Ethan's Song

by Jan Carol

  Picking up the paper, she scribbled so illegible she had to rewrite it before he could understand. LEAVE ME ALONE, I’M NOT HUNGRY. More tears rolled down to the pillow beneath her head.

  Sitting on the side of her bed, he put his hand on her shoulder pulling slightly to get her to turn over. "Come on, Jenà. Things can’t be that bad, can they?" He smoothed back her hair, then pulled on her shoulder again. "Let me hold you, maybe you’ll feel better."

  Because she felt like being held, she complied, feeling his arms around her as soon as she was against his chest. Her heavy sigh came with more tears.

  "There, there." He crooned as if she were just the child she was acting like. "Things will all be better soon. Would you like a book or magazine? I’m sure I can find something. I’m on duty till late. Maybe in the morning I could sneak up here with a deck of cards or something to help pass the time away."

  "I think not." Ethan was at the edge of the bed, pulling Westley from the woman. "I don’t think your job is to comfort the patient, Mr. Marx. I’ll see that she’s comfortable. Go back to the kitchen." He had held onto his arm as he talked, giving him a slight shove in the direction of the outer door when he was through the first.

  "Ethan!" Jenà squeaked out, getting a cold stare from Westley. Turning back into the bed, facing the wall across the room, she fell silent again. She heard the door close, then felt the bed behind her move as Ethan sat down.

  "You’ve got to eat something, Jenà." He spoke as quietly as Westley had a few moments ago. "Do you need to be held? I can do that much for you."

  Though that was exactly what she thought she wanted, she refused to give into it. Not because she would rather have Westley’s arms around her, that was definitely not true. But because she was so angry with Ethan still. She just lay still, counting the drops as they hit the already damp pillow.

  Scooting closer to her, he put an arm under her, one over her, bringing her to him against her wishes. Keeping quiet, he held her close until she stopped struggling against him. He could feel the hot tears on his chest as he stroked her hair. When he felt she was calm enough and the tears had stopped, he asked if she felt like she could eat something now.

  She nodded her head against him, feeling as if her stomach hadn’t had a thing in it for days. As he began to move from her, she put her arm around him, wanting him to stay where he was.

  "If you’re hungry, I’ve got to move to get the tray," he said with a chuckle. "I doubt that you’d be able to eat very well with me in your way."

  Allowing him freedom to move, she moved herself up in the bed, put her back against the headboard, and accepted the lap tray over her. Taking the napkin, she wiped her eyes and cheeks before lifting the lid that covered her plate. It looked delicious and smelled even better. Ethan had left, gone into her bath, and was coming back with a wet rag, which was cool and felt good on her face as she ran it over her forehead, down to her chin.

  "Feel better?" He received a nod, though she wouldn’t look at him. "I’ll be back in about ten minutes to take the tray, alright?" Another nod. She was already devouring the wonderful food.

  When she had finished, leaving an empty plate, she prepared a piece of paper to give to him when he came back. The pen flowed over the page smoothly, showing her nice handwriting as she chose the words that would tell him how sorry she was for acting so silly and childish. Then she asked if he would take the time to hold her a little longer.

  He returned later than he had said he would, apologizing as soon as he walked in the door, explaining he had found Westley and had apologized to him for his jealous behavior. Jenà smiled up at him as he removed the tray from her lap and saw the note she held up to him.

  Moving over, she made room for him to sit beside her. Resuming the position they had been in before she had eaten, she sighed and put her arm around him as if he would try to get away.

  Trying to keep the conversation to nods and shakes for answers, wasn’t easy. He wanted to know so many things about her, and what better opportunity than this? But she couldn’t say anything. It was frustrating to both of them. Moving a little, Jenà got the paper and pen and asked if he would just tell her about himself, rather than the twenty questions he kept finding to ask about her.

  <<<< jc >>>>

  Chapter Four

  FOR MORE than a week, her singing was forbidden. She was able to talk after her throat cleared, almost seven days later, but the doctor thought singing would be too much of a strain on her vocal cords yet.

