Heart & Soul: A Guitar Girl Contemporary Inspirational Romance (A Guitar Girl Romance Book 3)

by Hope Franke

  She felt better after she ate. She had a shower. Played the guitar. Went for a walk towards the east end of the quay.

  Later she read a book as she sipped coffee on her terrace. Her eyes kept darting to the higher windows on the house next door. How vain of her to think Callum loitered up there just to watch her.

  She continuously checked the time, waiting for the hour she knew that Julia would be returning home from work. She dialed her friend’s number and held her phone to her ear. “He has a brother.”

  A pause on the other end, then, “Oh my goodness, Gabi. Seriously?”

  “Seriously. And an old girlfriend.”

  “Wait. I think I need a drink. No, keep talking. I’ll pour while you spill.”

  Gabriele made her way back inside to her bedroom and flopped on the bed. If Callum was watching her, she didn’t want him witnessing this call. With her luck, he could read lips. “The brother inherited the house next door.” She sighed. “He’s quite eager for me to leave.”

  Gabriele could hear Julia clanging about in her kitchen. “Why?” she asked. “Did he not know about you, either?”

  “Yeah, he knew. He and Lennon kept in touch.”

  “But why didn’t Lennon tell you about him?”

  Gabriele rubbed the frown lines on her forehead “I don’t know.”

  “This is crazy. Have you told your family?”

  “No. I want to do it in person when I get home.”

  “Naturally. But, wow… Does he look like Lennon?”

  Gabriele hedged. “A little.”

  “That must me so weird for you. Are you all right? It’s not tossing you off the deep end, is it?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Really? You don’t sound fine.”

  “I am. I promise.”

  “When are you coming home?”

  “I don’t know. It depends.”

  “Depends on what?”

  “Just depends, Julia.”

  “Do you want me to come there? I could take a sick day.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll be coming home soon anyway. Selling is sounding like a good idea right about now.”

  “Okay. So what are you doing tonight? Do you have TV?”

  Gabriele hesitated before answering. “I’m going to Callum’s for dinner.”

  “Who’s Callum?”

  “That’s Lennon’s brother.”

  “You’re DATING Lennon’s brother?”

  “NO. For pete’s sake, Julia. I’m searching for answers. He said I could look through photo albums.”

  “And to do this you must eat dinner with him?”

  “Yes. And promise that I’ll be on the first flight out tomorrow morning.”

  “Make sure you take a picture. I can’t wait to see what he looks like. And see if you can sneak one of the girlfriend—did you meet her?”

  Gabriele could picture her friend with wide, curious eyes, as she held her phone to her ear.

  “Yes,” Gabriele answered.

  “That must’ve been so weird!”

  “It was.”

  “And Lennon never mentioned her?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh Gabi. I’m so sorry for you. Like you haven’t had enough shock in your life.”

  “I’ll be okay. But I should go. I have to make myself presentable.”

  “Okay. I can’t wait until you get back. You have to tell me everything!”

  At fifteen minutes to the hour Gabriele was ready. Showered, hair washed and blown-dry. Jeans that fit her curves, a form-fitting blouse. Makeup.

  It wasn’t a date, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to make him wish it were one. It was the only leverage she had. She silently apologized to Lennon.

  She left for the house next door five minutes late, not wanting to appear too eager. Her hands tingled with nerves and she wiped the dampness off on her thighs before knocking.

  The door immediately swung open.

  “You’re late.”

  His face still shocked her, and she wondered if she’d ever get used to seeing Lennon’s likeness. She quickly averted her eyes, shrugging with a pretense of not being perturbed and pushed past him. “Five minutes.”

  “I thought Germans loved precision.”

  “I thought Brits were friendlier.”

  Callum didn’t even crack a smile to prove her wrong. It was going to be an interesting dinner.

