This Loving Feeling (A Mirror Lake Novel)

by Miranda Liasson

  “Hey, man,” Lukas said to the guitar player.

  “Holy shit,” the guy said, his eyes bugging out a little when he recognized him. He turned to his band mates. “Adam! Bruce! Hey guys, look who’s here.” Lukas flashed them a wry smile. “How about we cut the Lawrence Welk and get into the twenty-first century?” They’d just finished playing something that had made his skin crawl. Elevator music. Who was ever going to get on the dance floor with those outdated tunes and that slow, sluggish beat?

  “Can’t help it, man,” Guitar Guy said. “The Buckhorn lady’s calling all the shots tonight.”

  A familiar voice sounded out from the podium on the terrace. Sam was making a speech, thanking everyone for coming. Her hair was down, soft and wavy around her face, and even from where he stood beyond the crowd he could make out her lipstick-red lips and a sparkly silver dress. He was always stunned by her everyday beauty but to see her dressed up like this—well, she was a vision. He noted her command of the microphone, her confident delivery, how she made everyone laugh. He was so proud of her and what she’d accomplished.

  No one had ever made him feel like she did. He’d screwed things up in the past but he had to show her he’d changed. He’d do anything to have a chance with her.

  Then that bastard Harris walked up to the podium with his parents. His father started saying something about the theater. It would be just like Harris to make a public spectacle of asking Sam to marry him. Lukas was not going to let that happen. He just had to figure out how.

  A young wide-eyed waitress handed him a glass of champagne. And her phone number. He gave her a quick, not-too-encouraging smile and passed on both.

  Suddenly an idea bloomed in his brain. A brilliant, once-in-a-lifetime idea.

  He’d come here to let Sam know how he felt, but he sucked at talking about his emotions. Yet he was in his element singing about them.

  He turned to the band. “When I say go, can you guys give me a cadence in D, moderate tempo. Upbeat. I’ll lead, you follow.” The guys were in, and excited, too.

  Just as Lukas stepped onto the stage and took hold of an acoustic guitar, a voice boomed out from the main podium.

  “Let’s hear it for Samantha Rushford, my beautiful girlfriend and a very special woman,” Harris said, stepping to the side and making a big sweeping gesture toward Sam. “I’m one lucky guy. Very, very lucky. In fact, I have a special announcement I’d like to share with all of you.”

  Lukas adjusted his guitar and quickly grabbed the mic. “Harris, you’re right.” Harris right? About what? My God, what was he saying? He ignored the gasps from the crowd and kept talking so that Harris couldn’t. “You’re right that we—um—all want to thank you and the Buckhorn family for everything you’ve done. And Sam is a wonderful woman.” He looked directly at her as she sat, looking a little stunned, at the head table near the podium. “In honor of our beautiful jewel of a theater, I want to sing you all my brand-new single that hasn’t been released yet.” Oohs and aahs emanated from the crowd. “I have to tell you the song is for Samantha Rushford. I wrote it myself, Sam. Not just the music. The words, too. It’s called ‘The Girl I Can’t Forget.’ Would you all like to hear it?”

  Before Harris could respond, Lukas turned to the band. “One, two, one, two, three, four . . . ,” and he sang, loud and steady and clear.

  Long ago I made you mine

  Then our love was lost in time

  Now I’m asking for one more chance

  To have forever a great romance

  Please don’t leave it up to fate

  You’ve got to tell me it’s not too late

  ’Cause you’re the girl I can’t forget

  You’re the girl I can’t forget—I got to have you

  The girl I can’t forget—Girl, I need you

  The girl I can’t forget

  People all across the lawn stood up and headed out to the dance floor to move to the catchy beat. In the grass, women kicked off their shoes and men shed their jackets. He saw the Rushfords, even Brad and Effie and the ladies, and nearly everyone he knew from town . . .

  Suddenly Harris ran from the podium across the grass and scrambled onto the stage, furious and enraged. Lukas managed to weave in and out around the musicians and somehow finish the last verse. As the music finally ended Harris latched onto the mic and pulled hard.

