Cole was miserable. Everywhere he went, people asked about Laura and all he could tell them was that they’d broken up and she’d moved out of state with a distant relative since she had no other family in the area. But he was supposed to be her family. Cole had no idea who this distant relative was or where she might have gone. As far as he knew, her mother was the only family that she had. He didn’t have much of a family at the moment, either, as he wasn’t speaking to his father.

He had plenty of friends, of course, and kept busy with them. He worked at the club as a caddy and played a lot of golf, taking care to avoid the times when he knew his father would be there. He was looking forward to the fall and college. It was bittersweet, though, as he’d assumed that both he and Laura would be attending together and that they’d be newlyweds by then with a baby on the way. He’d been a little freaked out at first about the idea of having children so young. But the idea had grown on him, and he’d thought that he and Laura could handle anything because their love was strong. He still couldn’t understand how he could have been so wrong about that.

Part of him blamed his father, of course, for paying her to go away. But the other part of him argued that if she took the money, then she wasn’t the one for him. Their love wasn’t as strong as he’d thought it was. One thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t going to be in a hurry to get married to anyone anytime soon. He was still feeling numb and raw. He didn’t even really feel like dating at all, but his friends kept encouraging him to get back out there. To get back on the horse and get over it. Easier said than done. But he sensed that it might be a good idea to just have fun, make it clear he wasn’t looking to be serious and just casually date.

So he did. He went out with a few different girls but and rarely saw anyone more than once or twice. They were all nice girls, but they were interchangeable to him, just pleasant company to pass the time and try to get his mind off the one woman he wanted but could never have again.

* * *

Her aunt said that there was car in the garage that Laura could use. Her husband had loved old convertibles and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to sell it. She drove it every now and then to keep it going. Laura would have to take a driving test to get her license first though. That surprised her a little as she felt like she already knew how to drive. Her aunt said she’d been teaching her before they went on vacation. But, at least the music shop was close enough that she could walk there until then.

When Laura arrived at the shop, Peter was ringing up a customer at the register. As soon as he finished, he showed Laura around and taught her to use the register and how to look up artists in the store database online.

“People often come in and know what they’re looking for but don’t remember the name of the song or of the band. We can usually figure it out with what they do remember and point them in the right direction.”

He showed her the various instruments. They had the biggest selection of guitars, and he explained how they differed from each other.

“We also give lessons, mostly on guitar, but some piano, too. Did I mention that one perk of the job is free lessons?” He grinned. “It helps if you’re familiar with the different guitars so you can steer customers in the right direction and answer some of their questions. It also gives us something to do during slow times. Which one do you want to try?”

“Right now? I can try any of them?”

“Pick your favorite.”

Laura walked around the shop looking closely at the different guitars until finally selecting one of the smaller ones.

“An excellent choice. That’s one of the entry-level guitars, one that people often start out with. It’s less expensive and is great to learn the basics on. Grab a pick from that bowl by the counter and come sit next to me.”

Laura did as he asked, selecting a hot pink pick and then brought the guitar over to where Peter was already seated with his own guitar. She sat next to him and for the next twenty minutes until a customer walked in, Peter showed her the basics, how to hold her hands and use the pick and how to play several chords.

“Keep practicing. You’re doing great. Billy is here for a lesson, so we’re heading out back. Think you can hold down the fort for the next half hour?”

“Sure.”

“Good. If you need help, just holler, and I’ll come out.”

Peter and Billy went off to the back for their lesson and Laura played around with the guitar until another customer came in. She was surprised by how much she liked the feel of the instrument and the strings against her fingers. She also liked the way the chords sounded as she played one after another. She found an instruction book on a shelf nearby and taught herself several more chords. She knew that she’d never played guitar before, but something about it felt so familiar, as if she somehow instinctively knew how to make music. For the first time since she’d come to Montana, she started to feel a spark of excitement, a thrill of discovery.

She set the guitar down and jumped up when a customer came through the door.

“Do you have the newest Pearl Jam CD? I’m drawing a blank on the name.” The customer, a man in his early thirties, asked.

“Let me check.” Laura looked in the database and saw that they had two copies in stock.

“We have it. I’ll show you where it is.” She led him to the aisle and found the two CDs exactly where they should be.

