"You have someone who picks you up, right?" Lincoln asked as he tidied up the wrappings from the first aid supplies.
"How do you know?"
Had he been spying on me?
"I saw you getting into his car one night as I was leaving."
Oh. "Yes, I have a...a friend who comes each evening."
"You need to get your friend to detour via the hospital on your way home tonight."
"I'll be fine."
"You don't know that." He crouched in front of me again, his eyes pleading. "You play so beautifully. Don't risk that by not getting yourself checked out. Please?"
When he put it like that, how could I say no?
"Okay, I'll go."
"You promise?"
I nodded, and he smiled under his messy beard. "Good. You want me to walk you downstairs?"
My legs shook as I got up from the piano stool, and I clutched at the polished top with my good hand. Lincoln put out an arm, but stopped himself while it was a few inches away and slowly stepped backwards.
"Is that a yes?"
I nodded again, not trusting myself to speak. Something about this man brought a lump to my throat, but I didn't understand what. Feelings were like that—they crept up at the most inopportune times and left me trying to puzzle out their meaning while the world carried on without me.
Lincoln held each door open while I trudged towards the exit, exhausted from the emotions of the day. Clint raised an eyebrow at my new companion as he got out of the car to open the door for me. Then his eyes went to my wrist and widened.
"It's nothing," I said. "I just need to make a quick stop at the hospital on the way back."
"Of course, ma'am."
There was the "ma'am" again. It seemed the habit was ingrained. This time it was Lincoln's turn with the curious look, which I ignored as I slid into the backseat. Today was bad enough without trying to explain the bizarre life I led. Instead, I gave him a quick wave through the window as the car pulled off, then settled back in the seat for the ride to the emergency room.
"Uh, is there any chance you could not mention this to Emmy?" I asked Clint.
"Sorry, ma'am. She's going to find out one way or another. Better to tell her now and get it over with."
I sighed as I settled back against the soft leather. He was right. Of course he was right.
"I'll call her in the morning."
With a sore wrist and now a bulky bandage, I gave up on the idea of practising at the weekend, and after an awkward phone call to Emmy, who unsurprisingly already knew what had happened, I spent my days off playing with Hisashi. Most of the time, I was blessed to have a good baby, but he'd also inherited his father's rebellious streak, and I had a hard time convincing him that the cuddly cat Bradley had mailed to the apartment on Thursday wasn't edible.
In the end, I called Blackwood and got them to send a couple of shadows over, and we spent an almost-pleasant Sunday afternoon in the cold yet sunny park before my good arm got tired from pushing the stroller. Sure, I could have asked one of the man-mountains to assist, but requesting help never came easily to me. The therapist used fancy words and talked about my guilt complex, but I simply didn't want to take advantage of people.
By the time Monday morning rolled around, the swelling had subsided enough to take off the bandage, and I'd psyched myself up to face Jansen again.
Or at least, I thought I had.
"Where did you run off to on Friday?" he asked as soon as we got into a practice room with Jude.
"I didn't feel well."
I looked away as I said it. Even though the statement wasn't entirely untrue, I struggled with the words. Hisashi's father said that was one of the things he loved about me, that I was the only person in that disgusting place who didn't lie, and my time there had taught me that I valued the truth above all else.
"You should have said."
"Why? What would you have done?" Jude asked.
"I could have helped. If Akari felt sick, she should have let us know so we could schedule our practices accordingly."
"If she was about to puke, I doubt she was thinking of that."
"We're supposed to be working as a team here."
"Exactly, so show some sympathy."
Jude squared up to Jansen, and I stepped in to keep the peace. "I promise to keep you informed next time." I shuddered as the words left my mouth because I sincerely hoped there wouldn't be a next time. "Why don't we play the Schubert now?"
Despite my hopes, next time arrived, and sooner than I could have anticipated. I'd barely sat down in front of the piano that evening when Jansen walked in carrying his violin, except this time Jude wasn't around to stick up for me.
Jansen laid his case on the table and unsnapped the clips that held it closed. "I thought we could practise together."
"I-I-I prefer to play alone."
Jansen lifted his violin from its case and cradled it in his lap as he perched on the edge of the table. "I also need to apologise for being such a jerk this morning. It was rude of me to question you."
An apology? Really? "It doesn't matter."
"It does to me. I don't want things to be awkward between us. After all, we'll be playing together for the whole week and hopefully many more times in the future."
