by Arlo Arrow
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Sweet Harmony
An Older Man, Younger Woman Romance
Arlo Arrow
Illustrated by
Natasha Snow
Edited by
Teresa Banschbach
Contents
Mailing List
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
About Arlo Arrow
Also by Arlo Arrow
Copyright © 2017 by Arlo Arrow
All rights reserved.
Cover design © 2017 by Natasha Snow
Edited by Teresa Banschbach
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the authors’ imagination.
Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.
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Chapter 1
Susan
Hushed conversations buzzed around my head as I stood in the foyer of my parents’ house—my house—and greeted family friends that I had not seen in years. I dabbed at my eyes, swollen from sleeplessness and tears, but I plastered a fake smile across my face.
I shook hands while near-strangers told me the same old funeral clichés. I’m sorry for your loss, they’d say with downturned eyes. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you during this time, they’d offer, sometimes pressing a check into my hand. Money wasn’t really an issue when you’re the last living family member. Nothing could help me now.
I looked around the room, the smiling faces of my parents and younger brother staring back at me from their frames. I wasn’t sure if they were in a better place like the sentiment people kept repeating to me. But, I knew that I was in a terrible place.
“How are you doing?” my aunt Rachel asked, rubbing my shoulder. “If you want to duck away for a moment, I can take over. I know this is a lot for you to handle right now.”
It was hard to look at my late father’s sister. She looked so much like him with her dark hair and emerald eyes, the same eyes that I had.
“I’m fine,” I said, looking at the floor. People were already starting to leave the luncheon, wandering back into the sunlight once they had their fill of finger foods and small talk. I was counting down the hours until I could be alone again.
“Susan,” Rachel implored. “Don’t try to do too much. You’re not responsible for any of this.”
I knew she meant that I wasn’t responsible for entertaining funeral guests, but I couldn’t help but hear the second meaning in her words. She was wrong on both accounts—people wanted to give their condolences to me, as meaningless as they sounded. Also, I was responsible for what happened to my family, the only people in the world I truly loved.
I tried to avert my eyes from the photographs that I was included in. I couldn’t stand to see my youthful self so happy. Most of the photos were of me at my violin recitals over the years. In fact, there were few pictures of me without my violin. It was my whole identity—I’d been playing since the age of five and had done little else in my free time but practice.
Now, I wanted to smash the delicate wood to tiny pieces. My parents supported me so much throughout the years with my music. They spent thousands of dollars buying violins and paying for my lessons. They even paid for my gown that I wore for my first performance in the orchestra, my first big job. Unfortunately, they never got the chance to see me in it.
Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe it was too much for me to stand at the door and talk to everyone. I turned to retreat to my childhood bedroom when I saw my old violin tutor walk through the door.
I couldn’t remember the last time I spoke to Jeffrey Knight. I saw him in the audience of my senior recital a few years back, but he was gone before we could talk. It must have been at my last lesson with him before my freshman year of college.
He looked the same as ever, with the addition of a few subtle streaks of grey in his brown hair. His square jaw was clenched as if he were uncomfortable in his surroundings. I didn’t blame him—I was uncomfortable too.
Growing up, I had a huge crush on Jeffrey. He was always so well put together and handsome that I couldn’t help but swoon when he flashed me a broad smile after I completed a piece. It was all perfectly harmless, though. He was my dad’s friend, an old colleague from their days in the orchestra. Jeffrey was first chair violin while my dad played the oboe. Jeffrey always teased Dad about me not following in his footsteps with my choice of instrument. There was something so beautiful, so sorrowful about the way the strings produced such powerful sounds with the bow. The moment I started playing, I fell in love.
For a while, I was a part of Jeffrey’s life. I saw him at least once a week for years. I even played at his wedding to his gorgeous wife. I remember how proud he was when she gave birth to their first child, then their second. Grace would even sit in on occasion, just listening to the music while rocking a child to sleep. I felt like part of their family,
Even after I stopped taking lessons with Jeffrey, his family would come over to my parents’ house for dinner on occasion. He was like the cute, young uncle of the family or an older brother’s cool friend. There was something about him that drew me to him. There was something enchanting about him.
