Theo stepped out and greeted him with a short hug. “Good to see you again, man. You got thoughts about this?”
“First thought, terrible idea. Second thought, the twins know their mother better than I do.”
“True that. Same holds for me. Do you mind if I keep an eye on her while you play?”
“I want you to. Maybe a couple of doctors, too.”
“Good thinking. Okay, stand by.”
Fifteen minutes later, Monica poked her head out and beckoned for Padric to come in. “She’s ready.”
“You didn’t browbeat her into this, did you?”
“I don’t know that word,” she said innocently.
“Funny, because there’s probably a picture of you next to it in the dictionary. Any song in particular you want me to play?”
“Yes. ‘Lost Chance.’”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded firmly, her dark ponytail bouncing behind her. “That song got me through my first crush. It’s like an angel wrote it.”
He was definitely no angel, and he’d been filled with both rage and sadness when he wrote it. “I hope you know what you’re doing here.”
“Me too.”
On that not-so-encouraging note, he stepped into the hospital room. Mrs. Bellini lay under a pink woven blanket, her gray-streaked dark hair nicely combed, her eyes more clear than he’d expected. The flesh around her right eye sagged.
He imagined her insisting on getting her hair combed before anyone outside the family saw her.
Monica pushed him toward a stool set up next to the bed.
“Hello, Mrs. Bellini,” he said softly. “I’m here to sing you a song.”
She blinked once but didn’t say anything. Maybe talking was still hard for her.
He didn’t have anything to say, either—what topic could possibly be safe? The fact that he loved Zoe? That she had turned him away? That he would be heading to Sweden soon? That his mother had written an apology letter and never sent it?
No. Sometimes music was the only language possible.
He strummed a few chords on his guitar, the soft intro to his song about heartbreak. When he performed this song in concert, he used a backup band that created a lush soundscape, like a rainforest. Like Lost Souls Wilderness.
But before he’d gotten successful enough to afford backup musicians, he’d performed just like this. Alone on a stool with a guitar, his voice, and his bared heart.
His voice, a little rough from disuse and the remains of the nodes, wafted through the air. Very male and yet tender. That was the contrast that drew people. He closed his eyes and let the music pour out.
* * *
A fork in the trail, one step to the edge
Happened so quick, burned by a touch
Don’t know where we went, don’t know why.
Did I know we would break?
Did I know you would cry?
One chance, all we had. All we had is goodbye.
Nothing so cruel as a chance lost with you.
His voice broke at the end, because all he could think about was Zoe, and yet another chance lost with her.
He opened his eyes and saw that he wasn’t the only one moved by the song. Tears made their way down the wrinkled valleys in Mrs. Bellini’s face. Theo wiped the heel of his hand across his eyes. Monica had an arm slung around her sister, who held their mother’s hand.
Even the medical personnel who had assembled for the performance gave a sniffle or two.
He looked only at Mrs. Bellini. He met her eyes, holding back none of his pain and regret. She saw it and understood. He saw it in her silent communication.
She lifted her hand to indicate his guitar.
“More?” he asked.
She nodded. “Mo.”
“Okay. How about a new song I’ve been working on? Just since I came here. It’s still rough, so no recording devices, please.” He looked sternly around the room as Monica tucked away the phone she’d started to hold up.
Was that a smile lurking in the corner of Mrs. Bellini’s mouth?
The song was nothing more than few lines that he had yet to flesh into lyrics. But the melody was perfectly clear. It had been running through his mind ever since that crazy trip to the Larkspur Trail. The lyrics had been inspired by Zoe’s letters. He hadn’t even jotted any of it down yet. It was all in his head.
He established the chords—a wistful mix of D major and C minor. Combining major and minor keys was another of his trademarks. Hopeful and mournful, just like life.
* * *
I got yesterday in my pocket
I got tomorrow in my dreams
Standing here with you
Today I got my queen.
Yesterday lives in my bones
And tomorrow comes like a hunter
But today I get to say,
I’m yours since yesterday.
Yours since yesterday.
His love for Zoe echoed in every line of the song, and he knew that Mrs. Bellini understood that. Every member of the Bellini family would, since they knew the history between him and Zoe. To the rest of the world, it was a catchy song. Here in this hospital room, it was a declaration.
As he wrapped up the final strum, Monica and Alexis burst into applause as well as a million questions. “When are you going to record it? Are we really the first ever in the world to hear it? Does that mean this is the world premiere?”
Theo shushed them, but Padric kept his gaze on Mrs. Bellini. Was she beckoning to him? He stepped off the stool and came closer to her bedside. She offered her hand in a trembling gesture. He enclosed it in his two hands. Inside his grasp, it shook like a butterfly.
Her eyelids drifted shut. Neither of them said anything.
A moment later, she was asleep.
He glanced around at the rest of the Bellini family. “Do you think she no longer hates me?”
“That’s my interpretation,” said Theo. “Nice song.”
“Thanks.”
This was huge. Monumental. If Mrs. Bellini no longer hated him, and could actually tolerate being in the same room with him, what stood in the way of him and Zoe being together?
