by Gun Brooke
Another person, a teacher, had once shaken his head sorrowfully and claimed that it was a pity someone with her extraordinary talent would never be able to have a proper career, unless she settled for studio work and having someone act as a front in public. It didn’t take a genius to understand that he was underhandedly offering to be that front and bask in the glory of her talent.
What would her phobias and limitations do to Tierney’s life if Giselle allowed herself to be selfish? Tierney was as loyal as they came, and she would stick by Giselle, defend her, care for her, assist her. Then one day, the young woman would wake up, realize she wasn’t young anymore and that she missed all the fantastic opportunities she could have had. Same thing went for Stephanie. Giselle could tell the girl liked her, looked up to her as well as Tierney, and it wasn’t rocket science to figure out that Stephanie would like to remain with them. What if Giselle inadvertently turned her into yet another caregiver or assistant? Stephanie would feel she owed Giselle and Tierney everything for “saving her.”
Glancing over at the sleeping woman next to her, she nearly wept at the thought of losing her, but how could she justify tying Tierney down, when she was just starting to spread her wings? A small, insistent voice claimed that it was entirely possible Tierney was in love with her, that it would break the young woman’s heart if Giselle turned her away. She refused to listen to the voice, suspecting it was her own subconscious trying to persuade her to be selfish.
Giselle got up from the warm bed, donned her bathrobe, and tied the belt so hard it hurt. After padding down to the kitchen, she made some chamomile tea and sat on one of the bar stools at the counter. She ran an index finger along the hot rim of her mug. She had to make a decision, and it would be the hardest one she’d ever made.
Chapter Twenty-seven
After another four hours of working together, Tierney realized that the love she’d been so certain she and Giselle had shared last night wasn’t enough. Perhaps it never was. Giselle refused to look at her, and most important, she didn’t speak up when Helena Forsyth laid out her amazing plans. These plans would effectively take Tierney away from East Quay. From Giselle.
If only Giselle would object, just once, then Tierney would know what they shared was important and real. But now, Giselle, appearing so strong and unyielding, seemed distant and aloof, acting as if whatever Tierney decided didn’t affect her.
Tierney was walking on proverbial eggshells. She stood in the music room, surrounded by Helena, Noelle, and the Chicory Ariose members. Looking so rigid she might shatter, Giselle sat by the piano, and Stephanie had climbed up into the wide window seat, hugging her knees close. Could the others tell how tense the entire situation was?
Tierney tried to fathom what had changed since last night. Yes, Giselle wasn’t easy to understand, but Tierney had thought she did get her and her way of responding better than most. Something was off, and Tierney was beginning to fear the outcome. Was it because of the sealed records that she had yet to discuss with Giselle? Had that been the last straw somehow? Had Leanne, her cop husband, and Daphne managed to plant a seed of mistrust despite how contemptible Giselle found the trio? All these questions and negative thoughts whirled through Tierney’s head, creating enough turbulence to make it almost impossible to keep up with the business part of Helena’s proposal.
“I think it’s a marvelous opportunity for you,” Helena said, smiling broadly. “As a debut singer-songwriter, to be working with not only established artists like Chicory Ariose and Noelle Laurent is practically unheard of. It’s a chance of a lifetime, if you ask me.” She looked around the room, clearly looking for consensus. The others merely nodded but refrained from speaking.
“I know it is. It’s a wonderful way to kick-start a career,” Tierney said while she focused only on Giselle. “Would I keep working with Giselle?”
“Certainly. Mainly at a distance, though, as we’d like you to gain as much experience as possible in order to determine your stage presence, your personal way of expressing yourself, and so on.” Helena had pulled her tablet from her briefcase and tapped the screen. “Luckily, we have internet these days, which facilitates long-distance collaboration. I would suggest that you and Giselle find a schedule that works for you and get to know each other properly as colleagues, rather than employer and employee.”
“Helena,” Noelle said, her voice a low warning.
