Nocturne

by Andrea Randall

  That thought stopped me cold. Karin. A part of me asked, what have I done? But it was a small part. Because right then, where I was, here, with her, felt more right than anything I’d ever felt in my life. And I didn’t want Karin, even thoughts of her, intruding into this space. This sacred, amazing space.

  I blinked my eyes then squeezed them shut, because I was afraid if I kept them open, tears would spill over. Because ... I could only ask myself ... why? Why had I let her go? Why did I tell James those years ago that I’d cut off contact with Savannah? Why did I let her walk away? Because in all too many ways, I’d been living in hell since the day she walked away.

  And now? Now I was married.

  To someone else.

  I breathed out, involuntarily whispering the words, “I love you, Savannah.”

  At those words she sucked in a quick breath. I squeezed my eyebrows together at an unfamiliar sensation. A tear, fallen from her eyes to my chest.

  “I’ve loved you since the beginning,” she whispered.

  I slowly inhaled. I started to answer, but before I did, she took a breath again and spoke.

  “I loved you the first time I saw you play the cello. I loved how you caressed it, how you made the music alive.”

  I couldn’t think. I couldn’t answer. I just looked down, allowing her to finish.

  “I love the way you look at me,” she said.

  I kissed her delicately on the forehead, a tiny wisp of her hair staying on my lips. I broke my right hand away from hers and brought it to my eyes, wiping them furiously. Because I’d never wanted to admit to anyone that when I’d married Karin, I’d always imagined I was really with Savannah.

  I’d wished.

  I’d wanted her so badly.

  I opened my mouth to speak again, but she wasn’t finished.

  “I loved the way you looked at me when we played together. I loved that it was exactly the same as you looked when we were making love.”

  I swallowed. Tried to breathe in. I tried to say something. But I couldn’t even think. And then she said the words. She said them in a quiet tone, her voice breathy, beautiful, as open and vulnerable as I’d ever heard anyone sound.

  “I love us,” she said.

  I suppressed a sob. And I whispered, “I do too.”

  At that moment I knew this couldn’t last. I couldn’t have just part of her. I wanted Savannah in my life for good. I wanted her more than anything. I wanted her as my partner, as my lover, as my wife. For the first time in my adult life, I was … happy … overjoyed ... to be touching someone, to have someone in my arms, and I never wanted to let that go. I never wanted to let her go.

  And it broke me that I had pledged my life.

  My eternity.

  To someone else.

  Savannah

  His cologne was sweeter than I’d remembered. It was more intoxicating than I’d considered, but by then it didn’t matter. I was fully his. Laying with my back to him, I was molded into his body as if we were crafted for each other. Still naked from last night, my bare skin touched almost every inch of him as one of his arms set snugly around my waist.

  I cautiously opened one eye, not wanting to disturb him as I checked the time.

  5:24 a.m.

  We had to leave for the airport in three hours in order to meet back up with the tour in Lincoln, Nebraska for this evening’s show. I’d never had a desire to go to Nebraska, but as I shifted to nuzzle my head back onto his shoulder, I submitted to the fact that I would follow wherever Gregory went in an instant.

  I didn’t know if he could follow me back.

  I ignored that reality as I replayed the sight of his muscular shoulders towering over my body as we worked in slow rhythm with each other, expressing overwhelming emotions I hadn’t realized I’d held onto for so long. Never had I ever felt so comfortable allowing someone in like that. Emotionally and physically. There were no questions, no awkward pauses as we transitioned easily from one measure to the next, our once silent song resonating between us.

  I love you, Savannah.

  We’d spoken those words to each other before. But to hear them again, after so much time and so much hurt, and to have them feel just like they had back then … no, they felt better. More sincere as we looked into each other’s eyes, bared to one another under the soft moonlight sneaking admittance through the hotel room window.

