I visited my parents before driving to Iris Meadows. Ominous clouds shroud the sunset, and I don’t expect Harriet to be awake when I step inside. My weary heart skips a beat when I find her sitting cross-legged on the living room floor,fingers plucking the strings of her guitar, notepad filled with her loopy scrawl at her feet.
Her smile is a balm to the soul.
“Hey.” She sets down her guitar. “You’re home.”
How I wish I was. It’s not that I feel out of place staying at the cottage—quite the opposite—but this isn’tmy home.Perhaps one day, if my sessions with Kevin continue leading me in the right direction, it could be.
“And you’re awake.” I kneel in front of her. “Working on a new song?”
She ripples her fingers over the strings, creating a sharp tune. “I’m done now. You’ve got a long shift tomorrow, so you probably want to get some sleep.”
Minutes ago, I did, needing to silence the disturbance between my ears, but suddenly, all I crave is the smooth lilt of her voice.
I settle against the sofa, stretching my legs out. “Don’t stop. Sing for me.”
She’s never shy when it comes to performing, and my request brightens her beautiful smile. “Any requests?”
“The first song you performed at the distillery when we met up with the girls.”
She blushes. “Why that one?”
The answer is simple. “Because it’s when I knew fighting my feelings for you was a losing battle. It was the first time I allowed myself to picture a different future for myself, even though it felt light years away.”
She inhales slowly. “And now, it isn’t. It’s real.”
My eyes fall to my fisted hands. The man I was then wouldn’t recognize the man I am today. I hate how my mind meanders from what’s sitting right in front of me, but my fears are still very real, and this afternoon reopened old scars, leaving me raw and exposed.
Harriet notes the shift in my mood. “Did something happen at therapy?”
“Progress, but it’s taken it out of me today. I’m okay, though. I promise.” She doesn’t believe me at first. “Please sing for me, sweetheart. Help quiet the noise.”
The corners of her crystal blues crease with a sad smile. “Close your eyes. Rest.”
I follow her instructions and tilt my head back to the ceiling.
The lyrics float around me, caressing my skin. I picture myself walking through a field of pampas grass, bees buzzing, hummingbirds chirping, Harriet’s hand firmly in mine.
Someday, it won’t be a picturesque fabrication, and the once impossible future I’ve fought for will be reality. For now, all I have to do is survive the month, put April behind me and move forward.
FIFTY-TWO
HARRIET
THIRTY-ONE WEEKS PREGNANT
I arriveat the house where I’m due to perform my last freelance gig before the baby arrives. The couple booked me to sing at their Ruby Anniversary luncheon. It’s a beautiful spring afternoon, not too hot that I’ll be sweltering under the baking sun. The house is a fancy Greek revival, with pristine lawns and huge columns that tower above me as I knock on the front door.
A brunette woman answers the door, clipboard in hand, looking flustered. “You’re the singer?”
She doesn’t wait for my response before she spins on her heel, giving me no choice but to waddle after her as she disappears inside. I left my equipment in the car, hoping there’d be some muscle here to help bring it in.
I follow who I presume is Edna, the events coordinator, into the backyard, where tables are set up for brunch and a small stage is being erected in front of a large rose bush.
“This is where you’ll perform. Two thirty-minute sets,right?” She turns to look at me and blanches at my swollen belly. “You’re pregnant.”
I gasp. “Oh my god, am I?”
My joke goes down like a lead balloon. Tough crowd.
