A Past Refrain

by Brenda Barrett

  Abigail almost missed what Jayce said because she was looking at her mother. She was seated in the settee with a sketch in her hand.

  Abigail was torn between looking at what the sketch depicted and drinking in her mother. Fourteen years. She hadn't aged much, except for a sprinkling of gray hairs where there had been black and a slight sag to her jaw. She was aging well and looked remarkably composed. She looked a bit like an older version of Beatrice, Abby realized.

  She snapped her head around when Pastor Greenwald held out his hand to her. She put hers in his and shook it. She didn't hear Jayce's explanation of why she was there. Sis Greenwald looked up at her and smiled sweetly, with a twinkle in her eye.

  "My Haley drew this," she said, holding up the picture.

  Abigail sat down across from her and saw that it was a sketch she had done of her family. She had dreams of being an artist a long time ago. Jayce sat down beside her, and Pastor Greenwald remained standing.

  "You said you had news about Haley?" he asked, an anxious note to his voice.

  "Yes," Jayce said. "I found out that she died four years ago."

  "No." Her mother's eyes were the first to well up with tears and then her father walked stiltedly to the living room window, keeping his back to them.

  "What killed her?" he asked hoarsely.

  "Car accident," Jayce said, "but I have to admit it's strange. There is no record of a burial or even where her grave is, but there's a death certificate."

  Her mother started sobbing in earnest and Abigail wanted to shout at Jayce to stop. How could he be so cruel in telling about Haley's death so abruptly and unsympathetically? She realized when she saw the very real grief of the people in front of her that they weren't as indifferent to her as she had thought.

  "I caused it." Pastor Greenwald turned around. His eyes were red and damp. "My family is in a shambles, Jayce, and I caused it."

  Jayce nodded and glanced at Abigail. She had tears in her eyes as well, and she didn't even realize.

  "I beat her so badly that night when you came over to the house that my wife thought she was dead the morning after." He shook his head, "I was so ashamed of what I did after I did it that I couldn't face her the day after. I was happy that she went away, so I wouldn't have to admit how much I was wrong. I was beating her but in reality I was beating myself."

  He swallowed and said gruffly, "You might as well know. We conceived our first girl out of wedlock. I was going to theological school but I was wild. Hannah was one of six girls I was seeing, and she was the one who got pregnant."

  He reached in his pocket and found a kerchief. "I had to marry her and put a good spin on it. You know, re-invent myself as a strait-laced kind of guy."

  "So you were extremely hard on your girls because of that?" Jayce responded with a sigh.

  "Yes," Pastor Greenwald nodded, "but ironically I drove them straight into harm. Haley was our last chance to get things right. Hannah had difficulty with her pregnancy and we knew we couldn't have any more children. I was determined that the last one would be perfect."

  "He changed when we got married," Hannah whispered. "He became someone I didn't like."

  "But I am doing better," Greenwald said to Hannah.

  "Yes," Hannah nodded. "You are."

  "So why didn't you contact your daughter after she left?" Abigail demanded. "Why show grief now, when you had years and years to get in touch with her?"

  Her eyes swiveled between them.

  Pastor Greenwald looked like he was about to protest at her, a stranger, questioning them but he said instead, "It was shame. I forbade Hannah to contact her. I didn't want to face what I had done. I didn't want to say I was sorry and beg her to come back home."

  Abigail got up.

  "Where are you going?" Jayce asked.

  "I don't want to hear any more," Abigail said, moving toward the door.

  "But why?" Jayce asked. "You don't know Haley; this shouldn't affect you in any way at all."

  Abby stopped. She really was acting weird for somebody who was not supposed to know these people. She couldn't turn around, though. For the life of her, she couldn't stand to see their grief for Haley. She wanted to yell at them and contrarily she wanted to hug them.

  They were as flawed as everybody else and they had really bungled the whole parenting thing, both of them. Instead of being himself, her father had allowed the guilt of his past to turn him into a fire-spitting monster who was determined to correct his mistakes by punishing his children for what he imagined were his traits. In his eagerness to do so, he had watched as each of his girls fell into the same pit that he did.

  Burdened with guilt because of how they had started out, her mother had turned into a mouse, not wanting to deal with her past.

  Abigail breathed out. She wanted to start over with them—she was tired of being somebody else—but she couldn't. She took two steps to the door.

  "He is dead, Abby," Jayce said quietly. "He died this morning…took twenty-odd pills with a whole bottle of whisky."

  Abigail stiffened. She felt as if she literally couldn't move. "Who is dead?"

  She slowly turned around. The Greenwalds were watching their exchange curiously and Jayce was looking at her with sympathy in his eyes.

  "Oliver Hillman." He reeled the name off smoothly.

  Abigail swayed where she was. Why was he telling her that? Did he know who she really was?

  "Yes," Jayce said in reply to her unspoken question. "I know."

  Abigail sank to the floor. She didn't faint; she just sat where she was. Her mind felt locked and frozen.

  "Is she all right?" Hannah was looking at her with concern.

