Love Songs

by Bernadette Marie

  “Well she did beat cancer, but it took a little time for them to patch things up. Dad was engaged after all.”

  Warner was grinning, he knew it. Her drama had nothing on his, but when she told her tale he realized even the most put together of families was dysfunctional.

  “Your dad, he dumped his fiancée?”

  “Oh, no. He’s not that kind of man. He’d made a commitment to Kathy and he was going to see it through.”

  “But he was still in love with your mother.”

  Clara turned her head and eased against the seat. “I didn’t say he loved my mother.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  Her smile widened. “He had never stopped loving her. What a sap.” She laughed. “Anyway, he married Kathy and mom refused to go to the wedding. Instead she headed to Mexico and met some man.”

  “Reality TV has nothing on this relationship.”

  She winced at that and continued, “He married her, but she came to her senses before they’d even been married twelve hours. She told him she’d made a mistake and wanted out. She had a friend in the travel industry who took his ticket to Hawaii, where they were going to spend their honeymoon, and she had his ticket fixed so he’d go to Mexico instead.”

  “His new wife sent him after his ex-wife?”

  “Yes she did.”

  “That’s gutsy.”

  “I guess when you realize you made a mistake you might as well suck it up and make the best of it, right?”

  That one hit home. “Yeah.”

  “Kathy is married now with three kids and she’s happy as far as I know. Dad went to Mexico, got Mom, and they came home and got married—again.”

  “What about the man in Mexico?”

  “I don’t know about him. Just some guy who friended her. They never mentioned him much.”

  Warner could understand that.

  Clara pointed to the entrance to the parking garage and Warner headed that way. “Okay, this house you live in.”

  Clara adjusted in her seat again, tucking her other leg under her and shaking out the one she’d been sitting on.

  “The house.” She took a breath. “Keep up, okay?” She laughed. “My Aunt Arianna, who owns the theater, owns the house. When she left for Broadway she let my Aunt Regan live there, after she’d returned from living in Hawaii.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “When Dad needed somewhere to live he moved in with Aunt Regan.”

  He nodded again. So far so good—he was keeping up.

  “Regan married Zach and moved out. Dad moved back home with Mom. Then Zach’s company took over the property and managed it with tenants. Uncle John then moved into the basement and Aunt Arianna came back from New York.”

  He knew he was smiling like a fool, but he was enjoying this. “Got it.”

  “Aunt Arianna and Uncle John got married and built a new house and my brother Christian moved in, upstairs. When Darcy moved to Nashville she lived in the basement until she and Ed moved in together. There is a story there too but we’ll save that one.”

  “O-kay,” he drawled out as he found an open space that would accommodate his truck.

  “Let’s see. So now Christian lives upstairs, but he’s building a house for him and his soon to be fiancée, but don’t tell her because I don’t think she knows he’s going to ask her.”

  Warner chuckled. “I promise.”

  “And my cousin Tyler lives downstairs, for now.” Her face lost its glow.

  “Is he going somewhere far away?”

  “He just needs to find himself. It all has to do with that Darcy and Ed story. I’ll tell you later.” She opened the door to the truck. “I’m hungry. Let’s go see what Ed and Darcy are up to.”

  ***

  The moment the elevator opened to the floor of Benson, Benson, and Hart, Warner shook his head. “Your brother works here?”

  Clara gave him a sideways glance. “You know the company?”

  “I used to be a courier. I’ve been in this office a few times.”

  She smiled wide. “Zach Benson. Does the name ring a bell?”

  “If I remember right, he’s the CEO.”

  “Uncle Zach.”

  Warner sucked in a breath. This girl had a lot of connections. “At least I know when I fall flat on my face in the music industry maybe I can have you put in a good word for me to sweep up construction sites.”

  “I know many men who have started there.” She walked down the hall toward Ed, who was walking toward her. “And there is one of those men.”

  “He worked on site?”

  “Everyone should start at the bottom, don’t you agree?”

  He’d never given it any thought, but she was right. And that was where he was at, wasn’t it? The very, very bottom.

  The smile on Ed’s face was wide as he walked toward his sister. “What are you doing here?” He embraced her tightly.

  “We thought you and Darcy might be available for a hot dog down stairs.”

  He nodded and gave a look at Warner before holding out his hand to him. “Warner, it’s nice to see you.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  Ed looked back at his sister. “Darcy and Regan are shopping. They said they were couch shopping, but something tells me they’ll be looking at wedding dresses.”

  “That is so exciting, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t care what she wears. I just want to get married. But I know she wants to wait until Tyler feels better about it.”

  Warner saw Clara’s expression change. “He’ll be fine in time.”

  Ed nodded. “I know he will.” He sucked in a breath and pushed back his shoulders. “Okay. Let me close my door and I would love to have lunch with you.”

  The plaza on the river front was bustling with people on their lunch hour. Warner was familiar with the hot dog cart they were walking toward. Frank had set him up many times over the years when he didn’t have two dimes to rub together.

  “Warner!” Frank shouted from the folding chair next to the cart. His daughter helped customers, but turned to smile.