  When the doctor said she could talk, she found the silence was hard to break. There really wasn’t much to talk about. The questions Ethan put to her about herself, she didn’t want to answer. He found himself the only one being frustrated, seeing a satisfied look on her face.

  When she was given the go ahead to sing again, but in moderation, she sat alone in her bedroom. If she found it a bit rusty, she could tone it up. But she didn’t want an audience for that, not even Ethan.

  After nearly two weeks of public silence, she asked if he wanted her to sing during the evening meals again. She felt confident that she was up to a complete audience. Ethan sat on the couch beside her in his sitting room, listening as she sang a few songs for him. With a gleam in his eyes, the man beside her agreed, telling her it was the second thing he wanted most.

  "Although you are very patient, Ethan, you are also very persistent. I feel I’ve been tolerant of your suggestions and advances." Jenà had set her guitar on the floor, leaning on the side the couch, while she spoke, then turned slightly, to face him.

  "Tolerant?" His arms around her brought her lips to his. Her response invited him to continue. Gently pushing her down, he lay his upper body on hers, no fight did he feel from her. Raising his head, he grinned as he looked into her blue eyes. "If that is tolerance, Jenà, I can’t wait to see how tolerant you are in my bed."

  "I wasn’t finished with what I was saying." Nor would she get the chance as she accepted a deeper, more searching kiss. Her hands went lower on his back, lifting the shirt he wore, finding more excitement as she felt the warm skin with her fingers.

  Pulling from her, he sat up. "I believe the doctor ordered a bit too much rest for you." He wanted to control himself, as it was too close to dinner time. "If you intend to sing, you’ve just enough time to change. Personally I don’t see what one more evening skipped would hurt." His lips brushed hers, then he couldn’t seem to get enough.

  "Who wants to sing?" Her voice held the huskiness with the feelings she didn’t try to hide any more.

  "Are you teasing me again, Jenà?" He knew she wasn’t, but he felt she would back away from him again if he were to pursue what she was offering.

  "I’m always teasing." She stood, taking a few steps away from him. "You know how I feel, Ethan. You make me lose control. But I always seem to find it again, at the right time." She voiced the thoughts he’d had. "I’m not ready for what you want from me. We don’t love each other. Not the right way. Do we?" Her hands now rested on the ones that had come around her.

  "I think we’re close, Jenà." He whispered in her ear. "We both know how much I care about you, how much I want you."

  "But it just isn’t there." Walking out of his arms, she went into her room, closing the door between them, locking it.

  <<<< >>>>

  THE DINING area seemed over crowded as she sat on her tall stool near the back of the room. For the first time she could ever remember, her stomach was tied in knots as her fingers began playing the music. Her eyes were on him, probably sending the message her mind was thinking.

  She continued singing as the guests slowly left the room. Though she remembered how angry he had been before, that wasn’t the thing that kept her this time.

  Ethan remained at the head table, sitting back, his legs stretched out under the table, relaxed in his chair. Jenà changed her type of songs she sang for over an hour, to the softer ones, the words telling him she thought she was falling in love with him. She didn’t know if
he understood what she was saying.

  As the tables were being cleared, he continued watching her, soaking up every word her clear voice sang out. Flapjack came through the door, listening also, until his eyes fell upon the man who still sat at the head table. Seeing the look in his eyes, then the look in the singer’s eyes, he turned back toward his kitchen.

  "Sure has a lovely voice, don’t you think, Edward?" At the sound of Ethan’s voice, the head cook stopped, tuning into what was being said. "I’m going to get in touch with the right people when we get back. I know she could make a go with her own songs."

  "You know it, sir." Edward spoke to his employer, continuing on with his duties.

  Until Ethan walked up to her, she continued singing. "I think you ought to quit before you over do it." He had her guitar in his hand, taking her arm with the other. "I have this friend in Atlanta..." He began when she was standing in front of him.

