Rock Me Gently_A Havenwood Falls Novel

by Susan Burdorf

  “Hey mister,” said a girl, giggling at her boldness as she touched him on the arm. “Can I have your autograph?”

  He blinked, looking at her in surprise, curious as to how she knew who he was.

  “The sign,” the girl said with another giggle. She pointed to the door where a small picture of him was hung. It contained the information about the upcoming music camp.

  “Sure,” he said. Taking the proffered paper from her, he smiled as he signed it. “Do you want a picture, too?”

  “Already got one,” the girl said, holding up her phone as she leaned close to him as he signed the autograph for her.

  Brett raised an eyebrow at the picture the girl had taken. It showed him looking wistfully into the store, and the second one was of him writing in his notebook.

  “What did you write?” the girl asked as she took the autographed paper from him.

  “Oh, just some snatches of lyrics,” he answered, shoving the notebook back into his pocket.

  Shouldering his guitar and luggage, he excused himself and watched the two girls run off down the street giggling. A small smile spread across his face. Some things never changed.

  Stepping into the shop, he was first struck by the warmth that hit his face, in contrast to the cold snowy weather outside, and second by the comfortable, peaceful atmosphere of the store. The conversations were muted, like the buzzing of bees in a meadow.

  The store smelled like dusty cardboard and an herbal scent he couldn’t identify but probably had something to do with the candles burning in a few strategic places around the store. He also caught the subtle odor of wax, the kind used on guitar strings to keep them from drying out.

  He immediately relaxed, not even realizing how tense he had been before he walked in.

  “Hello, welcome to Havenwood Falls. I’m Cece, the one who contacted you. We’re so glad you’re here,” said a soft voice at his elbow.

  He smelled her perfume before he saw her. It reminded him of sun-drenched meadows. Soft, floral, and pleasant. Just like her, he realized when he turned to greet her and was struck dumb at her beauty. Such a cliché reaction, he thought, but wow, she was beautiful.

  And she was the woman in his dreams.

  Chapter 11

  The thought that this woman was her stopped the words at the back of Brett’s throat. It could not be possible, could it?

  To hide his confusion, he put his guitar down and set the suitcase next to it at the counter, avoiding making a fool of himself by wrapping her in a hug. How could his dream woman be here of all places? He had to be imagining it. Things like this did not happen in real life, and yet, somehow, looking at her, the way his breath caught and his heart pounded, he knew it had to be true.

  Cece, slender and blond, walked to the other side of the counter, where she helped a customer before turning the full effect of her smile on him.

  His eyes were trapped by her mouth. Why was it so familiar? He found himself wanting to touch those full, soft pink lips, and had to shove his hands in his pockets to maintain his composure.

  Her smile twisted slightly as if reading his mind, but otherwise she said nothing, waiting for him to speak.

  Clearing his throat, he said, “So, what’s next? Do you need me to hang out here and meet people, or will I need to find a ride to the cabin?”

  “I will have Glenn take you to the cabin. Would you like to go now? You can drop your stuff off there and come back here with Glenn, or you can stay there for the rest of the day and come here tomorrow. The store is open this Sunday for a brief meet and greet so the participants of the camp can meet you, and then we will run the camp starting in two days and end next Saturday night with a performance at the Annex. So it is a fairly quick camp, but one I think the children attending will enjoy tremendously. I kept the camp small, as you suggested. Just six attendees, so you can provide one-on-one attention to each participant. I hope that is okay?”

  Brett nodded. “That’s perfect. This is the first time I’ve done this,” he admitted, “and I would like to make this a memorable experience.”

  “Glenn,” she called toward the back of the store.

  The boy he’d noticed earlier walked up, a big smile on his face. He held out a hand, which Brett shook.

  “I’m a huge fan and can’t wait for the camp,” he said with just the right amount of enthusiasm to set Brett’s jangling nerves on end.

  He hoped he could live up to the young man’s expectations. The need for a drink rose strongly in his mind, but he stifled the feeling.