They all filed out of the room so they didn’t bother Mrs. Bellini while she was sleeping. The twins launched into a flurry of thank yous, but Padric kept his attention on Theo.
“Where’s Zoe?” he asked Theo. “Is she at home?”
“To be honest, I have no idea. I told her to take a few days’ break before the real work started. She ran out of here with some kind of mission on her mind. But I don’t know what.”
“Do you know when she’s coming back?”
“All she said was that she’d try to be back before Mama gets discharged.”
“Girls, do you know?” he asked them.
“No, and we texted her a couple of times. No answer.” Monica was staring at Theo with a fascinated expression. “You actually gave her time off? What about us?”
“You’ll survive, if it’s meant to be.”
Monica and Alexis burst into giggles, shushed by Theo as he closed the door to their mother’s room.
“So…” Padric tried to wrap his head around the situation. “Zoe left, no one knows where she is or when she’s coming back, and I have to be in Sweden in two days.”
“You can always come back,” said Monica hopefully. “You know what’s a good date? Labor Day. September fifth.”
“I already told you, I can’t make it to that festival. But you know what I’ll do? I’ll finalize that song I just sang and premiere it for real via video.”
“Fine,” said Alexis dejectedly. “I guess that’s pretty good too.”
Padric shook his head at the ungratefulness of teenagers. “I’d better get going. Can someone give me a ride back to the harbor?”
“Are you leaving already?” Theo asked.
“No, it’s still too choppy today. Aiming for tomorrow.”
Theo tossed his car keys in the air and grabbed
them. “I’ll run you out there. Girls, stay here in case Mama wakes up.”
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be with Zoe gone? You just order us around?”
Theo just grinned, then muttered, “Yeah, like that’s going to work,” as he and Padric strode down the hallway.
Chapter Thirty
Zoe barely had the wherewithal to appreciate the majestic setting of the Banff Institute of Contemporary Northern Art, home of the Far North Arts Fellowship. She was so nervous her teeth were practically chattering. It had taken her nearly twenty-four hours to reach Banff, find a hotel, get some sleep, then make her way to the institute. At some point, she realized that she’d left her phone at home. She knew exactly where it was, right on her worktable next to an unfinished figure of a selkie.
She gave her name to the receptionist outside the director’s office. The director, Rose O’Rourke, had sent the acceptance email, so there really was no reason for Zoe to be so nervous.
And yet she was. This here, what she was about to do, she’d never done before in her life.
The receptionist beckoned her into the director’s office. Clean and expansive, the decor an elegant mix of blond wood and touches of stainless steel, like an architect’s studio, the space gave Zoe a sense of infinite horizons.
“Ms. Bellini.” A woman wearing a sapphire velvet jumpsuit rose from behind the desk to shake her hand. She had a nose piercing and a tattoo of a rose next to her eye. “We don’t usually get our acceptances in person.”
“I’m not actually here for that. I can’t accept the fellowship. I wish I could.” She heard the yearning in her own voice. “But I’m hoping I can do something else.”
Rose O’Rourke cocked her head, then gestured for her to sit down. “You’ve got me even more curious now.”
Zoe awkwardly took a seat. She’d never felt like such a country bumpkin before. If only she’d noticed the clay stains on the black pants she’d brought, or the way the cuffs of her gray sweater were unraveling. At least she’d remembered her suede boots instead of traveling to Canada in her XTRATUFS.
She tucked her hands together in her lap, hoping the ultra-chic woman across from her wouldn’t notice her cuffs, not to mention her stubby fingernails and burn scars.
Clearing her throat, she launched into her pitch. “I was truly honored when I got your email. I’m so grateful to the entire board.”
“The vote was unanimous. We all loved your work. Can you explain why you can’t accept the spot?”
“Family reasons. My mother just had a stroke, and I can’t leave right now.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s very understandable. We might be open to postponing your participation. Perhaps next semester or next year?”
Zoe closed her eyes briefly, almost overcome by the kindness in the director’s voice. “No. That sounds…wonderful, but realistically, I just don’t know when I’ll be able to take part. My life just isn’t cut out for this sort of thing. When I applied, I…I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly. It just sounded so tempting.”
The director nodded a few times, somehow both sympathetic and cool. “It’s a life-changing program for many. It’s not easy to get accepted.”
Dig the knife a little deeper. “I’m incredibly honored to be accepted. I wish things were different. I’ve always done my art in the spare moments that pop up in my life. I finally got to the point where I wanted to try putting it first—and then my mother had her stroke, so…” She broke off. “I know what they say, that you have to protect your creative time, that no one else is going to take you seriously if you don’t take yourself seriously, and I agree with all of it. I just can’t seem to make my life fit into that. I’m sorry.”
Her frustration burst out of her, causing the director to pull back in surprise.
“You certainly don’t have to apologize to me. I love your work and hope you keep at it, even in the nooks and crannies of your life.”
