A Wedding on Lilac Lane

by Hope Ramsay

  Her big anime eyes were puffy and red. She’d been crying too.

  That ravaged look on her face froze him. He couldn’t move. He could hardly breathe, because right then he understood on a deep, almost cellular level what Dad had just said.

  Ella had turned his life upside down, and he was so grateful for it. He loved her music, and her wild red hair, and the way her mouth curled when she was amused. He loved her rhythm at night, and the curve of her hip, and her creamy skin. He loved her. Body, soul, heart, and mind.

  He finally broke through the uncertainty that had been holding him back and stepped forward, ready to pull her right into his arms and tell her that he’d fallen in love with her.

  But she stopped him, holding out her hand at arm’s length. “No!” The word was urgent. “Not here. Not now.” She paused, biting her lip. “Not ever, Dylan.”

  “What?”

  “Look, I can’t lose Mom. Not now. Not after all these years of…I don’t know, misunderstanding…between us. I have a chance to make things right. And I can’t do that if I’m sneaking around, lying to her. She doesn’t like you much, and I can’t put her through that again—falling for some guy she disapproves of. And I want her to be happy. You know? I don’t want to mess up her life any more than it’s been messed up.”

  He opened his mouth to argue with her, but he understood what she was saying. Hell, he’d spent a lifetime trying to make his father happy. Why had he ever thought she wouldn’t side with her mother?

  “I understand.” He almost gagged on the words.

  She looked away, tears spilling from her eyes. Dammit, he wanted so badly to dry those tears. Why did her tears propel him to action, when he’d always wanted to run from his father’s grief? He had no explanation.

  “No, I don’t think you really do understand.”

  Her words were like sharp knives aimed at him. He responded in kind. “Okay, you want to explain it to me?”

  “Mom deserves a guy like Jim. Hell, if I had to go pick a father from the daddy store, I’d choose Jim. In fact, I wish I could call him Dad the way you do. You are so incredibly lucky. And I want Mom to have that. You know. Because my father wasn’t like that at all. My father was an a-hole.”

  She sniffed back tears and wiped them from her cheeks before she continued. “I told you that I had a relationship with him before he died. What I didn’t tell you is that he turned out to be every bit as bad as Mom said he was. When I looked him up, he was still living in Chicago, which is where Mom left him in the dead of night on Christmas Eve when I was only three years old. He’d been in and out of prison a couple of times. I tried to have a relationship with him, you know? Stupid me. I thought I could love him and save him or some idiot thing like that.

  “But Mom was right. He wasn’t a good person, and he didn’t love me. He was perfectly happy to use me for booze and drugs. He drank himself to death. So, you see, I want Jim as my father. And I want Mom to be happy. And that leaves no space for us.

  “Besides, there isn’t really an us, you know? Just two horny people having some fun. Right? And we should stop. Now. And we should get with the program and help Mom and Jim any way we can.”

  “Yeah. I guess so,” he managed to say around the choking mass in his throat.

  “And besides, the timing is all wrong. I mean, I’ve had a lot of fun these last few weeks, but I need to stand on my own two feet for a while.”

  “Of course you do.”

  She nodded. “It’s going to be awkward for us. But we love our folks, right? We can do this.”

  He nodded. “Of course we can.” If only he actually believed that.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  After two days in the hospital and a battery of tests, Mom was diagnosed with persistent atrial fibrillation. Dr. Wilson, Mom’s cardiologist, put her on medications that would regulate her heartbeat. Her blackout at the engagement party had been caused by low blood pressure, created by the irregular heart rhythm. After she was given a complete cardiac workout, the docs were sure she hadn’t had a stroke or a heart attack.

  So the episode had been a scary warning that Mom needed to destress. Her doc told her to go home, eat healthy foods, get regular exercise, and take up yoga. Mom had taken this prescription seriously. On Thursday, she and Jim bought yoga mats on their way back from the hospital. And on Friday morning, they went out to practice positions on the beach at sunrise.

