To Bring You Back

by Emily Conrad

  “He’d like to know. I think it’d clarify some things for him.”

  Adeline smoothed her fingers over the tattoo. “Like what?”

  Tegan smiled and turned to go. “Just tell him. And enjoy the article.”

  Adeline checked the time. She’d taken a quick lunch, and her next appointment wasn’t for an hour, so she could spare a few more minutes.

  She paged through the magazine until a picture of smoke and lights caught her eye. She pressed the pages flat on the desk. The photo had been taken at a show from behind at least a few rows of fans because silhouettes of heads and hands lined the bottom of the foreground. On stage, Gannon leaned toward the mic, midsong, gripping his guitar. Kyle, the second guitarist who toured with them, and Philip, the new bassist, flanked him. John sat behind the drums, one arm raised with a drumstick in his hand.

  She looked over the other photos. Gannon and John talking, presumably backstage. Gannon and Kyle playing their guitars together. The guys walking down a hall, Gannon followed by Philip and the others.

  So close, yet so far away.

  This might not be the pick-me-up Tegan had intended, but she’d come this far. She lifted the magazine and settled into her chair.

  Gannon Vaughn has the even, steady look of a man who knows what he’s about. The powerhouse behind Awestruck’s vocals and guitar, Vaughn turns everything he touches to platinum—or diamond, now that Awestruck’s album All I Asked has sold over ten million units.

  We caught up with the singer backstage in Pittsburgh, one of 80 stops in Awestruck’s Letting Go world tour.

  TMR: Thanks for taking the time to meet with us. This has been a big year for you. Adding bassist Philip Miller, releasing the new album, the tour.

  GV: This year’s been crazy, but the band is more solid than ever, and that simplifies everything. We’re in a good place, operating and creating from a good place, and grateful for the opportunity our fans give us to do that. Without them, this wouldn’t be possible, so I’m happy to say that I think they’re going to like what’s in store.

  TMR: They already like your latest offering, Letting Go, which has been topping charts since its release. You’ve been quoted saying the album contains your best work to date. What makes this collection different from your past albums?

  GV: You can’t produce your best art when you’re not honest with yourself about who you are. This album came from letting go of pretense and having those honest conversations. But the goal’s always that when people hear Awestruck, the songs won’t be about us anymore. Letting Go is about the fans, what’s going on in their lives, whether the song is about addiction, redemption, the dynamics of relationships.

  TMR: Speaking of relationships, in the past, you’ve stated that what people take for love songs are, in fact, inspired by your faith. You seem to have ventured from this with a couple of tracks on Letting Go in which the lyrics refer to a woman. Can you shed light on the inspiration behind songs like “If I Let Her Go” and “Phoenix”?

  GV: They are love songs. As for the rumors, you mean the actress who claims I have feelings for her.

  TMR: We weren’t going to get that specific.

  GV: I didn’t write “If I Let Her Go” or “Phoenix” for that actress. I’ll give her points for being right about one thing: I do still have feelings for the woman I wrote those for. She knows who she is.

  TMR: Philip Miller wasn’t available when Awestruck started recording for Letting Go, so a quarter of the songs include other bassists, including one name that stands out. Adeline Green, who wrote and recorded the bass line for “Phoenix,” was a part of Awestruck at its inception. What was it like to collaborate with her again?

  GV: She added to the song in ways no one else could’ve, and we were thrilled to work with her again, but the collaboration wasn’t the reunion I wish it’d been. She couldn’t join us in the studio because of other commitments, so the bass line was recorded separately.

  TMR: There is speculation that she provided more than the bass line.

  GV: I know what you’re getting at, and yes, absolutely. Awestruck never would’ve gotten off the ground in the first place if not for her.

  TMR: That isn’t what I was getting at.

  GV: I wish there were more I could tell you.

  TMR: Okay, fair enough. The album offers a lot more than love songs. “One Man Left Behind” deals with grief, anger, and guilt after losing someone to suicide. The ultimate decision to move forward with life seems to be a reluctant one.

