed it out before I said anything hurtful. Li was needed here. His grandmother relied on him. I was selfish to think he could just up and leave simply because I wanted him to join me. “I’m a brat. I shouldn’t have asked.” No one understood about familial loyalty more than me. “I’ll not say another word about it. It was unfair of me to ask.”
“I hate to disappoint you. It’s my least favorite thing in the world.”
“Don’t. You’re always good and loyal, looking after me and your grandmother. You never complain, even though I’ve probably been a burden to you.” I was feeling worse by the second, wallowing in my despair and unrequited feelings, like picking at a scab better left alone. “How could I blame you for wanting me to go just to get rid of me for a while?” I said this lightly, as if my heart weren’t breaking.
He spoke slowly, as if speaking to a dim-witted pet. “Fiona, I want you to go because it’s a wonderful opportunity for you, not because I want to be rid of you. What a thing to say. Looking after you is my privilege.”
I leapt up and turned on him, glaring at him from the bottom step. “I’m not a child or a pet. It’s not looking after that I need from you. It’s companionship and understanding and…and—” I cut myself off before I said anything more to embarrass myself.
His expression of befuddlement might have tickled me had I not been so miserable. “What in the dickens has gotten into you? I do understand you. I’m right here—where I’ve always been and always will be.”
“I’m in love with you.” I spat the words out as if they were bullets from a gun. “That’s what’s gotten into me.” Tears flowed down my cheeks, probably ruining my powder and rouge, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered without Li. “I’ve loved you for years now. I do everything I can to draw your attention—to make you fall in love with me—but still you think of me as a child, or maybe I’m unlovable.”
He continued to stare at me, motionless and quiet during my unhinged diatribe. His skin glowed under the moon. His dear, dear face. How I wanted to take it into my hands and feel the fine bones, memorize them with my musical fingers as I did the keys on a piano.
Finally, he spoke, slowly, seeming to deliberate over every word. “I do not think of you as a child. Contrary to your thinking, I find you to be the wisest among us most of the time. You’re special, not only to me but to everyone you know. But you must forget about this idea of us as anything other than best friends.”
“But why?” I hiccupped, trying to get control of my embarrassing sobs. What was wrong with me? If he’d had any romantic inclination toward me, I was surely ruining it by acting unstable and emotional.
He took his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me. “Because it’s best for you. You’ve not yet been exposed to the type of men who would be a good match—men who would make a proper husband. Which I’m not and will never be. I’m your musical partner, and we’re lucky to have that.”
“Lucky? How are we lucky?” I dabbed at my cheeks, but the gesture was useless. The tears kept coming. For so long I’d held in my feelings, and now they erupted from me without ceasing.
“Because in many places in the world we would not be allowed to perform together, let alone be friends. This notion of yours is simply that. A notion.”
“It’s not an idea. It’s a feeling. One inside here.” I tapped my chest. “One that can’t be pushed aside. Not when you feel things as I do.” The world wasn’t made for me. I was too much. Too sensitive, too full of love. It was only my family whom I could love like this. No man would ever know what to do with me. I’d have to pour it all into my music for the rest of my life. I would go to Paris and make a new life. Maybe I would never come back. Even as the thought came to me, I dismissed it. I could never leave my family. Not for long, anyway. But going away might be the best thing I could do now.
His expression softened. “You deserve a man of your own kind. Not one like me, who would put you in danger merely by being your husband. Have you told anyone about your feelings for me?” He tented his hands under his chin.
“Yes.” Another sob rose up from my chest. “My brothers and sisters. No one else.”
He bowed his head. Glossy black hair fell over his forehead, covering his face.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “But I have no secrets from them.”
“Perhaps you should.” He spit this out in small, nasty bites. I’d obviously made him very angry. “Honestly, you’re going to get yourself in trouble. Promise me you’ll say nothing about this to anyone else. Go to Paris. Go live the life you’re supposed to have, and put me out of your mind.”