  "No, thank you, Ethan. I’m not interested." Her voice was cool, knowing what he was going to say to her next.

  "You don’t even know what I was referring to," he said, putting the guitar back in its case. "Would you join me outside for a cool drink and fresh air?"

  "I’d enjoy that very much. And you were going to tell me about someone who could help me get a career going, just as many others have tried. I truly am not interested in a singing career any more complex than what I have now. I’m comfortable with what I do. I have everything I need." The night air was cool, and she enjoyed the salty taste it had. "It’s not that I don’t appreciate your offer. I’m glad to know you care so much."

  "But you could enjoy life more fully with the kind of money your own songs could bring." He seated her on a deck chair, joining her in the next one, setting the guitar case on the floor next to him. With a small movement of his hand, he silently called for a deck waiter to bring the cart that held bottled drinks.

  "I don’t want that. I’ve seen what enjoyment comes from it." Her voice was raised a slight bit, but she knew she wouldn’t have to argue long. She knew she would win this argument no matter what he tried to do to persuade her differently.

  He was watching out off the starboard, sipping on the drink he had received. "Tell me what you know about that side of life, Jenà. I’d like to know, too. I’ve only seen how glamorous it is from afar."

  "I’d rather not talk about it, please." She was looking up at the star studded sky, sipping the cool soda through a straw. So far the moon hadn’t risen.

  "I don’t think you know anything about it," he stated flatly, looking at her, accusing her of hiding ignorance behind her silence. "I think you’re just afraid to try, afraid you might fail."

  Her voice remained calm through pure force. "I don’t want to talk about it, Ethan. Just drop the subject, please." It wouldn’t take much more to make her get up and leave him sitting there.

  "You would make it, Jenà. You’d make it big. I’ve got the confidence that you lack in yourself." He stood when she did, determined to find out what had her afraid to go forward with a career.

  "You know nothing about it, Ethan. Being on tours most the time, away from family, a constant crowd with body guards to keep them from tearing you apart because they love you so much." She started to walk off, but stopped short, turning back to place the glass in his empty hand. "Please, Ethan, don’t push it." Her voice had calmed down some. Turning back again, she walked to the bow to cool off.

  "You possess more determination than I knew." He had joined her a long while later, hoping he had given her enough time to settle down. "Is there some experience behind those words you spoke?"

  "I still don’t want to talk about it, Ethan." Leaning on the rail, she watched the lights from the ship dance on top of each wave before it crashed into them.

  "I detect some painful memories?" He stood beside her, resting his back and elbows on the railing, crossing his legs at the ankle. He was just guessing, because she was hiding whatever it was. "You’re so young. You couldn’t have given it much of a chance, Jenà. You’re older now, wouldn’t it make a difference?"

  She looked over at him. The breeze played havoc with his usually neatly combed hair, giving him more of a devilish look. Her heart melted a little before she turned her eyes back to the water below. "No. Please drop it." She left him again, picking up the case on her way to the stairs. She wished she had another place to go, somewhere he wouldn’t find her. For a while, anyway. If he was determined, he would search, or have his staff search for her, until she was where he wanted her.

  In her suite, she locked the two doors and went into her bedroom, locking that door also. In the bathroom, turning the lock on that door as well, she sat on the vanity after pulling the guitar from its case. Picking some of the songs that had been exclusively her sister’s, tears dropped on the wooden instrument she held in her arms. For a long time she couldn’t get the words out of her throat, a lump seemed to keep them there.

  Her heart felt like it would burst until she started singing the words to the songs, filling the small room with them. As she got through the first two lines, her tears stopped and her thoughts went back to when she used to sit at home with her sister and harmonize with her. She could still hear Darlene’s voice, which was better than her own. That was what she had always thought, anyhow. How many times had Darlene begged her to come on the road with her. They would make it bigger together, rather than separate, she had been told not just by her sister, but by the agent representing Darlene.