  GV: When you lose someone like that, the tragedy changes you. To anyone fighting for their lives against depression, don’t try to fight alone. There’s no shame in needing help. No one can win a war alone.

  TMR: And that’s why Awestruck is donating some of the proceeds from the tour to suicide prevention efforts.

  GV: Yes, we want to help. There is hope. There’s a lot to live for. Jesus loves you and put you on this earth for a purpose. I’m not saying faith results in automatic healing. Mental illness is real, and its consequences can be devastating. If you’re struggling, reach out.

  TMR: That’s an important cause and just one song on an album that’s marked with growth both musically and lyrically for Awestruck. It’s hard to imagine topping this, but you alluded to being excited about what’s in store. What can you tell us about your plans after the tour winds down?

  GV: A lot of the growth is directly related to the time I spent away last summer, where the only professional commitment I had was the band. I don’t mean to be ungrateful to my fans or to the opportunities available to me—I’ve got something special, and I’m grateful for that every day. But for me to continue without losing my bearings and my music, I need to be careful not to let the job take over too much.

  TMR: Is there something specific you plan to cut back on?

  GV: I don’t know yet, but regular time away will be part of my future. That’ll mean hard decisions about commitments aside from Awestruck, but our fans will appreciate that focus when the next album drops. And that’s important to us. The fans make this possible. For them, we need to keep evolving and growing. This is the beginning of a new phase for us, and I’m excited about what’s on the horizon, personally and professionally.

  The din of fans flooding the building hums through the walls, signaling an end to the interview and proving that Vaughn’s fans are as excited as he is about what’s on the horizon.

  Adeline scanned back up to the part where the interviewer had tried to get him to comment on their relationship. The way Gannon had said “Absolutely” before sidestepping was as close as he’d come to publicly admitting the song was about her.

  I do still have feelings for the woman I wrote those for. She knows who she is.

  After reading it again, she stood, paced her cubicle, then plopped back into her seat.

  He’d also said he wished he had more he could say about their relationship. She rubbed her hand over the tattoo. Tegan was right. She needed to tell him about it.

  And about her feelings.

  His comments on taking more time away had to mean he planned to spend more time in Lakeshore, didn’t it? The tour, which had started last month, went all the way through December and into next January, but maybe he could steal a week or two over summer again.

  Maybe, but did she really have to wait that long?

  32

  Two Months Later

  Gannon pulled up the collar of his jacket and tweaked his baseball cap as he stepped over the cords taped to the floor of the elementary school gymnasium. Twenty or thirty rows of metal chairs bustled with movement and conversation between him and the stage. He advanced up the outside aisle. A glance revealed no one he knew in a row about halfway up, so he slid into a seat and watched his program, hoping that by being still, he’d draw less attention.

  The discord of the musicians tuning tempted him to lift his head toward the makeshift orchestra pit, but he couldn’t risk it. Any moment now, the house lights should go do
wn, and he’d be free to look.

  Young, overly loud laughter sounded from the center aisle.

  Olivia had chopped and dyed her hair, and she wore dark eyeliner. Despite the edginess, her oversized flannel looked like it’d been chosen for comfort. He didn’t recognize the others with her, a group of girls about her own age, maybe friends from college. Based on what Adeline had said, Olivia was within a month or two of finishing her freshman year.

  The girls stepped into the row ahead of him, pointing to seats where they’d be a couple of chairs from him. Olivia’s line of sight fell on him. She froze and blinked.

  So much for keeping a low profile. He cringed, but instead of pointing and screaming the way she would’ve last summer, her head swiveled away.

  “I don’t like this spot. How about up there?” She lifted her arm and pointed to seats about as far from him as they could get. “It’s so much closer. I want to see. And hear. Remember last year when the speakers went out?”

