“I don’t know. I just always have. But I thought you might have a better reason than that,” he added with a smile.
She felt an odd reluctance to talk about it. “Well...it’s actually an unusual piece of music. Most of the time, when there are two leading parts like that, the two lines aren’t really equal. One of them is always subordinate to the other. Or else both parts are dependent on each other, neither of them able to stand alone. But in the Concerto for Two Violins, neither part is secondary. They’re both equally strong, whole and complete on their own. But when they’re played together, something amazing happens. There’s this alchemy, this...”
She paused, and for some reason couldn’t finish the sentence.
Michael finished it for her. “Magic,” he said softly.
She nodded, not looking at him.
They lay in silence for a long time. Jenna closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she saw that the first faint light of dawn had crept into the room.
“It’s morning,” she said, sitting up in bed and wrapping her arms around her knees.
Michael sat up, too. “Claire’s plane will be landing in a few hours.”
She nodded, not sure what to say. She’d put off even thinking about this moment, and now that it was here, she wasn’t ready for it.
Michael got out of bed and started to get dressed. She watched him in silence.
“Thank you for last night,” she said after a minute, ashamed at how forlorn she sounded.
He finished tying his shoes before he looked at her. They stared at each other for a second and then he was there, by her side, wrapping her up in a fierce hug. “Thanks for the last two weeks,” he said, his voice muffled in her hair.
“I loved being with you,” she said, pressing her face against his shirt. “I’ll never forget it.”
“Neither will I.”
He hugged her again, and pressed a quick, hard kiss to her forehead. “Claire will want to see you as soon as we get back from the airport.”
“I’ll be home all day today, so she can come by whenever she wants. I’m excited to see her again.”
“She’ll be excited to see you, too.”
He let her go then, getting off the bed and moving towards the door.
She knew she was only a few seconds away from crying. But he was almost gone—she just had to hang on a little longer.
Then he paused in the doorway, his back to her. He stood like that for more than a minute. Even from across the room she could feel the tension in him.
Suddenly afraid, Jenna jumped out of bed and went to her dresser. She pulled on sweatpants and a tee shirt.
“I still have so much to do downstairs. I should really finish painting the—”
“Jenna.”
She leaned back against the dresser. “Don’t. Please, don’t.”
He turned then, and her heart skipped a beat. “I can’t help it,” he said in a low voice.
“Michael—”
“Can’t we at least talk about it?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle. “It won’t do any good. Last night was so perfect…can’t we leave it at that?”
He looked at her. “Jenna, these past two weeks with you have been the best of my life. I’m not going to stop thinking about you when you go away. Damn it, I don’t want you to go away. Can you honestly tell me you haven’t thought at all about staying? That you’ve never imagined being with me…really being with me?”
She hugged herself tighter. “Of course I have. But if the Mollies do get back together, we’ll be touring. I’d be on the road all the time, especially in the beginning. It just wouldn’t work, Michael.”
Just talking about the possibility seemed to bring out his stubborn streak. “But you haven’t decided yet about the band. You could still change your mind.”
Feeling suddenly cold, she rubbed her palms up and down her bare arms. “The Mollies are important to me. Music is important to me.”
He frowned. “And I’m not important to you? Is that what you’re saying?”
The coldness crept deeper, into her bones. “Are you asking me to choose between you and my career?”
“No, of course not. But what about your own songwriting? You could do that here. Aren’t there recording studios in Des Moines? And places you could perform? And Chicago’s only five hours away—you could play there sometimes, too.”
He took a breath. “And there’s a private school a couple of counties over that’s looking for a music teacher. I know the chairman of their board of directors, and I bet they’d love to interview you. And the performing arts center of Des Moines is looking for private guitar instructors. Or you could give lessons right out of the house—”
“Wow. You’ve really thought this through, huh? You’ve even done a job search for me.”
The tone of her voice pulled him up short. “I’m not trying to control your life. But I hate the idea of losing you. And I wanted you to know that there are options for you here, if you want to stay.”
He hadn’t said he loved her. Jenna wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed by that omission. There’d been times during the last two weeks when the feeling between them had been so intense, so unlike anything she’d ever felt before, that she’d almost said the words.
Now, she was glad she hadn’t.
“It’s not just logistics, Michael. It’s the kind of person I am. I’m not the kind of person who stays. I never have been.”
And she definitely wouldn’t stay for a man who, while he might appreciate that music was part of her life, would always expect to come first. Which meant that she’d always be disappointing him, always letting him down.
“People change, Jenna. Hell, look at me. I was always the kind of person who kept people at a distance. You helped me change that…you and Claire. So I know for a fact that people can change.”
She shook her head. “Nothing Claire or I did could have made you change if you didn’t want to.”
He went still. “So you don’t want to change.”
