Someone Like You

by Victoria Bylin

  Julia rolled her eyes. “I’ll leave saving the world to you.”

  Zeke was about to suggest they go inside when Julia stood on her toes and took another envelope out of the box. This one had his name on it in her writing.

  Her mouth fell open and she laughed. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Valentine’s Day.” The only card she ever gave him, because his birthday was in late July.

  Stepping back, he watched her read what she’d written—a poem about love being just for now because no one knew what tomorrow held. At the time he’d choked up, both because she loved him and because the sentiment was so far from his Christian faith. Then there was the line about his smile lighting up her heart like a thousand suns. Bad poetry? Definitely. But he had treasured it even more for its sincerity.

  Reading the inscription now, she groaned. “This is too cheesy for words. Burn it. Please!”

  He snatched it from her. “No way.”

  “But it’s awful!”

  Zeke gave her a cheeky grin. “Let’s just say poetry isn’t your strong suit.”

  “You know”—she propped her hands on her hips—“the card you gave me was just as mushy.”

  He remembered that card in all its painful glory, both the picture of a young couple holding hands and what he’d written. I love you, Jules, and I always will. You’ve changed my life in beautiful ways. He had struggled with what to say then, and he was struggling now.

  The silence returned with a roar, thickening until she let her arms fall to her sides. “That was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”

  “We were different people.”

  “Yes,” she said, confident now. “But do you want to know something?”

  “Sure.”

  Her mouth lifted into a faint smile. “Cheesy poetry aside, I admired you then, and I do now. You put others first, always. You go the extra mile even when it costs you something. A lot has changed in our lives, but you’re still Glitter Man to me.”

  So spill your guts, Glitter Man. Tell her you lost your faith. But he didn’t want to be a cynic to her, not when her own faith was so new.

  He tried to close the flaps of the box, but Julia turned and peered inside again. “Let’s see what else we can dig up.”

  Zeke didn’t want to dig up anything. But she reached into the box before he could stop her and pulled out a box set of The Lord of the Rings movies.

  “We watched these together, all three at once with the Bread on the Water crowd. That was fun.”

  Not for him. Knowing he was sinning by sleeping with her and lying about it, he’d been riddled with guilt through all three movies.

  Julia might be enjoying this jog down memory lane, but Zeke was squirming. It was impossible to stop the excavation, so he quickly shoveled out the remaining college shirts and old books.

  To his dismay, one of those books was his Bible. He tried to slide it under the T-shirts, but Julia glimpsed the worn black leather cover, complete with his full name embossed in gold. The Bible had been a gift from his parents for his sixteenth birthday.

  “Your Bible . . .”

  “Yeah.” He left the book on the workbench with the rest of the stuff, including the candle with its burned wick. There was a lot of history in those two items. A lot of failure on his part—a battle waged, lost, and declared pointless. His personal Vietnam.

  Julia riffled through the pages he’d marked up with colored pencils, then looked into his eyes. “It seems strange that you packed this away.”

  Zeke shrugged. “I was moving. You know how it is.”

  “But you carried this Bible everywhere.”

  She sounded doubtful and rightly so. He’d just lied to her, but he didn’t want to confess he’d lost his faith out of fear that he’d disillusion her.

  He aimed his chin toward the door. “Let’s go inside. I’m thirsty.”

  Her face softened and she gave a little shrug. “It’s been a rough day for both of us. How about we go inside and work on finding a photographer? Ginger gave me a new lead.”

  Relief settled into those deep cracks he couldn’t seem to fill. It was just like Jules to know he needed a break and to give it to him. “That’s sounds good. I take it the local guy didn’t impress you?”

  She made a face. “Sorry, but he’s Mr. Boring. All grip-and-grin and Last Supper poses. We need someone with a flare for romance.”

  She headed to the SUV, fetched her portfolio with her computer tablet, and followed him into the kitchen.