  She waited at the end of the row until all her friends exited. When they were on their way to the seats she’d pointed out, she winked and hurried after them.

  Gannon chuckled and fixed his attention back on the program until the lights went out.

  Standing in front of the velvet curtain in the pool of a spotlight, the director talked about the musical and the cast. In the orchestra pit, musicians switched on the lights mounted to their music stands, the glow glinting against their white shirts and the metal of woodwinds and brass.

  And there stood Adeline.

  Only the conductor, the two percussionists, and she with her bass, were on their feet. She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail with soft curls at the ends. Her variation on the dress code of black and white was classy, a silky short sleeve blouse and slim-fitting dress pants, probably paired with flats since she looked as short as ever, especially next to her instrument. Her expression was serious, but she didn’t fidget. She was in the zone, ready to work, but not nervous.

  He could applaud already.

  The conductor lifted his hands and guided the orchestra into the first piece. Gannon heard nothing but the bass line and didn’t glance at the stage when the curtain opened and the actors made their entrance.

  Adeline was performing again, all in.

  In many ways, the last eight months had been the longest of his career. Because Adeline wanted to be friends while she pursued other things, he’d known they couldn’t spend hours and hours talking. Their conversations were semi-regular but never as deep as he’d like.

  The ache to discuss their relationship and future grew no matter how he tried to curb it. He’d kept busy recording the new album, taping Audition Room, getting to know Miller, writing new music, the tour. The time had passed, but he was growing too tired to keep the pace much longer.

  It’d gotten bad, this friend act. So many times he’d nearly ended one of their calls with an “I love you.” Wherever he went, he knew how many hours it would take to get to her—how many flights, how long each would last, how far he’d have to drive.

  He regularly played the recording of Adeline’s bass line for “Phoenix.” Once John discovered that, he’d started blaming any off day Gannon had on lovesickness, and both John and Miller had been laughing at Gannon’s increasingly good mood the closer the calendar got to this trip.

  “Why haven’t you married this girl yet?” Miller asked as they boarded a plane for the US, the Asian leg of the tour over.

  John had smirked. “She’s just not that into him.”

  Was that true? When they’d said goodbye in August, he’d expected her to invite him back into her life long before this, but here he was, just another face in the crowd.

  Now, he understood how his fans felt.

  He’d promised to let her break his heart one more time, and for all he knew, she would when they saw each other. She’d say he’d respected her request for space so long and so well that she’d assumed they’d both moved on. She’d introduce her new boyfriend, who would’ve attended opening night of the musical.

  Okay. Not a boyfriend. That would’ve come up.

  But it’d been months.

  A couple of weeks ago, she’d told him she missed him at the end of one of their calls. A first. He hoped it meant she missed him like he missed her, but he hadn’t pressed to clarify in any of their conversations since. He wanted to have the discussion in person, especially given he’d already planned this trip.

  Tonight, he’d find out what she’d meant. If she remained stuck on the idea of being friends, she’d never get unstuck from it. He’d have to move on.

  He didn’t want to. So he’d boarded that plane in Beijing, then another plane. And another. And then he’d gotten in a rental car. On arriving in town, he’d cleaned up at the hotel. Now, here he was, absolutely spent and not sure how she’d receive him, if he should even let her know he’d come or if she’d see this as an intrusion on a process she’d asked to complete without him.

  All he knew was that listening to her play felt more like rest than anything he’d experienced in a long, long time.

  Adeline rolled the bass into the classroom across from the gymnasium. The case with wheels had been one of the best investments she’d made in the last year. She maneuvered around Mandy, the cellist, to fit her instrument into a corner.

  Jessica cleaned her flute at a nearby desk. “Good job tonight.”

  “You too.” Adeline couldn’t stop grinning. The three hours had flown by. She’d wondered if the show would tire her. They’d practiced so much that she’d feared the music might start to bore her. Instead, she felt nothing but energy.

