Authors: Julie Blair
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“What, and ruin another family myth—Hannah the party girl? Hannah with a different girlfriend every month? Hannah who doesn’t understand love?”
“I haven’t been fair to you.”
“You had your own stuff to deal with, Lizzie. I don’t even know if she’s okay. How fucked up is that? Don’t leave things in a bad place with Jax. You two have something special.”
Had something special, until she ruined it. Jac still wasn’t here. Liz checked her watch. She frowned and tapped the dial. The second hand wasn’t moving. She covered it with her hand. No. She wasn’t ready to let go of the past.
“We had some fun, didn’t we?”
“I’m glad you’re not moving back to some tropical island.”
“Someone has to straighten out this family.”
They announced the flight would begin boarding. Was Jac waiting until the last minute so she wouldn’t have to talk to Liz? She stared out to the tarmac. The plane was waiting to take her home. Back to normal. Away from all this tropical nonsense.
Best vacation ever.
Liz shoved through the music-room door and flung her satchel on the floor near the piano. Oscar flattened his ears as he watched her from his perch on the back of the couch, as if scolding her for being late. Again. Cassie, Regan, and Sammy continued to joke around, ignoring her, probably hoping she wasn’t going to bite their heads off. Again.
“Hear from Jac today?” her dad asked, walking in behind her.
“No.” Liz was exhausted from two weeks of classes and a full schedule of private lessons, on top of stress about the band and the festival on Friday. And always, every minute, worry about Jac. She hadn’t seen or heard from Jac since Hawaii. She hadn’t returned Liz’s phone messages. Peggy didn’t know when Jac would be coming home. Liz had stayed away from Carmel. Jac’s message was clear.
“That’s not professional.” He looked tired and kept tugging his pants up. He’d lost weight. Probably stress over Kevin and Karen’s separation.
Plopping down at the piano, Liz ran through a series of chords, hoping by some miracle it would be different this time. She winced. That same zinging pain shot up from her hand all the way to her elbow in spite of the extra Advil. Weeks of feeling normal and then bam. Ever since she’d returned from Hawaii, it hurt like hell. Different than after the cast came off. Worse. Tons worse. The kind of pain that made her nauseous.
“Short rehearsal tonight,” Liz said. Regan and Sammy shared a look. Of course they should run through the whole set for Monterey. They should be rehearsing every day leading up to the show. She hadn’t told anyone about her wrist. She didn’t need them any more worried than was normal before a big performance. She planned to rest it and load up on Advil, maybe Vicodin, and pray that in four days she could get through the most important set of her life. “I decided on the encore.” Not “Carmel Sketches.” If they got an encore. She was playing like crap, and they all knew it.
The door opened and everyone looked toward it. Liz plastered her palm to her chest. Air rushed out of her lungs, as if she’d been punched. Jac. Tanned. Sun-bleached hair. Wearing a Tommy Bahama blouse. Max at her side. Liz’s heart galloped under her hand, and she swallowed hard as questions banged into each other.
“Missed a few rehearsals,” her dad said, but no one paid attention to him. Sammy gave Regan a thumbs-up. Cassie caught Liz’s eye and winked.
No one said anything as Jac released Max from his harness. He walked directly to Liz, tail wagging, and put his paws on the piano bench. She ruffled his ears and scrabbled her fingers down his back the way that made him wiggle his butt. God, she’d missed him. He settled on the floor on his spot by the couch, a respectful distance from Oscar. Her hands trembled as Jac took her trumpet from its case, ran through several arpeggios, and then blew a high C that went on forever. She couldn’t get the last time they’d played out of her head.
Jac went to her usual position next to Sammy and nodded in Liz’s direction.
Never taking her eyes from Jac, Liz started them off on “Carmel Sketches.” Everything faded, and it was just Jac and the music they’d written together. Her wrist hurt like hell as she played with everything she had.
When the final note faded, all Liz heard was her heart beating against her ribs. Jac’s improvising was daring, confident, and sensuous, a refined version of how she’d played the last night in Hawaii. Cassie clapped her sticks together. Regan slapped her guitar. Sammy whispered something to Jac, who nodded but didn’t smile. Her dad folded his arms, looking smug.
“Let’s do ‘Spring Time,’ ‘Combustion,’ and ‘Soaring Hawk,’” Liz said. “Then we’ll do another run-through of ‘Carmel Sketches’ and call it a night.” Could she make it through four songs? She massaged her wrist. Her dad looked her way and she stopped. She was afraid to tell him it hurt.