“Yes?” Oblivious of her wife’s tone, Helena gazed up, only to return her focus to her tablet.
“I think Tierney and Giselle can figure such things out themselves.” Noelle looked apologetically at Tierney. Without makeup and wearing her hair in a simple braid, she looked like a woman Tierney could have met and befriended anywhere—certainly not like the mega-star she was to the masses.
For Tierney, Helena’s matter-of-fact words cut deeper with each syllable. “Yes. We’ll figure it out.” But how could they do it without killing Tierney with the agony of missing the most important person in her life? “Giselle?”
“You’ll never find a better path to a fantastic career in the music industry.” Giselle nodded regally. “As for working together, I think our vastly unique styles may have clicked for Chicory Ariose, but I miss composing instrumental pieces of a classical nature. Yet with Helena’s backing, you’ll find a lot of musicians grateful for your lyrics. Being on the road will suit you perfectly, don’t you think? Isn’t that how you prefer to live?”
It was awful to hear Giselle talk about her as if they hardly knew each other. Intellectually, Tierney knew Giselle’s defense mechanisms were in full swing, but these thoughts had to originate from somewhere. This could be what Giselle had felt all along, despite their passion and budding romance. If only the six women hadn’t arrived before she and Giselle had had time to find their footing and establish how they viewed their relationship.
As it were, Giselle was in damage-control mode, pushing Tierney toward a future she assumed Tierney had always dreamed of. Pulling away, allowing her own fear to dictate her retreat, Tierney didn’t exactly help keep them on track. This was her method of operation, how she’d always coped. When things became unbearable, or close to it, she left. She found a new town, a place where nobody knew her or of her past. She’d learned it was the best way to survive—better to take control, lay claim to the wheel, and do all the steering before someone else ran you into the ground.
Giselle played a few soft chords. “This is the last song we worked on before you came,” she said to their visitors. “Tierney named it ‘Haunted.’” As she carefully raised her gaze to Tierney, a faint trace of what had existed there during their night of all-overshadowing lovemaking flickered in Giselle’s eyes. “Sing it for them?”
“But they already have several to choose from,” Tierney said, helpless. “Haunted” was far too personal. “And it’s not quite ready.”
“I’d love to hear this one, no matter if we will perform it or if you keep it for yourself.” Noelle spoke gently, placing a soft hand on Tierney’s arm. “If you’re up for it.”
Admitting defeat, Tierney stood by Giselle’s side. “All right.” God, she was doomed. “Can I borrow that acoustic guitar?” she asked, pointing at the guitar sitting in its stand in a corner.
“Here you go.” Mike handed her the guitar, looking a little apprehensive. “You okay?” she mouthed to Tierney.
Giselle played the intro, the ballad fitting the theme that love was reduced to a flickering, dying light. Tierney placed the guitar with the back of it against her thighs. Striking the strings in a slow, reverberating rhythm with one hand, she drummed her fingers against the wood with the other. The sound was suggestive and echoed how Giselle had played the intro a second time.
Your name on my lips
Like a kiss of hunger and passion
Yet I cannot reach you
I sit by the window
Stare at the candles
Refusing to need you
Tierney swallowed as Giselle played
the beautiful melody, heading toward the chorus. Then she picked up the pace, hitting the strings harder.
Images of you
And your voice
They taunt me
Kisses turn to ghosts
And our caresses
Will haunt me
When Tierney finished singing, her voice raspy from withheld emotions, she lowered her hands that instantly began to tremble. She saw several of the women in the room wiping away tears and rubbing goose bumps on their arms.
“Tierney, my darling,” Vivian whispered. “Where have you been hiding?”
On the road for the most part, Tierney thought. Ever since she was on her own, she’d lived day to day, walking, riding trains without tickets, and hitchhiking. If the others knew this, she didn’t think they’d see her the same way, no matter how open-minded they were. “ I’ve been around. And honestly, I’m sure thousands of singer-songwriters write better than I do. I suppose it’s just a matter of one’s vantage point.”