  "Yes, she is," Jayce said, "more than all right. She is just in shock. That's all."

  He looked at the Greenwalds. "This will come as a shock to you, as it did me, but this is Haley. She had to reinvent herself because she feared for her life. I am sure she will tell you the story later, because I am also sure that she wants to reconcile with you."

  Greenwald gasped. "What?"

  *****

  It took them a further half an hour to leave; Hannah clung to Abby, hugging her as they cried together. Jayce had to cancel lunch with Logan.

  "But why?" Melody asked. "We can't have lunch without you."

  She had barely accepted his excuses when Jayce hung up the phone.

  "Haley," he whispered. She was catatonic on the couch. "Should I call you Haley or Abby?"

  Fresh tears sprang to Abby's eyes. "I like both names. It is going to feel strange to be Haley again. I will be Haley with a different face. I can't believe that you know. How?"

  "Your handwriting." Jayce hunkered beside her. "All this time, my heart knew but it took the rest of me time to catch up. Last night I was reading one of your letters from '97 and I compared it to a list that you did the other day. It clicked…then everything clicked."

  "Listen," he looked into her tear-washed eyes, "I am not into long engagements. I am not letting you out of my sight again for the foreseeable future and I just want you to know that I loved you then, and I love you now, whoever you are and however you look."

  Haley grinned and pulled him down to her. "I love you too, Jayce, forever and always."

  October 5, 2012

  They were in the warehouse again, upstairs in the band room. This time all of them had a wife by their side. The couple of the hour was Jayce and Haley. The banners read 'Happy Birthday Jay and Hay'. They were all dressed in white because General Morgan had decided that today was as good a day as any to get married and he wanted a white wedding. They had just returned from his reception at the beach.

  "I had to throw a party today," Melody said, on the mike, "because this day is a glorious day for us. It is our friends’ birthday, Jayce and Haley."

  She cleared her throat. "Xavier and Farrah have a little announcement to make and my hubby was promoted to senior partner in his law firm today. Let's just say, for the record, that Jayce's curse theory has f
ailed. This day is splendiferous. I don't know if that's a word and I don't care." She laughed and did a little jig.

  Jayce laughed. He was sitting in his favorite beanbag chair but this time, he had company. Haley was snuggled in his lap. So much had happened in the past year that he was thinking that his blessing cup was overflowing. They too had a little announcement to make; they had only found out this morning that Haley was expecting.

  The Greenwalds were constant visitors to the house now, and as Haley liked to remark, her father's transformation was a miracle. Pastor Greenwald had gone humble. When Jayce teased him about it, he always remarked that he was in a better place now. It was better to be humble and admit you are wrong than to be full of pride without a family around. His other girls had slowly started visiting again after Haley had tentatively extended a hand of friendship to them. Their reaction was encouraging. It was as if they had been waiting to come home.

  They still had their kinks and their differences of opinion. Just last week, Haley and her father had a showdown about his attitude. It had ended well, with Greenwald actually saying sorry.

  Melody jolted him from his reminiscing, saying, "The band will now, as a yearly favor to Jayce, play his favorite song. Ain't It Enough by Maxi Priest."

  Jayce grinned. "Thanks guys!"

  "You should be," Carson mumbled. "I can't understand why you like this song so much, though. Never could, and let it be known that I will complain every year until you find a new favorite song."

  "It's simple," Jayce laughed, "a girl named Haley wrote me a letter and put it at the back of the CD with this particular song, and she told me that she would love me forever and always. The letter and the song became synonymous to me. See: mystery solved."

  Carson grinned. "Got it. And we all know you will never get over this Haley girl."

  "Nope, never," Jayce said. "Never ever." He kissed her softly as the opening notes to the song swelled around them.

  The End

  Author's Notes

  Dear Reader,

  THANK YOU for reading A Past Refrain! If you enjoyed reading this book, PLEASE leave a review wherever you bought it.

  You can also check out my BOOK LIST, for other New Song titles. You will also find other titles and upcoming books and their release dates.

  If you have comments or suggestions, I welcome them. You can reach me and receive a reply at brenalbar@gmail.com.

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  Continue scrolling for an excerpt from A Past Refrain, Book 5 in the New Song Series.

  Thanks again. All the best,

  Brenda

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Perfect Melody

  Logan and Melody's story

  Melody straightened her spine and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a cross between a warrior princess and a harem belly dancer. Dramatic eye makeup highlighted her chestnut brown eyes and what she thought were stubby short eye lashes were now long and lush after she applied mascara. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, thanks to the wonders of the right foundation and her full lips were practically sparkling with a tan lipstick called fairy dust.

  Her clothes were also perfectly chosen, to give the impression of a femme fatale on the prowl. Her red dress had on little sparkling dust, flared sleeves, and it bared her smooth midsection, which didn't look too bad thought she had twins.

  Her matching red stilettos, which she had long kicked off, were in the corner of the room. She contemplated going for them but felt it was too much trouble. Instead, she pointed the camera toward the bed, which was littered in red roses, posed in the center of the shot, and tried to look seductive.