  While he pulled bottles of water from the fridge, she wandered into the spacious living room with its beamed cathedral ceiling. “This is a far cry from your place in Berkeley, isn’t it?”

  “Light years.” Eager to return to less sensitive topics, he carried the water bottles to the coffee table. “Let’s see this photographer Tiff likes.”

  Julia dropped onto the couch and retrieved her tablet from her purse. Zeke sat next to her, and they checked out Hot Pink Photography, a boutique studio run by Chelsea Robertson, a woman with a flamboyant pink stripe in her auburn hair.

  “She does great work,” Zeke remarked when Julia finished skimming the galleries. “Is she available?”

  “Yes. She’s waiting to hear from me, but what about George? Do you think I should send him the link?”

  “Forget it,” Zeke said. “He’ll leave it to Ginger. Besides, I have a hunch he’s nowhere near a computer right now.”

  Ellen thought George’s den was a charming mix of a movie theater, a museum, and a cozy home. Four recliners complete with cup holders faced a monster-sized flat-screen TV, and the walls were decorated with memorabilia from his career. The touch of home came from the Sherpa blanket he draped over her legs at the start of Rooster Cogburn, which he suggested because it starred John Wayne and Katharine Hepburn.

  She sat in one of the middle recliners with a Diet Coke in hand. George was in the seat next to her, stretched out with his cowboy boots crossed at the ankles. When the closing credits rolled, she let out a contented sigh. “Good movie.”

  “It’s a favorite.” He turned off the DVR, stood, and offered his hand to help her up. When she took it and maneuvered to her good foot, he held on even tighter. “How would you like the ten-cent tour?”

  “I’d love it.”

  “Good, because there’s something in particular I want to show you.”

  When she reached for her crutches, he offered his elbow. “It’s crowded over there. Can you manage if you hold on to me?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  Fearing a hot flash, she curled her fingers around his arm. He tucked his free hand over hers and led her to a wall decorated with album cover art and gold and platinum records. When Ellen commented on particular songs, George told her stories about writing or recording them. He also shared the history of the five guitars on the wall, including the first one he ever owned.

  “I’m impressed,” she told him.

  “Don’t be. Not by all this. It just about killed me.”

  She tightened her grip on his elbow, leaning on him but also inviting him to lean on her.

  Another wall displayed dozens of photographs, and he guided her to it. “What I want you to see is over here.”

  In the middle of the glitz and gloss, she spotted the dull beige of a framed newspaper article. The headline read, Country Icon Jailed for Drunken Crash. Ellen knew the story, but she skimmed the article anyway. No one was hurt, but he’d been belligerent with the police and swung his fists.

  George stared hard at the headline. “There it is. My ticket to rehab. It’s the most important thing on this wall.”

  Ellen squeezed his elbow again. It was all she had to give. “I remember reading about it.”

  “To this day, I’m amazed I didn’t kill someone.”

  “Or yourself.”

  “That too. Back then I didn’t much care if I lived or died. My career was in the tank. Ginger wouldn’t have anything to do with me. Instead of earning money, I w
as blowing it on fast cars, fast women, and bad habits. Caliente Springs wouldn’t be in the hurt locker now if I’d been smarter.”

  Ellen couldn’t help but think of Ben. He’d invested wisely, and she was grateful for the financial security. As for drinking, he had enjoyed a beer on a hot day, but that was all. She appreciated his temperance, but she wasn’t about to condemn George. “It made you who you are today.”

  “True. But that colorful past of mine has consequences, ones I feel to this day. Like guilt over ruining Ginger’s singing career. That woman is a canary, I tell you. I made amends to her when I got sober and she forgave me, but there were a lot of years in between our last album and that apology.”

  “She tried to go solo, didn’t she?”

  “For a while, yes. But her little brother with his big voice and bad habits stole the headlines and the airplay.”

  “Did she hate you for it?”

