A Song of Forgiveness

by Lillian I Wolfe

  She cried, I cried—that’s how it worked. We hugged each other tightly, tears flowing on both sides, and I promised I wouldn’t leave her out of my traumas ever again.

  After another few minutes, we wiped our eyes, got out a couple of bottled waters, and resumed the trip to wherever Janna was taking me.

  She exited the freeway in Roseville, then made another turn south, taking us down toward the Fulton area until she pulled into a motel there, one of the ones that provided chocolate chip cookies and breakfast to their guests.

  Our room sported a pair of double beds and a small dining table with two chairs that sat in front of a large window. I peered through it at the view of the promised swimming pool that wasn’t quite open yet. In fact, it stood empty of water, completely drained for the winter.

  “Okay, so it’s not that warm here, yet,” Janna noted as she peered over my shoulder. “We didn’t come to swim anyway, right?”

  “Right. So what’s on the agenda now?”

  “Did you bring the cocktail dress I suggested?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

  I nodded.

  “Then let’s get changed. I’m showering first!” She grabbed her weekender and dashed into the bathroom.

  I chuckled and pulled out the emerald green cocktail dress I’d brought. I usually wore it at St. Patrick’s day, but it was the most glittery one I had. I shook it out watching the sequins and sparkles shimmer as they caught the afternoon light. What on earth did Janna have planned?

  A HUGE SPREAD OF APPETIZERS, fruit, pâtés, and assorted cheeses drew my hungry attention to them as soon as we were shown to the party at the Linden Hillcrest Winery. Janna, the sneaky little thing, had an invitation to a private party hosted by the winery owner, who wanted to set up an event in Reno at her hotel. She’d seized it as a perfect opportunity for a get-away.

  I picked up a plate and began filling it, taking little samples of almost everything. I fell in love with a vegetable pâté, each slice showing several colorful layers that included pureed and pressed carrots, tomatoes, eggplant, and a couple of things I couldn’t identify, and I put two slices on my plate. All the dishes looked like they had been crafted by a Cordon Bleu chef.

  Behind the table, the patio overlooked a spectacular view of the valley where hundreds of grapevines covered the rolling hillsides. On the nearest vines, I saw small green buds hinting at spring and giving a light, hazy-green hue to the scene. A fresh scent of moisture from the recent rain added to the pleasure and for a moment, I imagined myself in France on a similar hill. All I needed was my handsome date instead of Janna standing beside me. No offense to her.

  “Magnificent, isn’t it?” she said and sipped at the wine, one of the several varieties the winery produced.

  “It is. This was inspired, Janna. Thanks for bringing me.”

  She clicked her glass against mine, “To best friends and soul sisters.”

  “Indeed,” I replied, tipping my glass back at hers. “Forever.”

  We sipped, we ate, and we wandered around chatting with strangers and comparing opinions on the food and wine. Janna introduced me to the owner, and our host, Jeffrey Linden, who was a charming man in his mid-fifties, I figured. In turn, he presented us to his wife, whose name I promptly forgot, but she was a trim, attractive woman with a deep tan and streaked blond hair.

  Then Janna dropped a little bomb.

  “Gillian is a terrific singer,” she announced, placing her hand on my shoulder as she spoke. I narrowed my eyes, shooting daggers at her. What was she doing?

  That sparked an unexpected interest in me as Linden asked, “Really? What type of music do you sing?”

  “A variety,” I answered, putting on a professional smile. “I perform at many events and private parties, so I have a broad repertoire.”

  “Do you sing blues or standards?” he asked, snagging a bottle of wine from a passing waiter’s tray and refilling my glass with one of his top brands.

  “A little, yes. I don’t get many requests for it.”

  “She has a deep, sultry voice,” Janna inserted and held her glass up for more.

  Linden looked me over, then glanced toward a grand piano set up under the patio overhang. “I sometimes use musicians, especially soloists, for my special parties. Would you care to audition for me?”

  “Now?” I blurted, surprised by it.

