Page 131 of The Rules We Broke
“Merry Christmas,” I stuttered, unsure what else to say. It wasn’t like I could ask him about Aunt Lu right there at the dinner table.
He patted my hand gently. “I think it will be.”
Maybe he was right.
Dinner, oddly enough, went well. Sure, Mrs. Jackson wrinkled her nose at me more than once, and Brady’s older brothers and their wives weren’t exactly lining up to chat. But at least no one threw a roll at my head. Not that they would—they were far too proper for that.
Kendra, bless her, passed me a plate of sliced apples and whispered, “One bite and all your dreams will come true.” Just like the evil queen inSnow White.
I laughed, grateful for the levity. And for Kendra.
With each minute that passed without incident, Brady and I exchanged quiet grins—relieved, almost giddy. The knot in my chest loosened, and I even found the courage to speak to Mr. Jackson.
I figured I should start with something polite before I went in for the kill, so to speak.
“Mr. Jackson,” I said softly.
He turned to me, eyes kind. “Please, call me Isaac.”
“Okay,” I replied, nerves fluttering. “Isaac.”
“Isaac!” Mrs. Jackson shrieked, cutting through the moment like a blade. “I think it’s time you played the piano for everyone.”
Oh, that was deliberate. Why didn’t she want me talking to her husband?
Isaac didn’t respond. He simply rose—slowly, painfully—gripping his cane like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to him as he made his way to the gleaming grand piano.
I watched, heart tight. The walk looked exhausting. I worried he wouldn’t have any strength left to play. But he managedto seat himself on the bench and after a few beats, he started a beautiful medley of favorite Christmas carols from “Silent Night” to “The First Noel.” I wasn’t sure who had done the arrangement, but it was perfection, and Isaac played it from memory.
During the song, I kept sneaking glances at Brady. The love he had for his daddy shone in his eyes, but there was worry in them too. It was clear that his father wasn’t well. Yet, he played masterfully and with such emotion. Dang man, he was going to make me like him. He was making me see why my aunt fell in love with him. He was passionate and my aunt was all about passion. Not the romantic kind. Just finding your passion and running with it.
Isaac finished his medley, and everyone in the room clapped, including me.
Just when I thought the night couldn’t be any more surprising. Isaac set his sights on me. “Join me, Ellie,” he said clearer than I’d heard him speak all night.
Say what? In front of everyone?
Surely, this was going to send Mrs. Jackson over the edge. I peeked at her at the far end of the table, and even from a distance, I could see she was seconds away from a nuclear meltdown. She was gripping Beau’s hand like a vice, and he was whispering something to her. Hopefully not the nuclear launch codes.
Brady beamed at me, like he’d expected this. Did he know and not give me a heads up. “Go on, darlin’,” Brady encouraged.
“Yay, Miss Ellie,” Caroline cheered me on. “She helped me play the piano once,” she informed everyone. “She’s so good.”
How could I refuse after that ringing endorsement?
I stood and tiptoed over to the piano, heart pounding, limbs trembling. It didn’t help that Beau, Booker, and their wives were watching me like judges at a recital—eyes daring me to impressthem. And Mrs. Jackson’s eyes were so narrowed at me now they were just slits. She was going to launch an attack. I just knew it.
Then, in a voice meant only for me as soon as I sat down, Mr. Jackson whispered, “If memory serves me right, this was Luanne’s favorite Christmas song.” He placed an arrangement of “O Holy Night” in front of me.
My breath caught.
He said her name.Luanne.
And not just said it—he spoke it with the same quiet passion he’d poured into every note of his medley.
What did this mean?
