by Jen Gilroy
“I meant what I said about hearing ‘My Hometown Heart’ on the radio. I have a friend who has a recording studio near Utica. I called him this morning, and he’ll give me studio space plus mixing to record your song—you and Hannah together. What do you say?” His voice had an undercurrent of excitement.
When Annie was Hannah’s age, she’d have killed for an offer like that. Even now, it was tempting. “It’s really generous, but . . .” Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the scattered music in the living room.
“But what?” His expression held no guile. “We could also hire backup musicians at minimal cost.”
She studied him. “What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one. I met Pete soon after I moved to LA. We worked on a couple of songwriting projects together before he moved to the music production side. He’s from Georgia, too, so he looked out for another green kid from the South.” His tone was frank. “He left the West Coast a few years ago because once their kids were grown, he and his wife wanted to slow down. He does good work, and I trust him.”
But could she trust Seth? She wanted to. She shifted on the hard stairs. “Even if I recorded the song, who would be interested in it? Folks here liked it when they heard it at the fundraiser, but they’re my family and friends. It’s not like they’re going to tell me they hated it.”
“The tourists liked it, too.” He leaned toward her, and she caught her breath at that overwhelming masculinity. “All you need to do is sing like you did on Saturday night. When you got up on that stage, magic happened. You were a different person.”
She recoiled. “You mean the real me is dull and boring?”
“Of course not.” His eyes narrowed. “Is that what Hannah’s dad told you?”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter. “Not in so many words, but I’m a small-town girl from a place most people have never heard of. I made some stupid choices and dropped out of college because I believed someone who fed me a bunch of lines about having a future in music. Now I work in my family’s bakery. End of story.” Her vision blurred.
“Hey.” His expression softened. “It doesn’t have to be the end of your story. Whatever Todd said was wrong. There isn’t anybody who hasn’t made bad choices. They’re only stupid if you don’t learn from them and you make the same ones over again.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Lots of smart people never finished college, and a bunch of big stars come from places most people never heard of.”
She drew in a breath. She’d conquered a lot of her fears, but maybe not quite all of them. “It’s not only about me. Hannah . . . she’s—”
“Not you.” Seth’s voice was firm. “You can’t live Hannah’s life for her. All you can do is love and guide her. She’ll make her own mistakes.” He clasped his hands under his chin. “It’s easier to say than do, and I’m not a model dad, but anybody can see you’re doing your best with her.”
“Thanks.” Her voice cracked.
Seth understood her in a way not even her sisters did.
“By the way . . .” His smile turned teasing. “Just to clear things up, any woman who can kiss like you sure isn’t dull and boring. You rocked it on stage, but when you were kissing me, you hit it out of the park.”
“I . . .” Annie’s face heated.
“What happened between us on Saturday night was important.”
So important she couldn’t let herself think about it. “People get carried away after gigs all the time.” She tried to make her tone casual.
“I don’t, and I don’t think you do either.” Seth’s breath feathered the hair at her nape. “In fact, I don’t think I ever got carried away like that before.”
But she had, and that was why, until now, she’d made sure it never happened again. “I’m a mom.”
His soft and seductive laugh curled around her heart. “So, I’m a dad. What does parenthood have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. But . . .” She bit her bottom lip. What would it be like to live from her heart? And to explore whatever was between them? She inched closer to him on the stairs.
“Let me know what you what you want to do about the recording session.” He stood and picked up his toolbox. “I’ll swing by and install that new part for your door later this week.”
“Wait.” She scrambled to her feet. There was no reason for her not to take a chance in music—as well as life. Except, she didn’t know what scared her more. Facing her fears or not taking that step and always wondering. Then, before she lost her nerve, she moved in close, stood on tiptoe in front of him, and covered his mouth with hers.
Chapter 15
Three days later, Seth closed the old photo album and slid it back into the bottom of the chest of drawers in the apartment living room. Apart from a cursory flip through it, he’d avoided the album up until now, but whether he liked it or not, Jake was part of his past, and so the pictures were too. And if whatever was between he and Annie had a chance to go anywhere—and after that kiss she’d planted on him in her front hall, he wanted it to—he owed it to her, as well as to himself, to deal with the past then put it behind him.
He stared at the picture of his mom and Jake that had fallen out of one of the plastic sleeves and onto the carpet. They sat at a rectangular table with a group of other people with scattered drinks and half-filled plates of food. They were in a restaurant or nightclub, given the dim light and high, banquette seats.
His mom had big hair and even bigger earrings, and a bearded Jake had one arm around her shoulders, his other hand resting on the curve of her pregnant belly covered by a polka-dot maternity top. Oblivious to the camera and everyone else at the table, the two of them stared into each other’s eyes. Whatever had happened later, the picture proved they’d loved each other once. And they’d loved him, too.
Seth eased Dolly off his lap and went to the galley kitchen to grab a soda from the fridge. He should be happy Jake had cared about him and his mom, but instead, all he felt was sadness for what all of them had lost.
