Ellie notices me watching him. “That’s Robert,” she says, smiling fondly. “You missed him yesterday.”
“Husband?” The last I remembered, Ellie was married to a man named Edward. He’d occasionally pal around with the neighborhood kids, tossing the football back and forth.
Ellie shakes her head and smiles softly. “Partner.”
I nod in understanding as she brings over a glass of iced tea with fresh peaches floating near the top.
“Sit, sit, tell me what you’ve been up to.” Ellie gestures to the chair in front of me.
I am self-conscious but I sit anyway. “First, thank you for letting me stay here so last minute. I was sorry to hear about Eddie when Liam told me,” I say softly.
“Thank you, sweet boy. And you are always welcome here.” Ellie pats my hand. “But tell me all about you and Nashville! I can’t wait to see you and Melanie perform.”
I pale at the mention of her name and take a sip of the tea, but Ellie doesn’t notice.
“It’s good… The industry is a rollercoaster. I was happy for a change of scenery,” I tell her. I’m hoping if I keep things vague, she won’t ask too many questions.
“Get yourself in trouble down there, did you?” Ellie gives me a pointed look.
I let out a smirk. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Ellie?”
Ellie tilts her head, her eyes filled with mischief. “Maybe. But I’m glad you’re back, even if it’s just for a short while. I sure loved your parents. And Cara.”
“I was thinking about hanging around a little longer, but now I don’t know,” I admit with a sigh.
“Something you want to talk about?” Ellie quirks an eyebrow at me.
I laugh, taking another sip of tea. “Why do I have a feeling this is what you’re best at?”
Ellie holds up her hands. “I am who I am.”
So I do. Everything comes out in a rush—Nashville, the crash, the breakups. The whole messy spiral. How coming here felt like a chance to find something that’d been missing for a long time, and how it finally felt within reach with Melanie. Then comes the hardest part—the letter, the baby—and a quiet plea for Ellie to keep it between us.
Ellie’s face crumples.
“Oh, my heart just aches for both of you. That was a terrible time for all of us but you two—gosh. It would have just been nice if you could grieve together.” She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. I don’t realize until just this moment how much I have missed my own mother, her comfort, her nurturing. But so much of that disappeared with Cara’s passing. My mother became stoic—hardened by life’s heartbreak.
Before I can stop it, a sob bursts through my tough exterior and Ellie moves closer, putting an arm around me, patting my back.
“There, there, my dear boy,” she soothes. “Everything will be all right.”
And at this moment, for some reason, I believe her.
35
MELANIE
By the time Monday rolls around, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that after the concert, Josh and I may just go our separate ways. He sent me the finished song for Cara yesterday and with nothing else to do once my dad left, I worked on it all day. I asked him what he wanted the set list to be and the only thing he replied was a photo of the song list in his scribbled handwriting. A total of seven songs. Once I got Cara’s song down, I worked through the others, rehearsing the harmonies I’d written until my voice was scratchy and my fingers bled.
I thought about calling out of work today and letting myself be consumed by the weight of it all, but as I’ve learned many times throughout these forty-two years, falling apart does nothing to help anyone. Instead, I take a shower, blow dry my hair and carefully apply my makeup—my armor for the day. There will be time to fall apart later, but before work or at work is not the time. Besides, I’m used to life alone. I’ve been alone way more than not, and I know that this sadness, this heaviness, will pass.
But then, there is a small, optimistic part of me that thinks, maybe Josh will come around. That he might realize what we have. After all, I’ve had twenty-five years to heal from the loss of our baby. He’s had two days. I have to give him time. I don’t text him, no matter how much I want to beg that he talk to me. No matter how much waking up in my empty bed hurts. He’s only been gone for two nights, and I can’t believe I ever lived without him. But the ball is in his court. I can’t make him forgive me, so I steel myself for a future without him.
I walk to work, despite the heat, smiling politely at people as I pass by. Other store owners are opening up, writing on chalkboard signs, and cleaning windows. They wave at me, big smiles on their faces, completely unaware of the turmoil swirling inside me.
“Hey, Melanie!” Joyce, the coffee shop owner, calls to me. “I can’t wait to see you sing this weekend!”
My chest tightens, and I have to swallow the lump that rises in my throat. I wave back, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. “Thanks, Joyce,” I say, picking up my pace before she can carry the conversation any further.
