CHAPTER29
Ian went straight to Amelia’s, where he showered and packed in record time. Everything should have been by rote, the standard preparations for just another journey, another city, another two performances. He didn’t have the right clothes, of course. But suiting up for the gigs would be simple enough in Miami. Ian made a mental note to contact Danny or Arthur, ask what they would be wearing that second evening. It was a decision that should have been made by Connor, of course. No matter what Arthur might say, the man’s emotional distance worried Ian. A lot.
As he descended the ridge and drove into town, Ian felt himself slowly winding down. Like a spinning top left to waver and fall. During the session, he’d had no real idea about how much he was giving, the energy required to lead the group. For the first time in his life, he had not merely performed. He had directed. Kept the crew focused and moving forward. Now, though, all the resulting tension drained away, leaving him adrift. He parked in the public lot a couple of blocks from the diner and sat there.
The car was filled with sunlight and a gentle drifting wind. He could still feel the music resonating inside him. He wondered if this was how it would be from now on. No fire, but instead a sense of quiet satisfaction. It left him feeling both sad and resigned, that he had lost something he had never fully appreciated. How often did someone stop and be thankful because they had hands? That was how it felt now. A part was gone, and yet he was finding a way to make peace with the new reality.
The Honda’s seats were creased and wrinkled with years of use, yet as perfectly clean as Amelia’s little apartment. And suddenly their former owner was seated in the seat next to him. A presence as gentle as the breeze.
He spoke the words aloud, addressing the woman who was no more. “I’ve had a good day.”
Then she was gone. Ian patted the empty seat, rolled up the windows, and walked the street. Happy with the music that accompanied him. And the prospect of a new life taking hold, one that extended beyond Miami and the troubles he had left behind in Annapolis.
He entered the diner, saw he was the first to have arrived, and chose a booth by the rear wall. As Ian seated himself, he had the distinct impression this was why Amelia had wanted him to visit Miramar. What she meant by the midnight harbor. Sheltered in a way that left him able to talk about a new compass heading. Once the storms faded, and he was ready to get on with life.
He ordered a coffee and savored the weightless feeling. Everything about this town seemed incredibly fresh. A few of the other patrons looked his way and complimented him on the performance. Then they went back to their own meals and conversations. He wondered if such low-key respect for a person’s privacy was a trait common to small-town California.
When they entered the diner, Graham came first. Then Kari, with Rafi in the rear. Ian could see Kari was pale, her gaze scattered. He liked how the two friends were there to support her, a natural acceptance of her fragile state. And that was definitely the way to describe her today. Kari appeared scarcely connected to the diner’s floor.
He rose and kissed her cheek and settled back down. Rafi slid in beside him; Kari directly across; Graham beside her. The waitress appeared, and they ordered. Ian found himself recalling days spent with Amelia in the Philadelphia hospital, seated on uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area, while her partner went through another test or treatment. He had seen patients whose state resembled Kari’s, who were not fully connected to the material world. But there was a difference to this lovely young woman, an illumination that shone upon the three of them. The strain of exhaustion was evident, as well. But it could not extinguish this ethereal glow. Ian realized he was sensing the woman’s creative fire. So strong, it actually seemed visible.
When the waitress departed, Kari told him, “I was having a really nice day. Until these two awful men dragged me away.”
“And took you shopping,” Ian supplied. “Which you hate.”
“Let’s not forget why this was happening,” she said.
“The gala. Miami.”
“Double yuck.”
Ian wanted to tell her it was going to be okay. Wishing it was within his power to make it all fine. In the end, he decided to remain silent.
Graham cleared his throat and addressed Ian, “Changing the subject. I really must apologize.”
“Sorry, I don’t follow,” Ian said. “Apologize for what?”
Kari said, “Told you.”
Graham said, “For being an opinionated busybody.”
Rafi offered, “He’s talking about last night.”
Ian took his time, studying these two men. He had the impression they had done their best to dress down, blend in with the small-town California vibe. But their knit shirts and gabardine trousers and sockless loafers and gold watches and perfect hair all spoke of a distinctly different world. Graham was the sharper edged of the two; Ian had to assume he was the one who negotiated and contracted and counted. Rafi was smoother and sleeker. But equally intelligent. And clearly enjoying Graham’s discomfort.
Ian said, “Graham, you told me exactly what I needed to hear.”
Kari nudged Graham. “See?”
Ian went on, “Did you hear how we played?”
Graham nodded. “It was wonderful.”
Ian described going back upstairs and doing what Graham had advised. Bringing the group together in the process. “So, thank you.”
Graham said to Kari, “Okay. So you were right.”
“Of course I was.”