The dog ran to the door and pawed at it.
Seth set his unopened soda aside. “I took you out after Dylan called.” A call that hadn’t been about anything important but was still the most important call he’d had with his son in months because it was part of the two of them inching their way back to what they’d once shared.
Dolly whined and looked at him with soulful brown eyes.
“Okay, five minutes and then bed.” Although the early morning starts were getting easier, he should have been asleep half an hour ago. Once he’d started looking at the album, though, he couldn’t stop.
Seth grabbed Dolly’s leash from a hook and stuck his feet into his sneakers.
At a light knock on the door, Dolly erupted into a chorus of barks.
He pulled open the door. “Annie. What is it? Has something happened to Hannah or your family?”
“No. They’re fine.” Her hair was windblown, and she was out of breath. “It’s . . . you have to come outside and see. When I saw your light still on, and the station door was unlocked, I came in. Half the town is over by the wishing tree. Didn’t you notice?”
“No. I’ve been busy . . . with stuff. See what?” Seth pulled on a sweatshirt, clipped Dolly’s leash to her collar, and shut the apartment door behind them.
“The northern lights. You heard of them, city guy?” Her smile warmed him like it always did, along with that underlying sizzle of sexual attraction.
“You mean nature’s light show, otherwise known as the Aurora Borealis?” He teased her back.
“Yep.” She skipped down the stairs outside the station, and Seth followed her along the path to the wishing tree, with Dolly at his heels. “We rarely see them here. I’ve only ever seen them once before. Look.” She pointed.
Seth sucked in a breath. He�
�d seen pictures, sure, but they couldn’t compare to the reality. “Wow.”
“Amazing, aren’t they?” Her voice was an awed whisper.
“They sure are.” Even Dolly was quiet as flashes of green, purple, and blue light lit up the sky.
Annie moved closer to his side. “When I was about ten, my mom and dad woke my sisters and Brendan and me up late one night to see the northern lights. We got bundled into our parkas and came out here.”
“Did you write a song about it?”
“Not then, but when I was older.”
His heart caught at the wistful expression in her eyes.
“Seeing the lights with my dad is a special memory. In a way, I wrote the song in remembrance of him.”
“Will you sing it for me sometime?” He held his breath.
“Sure.” There was a smile in her voice. “I think you’d have liked my dad. He was the kind of guy who believed in God, family, and country. He liked hockey in winter and fishing in summer. He was also smart about business and had a fantastic sense of humor.”
“He sounds great. A lot like Brendan, actually.” Heat radiated through Seth’s chest. In sharing an important part of her past with him, Annie had also given him a piece of her soul.
“He was.” Her smile was tender and her eyes were bright. “Brendan looks like Dad too, at least how I remember him.”
“I’m honored you’ll sing for me again.” And humbled she finally trusted him enough to take that next step.
“I’ve thought about the recording session too.” Her voice was soft. “I’ll do it. My dad wouldn’t have wanted me to give up on a dream. He always told us to reach for the stars. Even if you didn’t get there, he said you had to try and maybe you’d catch the moon instead.”
“Your dad would be proud of you.” Seth’s tongue got thick. “I’m proud of you, too.” In the light breeze, the wishes and tokens tied to the wishing tree rustled like a flock of benevolent birds.
“I haven’t done it yet.”
“You will.” He knew that about her. “Because if you don’t, Tara and Rowan will kick your butt.”
Her chuckle warmed the darkness. “Like you wouldn’t.”
“Maybe.” But he wanted to kiss her more. He glanced at her bright hair and the soft curve of her cheek, and his body stirred.
“Singing at the fundraiser was the kick in the butt I needed to start putting my past behind me.” Her tone was wistful. “All my songs have been in boxes, but when I looked at them this week, I realized the most important part of my life has been in a box too. I already decided I needed to change my life so I’d have something for me after Hannah left home, but I didn’t think it could be my music.”
Seth put a hand to his chest. Had the most important part of his life been in a box too? Had he been so focused on the past, he hadn’t let himself think about the future? And had he hung onto Dylan and interfered in his life because he hadn’t wanted to let him go? “Even after Hannah leaves home, she’ll still be part of your life.”
“Not like she is now.” Annie’s voice was sad. “She won’t need me in the same way. When Dylan was here, I looked at him and saw Hannah in a few years. It’s great that she needs her own life, but I’m not ready for it.” She gave a dry laugh. “I don’t think any mom is ever ready for their kid to fly the nest, but Hannah’s all I’ve ever had. I don’t want to stop her growing up, but it’s time I looked beyond her, my family, and the bakery and did something more for me. I’m taking a pottery class, and I signed up for an online college course, but my music . . . I can’t ignore it any longer. It’s like a big ache inside. I need to see where music might take me.”
Seth shifted from one foot to the other, and the technicolor display in the sky wavered. He wasn’t anything like Annie. He’d done lots of stuff for himself, separate from Dylan. But maybe he’d overcompensated with his son because he’d wanted to give Dylan everything he hadn’t had growing up and then hadn’t known when to stop. “You’re a wise woman.”
