Keeping the Peace by Linda Cunningham Page A

lightly touched the keys. Melanie noticed a change in the young man’s demeanor. It was easy to see that here was the forum where he was comfortable.
    “I play for my mother and sister sometimes like this,” he said. “Just me and the piano. After my father died, sometimes it was the only way to get my mother to stop crying.” No one said anything, and he said in a happier tone, “I try to do as much for them as I can. Hey, you know what I did? I bought my sister a horse! She’s always loved horses.” He had begun to fiddle with the keys. Little melodies escaped here and there as he talked.
    “Really!” Melanie exclaimed. “We have horses. Does your sister show?”
    “She does that dressage thing, mostly, I think,” said Gabriel. “Her horse’s name is Above the Clouds. She’s won a lot of ribbons.”
    “I do endurance riding,” said Mia.
    “Do you win?”
    “Actually, yes, I do pretty well,” Mia answered.
    Melanie was glad to see her daughter regaining some of herself back. The celebrity was beginning to burn off the man like early morning fog burns off a meadow.
    “What’s his name?” Gabriel asked.
    “Greensleeves,” answered the girl.
    And now the bits of melody seemed to weave themselves together under his fingers. Real music came from the piano. Gabriel Strand was playing “Greensleeves.” He began to sing the ancient song. His voice was beautiful, possessed of the clear sweetness of a classic tenor. It was one of the loveliest renditions Melanie had ever heard, and she was truly surprised. When he finished, they were silent, mesmerized.
    Emmie finally said, “That was so beautiful!”
    Everyone burst into applause.
    “Can you do ‘No Place to Park’?” asked Emmie.
    The musician smiled widely. “I can,” he said. It was their current hit, a rock ballad. “It’s one of my own favorites that I’ve written. It’ll be a little different without the bass or percussion, sort of Gabriel Strand unplugged.”
    He sang the song. It showcased his voice, and they were all charmed. He sang another and then another. She felt she could have sat there until the morning, but Melanie noticed her daughter’s pained expression. She stood and crossed the room to stand beside Strand. Putting a hand lightly on his shoulder, she said to everyone, “It’s almost eleven o’clock. With the power still off, the house is going to cool down. The best place for everyone is bed—especially you, Miss Mia.”
    Gabriel stood up. Melanie was aware of the muscles beneath the cloth, and just for an instant, her fingers twitched, fighting the urge to caress. “I’ll be heading back to the inn, then,” he said. “I really enjoyed myself tonight. Thank you so much.”
    “You must stay here tonight,” Melanie said vehemently. “It’s too dangerous to drive back to town. Power will be out all over. Probably at the inn, too.” She turned to her husband. “John, call dispatch. Find out the conditions. Really, Gabriel, I insist. John, please.”
    It was the tone of her own voice that alarmed her. She caught her husband’s eyes as a drowning person might catch a towline to save themselves.
    “No, really, I couldn’t impose.” The musician shook his head.
    John said, “Don’t be ridiculous. If you drive off the road, it’ll mean people have to risk their necks trying to save yours. You’re here for the night.”
    “John’s right,” said Melanie. “Follow me. We’ve got a very comfortable extra bedroom with its own bath. It’s probably more comfortable than the mattress Bill Noyes would have you sleeping on.” She placed her hand lightly on his forearm and led him out through the dining room to a large room at the foot of the stairs across from the foyer. “Peter,” she called back over her shoulder, “throw down one of your T-shirts and a pair of your sweat pants for Gabriel. A clean pair, please.” She stood at the bottom of the stairs and caught a black T-shirt with “The Cure” written