Heart & Soul: A Guitar Girl Contemporary Inspirational Romance (A Guitar Girl Romance Book 3)

by Hope Franke

  The door swung open without an introductory knock and Eva hobbled in, dropping her book bag on the floor before flopping on her bed. She always came home with the same dramatic flair. Drop the bag, sigh, flop on the bed.

  Gabriele eyed her over her guitar. “Bad day?”

  It was an unfair question. Eva could never have a day as bad as the one Gabriele relived every single moment. Even Eva’s accident from five and a half years earlier couldn’t compare to this. Death was so final.

  She moaned. “Too much homework.”

  “Yeah, getting an education is a hardship.”

  Eva cut her a look. “I’m not ungrateful. It’s just hard sometimes.” She pushed herself up to a sitting position and leaned against her larger pillows along the wall. She tilted her head towards Gabriele. “Sebastian and I are going to hang out at Blue Note tonight. Do you want to come?”

  “No. I don’t want to be your third wheel.” Gabriele couldn’t believe Eva would ask. They were a couple. She was no longer a couple.

  Eva blinked hard. “You wouldn’t be our third wheel. I just thought you’d like to get out of the flat.” She pulled out her phone and started texting someone. Probably Sebastian or one of her friends from the university. Her mouth pulled up in a smile at whatever she was reading and Gabriele was forgotten.

  Gabriele huffed. How had this happened? Last year Eva was the girl who never left her room, who moped about without any friends, who didn’t have a boyfriend or a life.

  Now it was Gabriele in that position and Eva was the happy, outgoing one. The world was upside down, inside out, and every shade of blue.

  Gabriele leaned back and covered her face with a pillow. It was all so impossible, so aggravating, so infuriating. If Eva wasn’t in the room, she would scream.

  GABRIELE’S EYES sprung open at 06:30. She dreamed of Lennon in the night, a common occurrence, only this time Callum was present, too. At times they were the same person. Her make-out dreams with Lennon were sometimes sweet, sometimes intense, and always heartbreaking when her eyes flitted open and the awful truth washed over her and she found herself in bed alone.

  But last night—she groaned and whispered an apology—her kissing session had started out with Lennon, but then he morphed into his brother, his body no longer lean, but built, his hair no longer long, but combed back and short over his ears.

  The lips were the same.

  Oh, God. She felt like such a traitor, a cheat.

  It was only a dream, but it felt so real, like she had actually made out with Callum Jones, aka Callum Leatherby.

  Ack.

  She had to get out of the cottage and fast. No way did she want to see Callum now. Not only did she not want to be bodily removed from the country against her will, she was also mortified that she might blush.

  Gabriele changed into her yoga pants, a sports bra and T-shirt, and a windbreaker. What she needed was a mind-cleansing jog along the promenade and then a coffee. She approached the old, brick, A-frame building at the base of the promenade and paused to read the sign. What was now a boat club was once the town mill. The tide had been harnessed to turn the wheel that ground the grain.

  Gabriele broke into an easy run and breathed deeply the saltine air. She focused on the beauty that surrounded her—the pink glow of the sunrise on the sea, the squawking of seabirds, the soothing rhythm of the channel waves. She assumed the promenade went somewhere since she’d watched people walk out of sight and not return back the way they came. She was right. It gave way to an adjoining neighborhood. She followed the road along the pond back to the main road where she took a right turn back into town. The whole time she worked to push the dream out of her mind, but it was insistent on replaying. She never kissed Callum Jones. It was only a dream. And one that would never become a reality. Callum was arrogant and heartless.

  He was probably watching her cottage right now, rubbing his palms together in anticipation of kicking her out of town. She didn’t understand why he was so determined to be rid of her. Why he didn’t like her.

  It didn’t matter. She didn’t like him either. She smirked, wishing she could see his face when he discovered she went AWOL again. She had no doubt that Callum would search for her when he discovered she was missing. The question was why? Why did Callum want her gone so badly? What was the big mystery?

