Chapter Thirty-Three
“Stubborn thing, that muse of yours,” Zee said as she handed him a plate of fluffy pancakes and the bottle of syrup. The kind he preferred, had since—and probably because of—his childhood, that had a lot more sugar than maple in it, but since he didn’t do it often he didn’t worry about it much. But he noted that she had it on hand, even though he knew she preferred the more genuine kind. “Or maybe overworked.”
“Maybe,” he said as he swallowed the bite he’d just spent a good minute savoring. “More like a contrary kid. She didn’t want to play until I said ‘Fine, I quit.’ Just like Deck told me.”
She smiled at him then. “And then she was all, ‘Well, if you’re going to be that way about it?’”
Jamie grinned. “Pretty much.” He took another bite. His appetite had come back along with the music, and with a vengeance. “Although she’s liable to get mad at me again when she finds out she’s down a notch in the priority list.”
Zee stopped in the act of refilling his coffee mug. Set the pot down. Stared at him.
“What?”
He waved a hand at nothing in particular, that seemed to include everything. “After this. Us.”
“You…mean that?”
He put down his fork. He thought she’d known. But then he’d thought that once before, and been very, very wrong.
“If there’s anything I’ve learned out of this, Zee, it’s what fed the music. What makes it worth it. This place. And you.”
The way she looked at him in that moment made his heart soar as much as the return of the music had. What happened then was well worth the time spent washing sticky maple syrup out of his hair.
And later, when he’d gone back to Aunt Millie’s house while Zee ran some errands, he finally felt strong enough. He went to the case that held that precious old acoustic, where he had tucked the letter Zee had given him that day at the storage locker. He pulled it out, stared at it for a moment. Then he looked around the house she had left him, nodded, and looked back. He ran a finger over the writing on the front before he opened the envelope.
Dearest Jamie,
If I know you, and I do, you’ve put off reading this for a while. And that’s all right; a letter from the grave, as it were, requires the right frame of mind. But first things first.
Thank you.
Thank you for making my life so worthwhile, for giving me such joy, filling me with such pride. I never thought to have these things, but you gave them to me a thousand times over. That such happiness could rise out of such pain is no small miracle. And the way you expressed it all in your music was an endless delight to me.
This is not the end I would have chosen, I would much rather have been that little old lady in the front row at one of your shows, with all the youngsters around me wondering what was with the old gal, anyway. But know that I will be there, always, for I believe that music is the connection between this world and whatever other realms there may be, silly and mystical as that sounds. Wherever you are, whatever path your beautiful talent leads you to follow, know that I will be there, ever cheering you on.
You often said you owed me more than you could ever repay. But you’re wrong, sweet boy. When I’d nearly given up, you gave me more than I ever hoped to have out of this life.
I do not want this to be a long, weepy screed, so I’ll close with two pieces of advice—you knew this was coming, right? One, hang on tight to the one you love, because as you know too well there are no guarantees that the tomorrow in “I’ll mend fences tomorrow,” will ever come. Two, whenever you’re hurting, whenever you’re tangled up inside, if you’re maybe missing the crazy aunt who loved you so much, you take the Mustang out for a run. It’s as close to a hug as I can give you.
I love you, Jamie. And if there’s anything that endures forever, it’s that.
Aunt Millie
PS: Cut your Zinnia Rose some slack. She’ll get there.
He’d never truly laughed and cried at the same time before, but he was doing it now. He wiped at his eyes, and it was hard to breathe because his throat was so tight, but he had to because he was also laughing and needed the air.
He read the letter again.
“I love you, Aunt Millie,” he whispered. “Thank you back.”
And then he read the PS once more, and this time the laugh won out. Because once again, Aunt Millie had been absolutely right.
*
“Did that guy find Jamie all right?”
Zee blinked. As usual, she had pretty much tuned out Martha’s stream of chatter as she rang up the purchase. She’d been glad to finally have reached the end of her afternoon of errands, anxious to get back to Jamie. So when Martha said his name her inner thoughts and outer reality collided with a jolt.
“What guy?” she asked.
“The one from L.A. The flashy one.”
Zee drew back slightly. “Not Boots,” she said; although the tall, lanky man had indeed been here from L.A. again last week, nobody on the planet would describe him as flashy.