“And also, it’s a matter of how quick, and brilliant, a lyricist can be,” Giselle said. “I mean, it’s one thing to keep at it for weeks, even months, but Tierney has a way of listening once or twice to a melody and then feeling which topic and words suit it best.”
The praise was not unexpected. Giselle had been taken by Tierney’s texts from day one. If only Tierney had been important enough for Giselle to dare to take a chance on her. Was it truly only her defense mechanism that made Giselle pull back? Or were other variables involved that Tierney was blind to? Something entirely to do with Giselle and not with her at all? It might well be that Tierney was selfish enough to think it had anything to do with her.
“I want to try harmonizing some of the song,” Vivian said. “I think I managed to retain the words of the chorus, but do forgive me in advance for screwing up the rest.”
“No problem,” Tierney managed to say. She began singing, and Vivian joined her. She placed her harmony one minor third below Tierney’s, her mezzo-soprano reverberating like a moody cello. Their voices wove around each other, sparred, and even if Tierney sang with Vivian, she couldn’t take her eyes off Giselle.
A small hand found Tierney’s, and she jerked but then realized Stephanie had moved to stand next to her. Her eyes were dark with emotions, and she held onto Tierney’s hand with both of hers. When the song rang out, Stephanie didn’t let go. She kept clinging to Tierney, and that was when Tierney heard the unmistakable sound of a sob from Giselle.
“I think we need another break,” Giselle said huskily. “Or I do, at least.” She rose, and only then did Tierney realize how fast and shallow Giselle’s breathing was.
“Oh, dear,” Vivian said when Giselle had left the music room. “Is she all right?”
“Not sure,” Mike murmured. “Tierney? Something amiss that we’re unaware of?”
“I—I have no idea,” Tierney lied. Of course Giselle had to feel the impact of their wild emotional journey that had lasted several days. What was more, Tierney feared for the worst, given the pale, haggard look on Giselle’s face when she fled.
* * *
Giselle gasped for air, but precious little seemed to find its way to her lungs. Her heart was hammering painfully, thrashing against her ribs as if trying to cast off its moorings. Cold sweat gathered at the nape of her neck, between her breasts, and in the small of her back. Clinging to the sink in her en suite bathroom, she groaned when she sank to her knees. The heated floor tiles did little to help her regain some warmth. Her blouse stuck to her body, and so did her hair, which seemed glued to the back of her neck.
If only her distress had been caused by the love she felt for the wondrous, talented woman who so blatantly cared for her. That alone could have torn down her defenses and made Giselle believe it could work. But so many things worked against them, and as Giselle tried to fathom how it had all come down to the single hardest decision she’d ever made—it was the way it was. She had to let Tierney go. Having endured so much in her life, she deserved this chance at a career in order to wash away the past, the sealed records, and her reputation for being a troubled kid, betrayed by the system.
Sighing deeply and with such force, it made her cough, Giselle began to sob. She kept herself quiet by pressing her knuckles into her mouth and biting down so hard she was afraid she’d broken her skin as she tasted iron. She refused to get sick, even if her stomach rolled and she was beginning to sweat. A panic attack was just around the corner, and she was certain it would hit her relentlessly in a few moments.
A knock on the door made her wince.
“Giselle?”
Of course. Trust Tierney to realize something was very wrong. “I’ll be…right back. Soon.” Her teeth clattered, and Giselle clenched her jaws to keep her reaction from being obvious.
“Can I come in?” Tierney sounded concerned. “Please, Giselle?”
“I said I’ll be right back…for heaven’s sake!” Growling, Giselle tried to stop the treacherous tears from falling. “Go back to the others.” To Giselle’s dismay and fury, the door, which she hadn’t had time to lock, opened a few inches. She managed to clamor to her feet.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I can’t leave you alone to deal with something that’s my fault.” Tierney stood in the doorway, looking only marginally better than Giselle.
