He waited, jaw clenched, to see what she would do. Paul replaced his guitar in its stand. Not a good sign. Kerry approached the mike and he gripped the handle of his ale mug.
“I’d like to end this set with a number a little out of the ordinary,” Kerry said, and laughed. “The band doesn’t know it, so I’ll sing it unaccompanied.”
Judd half rose from his seat. What the hell—? She was throwing in an unrehearsed number?
“I’d like to dedicate this song to the wife of a man who reads the Wall Street Journal and took a walk in Central Park today.”
Judd stared at her. This was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. Maybe she’d finally cracked under the tension. Except she looked cool as a cucumber—more poised, in fact, than she’d seemed all evening.
Her eyes drifted shut and her fingers closed around the microphone stand. “You’ve set me free, to find my way,” she began in the magic voice that had entranced him that first morning on the beach, “Although your silence begs me stay.”
A chill skittered down his spine. The melody was exquisite, but the lyrics… He listened, an unwilling captive of those words.
“And I must go, despite the pain. If Fate is kind, we’ll meet again.”
The audience fell silent as their attention focused on the woman in black standing in the spotlight, her body swaying as she moved into the song’s refrain. Oh, God. This was it. The joy of seeing her master the audience was nearly as great as his agony. This was the moment he’d lose her.
She sang as if looking deep into his heart. “For there are truths that I must learn, roads that take a different turn.”
His throat closed. She was so beautiful, with the spotlight sparkling over her raven hair and creamy shoulders. This was what he’d wanted; this was the path he’d have chosen for her. Somehow she’d found it herself. This song, and perhaps others like it, would bring her the fame she sought.
“But when my soul has drunk its fill, when the tide has lost its pull,” she sang, her gaze finding him, “then, my love, I’ll turn for shore, safe in your arms, forevermore.”
Hope shone through his despair for one brief moment. But no, it was only a song. In the real world, once she’d left she’d never return. He’d read once that fame was like drinking seawater—it made you thirsty for more.
When she finished, there was the tiny moment of silence that shouts success louder than thunderous applause. Then the ovation came crashing in. People whistled and pounded on tables. At last. Judd closed his eyes and wondered how he’d make it through the next few days, knowing that his separation from Kerry had begun.
* * *
KERRY HURRIED BACK to Judd’s table, her heart fluttering wildly. “Well?”
He gave her a slow smile, although his eyes… Why did he look so sad? “You don’t need me to tell you,” he said. “Where did you get that number?”
Her enthusiasm returned. “It was the most amazing thing. I found a nanny in the park today who was singing it to a little kid. She taught it to me.”
He nodded. “It’s obviously what you should be singing. Did you get the nanny’s name?”
“Bevin is all I know, and the little girl she’s caring for is Tiffany. Does it matter?”
“Only if she knows more songs like this, but don’t worry about it. We’ll find others with a similar appeal for you to work into a set. You’re a natural with that kind of music.”
“They liked me.” Kerry had thought she might fly apart from the excitement of the audience’s response.
“They loved you,” Judd corrected.
“Yes.” And did he? The world had shifted in the past few minutes, and she needed to know what he was thinking. But when she noticed Paul had just grabbed a chair to sit with them, she knew now wasn’t the time.
“So, Kerry, what’s the name of that song, anyway?” Paul asked.
“It’s called ‘The Beacon.’”
He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “I think it’s called money in the bank. And what better company to make that song number one on the charts than Lighthouse? Some things are just meant to be.”
“I guess you’re right,” Kerry said. She kept glancing at Judd. He looked proud of her, very proud. But there was some other emotion hovering in the background, shading his eyes. It looked a lot like pain.
14
KERRY FELT the change in Judd from the moment they stepped into the limo. His kiss was restrained, his touch undemanding. The crazy, mindless passion they’d enjoyed had evaporated. His CEO persona was firmly in place.
Struggling to get her bearings, she responded automatically as they discussed whether adding any accompaniment would ruin her new song, or whether soft backup vocals would be a good idea. But the fire had left his gaze, as if he’d deliberately doused it. She had no doubt he’d offer her a contract now. And when she signed it, she could be signing away any hope of a relationship with Judd Roarke. What if she’d known that from the beginning? Would she have changed anything?
They entered the apartment and she walked over to the sofa and sat down. Judd’s saxophone still rested in its case on the coffee table. She wondered if he’d play it after they parted. A sob threatened to erupt and she looked away from the saxophone case.
“Would you like a drink?” Judd asked. “I think there’s some champagne in the—”
She glanced up. “I’d like to talk.”
He tossed his jacket aside and walked toward her. “All right.” He chose to sit in a wing chair opposite her, instead of beside her. She wasn’t surprised. “Go ahead,” he said carefully.
She laced her fingers together and stared down at her hands. Now that the moment was here she wasn’t certain how to begin. She didn’t want to reveal that Zorba had clued her in. The chauffeur might get in trouble for something she should probably thank him for.
She swallowed and looked at Judd. “Until this moment neither of us knew for certain what my future would be.”
“That’s true.” His voice was measured and even.