  The last time she’d felt this way had been after performing with John, Gannon, and Fitz in high school. They’d made a habit of going to an all-night pancake house after shows. Up until tonight, she’d thought that had been teenage energy at work, but now she understood it as something else. If Lakeshore had an all-night restaurant, she’d get a group together. Maybe she could talk Tegan into staying up to make a batch of pancakes at home.

  “Addie, Addie, Addie.” Olivia dodged the last row of desks and clasped her arms. “You’re never going to guess who’s here. Did you know?”

  Only one person would elicit this excitement from Olivia.

  Gannon had come?

  She’d mentioned the musical, but he’d last called from China. He hadn’t breathed a word about seeing her. She couldn’t blame him—he’d been sticking to the relationship she’d requested last fall. But she was ready for more.

  So ready.

  Maybe he’d lost interest, but Tegan assured her he wouldn’t keep in touch if that were true.

  Finally, she’d taken matters into her own hands. Told him she missed him. A lot. Waited to see how he’d respond.

  “I miss you too.” He replied quickly with warm relief, as if he’d been waiting to tell her.

  They’d been ending their calls that way ever since, but nothing more had come of it.

  Or so she’d thought.

  Now he was here.

  Olivia’s eyes got wide and worried, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “You didn’t know.”

  Adeline’s stomach churned, but it was a little late to be nervous now. He’d already seen her perform. He’d sat through a three-hour, small-town rendition of a Broadway musical to hear her. “Where is he now?”

  Olivia lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know where he went for intermission, and he was gone before the lights came back on at the end.”

  “But you talked to him? You’re sure it’s him?”

  “I didn’t talk to him, but I spent a whole summer stalking him. I’m sure.”

  “Okay. Well.” She glanced at the bass. It was safely stored, and nothing kept her except how little she trusted her legs. She linked her arm with Olivia’s, and they left the classroom together.

  A rolling bulletin board kept attendees from wandering into the area reserved for musicians, cast, and crew. Gannon would’ve had no qualms a
bout sidestepping such a thing, but the hall was empty and gray, except for an eye-level line of children’s artwork. Voices carried, audience members lingering outside the gymnasium to chat. She and Olivia stepped into the crowd.

  “There she is!” Tegan hustled up and threw her arms around her. “Great job! I’m so proud of you!”

  Drew moved in behind Tegan, blocking Adeline’s view of the rest of the lobby. “That was excellent.”

  As Tegan released her, Drew moved in for a hug too.

  Olivia weaved impatiently, scanning for Gannon.

  Adeline stepped back from Drew. “Thanks, you two. I appreciate you coming.”

  “Of course.” Tegan tweaked her elbow and took a half step toward the door. “Shall we?”

  Olivia looked about to burst as she tagged along through the doors and into the night. Cool air washed Adeline’s flushed face and bare arms, welcome relief. The gym had grown too warm toward the end of the show, and Olivia’s news had added a few more degrees of anticipation and nerves.

  Olivia made no effort to be discrete about looking to either side of the door and then, when there was no Gannon, along the side of the building. Unless he’d hidden in a recessed alcove, he wasn’t there.

  It’d been a little too good to be true, anyway. Adeline gave her a smile. “It’s okay, Olivia.”

  “But I’m sure.”

  Wishful thinking could go a long way toward a false sighting. Adeline would know. “It’s all right. He’s on tour, and I wasn’t expecting him. Have a good one, okay? Thanks for coming.”

  She joined Tegan and Drew on the sidewalk, and they started on foot toward Adeline and Tegan’s house.

  Technically, only Adeline owned it, though. Tegan only rented, and she was there less and less in favor of time with Drew. They’d officially call it dating one of these days. If these two got married, Tegan would move out and Adeline would either have to live alone or find a new roommate. Neither option appealed, but even without a roommate, at least she wouldn’t be completely alone. She’d adopted Bruce, and he followed her from room to room. Also, with the job at the university, she could afford the mortgage by herself.