  “Why not? You do play the piano, don’t you? Or you could sing a capella, I suppose.” His voice teased, but I wasn’t so keen on his attitude.

  I collected my thoughts. “I suppose I could, but I’ll warn you that you might not be able to afford my services. I’d have to come in from Reno.”

  He cracked a grin, then escorted me over to the piano.

  I sat down, ran my fingers over the keys, then played a few chords to listen to the tuning. It was fine and had a beautiful tone, rich as only a grand could have. Thinking about the blues choices I was comfortable with, I went with a standard, “Blue Moon”. Once in my teens, I recalled hearing a recording of Julie London singing it and I was enthralled by her rich contralto voice and beautiful phrasing. I’d used that as the basis for the version I played now.

  With no microphone or amplification, I was strictly unplugged and relying on the power of my voice and playing to project to anyone to hear it. To my astonishment, the acoustics were better than I imagined and after the first few introductory phrases on the piano, people hushed to listen as I started singing. I poured my heart into the song, the words resonating with me in a way I hadn’t experienced before as Ferris came to my mind. What had I done? Could it be repaired?

  As I finished up, the applause was generous and I waved and smiled. I started to rise as Linden came over, “One more?”

  I gazed up at him, raising an eyebrow. Was he expecting a free concert because he fed me? His lips formed a small smile as he added, “Just one. For my wife. She loves ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco’. Do you know it?”

  I thought a moment. I hadn’t sung it in a long time and I wasn’t sure I could remember all the lyrics, but I glimpsed his wife looking our way, a curious look on her face. “Okay. Just for your wife.”

  As soon as I started the opening bars of music, Linden strolled over to take his wife’s hand, pulling her into the middle of the patio for a dance. My heart lifted as I watched them dancing as the sun began to set over a magical view. I couldn’t help but think she was a lucky woman to have a husband who clearly adored her, a gorgeous home, and this fabulous view.

  When I finished this time, I rose from the piano and gave a brief bow before starting back to join Janna. Linden interrupted me, “Very nice and I like your voice. Do you have—”

  I popped one of my business cards out of my clutch bag before he finished the question. “That’s my agent’s phone number.” I smiled back, then resumed my path.

  Janna handed me another glass of wine and we went to sit at a round wrought iron table to watch the sun dip below the distant mountains. Toward the west, the sky appeared hazy, the colors blending into subdued hues like a painting by Renoir.

  “I really needed this break,” I told her as I closed my eyes and enjoyed the gentle breeze.

  “Me, too. We should do this more often.” Janna’s voice sounded drowsy.

  “Hey, don’t drift off on me. Aren’t you the DD today?”

  She shook her head, held up the wine glass, and said, “Too late for that. Are you sober?”

  “Not hardly,” I replied. If I stopped now, found some coffee, and we still had a couple of hours, I might be up for it. Oh, well, there were always alternatives...cab, floor, sleeping in the car.

  THE UBER DRIVER DROPPED us back at our motel, handed me her card, and I told her we’d call when we were ready to go back to the winery in the morning to get the car. Janna was barely stable on her feet and I wasn’t much help in holding her up as we made our way back to the room.

  Once inside, we both collapsed onto the same bed, the nearest one and giggled like we
were twelve. It had been an amazing evening, relaxing, and fun. Now we were just two inebriated, giggly girls. After some time had passed, I pulled myself up, removed my heels, and stumbled into the bathroom. I washed my face, changed into my pajamas, and made a pot of coffee.

  Following my lead, Janna struggled to her feet and did the same thing, except for the coffee. By the time she returned to sit at the small table in the room, I’d drunk half a cup and was beginning to slip to melancholy.

  She picked up the cup I’d made for her and took a sip, making a face. “That’s ruining the taste of my wine.”

  “It’s better than the aftertaste you’ll have tomorrow,” I said, my voice sounding rough. “I drank too much.”

  “Maybe, but who counted?”

  “Janna, I really screwed up with Ferris.” Was this the best time to confess? Probably not. But when do we do things at the best time?

  “What do you mean?”