She wanted to scream at him not to tighten up on her, but what else could she expect? She’d succeeded, so now he had to pull away. “After tonight, it looks as if I might have a career with Lighthouse, after all.”
“No doubt about it. Musical tastes are always recycling, and there seems to be a movement back to the folk music of the seventies. Henry will probably turn you into a nineties version of Joan Baez.”
Kerry flinched. She didn’t want to be a version of someone else, and she also hated the way Judd had begun talking about her as a commodity. This was supposed to be her moment of triumph, but it was overridden by her fear that she was losing him.
She approached the subject obliquely. “Once you said our personal relationship had probably compromised our business arrangement. Is that still the way you view it?”
“Judging from where we are now, apparently it hasn’t compromised it. You’re on your way.”
You’ve set me free, to find my way. Her dry throat ached from the pressure of tears she must not shed. “Has our business arrangement compromised our personal relationship?”
He was silent for a moment. Then he took a long, shuddering breath. “Yes.”
His answer knifed through her. “Why?”
“You don’t realize it yet, but your life has changed forever. You’re destined for stardom, Kerry, and all that it means.”
“Tell me what it means, Judd.” She fought rising hysteria. “Because I always thought it would mean wonderful things, and I don’t feel wonderful right now.”
His expression softened. “You will,” he said gently. “In a couple of months I’ll have faded to the status of a good friend, somebody who helped you on the way up. You’ll be way beyond this interlude. You’ll see it for what it was, a time you needed support. And I was able to offer—”
“Stop!” She leapt to her feet, her voice shaking. “Is that all this has been to you? Giving the proper encouragement to a potential
star? If so, you can shove your precious contract right up your—”
“Don’t be an idiot.” He rose to face her. “I made love to you because I wanted to. If it helped you over a rough time, so much the better. But believe me, I had plenty of selfish reasons, too.”
“Then why does all that have to change?”
His smile was sad. “Because it always does. You’re on a rocket now. I can’t expect you to remember some paltry earthbound pleasures we had.”
“That is the stupidest reasoning I’ve ever heard.” She felt a moment of wild hope. Had he pulled back because he thought that in the flush of success she’d leave him? That was a problem she could fix. “How dare you measure the level of my commitment to you? How dare you assume I’ll toss this relationship aside once I’ve hit the big time?”
“I assume, because I’ve spent years in the business, and I’ve watched it happen countless times.”
She felt she was getting close to something. “Has it ever happened to you?”
He hesitated. “Once.”
“So now you’re going to tell me you once had a love affair with someone like Bonnie Raitt and she dumped you? Who’s the glowing comet on the recording scene who threw over Judd Roarke to pursue fame and fortune?” She saw the words plow through his composure, but she didn’t care. His composure be damned.
He shook his head, glanced away. “She’s dead.”
The words hit her like a blow to the stomach. She gasped.
“It’s okay.” He gave her a bleak look. “It happened years ago.”
Her voice was a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“But you’re right. She’s part of the reason I expect you to take off. She found a love affair to be too much trouble—which it is, Kerry. Face facts. You aren’t going to have time for hearts and flowers. You’re a performer now.”
“And you’re pulling away out of self-defense?”
He regarded her silently.
She wanted to think that was all of it, but the explanation didn’t fit his personality. She had to keep lifting the damned rug. “I don’t buy it. Tell me what the real problem is.”
His gaze was tortured. “Rachel.”
So Zorba was right. Her stomach churned. “Could you…explain that?”
He walked over to the window that looked out on the shadowed trees of the park and shoved his hands in his pockets. “She deserves whatever spare time I have, which isn’t much. If you and I kept our relationship going, I’d fly to the city where you’re performing just to snatch moments alone with you. I’d plan my weeks so I’d be free when you came back to New York. And in my frenzy to be with you, I could end up shoving Rachel to the back of my life.”
“Include Rachel! She seems to like me. The three of us could—”
“No. I won’t drag her around like that.”
Kerry’s shoulders sagged. He was right, of course. Children needed the security of a routine, not a frenetic life on the road. She wouldn’t expect Judd to ask Rachel to live for his—or her—convenience.
Her throat hurt so much she wondered if she’d ever sing again. “I guess there’s nothing more to say. Perhaps it would be best if I moved back to the Salisbury.”
“Maybe it would.” He sounded exhausted.
“We never had a single hope of something lasting, did we, Judd?”
He shook his head, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with remorse. “I suppose you wonder why, if I knew that, I made love to you.”
“No, I don’t.”
He turned, obviously surprised. “Why not?”
“Because I know why we made love. We’re perfect for each other.”
With a strangled noise deep in his throat, he crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. She held on for dear life, and the tears came.
He kissed her wet face, her quivering mouth, her convulsing throat. Then he carried her, still crying, into the bedroom. His image blurred in the wake of tears she couldn’t stop as she made love to him for the last time.
* * *
KERRY MOVED zombielike through the packing process. Judd was out running in Central Park. She planned to be gone from the apartment before he came back. Their lovemaking the night before was the only goodbye she cared to have. They’d said all that had to be said.