“How arrogant of you,” Giselle said, running the faucet. She rinsed her hands in warm water, trying to restore the feeling in her fingertips, knowing she wouldn’t be able to keep playing if she didn’t.
“I don’t mean to sound arrogant. I still think that performing that song with Vivian and you was too much. Too much and too hard. I wrote when I was really, really vulnerable.”
Gasping for air again, hating how weak this situation made her feel, Giselle flinched when Tierney’s arms came around her. “Do. Not. Touch me.” Her staccato words sounded fiercer than intended.
Tierney whimpered and held on. “Please don’t push me away. I can’t bear it.”
“Tierney, stop being so dramatic. This is about your life and what can happen to you now that you have Helena Forsythe’s undivided attention. You’re going to leave. I won’t have you here to hold me, or assist me, like before. I must get used…get used to being on my own and fending for myself.” Surprised that she could get as many words out, Giselle pushed Tierney’s hands away. If Tierney held her much longer, her resolve would wither, and she might even sink low enough to beg Tierney to stay.
It wasn’t a matter of pride. She was being selfless. Tierney had a bright future in her grasp. Going on tour with Chicory Ariose, learning from the best, was such an opportunity, and Tierney deserved it. She refused to hold her back. Not now. Not ever. “You’ve been a good assistant while I needed one. If it makes this decision easier and clearer for you, I’m firing you. I no longer have any need for your services, Tierney.”
Giselle could tell that her stark words hit home, but she had to be strong and allow Tierney this opportunity. If she told Tierney she wanted nothing more than for her to stay, she knew the warmhearted, unselfish young woman would give up her future in a heartbeat and do so. She would forever be the kid who never had a true home, who had a sealed record following her, and who lived her life as her lover’s damn assistant.
Shudders and tears created a picture of total shock on Tierney’s face. Her pale eyes looked even more colorless than before. “You don’t mean that.” Tierney drew her breath in, utter little jagged sobs. “You can’t mean that.”
“I do. Earlier, when you were walking Charley with Stephanie, I learned of Helena’s sudden, fantastic plans for you. Then, I talked to Manon. She had several suggestions how to go about this. When Chicory Ariose leaves, Manon has agreed to take you and Stephanie with her. Manon will call Stephanie’s social worker and let her know that Stephanie will stay with you at her and Eryn’s place until her new foster home is ready for her.” Wondering if the searing pain in her abdomen was like the suffering that ulcers caused, Giselle
splashed some water on her face, then dried her tears along with the droplets.
“You have it all figured out, don’t you?” Tierney spat, her eyes igniting like fireworks as her fury grew into a blaze. “You don’t ask me what I really want. What I really want. You certainly don’t ask Steph. You and your friends decide for us and expect us to just obey, no questions asked. What the hell? You’re acting as if we’re fucking marionettes. Well, I don’t see how I could ever live with someone who shows such blatant disregard for other people’s feelings just because they’re so damn afraid. Perhaps you’re doing us a favor after all.” Gripping the doorframe with both hands, Tierney stared at Giselle, the sting of her gaze hitting its target when Giselle’s heart began to bleed. “If they ask about me, tell them I’m packing. I’ll help Steph gather her few belongings as well. Surely you know you’re breaking her heart. When it comes to mine, it’s already shattered, so it really can’t get much worse, but Steph deserves better.”
Giselle used to know very little of shattered or broken hearts, since she had never truly put her own on the line. It was different now. Where her heart used to be was now a cold, empty cavity. She didn’t second-guess herself very often. Now, as she watched Tierney walk away from her, she feared she might have made the worst mistake of her life. That said, she would have to live with it, as she saw no other way forward. Tierney would have a brilliant future, and one day she might even look back and thank Giselle for it.
But that wouldn’t be enough to heal what had just fractured into millions of shards inside Giselle.
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Tierney?” Manon walked into the room that had been Tierney’s for the last month. Much like at Giselle’s house, she shared a bathroom with Steph, who stayed in a room that mirrored her own.