It was so much more complicated than that. But she was afraid that trying to tell him everything that was in her heart, every painful contradiction and fear and desire, would tear her to pieces. Because a part of her wanted to stay, wanted to give up everything to be with Michael and Claire.
“I’d never be able to change enough to make you happy,” was what she said.
His chest rose and fell with a quick breath. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “Then I guess there isn’t anything else to say.”
Chapter Twelve
If Michael had been hoping that Claire’s return would distract him from missing Jenna, he now knew better.
Not that it wasn’t great having Claire around. In fact, he was amazed at how she transformed the house, filling it with laughter and chatter and friends.
She and Ellie had made up, and Ellie was over almost every day. She and her mother had moved in with Mrs. Washington, and as sorry as he was that Ellie’s parents were going through a divorce, he was glad that Claire had a friend living so close by.
So far, Claire seemed to be happy. She was excited to start school and she was already making friends. Of course he knew there would be plenty of explosions and tears in his future, but as the days went by he started to feel more confident—not that the crises wouldn’t happen, but that he and Claire would find a way to deal with them.
If only he could find a way to deal with Jenna.
Or, rather, his feelings for Jenna—since he’d hardly seen her at all in the past week.
A part of him—a really pathetic part—had been hoping she’d change her mind. That she’d miss him. That she’d admit she wanted to stay, that she had feelings for him.
But she hadn’t changed her mind.
He still didn’t understand why. They were amazing together. That last night had been so incredible, so magical...all night as he’d held her in his arms he’d waited for her to say out loud what seemed so o
bvious to him. To say that they belonged together.
But she hadn’t said a thing. And even though he believed in his heart she did have feelings for him, the fact that she’d rejected him when he’d asked her to stay had cut to the quick.
It wouldn’t hurt so much if he could believe she missed him as much as he missed her. But the few times he saw her that week—always with Claire—she seemed busy and distracted. The Mollies were in town and all her energy was focused on the band.
Not being with her was a hundred times more painful than he’d imagined. It felt like a part of him was missing—a part Jenna had taken with her without even realizing it. And he didn’t know how to get it back.
“Dad?”
He looked up from his computer. “Hey, Claire. What’s up?”
“Are we still on for the state fair?”
“Absolutely. We should leave in about half an hour.”
He’d been able to carve out more time for Claire than he’d expected. It still didn’t feel like enough, but he was amazed at how accommodating the hospital had been so far.
For years he’d worked a brutal on-call schedule, taking almost every weekend and holiday except when he had Claire with him. The other two cardiac surgeons on staff had children, and he’d been happy to lighten the load for them. He’d felt guilty asking for a more balanced schedule, but they’d agreed right away. Their kids were older now, and rotating weekends and holidays between the three of them wouldn’t be such a burden.
Stepping back from some of his research projects hadn’t gone over so well with the head of his department, since research was an important revenue stream for the hospital. But no one could deny the reasonableness of his request, once he’d reminded them that he was involved in twice as many projects as anyone else on staff.
So even though it was still a work in progress, he was able to spend a lot more time with his daughter than he’d ever imagined.
Claire was looking at him now with folded arms and a frown on her face. “So…are you ever going to tell me what happened with Jenna?”
He stared at her. Claire hadn’t said a thing about Jenna—at least in terms of the two of them getting together—since she’d gotten back.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s obvious that something happened while I was gone.”
“Obvious how?” he hedged.
“Well, whenever I talk about Jenna to you, you always quiz me about her. How is she? What’s she doing today? Does she seem happy? And on and on. Like you can’t find out for yourself anymore. And when I talk about you to her, she changes the subject. Once she even started to cry.”
She’d cried? Over him?
“What do you mean, she started to cry? What did she say? What happened?”
Claire pointed a finger at him. “See? You’re doing it again. And she said she was tearing up because she had something in her eye, which was a total lie. What did you do to her, Dad?”
All of a sudden, he felt something inside him give way. He slumped back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his eyes.
“I didn’t do anything to her. I just…asked her to stay.”
Claire stared at him. “Oh, Dad. Just like you asked me.”
He smiled. “Yeah, but with a different outcome. I guess one out of two’s not so bad, huh?”
Claire started to pace now, a frown on her face and her hands shoved into the pockets of her jeans. “I’m sure you won’t give me the gory details, but I guess you guys got together while I was gone. Am I right?”
He thought about denying it, but somehow he’d lost the will to deny things where Jenna was concerned.
“Yeah. But it’s over now.”
“You asked her to stay?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you actually propose to her? Or just tell her you love her?”
He blinked. “Well…”
Claire stopped pacing. “You do love her, don’t you?”
A hand closed over his heart. “Yes. I love her.”
“Please tell me you told Jenna that.”
He shook his head. “Not in so many words.”
“What is wrong with you? Are you saying you asked her to stay here, to change her whole life for you, without even telling her you love her?”