  Warner held out his hand to Frank, who shook it with great vigor. This warmed another cold space in Warner’s chest. “Frank, how are you?”

  “Living the good life.” He looked at Ed and Clara. “You know this guy?” He smiled at Ed who held his hand out to Frank and he shook it.

  “How are you, Frank?”

  “Never better.” He narrowed his eyes at Clara. “Which one are you?”

  “I’m Clara. I’m Ed’s sister.”

  Frank nodded his head. “I should have known,” he said with a smile. “C’mon, my Pearl will get you all set up.”

  They ordered their lunches and Ed quickly paid. Warner didn’t like that, but inside he’d admit he was more than grateful to have saved a few bucks. He thanked Ed and followed them to a concrete picnic table down by the river.

  “This is great,” Ed said taking a bite out of his hot dog. “I was afraid Mary Ellen was going to feed me a salad. She’s trying to get Zach to watch what he’s eating.”

  Clara turned to Warner. “Mary Ellen is Zach’s assistant.”

  He nodded and took his first bit of his lunch.

  “So what are you two doing?” Ed asked.

  “Getting to know each other. I was filling Warner in on Mom and Dad’s marriages.’

  Ed laughed. “Well one thing you’ll never be lacking is a good Keller story. We are one very eclectic bunch.”

  “I think that’s awesome,” Warner said trying to choke down his bite. “My family story is short and sweet. I think it’s cool that you all have each other.”

  “She told you the Kellers are mostly adopted, right? So we represent, literally, the whole world at the dining room table.”

  “She didn’t mention that yet. I don’t think.”

  Clara sipped her soda. “My dad is adopted. He was born in Puerto Rico and became a Keller at the age of seven. My aunts, Regan and Arianna, a
re blood sisters, but were adopted when they were very little. Uncle Curtis is the only blood Keller to my grandparents but he married Simone who is French.” She giggled. “And when you meet my grandmother, whom you’ll love, she speaks with a German accent accentuated with Southern charm.”

  “And yet you’re all so close.”

  “I don’t suppose you can find a tighter knit family.”

  Warner already knew that—longed for it. Again that nagging reminder beat in his chest. He needed Clara’s voice. She was going to be his ticket. This little relationship they were building was a mistake, and he knew it. It would be best if he got what he needed and got out before Clara got hurt. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to her because of him.

  Chapter Five

  Warner watched Clara type a text message on her phone. Something was eating at her, but she’d yet to bring it up. One thing he’d learned in his life was to leave things alone. When she was ready to tell him she would. But he couldn’t help but feel that whatever was bothering her had to do with him.

  He eased his beat up pickup truck into the parking space in front of the theater and Clara finally looked up.

  “You don’t have your music and guitar with you do you?” she asked.

  Warner winced. “Wouldn’t be a real musician if I didn’t, right?”

  She nodded. “Do you have time to come in and work?”

  Warner twisted in his seat to look at her. “Work? On music?”

  She let out a sigh. “Listen, Randy got this gig for us. You and me.”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah. But it’s closing night at the theater.”

  “Oh.” He saw the dilemma now. His stupid thought on her being the voice to sell his music was backfiring because she had a life. Everyone had a life and usually it didn’t include him or his music.

  “He said Lionel Perry heard your song the other night and contacted Randy.”

  “Lionel Perry?” His voice rose in pitch. “Lionel Perry as in the same man who has discovered some of the biggest names in this town? That Lionel Perry?”

  “Yes.”

  Warner ran his hand over his hair. “Wow. He heard my song?”

  “You’re going to have to do this on your own, though.”

  That phrase didn’t settle with him—nor did it surprise him. “Right.” He let out a deep breath. “Can’t we reschedule?”

  She shook her head. “C’mon, isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? Someone to want to hear your music? Warner, you’re more than just the words on paper. You have some great talent.”

  “You’ve never heard me.”

  Her smile was back and lit in her eyes. “You Tube.”

  Warner bit down on his lip. “You’re not just saying that, are you?”

  “I’m not just saying that.” She reached her hand to his cheek. “You have to stop letting others get into your head.”

  He knew that, but it certainly was engrained in him “So you can’t make it, but you’re going to help prepare?”

  Clara dropped her hand to his and interlaced their fingers. “Yes, I’m going to help you. Isn’t this what you want? To perform your music for someone who wants to hear you?”

  It was what he’d wanted more than everything. In fact until she’d said it out loud, he’d given up on wanting to perform and had settled to selling his music if the opportunity came along.

  “I do want that.”

  “Well, c’mon then. Let’s practice.”

  The theater was still set up for West Side Story. Clara pulled two chairs to the center of the stage and then retrieved her guitar from backstage.

  Warner looked around the streetscape and thought of Clara standing on the fire escape singing down to her Tony. It occurred to him that there were only four shows left and he’d heard her sing, but he hadn’t seen her perform. Perhaps he’d try to secure tickets for the show. And it was moments like that he wished he’d had a mother who’d like to accompany her son to the theater. Well, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, he didn’t have that so there was no reason to even let that get under his skin.