But, as I grew up and out of my parents’ house, I saw less and less of him. I once overheard my dad telling my mom that Jeffrey was too busy with his husband and fatherly duties to go out for dinners with them. Suddenly, he cut off contact with the world. If my parents were concerned, they didn’t show it. They had lots of colorful, artistic friends that came and went with the wind.
So, it was a bit of a surprise to spot him in the back of the concert hall on the night of my final performance. I played his favorite Vivaldi piece and could practically hear his excited voice in my head directing me through all the crescendos. I ran through the backstage to find him outside the concert hall, ready for his critique, but he was nowhere to be found. I wanted his feedback; it was always the most truthful.
Seeing him that night, part of me wanted to show him how good I had gotten in his absence. I wasn’t much of a bragger, but I wanted him to notice me, not as a chil
d learning the violin, but as a woman, ready for her first shot at making a real living. I wanted him to be impressed by me, to really notice me.
That’s why seeing him at the funeral made my head spin. I had all but forgotten about his existence until he walked through that door. Perhaps it was because I had hardly eaten since the accident, or because I was under so much stress, but the sight of him nearly made my knees buckle. I caught myself on the stair railing before anyone could notice that I was about to faint.
Well, almost everybody.
“Susan,” Jeffrey said in a concerned voice, rushing to my side. “Are you okay?”
I flashed him a look as he wrapped his arm around my waist to support me.
“Oh,” he said, releasing my side. “I suppose that’s an incredibly stupid question. Of course, you aren’t.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, turning to face him. “I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just really surprised to see you. Really surprised.”
He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I’ve been keeping a lower profile these days. But, when I heard about what happened, I knew I had to see you.”
“Me?” I said, feeling my cheeks going red.
“Yes, you,” he answered. “You were my most talented student and your parents were my friends. How could I not pay my respects to your family? I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling.”
“Not great,” I said. “But it really helps to see that so many people cared about my parents and Luke.”
I noticed that he was still hovering close to me as if he were ready to catch me at any moment. It felt nice. For the first time in days, I felt the tiniest amount of relief.
“Do you want to sit down somewhere?” he asked, still looking at me like I could shatter into a thousand pieces.
I nodded. “Get me away from these people,” I said, cracking a tiny smile.
He returned a knowing smile and ushered me to the back patio. Rachel could take over.
“If there’s anything I can do for you during this time, just let me know,” he said, placing a glass of water and a small sandwich in front of me.
“There’s not, but thanks for the offer,” I said. Surprisingly, it didn’t annoy me when he offered to help. It seemed a little more genuine coming from him. “Honestly, I wish I could just make this all go away. I feel terrible for even saying it, but for a few minutes, I want to forget this nightmare even happened.”
“Tell me about your music,” he interrupted.
“What?” I asked, caught off guard by the sudden change of subject.
“Tell me about school and everything you’ve done since then. Tell me about your life. I still think about you and wonder what you’re up to.”
“Well, I had a lot of great opportunities to work with some of the best during school. When I graduated, my professors promised me that I would find great success.”
“And?”
“Let’s just say, it’s not easy to make a living as a musician.”
He laughed a deep laugh that shook something inside of me. “You don’t have to tell me that,” he said. “No, of course, it’s not easy. But, that’s what makes it fun.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, it’s real fun to play in the park, practically begging strangers to drop a few dollars into my case. It’s downright humiliating at times.”
“Sure,” he replied, taking a sip of water, “but that’s what makes it so rewarding when you finally make it. You’ll get there someday.”
I looked away sheepishly. “Well, I kind of did make it,” I said. “I had just played my first concert with the orchestra when—”
My voice broke. Jeffrey grabbed my hands in his. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Oh, you poor thing,” he said, raising my hands slightly toward his body.
I blinked back the tears. “I’m okay,” I said.
Suddenly, he released my hands and stood up from his chair as if he suddenly remembered that he needed to be somewhere else.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, but he didn’t have the chance to answer.
“There you two are,” Rachel said. “Jeffrey, it’s so nice to see you again. Would you be willing to say hello to a few people? My brother just adored you.”
“Um, I don’t know,” he stuttered. “I was just about to go.”
“Please, Jeffrey,” she pressed. “It would really mean a lot to the family to know that you were here.”
“Okay,” he said, looking back at me.
“Thanks,” Rachel said, taking him by the arm and leading him back into the house.