“Great, thanks!”

As Laura was ringing up the sale, Peter and Billy walked towards her. She handed the man his change and CD in a small paper bag and said, “Thank you,”

Billy waved goodbye, and Peter turned to her.

“Everything go all right? Looked like you were doing fine with the register.”

“He bought the new Pearl Jam CD. I hope you don’t mind, but I looked through that instruction book and taught myself a few more chords.”

“You did? Let’s hear.”

Laura picked up the guitar and nervously played the chords she’d taught herself. When she finished, she looked to Peter for feedback and was relieved to see that he was smiling.

“You’re a natural. Let me show you a few more things.”

The rest of the shift flew, and Peter walked her out when they closed the shop at seven.

“You did a great job today. I have you off tomorrow but will see you at three the next day. Sound good?”

Laura smiled. “Yes, thank you. See you then.”

She climbed onto her bike, and ten minutes later pulled into her aunt’s driveway and led the bike into the garage. As she was leaning it against the garage wall, she noticed something in a far corner and walked over to investigate. There was a guitar there, covered with dust and sticking out of a box. In the box were stacks of sheet music and what looked like a very old instruction manual. She wondered whose guitar it had been. Did her aunt play? Surely it wasn’t Harold’s? She picked it up and liked the feel of the wood. It was about the same size as the one she’d been playing in the shop. She rubbed away some of the dust and saw that the guitar itself seemed to be in good condition. She strummed it and grabbed a pick from the bottom of the box. Dusty or not, the guitar sounded just fine as she tried out a few of the chords she’d just learned. She suddenly felt ridiculously happy as she set the guitar back in the box and then went inside to ask her aunt about it.

“That was your uncle Jim’s. My husband.” Her eyes grew cloudy, and Laura sensed the sadness surrounding her like a cloak. “He died of colon cancer five years ago. Just three months after being diagnosed.”

“I’m so sorry.” They were sitting at the kitchen table, and Laura glanced at the photo on the wall.

“That’s him.” Her aunt, and a pleasant-faced, brown-haired man that didn’t look at all familiar to Laura, were sitting by a lake. It was a lovely picture, and it frustrated Laura. Why couldn’t she remember these people? Her aunt reached out and patted her hand.

“It’s strange but normal not to remember. The doctor said that you might not get all of your memories back. You’ll just have to create new ones.”

Laura smiled. “I know. I keep reminding myself of that.”

“Why don’t you bring it in? It must be awfully dusty. I don’t play, and I almost tossed it out when we moved, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He loved that guitar. He was pretty good, too. There was some music and books with it too, I think?”

“Yes, everything was in a box out there. You don’t mind if I bring it in? I just had my first lesson at work today, and it would be fun to play with it.”

“No, I don’t mind at all. It would be wonderful to see someone getting some joy out of it.”

* * *

Laura woke early the next morning to get to the bakery by six a.m. Julie, the owner, was there when she arrived and unlocked the front door to let her in. Julie was in her late thirties, with short, spiky black hair and bright green eyes. She had told Laura when she met with her initially that she and her husband bought the bakery five years ago and he did most of the baking while she managed the front of the restaurant.

“Do many people come in this early?” Laura asked as she followed Julie out back and then tied on the pink apron that she handed her. It had big pockets in front and a strap that went around her neck.

“Quite a few, actually. Mostly people who start their jobs early and stop in for a coffee or muffin first. Or some retired folks that are up early and like to meet up with their friends and socialize. You’ll get to know most of them,” Julie said as she showed her how to work the coffee and espresso machines.

“You’ll also answer the phone, which is next to the register, and take any to-go orders. They tend to come in spurts, usually when we are the busiest.”

When they went back out front, a pretty girl with a blonde ponytail came flying through the door.

“I’m so sorry that I’m late.” The words came out in a rush. Julie smiled and introduced them

“Laura, this is Tina. She’s a recent high school grad, too.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tina said as she ran by them to put her stuff out back.

“You’ll like Tina. She has a hard time getting here on time, but she’s a great waitress, and the customers love her. When the counter isn’t busy, you can help her and I’ll be able to use you as a waitress, too, if you’re interested?”

