There is talk of money in this chapter. It's probably not very accurate- I'm completely guessing as to what would be considered wealthy at the time, mainly by watching Pride and Prejudice and rereading HMS Surprise. Just thought I'd warn you...
This chapter is dedicated to my violin- I neglect her for a third of the year and she still plays as beautifully as ever when I do set the bow to the string. I wish I knew more people as forgiving as she is.
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Chapter Eight
Equilibrium
in which peace is found and shattered
Stephen woke alone with the sun warm on his body. He floated in a haze, trying to remember when Cora had left him and why he'd woken. The first he had no answer for- the second made itself apparent with time.
"Stephen! Where have you gotten to?" Jack's booming sea voice sounded rather close.
"In here, Jack." Stephen called back, struggling to open his eyes and forcing himself to sit up. He didn't bother rearranging the sheets to hide himself more before Jack found his way in at last.
"Whatever are you doing in here, my dear?" He was asking when he came in. That answer made itself apparent too. Jack flushed a bit under Stephen's apathetic gaze and nearly stammered his next sentence out. "I told some of the lads at the party last night that you played the 'cello most excellently. They wanted us to give them a bit of a concert some time before we left, so they hunted down a 'cello for you. I brought it to your room, but..."
"Yes, well. As in our last meeting I imagine there are very few people who don't know what happened." He felt vaguely disconcerted by the notion and a shadow of the feeling crossed his face. "I should be beyond this adolescent urge. I'm getting too old for this sort of tryst."
"Don't be upset, soul," Jack said. "You love her, and that's that. Although I must admit it is rather amusing to think of you as the captain's boy, ha ha."
"If you're going to utter such terrible and tasteless jokes as that in my presence, I suggest very strongly that you go and find me some coffee. Directly."
Jack was still laughing when he walked away, and to prevent anymore comments of the like he made sure he was dressed before his friend returned with the coffee and some breakfast. He felt a little less like strangling him after he'd cleared the tray.
"Have you seen Cora?" He asked when he was done.
"No, I haven't. I imagine she has a great deal to do after so long an absence."
"Indeed. And Dominic?"
"He went with Anamaria to the docks to see the Limerick and the Deliverance refitted, I believe. It's just the two of us. Should you like to play, old soul?"
They went back to Jack's airy seaside room and played and played until they were lost in all the sounds and the smell of the nearby sea.
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When Cora neared the top of the cliff behind her house she looked back down into the beach below her. She'd been unable to find what she was looking for when she left Stephen's warmth and his faint, endearing snores to pace across its small length. She couldn't escape the feeling that had tormented her since she woke- that she hadn't quite come home yet.
She stood amid the flotsam and jetsam of the party and gazed up at the house. The walls needed a fresh coat of paint and the verandah repairs. She was so engrossed in finding what was amiss with it, what caused this feeling inside her, that she didn't notice the deep groan of the cello until it staggered and cut off. A low, questioning voice and a curse- the bow had caught on the string.
She walked in the back door smiling to herself and was heading in the direction of the stairway, intending to sit outside Jack's room and enjoy the concert unseen, when she heard a familiar thump coming towards her.
"Beg pardon, Miss Turner." Jonas sounded uneasy. "I know yesterday was quite busy and I'm sure you're very glad to be home, but I'm afraid I must show you the accounts now."
"I have no worries, Jonas. I'm certain you've kept everything in order."
"I was certain that I had too."
Her pace quickened and she reached the library before he did. The room was never very large but her fast pulse made it seem even closer, like she was in danger of grazing her head on the ceiling. An old desk, made of the planking from a ship the Running had caught once and from a pair of her own broken spars, took up most of the space. The leather bound legers were spread across it, their cream pages filled with Jonas's neat, cramped script.
"When was the last time you knew the state of your family's accounts?" Jonas asked, closing the door behind them.
"Right after Dominic was born you responded to my letter saying that everything was under control here. You didn't want to give me an exact number because you were still reckoning all our possessions, but you said that my family's fortune was larger than my parents had let on."
"And I never sent you any exact number afterwards?"
"Not in my memory."
"That's just as well. I don't want you to harbor any illusions."
"Be straight with me, Jonas. I'm frightened now."
He gestured with one elegant hand to the last line of the ledger. Cora bent close to it and read the sum of £10,000.
"Is that including the house and the Deliverance?"