  She set her guitar on the floor, leaning against the vanity front. With her hands covering her face, she cried until the sobs were so great she didn’t think she could stop. That’s when his arms came around her. She hadn’t heard him come into the room, but felt the comfort that he was trying to give her. As she calmed in his hold, she began to feel foolish about it all. It had been so long ago, why couldn’t she let it go?

  "I heard you singing. Was she your idol?" He spoke about the singer whose songs Jenà had been singing "Was it her life that has you so afraid of trying?"

  "How much do you know about Darlene?" she asked quietly, her face still against his chest.

  "I thought she had just about everything. Except me." At his statement, she looked up and saw his grin. "I was younger then, twenty-four, twenty-five, when she died. It took me nearly a year to get over it. Silly, isn’t it?"

  "No Ethan, it isn’t. Even after these five years, I can’t let go." Fresh tears came to the surface.

  "You were just a teenager." He spoke quietly, almost teasing her, as he rested his chin in her hair.

  "I was almost nineteen. I was closer to her than anyone else." Her sigh held a sadness she couldn’t expect him to understand.

  "I’m sure we all thought that, Jenà. She must have had a good life." He held her, trying to make her feel better, though what he said only made the hurt go deeper. But she wouldn’t hold that against him. He didn’t know.

  "She was my sister, Ethan." As soon as the whispered words were out of her mouth, the sobs returned, moving them both.

  He stroked her hair, allowing her to cry it out. Now he understood why she was so against that kind of life. She had lived as close as anyone without being in it, unless she herself was beginning to come out at that time. Her sister’s career had ended so tragically. The media had never been clear on the cause, but it was a few years back, and he was over the crush most men his age had found, enough that he didn’t care what took her life.

  "I’m sorry, Ethan." She was able to speak to him when he had walked her into the sitting room. He still held her as she sat next to him. She needed to feel his arms around her. When it had hit her like this before, the memories of her sister, she didn’t have anyone to share it with. "I’ve made a fool of myself."

  "You did no such thing. I can tell how much love you still have for her memory. I’m sorry I pushed you into this." His caressing kiss on her forehead was different than the ones he’d placed there before. His comforting was just that, nothing passiona
te. "I want you to know how much I appreciated the songs you sang earlier. Especially the ones just for me when everyone else was gone."

  Her sigh was shaky, coming out almost in bits. "Thank you for letting me do that tonight. I do miss being on stage, and especially not being able to perform for so long." She looked up at him, smiling.

  He brought his hand up to wipe the remaining tears from her face. "I don’t know why I didn’t see it before." He spoke so low, it was almost a deep whisper. "You do look so much like she did. I’m glad I got to know her baby sister."

  She laughed, her eyes picking up some of the sparkle. "You don’t know anything about me, Mr. Ayers." Her hand moved from his arm up to his face, feeling the whiskers that grew, then moving around to the back of his head to feel the softness of his hair.

  "You shouldn’t be doing that, Jenà." He warned her as he moved her hand away.

  Closing her eyes, she took her hand out of his, putting it back to his neck. "Stay with me tonight, Ethan."

  He stood, walking to the door between their rooms. "Not tonight, Jenà. I want you because you want me. Not because some memories have upset you." He closed the door between them.

  <<<< >>>>

  SHE WOKE early in the morning, still laying across the bed as she had fallen asleep, having cried herself out. How foolish she had been. She was grateful he had left her as he had, rather than taking advantage of her state of mind. It was in his mind to take her to his bed sometime before the end of this trip, but he wouldn’t take her out of pity. Off her bed, she went to the two doors leading out of the sitting room, locking them.

  She let the hot spray hit her back as she rubbed the shampoo through her hair. The shortness was still a strange feeling to her fingers, as she’d had long hair all of her life. Stepping back, letting the water take the bubbles away, she let it run down her face, washing away the color from her cheeks as she thought again how she had asked Ethan to stay with her.