“Oh God, you’re just making this harder because you’re so perfect.” Zoe groaned at her own impossible gaucheness. “I feel like I’m just making excuses for myself. I’m not even married! I don’t have kids taking up time, just my sisters and my mother. But somehow they take up so much time. But maybe it’s not even that. Maybe it’s me and my fear of rejection, and I know I’m not the only one who experiences that, not by a long shot, probably everyone does, so that’s no excuse either and oh my God, why am I still talking?”
She clapped her hand over her mouth because that seemed like the only way to stem the flow of her words.
The director laughed kindly. “Look, I completely understand. Everyone here does. We’re your tribe, whether you accept the fellowship or not. You’re an artist, and it’s painful to think about people not appreciating your work. But let me tell you, people do. I do. You have talent and originality, as well as a kind of…wilderness ingenuity. I hope you know that.”
Zoe dropped her hand and allowed herself to take a deep breath. She let it out, then breathed in again. In and out. Breathe. Don’t die.
“Thank you,” she finally said. “That means more to me than I can ever describe.”
Rose O’Rourke smiled at her—probably wondering how much she could charge for this impromptu therapy session. “Is that what you came here to say?”
“No. I came here to make a request. Even though I can’t accept the fellowship, would I be allowed to include a few pieces from my project in the gallery show? I’ve never had a show before, and the pieces are the same ones I submitted, so I guess you all liked them and—”
“Absolutely.” The director didn’t even hesitate. “We’d love to display your work.”
“You…what?” Zoe had lined up so many arguments that the director’s easy agreement threw her off.
“We can’t include your work in the exhibit at the end of the fellowship, but we can add it to our current show on cutting-edge eco-Art. It would fit perfectly.”
“Oh. Wow. Thank you so much.”
The director shook it off, smiling. “No need for thanks. I think your work will be a great addition.” She stood up and offered her hand again. “I hope you can find your way to a fellowship sometime in the future. My assistant will take things from here.”
With the sense of sending her precious children off to school for the first time, Zoe handed over her tote bins of clay figurines to the assistant. Not all of them would make it into the exhibit, since there wasn’t enough space. Zoe promised to come back and pick everything up when the show ended—unless a gallery or private buyer expressed interest.
Zoe found that idea nearly overwhelming. Not only were strangers going to see her work, but someone might want to pay for it? That would have seemed like fantasyland just a short time ago.
If only she could tell the one person who would really appreciate this incredible breakthrough. Her family would be proud, of course, and so would her friends. But only Padric knew how much her art meant to her, and how hard it was for her to push it into the world.
However, not only had she forgotten her phone, but it wouldn’t be fair to muddy things between her and Padric. Maybe someday they could go back to being friends—like in their eighties, say.
At the B&B, she celebrated with a goofy solo dance around the room. Should she stay in Banff for a couple more days and enjoy her break? The thought held no appeal. She’d done what she came here to do. She missed Lost Harbor and it drove her crazy that she couldn’t call to check on Mama. With the twins and Theo handling everything, who knew what crazy misadventures were going on?
Besides, if she left now, she’d be back in Lost Harbor by tomorrow morning and could possibly catch Padric before he took off.
Catch Padric? Yes. Hell yes.
He would want to know about this amazing thing that had just happened, even if it “muddied the waters.” Padric cared about her on every level, as a person, as an artist, not just as a lover. To think otherwise would be to sell him short. She’d done that as a teenager, after his fa
mily had left, but she knew better now.
Padric would always be part of her and she would always be part of him, even if they never even kissed again.
She checked out of the B&B, packed up her rental car and headed to the airport. Lost Harbor awaited, a beloved shimmer on a distant horizon.
Chapter Thirty-One
In his touring life, Padric was constantly saying goodbye, and he’d grown to loathe it. So instead of letting everyone gather to see him off, he took the time to say his goodbyes individually. He stopped by the volunteer fire department and shook hands with his training group. He’d brought signed photos for Willie’s granddaughter and Carrie and whoever else wanted one.
“I’m leaving early tomorrow, so this is goodbye,” he told them. “Keep crushing it, you guys.”
Nate wasn’t around, but Padric knew he’d be seeing his old friend somewhere, at some point. He left a check for the department that doubled the twins’ bid.
“If you can find a way to give their money back, I’d appreciate it. This covers it and more.”
“We can do that,” Chief Boone assured him. “Appreciate your help. Great fundraiser, aside from poor Mrs. Bellini.”
“Yeah. Thanks again for the chance to learn some skills.”
“Come back any time. I know it’s not likely, but I’m saying it anyway.”
After more goodbyes around town—he dropped in at the Olde Salt, and then caught Trixie Tran between rushes at Soul Satisfaction Ice Cream—Padric spent one more lonely night at the Eagle’s Nest. Zoe still wasn’t answering her phone and his time was running out. He had to get to Stockholm or there would be hell to pay.
He woke up early the next day and headed for the harbor. Wearing a watchman’s cap and sunglasses, he hoped none of the early-bird tourists would recognize him.
But Lucas and Megan did. They were doing some maintenance work on the Forget Me Not. Whatever it was, it seemed to include frequent kissing.
Lucas hailed him as he passed. “Heading out?”
“Yeah, it’s time. I was hoping I’d run into you guys before I left. How’s it looking out there?”
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