  “I really, really like him. I always have, but when we tried to date in college, it was so bad. It just didn’t work and we were better as friends. So, I’ve kept him in that friend box. Then the thing happened with Roger and Ferris stepping in to defend me. After that, it began to change.”

  Janna blinked at me, her eyes unfocused. “How?”

  “He’s been more open about his feelings. More wanting more than a friendship...”

  “I told you that, but you didn’t want to believe.” Her voice slurred.

  “I know. And I didn’t see it until recently. Meanwhile, there’s been Gavin back in my life and suddenly, we’re no longer teacher and student.”

  “Has he made a pass?” She sounded indignant or maybe just drunk.

  “He’s flirted, and maybe, yeah, he did. He kissed me a few days ago, but that was all. We were excited about this skill I have... So he kissed me. No biggie, right? Except it was electric.”

  “Huh? Maybe.” She frowned and took another gulp of coffee.

  “Then the other day I was with Ferris and he kissed me and it curled my toes. I don’t remember him affecting me that way before. I was so hot and wanting him and we were making out like a pair of teenagers. And then... I said Gavin’s name.” I felt the tears well in my eyes. How could I have done that when I wasn’t even thinking about him?

  “What!” Janna’s head came up and her eyes rolled at me. “You did what?”

  Tears started flowing down my cheeks and I fought a choked sob back. “I don’t know why it came out and I don’t know how to fix it. Ferris is so angry with me, I know it. And I don’t know...”

  Janna jumped out of her chair, nearly tipping it over and came round to hug me. “Oh, hunny, it’s not the end of the world.”

  I sobbed on her shoulder, certain that I’d ruined anything I’d ever had with Ferris. Even if he forgave me, it would never be the same.

  And I’d left him alone with my precious cat this weekend. What was I thinking? No, he wouldn’t hurt Nygard. Or would he?

  Pulling away from Janna’s hold, I scrambled to pick up my phone and sent a text: Is Nygard ok?

  My eyes focused on the time, ten-forty-eight. Maybe a little too late to be texting him. But I needed to know. He wouldn’t hurt him, I was sure.

  I waited anxiously for his reply, not even hearing what Janna was saying to me. Finally, she sat in front of me, put her hands alongside my face and stared right into my eyes.

  “Just tell me you haven’t slept with Gavin.”

  “What? No. Not even close. Why would you ask?”

  “Why did you say his name then?”

  “Crap! I don’t know. I don’t even remember saying it. I murmured something and Ferris backed off, then told me I said it.” I looked at her in befuddlement.

  “Maybe he made it up,” Janna said. “Maybe he was testing you and wanted to see your reaction.”

  “You’re drunk and that’s ridiculous.”

  My phone buzzed and I pressed the text message icon, relieved to see it was from Ferris.

  He’s fine. Don’t worry.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and sank into the pillows behind me.

  I’m drunk. I sent back for no real reason.

  The phone buzzed again: Good. Sleep it off.

  It was short, but it didn’t sound annoyed or angry, so maybe he wasn’t as upset with me as I thought he was. He was right about sleeping it off though. Time to do that.

  Easier said than done. Another hour, give or take, passed before Janna quit talking and finally dropped off to sleep.

  My sleep was restless as I tossed and turned, a side effect of my drinking. Once I settled in, I began to have fragment dreams, little clips of past events drifting in. My unconscious mind dredged up a few good ones and a few bad ones from my childhood. The day my dad announced he was leaving to go to Australia and probably wouldn’t be back for years, if ever. I remembered sobbing that I wouldn’t see him. I adored my dad, not aware at the time that I was only an interruption in his life plan.

  Then, clear as a bell...

  I stood in a snow-covered field with nothing else around me. No footprints in the snow, not even any leading to where I stood. The sky hung low with dark gray clouds that promised more snow would be falling. I turned into a slow circle, peering across the field looking for any landmarks or any kind but there was nothing in the limbo-like setting.

  Puzzled, I stood there, waiting.

  It seemed like a long time that I didn’t move. Eventually, I called out a hello, listening for a response or an echo. Nothing. What was this place?