"No. That is the last reckoning your grandfather made of the various goods and money he had hidden away for the family's security. You had around another £10,000 in addition to this."
"Had?"
"Times were hard here, Miss Turner," He said apologetically. "People slowly stopped coming in our harbor to trade when Normandy fell apart. Then the Navy started hanging about here and trade ceased altogether. We haven't got much room for people to grow food of their own. I had to spend a great deal of money having ships protected so they could sail in here with our necessary supplies, let alone the cost of feeling the entire town.
"Then we started hearing rumors of the Fraternité. She was moving steadily closer to us. When the rumors became strong enough that she was going to attack Alameade I had to hire two mercenary ships to protect us. It was absolute extortion, and then the privateer didn't even show her ugly French face."
"So all we have left is this £10,000 that Grandfather left behind?"
"...the only reason I felt safe spending the kind of money I did is because I believed that we did have the £10,000. It's mentioned only as a footnote- £10,000 in safe, to be kept there until emergency -in Caylyn's ledgers. But when I went to the safe last night to see what exactly he'd saved there... it was empty."
Cora sat down slowly behind the desk, numb with disbelief.
"We have nothing?"
"In the material sense, yes. But we still have this house, and the people of the town won't hesitate to help us however they can."
"They're barely getting by themselves. How can I ask them to support Dominic and I too?"
"You still have the Deliverance." He said in his quite gentleman's way, too delicate to state his idea outright.
"I carry the pardon Jack Aubrey wrote me seven years ago with me every day, Jonas Sewell, to remind myself that I have left that life behind." She sighed and raked a hand through her hair. "I'll just have to keep doing what I did while I was staying in Port Royal. I'm sure I can find a merchant who needs a ship or an escort for one. Maybe I'll just have to start asking for whatever it was you paid those mercenaries. A mercenary is one step short of a pirate. Maybe I'll be able to live with that."
She left Jonas without taking his leave, too shaken by what she'd realized. She didn't feel as if she'd come home because the home she'd thought she was coming to didn't exist. She'd expected to find her family's estate in tact. She was going to start sending inquiries about a good teacher for Dominic- he was so much brighter than she'd ever been, he deserved a good education before he rushed off into the Navy. She was going to try and learn to play the violin again. Now she would have to go back to the endless monotony of the last seven years. She would have to take Dominic back out there, keep him from the home she'd promised him and put him in harm's way, because the moment he came squalling out of her and the midwife lay him in her arms she'd sworn she would never do to him what her mother had done to her.
She couldn't mention this to anyone. Both Finn and Stephen would immediately offer themselves as alternatives to destitution. With Finn, the proposition would be heartfelt but laughable. His state was likely little better than her own; like the truest of all pirates, his money was no sooner in his hands than he spent it. She would find a sort of joy living with him; it wouldn't mean marriage or even sex. He would take her in like a bird fallen from its nest, and it was possible that somewhere down the road she would begin to love him at long last. With Stephen, the proposition almost frightened her.
She couldn't decide now. She'd promised Jack and Stephen two weeks, and she would keep that promise. Then she could go back to Port Royal and let him walk away from her again. She couldn't imagine him doing anything else. She already resented him for it at the same time that she longed to walk up the stairs and collapse and lose herself in him again. She ignored the impulse. She would go back to Port Royal, where she'd begun, and begin again.
There was a lull in upstairs concert, and Jack's merry laughter filled the void, Stephen's strange creak joining and sharing the joy of a slipped finger. Then they resumed, and the violin stretched for its upper ranges, a high sad sound like a child crying alone in the dark.
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Jack and Stephen played the greater part of the morning away until Jack felt the need to sniff around the kitchen, incurring the wrath of its guardian Gibbs. They were expelled from the house and left to rove the island with money in their pockets in search of food.
Half the island seemed to be made of the hill that the Starre house perched on top of. Perhaps another quarter of it was the town, a little community with one church, a schoolhouse, an open market and the harbor. The other quarter was comprised of fields, ripening steadily now. It wasn't a particularly loud or busy place, and not nearly as squalid as a pirate's haven would be thought of. The people were gracious and friendly, and many of them recognized Jack and Stephen from the party. They eagerly shared their food with them and laughed at the tale of Gibbs' anger.
"He's had to be tough. He had to keep Jack Sparrow and two adolescent girls away from that kitchen!"
Everywhere they went there were stories of the Starre family and their pirate brethren, told like folk stories already passing into legend. They filled the island, even though nearly every one of them was dead.
