To Be Yours Again-Chapter 212 Gentle pat

Her heart expands.

Lorenzo loves her.

She smiles back at him.

And he grins.

The doctor prods Danica around her stomach and ribs, and the spell between her and Lorenzo is broken. She winces at Dr. Conway’s touch.

“There’s no permanent damage. And you’re lucky not to have any cracked ribs. Just take it easy. And try some ibuprofen if it’s painful. Miss Campbell will have some.” Dr. Conway gives her a gentle pat on her arm. “You’ll live,” he says.

“Thank you,” Danica says.

“I should just take a quick photograph of the bruise. The police might need it for their records.”

“What?” Danica’s eyes widen.

“Good idea,” says Lorenzo.

“Sir, would you mind?” He hands Lorenzo his phone. “Just the bruise.”

“Darling, I’ll only photograph the bruise. Nothing else.”

She nods and lifts her shirt once more, and Lorenzo takes a few quick snaps.

“Done.” He hands the phone back to the old man.

“Thank you,” Dr. Conway replies.

With a look of relief, Lorenzo says, “I’ll show you out, Doctor.”

Danica quickly rises to her feet and takes Lorenzo’s hand. He smiles down at her and laces his fingers through hers. “We’ll both see you out.” Lorenzo gestures to the door, and they follow Dr. Conway into the corridor.

They watch as the doctor drives off in his old car.

Lorenzo has his arm around Danica shoulders, and she’s nestled into his side. It feels...natural. They are standing in the wide hallway at the front of the house.

“You know, you can hold me, too,” Lorenzo says, his tone warm and encouraging.

Shyly, she snakes an arm around his waist. He grins. “See how well we fit together?” And he kisses the top of her head. “I’ll give you the tour later. Right now I want to show you something.”

They turn around, but Danica stops when she notices the large sculpture above the stone fireplace that dominates the hall. It’s the shield that Lorenzo has tattooed on his biceps, but it’s more decorative. There are two stags on each side, a knight’s helmet above it, and above that, in a swirl of yellow and black, a small coronet bearing a lion. Beneath the shield there’s a scrolled caption: FIDES VIGILANT.

“My family’s coat of arms,” Lorenzo explains.

“And on your arm.” She asks, “What do the words mean?”

“It’s Latin. ‘Loyalty in vigilance.’ ”

She looks puzzled, and Lorenzo shrugs.

“Something to do with my great-great-grandfather. Come.” It seems he doesn’t wish to say any more. He’s buoyant, eager to show her something, and his excitement is infectious.

From somewhere deep in the house, the clock that Danica heard earlier announces the hour, one chime echoing through the Hall.

He grins, looking boyish and adorable. She can’t quite believe he’s fallen for her; he’s talented, handsome, kind, wealthy, and he’s saved her from Julio and Tomas once more.

Hand in hand, they walk through a lengthy hallway that’s lined with paintings and the occasional ornate console table laden with statues, busts, and ceramics.

They ascend the great staircase where they had their conversation earlier and cross to the other side of the landing from the double doors.

“I think you might like this,” Lorenzo says, and he opens the door with a flourish.

Danica walks into a large chamber with wood-paneled walls and an elaborate plaster ceiling. At one end is a bookcase that covers the entire wall, but at the other, bathed in light from a huge mullioned window, is a full-size grand piano, the most ornate piano Danica has ever seen.

She gasps and whips her head around to him.

“Please. Play,” he says.

Danica claps her hands and bolts across the wooden floor, the sound of her quick footsteps echoing off the walls.

She stops a pace away from the piano to take in its majesty. It’s made of a highly polished wood with a rich grain that gleams in the light. The legs are solid and intricately carved with leaves and grapes, the sides inlaid with a complex marquetry of golden ivy leaves. She runs her finger along the cartouche. It’s splendid.

“She’s old,” Lorenzo says over Danica’s shoulder.

Lost in wonder, she hadn’t heard him approach. She doesn’t understand why he sounds apologetic.

“It’s magnificent. I have never seen a piano like this,” she whispers in admiration.

“Yes...it’s from a whole century ago.”

“It’s beautiful. How does it sound?”

“Let’s find out. Here.” Lorenzo makes quick work of lifting the top board and using the longer prop to hold it open. “I don’t think you’ll need this, but I thought you might like to see it.” Raising the music rack, he sets it in place. It’s etched in a fine filigree. “Cool, huh?”

Danica nods in awe.

“Sit. Play.”

Danica flashes him a delighted grin and pulls the carved piano stool forward.

Lorenzo steps out of her sight line, and she closes her eyes to collect herself. She places her hands on the keys, relishing the feel of the cool ivory beneath her fingertips. She presses down, and the D-flat major chord sings into the room, resonating off the wooden paneling. The tone is rich, like the dark green of a forest fir, but the action is light, surprisingly light for such an old piano. Opening her eyes, she stares down at the keys, wondering how this instrument could have survived for so long.

Lorenzo and his family must cherish their possessions. Shaking her head with incredulity, she places her hands on the keys once more and, not bothering with her warm-up piece, begins to play her favorite Chopin prelude. The notes of the first four bars dance across the room in a verdant spring green, the color of Lorenzo’s eyes.

But as she plays, the colors become darker and more ominous, filling the room with portent and mystery. Consumed by the music, she surrenders herself to each precious note. It drives away her anxiety and her fear. All the horror of the morning fades and then disappears in the dark and emerald greens of Chopin’s remarkable, stirring masterpiece.