Jac turned toward her and tilted her head, frowning, then went to the couch. Sitting with her trumpet in her lap, she petted Max through the three songs. When she joined them for “Carmel Sketches,” she played even more beautifully.
“Great work,” Liz said. She rubbed her wrist as everyone filed out, except Jac. Her heart was in her throat, and all she could think about was that night in Hawaii and how much she’d wanted Jac.
“Hello, Liz,” Jac said, standing by the piano. “What’s wrong with your wrist?”
“I don’t know.” Tears stung her eyes from the pain.
“Have you seen the doctor?”
“I will after the festival. I’m glad you came back.”
“Monterey’s important.”
Liz’s heart dropped. Jac came back for the show.
“Is this your last rehearsal?” Jac was all business. Not a speck of acknowledgement in her voice that they were friends.
“Yes.”
“I’ll meet you backstage Friday.” Jac’s distant, detached attitude sent chills through Liz. If she’d hoped for forgiveness, she saw no sign of it. Jac packed her trumpet and put Max’s harness on.
“I’ll walk out with you. Did Peggy drive you?”
“Mom did. No need to walk me out.” Jac hesitated, and for an instant, something heavy hung in the air between them. Then she straightened her shoulders and left.
Liz followed a few steps behind, as if pulled by a magnetic force. It hurt so much to watch Jac walk away. She waved to Susan. The car pulled from the curb. A stab of longing made her want to chase it.
“You’re looking like you lost your best friend,” Cassie said, draping her arm over Liz’s shoulders. “Don’t take a genius to figure out something happened with Jac.”
“A misunderstanding.”
“If I was a betting woman, I’d say it was the romantic kind of misunderstanding.”
“Save your nickels.”
“Whatever you say.” Cassie walked on ahead. “If losing her makes you play like you been lately, you better rethink what you’re about, girlfriend.”
“Cass, wait.” No point denying it. “Things got out of hand and I made a mistake. I don’t know how to fix it.”
“For better or worse, T gave you this shot for the band. She can’t give you happiness.”
“I don’t know what that is anymore.”
“If you found it with Jac, you’re a fool for letting her go.”
“I’ll always love Teri.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Cassie gave her a funny look. “You and Jac click. It’s in your music. You can’t hide or fake that.”
“It’s just music.”
“It’s just your heart singing. Why you being so stubborn? How many people are lucky enough to fall in love twice? Now go say good-bye to T and get on with your life.” Cassie kissed her cheek. “I love you. Don’t disappoint me.”
“I want to talk to you after dinner about the fall tour,” her dad said as Liz gathered up her stuff in the music room. “And I don’t want to make you nervous, but an agent approached me about promoting you. He’ll be at Monterey to hear a couple of groups, including you.”
“Are we ready for that?” Something was seriously wrong with her wrist.
“You take the breaks when they come,” he said. “Teri would be thrilled.”
“Hey, Pops,” Sammy said, poking his head in the door. “Gotta run.”
“You’re not having dinner?”
“Can’t.”
Regan walked in, her arm around Vicky. “I’ll see you Friday,” she said to Liz.
“We always have dinner together after practice,” her dad said, frowning.
“Got plans.” Regan had on blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt. Only her Converse shoes were black. Amazing.
“I guess it’s you and me, sunshine,” he said as they headed toward the restaurant. “I want your opinion on Louise’s chicken potpie. She wants to put it on the menu.”
“When’s Rebecca coming back?” She’d been on vacation for the last two weeks, the longest she’d ever been gone. He said nothing. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“Rebecca took a job in Sacramento.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You need to focus on the show.”
“She’s had job offers before.”
“She wanted to date.” So, Hannah was right.
“And?”
“Your mom was the love of my life. I can’t replace her any more than you can replace Teri.”
“You know what? I’m exhausted. I’m going home.”
“I want to talk to you about—”
“Not tonight.” Liz forced herself to drive home instead of to Carmel. What could she say to Jac in the face of her aloofness? Would they play Monterey and never see each other again? That’s not what she wanted. After the festival, she’d find a way to restore their friendship.
Inside the condo, she heated leftover pizza and ate without tasting as she curled up on the couch with the TV on. At least the noise was company. She missed Hannah being here. So many things she needed to do and she had no energy for any of them.