  She twisted and preened as she repeatedly pressed the camera's remote shutter release button she had in her hand. As the flash went off she dared various positions and then finally she got tired. That would have to do. She hung off the edge of the bed not wanting her foundation to mess up the ivory sheets. One by one the tears gathered especially when she heard the clock in the living room chime just once. It was one in the morning—an unholy time to be awake and alone on your anniversary and taking pointless pictures to memorialize it.

  She had put on the dress and makeup six hours ago and felt like a princess. She had even straightened her naturally curly hair so it would flow down her waist and she had on a tiara with little red diamonds in it. She had a fantasy that she would be the harem girl and Logan would be king. They sometimes role-played to spice up their sex life.

  Weeks ago, at breakfast, Logan had suggested that he had an eastern fantasy and winked at her. She had liked the idea, and when she likes something, she usually goes all out. She had gone so far as to have the outfits made and had fixed the interior of the room like a tent; sheer jewel like colored material draped the king sized bed like what she imagined an exotic Arabian tent would look like. She had spent most of her day preparing the room. She had even sent the children to Alice and Carson, relieved that they were not underfoot while she worked steadily.

  When she viewed herself in the mirror with the decorative backdrop, after her exhaustive day of renovating, she had liked what she was seeing; she had really captured the fantasy. She looked like a refreshing break from the norm, she didn't look like Zack and Lauren's mother, president of the PTA, or Sis Melody, head of the welfare department at their church; neither did she look like manager of the New Song Band. She had felt dominant and passionate and alluring and she had looked it. Her background Arabic music had even complimented the room. She was in full seductive mood; even the perfume wafting up to her nose was a turn on. Her extremely tall stilettos made her feel tall and in charge.

  But now slumped on the bed she felt the vestiges of depression creeping upon her, these past few months she had tried to stop it but since her initial happiness at Logan's promotion she had realized that she had nothing much to celebrate. Yes, they had more money than ever, and yes it was his dream come true to make senior partner but in just four short months she was realizing what a huge toll his promotion was having on all aspects of their life.

  He had run out of their Christmas celebrations because new evidence had been found for a case he was working on. Their New Year celebrations was a nonstarter with him on the phone with other managing partners discussing business. These days he hardly had time for band practice; sometimes he didn't even remember that it was Wednesday. And now the biggest blunder of them all; the ultimate insult to injury: Logan forgot one of their key anniversaries, the one that he insisted that they celebrate. He had declared that if they ever missed the celebration of, then it would mean that their romance was dying.

  They had three anniversaries as opposed to the usual one that normal couples had, they celebrated the day they met which was pretty dramatic, he had saved her from drowning at the beach, ten years ago today.

  Their next yearly celebration was the day they fell in love, which took place on March 1, and their third anniversary was the day they married, which was in June.

  It was cute and sappy and their friends thought it ridiculous but Logan had insisted that he always wanted to remember the day that he saved her and to commemorate it they had to have a yearly anniversary, where they had no kids around, no friends around just them and whichever fantasy they had managed to envision for the day; through the years they had really come up with some zingers.

  It would be surprising to many persons, even his closest friends, that Logan, universally known as serious and firm and self possessed, could be romantic and generous and was given to over the top gestures.

  He hadn't even called today. She had until now thought that he would have come home and surprised her earlier in the evening, some years he pretended to forget and then had the most wonderful surprises after his 'forgetfulness' but these days she could sense that Logan was not all here and it bothered her.

  She ref
used to call him, he would answer the phone and sound distant and possibly snap at her as he did yesterday and she didn't know if she could take an abrupt stilted conversation right now. She felt like an idiot for preparing for this night so thoroughly, she sniffed and grabbed a wad of tissues from the drawer at the side of the bed.

  Logan glanced at the time and raked his hand through his hair. Where had the time gone? He had not even dented the trial brief that he had to present tomorrow in court. He was covered in paperwork for preparation, trying to acquaint himself with a case that he had inherited from Thaddeus Masters the third, a founding partner of Masters, Gilrich and Eddison.

  He had been offered the incredulous position of managing partner and he had grabbed it with both arms. Managing partners got a higher percentage of the profits; they chose cases, voted on important company decisions and in general had more free time. What he was doing now was grunt work and not even work in his area. Thaddeus Masters had personally asked him, tears in the old man's eyes, to deal with this case for him; that alone had Logan intrigued.

  Thaddeus was as tough as nails and as shrewd as an old fox, but this case involved his illegitimate daughter, a spa employee who had accidentally killed her client in a bizarre set of circumstances that he as her reluctant lawyer was still trying to work out.

  Logan should have said no to taking the case. He was not acquainted with all the ins and outs of the thing. Additionally it was a criminal case and he was a Family Lawyer. He was more comfortable in family court than criminal court, give him a regular old divorce any day, or a child support, or spousal support case, but this case was a pain. Thaddeus owed him big time because he knew he could not help out his secret daughter, he had had to confide in him.