Caleb blew out a breath. “My granddad. He found out I opened the third floor to guests without consulting him.”
“It made him mad?”
“Shouting mad. Every guest in the hotel probably heard him.” He hesitated. “I wish he’d stop. It hurts business.”
You mean it hurts your heart.“I’ve heard some people have a personality change after a stroke.”
“He and I have never harmonized.” Caleb kept his gaze averted. “He’s always been a harsh man.”
Oh.“I’m sorry. Families aren’t always easy to navigate.”
“You mean Miss Dahlia?”
“No, she’s a dream. So self-controlled. Never a cross word or awkward moment.” Should she tell him the rest? The part of their family dynamics that no one else ever saw? Probably not, but if she talked about it, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much anymore.
Quickly, before she could change her mind…
“I struggle more with relationships in my immediate family.”
“I remember Ethan and Charlotte from school. They weren’t close friends, but they seemed nice.”
“Yes, but we haven’t spent much time together since I left the island at age ten. Our lives are so different, with Ethan on the farm and Charlotte in New York. I don’t know anything about farming and even less about Charlotte’s ‘soil and land resources,’ whatever that is.”
He looked up, his deep-brown eyes warm. “Sounds as if you’d like to have more of a relationship with them.”
“I would. But seeing each other two or three times a year doesn’t make it easy. When Aunt Dahlia and I aren’t touring, we’re in Nashville, learning new songs and recording. Mama and Daddy come to our Midwest concerts every year, if we schedule them close enough to northern Michigan.”
Caleb leaned nearer, his gaze never breaking.
It felt safe to tell him more.
“Aunt Dahlia decided to hang with your uncle this afternoon, so I rented a bike and rode out to the farm for lunch. I timed the visit wrong, because my nephew Sam’s new behavioral problems distracted us all so much, we couldn’t say more than a few words.” She looked toward the tall spruces dividing the yard from the street, unsure how to keep the hurt from her eyes. “Mama wouldn’t let me help with the meal, as always, and Daddy seemed sullen. It’s not like him.”
“Sounds like an awkward lunch.”
She nodded. “Mama says Daddy and Ethan have started working the farm again physically, but emotionally and mentally, he’s retired. Apparently, he spends every mealtime and evening paging through travel magazines.”
“He read while your family ate together?”
The way he said it made her realize how dysfunctional they’d become. At least, when Ariel came around. A far cry from the “perfect” family the rest of her Sullivan relatives thought they had. “I think they simply don’t know what to do with me.”
Caleb sat with her in silence, nearly motionless. Quietly comforting her, allowing her time to think and pray. Somehow, he seemed to know exactly what she needed. Time. Acceptance. Silent support.
Finally, at exactly the right moment, he laid his hand on hers, where it rested on the arm of the rocker. “I heard you playing as I walked across the lawn. What was that song?”
“Just a prayer song.”
“I like to sing prayers too. Care if I play along?”
After he’d tuned, Ariel again strummed the chords she’d played earlier. For a few moments, he watched the placement of her fingers on the fretboard, clearly discerning her key and chord progression. Then he finger-picked his strings along with her.
Maintaining the beat and tempo, she sang again the lyrics of just moments before. The second time around, he sang a tight bass harmony.
Then Ariel came to an abrupt stop.
Caleb’s head jerked up, his eyes wide. “Why’d you quit?”
She laughed at his intensity. “That’s all I got.”