  The main entrance opened up into a foyer with hooks on the wall for jackets and a bench for sitting on while you tied up your shoes. There were no jackets or shoes. Gabriele wore a cardigan and kept both it and her shoes on.

  The entrance opened up to a hallway with several doors. The house was large and boxy inside, with the living room, dining room and kitchen all separated from each other. She followed Callum into the living room. A fan hung from a high ceiling, not in use in the cooler fall weather. The walls were covered in old, worn-looking wallpaper. A bookshelf covered one wall, an older television in the middle of it and a brick fireplace built into the corner. The furniture was old and well-used.

  Gabriele waved a hand. “I expected something...”

  “Else? Not old widower chic?”

  “Yeah, more younger guy.” Something that would tell her what Callum was really like. Except for his near identical physical appearance to Lennon, she couldn’t figure him out. She examined the room as he watched her with a mixture of intrigue, amusement in his eyes. And something darker.

  He didn’t like her. Obviously.

  This was clear not only by his poorly suppressed scowl, but by the way he’d been trying to chase her away.

  The question was why. She’d given him no reason to dislike her, and she’d been a perfect neighbour in the short time she’d been here. The answer lay with Lennon, and Callum was being stubbornly tight-lipped about what he knew.

  Hanging on one of the walls was a collection of two-photos-in-one-frame pictures of the Leatherby brothers at different stages of life. Toddlers, early school years, teen years. They were always dressed the same with matching haircuts until the teen photos when it was apparent they were trying to individuate from each other. Gabriele had known Lennon well enough to pick out which child was him in each pairing.

  She stroked the latest picture.

  Callum stepped in beside her. “That was year thirteen of school.”

  “What was it like growing up as identical twins?”

  Callum shrugged and folded his arms.

  “I mean, I have a sister, but she’s younger than me and except for our eyes, we don’t look much alike. We never had the same friends or really hung out that much growing up.”

  “Being together all the time and sharing everything was all Mick and I knew. When we were younger it made us feel special. We were unique. As we got older, we started to resent it. Me more than Mick, I think. We drifted apart. Getting mistaken for someone else by people you’ve known all your life gets old.”

  Gabriele hadn’t thought about it before, but now that she considered Callum’s words, she didn’t think she’d do very well as an identical twin to someone else. She and Eva were very different and Gabriele was glad of it.

  Callum hadn’t shifted away and Gabriele was keenly aware of his nearness. She missed having a man in her life. She missed Lennon.

  But his brother was creating a physical awareness that warmed her. She could feel him looking at her and she risked a glance. His eyes were dark, intense pools of emotion and not necessarily pleasant ones. She took a small step back and removed her cardigan.

  “Whatever you’re cooking smells good,” she said to break the spell.

  “It’s takeout.”

  “You could’ve faked it and impressed me.”

  “That would be lying.”

  She scoffed. “Something I don’t think you have a problem with.”

  He narrowed his gaze at her, but didn’t deny it.

  “Where are those photo albums you promised?”

  Callum pointed t
o the bottom shelf of the bookcase and waved. “Help yourself.”

  Gabriele pulled the first in the row, an old style photo album with a fat wire ring binding with half the fabric worn off. Here was an album that had been opened many times. She settled onto the carpeted floor, crossed her legs and flipped the cover.

  The first pictures were vintage-style photos of a happy couple, arm in arm. The young woman had big 80s hair with poofy bangs and the man wore a mullet, short on top and long at the back. Despite the hair, Gabriele could see that they were a good-looking couple and that by the way they smiled and stared at each other, they seemed to be in love.

  “Your parents.” It was a statement rather than a question. Her parents-in law.

  “Yeah. I don’t remember my mother. She died shortly after I was born.”

  “You mean when Lennon was born. He came second, right?”

  “She was already dead when they pulled him from her body.”

  “Oh.” A deep sadness, deeper than her own, swirled in her heart. “That’s terrible.”