"I'm glad to have a Starre back in that house," The woman who cooked them fish said. "Jonas has done a well enough job for us since James died, but I can't help but think that James would've gotten us through these times a little better. He had all the best of the Starres in him."
It was true that these people weren't wealthy, but it was hard to think of them as poor. There wasn't a single person on the island without a roof over their head, it seemed. None of them were plump, but there wasn't a single skeleton. There were the signs of hard times in some places: one room houses, children dressed in worn hand-me-downs. A few of the men heading for their docked boats to go fishing would glare at Jack and Stephen, and they decided as one that they were lucky James Starre had been the caretaker of Alameade for most of these people's lives, and Jonas after him. If Arlen Starre had been the ruler, they would've been dead the moment their feet touched its soil.
There were a few stories about her. She was mentioned always as Lone Star, and the name Black Wolf was never far from hers. They noticed very quickly that there were never any stories about them after their adolescent years ended. It was as if then they'd stopped existing to them. They didn't know very much about Cora, and even less about her sister Ashli.
"She was such a quiet child," One older woman said of Cora. "I don't think I ever saw her smile."
When their bellies were full, they moved at last back towards the house on the hill. They'd been reminded in the town of their obligation to put on a concert and were arguing over which pieces they should play in-between breaths as they neared the door. Jack was denouncing Beethoven as a filthy supporter of Bonaparte in his best sea voice when they stepped into the upstairs hallway, and wouldn't go anywhere near Stephen's suggestion of playing the Eroica symphony.
"He changed the dedication the moment Bonaparte was crowned emperor, Jack, it's hardly fair of you to-"
"Whatever the words on the page say, the notes were written with that arse-rag of a Frenchman in mind and I won't profane the violin playing them!"
They paused, partly because they were still catching their breath and partly because the sight of the room beside them- the room Arlen and Michael Turner had shared for years, the room Cora and Stephen had shared only last night -was something shocking. Cora sat in what appeared to be the eye of a hurricane, staring at them like a thief caught in the act. Papers, clothes, and even the large dresser in the room had been moved. Most startling was the wall panel that had been removed to reveal a passageway.
"Whatever are you doing there, Cora?" Stephen frowned as she stood, wiping her hands on her pants.
"Looking for sheet music for you, actually. My mother liked to hide things." She smiled, and he was not entirely convinced that what she said was true, despite the sheets she did hold in her hand. "Everyone is adamant about hearing the two of you play, and I must admit I'm with child to hear it myself. The preview I heard this morning was exquisite."
"Stuff and nonsense. That was only warming up." Jack smiled back as she handed him the music.
"I think these ones are some of the songs we used to sing on the ship. I'm sure there won't be a dry eye if you play some of these."
"This is the perfect way to fill some of the time we'd been quarreling over." Jack beamed. "Should you like to show us some of the pieces we don't know?"
"I hardly know them myself. I can't read music."
"Well, we shall have to remedy that. We shall teach you now."
"No, it's quite all right, really-"
"I insist upon it, Miss Turner."
Cora looked to Stephen for help, but his face remained impassive. When Jack turned to walk back towards his room she sent him a dire glare, but it only made him smile and put his arm around her waist as they followed in the captain's wake.
When Jack put the violin in Cora's arms she held it for a moment, her eyes tracing every curve, before she put it up to her shoulder and raised the bow. She did it all in one fluid motion, as if she'd lied and really had been playing it every day of the last thirteen years. She herself looked startled how natural it was for her left hand to fall into the right position, and for the bow to rest so easily in the right.
Afterwards the progress was never so easy. Cora was easily frustrated by the notes and by the way her fingers so often slid out of tune when she attempted vibrato. Jack suggested she try doing without it, but that turned out more aggravating. They still forded on, Cora seated and Jack standing just behind her, correcting her and naming the notes in a low voice- G,A,B,C- thus, very well thus- no, shift that finger a little higher- 'tis always better to have a sharp C than a flat one- you're very nearly there, Miss Turner, except that was an F natural and not a sharp...
Stephen was observing the moment, disengaged because observation required that you didn't live in the moment you observed, and so he was the first to be aware of a second sound running underneath the violin's notes. Cora was aware of it second; her bow froze on the string and she looked towards the door, where the footsteps were drawing closer. She had just enough time to stand and set the violin aside when Dominic burst into the room and wrapped himself tightly around Cora's legs.