  Lukas gripped it with both hands as if he were hanging on to the last lifeboat on the Titanic and spoke. “And I’ll tell you who else is a jewel. You’re a jewel, Sam. You’re my jewel on Main Street. Hell, on any street. Don’t marry him, Sam. Don’t . . .”

  He heard Sam yell his name into the podium mic and looked up. Too late. Harris threw a punch that slammed Lukas into and over the drum set. Drums clattered and cymbals crashed. A blinding pain sliced into the back of Lukas’s head and the world went black.

  When he came to he was sprawled on the ground. Something warm and coppery trickled onto his lip. Harris’s enraged face hovered above him. Lightning lit up the sky and in the distance, thunder rumbled.

  “You son of a bitch,” Harris said.

  Then Sam was there, pushing through the crowd of people who’d rushed the stage, and through the haze, Lukas saw nothing else. Just her lovely face, full of concern and worry, and those ruby red, kissable lips. She was the only thing that mattered in all this craziness. He gestured to her, opened his mouth to say something, but Harris spoke instead.

  “I’ll take care of him, Sam,” he barked. “He’s probably drunk. Go back and sit down.”

  “No, Harris,” she said. “You’ve taken care of enough.” Two local security guys bent down and gripped Lukas beneath the arms. “Don’t move him,” Sam said. “EMS is coming.” Sensing the command in her voice, the guys backed off.

  “Sam, it’s best to leave,” Harris said. “We’re going to get bad publicity for this.”

  Sam shook her head. “I’m sorry, Harris.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, too. I never meant for this to get so out of hand . . .”

  “I’m not talking about this,”—she waved to Lukas on the ground, people with cameras drawing closer, the crowd in a tizzy—“I’m talking about us.” She faced him straight on. “I want to break up.”

  “Sam, no,” Harris said. “This isn’t a good time . . .”

  “There’s never a good time, is there? Not to talk and not to actually listen.”

  “I was about to ask you to marry me. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “It’s too little too late,” she said quietly. “We’ve been over for a long time, but neither of us has been able to let go for whatever reason. I saw strengths in you that I wanted, but was content to watch you instead of develop them in myself. But that’s cheating. I want a full life, regardless of how untraditional it is.”

  “Sam, I told you. The past month has been hell. Let me make it up to you. Don’t let him”—he tossed his head toward Lukas lying on the ground—“come between us. Let me show you—”

  He took a step toward her, but she held up a hand to keep him back. “You’re controlling and condescending and you care way too much about what people think of everything you do. I’m tired of making excuses for your behavior. I—I don’t love you like a woman should love a man she’s going to spend the rest of her life with. I’m sorry.”

  Lukas wondered if he was hallucinating. Because she was finally giving someone else hell besides him. And because she’d finally, finally said the words he’d longed to hear. Harris stood there, his mouth hanging open, speechless for once. Sam stepped over cords and Lukas’s sprawled-out legs and knelt beside him. Well, sort of knelt because the Aircast on her leg was pretty bulky. Her warm palm swiped gently across his forehead and it felt so good he shivered. Sirens wailed in the distance.

  “You should go,” Lukas managed. “This will be all over the news.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Sam said, her voice shaky.

  “I’m glad,” Lukas said, reaching up to take her
hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed it. She had tears in her eyes, maybe because she just broken up with Harris but maybe because of him. Because they were finally starting.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Much better,” she said with a little smile. Then she bent down and kissed him on the lips. Maybe he had died and gone to heaven, or else this was the best damn dream he’d ever had. Minus the concussion, that is.

  Her brother Tom finally managed to escort Harris away, thank God, although Harris did manage to flip Lukas the bird before he left.

  Ben knelt on the other side of Lukas and gave him that assessing-doctor look. “The back of your head is bleeding a little.” Then Ben poked him in the lower legs and in a line up his thigh. “Where am I touching you?”

  “In inappropriate places,” Lukas said.

  “He’s fine,” Ben pronounced.

  “Great, then help me up,” Lukas said.

  “You hit your head and blacked out.” Ben laid a hand firmly on his chest. “Stay put.”

  Just then, two paramedics set down a stretcher and some equipment next to his head. Ben moved aside to let them do their job.