  “Dad did a good job raising us. We lived like a bunch of bachelors, no homemade bread or sweets, but Dad put the effort in to cook for us. He put us in football and kept this roof over our heads.”

  “It’s a nice roof,” Gabriele said. Even with the tired interior, a big house on the beach like this would be worth something. She knew how much the cottage would sell for, an amount that made her blush.

  She caught his gaze. “How did your dad die?”

  Callum’s eyes flickered like he was calculating. “A heart attack.”

  It was what Lennon had told her, but the way Callum had answered, it made her believe it wasn’t true. But why would they lie about that?

  She was getting paranoid.

  Gabriele flipped through pages of print photographs of the boys: playing on the beach, opening presents under a Christmas tree, playing football—standing with their team, white balls underfoot and medals around their necks. Her heart pinged at every clip of Lennon, and then did a dizzying dip when she came to one where he had an arm around a cute little blond girl.

  “That’s Clover?”

  Callum squatted and leaned close over her shoulder. She could smell his aftershave. It was muskier than what Lennon wore, and she was glad he didn’t smell the same. Still, he smelled good and her heart sped up in a very disconcerting manner. She swallowed hard and focused on the picture of the girl.

  “Yes. That was the day of our sixteenth birthday party.” Dad always threw us a big bar-b-que. It became a tradition.

  Gabriele’s heart squeezed as she flipped through more pages of pictures of Lennon and Clover together. She was obviously a big part of his life.

  She sighed. “He never mentioned her.”

  There were pictures of Callum with girls, too. Always a different one. Another way the brothers were different. Lennon was loyal.

  Until he wasn’t.

  She slapped the albums shut, and loaded them back onto the shelf. She didn’t know what she hoped to find, how she thought she would feel while seeing Lennon’s past. Her heart felt hollow.

  “Why did your brother tell you about me, but he never mentioned one word about you?”

  Callum leaned against the door frame that led to the dining room. His shoulders stiffened and a shadow crossed his face. “I wish you could ask him that yourself.”

  “I wish I could too, but clearly I can’t. Why don’t you just tell me?”

  He eyed her, and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her. Then he said, “We should eat.”

  Callum turned and left her feeling frustrated and helpless. Fine. He wouldn’t answer her most burning questions, but that didn’t mean she was done trying.

  “May I use the loo?” Gabriele asked. She wanted to wash her hands before eating but she also needed a small break from Callum, a moment to get her head together.

  “It’s up the stairs, first door to the left.”

  She took her time, taking in the aged wallpaper and the markings on the wall as she went up the steps, every odd one groaning as if it couldn’t bear to lift her weight. How many times had Lennon run up and down these stairs?

  The dimly lit hall had a number of doors and she was instantly curious. She padded quickly by the open bathroom door wondering which closed door was Lennon’s old room. She supposed she could just ask Callum, but he was so irrationally guarded about anything that had to do with his brother, she doubted if he’d be agreeable. All she wanted was a quick look. Maybe she’d see something that would shed a light on what has become a huge mystery. She pressed her fingertips against the first door, hoping it would slide open, but it was firmly shut. She slowly pushed the handle down and it clicked open.

  Just a quick peek.

  It opened to a bedroom, but the bedsheets were mussed and clothes were strewn over a chair. This wasn’t Lennon’s abandoned bedroom. Clearly occupied, it must belong to Callum. She stepped back, feeling like she just crossed a line into his personal space and had started closing the door when her eyes landed on a set of small binoculars on a table by the window. A dark cloud filled her chest, and even though she instinctively knew what the view was beyond, she had to see it for herself. She skipped across the room to the window, pushed back the net curtains and swallowed. A perfect view of her terrace.

  She hadn’t imagined it. He was peeping on her!

  Why?

  Her eyes darted around the room. She didn’t know what she was looking for, anything to explain what was going on. His dresser top was clear except for a few sundry items: a brush, cologne, a tie curled up like a snake in a basket. One of the smaller drawers near the top was opened a crack. Gabriele peeked inside. She eased the drawer open carefully and frowned. Passports for three different countries, none of them England.