  Gregory shifted and tightened his arm around me, inhaling as he planted a soft kiss on my shoulder. I grinned, unmoving, reveling in the elegance of the moment. The allure of the next step was tantalizing as he pressed his hips into me, growing harder with each kiss he fixed down my spine. Involuntarily, my hips shifted back, pushing into him as I let out a small sigh.

  His firm hand glided satisfyingly down my side. My muscles twitched as his fingers stumbled across the embarrassingly ticklish skin at the base of my ribs. I felt his grin on my shoulder blade as his hand rode over the curve of my hip and slid forward, slipping between my thighs.

  “Mmm …” I rolled back slightly, parting my legs to allow his fingers full access.

  His mouth moved quickly to my neck and his teeth gently nibbled at my skin as he sucked in a quick breath, his fingers sliding easily inside me. As his thumb worked over me in lazy circles, I shifted again, needing to see him.

  To remind myself this was all real.

  His crystal eyes brightened as I smiled, holding his face in my hands. Playfully, he bit his lip and grinned, leaning forward to kiss me.

  “Good morning,” he managed after prying his tongue from my mouth. His voice was sexy in the morning. Undisciplined roughness.

  I had to close my eyes for a moment as his fingers worked faster, my hips shifting anxiously beneath him.

  Suddenly, Vivaldi bellowed from the cell phone on his bedside stand, startling us both. The cold chill of reality settled like a lead ball in my stomach as he clumsily pulled his hand away from me and sat up on the edge of the bed. I lay there, unmoving, banishing truth from my daydream for a while longer.

  Just one minute more. Please.

  “Hello?” He cleared his throat and said it again.

  I silently appealed to the universe to let it be someone from the tour. Joseph McIntosh, maybe, congratulating us on our job well done last night or confirming our arrival time in Lincoln later in the day. It was barely six o’clock, though.

  It wasn’t anyone else.

  “Hi,” he started again. “Mmm-hmm. Yes. I am, too.” The flirtatious huskiness of his voice was gone. All the life was sucked from the room as I sat up, resting my back against the plush headboard and tucked my knees into my chest.

  Gregory rested his elbows on his knees as he spoke, dangling his fingers through his hair as he let out a deep sigh. “Yes, my flight leaves in a couple of hours so I have to … yes. Of course. I will. You, too.”

  His phone slid from his fingers onto the bed next to him. He glanced over his shoulder, a grievous look on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but I couldn’t listen. I didn’t know if he regretted what we’d done last night or that his wife interrupted our morning, but neither was appropriate. Neither acceptable. Neither better than the other.

  “Don’t,” I said, wrapping the sheet around myself as I slid off the mattress.

  “Savannah,” he sighed.

  Taking a deep breath, I walked to his side of the bed and squatted down, meeting his tortured gaze.

  “Don’t,” I repeated, kissing him once. I didn’t want an apology or an excuse for last night. It was incredible. So were we. I wanted to leave it as it was before we had to return to reality.

  As I stepped away, he stood, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward him. He took my face in his hands as his expression softened. The stain of regret lingered, though.

  It always does.

  “I love you,” he whispered as if we weren’t alone in the room.

  We weren’t, really.

  With tears stinging my eyes, I suddenly needed a shower more than I
ever had in my life. I swallowed hard, nodding as I tried to find my voice.

  “I know.”

  I shrugged and gave a timid smile as I pulled away from his grip and locked myself in the bathroom. Looking at my reflection, I watched two pathetic tears slip down my cheeks. Mocking tears. Tears that garnered no sympathy from me or my conscience.

  I loved Gregory Fitzgerald with every fiber of my being. And I knew he loved me back. It was as undeniable as it’d always been. We were meant to be together.

  But, for every breath I took, there would forever be the exhale to remind myself of what I’d just done.

  I slept with another woman’s husband.

  And I could never take that back.

  Gregory

  By the time we stepped into a cab at the Lincoln Airport, my patience was shot.