First thing this morning Judd had called the studio and arranged for Kerry to begin work recording the new song. They’d continue the work on Sunday, if necessary, and she’d go back to Eternity Monday morning. Then he’d told Kerry he’d decided to drive up and see Rachel for the weekend. Kerry was relieved. She’d have a hard time concentrating on her work knowing he was somewhere in the Lighthouse offices where she might accidentally run into him at any moment.
She’d zipped her black dress into the garment bag just as the buzzer sounded announcing Zorba’s arrival. She didn’t take any last looks as she hefted the bag and left the apartment.
* * *
RACHEL TORE DOWN the porch steps as Judd pulled into the driveway. “Daddy, come and see my room!”
Her laughter, her energy, her skinny little arms around his neck, her bubble-gum breath—he soaked up everything that was Rachel. Her presence flowed over his bruised heart, easing the pain. He would keep her in New York with him. Why had he ever imagined he could let her stay in Massachusetts with her grandparents? He and Rachel needed each other, belonged together.
“What about your room?” he asked as she hung on his arm, nearly pulling him off-balance as they climbed the porch steps.
Stella held the screen door open for them. “She was so excited to show you. We just finished putting up the curtains about an hour ago.”
“Been redecorating, huh?” he said to Rachel.
“Daddy, it is way cool. I picked everything myself. Grandma let me help sew the curtains, and on Monday we’re getting a portable CD player to go on the shelves we painted.” She swung his hand as they walked up the stairs to the second floor. “I’ve already got one CD, janet.”
“Janet Jackson?”
“Yep. I know she’s not with Lighthouse, but the songs are just way cool, Dad.”
Judd glanced down at his bouncing daughter. She’d grown up around all kinds of music, but she’d never been particularly interested in rock before. Now she was murmuring something rhythmically under her breath as they climbed the rest of the stairs. It sounded to Judd like rap.
At the landing she released his hand and raced ahead into her room. “Come see! Come see!”
He walked in with a tolerant smile on his face, expecting pastels and flowers. His smile faded as he gazed at a color scheme that punched him in the eye with vivid shapes and colors. The curtains were a psychedelic mix of red and purple that made him think of bruises in various stages of healing. In each corner of the room sat a beanbag chair, one red and one purple. The red quilt on the bed glowed like a stoplight, and the startling effect was heightened with purple throw pillows shaped in triangles, hearts and circles.
He vaguely remembered that watercolors of kittens and puppies had once hung on the walls. Now Christian Slater grinned down at him from one poster and Jason Priestly from another.
“Isn’t it great?” Rachel asked.
“Great,” Judd replied, still adjusting. “Sure is bright.”
“Yup. I got tired of that baby stuff that was in here. Grandma said we could change it, and I could choose the colors. Dad, do you think, when I turn ten next month, I could get my ears pierced?”
He stared at her.
“Just one hole in each ear,” she said quickly. “I wouldn’t want two holes yet. Maybe later. One’s fine, really.”
“Uh, we’ll see.” He shot a glance behind him, where Stella lingered in the hallway. “What do you think, Stella?”
“Ten’s probably a good age, if she promises to be careful about daubing her ears with alcohol.”
Judd frowned. Pierced ears. Another thing he didn’t have a clue about.
The phone rang, and Rachel
lurched around him and ran out the door. “That’s probably Marcie. Excuse me,” she hollered over her shoulder as she bounded down the stairs.
“We have a red phone on order,” Stella explained, walking into the room. “She insisted we not leave that pink one she had in here before, so that’s why she has to go rushing downstairs when the phone rings. And it usually is for her. The kids have formed a regular little social group, and they call each other constantly.”
Judd turned his back on Christian Slater. “Doesn’t that drive you nuts?”
Stella laughed. “The phone or the poster?”
“Both.”
“Actually, all this brings back fond memories.”
Judd shook his head. “I’ve only been gone a couple of weeks, and she already seems so much older.”
She gave him a level gaze. “Kids grow up fast.”
“Grandma, can I go to the beach with Marcie and her mom?” Rachel called up the stairs.
Judd glanced at Stella. “Marcie and her mother don’t have a boat, do they?”
Stella’s eyes softened with compassion. “No. I’d never let Rachel out on a boat, Judd. You know that. But maybe I should ask Rachel to stay home, anyhow. After all, you just got here, and we could all—”
“No. Let her go.” He managed a smile. “I could use some time in the hammock out back, anyway.”
* * *
“OKAY, KERRY,” Tom said gently over the intercom. “Try that first line again.”
Kerry took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. She was keeping everyone here from their usual Sunday activities, but she had no power to send them home. Judd had left word they were to get a decent version of “The Beacon” on tape this weekend. With no windows in the studio and no clocks, she’d lost track of time. And she’d begun to hate the song.
She especially hated this latest version, but Tom seemed in love with it, and the band was having a ball with the new rhythms. She waited through the intro and started the song again. “You’ve se-et me free-ee, to fi-ind my wa-ay.” And so had Judd. She was free, all right. Without Judd, the road to fame stretched ahead of her like a boulder-strewn path leading to a glacier-topped mountain peak.
Wedding Song Page 14