The front door opened and Hannah bustled in with flattened moving boxes in her arms. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” She tossed the boxes on the floor and turned on a light. “Are you crying?”
Liz pressed Kleenex to the corners of her eyes. “I miss Jac so much.”
“I know,” Hannah said, sitting next to her.
The Kleenex wilted with the fresh rush of tears. “I’m in love with her. I can’t help it.” The instant she’d seen Jac walk through the door, she’d known.
“You two belong together.” Hannah rubbed her back.
“I always thought I’d be like Grandma and Dad. One love. Mated for life.”
Hannah snorted. “Life isn’t a fairy tale, Lizzie. Love is precious whenever it comes, and you’re a fool if you don’t grab it.”
“Jac came to rehearsal today.”
“Did you tell her how you feel?”
“I’m afraid.” A sob rose up and she gripped Hannah’s hand. “She barely talked to me.”
“You have to give her a reason to talk to you. Tell her. I dare you.”
“I don’t know how to say good-bye to Teri.”
“Cancel your classes tomorrow. We’ll go say good-bye together. Now scoot over.” Hannah took a piece of pizza from her plate and turned the volume up too loud and everything felt right. New, but right.
Liz tightened her fingers around the bouquet of lilies on her lap, thinking back to the last time she was at this cemetery. Numb from grief, she’d walked between her dad and Teri’s mom, pockets stuffed with Kleenex, hoping her legs didn’t collapse under her. Monday it would be a year.
Hannah parked Liz’s convertible beside the curb. Green lawn dotted with oak trees stretched to the boundaries of the cemetery. Vineyards went on from there. Pretty. Peaceful. They’d listened to the CD on the drive to Lodi, and they sat until the last song ended, the one with Teri’s riveting solo.
They walked arm in arm, in the matching sandals they’d bought in Hawaii. The sun was warm on their backs, the sky a cloudless blue. Liz’s heart beat slowly, reverently, as if recognizing where they were. They stood in front of the waist-high black marble headstone.
Teri Denise Carr
Beloved Daughter and Wife
September 3, 1981–September 22, 2013
Kneeling, Liz arranged the flowers in the vase they’d brought, adding water from a bottle.
Hannah kissed her fingers and touched them to the headstone, saying something under her breath. She gave Liz a quick hug. “I’ll be by the car if you need me.”
Liz pulled out the wad of Kleenex from her pocket. She put on Teri’s favorite Giants baseball cap and sat on the grass with her legs tucked under her. A squirrel ran up the trunk of a nearby oak tree, an acorn in its mouth.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t bring myself to come before. I’ve missed you so much. It’s been so hard without you. I thought we’d be together forever.” She picked a stalk of clover and twirled the stem in her fingers.
“The jazz festival is Friday. I got the CD out. It’s getting great reviews. I’m composing again. It’s not our sound, but I love it. You wanted me to go on with my life. I didn’t think I could, but I have.” She rubbed her palm over the prickly blades of grass. “I met a woman in Carmel. I need to tell you about her. Her name’s Jac…” Liz talked and cried for a long time until she’d said it all. With each sentence, the strings that bound her heart to Teri’s loosened. By the end she felt lighter than she had in a long time.
Finally she stood and ran her hand over Teri’s name on the headstone. “I’m in love with Jac. I want a future with her, if she’ll have me. I came to say good-bye, Teri.” She waited for more tears that never came. She took off her ring, put it in her pocket, and walked to the car.
“Hear that?” Hannah asked. “That’s Teri cheering.”
One phase of her life was ending, and it was as it should be. Liz prayed another phase was about to start. She kept her eyes on the road ahead as they drove out of the cemetery, her thoughts on Jac.
“You’re humming,” Hannah said.
Liz pressed her hands to her chest. She was humming a new melody. Would there be a trumpet part in it? She pinched the pendant she never took off. She hoped there would be.
Liz put her hand over her abdomen to calm the nerves dancing in her stomach. She’d pulled into this gravel driveway so many times in the last six months that it felt like home. She was worried about the reception she’d get today in light of Jac’s aloofness on Monday. How did she apologize for taking advantage of her and then ask her to go steady? It was crazy. But…her heart did that wonderful flip-flop and then beat its new rhythm, the rhythm that had Jac in it. She owed her the truth.