  “Send them away,” Lukas said to Ben. “You said I’m fine.”

  “I said you’re fine, but I didn’t say you’re not going to the hospital. Strap him to the backboard,” Ben said to the paramedics.

  “Some compassionate doctor you are,” Lukas said.

  Lukas motioned with his hand for Sam to come closer. She knelt down on the grass beside him and bent her head low. Her silky hair brushed his face, its sweet fragrance enveloping him.

  “Did you like the song?” he whispered.

  Her eyes were soft and teary and full of feeling. “Yes.” He wanted so badly to touch her, to wipe her tears away, to kiss her, dammit, but they were slapping on a neck brace and strapping him down to the backboard and he couldn’t even reach for her.

  “Our song.” He was having a difficult time talking. He might have been mumbling but he wasn’t sure. He must’ve really whacked his head on that drum set. But he really wanted her to understand. Needed her to understand. “I thought I lost you. I thought you spent the night with him.”

  He felt something touch his hand. Her fingers, closing over his. He shut his eyes for just a second, lavishing in her warmth. Her softness. Her presence.

  “Be with me,” he whispered.

  “You stupid fool,” she said, crying openly now. “You had me when you said you wrote a song for me.” She paused and wiped a few tears from her cheeks.

  “I wrote every song for you.”

  “Okay, lovebirds,” a gray-haired paramedic said. “You’re not the only citizens of Mirror Lake who need help. Plus it’s about to pour. This bus is leaving.”

  “I’m riding with him,” Sam said to Carol Abrams, one of the paramedics who’d been on the squad for about twenty years. Except she wasn’t sure Carol heard because she was busy humming a tune. It sounded a lot like the one Lukas had just sung.

  “How do you know that song?’ Sam asked. “It hasn’t been released yet.”

  “Howie Zambrosky from the precinct recorded it on his phone and sent it to us. He may have uploaded it to YouTube too. Great song.”

  The song he’d sung for her. She was the girl he couldn’t forget. He’d come here to fight for her. Nothing else mattered but being with him, making up for lost years. Having the chance of a lifetime to start fresh.

  Her heart knew this was right. More right than anything she’d ever felt. She didn’t know where this would lead her but she had to take the chance or she’d regret it the rest of her life.

  Tom helped her into the EMS vehicle next to Lukas and handed over her purse. Sure enough, Brad was there, standing next to Tom, a big scowl on his face. “Are you okay?” he asked, looking at her with concern and tenderness that made her even more emotional.

  She nodded. She tried to communicate to Brad with her eyes. Please don’t judge me. He looked worried, and he looked skeptical—the typical Brad look. He was sure to be disappointed in her for her rash choice.

  But she just couldn’t muster up guilt. She wasn’t nineteen anymore. Her decisions were her own. She wanted to reassure him, tell him everything was going to be all right, but who knew? She was leaping into this without a clue as to what their future would hold. And of course Brad sensed that too.

  On impulse, she reached out her hand to Tom, who kissed it and flashed his dimpled smile. Then she reached for Brad. He met her gaze, and she met his. Slowly, he nodded and gave her hand a warm squeeze. It seemed to say that he might not agree with her choices, but he loved her anyway. All right then. Good enough.

  A strange sense of exhilaration overcame her as she climbed in beside Lukas for the ride. She was conscious that she’d made a choice, one that had severed a big chunk of her past—Harris—in exchange for a walk through uncharted territory. She’d never been one for uncertainty, but for the first time in a long time she felt—free.

  “At the very least he’ll need a few stitches,” Carol said, examining the back of Lukas’s head. “And can I take a selfie with you?”

  “Only if you get my good side,” Lukas said, shifting his eyes toward her since he couldn’t move his head, which Carol thought was hysterical. “What’s the very most I’ll need?” he asked Ben.

  “Brain surgery to help you write better lyrics about my sister.”

  Lukas’s mouth turned up in a half smile.

  Carol laughed and took a picture. “Hey!” Lukas said. “I was kidding. That better not end up on TMZ.”