  “I wish it had been that simple.” His chin lifted as if he expected a slap. “She was determined to ‘help’ me. If you know anything about drunks, we don’t take kindly to being helped. I was awful to her. She quit music altogether and focused on Caliente Springs until she got married. When that ended, she focused on her friends and working with animal charities.”

  “I don’t want to be nosy, but what happened to her marriage?”

  George patted her hand. “You can be as nosy as you want. You’re my friend, Ellen.”

  She liked the sound of friend. Her ankle hurt, so she leaned more heavily on George. A picture of the Travers Twins at an awards show caught her eye. “What trouble did Ginger have?”

  “Her husband left her after ten years. They just sort of fell apart. No kids, but she wanted them.”

  “That’s hard.” Ellen ached for Ginger. She was also curious about George. “You never married, did you?”

  “Me? No. Never.”

  Ellen chuckled. “That was emphatic.”

  George laughed with her. “I could joke and say no woman in her right mind would have me, but the truth is, I was married to my career. I cheated on that too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had a love affair with Tennessee whiskey. There were women too. But in the end, those times were as empty as the JD bottles I polished off.”

  “JD?”

  “Jack Daniels.” He scrubbed his jaw with his long fingers. “My former best friend until I met the Lord Jesus Christ. It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? Because of Jack, I meet Jesus.” His wide mouth quirked into a sly grin. “That sounds like a song lyric.”

  “Write it.”

  “I just might do that. I’m a drunk and always will be, but God gave me a new life. I thank Him for it every day.”

  “I thank Him too. For—” Ben and the kids. She bit her tongue. It seemed wrong to mention Ben with George so close.

  He turned his head, seeking her gaze when she wanted to hide. “You were going to say that you thank God for your marriage and your children.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s okay, Ellen. You can talk to me about Ben. He’s part of who you are, just like this wall is part of me. I regret a lot of the things I did, but when I stand up and speak in church or at an AA meeting, folks listen because I’ve been where they are.”

  “You’re the real deal.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “And so are you. We have some hard miles on us.”

  “And a lot of them too.”

  She and George both had more years behind them than lay ahead. No one lived forever, and nothing on earth hurt as much as losing someone you loved. Ellen couldn’t face that pain again, and she wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially someone she cared about.

  With her chin high, she stepped back from the wall. “It’s getting late. I should head home.”

  “One more thing.” George turned enough to face her without releasing his grip on her elbow. “As much as I enjoy watching old movies with you, I think it’s time we went on a real date.”

  “Oh—”

  “I hope you’ll say yes, because I have something special in mind.”

  Her mouth must have been gaping, because George touched her chin with his knuckle and closed it for her.

  “I’m doing a show in San Jose next Friday. It’s a fundraiser for Home and Hearth. You know I’m on the board of directors.”

  “Yes. Julia mentioned it.”

  “We’d drive up in the morning and spend the night. Two rooms, just to be clear. What do you say?”

  Yes . . . No . . . Yes. The words sawed on her vocal cords until she thought of what Julia had whispered in her ear before she left with Zeke. “Be brave, Mom.”

  That was easy for Julia to say. She was only twenty-eight. God willing, she’d fall in love, get married, and live a long time. God willing. Ellen didn’t use those words lightly. No one knew what tomorrow held, or even what the next hour would bring. All anyone truly had on this earth was now, this moment.

  Fear and courage played tug-of-war in her heart, until courage won and she turned to George. “I’d love to go with you.”

  That famous grin flashed on his face. “Well, good.”

  Humming one of his own songs, he steered her back to the recliner, picked up her crutches, and carried them in one hand. She retrieved her purse, and they walked arm-in-arm to her car. Julia had driven earlier, but Ellen was certain she could manage the short drive to the cottage.

  George’s thick brows collided over his nose. “You shouldn’t drive with your ankle. I’ll take you home and walk back.”