  The dark-haired girl Glenn had been talking with before Brett had entered the store had wandered up to stand beside the boy. She looked at him, eyes wide and probably excited to be meeting a real rock star, judging by the way she paled when he reached out to shake her hand.

  Her hand was tiny and smooth, and she rested it in his hand, and then quickly withdrew it.

  He smiled reassuringly and said, “Are you coming to the camp, too?”

  At the same time Cece said, “I’ve signed her up.”

  Meghan laughed, a slightly musical tone to her voice that was easy to listen to. “No, not me, I have no musical ability at all.”

  She waved her hands in denial of her attendance, and Brett shook his head. “I think you are not giving yourself full credit. You have a beautiful voice. I can hear it. Do you sing?”

  “Does in the shower count?” she said with another self-deprecating laugh and shy twist of her head toward Glenn.

  Glenn moved toward her, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Meghan is a little shy, but I agree, she has a beautiful voice.”

  Meghan laughed, laying her head on Glenn’s shoulder for a second. She shifted her feet nervously and avoided looking directly at anyone.

  “Hmmm . . .” was all Brett said. Then he yawned.

  “Oh my,” said Cece. “Forgive me, I have forgotten my manners. Glenn, do you mind driving Mr. Rhys-Falwyck up to the cabin? It’s number three, and Melissa left the key under the welcome mat. Will you be returning with Glenn?”

  “I think,” Brett said, covering another yawn, “I probably need to at least take a nap.”

  Cece laughed. “I think so. I had Melissa stock the refrigerator for you, and make sure there were plenty of linens, blankets, and so on. It can get very cold up in the mountains at this time of year, of course. Although I heard we might get a thaw this week.”

  Brett nodded. Turning to Glenn, he said, “Ready?”

  “Yep, let me get my coat, and I’ll be ready.”

  Brett watched Glenn and Meghan walk toward the back of the store. He frowned, noticing the small studio in the corner. He walked toward the currently unoccupied room and opened the door. He admired the small setup—the equipment was very good and a surprise find in such a small town.

  “People mostly use it for recording birthday greetings to family or friends, and once in a while, someone might use it for recording something more. We’ve had some famous musicians stop in while on vacations in the area to record a song they were inspired to write by the beauty around them.”

  Brett, turning to stare at her, grinned and said, “I understand the beauty part.”

  Cece looked at him, her blue eyes staring into his with such intensity, he lowered his own, blushing at how hokey and forward he’d sounded.

  “When you are ready to come back down here, give me a call.” She handed a card to him with her private number as well as the store number on it. “I live above the store and am usually down here doing something, so you can reach me at either number.”

  Brett looked at the card, a simple white one with gold threads twining around it to end in the shape of wings. Wings. What was going on with him? Everywhere he looked, he was back in his dream in some way, and yet wide awake.

  Pocketing the card, he nodded in answer to her comment.

  “How does one rent this studio?” he asked as they walked back toward the front, where Glenn waited for him. Meghan was nowhere to be seen.


  “Oh, just let me know what time you want it, and I’ll pencil you in,” Cece answered. Looking at Glenn, she said, “You might want to let him see the town too, before you head up Burdorf Pass for the cabin.”

  Glenn nodded. His excitement was a tangible thing, and Brett grinned. He liked the boy. In him he could see his own youth. Brett just hoped the reality of who he was wouldn’t disappoint the boy.

  “Ready?” Brett clasped the boy’s shoulder, squeezing slightly and then letting go.

  Glenn couldn’t stop grinning as he showed Brett around and gave him a brief history of the town.

  “So you go to the local high school? Are you a senior?”

  “Yes, I am. I play football.”

  “Is that what you want to do when you go to college? And then what?”

  “Not sure what I want to do. I thought I might like to be a lawyer, like my dad, but not sure yet.”

  “I get that. So what instrument do you play?”