"Momma! Why didn't you come in and wake me this morning? I've been with Anamaria all day. She took me to the ships. You should've been there yourself if you're the captain! Can you play the violin too?"
"I'm learning to again, thanks to Captain Aubrey."
"Can I try?"
"I'm afraid that violin is too big for you. Perhaps if you ask your mother nicely enough, she'll have a smaller one made for you."
It was an innocent suggestion; it was a good suggestion. But when Stephen looked to Cora to gauge her reaction fear had spread itself across her face. She met his eyes for an instant, and then it was gone.
"Momma, can I have a little violin of my own?"
"We shall see, Dom. Are you hungry?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Very well, let's go and see Gibbs then!"
"I'd be careful if I were you," Jack cautioned. "He didn't take it too kindly when Stephen and I were in his pantry, as it were."
"Don't worry. I knew Gibbs' soft spots the day I was born." Cora smiled, taking Dominic's hand. "Should you like to come with us? He might feel more inclined to feed you now."
"I shall stay here. I want to go over these pieces once more." Jack responded.
"I think I might come with you." Stephen decided, rising and joining her at the door. "I will return shortly."
Jack nodded and took up the violin once more as they left, the sound of it following them all the way down the hall.
Walking together was more awkward than they would've thought with Dominic between them. He held on to Cora's hand naturally as he gave them a detailed (if somewhat desultory) account of his entire day, but his other hand brushed Stephen's leg repeatedly, reminding him that he couldn't in all conscience do the same. He tripped once on the stairs and they both lunged to catch him, but it was Cora who hefted him into her arms and teased him about how big he'd grown.
They were on their way to the kitchen when Stephen caught sight of Anamaria approaching them. Jonas stood in the doorway she'd just vacated, and when Cora caught sight of them both she tensed very subtly.
"Stephen, could you take Dominic to the kitchen? He knows the way. I need to talk to Anamaria about how the repairs."
"Of course."
Cora kissed Dominic's forehead, making him squirm and laugh, then set him down and promised to be there to put him to bed. She smiled at Stephen too, then met Anamaria halfway across the hall. They spoke quietly for a moment, then headed for the safety of the outdoors.
"Can you show me the way to the kitchen?" Stephen asked his son when they were gone.
"Of course. Momma used to say I couldn't go in there. Once I brought a bird into the kitchen at my grandparent's house..."
Stephen didn't really listen to the rest of the story, too absorbed in the realization that the moment his mother was gone Dominic had taken his hand as if it was the most natural thing in all the world.
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Cora and Anamaria were late to dinner. They slunk in after the meal had started, both with blank faces, and sat down at their designated seats. Gibbs had threatened to lop off their heads if they were much later, but the moment he caught the look in their eyes he said nothing, keeping his thoughts to his soup. Dinner was unremarkable after their entrance, the conversation trite but amiable. Dominic attempted to recite everything Anamaria had taught him at the dock that day; Stephen dozed off when he began to describe the different types of rope they had to use. He was roused by Jack's voice asking him if they should like to go over the pieces they'd chosen just once more before they went to bed.
"I'm afraid not, my dear. I'm terribly tired; that meal sits heavy on me, most uncommonly heavy. Soup wasn't the thing for a day like today. No, I shall retire directly."
The others beat them up the stairs, and by the time Stephen made his way there he could spy Cora sitting on Dominic's bed, her back to him, speaking so softly to the little boy he wasn't even sure she was speaking at all and running her hand endlessly through his hair. Then she bent down and kissed him, doused the light, and left the room.
"I'll be amazed if he sleeps at all tonight," She admitted to Stephen as she closed the door behind her. "He's so in love with this place. All of it. He can't stop talking about his room, all the things he's found in the house, the village..."
"Is something the matter, joy?" He asked when she looked away from him, down to the floor. He caught her chin and tipped her head back to meet his eyes.
"Of course not. What makes you ask?"
"There has been something in your aspect all day. You do not seem entirely happy."
"I'm tired, that's all. It's probably your fault."
His breath rushed out in something that wasn't quite a laugh, just an expression of joy. He hadn't released her chin yet and she wrapped her hand around his wrist, tracing his pulse point with her thumb.
"Will you...?"
He paused, drew in his breath again, then nodded.
