Songbird Read Online Free PDF Page A

him.
    “We miss him too.”
    She went very still in Taggert’s arms. No one had said Sean’s name since her arrival. No one had mentioned him even indirectly.
    “I’d like to go to bed,” she croaked.
    Greer’s lips firmed, and he looked like he’d argue. He pulled away from her and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.
    “All right, Emmy. But tomorrow things are going to change.”
    She heard the warning in his statement, but that was tomorrow, and it was all she could do to deal with today. Tomorrow…that was a long time away, and she’d take it one day at a time.

Chapter Five
    The gentle strains of a guitar woke Emily from her sleep. She blinked fuzzily, wondering if it was just part of a dream. It was still dark outside, but a quick glance at the clock told her dawn wasn’t far off.
    A haunting melody, so simple and beautiful, floated over her ears. Her chin trembled. It was the first song she’d recorded—a song she’d written long ago when she and the Donovan brothers had spent a spring afternoon in the rain. Mountain Rain .
    She closed her eyes and let the chords take her back to the nights spent round a campfire, Sean playing the guitar while she sang. Taggert and Greer sat by the fire, their long legs stretched out, their brims pulled low over their foreheads and their worn boots reflecting the flicker of the flames.
    Drawn to the music, she eased out of bed and walked into the hallway to stand at the top of the stairs. Clad in only her flannel PJs, she followed the sound of the guitar down to the living room and realized it was coming from the front porch.
    Her legs shook, and she had to steady herself by reaching down to grasp the arm of the couch. Who was playing? And moreover, her song?
    The words to the song floated through her mind, and she was reminded of earlier, happier days. Carefree.
    She opened the front door and stepped into the chilly morning air. The music stopped, and she found herself staring at Taggert, his hand frozen over the strings as he stared back at her.
    “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Taggert said.
    “I didn’t know you played.”
    He glanced down at the guitar, and it was then she realized it was Sean’s.
    “I don’t play well. Been fiddling with it for the last year.”
    “It sounded beautiful,” she said in a low voice.
    He looked back up at her, his gaze roving over her face until she could feel it caressing her cheek.
    “Will you sing if I play?”
    Her hand flew to her throat and she shook her head forcefully. “No. I c-can’t.”
    “Why can’t you?” he persisted. “Emmy, it’s been a year. Yours is the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard in my life. You have a talent that astounds me, and you’re wasting it.”
    She shook her head again, unable to voice her terror, to admit her guilt, that it was because of the voice he loved so much that Sean was dead. She hated it. She couldn’t even think about singing without her throat closing in on her.
    She sank down onto one of the rockers. “Play for me,” she begged.
    His fingers stuttered over the strings for a moment, clumsy at first, and then he strummed the first chords of Montana Memories , a song she’d written specifically for the Donovan brothers. Did he know? Had he guessed?
    She wrapped herself in the beauty of the music, allowing it to give her comfort when nothing else had. When the last note died and the skies began to lighten in preparation for sunrise, she sought his gaze and asked the question burning a hole in her mind.
    “Why?”
    His brow furrowed. “Why what?”
    “Why did you come after me? Why did you bring me back here? Why…do you and Greer act as though I mean something to you…more than being your brother’s widow?”
    He sucked in his breath and carefully laid the guitar aside. His hands wiped along the tops of his legs and then gripped the area just above his knees. He looked…nervous. That puzzled her. Taggert was brash, temperamental, outspoken, opinionated,