“I…” He wasn’t used to feeling this defensive with his daughter…or with anyone. “She knows I love her. It was obvious every time I was with her.”
She looked at him in disgust. “Unbelievable. Okay, Dad, let me clue you in here. You have to say the words.”
He remembered the way he’d felt walking home from Jenna’s that last morning, the pain that had radiated through him. “To be honest, I’m glad I didn’t. Because I’d feel even worse right now.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell her? To protect yourself? My God, Dad, I had no idea you were such a coward. You know what? You deserved to get rejected. You didn’t ask her to marry you, you didn’t tell her you love her—”
“Okay, fine. I deserved to get rejected. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to the state fair and try to have a good time.”
“You think the butter cow sculpture is going to make you forget about Jenna?”
That made him smile. “Hey, it’s worth a shot. Did you know the statue weighs 600 pounds and could butter 19,200 slices of toast?”
Claire shook her head at him. “You’re hopeless, you know that? But you’re the only dad I’ve got, so I guess I’m stuck with you.”
For the rest of that week, he couldn’t get Claire’s words out of his head.
It didn’t take him long to realize she was right.
He should have told Jenna he loved her. He should have asked her to marry him. Because that’s how he felt, and that’s what he wanted.
Maybe it was crazy, since they’d only known each other a month. But when he looked into his heart, all he could see was Jenna. He could be cautious, and hedge his bets—and lose her. Or he could throw caution to the wind, take a risk—
And probably still lose her. But at least he’d know he hadn’t held anything back, that he’d done everything he could to win the woman he loved.
He went downtown the next day to look for a ring. Instinct led him away from the usual stores and into a boutique that sold antique jewelry, where he found an engagement ring that might as well have had “Jenna Landry” in a neon sign above it. It was an art deco square cut ruby set in gold filigree, and it was so perfect he had to stop himself from tracking Jenna down and proposing to her then and there.
But Jenna had enough on her mind right now, getting ready for tomorrow night’s concert. She’d told him—through Claire, of course—that they should come backstage after the show.
That’s when he would propose. He’d do it in front of a hundred people if he had to. But he couldn’t wait any longer than that, with the ring burning a hole in his pocket and his heart aching without her.
***
He and Claire got to the Odeon early, mostly because Claire was so excited she couldn’t sit still. The old-fashioned theater was a great venue, quirky and shabby with a kind of gone-to-seed elegance that appealed to him. He and Claire were sitting in the front row of the balcony, dead center.
He leaned his arms on the railing in front of him and surveyed the crowd below. The opening act didn’t seem to be holding anyone’s attention. There was a standing room only section right in front of the stage, and none of the people down there seemed particularly interested in the band.
“I hope they pay attention when the Mollies are performing,” he said with a frown.
Claire laughed at him. “Don’t worry, Dad. You’re going to see this place go nuts when they come on stage.”
He looked around him, at the people talking and laughing. They didn’t look like a crowd ready to go nuts. They were people of all ages, all backgrounds—even some pushing forty, like him. “If you say so.”
At that moment, the opening band finished their last song and left the stage, to appla
use that sounded more polite than enthusiastic. The lights came up in the theater, and a crew of people came out on stage and cleared the previous band’s equipment. Then they started setting up for the Mollies, bringing out microphones, amps, and instruments.
That’s when he felt it. A thrum of excitement running through the crowd, like a spark of electricity. He found himself sitting straighter in his seat, watching the crew finish. When they left the stage was ready, but the house lights hadn’t gone down yet.
He didn’t know how it started, but suddenly the crowd was clapping and stamping in rhythm. His heart rate picked up as he felt the slow build of anticipation.
The theater went dark, as if someone had snuffed out a candle. There was a howl of approval from the audience, and then five spotlights came on, one for each member of the band.
Pandemonium. All around him people were surging to their feet, cheering and shouting and stamping, and he and Claire were on their feet, too, carried away by the irresistible tidal wave that swept through the building.
His eyes went to Jenna and stayed there. She was standing a few feet to the left of the redhead at the microphone. She was wearing jeans and a black tee shirt, her hair loose and wild around her face. Her guitar was in her hands, and she was looking out at the crowd with a crooked grin on her face, like she knew every single one of them by name.
“Hey, Des Moines!” the redhead shouted. “Where the hell have you been for the last five years?”
A roar of laughter greeted her, and then she took two quick steps back and looked to the right and left. “One, two, one-two-three-four!”
For the next two hours, everyone in the building stayed on their feet. They sang with the band, they danced in the aisles, they clapped until their hands were sore and cheered until they were hoarse. Michael and Claire clapped and cheered with them, and even though Michael only had eyes for one member of the band, he could feel and hear how good every one of them was, and how good they were together.
The music was more than infectious—it was electrifying. And the spark at the heart of it all was Jenna, her hands moving so fast and skillfully over her guitar strings that Michael could hardly follow the movements.
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