  “Guitar.” He made a turn onto a narrow road surrounded by trees. “Here we are. That was Burdorf Pass we just turned off of, and then about ten minutes up the mountain is the cabin you’ll be in. It’s a great cabin, by the way. I like that one best.”

  “Oh, how do you know?”

  “In the summers, I help Melissa—Ms. Richter—maintain the cabins. I clear the brush from the winter, and my mom and sister help clean the cabins after guests have been there.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Brett yawned again, trying hard to keep his eyes open. He wished he’d asked Glenn to stop by the coffee shop they’d passed back at the town square. Brett settled back into the seat and closed his eyes, swearing he would just need a minute to get the grit out of his eyes from being tired.

  “Sir, we’re here,” Glenn said.

  Brett felt a quick shake on his shoulder, and then the door opened, and Glenn left the car. Cold air hit Brett in the face, and he stirred.

  Brett mumbled and slowly opened his eyes, gasping in surprise. He stared in pleasure at the cabin before him. It was perfect. Tucked into the forest around him, it was rustic and yet warm. Nothing prepared him for the inside, though. Expecting it to have rough wooden furniture, which would have been fine with him, instead it had thick, dark red leather couches on the first floor set in a group that encouraged conversations between guests. A large-screen TV was set over the fireplace, which had a set of logs waiting for flames. A small kitchen was off to the left as you entered, with a stove, refrigerator, and dishwasher set into dark-paneled cabinets.

  Braided rugs in brilliant colors were sprinkled around the shining hardwood floors like confetti. A set of spiral stairs led to an upper loft area where he assumed was the bedroom he would be using. Another door revealed a closet, and a door at the far end of the room opened to the bathroom.

  But what really drew his eye were the two French doors that led out to a back deck, where a magnificent view of the mountains rising above the forest greeted his eyes. He took in a deep breath of the pine scented air and marveled at how different it all was from the beach where he lived.

  And yet, he found himself loving it just as much. Perhaps more. The sound of the waves was soothing to his soul, but this forested mountain was soothing to his mind as well.

  “How odd,” he mumbled.

  “Odd?” said Glenn. “You don’t like it?” He sounded disappointed.

  “I love it.” Brett breathed in deeply once more of the forest. Turning to Glenn, he said in amazement, “I’ve never been here before, and yet it feels like home.”

  Glenn chuckled. “Yeah, that’s Havenwood Falls for ya. You’re not the first to say that.” He chuckled, as if telling a private joke.

  Glenn walked back inside. Brett reluctantly followed.

  “Just call me if you want to come back to town tonight. I’ll come get you, but you really have quite a bit of food here. The microwave oven is behind this door.” Glenn opened one of the cabinets to reveal a small microwave oven, just perfect for one-person meals or popcorn.

  Once the quick tour of the place was done, Glenn left after giving Brett his phone number.

  Brett watched Glenn leave, the car disappearing around the bend as if swallowed by the forest that lined both sides of the road. Shivering slightly in the cold, Brett returned inside.

  Nothing in the cabin was too fancy or too over the top, and yet Brett felt it was all selected with care to provide an ambience of comfort and usability. He was surprised there was only one bedroom, but realized that was exactly perfect for his needs, so what did it matter anyway if there was only one bedroom or three?

  He headed toward the fireplace and leaned down to light the logs inside, then closed the grating to keep the sparks from igniting the rug. He walked toward the kitchen, stopping at the bathroom first to splash water on his face. He was suddenly so tired, but still wanted to examine the cabin. Fighting the urge to yawn again, he checked the refrigerator. Inside were several bottles of water, sparkling water, and vitamin water. No booze, not a bottle anywhere. Hmmm . . . he remembered seeing a liquor store next to the music store.

  Nope, I don’t need anything strong. I just need to take a walk, he thought. Stretching my legs might be a good idea. Keep me from wanting a drink.