  Clara returned with her guitar and sat down across from him.

  “Okay, handsome, let’s make some music.”

  There wasn’t much to her picking up the tunes he’d had tucked away in his head. She could read his scribble and adlib with the best. They’d run through one song and on the second round she’d harmonize against him.

  He’d never felt so alive.

  They were genius together. The theater filled with their sound. He recorded each song on his iPhone and each one sounded better than the one before.

  This could happen. This could work. He’d been right, Clara Keller could be his ticket.

  The moment overtook him as she shuffled the music on the stand before her. Warner rose to his feet, walked to her and pulled her to her feet. Each of them gripped the necks of their guitars. He slid his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him into a kiss that should have melted his shoes to the stage.

  His tongue sought out hers and a moan escaped her throat. Colors danced behind his eyelids and his heart pounded in his chest harder than the vibrations from sitting too close to the speakers at a rock concert. No matter what happened with his music he had to keep this woman. Nothing had ever made him feel as alive and as whole as this woman did.

  His lips were warm and his mouth so inviting. She had to focus on holding tightly to the guitar so that it wouldn’t fall to the ground.

  Warner’s fingers worked through her hair and she raised her free hand to his chest and gripped his shirt in her fingers.

  It was then, during the bliss of the kiss, when she heard the distinct sound of the theater lights being turned off.

  Her eyes flew open and she clung to Warner, a scream was caught in her throat and threatened to choke her.

  “Hello!” Warner called out.

  Clara’s hands shook as she gripped him tighter.

  “Hello?” He called again.

  “Clara? Are you in there?” John’s voice called from the back of the stage.

  “Uncle John, we’re here.”

  A smaller light illuminating the back stage turned on and she could see him standing near the door.

  “Sorry kiddo. I thought you guys left. It got quiet.” He took a step toward the stage. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Her hands were still gripping the front of Warner’s shirt and her other hand had such a grip on the guitar that the frets were cutting into her fingers.

  “I’m okay,” she said, but her voice shook.

  Warner looked down at her. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

  “I’m fine.” She took a step back. “I said I was fine.”

  She let out a long breath and tried to steady herself. Her palms were sweaty and her hands still shook as she tried to gather the music off the stand as Warner tucked his guitar into its case.

  John walked to her and placed his hand on her back. She winced and that bothered her.

  “Honey, you okay?”

  “I’m fine. You just startled me, that’s all.”

  “I know. You haven’t been this jumpy in years.”

  He was trying to keep her calm, but standing on that same stage with darkness enveloping, it brought back too many memories.

  “Do you need a ride home?” John asked.

  “I have my Jeep.”

  “Is Christian home?”

  Clara shrugged. “I don’t know.” She sucked in a breath. “I’ll be okay. I’m fine.” She pushed her shoulders back. “I can lock up. You can go.”

  John shook his head. “Give me your guitar. I’ll put it away and you two go out the front. I’ll wait until you’re out.”

  She wasn’t going to argue. Clara handed him the instrument and started off the stage.

  Warner watched her walking away from him. He exchanged glances with John, who gave him a simple nod an
d then headed back stage.

  He picked up his case and hurried after her.

  She was walking at an ungodly pace, but he finally caught up with her when she crossed through the front door. But the last thing he expected was to have her turn into his arms and sob against his chest.

  “Hey,” he said as softly as he could, but he’d been nearly bowled over by her falling into him. “It’s okay.”

  She sobbed into his shirt. This was a first. He’d never had a woman do this. Usually he’d been the cause of their tears, not the comfort.

  Warner ran his hand over her hair and waited for her to either cry out all her tears or give up. He wasn’t sure which had happened but it took about five more minutes.

  When Clara raised her head and began wiping at the tears that lingered on her cheeks, she shook her head “I’m so sorry. That was so unnecessary. You didn’t need to see that side of me.”

  “I’m not sure what I saw.” He gripped his hand around the handle of his guitar case a little firmer. “Did you just get startled?”

  Clara looked at the ground and then back up at him. “I had a bad experience in there when the lights went off. That just took me off guard.”

  He could feel the heat rise under his skin, as if his blood were beginning to boil. He reached out for her. “Did someone hurt you?”

  She was gathering her thoughts and biting her lip. Warner knew he’d felt heart break a million times in his life, but standing there waiting for her to tell him that someone hurt her—it was killing him.

  “I just want to go home.”

  He wanted to shake the story out of her. How could someone have had that kind of reaction to something and then not want to talk about it?

  Maybe she just didn’t want to talk to him.

  “You’re really in no shape to drive. Let me give you a ride.”

  She took a breath, and he was sure she was going to argue, instead she clasped his hand. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

  The drive was quiet and Clara fought within herself to gain composure. There was no reason for her to have gotten that worked up over something as silly as John turning off the lights. But she couldn’t help it. There were just some events in your life that formed you into who you would become. The night she stood on that stage and the lights went out when she was thirteen would haunt her forever.