He grinned. “I can imagine.”
“It wasn’t the teacher’s fault. I was so shy, I always held back and never let her hear my best. So Aunt Dahlia agreed to sing but asked to let me sing a duet with her. Then she taught me to use the gift the Lord gave me. I got to perform, and I got to go with her and sing at her annual Christmas tours the next year. But I’ve lived in her shadow ever since, feeling second-best to her and to the girl who sang the solo.”
“I hope you don’t think Miss Dahlia is more talented than you.”
Ariel faced him on the piano bench, trying to determine whether he meant that or just wanted to make her feel better. “My aunt is more talented than everybody.”
“That’s true, with one exception.”
She turned away. “Please don’t say things that aren’t true just because you think I want to hear them.”
“Never. You have everything it takes to succeed in this business. When you’re Miss Dahlia’s age, you’ll be more successful than she is.”
If Ariel could believe that, she’d record another demo today.
She drew a deep breath, looked him in the eyes. “I made a record.”
Caleb met her gaze. “Solo?”
“Nobody knows except our manager and Ned Overton, our producer. I didn’t even tell the musicians. It bombed.”
“How could I not have known you released a record? The media must have been all over it.”
“I didn’t say I sold a record. I made a record, and Ned said no thanks.”
Caleb dropped his gaze to the floor for a moment. “I’m sorry. Did he say why?”
“He liked the record and thinks we have a great band—when we play together. But Ariel Sullivan doesn’t bring anything to the table that Miss Dahlia and Ariel don’t already give him.”
Or so he’d said.
But now, in this room, this parlor, the past melding with the present, she somehow felt safe enough, accepted enough to face the disappointment that drilled deeper than a mere career failure.
The man sitting next to her had a lot to do with her comfort here too. For the first time, Ariel wanted to tell him her true struggle. She shifted on the bench to gauge his reaction. “Looking back, I realize Ned was right. I bring nothing fresh to the table.”
“No, it was just a career mistake, not an artistic one. It won’t hurt your future success.” He looked straight into her eyes. “I’m sorry about the rejection and the way it affected you. It’s a hazard of the trade.”
“Caleb, when Dani told me she was arranging festivals all year to increase tourism and save the island, I came up with the idea of this concert, and I convinced Aunt Dahlia to spend a month here before the gig.” In the comfortable silence, she gave thanks that the Lord had orchestrated this time. “I did it because I thought here, on this island where I was born, I could discover whether or not I can make it in the music biz on my own.”
His close presence and comfortable silence felt like a gift from the Lord. In an industry of sound, clatter, sometimes downright racket, peaceful silence was rare. “I appreciate you, Caleb. A musician who creates sound for a living yet values the quiet of a meaningful moment with a friend, of hearing nothing but a mockingbird’s song outside the window and hoofbeats in the street clopping past the inn, is rare.”
“Jesus comes to us in the silence.” His voice, whisper-low, speaking truth she knew but sometimes forgot, seemed to usher in that heavenly Presence she’d learned to love as a child. The sense of the Savior she knew and loved making Himself and His love known in ways intangible took her by surprise, as it oftendid. Let her know He had not forgotten her. That He’d been there with her, during the worst of times, sitting with her and watching with her in her deepest pain.
She closed her eyes and basked in that Presence until it lifted a little.
“Thank you, Caleb.”
He wrapped his warm fingers around her hand. She wished for more. For reassurance of her talent, but not from Caleb. From the Lord.
But for now, she’d take the Presence and leave the rest to Him.
Chapter Eight
What if this wasn’t such a great idea?
Minutes later, Caleb stood at the door of room eight, nearest the parlor, and handed the keys to Ariel. “You open it. I’m afraid of what we’ll find.”
“We should have asked Michelle whether she cleaned the guest rooms regularly along with the parlor.” Ariel gazed down at the key ring in her hand and selected an unmarked key, inserted it into the antique lock, and turned.
