by Holly Rayner
But then, he saw a face that made him feel as though he were already a part of the town.
“Alvin! Good to see you!”
The chef was out, walking arm in arm with a gray-haired woman he introduced as his wife. She seemed intent on thanking him effusively, which was the kind of thing that had been awkward early in Kehlan’s career, but which by now he was well used to.
“I barely did anything. I’m just glad that Alvin is feeling better.”
“Are you in town for long?” she asked.
Ah, there it was. That question. The question that everyone seemed to be carefully avoiding asking him. He’d spent nearly all of his time with Paige’s immediate family, none of whom seemed to want to open up this particular can of worms. But Alvin’s wife didn’t know any better, and had no compunction about it.
Alvin, however, seemed to sense better.
“Honey, let’s not keep them. Let the young people have their date. Though, if you get a chance, you should come down to George’s Bar.”
He looked at Paige, who seemed less than thrilled.
“Oh,” she said flatly. “Is that tonight?”
Kehlan looked down at her, intrigued.
“Is what tonight?”
She seemed hesitant to answer, but Alvin jumped in anyway.
“It’s the first open mic night of the season! A great way to meet people, if you’re planning on hanging around. It’s an institution around here.”
Alvin’s wife was tugging at his arm, giving him a knowing look.
“But we’ll let you get on with your date. Don’t come by if you don’t want to. I’m just saying, it’s a good time.”
And with that, they said their goodbyes. Alvin and his wife continued one way, while Kehlan and Paige headed in the other.
“So, I take it you’re not a fan of the open mic night?”
Paige seemed a little bit evasive, like she wasn’t sure she wanted to bother him with talking about it. But then, she conquered it, seeming to remember that talking about things like this was the point of going on dates.
“It’s not that I don’t like it…” she said, and then trailed off.
“What is it, then? Is Stockton full of terrible performers?”
Paige smiled, in spite of herself.
“No, it’s not that. Although, there are always a few more eighties soft rock covers than I would like.”
Kehlan squeezed her hand.
“So, then, if the music isn’t keeping you away, what is?”
“It’s just that I’m not much into public speaking. Or…public performing, I guess. And at these kinds of things, in the end, you always end up getting pulled up onstage. And sure, I could say no…technically. But I can’t really, can I?”
He knew this struggle, and he hated that she had to deal with it as well, even separated as she was from the world of public responsibilities.
“Oh, but you can,” he said, more insistently than he’d meant to. “And if you feel like you can’t, don’t worry. I’ll run interference. You’d be surprised how accustomed I am to having to crowd control.”
Even without seeing her face, nestled as she was, now, against his side, he could hear the playful smirk in her voice.
“Does that get issued with the crown?”
“Oh, am I supposed to have a crown? That must be where I’ve gone wrong. I’m sure I’d just love being a royal if they gave me something shiny to wear on my head.”
“Right, I’ll just write to them and tell them. All your problems solved. Either that, or I’ll just buy you a sequined fedora for your birthday. Same difference, right?”
He loved that about her—the way she could just make him laugh without even really seeming to try. The way she traveled with him on his flights of fancy.
“So, if I promise no one will pressure you into going onstage, do you want to go to George’s? Or is that still just not what you want this evening? Because I’m entirely in your hands, tour guide. I’ll go where you want and do what you want. Although, I might want to check the weather forecast first if you start dragging me towards any large bodies of water…”
He felt her lean into him and nod slowly beside him as they walked.
“Well, I guess we could make an appearance…”
Chapter 17
Paige
Open mic night at George’s. This was a blast from the past. Alvin had been right; it was an institution in Stockton, and one that Paige had actively enjoyed attending as a teenager. But then, Dylan had been born, and everything had changed. Suddenly, everyone had decided that since she was here to stay, she should have to participate, rather than just watch, and it shifted from a fun, weekly evening out to an event she actively avoided.
Like heading up to the slopes to go skiing, she hadn’t done it in years. But somehow, having Kehlan at her side made it seem different. And better. Even if she had to fight through a certain amount of hesitation as they drew closer to the bar.
As they walked in and found their place at a table near the back, Paige began to notice that the others in the place seemed to think it was different having Kehlan here, too. She knew most of the people here—with only a few exceptions that must be tourists sampling the local culture—and they had never been as interested in looking her direction as they were now.
“I didn’t realize I was coming here to show you off,” she whispered to Kehlan as they were settled in.
“Oh, you’re showing me off?” he asked, with mock surprise.
“You’re going to pretend you’re not noticing the looks.”
He pulled a dramatically sexy face.
“What looks?”
As Paige was laughing, she found herself leaning into Kehlan again, as she had in the street. She realized partway through doing so that it might seem protective, or possessive, considering all the attention they were getting. But, at the same time, the longer she spent with Kehlan, the less she felt that the opinions of anyone watching mattered. And, as he lifted his arm to wrap it around her shoulder and pull her in, she realized that she didn’t particularly care how it looked to those that were watching. Let them watch. Let them wonder.