  Then I heard a sound behind me, a crunch of a footstep in the snow, and I turned toward it.

  I shrieked and jumped back a few feet. The figure that stood nearly on top of me looked like a walking snowman with a heavy layering of caked snow on him. I gaped as I struggled to identify what or who I was facing. The eyes blinked away the icy crystals from the lashes and I gasped.

  “Roger?!”

  The walking snowman blinked again as he lifted a snow-encrusted arm toward me.

  I cried out and sat up in my bed, my heart pounding as I processed what I’d seen. At that moment, I knew, beyond a doubt that Roger was dead and he was somewhere under a mound of snow.

  In the next bed, Janna stirred and lifted her head. “Gilly, did’ya say something?” she slurred out.

  “Sorry. It’s nothing. Go back to sleep,” I whispered.

  She made an agreeable sound and rolled away from me.

  The dream had given me a clearer impression than the flash drive I’d read, which had been more of a feeling. But even in this dream, I had no idea where he was. Crazy stalker or no, I felt bad that his life had ended that way.

  I glanced at the desk clock. Five-thirty-four... too early to get up and I didn’t think I could go back to sleep now.

  AFTER JANNA WOKE AND we got breakfast, we called for our Uber driver to return to the vineyard to retrieve Janna’s Malibu. As we waited for our ride to arrive, I told her about the latest dream as well as the reading I’d done for Moss.

  “Oh, my gosh, that is too weird,” she said. For someone who actually believed in spirits and the paranormal, her reactions to having it so close were in the freaked-out zone. “How can you possibly have a connection with him?”

  “Well, I did know him. He certainly had fantasies about me. Maybe it was enough that his spirit could contact me in a dream. If it came from Roger and he’s buried under snow, that might explain why I couldn’t see any landmarks.”

  Janna shivered as I talked about it.

  “Never mind,” I said. “Let’s talk about the plan for today. What do you have in mind to do before we head back home?”

  She brightened at once. “There’s lots of great little stores and shops in the area. Why don’t we go into a couple of the small towns and look around?”

  Shopping... I might have guessed. But she was right that the area had some great goldmine-era towns that featured touristy craft shops and unique shopping. “Sounds good.”

&nbs
p; I spotted our ride coming and we headed out to the parking lot. “So, tell me, girlfriend, did you set that little audition with Linden up?”

  She turned her eyes to me and blinked innocently, “Why would you think that?”

  “Because it seemed a little too staged. But if you thought you were landing me a job—”

  “Nonsense.” She reached to open the door to the car and motioned me in.

  By mid-afternoon, we had shopped in a cute little town called Coloma, bought a couple of handmade knickknacks and had a great lunch at a small, family-owned café that made terrific pies.

  Now, as we headed back to Reno, I sent a text to Ferris, allegedly to check on Nygard.

  He’s fine. Anxious for you to come home. Ferris’ response said.

  Will you be there? I replied. I’d like to talk.

  His reply took so long I was beginning to think he was just going to ignore it when the phone finally buzzed again. The answer was brief: Maybe

  My hopes dropped a little as I bit my lower lip. At least he hadn’t said no.

  TEN

  When I pulled my Jeep up into the driveway, I spotted Ferris’ van parked on the street, so I knew he’d waited for me. With a sigh of relief, a new tension settled into my chest. Now, I had to figure out what to say to him fast. I’d had the whole drive back to run scenarios in my mind and anticipate his reactions to my explanations and I’d come up with practically nothing. How could I possibly explain why I’d blurted out Gavin’s name while we were making out?

  Swallowing down my nerves, I grabbed my bag and went inside. Ferris sprawled on the sofa, watching a football game on his mobile phone, while Nygard stretched out alongside him. As soon as my cat noticed me, he jumped down, raced across the floor, and leaped into my arms, giving me a welcome home meow.

  “Welcome back,” Ferris said, barely glancing my way.

  “You could watch that on the TV upstairs,” I said.

  He nodded. “I know. But that didn’t feel quite as comfy.”