My immediate instinct was to follow him, to hang on every word he said. I had a bad habit of doing that, though. Instead, I stayed seated on the patio chair where I used to make wishes on the shooting stars. I would let him leave again, without any explanation. It was easier that way.
Chapter 2
Jeffrey
It was strange speaking to Susan, almost as if she were a completely different person from the girl I knew years ago. I always enjoyed being around Susan—she was serious about her studies, but also fiery and fun. She was a beautiful young lady when I taught her, but she became truly stunning as an adult.
When I saw her at the funeral, I couldn’t believe the thoughts that were going through my head. We spoke like old friends for a while, but the second I touched her hands, something changed.
She was the only daughter of my good friend who was now deceased. I shouldn’t have been looking at her and thinking about how beautiful she was in the first place. It was a relief when Rachel came in to break the tension between us.
I expected Susan to come along but was thankful that she didn’t. The last thing I wanted was to have any more of those thoughts about her. It was a testament to how pathetic and lonely I was feeling in that moment. Everything in my life was so shitty that even my dead friend’s daughter appealed to me. Just when I thought I couldn’t hate myself anymore, I managed to exceed all expectations.
Yes, it was better to be away from her. I could pay my respects to the Harper family, speak to a few people, and then retreat to my home. I could go home and try to forget this all happened.
“Jeffrey Knight,” a voice said from behind me. “Is that you?”
I turned around to see a few friends from the orchestra. I grimaced but contorted my mouth into a somewhat believable smile.
“I can’t believe it,” I said with false enthusiasm. “How the hell have you been?” I asked Mark and Stephanie, a married couple that carried the brass section back in the day.
“We’ve been well,” Stephanie said solemnly. “We were playing the night of the accident. Poor girl had no idea until after the performance.”
“Her first one, too,” Mark added. “But, the orchestra is like family, you know. We’ll all do our best to take care of her.”
I nodded, not particularly wanting to talk about Susan.
“I’m sure there’s a spot for you if you ever want to come back,” Mark said. “We all miss you.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I replied. “I haven’t really been playing a lot lately. I do some lessons, but I don’t think I’m at the top of my game anymore.”
“You’re afraid that the girl is better than you,” Stephanie joked. “You have good reason to be. She probably is.”
I forced a small laugh. “Well, she did learn from the best.”
“How are the kids?” she asked. “Are they your next project?”
“They aren’t really interested in the violin. I tried, but ultimately, I must respect their wishes. They’re still young, so maybe they’ll get involved in music when they’re a little older.”
“That’s a shame,” Mark said softly. “But our kids are really no better. The kind of stuff they listen to these days can hardly be considered music. The other day, my son told me that he wants to be a DJ. Can you imagine?”
We laughed and I couldn’t help but imagine Scott and Caroline Harper laughing along with us. They loved their kids and loved talking with othe
r parents. I remember them giving me a lot of advice when my children were born. They were a little older than me, so they had already experienced the same things I was about to go through. For a while, they felt like older siblings offering their best advice and telling me about their mistakes.
For a moment, I got lost in the memories of better times, the times where I had close friends to spend my time with. I even forgot about my plan to escape the reception as quickly as possible until I saw Susan reenter, her violin in hand. She looked like she was about to be sick.
“Could I have your attention?” Rachel asked the crowd. Everyone fell silent and directed their eyes toward the tall, thin woman with long raven hair. Beside her stood her quivering niece, pale in the face.
“Susan is going to play a piece in tribute to her parents and brother. If everyone could gather near, that would be great.”
A collective “aww” filled the house as guests crowded around her to hear her play. If anyone knew the Harper family, they knew how exceptional Susan was on the violin. This would be a special treat.
Susan sank into the chair and with one shaky arm, raised the violin to her chest. Silence fell over the crowd, ready for the rich emotions that resonate from the strings.
After a long pause, Susan finally raised her bow, and with a steady motion, pulled it across the strings. A long, mournful note sounded before she crumbled, her hands dropping to her sides.
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I can’t play.” She began to sob, her chin tucking into her chest.
Impulsively, I rushed to her side and she shoved me away, leaving her violin in my arms. She took off down the hallway, leaving the guests in stunned silence.
“Would you do the honors, dear?” Rachel asked me with a weary look before following her niece.
