When he wanted to take me out for dinner I'd been afraid that the restaurant wouldn't be up to his standards, since I had to pick a family-type one that wouldn't look askance at Jenna in her carrier. He pronounced the Setherwood Café "nice and casual", though, and gave my hand a squeeze, and I felt better.
At least, I did until the waitress cooed over Jenna and said to Austin, "Is this your daughter?" His response of, "No, but isn't she cute?" was nice, but I didn't like how quickly he gave it. Of course she wasn't his, and I wouldn't have expected him to say she was, but somehow it hurt me that he'd thrown that out there so fast, worried me that he might never say anything but that.
And after he followed me and Jenna home and I saw him noticing the cracked front steps of the building and the awning that had seen better days, I worried about that too. I didn't let him come in, since I'd left the place in an unusual mess in my rush to get to him, but as the rattly elevator hauled me up I realized that he'd given my battered old car a sideways glance too. No wonder, since it was nothing like his immaculate SUV.
I sat in my apartment, worrying about whether my budget lifestyle could ever blend with Austin's luxury one, while I fed Jenna, then once she was sleeping I called my mom to say he'd returned and we were going to try out a relationship. She said, "How about that? Galen was right," and suggested we have brunch on Saturday so she could meet Austin.
I didn't get to see him on Friday because he had a work party that night, and after spending hours thinking about how glamorous his party probably was and how drab my life would seem to him by comparison I had half-expected he wouldn't show up on Saturday although he'd agreed right away when I'd texted to invite him.
But when I arrived with Jenna, right on time though I'd wanted to be early, he was already there and chatting awkwardly with my mom who'd recognized him from Arabella's pictures. His kiss had been quick and light because of my mom, but it had still been sweet, and my relief that he hadn't decided we were too different to work out made everything even sweeter.
So did the gift he'd brought me.
I take a sip of my sub-standard tea and as I swallow I slide the edge of the soft silk between my fingers, both loving and questioning it. The scarf is gorgeous, and I'm sure it was expensive, but though it's lovely and I appreciate it I am not and never have been a fan of pale pink. Even Jenna's clothes are in the most vibrant shades I can find.
Austin doesn't know that, though. I didn't wear any pastel shades on the cruise but of course that doesn't necessarily mean they're not my colors, and it's not like he was cataloguing my clothes anyhow. I refuse to let how little we know about each other upset me. We will learn.
Our waiter arrives and Mom reaches for our bill, refusing Austin's attempt to pay with a calm "I invited, I pay". I long to know whether she likes him; she's been friendly enough throughout, but I feel like she's choosing her words carefully every time she speaks and that's not like her. Once the bill's dealt with, she reaches out and brushes her fingertips over Jenna's fuzzy head. "So what are you and Mommy and Austin going to do now, Jenna?"
Jenna burps.
"Excuse you," I say, laughing. "We're going to the library, assuming she doesn't plan to keep making such rude noises so we get kicked out. There's a story time thing there on Saturdays and I want to sign her up for the next session in a few months. They fill up super-fast, apparently."
"Sounds like fun." She turns to Austin. "Not your typical Saturday afternoon, I'd guess. Right?"
"I'd usually be catching up on work or drumming, but I'm enjoying this a lot more."
"Drumming?" Mom and I say together.
Austin turns to me, surprised. "You didn't know? No, I guess not, I only started a month ago. I ran into an old university buddy and he and a bunch of guys hang out and play old rock songs and jazz stuff and whatever else crosses their minds. They needed a drummer, though, and I played in high school so I hang out with them on Saturday afternoons and jam."
"So shouldn't you be there today?"
He winks at me. "No, I should be here. But I could be there. You'll have to come with me some time. It'd be good for a laugh for you."
"Maybe next week, if Jenna's cooperating. But for now we should probably hit the library. Thanks for brunch, Mom."
"Yes, thank you very much, Helena." Austin gets to his feet and picks up Jenna's carrier by the handle before I can grab it, then sets her down again and says, "Let me get a picture. She's extra-cute today." Once he's taken several, he puts away his phone and picks up the carrier once more. "Great to meet you," he says to Mom.