“I’d love that. I’ll do anything.”

Julie smiled. “I like that attitude. You’ll make more money waitressing, but you’ll earn it, too.”

For the first two hours, it wasn’t very busy, and Laura was glad for it as it gave her a chance to get familiar with the bakery before the breakfast rush came in. It also let her chat a bit with Tina, and she discovered that she was also going to Montana State in the fall.

“What are you majoring in?” Tina asked during a rare quiet moment when no one needed them.

“Education, I think. For now, anyway.”

Tina raised her eyebrow. “Having second thoughts about that major?”

“Sort of,” Laura admitted. “I signed up for it, but I may switch to Liberal Arts as I have no idea what I want to do.”

“You could join me in Business. That’s a broad major, and my father said it will give me more options.” She grinned. “I have no idea what I want to do when I get out, either. Something fun, maybe, like marketing.”

The rest of the day flew once the breakfast rush started, and before Laura knew it, it was two o’clock.

“See you tomorrow,” Tina called out as she left, and Laura climbed onto her bike and rode home.

The house was empty when she arrived. Her aunt was back to work. She worked for an attorney’s office as a legal secretary and had worked for the company for over twenty years. She said that she liked the work, and the people were nice.

Laura made herself a cup of lemon tea and then took it to her bedroom. Her first urge was to lay down on the bed and give in to the wave of sadness that seemed to wash over her every day at some point. It usually happened when she slowed down, and no one else was around. It was tempting to curl up in a ball and give in to it, but she didn’t understand where it was coming from and she wanted it to just stop. As long as she kept busy, the bewildering emptiness seemed to stay away. She sensed that it had something to do with the accident.

Every now and then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her aunt watching her carefully with a look of concern. She never said anything, though, and Laura never brought up the strange episodes of sadness that came over her. She didn’t want to upset her aunt and doubted there was anything she could do about them.

She was glad that she’d decided to take both jobs. The people at both places seemed nice enough, and the work was interesting. Most importantly, it gave her something to do, to keep her too busy to feel sad. She walked over to the guitar leaning against the wall by her bed. She picked it up and played the chords she’d learned, both the ones that Peter taught her and the ones she’d learned herself. She smiled and she felt the sadness ebb as the joy of the music took hold. The hours fell away as she practiced what she’d learned the day before and played around teaching herself two more chords using the book she’d found in the garage.

For the first time since the accident, she slept peacefully and woke feeling energized. Over the next few weeks, she fell into a routine of going from one job to the next, visiting Harold with her aunt on the weekends. She and Tina became fast friends and often went out with a crowd of girls and boys that Tina went to school with. Laura quickly became friends with all of them and the periods of sadness came less frequently. She enjoyed the fast pace of the bakery and the camaraderie of working with Tina and the other waitresses, but she loved her time at the music shop. The pace there was slower, and she discovered a real passion and talent for music.

Peter worked with her whenever it was slow and was thrilled with how quickly she seemed to be picking things up.

“Guitar isn’t an easy instrument to learn. And I’ve noticed that you seem to have a natural ear for the melodies. Do you find yourself able to reproduce songs that you hear?”

Laura smiled. “Yes, I’ve just started to play with doing that. Now that I’m comfortable with the chords, I’m starting to recognize them when I hear songs played and I’ve been trying to play what I remember.”

“Not many people can do that. You really seem to have a gift for this.” He grinned.

“You should try to write a song now.”

“What? I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Laura said with a chuckle.

“Start paying attention to the rhythm of some of the songs you like. There are patterns to all of them, chorus lines that are repeated. Try it both ways. Think of some lines, then find music to wrap around them. Or find a melody you like and then find the right words for it. There’s no right or wrong way.”

“Do you write songs?” Laura asked. She was intrigued by the idea.

“I do. Tell you what. You go home tonight and write something. Anything. Don’t worry about it being good or even making sense. Just play with the words and find a melody you like. Bring it in tomorrow and we’ll play for each other. Deal?”

“I don’t know,” Laura hesitated.

“Oh come on. It’s something to do. Aren’t you getting tired of practicing the same chords over and over?”

Laura chuckled. “All right. I’ll give it a try. It might be really bad, though.”

“No worries. You have to start somewhere.”