Something about the way he said "playing" made my stomach clench, and for a brief second, I even wished Brigitte would come back. Then I came to my senses and forced myself to smile. Like it or not, I needed to remain on good terms with Jansen to pass this course, and no matter how unpersonable he might be, there was no denying his musical ability.
"Of course. Would you mind if we just ran through the piece a time or two so I can get home for dinner?"
"What's wrong with the cafeteria here? We can grab a sandwich then carry on."
"I thought you didn't like the cafeteria?"
"The food is unpalatable, yes, but we've lost too much time to waste more finding a restaurant."
"Someone's cooking for me."
Jansen's smile turned into a scowl. "This recital is important, and Jude's already demonstrated his lack of commitment. Do you want to fail as well?"
"No, but... Maybe we could practice again tomorrow evening?"
"We should play together every evening."
I almost told him about Hisashi, but it wasn't right to use my son as an excuse for my lack of work. The dean already had questioned at the interview whether I could cope with my small family as well as my education, and I if I wanted to succeed, I needed to learn to manage both.
"I'm still not feeling a hundred percent."
"Well, we'll have to make do with ninety. Luckily, one of us has the skill and tenacity to make it at this place."
Skill and tenacity perhaps, but not empathy. What happened to compassion? Did it get muffled by his over-inflated ego? I almost snapped, but I bit my tongue and counted to ten instead. Maybe Jansen was right, albeit rude as well. I did need to ace this recital, and so I needed to practise.
"Okay, each evening until the recital." Even as I said it, thoughts of Hisashi made my breath hitch. "Shall we meet here?"
When he nodded, he displayed teeth a shade too white to be natural and smoothed his hair back.
"Good. At least two out of the three of us want to pass. I'll need to work on Jude tomorrow. Shall we start?"
I couldn't get my hands on the keys fast enough. I'd got through the first four bars before Jansen caught up, and I didn't pause until the end.
"You need to slow down," he said. "The piece was written to be played more smoothly."
"Sorry, I guess I'm just tired."
I willed myself to play steadily as we started from the beginning, but my fingers kept getting ahead of Jansen's steady beat. If I rushed like that on the day of the recital, my grade would be terrible, but my subconscious was convinced that the faster I played, the quicker I could get away from a man whose dedication to the cause rivalled an Olympic athlete's.
"Better, but you're still speeding through the middle part. Let's go again from the top of the second page."
My eyelids drooped, and two of each note swam across my vision. "How about we call it a night? I promise to be more alert tomorrow."
"Quitters never win, Akari."
Surely even winners needed to eat and sleep at some point? I forced my mouth shut as it attempted a yawn of its own accord and tried to focus on the music.
"Good evening, don't mind me."
Jansen's eyes flashed with anger as Lincoln walked in, pushing a cleaning cart.
"We're playing in here. Can't you clean someplace else?"
"This is the last room, I'm afraid. I'll make sure I keep quiet." He took out a soft broom and started sweeping.
Jansen turned to me, still looking far from thrilled. "Fine, let's stop for today. I can't concentrate with him in here. We can do extra tomorrow."
"Great."
Was a bout of food poisoning too much to hope for? Or perhaps a short-lived virus?
With jerky movements, Jansen packed his violin back into its velvet-lined case then stomped out without so much as a goodbye. Not that I minded—as long as he was gone, I couldn't complain.
"Hope you didn't stop on my accord," Lincoln said.
"If I'd played for much longer, my fingers would've fallen off. I thought he'd never let me go home." The closer Lincoln got, the more my stomach fluttered, but not from worry this time. "You arrived at just the right time."
"Bit pushy, is he?" He leaned his broom against the cart and came over, stopping a few feet away.
"He just wants us to get a good grade."
"Surely you'd get a better grade by taking a rest and eating properly? It's almost nine o'clock."
Oh heck, that last hour flew by so fast I'd hardly noticed it. I owed Sofia a huge apology. Although she said staying on after her regular hours wasn't a problem, I hated the thought of exhausting her as well. If Jansen kept this up, I'd have to consider employing a second nanny to do the evening shift. Mind you, even the idea of that filled me with sadness. Hisashi was my son. I should be the one looking after him, not a stranger, no matter how sweet she was.
"You're right. I need to get home."
"Want me to walk you out? You look as if you're about to nod off."
"I'll be okay. I don't want to keep you any later either."
"It's no trouble."
"Honestly, I'll be all right. Although if you happen to interrupt again tomorrow, I'll give you a medal."
He gave me a wink as I picked up my bag and started for the door.
"Consider it done."