  On Friday night, at a dinner Granny hosted at her condo, they seemed so happy together talking about the beauty of stretching on the beach while the sun came up. It had been a lovely family gathering, but Dylan hadn’t been invited.

  So Mom hadn’t sniped at him. And he hadn’t sniped at Mom. And Ella hadn’t had to sit at the table with him, feeling heartbroken.

  Still, it was so unfair. Dylan wasn’t at fault for the disasters that befell the engagement party. But Mom had made him the scapegoat for some irrational reason. And Jim hadn’t stopped her from doing so. But then again, Dylan hadn’t hidden his dislike of her mother. So he wasn’t entirely blameless either.

  Ella had to accept this as the order of things from now on. Mom disliking Dylan. Jim tiptoeing around Mom’s unhappiness because of her heart condition. And Ella, heartsore and missing Dylan with every breath she took.

  Without the engagement party to plan, she had no reason to call him anymore, and she missed the sound of his voice. And since they’d ended their spring fling, she missed his kisses and his touches and the sound of his breathing at night while she watched him sleep.

  If only she could convince her heart (and maybe a few other parts) that she was better off keeping him at a distance. But what else could she do? She couldn’t run the battle lines between her mother and Dylan without getting seriously wounded by both of them.

  She needed to face the facts about her life. She needed to get on with it, and working part time at Howland House and picking up the occasional wedding gig was never going to get her where she wanted to be.

  She was on her own, and if she wanted to buy herself a little house somewhere, she’d have to earn the money the hard way…by going back on the road or heading off to Nashville to try to get a gig as a studio musician, which was incredibly hard to do.

  Working musicians had to go on tour. She’d been avoiding this truth for months.

  And of course she’d like to be in a relationship with a mature man who appreciated and respected her. But she couldn’t rely on a man to get her the home she wanted. She was going to have to do what Mom had done. Earn a bit of money, save it up, and buy a house when she could afford it. But maybe she could make a home base in Nashville or someplace, where she could at least try to break into the studios.

  So she’d decided. Once the wedding was over, she was buying a bus ticket to Nashville. There was work in Nashville for a good fiddler. That’s where she had to go.

  She wasn’t telling Mom about her plans. Mom wouldn’t be all that happy about them. But she had to go. It didn’t mean she wouldn’t be back for holidays and visits, but she couldn’t stay in Magnolia Harbor. For so many reasons. Maybe if she wasn’t around, Mom would come to realize that Dylan was a good soul. Maybe Mom would find a son if her daughter got out of the way.

  In the meantime, her Saturday-afternoon gig at Howland House had taken on real significance. She needed the money Ashley paid her, as well as the tips she received, to build her nest egg. She had to have enough money for that bus ticket to Tennessee, as well as some money to tide her over until she found a job.

  So when Saturday rolled around, she got up, served breakfast, managed the webpage and reservations, and then helped set up for tea. When she started playing fiddle in the library, she had more than the usual number of guests sitting on the chairs listening.

  For a short time, the crowd boosted her ego. Maybe she could make it in Nashville. But her confidence didn’t last long.

  About twenty minutes into her set, Cody Callaghan strolled through Howland House’s front doo
r on a pair of badass snakeskin cowboy boots. As usual, he was wearing a black Urban Armadillo T-shirt and sleeveless jean jacket. His uniform was about as predictable as Doctor D’s bow tie, and it drew stares from the inn’s customers, most of whom had dressed for a summer tea party at a fancy inn.

  Dammit. She missed a note. What was the date? She’d been so wrapped up in Mom’s illness, she’d forgotten that Urban Armadillo was scheduled to play at Rafferty’s right after the engagement party.

  Cody still possessed an undeniable alpha-male magnetism despite (or maybe because of) the skull tattoo on his biceps, his scraggly stubble, and long hair. He sauntered into the inn ready for a fight, which he got from Candi, who insisted that he wasn’t on the reservation list.

  Funny how Candi had allowed Dylan to gate-crash the tea, but she wasn’t letting Cody take more than one step into the center hall.

