When Silence Falls

Which left Piper alone, wondering how she’d allowed herself to be railroaded into a trip to the SPCA.

“Men. Can’t live with ’em. The end.”

She grumbled the words to herself as she snagged a cookie and marched to the linen closet. She was half tempted to make Grayson sleep on the sofa, but since it was only a little longer than a love seat and he was just over six feet tall, Piper thought that would be cruel and unusual punishment.

The curtains in her room were open and she hurried over to close them, her gaze drawn to the branches that swayed in the breeze outside the window. If someone was outside watching the house, watching her, she’d never know it. Not until it was too late.

Maybe a dog wasn’t such a bad idea.

She shook her head. No way. Dogs were messy and they stunk. She did not want a dog. Then again, she wasn’t sure she liked the idea of being alone in the house with a snake-tattooed kidnapper holding a grudge against her. She knew she didn’t like the idea of Gray sacking out in her house every night. She loved her brother, but he was overprotective and bossy. One night was about all she could take of him.

She tugged fresh sheets onto her bed, her mind racing with a million thoughts, a million worries. She had a lot to do in the next few months. A book to write. Piano lessons to teach. Finals needed to be administered and graded. She had to plan and practice the music for church. Make sure the collection of musical antiques she’d inherited were catalogued, appraised and ready to go on loan to the Lynchburg Museum of Fine Arts. And she’d offered to help Miriam plan the exhibit’s grand opening to coincide with Music Maker’s twenty-fifth anniversary.

What had she been thinking?

She hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. She’d been asked and she’d said yes. At the time, she’d really thought she could do it. Now, she wondered if what she’d thought she could do was a little more than what she was capable of.

A few weeks ago Gray had accused her of having superwoman syndrome. Had he been right? Did she think she could do everything? Accomplish everything? Did she jump into things without thinking them through? Maybe sometimes. But not now. Now she was thinking. And what she was thinking was that she definitely didn’t need a dog complicating her life. She’d call Cade tomorrow and tell him she wasn’t going to the SPCA. That would take care of at least one of the problems. Everything else would work out in its time. She hoped.

As Piper finished making the bed, she had the sinking feeling that that wouldn’t be the case, that maybe tonight’s troubles were only the beginning. She shivered, grabbed the quilt off the end of her bed and walked back out into the living room. Huddled on the sofa, gaze fixed on the door, she could only pray that she was wrong.

FOUR

A night spent tossing and turning on her hand-me-down sofa left Piper feeling groggy and irritable. Fighting Grayson for time in the house’s sole bathroom only worsened her mood. By the time she ran out to the car, already five minutes late, a bagel clutched in one hand and a diet soda in the other, her briefcase and purse under her arm, Piper felt like she’d already put in a full day’s work.

Grayson looked just as tired as he pulled open the door to his car. “You’re meeting Cade here at two. Don’t forget.”

He didn’t ask, and she decided to save an argument and not mention that she planned to cancel. “And you’re sleeping at your own place tonight.”

“We’ll see.”

“Gray—”

“We’re both running late. Let’s discuss it later.”

“Why is it that you always say that when we don’t agree on something?”

But Grayson was already in his car, waving as he drove away.

Piper shook her head, shoved a last bite of bagel in her mouth and yanked open the door to the GTO. There was no sense being irritated. Grayson was Grayson, determined to have his way in everything. They’d talk. She’d present her view of things. He’d disagree. In the end, he’d do exactly what he wanted.

And tonight he’d be sleeping on the couch.

Classical music was playing on the radio, but Piper needed something different this morning. Contemporary Christian music seemed just the thing to lift her dark mood and she hummed along with familiar tunes as she drove. The sun peeked over the trees, bright orange against the azure sky. It would be a beautiful day. Perfect for hiking near Smith Mountain Lake.

Too bad Piper wouldn’t have time for it. She had two classes to teach this morning. Then she’d stop at the police station to sign her statement, call Cade, practice for Sunday’s service and then teach piano from five to nine. A full day, but if she kept on schedule, everything should work out fine.

