by Hope Franke
“I don’t want you to entertain me. I want you to listen to me.”
“Listen or obey?”
“Both.”
“Too bad.”
“Okay, I’ll settle for listen. There was a reason Mick had to leave, a reason he didn’t tell you about me. I can’t tell you why, but you being here is dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” She stifled a nervous laugh. “How so?”
“I can’t tell you. It just is. And it’s in everyone’s best interest if you leave immediately.”
Gabriele dropped her fork and laughed. “You’re incredible, you know that? All secrets and scare tactics. Emsworth is the least dangerous place on the planet.” She stood sharply and threw her serviette on the table. “Do you want the cottage? Is that what this is about? You know, if you had been nicer to me, I might have considered a deal. But now, I’ll sell to anyone but you. And that’s if I sell.”
She didn’t wait for Callum to see her out or walk her home, and for a change he didn’t follow her, but she glanced up at the second-story window on the roadside of the house when she got to her front door and saw the outline of his silhouette watching her.
GABRIELE WAS TOO AGITATED to sit and far too aggravated to sleep. Television served as a temporary distraction. Even playing the guitar Callum had left for her failed to soothe her nerves. The instrument itself was a reminder of his egotistical, big-headedness. He was trying to strong arm her and Gabriele wasn’t about to be wrestled down by the likes of him.
How could she feel so furious and indignant towards one brother and so tender and heartbroken over the other? The familiar ache that had taken up residence in her chest was now bound with something else. The deep ache of extreme loss mixed with the twisty kind of hot angry pain that comes from feeling duped.
Lennon Smith wasn’t Lennon Smith. He was Mick Leatherby, the boy who became a man just one property over. The boy who became a man playing on this very beach, celebrating a shared birthday with his twin at an annual bar-b-que hosted by their single father.
The boy who had a life in England he’d chosen not to share with her.
A sob erupted in her chest, and a burning tore through her throat as she fought to push it back down.
Enough! She swiped her sleeve under her nose and pressed the cuffs of her blouse against her tear ducts. She’d shed enough tears for Lennon Smith and she wasn’t going to shed one more. She pulled out her phone and removed Smith from her last name on all her social sites. She couldn’t even be sure her marriage had been legal. She took off her ring.
Gabriele released a loud moan into the semi darkness. So much pain! How could Lennon do this to her?
Why did he have to lie?
Why did he have to die?
She couldn’t stay here. She needed out. Needed air. She quickly freshened up, doing a half-baked job with her makeup which surprisingly she didn’t care about, grabbed her coat and purse and left for the pub. According to the sign on the street, it was open mic night. She was ready to see what kind of talent this town had to offer.
Gabriele had traveled this path from the cottage to the town so many times in the last few days she could almost do it with her eyes closed. Which was a good thing. A cloud covering blanketed the moon and it was almost pitch black. At least she had a torch app on her phone.
She walked with determination, the crunch of her footsteps and the sound of her breath in her ears.
A branch snapping?
Gabriele swiveled around. She aimed her light in a circle around her, but its rays didn’t go far and she couldn’t see around the soft bend of the narrow alley.
“Callum?” she spoke out cautiously. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit if he was following her. “Don’t be an idiot,” she called more courageously.
No response. She was pretty sure Callum would’ve identified himself. He might be a jerk, but he wasn’t a psycho. He wouldn’t scare her intentionally.
Would he?
No, of course not.
Unless he was the reason Lennon left? Did they have a falling out? Was the danger Callum referred to Callum himself?
That was crazy. The bush behind her shifted. She shot the light of her phone to the sound. She couldn’t see anyone. It was just the wind. Or maybe a squirrel.
Gabriele picked up her pace. All of Callum’s spooky talk was just getting to her.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched and breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the pub and opened the door to the energetic atmosphere.
Callahans buzzed with conversation competing with the Irish tunes pumping in through the sound system set up on the stage. The air was warm from crowded bodies—open mic nights were obviously popular—and smelled strongly of hops and deep-fried foods.
Ciara spotted her and waved her over to the table where she was sitting. “Push down everyone,” she said. “This is Gabriele.”
The group at the table acknowledged her, then went back to their conversations.
“Not working tonight?” Gabriele asked.
Ciara smiled. “My brother gives me time off to have a life.”
“And yet, here you are.”
“I know, right? But Callahans is the place to be on a Thursday night.”
A server came over and Gabriele ordered a soda. She glanced around and the only other person she knew in the place was Clover. When their gazes connected, Clover quickly averted her eyes. The guy beside Clover put an arm around her chair. Clover shot him a look and pushed it off. The guy scowled.
Gabriele asked Ciara, “Who is that?”
Ciara followed Gabriele’s gaze. “Sitting beside Clover Swift? That’s Rupert Kingsley. He and Clover are a thing. More like an off again/on again thing. Looks like it might be off again.”
Rupert Kingsley had a hard edge to his face with hooded eyes that stared at Clover with a dark intensity that made Gabriele uncomfortable. Gabriele couldn’t help but wonder how Clover had ended up with a guy like that. Maybe she wouldn’t have if Lennon had stuck around.