She smiles and gets up. "You too. Galen will be— oh, Corinne, I forgot to tell you."
I raise my eyebrows, and she grimaces and says, "He and Arabella broke up last night."
"Oh, no," I say. "Why?"
Mom shrugs. "He just said they tried but it didn't work."
I try, and fail, not to feel like this is a bad omen for my brand-new relationship with Austin. Arabella and Galen seemed so happy together, so perfect for each other. If they couldn't make it work...
"I thought they were just friends, on the cruise," Austin says. "No?"
"Yes, then. But they'd been together before and tried it again and..." I shake my head.
"I'm sorry it didn't work out," Austin says to Mom as we walk out of the restaurant. "I liked Arabella on the cruise, and Galen seemed like a good guy too." He gives me a small smile. "And quite protective of his sister."
Mom laughs. "Yeah, he's definitely that. Anyhow, have fun at the library."
Once she's gone her own way and Austin and Jenna and I are safely in my car, he pulls me close and presses a kiss to my forehead. "Did I do okay?"
I look at him, surprised at the concern in his voice. "Of course. Wasn't it obvious?"
He shrugs. "I don't usually care what people think of me, but this time..." He shrugs again. "It's your mom. It's kind of important she likes me."
I smile, touched that he cares so much. "Well, she did, I think. And what's more important is that someone else likes you."
He kisses my mouth lightly. "Glad to hear it."
"Oh, not me." I look pointedly into the backseat of the car. "I meant Jenna."
We chuckle and head off to the library. When we walk into the community centre we hear loud jazzy music, which doesn't sound like a recording. Austin looks around and points at a sign by a set of double doors that reads, "Toronto Concert Band special rehearsal - come on in and listen!"
So we do. We creep into the room and stand watching and listening to a band of about fifty people. They're working on a part with a clarinet and trumpet and saxophone each playing what sound like improvised solos against the rest of the band's accompaniment, and moments after we arrive the conductor cuts them off and says, "Where's the attitude, people? I need fierce. Let's see it."
Everyone snarls at once, clearly what they always do when he asks for 'fierce', then bursts out laughing. The conductor shoots us a smile then starts them off again, though many of the players are still chuckling too hard to play right away, and I do hear a difference in the solo parts. The attitude he requested is making an appearance.
I can't stop listening to the clarinet player. He's not as good technically as I am, as I was, but there's such energy in his playing and he's clearly having so much fun. I never, ever, had that much fun with my clarinet.
The band moves on to a less interesting song after taking that one to a close, and Jenna starts to fuss, so Austin and I slip away.
Out in the hall, as I undo Jenna's straps in the carrier so I can get her out and cuddle her Austin says, "Did you hear that drummer? Pretty cool. I'm going to steal some of those riffs."
"Nope," I say softly, still thinking about the clarinetist.
Austin wraps his arm around my waist, then pulls me closer. "You okay?"
I shrug, not sure how to explain it. I haven't heard a clarinet since I quit playing mine, and the sound seems to be vibrating through my very soul.
He kisses
my temple. "Clarinet-related issue?"
I nod.
"If you wanted to," he says slowly, "you'd be totally welcome to play with me and my buddies some Saturday."
Terror sweeps me at the thought, ridiculously out of proportion to his suggestion. "Play clarinet? With you guys?" But it's not the "with you guys" part that's the problem. I've hardly listened to music at all since the orchestra, never mind played any. Do I want that back in my life? Could I handle it?
"If you wanted to," he says again. "They're nice guys." He smiles, looking like he's remembering something. "I was awful when I first started playing with them, and they did mock me but it was the supportive type of mocking, if that makes sense."
The way Galen teases me about how poorly I'm taking care of Jenna because she's getting so pudgy comes to mind, and I nod and smile. "It does." My smile fades. "But I don't know if I want to play."
He pulls me closer. "Come listen if you want, and you could bring the clarinet and leave it in the car so it'll be there if you want to try."