“If I am, I got it from my mom. She was a great teacher. She still is. The way she’s handling Duncan’s illness . . .” She stopped and cleared her throat.
He touched her shoulder. “Duncan’s going to be fine.”
“I know, but even though Mom and the doctors are saying all the right things, it’s still another reminder that life is short. And compared to those lights up there, we’re a pretty small part of the universe.” Her expression was pensive.
“That sounds like another song.” Seth’s breathing slowed. No matter what they talked about, or what they were doing, Annie calmed and centered him.
“One I haven’t written.”
“Yet.” Even though a bunch of folks from town were nearby, he and Annie could have been in another world.
“You believe in me, don’t you?” She tilted her head toward him.
“Always.” He did, and it wasn’t an idle assertion. Seth sucked in a quick breath. How had it happened? He hadn’t known Annie long, but it felt like forever, and his connection with her defied logical explanation.
“What are you two doing over here all cozy?” At Rowan’s voice behind them, Seth started.
“We aren’t cozy.” Annie’s face went red. “What are you two doing sneaking up on people?” She glanced at Tara behind Rowan.
“Coming up to two people in the middle of a crowd isn’t sneaking.” Tara’s voice had a teasing note. “Shouldn’t you be in bed? You’re not a morning person.”
“Like either of you are.” Annie’s voice softened and she grinned at her sisters.
“Unlike you and Tara, I don’t start work until eight.” Rowan gestured to the dark-haired boy and girl at her side. “My kids should be in bed, but we couldn’t miss this.” She glanced around. “Where’s Hannah?”
“As far away from me as possible with some friends from school.” Annie’s laugh was strained. “Your two are still young enough, but at Hannah’s age, it’s not cool to hang out with your mom.”
Rowan flicked a speculative glance at Seth. “There are other advantages to having a kid who is older.”
Annie exhaled. “Button it.”
“We’re going. The show is ending anyway.” After Tara glanced between Seth and Annie, a slow smile spread across her face. “At least one of them is.”
“Good night.” Annie’s voice was firm.
“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.” Rowan shooed her kids in the direction of several other women with children, and her eyes twinkled.
“That gives me a lot of scope, doesn’t it?” Annie made a face.
As soon as Rowan and Tara were out of earshot, the laugh Seth couldn’t hold back spilled out. “Now I know why folks talk about the Quinn sisters in action.”
“My sisters and I are close, but I’m still my own person.”
At Annie’s prim tone, Seth sobered. “Of course you are. Thanks for showing me the northern lights. Sharing them with you was good.” No, it was fabulous. When he’d come to Irish Falls and ended up staying, he’d thought he wanted to be alone. But somewhere along the line, things had changed. He’d made friends, like Brendan, the guys he worked with at the station, and Annie, too. Except, she was more than a friend.
“The first time I saw the northern lights, I thought they were magic. A part of me still wants to believe that.”
Her face shone in the moonlight, and a jolt of awareness shot through him. The leaves on the wishing tree made a gentle swishing sound, and he stilled.
Although the past he didn’t want to think about still loomed large and, even though he’d always been a sceptic, maybe there was something in that tree after all. Although it might be awkward and uncertain for both of them, he and Annie were tiptoeing toward something—something special. And if that wasn’t magic, what was?
~ ~ ~
Hannah was fine at her friend’s place. Annie had no reason to doubt her daughter. Singing more of her songs for Seth would be fine, too. It would help her prepare for the recording session only two weeks away. Annie took a deep breath and gathered up the folder of music, her purse, and a still-warm loaf of soda bread wrapped in a tea towel from her kitchen counter. She only had to walk over to Seth’s place and show him some of her other songs like they’d arranged.
Ten minutes—and more deep breaths later—she rapped on the apartment door she now thought of as Seth’s, not Jake’s.
“Hey.” Seth opened the door and gestured her in. “I was about to text you. Can Hannah come over later? I’d like to do more work with her on the harmony for ‘My Hometown Heart.’”
“Sure. Her last exam is this week so she’s at a friend’s house studying, but she’ll be done in a few hours.” At least that’s where Hannah had said she’d be and, despite that persistent twinge of uncertainty—one that had intensified since the talent show—Annie was being too suspicious. She handed him the loaf of bread.
“Thanks.” Seth’s eyes gleamed, and her mouth went dry. His expression hinted at more than a simple thank you for baking.
She kicked off her shoes and moved across the small entry and into the combined living/dining room. Apart from the big-screen TV and premium dog bed, the place was as basic as it had been when Jake lived here. “Mom says you can’t resist Quinn’s soda bread,” Annie said.
“Among other things.” Seth’s slow gaze slid from the top of her head to the tips of her toes before zeroing in on the folder of music she clutched to her chest.
“Want to get started?” She made her voice bright. “I walked over so I didn’t bring my guitar. I thought we could use the Gibson.”
“Sure.” Seth went to the hall closet and opened it.