Riley Callahan jumped on stage and took the mic. “Welcome to open mic night at Callahans. Thanks for coming out.”
Gabriele leaned into Ciara. “Your brother is cute. Does he have a girlfriend?”
She laughed. “Why, are you interested?”
Gabriele’s interest was purely tabloid. The idea that she might date again was a foreign one.
Or, at least it had been.
Ciara laughed. “You look like a scared rabbit. Don’t worry. I won’t try to set you up if you don’t want to be. Besides, he keeps claiming he’s too busy to date.”
“I’m sure he has his pick of girls.”
“Yeah, all but the one he really wants.”
“And who’s that?”
“Ah, Callahans don’t gossip about each other.”
Riley Callahan called up the first act. A younger guy, Gabriele guessed him to still be in his teens, jumped up with a guitar. He sang a cover tune. He wasn’t great, but the crowd was friendly and shouted encouragement.
Gabriele drank her soda and tried to shake off her nerves. She was here to relax and that was exactly what she was going to do.
She was surprised when Riley announced the next singer. “Folks, please welcome my sister, Ciara Callahan!”
Gabriele gawked as Ciara jumped up, shimmied through the crowded chairs and jumped on stage. She picked up the guitar sitting on stage and strapped it on. The crowd hooted and some shouted out requests. Evidently this wasn’t the first time Ciara had played.
“Thanks, guys. Here’s one I know you like.”
Ciara had real talent. Her hands moved expertly along the fret of the guitar, her fingers flexible and fluid. Her voice was husky, yet crystal clear.
Gabriele applauded enthusiastically when the song ended. “You were great! Did you write that?”
Ciara nodded. “I like to dabble in songwriting.”
“Me, too.” Gabriele almost blurted out her claim to fame
, a sister who dated a rock star, but refrained. She liked to be judged on her own merits, not based on who she knew.
Ciara nudged her. “I’d love to hear you play.”
“Nah, I’m just here to listen.”
“C’mon. You don’t know anybody here. It’s the safest place.”
Gabriele knew what Ciara meant. Playing to strangers was easier in some ways than playing to people you knew. It didn’t matter so much what they thought. You’d never see them again anyway.
Why not play? She needed something to make her feel alive again.
“Do I just storm the stage?”
Ciara laughed. “I’ll tell my brother. He’ll call you up next.”
Gabriele watched Ciara as she made her way to where Riley stood by the bar. She pointed at Gabriele and Gabriele waved. Riley nodded his dark head and offered her a friendly smile.
Ciara returned just as the last act finished to appreciative applause. And as promised, Riley called her up.
“We have a newcomer all the way from Dresden, Germany. Please welcome Gabriele!”
A surge of adrenaline energized her and she made her way to the stage. This was just like karaoke, but with a guitar.
“I wonder if the band wouldn’t mind helping me out with this one.” They hopped back on stage, and she called out the timing and key.
She strapped on Ciara’s guitar and ran her fingers along the strings, plucking a few notes to warm up and get a feel for the instrument.
She scanned the audience and let out a breath. Besides Ciara, Riley and Clover, she didn’t know anyone. And she didn’t even really know those three.
Then the door opened and a dark figure shifted into the back.
Shoot! Why did Callum have to show up now?
Her heart stuttered and stopped. She really didn’t want to play in front of him. He already knew so much about her and she had been determined that he wouldn’t see anything more.
A silence descended and Gabriele could see the faces in the crowd watching with eager anticipation, wondering, no doubt, if this new girl was any good.
Her only options were to play or leave without playing. The latter would be humiliating for her and embarrassing for the Callahans. She forged ahead.
“I wrote this song for someone I loved who left me suddenly.” She let her gaze settle on Callum. His eyes were dark and intense, undistracted and captivated. She counted the band in and began to play.
Looking into Vincent’s starlight swirl
like portals into the spirit world
We were just hoping that someone heard
this brokenhearted boy and girl
Hold on, I’m falling for you
Inside of us, in spite of us there is a star that shines
This light in us, in spite of us, is keeping hope alive
Didn’t we say that the stars were just holes in the night sky
letting the light shine in from a better world
Didn’t we think that the stars were just holes in the night sky
Letting the light shine in from a better world
You are my star, letting the light shine in
From a better world
The crowd erupted when she finished and she basked in the applause. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing over at Callum, and a smug, satisfied smile crossed her face when she saw a hint of a grin. His arms unfolded and he clapped slowly with appreciation.
Then . . .
SHE SURVIVED the year of firsts. First Christmas, first Valentine’s Day. Her birthday, his birthday. Summertime. Their wedding day.
And now today, the last of the firsts. The anniversary of Lennon’s death.
Time did go on as unfair as that was. The sun kept setting and rising. The seasons kept changing. People fell in and out of love. They were born and they died.
Gabriele had lived life without Lennon now for almost as long as she had lived life with him. The time they’d shared in this world had been impossibly short. If she should live to be an old lady, the Lennon Year would be just a blip on the screenplay of her life.
An intense, meaningful, beautiful, excruciating blip.
Today was the last of the firsts and it still lay ahead of her. A glance at her phone told her it was 08:35. She didn’t want to get out of bed.