No chance I'd leave a delicate expensive instrument in the car, but I know the rest of his statement makes sense so I say, "We'll see."
He kisses me. "Sure. Now. Stay put while I take a few pictures, because you two are stunning today, and then should we listen to the band some more or go sign up the peach for story hour?"
"Let's sign her up," I say.
Austin decided on Thursday night at dinner, after stroking Jenna's soft head, that he would call her 'peach'. I think it's adorable, but I'm not going to do it myself. I like that he likes my daughter enough to want to give her a nickname and I think it'd be cute for it to be their thing.
Assuming we stay together long enough for Jenna to know they have a thing. So far everything's great, but I know all too well that just wanting to succeed at something, like how Austin wants to succeed at our relationship, isn't enough to guarantee it'll work out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next Saturday, I do go to Austin's music group but I don't bring the clarinet. I peeked at it in the back of my closet for a few moments but I couldn't even bear to touch it. Music's not a part of my life any more. It can't be. I can't do it the way I dreamed of and so I don't want to do it at all. I have new plans now.
But this group is clearly a big part of Austin's life so I want to see it, and I also want to see how cute he looks playing the drums, so Jenna and I meet him at the rehearsal space where the group plays.
Austin's hauling equipment out of the back of his SUV, with three guys helping him out, when we arrive, and he turns to me with a grin and says, "You made it. And on time too." He gently pats my drowsy daughter's head. "Good job, peach."
I laugh. "Hardly her work, trust me. She just lies there and makes me get everything ready for her."
"Of course. She knows she's the peach. Let me just grab a picture."
"A picture? That's not like you."
He winks at me then pulls out his phone and takes several pictures of me holding Jenna's carrier and a few close-ups of just her. He's got to have a hundred pictures already, but he says he loves taking them and I think it's sweet he wants to.
Once he's done, he clears his throat and turns to the guys who are standing looking at us with surprise. "I brought a guest. Hope that's okay."
They nod and say it's fine, and he continues. "Corinne, Chris and Patrick and Art. Saxophone and guitar and bass. Don't worry about getting their names down. I get 'em mixed up too."
We all laugh, while I try to make sure I know who's who, and Austin goes on with, "Guys, these lovely ladies are my... friend Corinne and her baby Jenna."
We haven't discussed an official title for our relationship, since our relationship itself isn't official, but the word "friend" takes on a lot more layers than usual when he says it. He didn't say "girlfriend" but that seems to hang in the air. It warms my heart even as it scares me, and I see the guys recognize it too. Art says, "And, um... is the baby yours?"
Austin shakes his head. "Pre-existing condition, let's say." He turns to me. "Can I say it like that?"
I nod, since it's true, and Art smiles and holds out his hand to me. "I don't think Austin's ever said 'my... friend' like that," he says, copying the hesitation perfectly. "You're a unique phenomenon."
I smile, not sure what to say, and shake his hand then shake hands with Chris and Patrick too.
"Do you play an instrument?"
I shake my head before Austin can answer Chris. "I'm just here to listen."
"Then we should get set up," Art says, "so you can."
Austin shuts and locks his SUV, and I laugh as I notice his bumper sticker for the first time. "Nice. 'Keep Austin weird.'"
"As if he wouldn't do that on his own," Chris says.
"I've got like six of those at home." Austin picks up the last of his stuff. "Everyone who goes to Texas buys me one for some reason."
"I can tell you the reason," Art says.
"I can kick your ass. And I'll always stay weird, trust me."
We all laugh and head into the small rehearsal hall, but my amusement fades faster than theirs because I'm wondering if Austin will stay 'weird'. Can he change just enough to make our relationship work, make himself into something approaching a father, without becoming someone completely different than the awesome fun-loving person he was on the cruise? Is that even possible? And if not, what are we doing here? Why even try if there's no chance of success?
I sit in the front row of audience chairs, the sleeping Jenna in my arms, and watch as they get themselves arranged on the low stage. Austin puts his drum set together quickly then comes over to me. "You okay?"