Of course, things never quite turned out the way Piper planned and she wasn’t surprised when it took her double the time she’d expected it would to sign her statement at the police station. Nor was she surprised when she arrived home and found an unfamiliar SUV parked in front of her house.

She glanced at the dashboard clock, saw that it was a few minutes after two, and knew exactly who was waiting. “Perfect.”

Piper shoved open the car door and climbed out, her breath catching as Cade stepped out of the SUV. Dark aviator glasses, too-long hair, an easy, comfortable way of moving. A smile that should be outlawed.

And that was something Piper did not want to be noticing. She had enough men in her life. One more would just complicate things.

She turned away, yanking her purse from the passenger seat and calling over her shoulder, “Sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. Have you been waiting long?”

“Just a few minutes. I was a little early.”

“And I’m a little late.” She grabbed her briefcase, shoved the door closed with her hip.

“Rough day?” He pulled the briefcase from her hand, started toward the house.

“I’ve had worse. How about you?”

“I guess I could say the same. The photo shoot was easy. Dealing with my father, not so easy.”

“How is he?”

“Better physically. Mentally is a different story. I thought moving him back here would help. So far, it’s just made things worse.”

“Have you been back long?” Piper followed him up the stairs to the front door.

“About a month. I…” His voice trailed off. “Your door is open.”

“What? It shouldn’t be. I locked it before I left this morning.” Her pulse sped up as she sidled close, leaned past Cade’s arm and watched as he pushed with one finger and the door creaked inward.

“Go get in the car.”

“But—”

“Go. If I’m not out in ten minutes, call for backup.” The hard tone of his voice had her moving, hurrying back to her GTO, watching as Cade disappeared inside her house.

Seconds ticked by. Then minutes. She was supposed to wait ten, but Piper didn’t think she’d make it five. She grabbed her cell phone, clutched it in her hand, ready to dial 911. Was Cade okay? Should she call for help and then go inside?

Before she could decide, a figure rounded the corner of the house and Piper’s heart lurched, settling back into place as she recognized Cade.

She scrambled out of the car, searching his face, trying to determine what he’d found. “Did you see anyone?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t look like anything was touched, either. Want to come in and see?”

She did, and followed him into the house.

He was right. Everything looked just the way she’d left it. Her quilt thrown over the couch. A book sitting on the end table. A glass in the kitchen sink. A few crumbs on the counter. In the morning room, the mahogany wood of the piano gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the window. Piper walked into the office, her bedroom and the bathroom, and found each in order, nothing out of place, nothing missing.

Finally satisfied, she grabbed a soda from the refrigerator, offered one to Cade. “So, what do you think?”

“It doesn’t look like anyone was here. The door was locked, just not closed all the way. Is it possible you didn’t shut it when you left?”

“No. I shut it.” She thought back, trying to remember the moment she’d closed the door. She’d been carrying her purse, briefcase, bagel, soda. “Then again, I was in a hurry and I had a lot in my hands. It could be I didn’t pull hard enough and the lock didn’t click.”

“Or someone was here, but doesn’t want you to know it.”

“Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Things don’t always make sense, Piper. If they did, police work would be a lot easier.” Cade took a swallow of soda, trying to decide how much he should say. “Most likely this is exactly what it seems to be—a locked door that wasn’t shut tightly enough.”

Piper relaxed at his words, the crease between her brows smoothing. “Good. The thought of someone snooping through my house while I’m gone is creepy.”

“I agree. Which is why getting a dog is such a good idea.”

“About that…” She shifted, turning away to grab a towel and wipe crumbs from the counter. “I’m not sure a dog will fit my lifestyle.”

“I guess that’s your choice to make.”

She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. “So you’re not going to argue with me?”

“No.”

“Try to convince me I’m wrong?”

“Should I?”

“I guess not, though every other man in my life would.”

“Then it’s good I’m not any of the other men in your life.”

She smiled for the first time since getting out of her car, her face lighting, her eyes silvery gray. “I’m sorry you came all the way over here for nothing.”