  “Git out of my way, little girl,” Cody said in his too-loud Texas twang. Ella missed three notes in an easy arpeggio and might have stopped were it not for Jackie Scott. The boy was sitting quietly in the corner watching her, and whenever they played together, she made such a big deal about him not stopping when he made a mistake. So she gritted her teeth and concentrated on the music. Unfortunately, concentrating didn’t take her to some higher plane where she and the music became one.

  Cody folded his massive arms across his equally impressive chest and stood there until Ashley appeared and miraculously managed to get him to leave. But not before he stepped to the entrance of the library and yelled, “Don’t think you can ignore me, Ella. And what the hell kind of music are you playing, anyway?”

  She continued bravely, stumbling over the Borodin piece she’d been practicing for days. Her face got chili-pepper hot with shame. Nothing upset her more than making that many mistakes in something she’d practiced.

  She wanted to run away or break down and have a great big cry. She wasn’t happy. She didn’t know how to find her happiness. And Cody seemed to underscore the barrenness of her life.

  She might have packed it all in, except for the adoring look in Jackie’s eyes. She loved that kid, despite the disaster he’d unleashed at the engagement party. And she sure didn’t want to teach him any bad lessons about performing. Sometimes you had to suck it up and go on with the show.

  She got to the end of the Borodin, feeling drained. The next song was some sad Irish ballad that was sure to make her weep. She didn’t want to go there, so she turned to the boy and said, “Do you have your whistle?”

  The kid’s eyes grew round as he nodded and pulled the simple flute from his back pocket.

  “Then get up here and play the ‘Sailor’s Hornpipe’ with me.”

  The kid showed no hint of stage fright as he hurried to her corner and stood beside her. She let him set the tempo, and she followed. A few moments later, Ashley rushed to the library door and stood there, beaming love and pride at her little boy. When that happened, Ella was almost glad that Cody had messed with her mind. Playing with Jackie changed the mood in the room.

  Soon the guests were clapping along with the music, and Cody’s ugly words were forgotten by everyone except Ella, who continued with the music, ending the afternoon with a medley of Strauss waltzes.

  She’d finished the show, but she was badly disappointed in the quality of her performance that afternoon. Her mind had been off somewhere else, caught between Cody and Dylan and Mom and her future. So she was utterly astonished when one of the guests, an older man with shiny, bright eyes, handed her a fifty-dollar bill and said, “I liked the way you arranged the Borodin. You played it well, under the circumstances.”

  “Um. Thanks. It’s so much better with four voices though.”

  “Have you ever played in a string quartet?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m afraid not.”

  He nodded enigmatically, then headed toward the door. His praise and that huge tip did a lot to improve her mood. So she managed a smile when Ashley came into the library a moment later.

  “I had no idea you’d been working so hard with Jackie,” the innkeeper said. “Thank you so much for paying attention to him. He was amazing. You were…You are amazing.”

  “He’s got musical talent, I think. And it wasn’t work. It was fun. And I’m really sorry about Cody. He’s such a—”

  “That was not your fault. But I’m worried about that guy. Maybe you should think about getting a protective order. If you need help with that, I have friends in the police department.”

  “He’s not abusive. Not really. He’s just a jerk. And he’s desperate for a fiddler.”

  Which was true. Maybe Cody’s arrival was exactly what she needed.

  The big question was whether she could go back on the road with Cody and not be his girlfriend. If that was possible, she could save a lot of time. She could join him on the road after Mom’s wedding, earn a few more dollars, then leave Urban Armadillo and head off to Nashville. Of course Cody wouldn’t like that plan much.

  Which would be a complication. But she could make more money if she toured with him for the rest of the summer. In Nashville, she might have to get some minimum-wage waitressing job while she was trying to break into the studios.

  “By the way,” Ashley said, pulling her from her thoughts, “you should expect a couple of phone calls. I gave your number to a bride who needs someone to play at her wedding, and also you should know that Norton Treloar, one of the board members of the Myrtle Beach Symphony, was here today. He asked for your contact information.”