  Savannah left the hotel room in a hurry that morning. Such a hurry that I hardly knew what was happening, and by the time I got clothes on and followed her out the door, she was gone, and I didn’t know what her room number was. She ended up meeting me in the lobby, where we took a car, in silence, back to the airport. Except for communicating the barest of information, such as which gate we were going to, she didn’t speak to me at the airport, or boarding the plane.

  When the plane reached altitude, she leaned her seat back, put in earbuds, and turned away from me, closing her eyes. I’ve never felt so conflicted and confused in my life. I understood confusion. I understood mixed feelings. I loved her so much. But the fact that I was married tangled everything in knots.

  What I couldn’t understand was why she was so angry that she shut me out?

  The moment the in-flight service started, I ordered a gin and tonic, heavy on the gin, and tossed the first one back like it was a shot. Savannah slept through the entire flight. Or, pretended to sleep if my nights next to Karin taught me anything about acting. I dredged out my old notebook and began to write.

  The notebook began as nothing more than a log. A place to record my thoughts about particular performances or practices that went well or... not so well. Lately, though, it had increasingly become an outlet, a method for me to compose my thoughts before I had to deal with Karin.

  Finally, the excruciatingly long flight ended, and we were on the ground in Lincoln, Nebraska, of all places. I’d never been in Nebraska. I’d never planned to be in Nebraska. I didn’t want to be in Nebraska. As the plane came in on its final approach, all I could see outside was flat ground, spreading out uninterrupted for a million miles in every direction.

  Who voluntarily lived in such a place?

  Savannah was awake enough that she stirred in her seat and put away her earbuds during the final approach. Thirty minutes later we were standing in the blasting sunlight of middle America, the smell of dust and car exhaust permeating everything as I carefully slid my cello into the back of a cab.

  “Please talk to me,” I said as we got in the back seat. “Why are you angry with me, Savannah?”

  She looked at me, a puzzled expression on her face. “I’m not angry with you.”

  “Where to?” the cab driver asked.

  Crap. I’d written down the hotel information somewhere, but I had no idea what I’d done with it. As I fumbled with my wallet and pockets, Savannah reached in her purse and read out an address for the Marriott Cornhusker. I could only hope that the hotel wouldn’t match the name.

  “Lot of construction over there,” the driver said. “It may take a little while.”

  “Fine,” I said, irritation flashing through me. “Let’s just get going.”

  “There’s no need to be rude, Gregory. It’s not his fault you’re married.”

  I muttered, “Damn it,” under my breath. “Is that what this is about?”

  She gave me a level stare as the cab pulled out. Then she took a deep breath and said, “What do you expect from me, Gregory?”

  “I expect you to not shut me out.”

  She tilted her head, staring at me. Her brown eyes were huge. Seductive. Beautiful. And completely inscrutable. I hated that I had absolutely no idea what she was thinking.

  Outside, the bright sunlight shone down on what might have been the most depressing sight of my life. Flat grass extended all the way to the horizon, interrupted by nothing but a few trees and buildings. It was oppressive. As the driver took us closer to the highway, my phone rang, and I froze. The odds were very good it was Karin.

  The phone rang again.

  Savannah raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should answer your phone, Gregory.”

  I stared back at her. Then I slowly took out the phone. It was, of course, Karin.

  “Hello?”

  “Gregory? Are you alone?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. I’m in a taxicab.”

  I leaned forward slightly, keeping my eyes averted from Savannah. We were headed into what appeared to be a more urban area, thank God for that. But the cab was slowing down, as traffic thickened.

  “Are you with her?”

  My entire body tensed. “What difference does that make? I don’t really see how that’s relevant, Karin.”

  “Of course you don’t. That’s because you’re fucking heartless, Gregory. I don’t know why I ever married you. And I don’t understand why ...”

  Her voice trailed off a little as I held the phone away from my ear. I could still hear her talking. So could Savannah, and the cab driver, and probably the people in the other car next to us. I closed my eyes, trying to regain my equilibrium. Then I thumbed the red button, hanging up on her.