“It’s not a problem. I was on my way home, anyway.”

“Are you close?”

“Just a few streets over. Off of Main Street.”

“And you moved in there a month ago? I can’t believe I didn’t hear anything about it. Usually news spreads like wildfire around here.”

“Between my work and Dad’s physical therapy I’m gone more than I’m home, so there’s probably not much news to spread.”

“I can sympathize. I probably wouldn’t be home at all if I didn’t teach piano lessons here.”

“This used to be your uncle’s studio, didn’t it?”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“How could I forget? Seth had carpool duty the year he got his license. We’d pick you up from school and drop you off here. Then interrupt whatever we were doing to come back and bring you home.”

“That’s right. I’d forgotten. But now that you mention it, I seem to recall a few very tense car rides.” She was smiling again, her face soft with memories, her fingers tapping against the kitchen counter.

She’d grown into her fey eyes and stubborn chin, grown into the gangly arms and legs that had been too skinny when she was a teen. Now, dressed in white slacks and matching jacket, a vivid blue tank top in some silky material beneath it, she looked like the accomplished professional she’d become. A very attractive professional, and Cade wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the change.

Nor was he comfortable leaving her alone in the house when his gut said there was more to the open door than there seemed to be.

So maybe now was the time to try a little persuasion.

He straightened, placing his empty can on the counter. “If you’re sure you’re not interested in going to the SPCA, then I’d better head out.”

“I’m sure.”

“Good. Too bad for the dog, though.”

“What dog?”

“The dog you would have been giving a home to.”

Her eyes narrowed, her fingers stilling. “You said you weren’t going to try to talk me into it.”

“Actually, I said I wasn’t going to argue with you, or try to persuade you. And I’m not.”

“Then what do you call what you’re doing?”

“Presenting the facts.”

“And they would be?”

“You’re alone in a house at the end of a very secluded street. Your house is about as secure as an open safe in the middle of a den of thieves. Last night, someone came very close to breaking into one of your windows. Today, you came home and found your front door open.”

“You said—”

“I said it was probably nothing, but that doesn’t mean it was. A dog will serve as a deterrent and an early warning system. If anyone gets within a few hundred feet of the house, you’ll know it. You’ll have added security and the dog will have the home it needs. Sounds like a win-win situation to me.”

For a moment she was silent. Then she shook her head, amusement flashing in her eyes. “You’re good. Really good. My brothers would have beaten me over the head with their opinions. Then demanded I do what they wanted. You’re just standing there as relaxed as can be, waiting for me to make the right choice for me and for some dog I haven’t even met yet.”

“Is it the right choice for you?”

“I don’t know, but now I feel obligated to check it out.” She looked disgruntled, but not altogether unhappy, amusement still dancing in her eyes, her fingers tapping a rhythm on the counter once again.

“Let’s head out then.”

“Give me ten minutes to change.” She started down the hall toward the bedroom, then turned back. “Promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You won’t let me walk out of there with more than one dog.”

He had the nerve to laugh, his eyes, green as the Irish hills his family had come from, sparkling with mirth. “I promise.”

FIVE

Piper had known it would come to this—standing in the SPCA kennel, looking at one dog after another and wishing she could adopt them all despite the fact that she knew she didn’t want even one. The pitiful little terrier mix that would keep her up all night with its yapping, the black lab mix that looked like it had more energy than brains, the beautiful German shepherd that had been found wandering beside the lake—each in need of a good home. And then there were the rest—barking, yapping, howling, begging for attention. Piper turned in a circle, scanning the long row of cages. “How could I ever choose?”

“The shepherd is beautiful, and it looks like she’s had training.” Cade stood at the shepherd’s cage, eyeing the dog in question.

“Which means there will be plenty of people who want to take her home. I’d rather give a second chance to a dog who probably won’t get one.”

“Do you mean that?” The SPCA volunteer who had walked them back into the kennel area spoke up, scratching the top of his balding head and shifting from foot to foot.

“Mean what?”

