Sight Reading: A Novel by Daphne Kalotay

Author:Daphne Kalotay
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Music, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780062246950
Publisher: Harper
Published: 2013-05-20T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 5

They were at Hugh’s house, sitting before the fireplace, watching flames wrap themselves around logs. Hazel had kicked off her shoes and folded her legs to her side, propping herself up on one arm, aware of the curve of her body. Next to her, Hugh was leaning back on his arms, his legs stretched out ahead of him in corduroy pants, his feet in thick socks, one over the other. Caves of ashes glowed beneath the grill.

Luke was at a sleepover. Jessie was at that Halloween party (and in Nicholas and Remy’s charge). Hazel watched the infinitesimal adjustments of each collapsing log, each dripping ember, and felt all around her the luxury of a night alone with Hugh. She was awash in ripeness, in possibility. Beyond the windows was an incredible blackness.

“I can’t remember the last time I roasted chestnuts.”

“I never have, actually,” Hugh admitted. “I saw them at Bread & Circus and thought it might be a nice treat.”

Hazel smiled; she adored this man—how could she not adore him, with his honesty and goodness and spur-of-the-moment chestnuts? At last she had found someone right for her, just when it seemed there was no hope left. “Sometimes I think that’s the most wonderful part of life,” she told him. “Not the big, fancy things. It’s the little, hidden treats.”

Hugh nodded, a bit gravely, Hazel thought. “It’s funny, isn’t it,” she continued, “how life gets tossed into baskets that way? I mean, there are the days that people assume are the most important ones, like your wedding day, or the day your child is born, the few defining events, the tragedies, too—that’s one basket. And there are the tiny wondrous moments that barely anyone else will ever know about, that’s another basket. And then there’s everything else.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Hugh said.

“I don’t, usually.” She thought again and added, “Sometimes I feel like I’m passing through the days, and other times I feel like the days are mine.”

Hugh reached over to run his fingers through her hair. “And which kind of a day is this?”

“It’s mine, but I’m sharing it with you.”

He gave her a very serious look and leaned over to kiss her, longer this time than the good night kiss last week. The fire was stronger now, bright scarves of flame whipping at each other. Hugh kissed her again, and this time he did not pause except to say something brief and meaningless, so sweet and surprising that Hazel at once forgot what it was. Nor was she sure of what she said back. They continued this way, saying things in little bursts, moving closer, Hugh’s fingers working open the top few buttons of Hazel’s blouse.

He would see the white splotches, she knew. She felt herself shrinking back, told herself not to, told herself that in this light, the spots would not be noticed. But suddenly, just as she had feared, Hugh pulled away.

The chestnuts had caught fire. There was the smell of scorching while with tongs Hugh rescued the blistered foil.

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