His wife continued to amaze Riley. He'd been taken by surprise when she had stood in the middle of the church service, following the communion meditation, and approached the piano. She slipped onto the mahogany bench and skillfully ran her fingertips over the keyboard. Riley hadn't had a clue she could sing, any more than he'd been aware that she possessed such extraordinary talent at the piano. As he'd sat back and listened to her hauntingly beautiful voice, his heart had filled with a renewed sense of appreciation for the incredibly gifted woman he'd married. The poignant words of the song had touched him in ways that were completely foreign, and he'd sat for several moments afterward, pondering their meaning.
Following the worship service, he'd suggested they go out to breakfast.
"Why didn't you tell me you could sing like that?"
Hannah finished spreading jelly on her toast before she answered. "You never asked."
He frowned and reached for the syrup. "How long have you been playing the piano?"
She shrugged. "I started lessons when I was about six, maybe seven. I don't remember. My mother was the pianist for the church until she died, and I took over for her."
"I had no idea you were so gifted."
"Oh, Riley. Honestly, you make it sound like I'm another Chopin or something."
"You're damn good. Have you ever thought of doing anything with your music?"
She smiled sweetly up at him and shook her head. "Heavens no. I played the piano because, well, because it was expected of me. Don't misunderstand me. I love it – in fact I miss it quite a lot. But music isn't my life."
Riley thought about this and nodded when the waitress came by with the coffeepot to refill his cup. "Are there any other talents you possess that I don't know about?"
Hannah mulled that over and shrugged once more. "I'm quite a good seamstress."
"Where's your sewing machine?"
"I left it at my father's house when we… married. I was hoping to pick it up over Christmas. You might have noticed the stack of material I've been buying lately. It's on the floor in the bedroom. I've got to do something about clothes."
"Buy yourself anything you want," he offered, not understanding why she hadn't before now. It was apparent she was growing out of almost everything she owned.
"It's much cheaper to make them, and I enjoy it."
"Will you have the time?"
"Yes, Mr. Worrywart."
She grinned, and Riley swore he could drown in her eyes. She'd smile, and his heart would melt. She had the uncanny talent for making him feel like a schoolboy – flustered and inexperienced. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for her. He'd practically given up drinking, and he hadn't even noticed. With the exception of Steve, he was losing touch with his friends. There wasn't anyone he'd rather spend time with than Hannah.
There were problems, however. He wasn't keen on them maintaining separate bedrooms. He wanted her sleeping by his side. Damn it all to hell, that was where she belonged. He just hadn't figured out how he was going to get her there. The first night he'd been home, she'd been rummy with the medication the doctor had given her and had fallen asleep on the return trip from the hospital. The following afternoon he'd been assigned duty and she was in bed asleep by the time he arrived home. Asleep in her own bed.