  “Of course not, sweetie,” Carol said. “I’m just going to show a few of my friends before I frame it and put it next to my pillow.”

  The EMS vehicle slowed nearer to the hospital. The rain was washing down in buckets now, the wipers snapping back and forth in overtime. Red and blue police lights flashed in the distance.

  “What’s going on?” Sam asked.

  “I’m sorry guys,” the driver, Charlie Pollick, said, “but it’s a zoo out there. TV cameras, news trucks. They’re actually blocking the entrance to the ER.”

  Ben gave a curse. “Shit, Spikonos. Really?”

  “Told you you shouldn’t have gone and gotten all high and mighty like that, Dr. Ben,” Lukas said. “I’ve been banged up worse in bar brawls.”

  Ben levered him a look. “Trust me, Lukas, if my sister didn’t like you so much I’d be tempted to open the doors and let you slide out.” He spoke to Sam. “I want you to go home.”

  “What? No way,” Sam said. “I’m staying with him.” She scootched a little closer to Lukas, just to get her point across.

  “He’s fine,” Ben said. “There’s no way we can get you into the hospital without fifty people taking your picture. Is that what you really want?” But he was looking at Lukas when he said it.

  Lukas tightened his grip on her hand. “He’s right, Sam.”

  “I don’t care about that. Let them say whatever. Let them take my picture. I want to stay with you, Lukas.”

  “You’ll be on every social media outlet in minutes,” Lukas said. “Not to mention the cover of every supermarket rag for weeks. If we wait to be seen together, we can at least control things. Besides, Stevie’s still at Ben’s. He needs to be picked up.”

  “The kids are with Gloria and Maurice,” Ben said, “and all the adults just left the dinner to head home. Let him stay the night with us.”

  Lukas squeezed her hand. “I’ll be fine. Maybe you should listen to your brother.”

  How Sam hated that phrase, but Lukas looked genuinely worried. Then he flashed that perfect lopsided grin that could stun a hundred charging groupies. “It’s going to be okay,” he said. “We’re going to be okay.”

  She believed him. God, she believed him. Finally they were on the right path together . . . if only they could actually be together.

  “Look,” Sam said, “I don’t want the media to tell us how to live our lives. I’d like to come wi
th you. I don’t care if I get photographed.”

  He couldn’t move his head but his eyes conveyed a sense of worry. “I’d just as soon have you go home where you’ll be safe.”

  “We can probably drive you around to another entrance,” Ben said. “It’s your decision.”

  “My decision.” She grinned. “I’m staying.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Lukas drummed his fingers against the aluminum guardrail of the gurney.

  He’d memorized every grain of the ugly white ceiling tiles that looked like someone had poked a hundred holes in each one, and decided the watermark in the corner looked like South America. He’d even caught a nap for a few minutes. But now he wanted one thing, besides out of this backboard contraption.

  Sam. She’d stayed through his X-rays and CT scan and to hear the good news that everything was negative. But they were both worried about Stevie, so he’d had Charles and James drive Sam to Meg’s so she could check on him and bring him home. Lukas couldn’t wait to get out of here and finally be with her. If someone would only unstrap him from this god-awful backboard.

  The door opened, and a balding, paunchy man squeezed through and hovered over his bedside. Dammit, it was Tony, his agent, not a nurse with discharge papers. And Tony was guaranteed not to be as pleasant.

  “Well, I see you’ve had a busy day,” Tony said with a heavy sigh. “You crashed a charity event and started a brawl. The record company’s furious you sang that song before it’s released. Someone’s already put it on YouTube. Complete with slow-motion footage of you diving into the drum set.”

  “How many hits did it get?” Lukas asked, but Tony just glared. “All right, never mind. Hi to you, too, Tony. And by the way, I didn’t start anything. And I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

  “Well, I’m not fine. I have ulcers.” He put his hand over his stomach. “Good thing I was on the way to see you anyway. This guy you got into it with—he’s a Buckhorn, for Christ’s sakes.”

  “He’s an asshole.”

  “Yeah, a powerful one. Look, Lukas. We built you a brand, and you did your best to trash it tonight. We’re going to be dealing with this headache for weeks.”