Read Online Before the Storm by Diane Chamberlain - Free Book Online Page B

ice!” Miss Emma called back.
    I heard him on the stairs. He came into the dining room
    barefooted, wearing a full-length wet suit, the top unzipped
    nearly to his navel. He had a lanky, slender build that would
    never fill out to Jamie’s bulk, even though Jamie had eight years
    on him. A gold cross hanging from his neck glittered against
    the tan that must have been left over from summer, and his hair
    was a short, curly cap of sun-streaked brown. He had Miss
    Emma’s eyes—blue, shot through with summer sky.
    “Hey.” He grinned at me, pulling out the chair next to Jamie.
    “Go put some clothes on,” Daddy L said.
    “This is Laurel,” Jamie said. “And this is Marcus.”
    “Hi, Marcus,” I said.

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    “You’re a sandy mess,” Miss Emma said. “Get dressed and
    I’ll heat you a plate in the microwave.”
    “Not hungry,” Marcus said.
    “You still need to change your clothes if you’re going to sit
    here with us,” said his father.
    “I’m going, I’m going.” Marcus got up with a dramatic sigh
    and padded toward the bedrooms.
    In a few minutes, I heard the music of an electric piano. The
    tune was halting and unfamiliar.
    Jamie laughed. “He brought the piano with him?”
    “If you can call it that,” Miss Emma said.
    Daddy L looked at me. “He wants to play in a rock-and-roll
    band,” he explained. “For years, we offered to buy him a piano
    so he could take proper lessons, but he said you can’t play a
    piano in a band.”
    “So he bought a used electric piano and is trying to teach
    himself how to play it,” Miss Emma said. “It makes me ill, listening to that thing.”
    “Ah, Mama,” Jamie said. “It keeps him off the streets.”
    After we’d eaten the most fabulous banana pudding I’d ever
    tasted, I wandered down the hall to use the bathroom. I could
    hear Marcus playing a song by The Police. When I left the
    bathroom, I knocked on his open bedroom door.
    “Your mother said you’re teaching yourself how to play.”
    He looked up, his fingers still on the keys. He’d changed into
    shorts and a navy-blue T-shirt. “By ear,” he said. “I can’t read
    music.”
    “You could learn how to read music.” I leaned against the
    doorjamb.

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    “I’m dyslexic,” he said. “I’d rather have all my teeth pulled.”
    “Play some more,” I said. “It sounded good.”
    “Could you recognize it?”
    “That song by The Police,” I said.“‘Every Breath You Take’?”
    “Awesome!” His grin was cocky and he had the prettiest
    blue eyes. I bet he was considered a catch by girls his age. “I’m
    better than I thought,” he said. “How about this one?”
    He bent over the keys with supreme concentration, the
    cocky kid gone and in his place a boy unsure of himself. The
    back of his neck looked slender and vulnerable. He grimaced
    with every wrong note. I struggled to recognize the song, to
    let him have that success. It took a few minutes, but then it
    came to me.
    “That Queen song!” I said.
    “Right!” He grinned. “‘We are the Champions.’”
    “I’m impressed,” I said sincerely. “I could never play by ear.”
    “You play?”
    “I took lessons for a few years.”
    He stood up. “Go for it,” he said.
    I sat down and played a couple of scales to get the feel of
    the keyboard. Then I launched into one of the few pieces I
    could remember by heart: Fur Elise.
    When I finished, I looked up to see Jamie standing in the
    doorway of the bedroom, a smile on his face I could only
    describe as tender. I knew in that moment that I loved him.
    “That was beautiful,” he said.
    “Yeah, you’re good,” Marcus agreed. He tipped his head to
    one side, appraising me. “Are you, like, a sorority chick?”
    I laughed. “No. What made you ask that?”
    “You’re just different from Jamie’s other girlfriends.”

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    “Is that good or bad?” I asked.
    “Good.” Marcus looked up at his brother.