The first song up was an older man playing an eighties soft rock cover, at which Paige and Kehlan exchanged a knowing glance. It wasn’t until the second song that people began coming over to them.
It felt weirdly like Paige would imagine a royal event would be, with different people coming up to pay their respects, speak politely, and then head back to their tables. Only, instead of paying respects, everyone was coming over to have a brief chat and meet the handsome man on Paige’s arm.
In general, the older the visitor, the more overt they were in asking if Kehlan was her boyfriend, and how they were getting along, and openly commenting on how handsome he was. Maybe there was an age when politely avoiding potentially awkward questions ceased to matter anymore. If there was, Paige couldn’t wait to get to it.
But aside from the very direct way that the older people talked to them, it became clear as more people visited that there was a variety of entertaining gossip-fueled theories about who Kehlan was and where he was from, and what he was here for. Paige was aware there had been some rumors about him, and the two of them began making a game of it, trying to piece together what kind of a person the rumors had turned him into.
Apparently, it was thought that he was a businessman who was very successful in Turkey. How the rumors were so wrong was a mystery, but it was entertaining, anyway. Though no one came out and stated their guesses, Kehlan remained deliberately vague about the specifics of his job.
“You’re playing with them?” Paige asked with a chuckle, after a clerk at the local grocery school went off, probably convinced that he was some kind of celebrity.
Kehlan shrugged.
“They make their assumptions. I’ve found over my life that a lot of people make assumptions. About me, or where I come from, or what I will or won’t be like because of it. It’ll drive you crazy if
you let it. It’ll make you change who you are just to prove them wrong. The best way to approach them, I’ve found, is not to take them too seriously.”
“You’re good at that, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Not taking things too seriously.”
There was a pause, and Paige wished she could pull the words back out of the air and stuff them down somewhere where they could do no more harm. She hadn’t meant them the way they sounded, and she certainly hadn’t meant to say them as bitingly as she had.
Mostly, she’d meant them as a compliment—she’d had a hard time for most of her life, trying to find a way to put what others thought in a context that would let her ignore it. But there was something else that had found its way in there, too. A simmering worry that the perfect week that they’d had would just disintegrate like morning mist when the light of day hits it. She was doing her best to set it aside, the way she’d promised herself that she would if she ever got the chance to see Kehlan again. She wanted to enjoy this as much as she could for as long as she could, the way she’d wished she had in his absence.
And yet, with her getting further and further into this, it became harder and harder to do. She was doomed either way, wasn’t she? There was no winning move.
But she didn’t want to ruin their date night. Especially if it might be their last. She tried to shrug off her own words and pivot away from it before he responded.
“It’s a handy skill to have with these folks, it seems.”
He hesitated for a moment, and Paige wondered if he might insist on talking about what she had said and what she’d been hinting at. A part of her wanted him to—wanted to settle the question of how long he would stay and how he could go, with the way things had been so perfect over the last week. But instead, Kehlan followed her lead and moved on. He kissed her neck, and then settled back to watch the current performer who had, blessedly, chosen a different decade for their song.
Paige thought the matter was settled, until the next person came up—ostensibly to say hi to Paige, but in reality to get a closer look at Kehlan. This time, it was Emma, another mother at Dylan’s school. She’d been in Stockton as long as Paige had, and if she were honest with herself, part of Paige was glad she was here, seeing her on the arm of such an attractive man.
There’d always been a bit of rivalry between them; it had all been friendly up until the day Kyle had left, and then suddenly there was a distinct distance between them. Like it was all well and good for them to compete when they were on the same level, but then, Paige was a ruined woman, and Emma hadn’t wanted much to do with a struggling single mother. If she were being more charitable, she’d think that maybe Emma had just backed off because she knew that the competition might be adding insult to injury. But as the years went by, the first explanation had felt more likely.
So, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Emma got around to obliquely hinting that she wasn’t going to ask about Kehlan’s business back home. But it was a surprise when, instead of dancing around the question and letting the person they were speaking to make whatever assumptions she wanted to, Kehlan addressed Emma’s insinuations directly.
“I’m a doctor. Nothing so interesting in that, I’m afraid,” he said simply.
Emma seemed shocked, causing Paige to wonder if she’d enjoyed thinking of her getting involved with an unsavory character from overseas. In any case, she couldn’t help but admit that the look on Emma’s face was priceless.
“A doctor?” she repeated, her voice seeming to search for something more salacious.
“Yes,” Paige answered, enjoying this. “He has a practice in Al-Derra, where he’s from. What was your specialty again, Kehlan?”
She liked the way Kehlan just accepted she was enjoying this and went with it.
“Well, I originally specialized in infectious diseases. But luckily, there isn’t too much of a call for that. I’ve ended up as a sort of general practitioner, just by default. Always had an interest in pediatrics, but haven’t gotten the chance to do much of it.”
