Page 29 of A Silence So Divine

“Do you like… dancing?”Creed asks as we work around each other in the kitchen, cleaning the post-dinner mess. His eyes twinkle with mischief, his nose red-tipped from a day spent romping around in the snow.

“Dancing?”

“Dancing,” he confirms.

Running my fingers through the ends of my hair, I try to think back to a time that I truly danced. If I had, I was very small. There certainly wasn’t any music floating throughout my home growing up, and to dance without music… what’s the point?

“I don’t know,”I shrug.

Creed nods, looking contemplative as he peers past me. The corner of his mouth twitches, and it dawns on me that he’s trying to keep a straight face.

“Out with it!”I sign, punctuating it with a swat to his arm.

“Fine,”he rubs at his bicep.“Follow me, but close your eyes when we get in there.”

Conceding, I trail after him into the dining room. The table has been pushed against the wall, the tiled floor spacious inthe center of the room. The ceiling is high, as are the windows, giving the moon plenty of space to breathe light into the space.

“Close your eyes!”Creed demands. With a huff, I obey.

A minute ticks by. Scoots and footsteps echo from wall, to ceiling, and back again. Finally, he stills and fumbles with something.

My palms are itchy with anticipation and I rub them together, my mind begging me to take a peek. Suddenly, a scratching sound floods the room. My eyes fly open.

Creed is across the room, leaning over some kind of… appliance? A large black disk spins in the center of a box. His tongue pokes out in concentration as he fiddles with it, pressing his palm to the side periodically. Like the music was plucked from thin air, a swell of instruments introduces itself. Goosebumps rise on my arms.

When he turns to face me, his brows are pulled low. “Does it sound alright? I can’t tell from the vibrations. It’s old—”

“It’s perfect,”I interrupt. It’s even better than the dress and sketch book. The way it fills the room, it makes the whole house come alive.

A dimple appears in his cheek and he steps toward me. His shoulders shimmy as he slinks forward, waggling his eyebrows.

“What are you doing?”I can’t help the giggle that scratches its way up from my belly.

“Dancing!”He throws his arms out and spins in a circle for emphasis.

“The music is slow,”I inform him. He only grins wider.

“You’ll have to lead. Go on,”he urges, inclining his head toward me.

Put on the spot, I flounder. It’s so silly, soimproper, to dance in the dining room. If Papa were here…

“Try it, bird.”The use of my nickname typically infuriates me, but sincerity has wiped all traces of amusement from his face. All that remains is crinkled eyes and a soft smile.

Shoulders thrown back, I close the distance between us and hold out my hand. He doesn’t hesitate to take it. From there, I maneuver his arm slowly, using the swell of the music as a guide. Creed catches on, and soon our bodies are gliding around, his palm resting on my hip. I don’t think twice; I close my eyes and place my other hand on his upper arm.

We twist and turn and spin, only existing within the music and each other’s companionship.

A throat clears. My heart skips a beat, and I’m out of Creed’s arms before I even open my eyes. Cecil’s in the doorway, his gaze scrutinizing. Neither Creed nor I make a move to speak first.

Cecil’s eyes trail me top to bottom, then do the same to his brother. With a blink, impassiveness returns and he raises his arm, fisting a large paper sack.

“I got booze.”

“You got…?”I trail off, my nose scrunched up as I wait for an elaboration.

“Alcohol.” His tone is flat.

“A-l-c-o-”I begin, my head whipping back towards Cecil.“A-l-c-o-h-o-l!?”All color drains from my face. Dancing is one thing—consuming alcohol is something Papa would have killed me for.