I nod, and make myself relax and smile at him. We are trying and there is a chance. "They seem nice."
"Yeah, well, you don't know them yet."
I giggle, and he leans down to give me a quick kiss then goes back to the drums. I notice with interest that he repositions everything he'd set up; apparently he just slapped them together then came to check on me. His kindness makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
"If we're too loud for you and the baby," Patrick calls to me, fiddling with the guitar strap around his neck, "let us know and we can turn down the amps."
"Can't turn me down, though," Austin says. "I'm always loud."
They all say some variation of, "No shit," at once, and we laugh.
Then they start playing. The other guys don't seem bothered by my presence but Austin keeps peeking over at me, and frequently messing up his rhythms at the same time, and eventually Art stops the group, sets down his electric bass, and says, "Come on, man, don't make me tell Corinne all my drummer jokes."
Austin attempts to twirl a stick, but drops it. The others chuckle, and as he picks it up he says, "Do your worst. Corinne won't laugh at them. She's on my side."
"How can you check if the stage is level?" Art calls to me.
I raise my chin and give him a cool look.
He grins. "See if the drummer's drooling evenly out of both sides of his mouth."
I keep the cool look going.
"Attagirl," Austin says.
"How can you tell there's a drummer at your door?" Patrick offers. As I transfer my gaze to him he says, "He knocks faster and faster and then comes in late."
"Hi-larious," Austin mutters.
After all my years in music I've heard both these jokes, and probably a lot more they haven't heard, so I switch one of my favorites from 'oboist' and 'piccolo player' to fit the situation. "Did you guys hear," I say, "about the guitarist who was so bad even the bassist noticed?"
They stare for a second then burst out laughing along with Austin, who leaves his drums and comes over to give me a smacking kiss on the mouth. "Beautiful," he says softly, his eyes warm, before going back to his place.
"The kitten has claws," Art says, grinning at me. "I like it. Now, we gonna keep insulting each other or we gonna play?"
Although a few more insults do fly, they play for nearly two hours.
Jenna, amazingly, sleeps for most of it, then wakes up hungry. I drape myself with a blanket to make sure there's no chance of anyone getting an unexpected peek, and once she's done nursing she gives a solid burp that amuses the guys then I hold her facing them and she seems to enjoy watching and listening.
I do too. Just like the concert band Austin and I heard, these guys have fun with their music. They make mistakes all over the place, fall apart and need to start again, and none of it seems to matter. They're playing for the sheer joy of it.
Music must have brought me that sort of joy too, at some point. I can't remember it, but that doesn't mean it never happened.
Does it?
*****
Tuesday afternoon Mom and I are sitting in her back yard, enjoying the fresh cool October air and watching Jenna watching everything around her. "She's adorable, honey," Mom says, for what has to be the millionth time in Jenna's short life.
I smile, and she adds, "Speaking of adorable, was that Austin's first diaper change yesterday?"
"Happy Thanksgiving to him, right? But yeah, it was." My smile widens. "He did well. Granted, it took him like twice as long as it takes me."
She laughs. "Which is only fair since he's new at it. Sweet, and surprising, that he offered. Did you expect him to help you that much?"
I hadn't even expected him to come to our Thanksgiving celebration, never mind deal with Jenna's fortunately only wet diaper. When I told him I'd be spending the day at Mom's I did invite him to come along but I felt sure he wouldn't want to jump into such a family-oriented holiday. He'd been thrilled, though, since his mother had never bothered celebrating Thanksgiving, and he'd helped Aunt Phaedra get the lumps out of her gravy and carried the turkey to the table for Mom and cheered with the rest of us as Galen carved the perfectly roasted bird. I'd felt like he'd always been there.
"I didn't know what to expect," I say, "but when we were first getting back together he did say he wanted to help me. I guess he finally got the nerve yesterday. Maybe I'll let him change all her diapers from now on."
Mom laughs. "Won't save you much time if you insist on standing watching him."
Plan Overboard (Toronto Series #14) Page 16
