“Thanks, Win.” Jenny pushes her hair out of her face and sighs. “I never used to care about any of this stuff. I must be hormonal or something.”
“Neither did I,” I say honestly. “Until I met Jonah. I never really thought I’d end up with anyone. Mostly because of my parents, but still.” I shrug.
Candice keeps her mouth shut, though a quick glance at her face tells me that she’s dying to say something. Probably about Beau. But Jenny clearly either isn’t ready for what he’s offering or doesn’t want it at all, for some reason.
Jonah strides over to us, a beer in his hand.
“We’re up next, Winnie. Are you ready to blow them away?”
I give Jonah a salute and we walk hand in hand towards the stage. The other performer is putting away their guitar, and Jonah grabs his from the side and starts setting up. I perch on one of the stools and try to take even, deep breaths. Despite the fact that I’ve been in front of much larger crowds than this one, it’s been a long time since I actually wanted to be up on stage—since the performance actually mattered to me.
Jonah settles into the seat next to me, and gives me a smile. We run through our set list one final time, and then he starts strumming. The crowd quiets down and their eyes snap to us. Everyone in Star Mountain knows that Jonah is talented and worth paying attention to, and I’m sure they’re wondering why I’m up here too.
My voice is raw and wavering on the first note, and I mentally kick myself. I shouldn’t have had anything to drink and I should have warmed up. I get through the first verse alright, but I don’t sound my best. I clasp my hands in my lap and try to look anywhere but out at the crowd.
I end up looking at Jonah, and what I find on his face steadies me. He’s completely calm, his eyes soulful and serious as always. Just looking at him makes me feel a bit stronger. As we enter thechorus, he leans into the mic we’re sharing and holds my gaze. I stop paying attention to the crowd entirely, and just focus on him and the music we’re creating together.
My voice gets stronger and clearer, and I can tell that not only am I hitting every note, I sound good. Jonah lets me take the next verse on my own and I spare a glance at the crowd. They’re captivated.
Jonah joins me once more to finish out the song, and before he even strums the last chord, the crowd goes wild, clapping and whistling. I smile, and it’s not a pageant queen smile, but a real one. When the noise dies down, we dive into the next song, and I can tell that the music happening right now is pure magic.
From there, we’re on a roll, each song somehow going better than the last, and the crowd continues to love us. More importantly, I feel like this is something Jonah and I are going to both be proud of. And I can’t wait to record vocals for the song on his album.
It’s over far too soon, and we finish our fourth song to demands for an encore from the crowd. Jonah glances over at Ronda and she nods, letting us know that it’s up to us.
“What should we do?” I whisper in his ear, hoping the mic doesn’t pick any sound up.
“ ‘Over the Rainbow?’ It’s the one we’ve practiced the most. But only if you want to.”
“Definitely. But let’s add our own spin to it, okay? I want you with me for the whole thing.”
Jonah nods, and then starts playing the opening chords. This time, I don’t channel Judy Garland or anyone else. Just Winnie, and just Jonah. And for the first time, the song doesn’t make me sad. It doesn’t fill me with longing and painful hope for a better life.
Because I’m already here. I’m already happy.
We sing the final lines, and as the crowd starts to cheer, Jonah and I can do nothing but smile at one another. Eventually, the clapping stops and people return to their drinks. I stand up, and Jonah starts packing up his guitar. I scan the bar, looking for Candice and Jenny.
A flash of blonde hair and a tan handbag catch my eye. I know that color blonde. And that bag. It’s the same one my mother has. I search for the woman again, but whoever she is, she’s gone. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I force myself to breathe. It’s not my mother. It can’t be. There’s no way she could have known I was planning on singing tonight. It’s not like we advertised it. And she has no reason to be here—the lawsuit is done.
It’s just a coincidence. Just a woman with the same hair and the same bag as her. Nothing to worry about. Jonah is talking to Ronda, and I feel shaken up enough that I head to the bathroom rather than back to the bar. I need a few moments to myself, to gather my thoughts and calm down.
The bathroom is empty, thankfully, and I check that my hair and makeup are both still okay, and adjust my dress around my hips. I flex my feet in my heels. They’re starting to ache, and I’ll be happy when Jonah and I are back home, cuddled up together on the couch.
I give myself one last look in the mirror, and then I leave. A blast of frigid air hits me—someone must have left the back door open. Maybe Ronda thought it was getting stuffy inside. I walk past the open doorway, head held high. And then someone grabs me by the arm and pulls me out into the night.
It only takes one whiff of their cologne for me to know who it is.
41
WINNIE
I’m hurledout into the cold air, and then my father releases his grip on my arm. I can already tell it’s going to bruise.
He looks exactly the same—dark hair and five o’clock shadow, khakis and sneakers, a sheepish expression on his face. Like he doesn’t quite know how he ended up in the situation he’s in, and he bears absolutely no responsibility for it. My mother hasn’t changed a bit either. She’s still whip thin and blonde, her tan, designer purse under one arm, her face set into harsh, unforgiving lines.
“I knew we’d find you here, as soon as I saw that this trashy bar was having an open mic night. You never could stay away from the stage for too long, Winsome. You’re too vain,” she bites out, giving me a nasty smile.
Not true. I’m not like that at all,I tell myself. But her words burn anyway, just like they always have.
