Undercurrent. Sara K. Parker

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СКАЧАТЬ flutter of familiar anticipation coursed through her. She always felt it right before a performance. Her cruise contract promised an adventure of a lifetime, and Kat was determined to embrace it.

      * * *

      Samuel West took a sip of black coffee and wondered, not for the first time, how his siblings had managed to pin him down for this one. Whatever their methods, they had succeeded, and now he sat watching rippling dark water against clear blue skies while keeping the corner of his eye trained on the woman who brought trouble wherever she set foot.

      Grandma.

      Ever since Grandpa Frank had died last year, Grandma had been on what could only be described as a travel binge. After her first trip left her stranded in Italy with no passport and her second trip ended before it had even begun, with a nasty fall on the airport escalator that fractured her wrist, Sam and his five siblings had gathered with Mom to devise a plan.

      Grandma relished her independence, and her mind was still as sharp as ever, but she couldn’t be trusted to embark on adventures alone. Together the family made a pact to take turns joining Grandma Alice on her vacations.

      Sam could think of a host of other things he’d rather do than hang out on a cruise ship. Too confined and predictable. But it was his turn, Grandma had told him with her no-nonsense voice, and she knew he had the vacation time available. Knew he hadn’t taken a day off in two years.

      A flash of blue drew his gaze away from his grandmother and up to the wide spiral staircase at the center of the atrium. A woman stood still and graceful on the steps, near-black hair cascading down past her shoulders. Like a figure in a painting, she posed with serenity, one hand resting on the polished brass railing, the other relaxed at her side, gown shimmering under the chandeliers that lit the lobby.

      “It’s six o’clock, and we on the Jade Princess trust that you’re enjoying your voyage across the Atlantic Ocean to the Canary Islands and then on to Malaga, Spain.” The loud voice on the sound system filtered throughout the atrium as patrons wandered through the area and into the coffee shop and art gallery across the way. “In case you missed last night’s classical performance by concert pianist Kathryn Brooks, she will perform again in just a moment in the atrium. Ms. Brooks is a Florida native who made her debut at Carnegie Hall at the age of fifteen and has traveled the world delighting audiences ever since. She’s performed at Steinway Hall and the Sydney Opera House, and now we have the privilege of listening to her performances along our journey. Make sure to pass through the atrium on deck eight to hear her breathtaking music.”

      Sam’s attention fastened on the woman in blue as she took the last few steps to the lobby and made her way to the shiny black grand piano set to the left of a wide center stage. Her black heels tapped against the white marble floor, and the din in the room hushed.

      Passersby seemed drawn to the woman as she took her seat on a leather-cushioned bench, the flowing fabric of her gown caressing the floor at her feet. She turned slightly toward the audience, speaking into the microphone at her side.

      “Good evening,” she said. “I hope you’re all enjoying your sea voyage as much as I am.” Her voice carried clearly through the lobby, mellow and sweet. A few people clapped in agreement and she smiled.

      She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. A narrow streak of white appeared and disappeared so quickly Sam wasn’t sure he’d actually seen it.

      “I’m often asked if music runs in the family. If my parents were here tonight, they’d laugh at the question. In church, my mother worked hard to master lip-synching to hymns, while the rest of the congregation wished my father would, too.”

      Sam found himself smiling along with the rest of her captive audience. Magnetic was how he would describe her. And gorgeous.

      “But my parents’ failure to carry a tune didn’t stand in their way of bringing music into our home,” she continued. “I recall many dinners with the CD player as background music. One night we might listen to Elvis, the next the latest Christian artist and another night an orchestral production. We would scour the thrift shops and clearance boxes at a little music store in town, always searching for something we hadn’t heard before.” She played a few sweet, slow notes and soft laughter rippled through the audience as they recognized “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

      “I suppose that’s where my love of music began, and I credit my mother for inspiring me. While I can lose myself in a Chopin nocturne or a Brahms lullaby, I’ve always craved the challenge of creating, taking something beautiful and...changing it up a little.”

      She turned away from the microphone, made a swift key change and began an arrangement of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” unlike any Sam had ever heard before. Her hands flew over the keys, turning the lullaby into a jazzy rendition that brought cheers from her growing audience. It was a short piece, and it came to an abrupt stop, met with enthusiastic applause. The woman turned back to the microphone.

      “Tonight I’ll be performing some pieces you’ll probably all be familiar with. I hope you’ll enjoy my interpretation. If not, I understand that there’s plenty to do on ship. Which is a good thing, considering we have three more days before we hit our next destination.”

      Even the young children in the room sat quietly watching, captivated by her

      “In honor of our grand adventure, I wonder if you’ll recognize this first tune.”

      Sam did right away—“What a Wonderful World”—and he observed the faces of bystanders as they murmured to each other.

      The pianist’s graceful movements drew Sam in, her eyes closing briefly at the most tender sounds in the piece. Simple notes strung together into tangible emotion beneath the movement of her hands. Her energy and passion for her music flowed through the room, which had suddenly grown more crowded.

      The song was one of Grandma’s favorites, and Sam glanced to his right, expecting to spot her big red hat swaying to the rhythm.

      She wasn’t there.

      He bit back a sigh and stood up, gaze roaming the room. Even in a hall thick with passengers, locating his grandmother should be a cinch with that enormous hat of hers. He moved from his seat, and a young couple scooped up his small round table as he entered the throng of people.

      There. The red hat. He caught a glimpse as his grandmother entered the art gallery.

      He took a step toward her, but something in his periphery caught his attention. Not the crowds shuffling through, not the toddler getting restless in his stroller, but a sudden shift in the air. Something wasn’t right.

      His eyes caught on a figure moving swiftly out of the atrium and into the coffee shop. Dark jeans, a black ball cap and a black jacket. He stood out in the atmosphere of leisure, where the only others rushing about were uniformed crew.

      The man was probably just in a rush to meet up with someone. Still, a chill of foreboding kicked Sam’s pulse up a notch, and his gaze sharpened as it traveled over the sea of crew and passengers. He’d had this feeling many times before. Not a premonition. Just gut instinct. Grandma would say it was a nudge from God, and Sam wouldn’t argue with that. But this was more like being clubbed in the head. A very strong warning.

      A few feet away, the pianist’s hands pulsed over the keys with precision and speed, the giant chandelier glimmering above the piano.

      Adrenaline СКАЧАТЬ