“What you said about giving a chance to a dog that wasn’t going to get one?”

It sounded like a question Piper should answer with a loud and firm “no,” but she was intrigued, wondering what kind of animal could possibly be so bad it had no chance at all of a home. “I guess that depends on the dog.”

The volunteer studied her for a minute, then issued a curt nod. “Come on. This way.”

Piper glanced at Cade, who shrugged and gestured for her to follow. They walked past cage after cage, rounded a corner and spotted the biggest dog Piper had ever seen. Huge paws, huge brown head, huge amounts of slobber drooling from his mouth. Obviously, this was the dog no one wanted.

“This is Samson. Purebred Great Dane. A little over a year old. His owner passed away four months ago. No one in the family could keep a dog as big as Sammy, so they brought him here. He’s got a great disposition. Loves cats, kids and people in general.” The volunteer patted the door of the cage and the dog pressed his head against the metal, perhaps hoping for a scratch.

“Then why is he still here?”

“Samson’s been adopted twice and returned twice. Every time he starts to settle in he’s uprooted again.”

“Poor thing.” Piper stepped forward to get a closer look, stopping when Cade’s hand wrapped around her wrist.

He leaned forward, speaking so close to her ear she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. “Did you notice he didn’t answer your question?”

She had, but as always, the instinct to say “yes, I can do it” overshadowed the voice in her head shouting “no way!”

Only this time she was going to think things through, get all the facts and then decide what she wanted to do, not what she felt obligated to do.

She cleared her throat, turned her gaze away from the dog. “What were the reasons Samson was returned?”

The volunteer rocked back and forth on his heels and scratched the top of his head again. “At the first placement we found for him, he broke about a thousand dollars’ worth of antique glassware. At the second, he didn’t break anything, he was just under his new family’s feet and constantly knocking over chairs and lamps.”

“I guess a big dog needs a lot of extra room.”

“Depends more on the owner than the dog. A young gal like you will have plenty of energy to take Samson for walks, get rid of all his extra energy. Come on and meet him.”

Before Piper could protest, he’d pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the kennel door. The dog rose from his haunches, tail wagging, brown eyes staring into Piper’s. If dogs could speak, Piper knew this one would be saying, “Go ahead. Take me home. You won’t even know I’m there.”

He walked out of the kennel with the volunteer, grinned a big, sloppy doggy grin and sat on Piper’s feet.

She couldn’t help smiling as she leaned forward to scratch Samson behind his ears. His fur felt warm, smooth and much softer than she’d expected. Maybe taking a dog home wasn’t such a bad idea.

She was going to take the dog. Cade could see it in Piper’s face—worry, dread and excitement. The dog knew it, too, his giant head pressed against Piper’s stomach, his eyes staring straight into hers. A con man if Cade had ever seen one.

Piper rubbed the dog behind its ears. Then she straightened, her ponytail swinging with the movement. Brown fur stuck to the shimmering treble clef symbol on her T-shirt and she brushed it off, a frown line appearing between her brows as she met Cade’s gaze. “I guess you’re not going to try and talk me out of this.”

“You told me not to let you go home with multiple dogs. You didn’t say anything about pony-sized ones.”

“So, you don’t have any opinion about it?”

“My opinion doesn’t count. You’re the one who’s got to live with him.”

“I know. And I should probably get a smaller dog. But he’s just so…”

“Pitiful?”

“I was thinking sweet.” She looked disgruntled as she reached down to pat the dog’s head. “My brothers are going to think I’m insane. I can just hear Gray now—what were you thinking, Piper?”

“So?”

“You’d have to be the youngest child to understand.”

“Maybe. But even if I were a youngest child instead of an only, I don’t think I’d let my siblings’ opinions keep me from doing what I thought was right.”

“I don’t plan to. I’m just preparing myself for their disapproval.” Her voice was light, but there was an undercurrent of something—maybe frustration—lacing the words.

“They won’t disapprove. The dog is big enough to scare away the most persistent intruder. Your brothers will appreciate that.” He gave in to temptation and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting the silky threads of it slide through his fingers.

