Treasured

59)

Wren

The fortnight at the seaside was exactly what we needed. Each day was relaxed, free of worry and care. We had beach days, late mornings and busy nights that left traces of our love for others to see. Each moment was one of comfort and easy companionship.

But as everything else in life, that time passed. And while we had loved our seaside escape, we also missed our home. I smiled to myself, realizing that for the first time in my life I knew where I belonged. Not only was I accepted, but I was wanted. The people surrounding me wanted to see me, wanted to know more about what I felt and thought, what would make happy...

~

When we returned, I spent a few weeks learning how to walk with a peg leg. My stump was still tender, but Dr. Farre gave me a salve that helped. Gaining the ability to walk was life changing. I could manage the stairs, wander the house freely, and even take long walks on the grounds.

I also regained enough mobility in my hands to practice my beloved instruments. My wrists and fingers were weak, so I had to take it slowly and I couldn't play for long periods, but time would improve that, or so I hoped.

~

Two days after our return, June called me to the music room. I wasn't sure why he wanted to meet there, but it was a quiet place and out of the way. The first thing I noticed was Branson's uneasy figure by the window. June also looked slightly uncomfortable, but he was beside a large object covered in a sheet.

Perplexed, I moved forward, searching for reassurance as I took June's hand in my own. He smiled, but looked to Branson to explain.

"June and I...well, we've been working on a project recently," Branson grumbled, moving to cage me in from behind.

June rolled his eyes, amused at Branson's lackluster delivery. Still, he removed the sheet, making me gasp in both surprise and excitement. Before me stood a full sized harp. Intricate woodwork was covering the wood, and it was a beautiful, creamy color.

It must have taken days to finish. I gently traced the strings as if in a trance, not daring to break the sudden silence in the room. I was completely shocked, finding that my mouth refused to work.

"Do you like it?" June shifted uncertainly, not knowing what to make of my quiet response.

I couldn't take my eyes off of the piece of art in front of me, but I squeezed his hand. Branson hunched over to rest his chin on my head, watching every movement I made.

I could resist no longer, closing my eyes and smiling at the soft sound it made when I plucked the strings. My fingers flew, making it sound like a cascade of twinkling stars. Peace flooded me, and I could feel my body growing light. Time stood still and I slowly began to sway as I got lost in the music that flooded the room.

I was so lost, I barely registered the two speaking to each other.

"Did he hear me?" June whispered.

"Perhaps not, but his reaction is answer enough. He loves it," Branson lowly returned.

Branson tried to step away, but I gripped his hand with one of mine, pressing it to my stomach where he had wound his arms around me. He settled into the hug, quietly loving me as I shared myself through my song.

I don't know how long we stood together, but when I finished, they seemed calm and happy. I stretched as far as I could to pull Branson down, letting our lips connect. He let me set the pace, appreciating the sweet, slow kiss.

I stepped into June's arms next, knowing he didn't often feel the urge to do anything romantic. So I held him, melting into him as he lifted me up. Resting my head on his shoulder felt natural, and his large hands felt warm and safe.