  Gabriele was bound and determined to get to the bottom of things, one way or another, and she didn’t care how long it took. She wasn’t leaving until she knew everything there was to know about her deceased husband, if it meant turning over every single rock in town to do it.

  She entered the town center on the opposite side of the meridian where she usually did, turned toward the Greenhouse Cafe shop.

  It was set back from the road and looked more like a little brick church with a steep roof and a steeple. The gate opened to a long, narrow area with outdoor seating, round green tables and chairs with colourful, welcoming table covers.

  Gabriele approached cautiously and peeked through the windows, scanning the customers to make sure Callum wasn’t there already looking for her.

  Coast was clear. Gabriele entered and stood in queue, keeping her head low. She wasn’t quite sure what she was worried about. It wasn’t like Callum would make a scene in public, dragging her out like some cave woman, right? In fact, she had yet to see him actually in public. Whenever she had spotted him, he was always loitering with a cap and glasses on like he didn’t want to be recognized.

  What or whom was he hiding from?

  She let out a breath. At least that meant if she wanted to stay clear of Callum, all she had to do was stay in town.

  Not something she could do one hundred percent of the time, and living right next door to him was a definite liability.

  Maybe she should buy a bat? Callum looked strong and fit and she doubted she’d have a chance beating him back physically. Perhaps pepper spray? She wondered where she could buy that in a quaint, family-friendly, tourist destination like Emsworth?

  Gabriele’s attention was attracted by the bell chiming over the door. She glanced over her shoulder and stiffened at the sight of the blond girl who entered. Clover Swift. Gabriele stared straight ahead, eyes wide and mind reeling. Less than a metre away was the girl who’d known Lennon Smith as Mick Leatherby. She’d been his girlfriend for five years, whereas Gabriele had only been with him for a total of fifteen months.

  She pretended to drop something so she could swivel slightly and have another look. Clover Swift was pretty. She had a friendly face, already smiling and waving at people she knew seated at a table in the corner. They waved back with matching smiles, so it was obvious that she was well-liked.

  Why would Lennon leave a girl like that? And why did he feel like he couldn’t tell Gabriele about her?

  Gabriele ordered a bottle of water and a cup of coffee, extra foam. She grabbed an empty table by the door and watched Clover from behind, fixated. The way she tucked her short, blond locks behind her ears, her weight on her right leg, left hip up. She ordered tea—a true Brit—with a lovely accent that was so much like Lennon’s it hurt Gabriele to listen.

  Gabriele ducked her head low as Clover left the shop. Without thinking it through, Gabriele jumped up after her. She walked quickly along the pavement until she reached Clover, speeding up a little more to pass her, and then purposefully knocking into her right arm, causing her tea to slosh and spill.

  “I’m so sorry,” Gabriele said, taking in Clover’s startled expression. “My mind was in another place.”

  “It’s okay.” Clover brushed at a spot on her jeans. “Most of it spilled on the pavement.”

  “I’ll buy you another.”

  “That’s not necessary. I still have half a cup.”

  Gabriele knew she had to say something before Clover sidestepped around her and walked away. “Hey, didn’t I see you at Callahans?”

  Clover paused and stared at Gabriele’s face. Her eyes didn’t flicker with recognition.


  “I’m sorry. I don’t recall seeing you,” she said. “Are you visiting?”

  What was her story? Gabriele hadn’t had a chance to weave one. “Well, I’m staying at a cottage on the beach off Tower Court. It’s lovely. Red brick with white trim around the windows and doors. Tucked in beside a grove of trees. Do you know it?”

  Color visibly drained from Clover’s face. “You’re staying in the Leatherby cottage?”

  “Yes. I’m… family.”

  Clover blinked. “You sound like you’re German.”

  “Yes, well, we’re distant family. Did you know the Leatherbys?”

  “Excuse me, but I don’t think I caught your name?”

  “Gabriele Baumann.” She left the name Smith off, since it obviously wasn’t a German name and she didn’t want Clover to ask any more questions.