Her eyes widened, her face—usually pale porcelain—tinged pink and she stepped away, the frown line back between her brows. “One way or another, I’m about to find out.” She turned to the volunteer and smiled. “What do I need to do to adopt him?”

An hour later they were on their way home and Piper was wondering what she’d gotten herself into. Again. She sighed, pulled the rubber band from her ponytail and rubbed the sore spot at the base of her neck. Talk about tension! Who knew deciding to adopt a dog could be so stressful? At least she had a few days to prepare for Samson’s arrival, though she wasn’t sure that was even possible. Samson was huge. Her house wasn’t. Maybe the SPCA would decide her bungalow wasn’t a suitable home for the dog she’d chosen. Piper couldn’t decide if that would be a disappointment, or a relief.

“Regretting it already?” The quiet rumble of Cade’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Not regretting it. Just wondering how I’m going to manage. I work a lot. Travel some. This summer I’ll be doing even more of that than usual.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’ve been hired to write a book about the nonprofit organization my uncle founded.”

“Music Makers?”

“Yes. There’s going to be a huge fund-raising event next December. A twenty-fifth anniversary gala—those are Miriam’s words, not mine. The book is going to be given out as a gift.”

“Miriam?”

“Miriam Bradshaw. Curator of the Lynchburg Museum of Fine Arts. Friend of my uncle. Longtime supporter of Music Makers. She’s got a million hats and wears them all well. If I were half as organized and efficient as her, I’d be happy.”

“You seem pretty organized and efficient to me.”

She snorted.

“You do.”

“Because you don’t know me. But that’s not the point. The point is, I’m going to be traveling out of state to conduct interviews. Miriam wants the book to be a photo history of Music Makers’ service to the community. We’ve picked one or two people from each year, successful musicians who owe at least some of what they’ve accomplished to the foundation. We’ll get photos of the musician, his or her instrument, then…” What was she doing? Boring Cade to tears, most likely. She’d yet to meet a man who was even vaguely interested in what she did for a living.

“Then what?”

“Put the photos together with my commentary, but I think you’ve probably heard enough. I’m excited about the project and tend to talk about it incessantly.”

“You’ve got a right to be excited. The book sounds great. Your uncle would have been pleased.”

“I know.” She fell silent, not sure what else to say, the weight of her uncle’s death still heavy on her heart.

She thought Cade might say something comforting, offer the same words she’d heard over and over since Marcus’s death. Instead, he reached for her hand and squeezed it, letting her have her silence.

She cleared her throat, forced back her sadness. “It’s going to be hard to find someone to pet-sit this late in the season. Everyone already has plans.”

“Not everyone.”

“You know someone who might be willing to watch Samson?”

“Sure do. My father.”

“I thought he wasn’t doing well.”

“He’d be doing a lot better if he’d stop feeling sorry for himself.” The words sounded harsh, but the concern in Cade’s face took the sting out of them.

“You’re worried.”

“Worried and frustrated. When Dad had his stroke, the doctors weren’t sure he’d live. When he survived, they weren’t sure how much neurological damage there’d be. Now, he’s on the verge of getting back his independence, but instead of pushing for it, he’s complaining. Taking care of someone or something else might be just what he needs.”

“Do you think he’d agree to it?”

“If I ask him? No. If you ask him? Maybe.”

“Then I guess I’ll ask him. When’s a good time to stop by?”

“Any time you want. Dad doesn’t leave the house except for physical therapy sessions. And even that’s a struggle.”

It sounded like things were a lot worse than Cade was letting on. Piper worried her lower lip, tried to think through her schedule over the next few days. “How about tomorrow evening?”

“That should work.”

“Should I invent an excuse for stopping by?”

“We’re friends. You don’t need any other excuse.”

Friends. Good, that’s exactly what Piper wanted to be, that’s all she wanted to be. She’d spent too many years dating men who were more interested in themselves than in her; too many years looking for that elusive dream—soul mate, perfect match, one and only. They were all the same, and none of them existed.

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