  “What?”

  “I might have invited Norton to hear you play,” she said with a wink. “He’s always looking for violinists.”

  “But I’m not classically trained, and I completely messed up the Borodin.”

  “Did you? I didn’t notice. And Norton seemed to think you had talent. I think he gave you a tip?”

  “That guy? He’s a member of the symphony board?” Ella asked, her voice cracking.

  Ashley nodded. “Yes. Now, I need to go supervise the high school kids in the kitchen before they break things.” She turned with an eye roll and headed down the hall, leaving Ella to her insecurities.

  Ashley’s words were a comfort, but they didn’t dispel the stubborn hollow spot in the middle of Ella’s core. Would a spot in the local symphony fill that hole? Was she brave enough or good enough for something like that? In a symphony, you had to play the music exactly the way the composer and the director wanted it played. She could do that, with enough practice. But she’d never be as good as Mom at sight-reading. It had always been her downfall.

  Staying here in Magnolia Harbor would make Mom so happy. But could she do it?

  She spun out a future scenario. If she stayed, she’d have a father figure in her life for the first time ever. Jim was terrific. She’d kind of fallen in love with him too.

  If she stayed, she could spend time with Granny, learning all her secret recipes and maybe even learning how to quilt.

  If she stayed, she’d have to pretend to be Dylan’s stepsister.

  Which was never going to work. Her stubborn imagination kept serving up a vision of a perfect yacht club blonde in a polka-dotted dress who would come along and steal Dylan’s heart forever. That phantom woman would be a card-carrying conservative who worshipped at Grace Methodist. She’d have a recipe for killer meat loaf and be perfect in every way. Hell, she’d be so nice that she’d probably ask Ella to play the violin at their wedding.

  Ella almost threw up in her mouth at the thought, right before a vicious wave of jealousy hit her. Damn. She’d fallen in love with Dylan. Now what?

  * * *

  On Saturday night Dylan found himself alone. Funny how he’d never felt alone in Magnolia Harbor before. Dad had always been up for dinner at Rafferty’s, and there was always the crowd at the yacht club.

  But tonight, after a grueling eight-hour shift at the free clinic, he’d found himself utterly alone in a house with almost no food in the cupboards or ref
rigerator. He’d called Dad, but he and Brenda were off for dinner and a movie. Ella was untouchable. And he didn’t want to spend time at the yacht club.

  So he took himself to Rafferty’s for one of their surf and turf specials and a beer. And just for a change, he opted to sit on the deck. He could hang out here for a while, listening to the band and watching the bay and feeling sorry for himself.

  It was early yet, and the band was still setting up. They looked like a scruffy bunch of misfits. The music would probably be loud and give him a headache.

  But at least out here he’d have an excuse to stay for a while, because the last thing he wanted was to go home to that big, empty house. In fact, the more time he stayed in that place by himself, the less he liked it. He was thinking about putting it on the market and finding something smaller.

  He hadn’t mentioned that to Dad though. Dad might not be happy about him selling the house, even though Dad had moved to Cloud Nine, figuratively and literally.

  Besides, his relationship with Dad was strained to the breaking point, and Dylan didn’t want to rock any more boats. Dad loved Brenda, so naturally he wanted to protect her. Dylan hadn’t really enjoyed dinners at Nancy Jacobs’s condo, but it was still annoying to find himself dis-invited on a regular basis, as if he’d become the black sheep of the family. When had that happened?

  He told himself it was for the best. He wasn’t sure what he might do if he saw Ella again. He kept replaying that moment when she dumped him right in the middle of the emergency room.

  He kept wondering if maybe he should have fought for her instead of nodding and letting her walk away. He wondered if maybe he should have told her that he’d fallen in love with her.

  Or maybe not. The relationship had been doomed from the start. He settled back and ordered a second beer and watched the dinghies sailing in the harbor. They were holding practice races, and the spinnakers provided sparks of color against the horizon. Behind them, the sun sank over the mainland, casting an orange glow over the evening.