  “I’m trying to locate Mick Leatherby,” Gabriele continued. The name stuck in her throat, but she forced herself to say it. It was Lennon’s real name after all.

  “That’s a name I haven’t heard in ages.” Clover ducked her head. “Did you know Mick?”

  What a loaded question. Well, I was married to him, but his name wasn’t Mick.

  Gabriele swallowed. “Not well. Did you?”

  Clover huffed. “Yeah. I was his girlfriend. The damn bloke just took off, no word of explanation.” Her eyes grew glassy. “I think something horrible happened to him, but no one will talk. Not even his brother.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “At the uni, almost three years ago. We met for lunch in the cafeteria. I knew something was wrong. He looked a little dicky.”

  “Dicky?”

  “Sick. I even asked him if he was coming down with something. He said no, then we snogged. It was a good, proper snog, you know.” She smiled weakly. Gabriele felt her cheeks redden at the thought of Lennon kissing another girl, but she just nodded, encouraging Clover to continue.

  “He didn’t show up for uni the next day. Didn’t answer his mobile or respond to texts. I thought maybe he was having a breakdown after losing his dad. He grew up without a mum, so he and his brother were orphans. But then all his social media disappeared.” She sniffed. “That’s when I knew he didn’t want me to find him.”

  She stared at Gabriele with watery eyes. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

  Gabriele’s heart hurt for the girl. They were both brokenhearted over the same boy.

  “It’s a mystery I’m sure had nothing to do with you.” She said that to comfort Clover, but Gabriele thought it must be the truth. She couldn’t imagine Lennon behaving in such a thoughtless way.

  A tug on her arm made her swirl around and she groaned. Caught.

  She heard Clover’s voice. “Callum?”

  He looked up and grunted, but forced a smile. “Hi, Clover.”

  His eyes cut to Gabriele and his smile disappeared.

  “I thought you were in, like, overseas or something,” Clover said.

  “No, just London.”

  “Oh, I haven’t seen you around, so I just assumed.” She motioned to Gabriele. “Your cousin and I were just having a nice chat.”

  A muscle in Callum’s jaw twitched. “I see. My cousin has a plane to catch. It was nice to see you again, Clover.”

  Clover stared hard at Callum, a fleet of emotions flashing behind hazel eyes. Gabriele recognized this look. She suffered from the same things when she was in close quarters with Callum: sorrow, confusion... and attraction.

  They said awkward good-byes and Clover turned the corner continuing on to wherever she was going. Callum pushed Gabriele’s elbow to guide her across the meridian.

  She tugged her arm away. “Don’t touch me.” Gabriele refused to be bullied or manipulated. She scrambled down High Street away from Callum.

  He snorted but stayed on her heels. He put on his dark sunglasses and pulled his dark wool cap on his head.

  “Not a great disguise,” Gabriele muttered.

  He kept his head low. “It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.”

  “Under what circumstances?”

  He ignored her question. “You weren’t ready for me this morning.”

  “Charming and bright.”

  “Shall we try again?”

  Gabriele spun and stared up at his face, seeing Callum and not Lennon for the first time. “I have every legal right to stay in that cottage as long as I want. It’s mine. Lennon left it to me. Perhaps you’re mad he didn’t leave it to you, but too bad. Now back off!”

  She thought she’d shaken him when she didn’t immediately hear his heavy steps behind her, but she should’ve known better. Callum Leatherby-Jones was a bulldog with a bone when it came to getting her to leave town. He jogged up beside her.

  They walked in emotionally charged silence past the Irish pub and down toward the shore. Gabriele paused for a second. Was it safe to go back with Callum on her heels? How far was he willing to go to get rid of her? At least Clover Swift knew she was staying there and she’d seen Callum. She had a witness.

  Of course, Lennon had disappeared without a trace.

  “Look,” Callum finally said, “Let’s call a truce.”

  “Sure. I go to my home and you go to yours and we never see each other again.”

  “I was thinking more like dinner.”

  “I’m thinking, no way.”

  “At my house. You can look through the family photo albums.”