Emma plastered a forced smile on her face as she straightened up and prepared to walk away.
“Oh, well, I’ll get out of your hair and let you enjoy the performance. Nice seeing you as always, Paige.”
Paige smiled.
“And you, Emma.”
It was funny, watching the news of Kehlan’s profession spread throughout the pub. The evening was in full swing, now. And, since it was the first event of the season, the place was packed.
Paige and Kehlan didn’t speak much, as they were both wrapped up in tracing the route of the rumor-killing truth as it made its way throughout the room. What was the phrase—a lie could make its way around the world while the truth was still lacing up its shoes? If that was the case, then Paige was at least grateful for the inequality, since it made it easier to observe. You could tell when the news was being passed on by the kind of intense look on people’s faces, followed by the furtive glances cast in Paige and Kehlan’s direction.
Paige couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and belonging at how many of those glances seemed approving. There were even a few older family friends whom she’d known for years who caught her gaze and gave her a nod or a wink.
But Kehlan’s true profession getting out there had a few more effects, as well. For one, the people who came over to say hello—some of them for the second time—seemed to be more interested in actually talking to Kehlan about himself. It was less of an indulgence of curiosity for people, it seemed, and more of a welcome into the town.
The other effect was something Paige figured she probably should have seen coming, but didn’t. Every person over the age of sixty in the room—which, since they were in Stockton, was a large proportion of the audience—seemed to have a question for the good doctor that of course they wouldn’t bother him with, but just what was his off-hand opinion? And should they be worried about this? Or should they make the trek all the way to the hospital two towns over to get this looked at?
For the first few times it happened, Paige apologized profusely after they’d left.
“There’s just no one in town they can bring these problems to, and many of them have a hard time getting all the way out there to see the doctor. Especially those that are on fixed incomes, with gas prices being the way they are, or that don’t have anyone to drive them.”
But Kehlan waved her off, saying it was no big deal, until her apologies began to become repetitive.
“You don’t need to apologize for them,” he said warmly, after yet another excuse. “I know that most of the time, this is a hassle for doctors. If you’re living in a big city, with a doctor’s office around every corner, and no excuse for people to try and get free labor out of you, then it’s just unnecessary. But for me, I spend enough time dealing with people who don’t have easy access to medical care, and I can’t count the number of times I wish that there had been someone around to at least tell them when it’s important to get something looked at, or when they can save their time and resources and just focus on eating better, or reducing stress.”
Just when she thought she was in as deep as she could go, Kehlan had found a way to draw her in further.
“And, besides,” he continued, “if someone had been around for Alvin to see earlier on, he might not have ended up collapsing the way he did. And who could say no to that?”
As he said it, he motioned over to where Alvin and his wife were dancing in that comfortable but careful way that elderly people often do. Paige laughed, and found herself swaying a little bit as well to the sounds of the jazzy piano player who had brought Alvin and his wife to their feet.
She almost asked Kehlan to dance, but before she could, she saw another elderly man with a slight limp was on his way over. So instead, she sat, and watched as Kehlan held another informal appointment at his bar-table practice, answering question after question over the ever-changing music from the stage.
She loved seeing him
like this. He was always confident, sure, but this was on another level. Beyond confident, he was gracious and comforting, and Paige couldn’t help but feel that, even as much as she might have loved an evening out dancing, or a night on the town just the two of them, an evening of him ingratiating himself with the entire town seemed like perfection.
But there was one more surprise left. What Paige thought was the final performer, a local guitarist who had been playing many of the same songs for as long as Paige had been alive, finished his set, and Paige began to gather her things to go.
“And now, I’ll be joined on stage by Kehlan, who has a song he’d like to sing for us. Kehlan, are your office hours finished now? Free for a song?”
Laughter arose from the crowd, but Paige looked at Kehlan incredulously.
“When did you even arrange that?” she whispered to him furtively, while he gently extricated himself from the comfortable, lightly entangled pose they’d been in for most of the night.
Kehlan winked.
“Maybe one day, I’ll tell you how I did it.”
And with that, he stood and headed towards the stage, while the guitarist began picking out a tune Paige couldn’t quite place.
On stage, Kehlan picked up the mic.
“Hello Stockton!” he announced, sounding every bit like a rock star, all the charisma that he could only have been born with shining through. “It’s been great meeting so many of you tonight. Without further ado, this song is for a woman you all know and love, Paige.”
Paige felt herself blush, even as she was caught up in the music. She’d forgotten, after all this time, the curiosity she’d had the first time she’d heard Kehlan speak, over whether he was a musician or not. Those questions were answered. The man was talented.
And though he turned to her at various points during the song, and sang right to her, he kept his word and never once attempted to get her to join him up on stage. But when a group at the table nearest her suggested it, she found herself moving before her usual doubts and nerves even had a chance to surface.