There was an utterly foreign domesticity between them as they walked down the hall, hesitated between their two bedrooms and went at last into Cora's, in the way they went to opposite sides of the bed to undress. Cora found a nightgown for herself; Stephen wore nothing at all. He crawled into the side of the bed he'd chosen just before she did. He was already half asleep when she joined him; he sensed her hovering over him.
"That's my side of the bed."
He made a noise of sleep inquiry and tried to pull her down to him- just go to sleep, the motion said.
"Ashli used to sleep on this side. I slept over there."
She succumbed at last to his tugging and lay down right beside him, on her stomach, with one arm thrown over him.
"I've never slept alone in this house." She whispered. Stephen roused himself just enough to kiss her forehead, the way she'd done Dominic's, and then the world fell away from them.
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The next four days were as close to peace as Cora and Stephen had ever been in the time they'd known each other.
The mornings were slow and lazy. They woke when the sun shined on them and then denied it was there at all. They tried to fall back asleep. Cora decided to find out if Stephen was ticklish. Stephen decided it wasn't very amusing and tried to force her to stop, only to find himself kissing her and wanting her, tasting sunlight on her lips. He'd never seen her smile quite like that before, not until he pinned her arms above her forehead with a look of pure irritation that faded too quickly for his comfort at the warmth of her beneath him and her legs shifting against his.
They went down to the town for breakfast with Jack and Dominic on two of the mornings, when everything the townspeople made was fresh and they offered it to them with open arms. Dominic made fast friends with the children there. They felt safe enough leaving him to go back to the house. For much of the morning Jack would continue his lessons with Cora, and when she'd had her fill he sat down with Stephen and practiced for their concert. The afternoons were fluid; Stephen spent time reading the books he'd brought with him, writing in his journal. Jack wrote to Sophie or went down to the harbor or fell asleep on the verandah. Cora disappeared and never mentioned where she was. They never asked.
Just before dinner they'd go down into the village and search out Dominic. On the way up the hill, and while they sat on the verandah waiting for dinner, Stephen began to teach Dominic Catalan. He thought it was strange at first, but gradually he caught on to the idea of a different language.
"Is it like a code?"
"Yes, except it's a code that a whole country understands. It's a code I learned to speak when I was even younger than you are."
Afterwards, he took it much more seriously. They'd sit in the still evening air, listening to the cries of the gulls and reciting words one after another, almost like a song.
On the fourth day, the day before the concert, two days before they were to return to Port Royal, it took them much longer than normal to find his pupil. He and some of his new friends seemed to have wandered further east on the island, towards the fields. Stephen and Cora had spent the afternoon together that day; she showed him a beach hidden behind the house, and when they went back up the cliffside she held his hand. They were still holding hands as they walked through the town, and when they found Dominic at last he took Cora's other hand. They walked back up to the house like that. As they neared the top, Dominic spoke suddenly.
"Are you my uncle?"
"No, I am not."
"I didn't think so," He said thoughtfully. "Momma never holds hands with Uncle Finn."
That night, when they lay in bed, Stephen drew Cora carefully closer to him when she was nearly asleep and whispered in her ear.
"I want to tell him, joy. I want to tell him that I'm his father."
She was rigid, instantly awake. She rolled over to face him and her eyes glistened in the dark.
"How would we even begin to tell him? Stephen, you're leaving in two days. And after that... who knows? We can't break Dom's heart like that, love."
He had to accept her reasons, as much as he felt like protesting. As she told him on the night they met Finn, they had only two weeks. There was no time for anger.
She kissed him once, lingeringly, as if in apology. Then she put her back to him once more.
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The next day was just like all the others, except for that peculiar undercurrent they all pretended they didn't feel- the insistent pull of the tide. The Deliverance was ready, all of Jack and Stephen's things were packed away in their sea chests, and Port Royal beckoned.
They did all the same things they'd done before, but they did it with extra passion. Cora progressed farther than before on her playing; she understood the scales Jack had been drilling into her and her intonation was fast returning. She could begin to remember some of the pieces she'd played as a girl.
"Perhaps you should join us tonight. Just for a song." Stephen suggested as she passed the violin off to Jack.
"No," She sighed, standing behind his chair and letting one of her hands rub his shoulder. "Tonight is your night."
She stood like that for the whole song, afraid to let him go.
This afternoon she did not disappear. She followed Stephen when he went to his room and took the book he'd picked up out of his hand and laid it aside. Without saying a word she kissed him the same way she'd touched his shoulder- unable to let go. With no 'cello to lose himself in, Stephen found the same emotion in himself.