  Gabriele stopped short. “Your house? You own it?”

  “I inherited it when my dad died. It’s where Mick and I grew up. I’m sure you’re curious.”

  Understatement of the year.

  She didn’t look at him when she asked, “What time?”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  “Fine.”

  She resisted the urge to glance back at him, though she felt him watching her. He didn’t disappear through the trees on the property-line until she was inside.

  Then . . .

  NEW BUDS on dew-covered trees, rising birdsong, shoots of green forcing up from cold, hardened ground: it was the battle between seasons. Winter not wanting to let go of its frozen kingdom, spring not giving up until it did.

  It was a reflection of Gabriele’s heart. It was cold and despondent, clinging to the frosty bitterness and crisp sadness. Every once in a while Gabriele’s spirit would rise with a memory that made her smile, or a surprising if subtle bout of laughter, just to be plunged once again into dark murky water.

  Her grief was unpredictable, at times unmanageable, and could not be scheduled. She’d spent more than one night curled up on the bathroom floor, weeping into a towel so as not to wake Eva or her parents.

  She did her best to keep evidence of it at bay. She thought she was succeeding until her boss called her in to her office one day.

  The woman told her to have a seat and took the chair with wheels behind an uncluttered desk. Her hair was gray and short curls framed her face. “Gabriele,” she said kindly, “I know this is a hard time for you, and I’m not placating. I lost my first husband as a young bride myself, so believe me, I know.

  “However, we’ve been receiving unflattering comments about your work here, which need to be addressed.”

  Gabriele’s chest tightened. “I’ve been working hard.”

  “That’s not what is causing me concern. It’s the quality of your presentations. They are without enthusiasm. It’s as if you’ve memorized a script and recite it like a robot. Tourists, our clients, want to engage with our guides. Be entertained, if you will.”

  She leaned forward, rested her arms flat on her desk and looked Gabriele in the eye. “At the very least, you need to smile.”

  “You’re right, Frau Messer.” Gabriele forced the requested smile. “I will endeavor to do better.”

  Her boss leaned back and smiled in return. “That’s all I ask.”

  Gabriele rode her bike home, allowing the tears to fall. She could blame them on the wind
in her eyes, or the sun that peeked through thinning clouds.

  Once home, she hid away in her room, ignoring her mama’s knock, pretending to be napping when she inched the door open to look inside.

  Frau Messer had gone through this. Many women have. Somehow Gabriele would too. She had to. She couldn’t imagine living the rest of her life in this heavy state of melancholy. It was like she was experiencing life while trapped inside a transparent cocoon. She could see people engaging all around her, but she was helpless to participate.

  She was just so tired. Every single cell in her body was exhausted. Her mind and spirit were tremendously fatigued as well. She wished she could sleep until this was over.

  Her guitar was her friend. It understood. She played it, and the words expressing her feelings flooded onto the page of her notebook. For the first time since Lennon left, she sang.

  Wake me up in Summer Time

  The air is cold

  Don’t wanna go

  Just stay in bed, where it’s warm

  The nights are long

  And sleep won’t come

  Dreamin’ awake of the sun

  Wake me up in Summer time

  The warmth seeps in the layers of my skin

  Wake me up in Summer time

  Leave me buried in these blankets to my chin.

  GABRIELE PACED THE SMALL CABIN, snorting and fuming. That man! He’d manipulated her with the promise of something he knew she couldn’t say no to. Fine. She’d see the photo albums at least. Maybe be the one to manipulate him into giving up answers.

  She collapsed on the sofa and punched the pillow. She wished she knew why they were at war. But he’d started it.

  Gabriele needed to calm down. She hated how Callum had gotten under her skin so quickly. She wasn’t going to give him this kind of power. Wasn’t going to let him ruin what was promising to be a beautiful fall day.

  Her stomach growled and now she wished she would’ve ordered from the cafe’s all-day breakfast menu. She had eggs in the fridge that she’d purchased the day before. She went to work scrambling a few and popped two questionable pieces of fluffy bread into the toaster.