  Who did they belong to?

  Before she could take a look, her attention snapped aware to the creaking of the stairs. She darted out of the room and gently closed the door just as Callum topped the stairs. His eyes narrowed. “Gabriele?”

  “Sorry, I got a little disoriented.” She faked an embarrassed smile. “Silly me.”

  He pinned her to the wall with a suspicious glare. She forced herself to stand tall and walk by him back down the stairs.

  “You don’t mind if we eat in the kitchen?” Callum asked stiffly as he followed her from behind.

  “Not at all.” She stopped to let him pass. The hallway was narrow and he took his time inching by her, head bent as he stared down hard. She carefully kept her eyes averted, fully aware of the heat coming from his strong, hard body. He knew she’d been snooping. She waited for him to accuse her, but since he hadn’t actually seen her leave his room, it was speculation on his part. An accusation would be rude and would definitely bring an end to their evening. She let out a slow breath when he finally led her to the kitchen without saying another word.

  Gabriele had spotted a larger, formal room for eating earlier, but guessed that Callum only ever ate here. The table was smaller, but the room overall was much cozier.

  Callum removed an aluminum pan from the oven. He dished out mounds of rice on two plates, then spooned on an orange sauce. “It’s chicken curry.”

  Gabriele pulled back one of the chairs and sat. “I love Indian food.”

  There was a small, well-used candle on the table and Gabriele was relieved that Callum didn’t light it. That would’ve made it too much like a date. There was music playing in the background, low and not what she would consider romantic. She took another long breath and tried to relax.

  “So you got the big house and Lennon got the cottage,” she said. “How come?”

  “I’m twelve minutes older. Funny thing is, Lennon was fine with the split. I don’t think I would’ve been if the situation were reversed.”

  Gabriele didn’t find that hard to believe.

  “You’re prettier in real life than in your pictures,” Callum surprised her by saying. “And your pictures were hot.”<
br />
  Gabriele’s eyelashes fluttered and her neck warmed with embarrassment. “Lennon sent you pictures of me?” Lennon didn’t have a Facebook page. He wasn’t a fan of any kind of social media site so Callum wouldn’t have stumbled upon pictures.

  Callum sipped his drink in response. He gazed at her over the rim of his glass. “I like your hair better this way. Dark suits you.”

  Gabriele’s stomach clenched. “Is that why Lennon pursued me? Because of my hair? Was he looking for another Clover?”

  “Your hairstyle and your resemblance to Clover may have been what first caught his eye, but...” He shot her a sly grin. “He never married Clover.”

  No, he didn’t. The question was why? Was Clover the reason he left England? If so, she wasn’t aware of it. Unless she was lying? Maybe it was just a cover story and Clover really did know.

  “Did you go to the same uni as Lennon?”

  “For a while.”

  “You didn’t finish?”

  “I joined the army. I finished there.”

  “Why’d you join the army?”

  Callum’s fork paused midair. “It seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

  “What time?”

  Callum’s face twitched like he was holding back a scowl. “I work as a civil servant,” he said, avoiding the question. “City planning, working to make the city of London more sustainable.” He eyed her. “How about you? Did you finish uni?”

  Gabriele snorted. “I’m assuming that you already know the answer to that question.”

  “Why’d you assume that?”

  “Because you already know how I like my coffee and that I play guitar.”

  Callum answered by stuffing more food in his mouth.

  “If you and Lennon weren’t estranged, which obviously you weren’t since you were still in contact, why didn’t he tell me about you? Seriously, why?”

  “Your English is very good.”

  “Stop changing the subject!”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “I majored in English. I speak five languages fluently and am trained as a translator.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm, what?”

  “That’s interesting.”

  Gabriele snorted. “I’m so glad to be able to entertain you.”