She’d been glad to see him, to see that the friendship between he and Jamie had survived the breakup of Scorpions. The two men had spent a lot of time together while Boots had been here, and she’d given them plenty of room even though Boots had taken her aside and thanked her.
“With you he’s whole again,” he’d told her. “You always were the missing piece.”
She’d hugged the man for that.
“No,” Martha said with a laugh, “not Boots.”
Then who? Zee wondered. Leigh, the keyboard player, had been here a couple of days before Boots on her way home to Oklahoma, but since she was obviously female she didn’t qualify as the “guy.”
“I mean the manager guy who was here an hour or so ago,” Martha said.
“Manager?”
Martha frowned. “You know, the band’s manager? He said he and Jamie had a lot to talk about, so I figured that was why you were here on your own.”
Zee said something, she wasn’t even sure what, and escaped the sudden chill of the store into the bright sunshine. It didn’t warm her much.
Her car, gleaming green in the sun, was parked at the end of the row in the small lot. She made it there. Got in. Closed the door. The heat that had built even in the short time she’d been inside surrounded her. Yet she still felt chilled. Made no move, as she normally would, to quickly start the car and turn on the air conditioning.
First Leigh. Then Boots. Now their manager?
And all of this within a week after he’d finally broken through, when new music had begun to flow out of him nearly as fast as ever. Beginning with the song he’d written for her. The song he’d told her was only the latest, because in a way they’d all been written for her.
And with it had come his old energy, the snappingly vivid spark that brought audiences alive, as if he were able to transfer it directly to them in a way few could. He was born for that, and well she knew it. She’d always known it.
And she’d been so overjoyed that the dam had broken that she had forgotten she might be one of the casualties of the flood.
*
It took Zee a while to work up to going out to the house. So long that she began to question what on earth was wrong with her. She ended up chiding herself.
You’re afraid of what you’ll find.
She had come back to the office and tried to bury herself in work, but since True had only been back to business for a couple of weeks, it only took a couple of hours to get caught up. Even with…distractions, she wasn’t behind.
And what distractions they were. Sex on the kitchen table, m’girl?
She found herself grinning. But it faded slightly when she thought of having to live with that kitchen table alone, if he left again. She imagined passing it every day, remembering that morning. She’d had to scrub to get all traces of syrup off of it, but nothing could ever scrub that memory from her mind.
If he left again.
Was there really any if about it? He’d gotten what he’d come back here for—his music was back. But…
If there’s anything I’ve learned out of this, Zee, it’s what fed the music. What makes it worth it. This place. And you.
That didn’t sound like a man who’d be heading back to the bright lights and big city.
She suddenly realized she was pacing. That she’d circled the office at least five times, without doing a thing. That her thoughts were circling in much the same way, chasing each other and never solving anything.
She sat down in the office chair. She had to make herself do it, because what she really wanted to do was go sit on the floor in a corner and wrap her arms around her knees, as if that could protect her. It was what she’d done often in the days after the accident.
True used to find her and coax her out, back to the world she hated just then.
Jamie had quietly joined her.
If there’s anything I’ve learned…
If there was anything she’d learned out of that harrowing time, it was that denial only postponed the inevitable. Hiding in a corner and pretending it hadn’t happened had worked for a while, had gotten her to where she could finally face it. Thanks to True’s unwavering support. And the fact that Jamie was there, sharing the pain.
That was a bond that would never, ever be broken, no matter what happened now.
And so she gave herself a few minutes, to remember. To think about what had happened in the time Jamie had been home. In a way he’d survived another death, only this time the miracle had happened, that part of him had not died after all, had only gone dormant, exhausted perhaps.
She and Whiskey River had given that back to him.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have let herself fall in love with him again. But she laughed at herself even as she thought it; as if she had any choice in the matter. She knew that now. For however long she lived, she would ever and always love Jamie Templeton.
A sound out front drew her gaze. True’s truck pulling in next door. And behind him the little blue coupe they’d bought for Hope. They got out and she heard their laughter as, arm in arm, they walked toward his half of the house.
You were determined to take care of him the way he came home and took care of you…
She had been. Especially after Amanda had died. But her brother didn’t need her like that anymore.
She felt an odd sort of pressure building inside her as that realization settled in. Life had spun, changed in a huge way, yet again. It always did.
It always did.
But this time, for True, it was good. It was the best.
And for her?
She didn’t know. But it was time she found out.
And it was time to trust the man she loved.