  “No. I can manage.” The mild sprain was healing fast.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Frowning, he propped his hands on his hips. “You really do have some Katharine Hepburn in you.”

  Pleased, she leaned the crutches against the car and took the keys out of her purse. She opened her mouth to say good- night, saw George watching her, and froze.

  If she gave him a sign, he’d kiss her. She wanted that magic moment to happen, but then she smelled the grass and thought of lawn mowers. And when she thought of lawn mowers, she pictured Ben in their front yard, cutting grassy diamonds because she liked how they looked.

  Angry tears flooded her eyes. She’d always love Ben, but she was tired of missing him. For once she wanted pedal-to-the-metal excitement, but that was crazy. And risky. Trembling, she looked down at her feet.

  Drawing her close, George tucked her head under his chin. “There’s no rush, Ellen. None at all.”

  No rush? What about the rush in her blood? The rush of desire affirming she was female, alive, and maybe not over the hill.

  He held her tighter. “Don’t say anything. You’ll know when it’s right, and it’s not right tonight.”

  She almost laughed. “That sounds like a bad country song.”

  “Or a good one.”

  Easing out of his arms, she managed a watery smile. “Do you know how amazing you are?”

  “I’m a real gem,” he said with his tongue planted firmly in his cheek.

  “You’re solid gold. And you have the records to prove it.”

  “Don’t forget the platinum ones.” He winked at her, then opened the car door and stepped back.

  Ellen climbed into the car and backed out of the driveway, but before turning down the street, she peered through the windshield. George stood in the headlights, a silhouette with one hand raised high in a kind of salute.

  He was right about that first kiss. She wasn’t ready, but she wanted to be. A shopping trip for the perfect outfit seemed like a good place to start.

  “Look out, George Travers,” she said out loud. “Because I’m going to knock you into next week.”

  twenty

  Everything Julia did with Hunter was a minefield, and being in church was no different. He liked to sit on the aisle and always took it, so when Ellen asked him to scoot to the middle of the pew, he hesitated.

  Julia kept her voice low. “It makes sense. Ge
orge is singing today. He’ll join us in the middle of the service.”

  Hunter’s mouth opened, but he closed it and moved to the center of the bench. She felt a little sorry for him. Courtesies that came easily to most people upset him.

  Julia followed Max, and the three of them sat in a row. She’d been up half the night thinking about Hunter and had reached a conclusion. She had moved on with her life, and he needed to accept that fact. Maybe, if he gave up the false hope that she’d go back to him, he’d call off Uncle Maury. She needed to speak to him after the service. He was leaving for LA immediately, so she and Max were riding back with George and Ellen. The minute she arrived back at the cottage, she planned to call Zeke with whatever information she gleaned.

  The worship team took the stage, the lights dimmed, and the chords of a song about love never failing echoed in the sanctuary. Tears pushed into Julia’s eyes. What she believed now about love was a lifetime away from that cheesy Valentine. After another song, George walked out with his guitar and sang a boisterous version of “I’ll Fly Away.” The congregation caught fire, but it was Ellen’s smile, untouched by grief and a testament to grace, that brought fresh tears to Julia’s eyes.

  When George finished, the minister stepped to the podium. “Let’s open our Bibles to Daniel, chapter six.”

  Julia set her Bible in her lap and thumbed through the pages but couldn’t find the book of Daniel. That happened to her all the time, but she preferred a hard-copy Bible to an app. At moments like this, she envied Zeke and his life-long exposure to God’s Word.

  For the next half hour, the pastor talked about Daniel in the lions’ den. Julia silently asked God for a Daniel-like faith, because though Hunter wasn’t a lion, she felt trapped by his personality. She soaked in every word until the final “Amen.”

  With George in the lead, the five of them made their way out of the sanctuary. After Hunter said his good-byes to the others, including a big hug with Max, he turned to Julia.

  She wanted to be in control, so she spoke first. “I need to get Max’s backpack. I’ll walk you to your car.”