  Savannah’s eyes dropped to the floor. She blinked twice. I couldn’t tell if she was trying to hold back tears or rage.

  “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” I said.

  She shook her head, a tiny, constrained movement. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why are you sorry? It’s reality. You’re married.”

  The cab had come to a stop, and the driver laid on the horn. I leaned forward. Nothing but dozens of stopped cars in front of us. The sun beat down on the car, scorching heat coming through the glass of the windshield. At the sight of the wall of cars ahead of us, my shoulders tensed. I turned around. More cars were lining up behind us.

  “What’s going on?” I asked the driver.

  He shrugged, holding out his hands. “Construction. I told you that when you got in.”

  “Are you in a hurry, Gregory?” Savannah had an ironic smile on her face. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

  “I want you to stop behaving like a child.”

  Her eyes flared wide, and she replied, carefully enunciating each word. “I am not behaving like a child. I do, however, need some time to think.”

  “What is there to think about? We love each other.” As I said the words, I wiped my arm across my forehead.

  She leaned close and hissed, “We love each other. And you are married. To someone else.”

  “Do you expect that to change overnight?”

  “I don’t know what I expect.” Her eyes were glazed over and she looked away from me.

  I sighed and leaned back in my seat. The cab driver took out a phone and dialed, then began talking to someone. I leaned forward and said, “Can you turn on the air conditioning? It’s roasting in here.”

  He shook his head and waved his hand as if to brush me off.

  “Seriously,” I said, trying to keep a lid on my anger. How dare he wave me off in such a dismissive manner?

  “Gregory,” Savannah said. “Relax.”

  “It’s stifling in here!”

  “Gregory!” she said in a sharp tone. “It’s not about the heat. It’s about us.”

  I turned back to her and said, “I don’t know what to do, Savannah!”

  She shook her head, violently, then said, “I don’t know what I was thinking. Do you intend for that to be me someday?”

  “What?”

  She pointed at my pocket, where I’d put my phone. “Some day, you’ll just be able to hang
up. Like you did with her. And that will be that.” Her voice began to shake, and she rolled her eyes up at the roof of the cab. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she muttered.

  “Savannah ...”

  Abruptly, she reached for the door of the cab and opened it. Immediately someone in a truck outside honked their horn. Before I could blink or catch a breath, she was out of the car and into the blistering heat.

  I slid after her but she slammed the door shut, then turned and began to trot away, darting in front of another car and then to the curb. Her back was straight as she walked; her head flung back, pride intact. But where was she going?

  The trunk of the cab was full of our luggage. And my cello. My seven hundred fifty thousand dollar cello, which I was not leaving alone in the cab.

  What was it she said yesterday? That this was the part where she walked away?

  “You’re paying her fare,” the driver demanded. Because now he could interrupt his damn phone call.

  Savannah was almost out of sight, walking along the curb. Soon she was gone entirely, around the corner of a building. And then the phone rang. Again.

  “What?” I snarled.

  “Gregory? It’s Joseph. Are you all right?”

  I coughed. Joseph McIntosh, our conductor.

  “I’m fine, Joseph. What’s going on?”

  “Where are you?”

  “In a cab on the way from the airport.”

  “Oh good! I needed to talk with you and Savannah.”

  I closed my eyes. “I’m afraid she’s not with me ... she um ... went separately. To take care of some errands.”

  “Damn,” he muttered. “Anyway, I’ll catch her later. Point is, reaction to last night’s show is out of this world. You two were fantastic, and the tour is nearly sold out for our paid shows. Absolutely amazing performance. It was inspired, and I’ve got no idea when you even had time to practice the changes with her.”

  I didn’t have a clue how to respond to that, so I didn’t. They weren’t my changes, and we hadn’t practiced.

  “Anyway,” he said, “we’re adding your duet to the show for the rest of the tour. You two will replace the first act after the intermission.”