Eva’s bed was empty; she’d left for uni an hour earlier. Gabriele had heard her get ready, felt her hover over her. Eva knew what day this was, too, but Gabriele didn’t want to face it yet. She pretended to sleep and then actually did. She dreamed of Lennon, of course. Another makeout dream. He was always kissing her and undressing her. It was the last thing they had done together when he was alive, so it didn’t surprise her that this was the moment she often revisited in her dreams.
The dreams used to throw her into an emotional tizzy, the wound of his death just too raw, but now they felt more like a balm. They comforted her.
This dream was different than the others. Lennon had spoken to her. “Good-bye, Gabi,” he said. “Live well.” Then he disappeared like an apparition.
It made her both sad and hopeful. Live well. She had no idea how to do that.
A knock on the door was followed by the entrance of her mama. She had a bouquet of flowers in her hand, already placed in a water-filled vase.
“I brought these for you. To brighten your day.”
“Thanks, Mama. They’re beautiful.”
Her mama sat on the side of the bed and reached for Gabriele’s hand. “Can I pray for you?”
She hadn’t asked since the last time Gabriele had turned her away. Her mama’s eyes were so full of love and compassion, and Gabriele couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings by saying no. Besides, a little prayer couldn’t hurt.
“Sure, Mama.”
Her mama’s hand was warm and soft, and her words of prayer focused heavenward were soothing and comforting. Gabriele felt her resistance fall away and she accepted the words of peace, drawing them around her like a shawl.
Her mama said, “Amen,” then kissed her on the head. “I’ll make breakfast.”
Gabriele showered and dressed. She stared at her image in the mirror. She used to bother with her appearance, keeping regular hair and nail appointments. Her previously short, platinum bleach-blond hair had grown out over the last year. When her natural brunette roots had grown out several centimetres, Mama had presented a new box of dye to match things up.
Now her darker hair had grown past her shoulders, she rarely wore any makeup—
weeping didn’t lend itself well to the practice—and she kept her nails short for the guitar.
Lennon would hardly recognize her.
She ate a small breakfast, then walked the twenty-minute trek to the graveyard where Lennon’s body was buried. Her mama had offered to come along, but Gabriele reassured her that she was fine to go alone. It was what she needed.
The surrounding trees, newly turned yellow and red, dotted the grounds. Gabriele knelt on the damp moss and wiped the gravestone clean. She cried like she knew she would, but the tears came from a different place now. Sorrowful, but mixed with a small portion of acceptance.
“What now, Lennon?” she asked. “What do I do now?”
She disliked her job, but couldn’t afford to leave it. She appreciated how her parents took care of her, but she was a twenty-five-year-old woman. She needed to take care of herself.
Gabriele felt stuck. Her heart had softened enough that she could manage a few short prayers of her own. There must be an answer somewhere.
And there was. It arrived at the same time Eva did.
Gabriele was sitting at the kitchen table eating a slice of marble cake her mother had made when Eva came home with a formal envelope.
“The postal worker was at the door when I got there,” she said. “I signed for it.”
Mama wiped damp hands on a T-towel. “Is it for Papa?”
“No.” She handed it to Gabriele. “It’s for you.”
The cream-coloured envelope had the
name of a law firm in the return address. Gabriele narrowed her eyes, confused. She’d been told that all the death registration requirements had been taken care of. She wasn’t exactly clear how, just that Lennon’s company had managed it.
Eva sat on a chair beside Gabriele. “Are you going to open it?”
Gabriele ran a finger under the seal and removed the documents. Strange. They were in English. She pushed back at the lump growing in her throat and read on.
“Gabi, you should see your face,” Eva said. “What is it?”
Her mama stepped closer. “Schatzi?”
Gabriele glanced at both of them, to the papers in her hand and back again. Her eyes flickered with disbelief.
“It’s Lennon’s will. He left me something.”
“What?” Eva demanded. “What did he leave you?”
“A cottage. In England.”
GABRIELE SHOOK hands with the band members, thanking them again. A flush of euphoria surged through her veins as she relived the last few minutes. It’d been a long time since she played in front of anyone. Once in a while Lennon would prod her to play at the Blue Note Pub in Neustadt, and they often sat in circles at the park with their friends on the weekends, passing a guitar around to those who played.
She placed the guitar in its stand and stepped off the stage just as a commotion stirred at one of the tables near the front. Gabriele focused her gaze past the house lights to the source and witnessed a verbal dispute between Clover Swift and her sometimes boyfriend Rupert Kingsley.
Clover’s voice cut through the din that had suddenly quieted as the crowd observed the spectacle. “Just leave me alone!”
Rupert grabbed her wrist.
Gabriele had the perspective of the whole room. Riley took strides from the bar. Callum moved in from the door. This was a set up for a bad scene.
Gabriele’s legs seemed to move on their own, and within two seconds she found herself between the squabbling affair. She extended her hand awkwardly to Rupert.
“Hi there. I’m Gabriele.”
His intense eyes moved from Clover to Gabriele’s hand. It was like a switch had gone off in his head and he was just now realizing that the whole room was watching him, witnessing his abuse of his girlfriend.