They realized they had to dress when they heard Jack moving about the hall, and even then it was impossible to resist the urge to take each other once more with a quiet, fierce urgency, terrified he would hear and terrified to realize that it was likely the last time they would touch. Dominic shared Cora's cabin on the Deliverance. Between Alameade and Port Royal Cora would have to be the captain once more, not the lover, just as she had once asked him to stop being a doctor for only a little while. Stephen wished with all his heart that Pullings wouldn't be there when they arrived. He prayed he'd forget they existed.
The town was putting on another party for them, and when they left the house on the hill they could already hear the chatter in the square. Jack and Stephen carried their instruments towards the sound, while Cora was holding on to the change of clothes she'd brought for Dominic. She'd worn a dress at Stephen's request. He smiled as she fought not to destroy the hem on her way down. Gibbs was carrying an enormous pot of stew, which also seemed in imminent danger of disaster. He'd asked Cora to carry it, but she'd looked with mistrust into the pot.
"After the scorpion, I don't trust any of your stews anymore."
They were surrounded by swarms of people when they reached the limits of the town. Cora had recruited Finn and his sailors to bring tables down from the Starre house and some of the wealthier families had donated theirs too, creating a long row of bright, mismatched table cloths and platters of food. Jack and Gibbs headed straight for the rich scents and Cora quickly chased down Dominic, admonishing him for ruining yet another pair of breeches and trying to convince him to change into the new clothes she'd brought.
Adrift, Stephen wandered through the crowds in search of a place he could put his cello. He was pointed in the direction of the church, which lay at the end of a stone path on the southern end of the square. It was easily the wealthiest building in the town. It must've cost a great deal to send the stone to the small island and build it.
"Who worships here?" Stephen asked. Religion was never a subject he touched on with Cora. She was aware from the casual conversations they shared in the morning and evening that he was Catholic, but didn't seem bothered by it. He'd never asked about her beliefs. He was fairly certain she'd say she worshiped Neptune.
"Anyone, really. We've had missionaries from every religion here. It's open to anyone who wants it."
They left their instruments tucked carefully away on one of the oaken pews and then returned to the joyous sound of the party. Some sailors who'd already been at the rum began to sing sea chanties and Stephen joined in to those he knew. Cora caught sight of him and went to kiss his cheek at the end of one, heedless of who might see.
They waited until the food was gone to begin migrating towards the church. The light was fading, and Jack and Stephen entered just as the candelabras were being lit. Someone had rearranged the pews so that they were in a rough semi-circle facing the altar, where two chairs and two music stands were waiting. For the first time, the two old friends felt a twinge of nervousness when they went to play. Sure, a frigate of 200 men had listened to them play before, but it was quite different when the whole town was sitting right before them, looking them right in the eye.
Then once they sat down in their familiar configuration and their instruments melted to become one of them, everything was right again. The time, the place and the company didn't matter. This was the one common ground they could meet on. They shot off in a whirl into the stirring opening of the Boccherini they'd chosen. La Musica Notturna Delle Strade di Madrid, the happiest song they knew.
The last song was one they found at the bottom of the stack of music Cora gave them. It had no title and no composer. It was written only for the violin, but when Jack finished playing it that first time they knew they had to find a way to play it together at the concert. Stephen improvised the 'cello part himself, with much trepidation. He was eager not to detract from the beauty of the violin's melody, but it was his 'cello that had the last word. When the last high note of the violin faded from their cognizance, only his low sound was left to vibrate through the utter stillness of the church.
It wasn't until much later in the night that Jack would think to turn over his page and see that in the bottom corner of the page it said 'Lone Star, New Year's Day 1800.' Neither of them realized that they'd played a lament for everything this island once lost when the last note died. When he met Cora's eyes over the music stand and saw Dominic sleeping on her shoulder, Stephen realized only how much it would hurt when the equilibrium they'd created was dragged away from them by the slow inevitability of the morning's tide.
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A/N-- Whew. How many of you made it? If anyone is still alive after that, proceed to ponder about what will happen next. Will Cora simply let Stephen walk away again? And what is she going to do about her family's money? Wait and see...
Many thanks to silverwolf of the night for her review. Why she continues to read when she knows the whole story baffles me, but I appreciate her (and anyone else who happens on this humble story of mine) very much.