  Grabbing his jacket, he set off to explore the area around the cabin. The snow was not too deep, which surprised him. He’d thought, with what the pilot had said on the plane about the new powder, that he would be knee deep in the white stuff here, too, but other than a dusting of snow in some spots, and a little deeper snow in others, the walking was easy and unencumbered by drifts.

  As he walked, he noted how some of the trail looked familiar.

  “That’s strange,” he said as he looked around. “Why do I recognize some of this?”

  As he rounded a point in the trail, he stopped dead in his tracks.

  Ahead of him was a large rock, a boulder, just like the one in his dreams. How was that possible?

  Moving closer, Brett touched the cool rock, not surprised to find he knew the feel of it. He looked behind him quickly, half expecting the woman—Cece—to be standing there. But the trail was empty, and the trees silent.

  What was happening to him? How had he ended up here, at the very cabin that was near the very rock that was part of his dreams? With the very woman serving as his hostess? Was he going crazy? He leaned his forehead against the rock, relieved that it was solid and not a figment of his imagination.

  “I’m not crazy,” he mumbled as he closed his eyes. “I’m not.”

  His only answer was a sudden wind that swirled around the boulder, picking up the snow and depositing it at his feet. He looked down, white snow covering his black boots like wings.

  “How’d it go?” Cece asked when Glenn got back.

  “Great. He’s a nice guy. I like him,” Glenn said. Looking around, he raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. “Where’s Meghan?”

  “She left. Said she had something to take care of.”

  “Oh.” Glenn sounded disappointed, so Cece handed him a stack of CDs and pointed to the shelves.

  “Can you restock these for me?”

  “Sure,” said Glenn flatly. He returned the vintage CDs to the shelves like a robot.

  A short while later, Cece closed the store and sent Glenn home. Heading up the stairs to her apartment, she leaned against the wall when a sudden and unexpected wave of nausea overtook her.

  “Not now,” she said, holding her head. But there was no denying the inevitable. Sinking to the stairs, she huddled there as her mind left her body and she found herself walking in the woods again.

  He stood, watching the woman approach. Her steps were slow and measured, her hair covering her face.

  And then she looked up, met his eyes, and smiled. Her eyes were such a brilliant blue that he couldn’t look away from them, could not have even said what she looked like, so trapped by her eyes was he.

  “Welcome to Havenwood Falls. We are so glad you’re here. There’s so much
you need to know.”

  And then she was gone, pulled from view as if she had a rope attached to her and someone had yanked her back.

  He ran to where she’d been, but she was gone, not even a footprint left.

  Just there, and then gone.

  Welcome to Havenwood Falls, he thought.

  Cece was so shocked at the way that experience went that for a moment she couldn’t move.

  She thought about calling him, but she wasn’t sure what she’d say. Should she apologize for her behavior? Explain what she meant? Did he know it was her in the dreams? She wasn’t even sure what she meant. She just knew that now that he was here, she was going to have to be very careful. He was extremely vulnerable. And she had to help him, but in a way such that he wouldn’t know what she was doing. And she had to keep her emotions in check. He was much more of a physical presence in person than she had expected.

  Her heart, beating hard just thinking about his lean body and smile, was a dead giveaway to her reaction to him. But the darkness behind his eyes and the way the edges of his lips didn’t quite complete the smile were signs of the turmoil his soul was in. He had come to her with no time to spare. Even now, she wanted to reach out to him, to hold him close and pull from him all the despair she felt flowing off him like a river of dread. His pain was her pain—she could feel it—but breaching the wall of that hurt and agony was going to take all the skill she possessed. She had a feeling he wouldn’t release it easily, wouldn’t let her remove it without a fight. He was clinging to it like the pain was an anchor—a reason for him to feel nothing deeply. And for a man whose words took people to heights they never expected, this was not healthy. As high as his emotions could take him, she had a feeling his valleys were equally low.

  These dreams were a direct result of her emotions and her trying to reach out to heal him. With all the miles that had separated them before, there’d been no danger for her own heart. Now that he was here, within touching distance, she worried her dreams were going to become more frequent and much more . . . personal.