It was Susan’s favorite scene and the woman was spoiling it. Even when Rick stopped Sam from playing and spied Elsa sitting beside him, the woman continued to vocalize loudly.
Susan was about to turn around and shush her, when she realized the woman wasn’t singing “As Time Goes By.” She was warbling a Beatles song instead.
“Listen, do you want to know a secret?” she sang.
At that moment, a wave of longing for Caroline passed through Susan, almost as if the old woman were there, her voice in Susan’s ear, her warm hand on her own. She quickly rose from her seat. She didn’t want to skip the radio show, not even for one night.
“Gee, sorry,” said the woman behind her when she spied Susan hurrying down the aisle. “I thought I was alone in the theater. I’ll stop singing. Isn’t it nutty how certain songs get stuck in your head? Although I don’t know how come I was singing that particular song; I hadn’t heard it in a while.”
“It’s okay,” Susan said. “I just realized there’s something I need to do.”
She hustled back to the hotel, flew up the stairs, and switched on the radio. The program had just begun. A young woman was talking about her boyfriend, who’d recently dumped her. “I’m going loco, Minerva. I keep driving by his house and calling him on his cell. He’s like heroin.”
Susan nodded in recognition as she climbed up on the sunken mattress. She turned off the lamp and clutched the hotel’s foam pillow to her stomach. Her mother had been obsessed with her father, letting his memory eat away at her liver and her life. And what had Susan done to herself because of her own addiction to her fiancé?
That’s one dark alley in my mind I hope I never have to visit, she thought. She listened to several more sob stories and their accompanying love songs. Someone had requested a Kenny G number, and the soft droning of the saxophone worked on her like a glass of warm milk. She was nearly asleep when someone screamed, “No money down with three percent financing! You heard me right. No money down.” Susan startled awake. The clock radio’s reception was poor, and sometimes other stations would bleed over into the Minerva show. The car commercial faded and was replaced by Minerva’s silky voice.
“I have Alone in Atlanta on the phone,” Minerva said. “Hello, Alone. It’s been such a long time. We’ve missed you.”
“Thank you, Minerva. It’s nice to be back.”
Alone in Atlanta? Susan propped herself up on her elbow. She’d heard that name before; she was certain of it.
“I hope you’re calling to tell us your girlfriend came back.”
“I wish that were true,” said the caller. His voice was a rich baritone and it caused an unexpected shiver to pass through Susan’s torso. “I’m calling because I have reason to believe she might be listening to the show this very minute.”
“That’s wonderful, Alone. What would you like to say to her? Her name was Susan, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” A pause. “She’s an animal behaviorist, and her favorite candy is Hershey’s Kisses.”
“Oh my God,” Susan said, sitting upright. Who was this caller?
“Okay,” Minerva said. “What’s your message to Susan?”
“I failed her,” he said in a halting voice. “She was a sleeping beauty for a very long time. I should have been there to give her an awakening kiss.”
Susan gasped. He was talking about her. He sounded so genuine, and his voice was so familiar and dear, like a song on the tip of her tongue. Warmth rushed through her. She belonged to someone!
“I hope Susan hears you,” Minerva said.
“Or Emily,” replied the caller. “She might still be going by that name.”
Susan’s jaw hardened. Obviously the caller had known her in Birmingham. Was he the reason she’d turned to drugs? And why hadn’t he ever visited her?
“That’s very romantic, Alone,” Minerva said. “Do you have a song you want me to play for her?”
“How about ‘Somewhere Out There’?”
Fear rippled through Susan’s body. This man was part of her past—unspeakable parts she never wanted to recall. Turn off the radio and forget you ever heard his voice, she thought. Obviously he still had some residual power over her, or her heart wouldn’t have leaped at the sound of his voice. Something awful had happened between them. Something she didn’t want to know. She reached across the lamp table.
“You got it,” Minerva said.
Her hand fumbled for the off button, but she couldn’t find it in the dark. She located the cord trailing out of the back and was about to give it a yank when Minerva said, “Wait!”
Susan’s fingers froze on the cord. It was almost as if the radio host was addressing her.
“Every once in a while I get this little voice in my head that tells me what to do,” Minerva said. “And sometimes I even listen. My voice is telling me that’s the wrong song for you, Alone. I’ve got something better.”
“Whatever you think is best, Minerva,” the caller said softly. “I trust you.”
“Good,” Minerva said. “This is for you, Susan or Emily or whoever you are. I hope you’re listening. And if you are, call the show at 1-800-OURLOVE and we’ll help you to get in touch with Alone in Atlanta.”
Susan tensed her back muscles, waiting for the song, although she didn’t know why. It hardly mattered what song Minerva chose; she was never getting in touch with Alone in Atlanta.
“All you is need love” flowed from the radio, loud and clear, without a hint of static. “Love is all you need.”
Her entire body trembled as she listened to the song in its entirety. Slowly, her fears, which had hung in her mind heavy and thick as thunderclouds, were pushed aside by a voice whispering in her ear, “Don’t you worry, lamb. He’s safe. Call him. He loves you as much as I do.”
Caroline! She could feel her presence in the room, smell the sharp astringency of her witch hazel, hear the steady creak of her rocker. It was as if she’d crossed over from the sweet everlasting to deliver her message.
“Go on, Sleeping Beauty. It’s time for you to awaken to your whole life.”
Tears sprang from her eyes as she listened to Caroline’s soft drawl. As soon as the song ended, she picked up the phone and dialed.
“This is Minerva,” a voice said.
“This is Susan. Calling for Alone in Atlanta. Tell him that he’s finally found me.”
Forty-One
The next morning Susan stood outside the hotel, waiting for Ryan to arrive. He’d called her last night and Susan had hoped that when she heard his voice she would recognize him, but she did not.
He wanted to come to her that very second, but she said that she needed a good night’s sleep first and urged him to wait until morning. Now that it was morning she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a mistake in contacting him. Yes, they have been in love at one time, but now he was a stranger to her. Who knew how she would feel when she saw him?
She watched the streets; Devon’s Island was sleepy this time of year and there was little traffic. So far she’d only seen a handful of cars.
A convertible turned on to the street, a man and two dogs inside. The radio was playing and the deejay was talking about the good weather. The man slowed and parked in front of the hotel. The man opened the passenger side door and the dogs bounded in her direction. They both jumped on her and nearly knocked her over with their exuberance.
“Liberty! Mutsy!” the man called out.
The dogs were licking her face. A rush of memories washed over her. “Lib? Mutsy? Oh my God!”
The dogs continued to lap at her face, as if they could not get enough of the taste of her skin. She sensed the man standing over them. Susan felt shy and was afraid to look up at him.
“Hello, Susan,” he said softly.
Her eyes met his, and when he smiled it was like the sun peekin
g through a bank of dark clouds. Memories, warm and poignant, came flooding back. So many wonderful memories.
And love, she thought. You love this man. Ever since the moment you met him.
“Ryan? Is that you?”
He nodded, tears filling his eyes.
She approached him and touched his cheek as if she had to confirm that he was real. “It’s really you. I thought I’d lost for you forever.”
“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Susan leaned in to kiss him, his lips so soft and familiar. She felt as if she could get lost in that kiss. Except for Liberty and Mutsy, they were completely alone on the street, and yet she felt like she was being watched by unseen eyes. She glanced up at the sky. A single heart-shaped cloud floated above, and the smell of Caroline’s witch hazel filled her nostrils.
A song reached her ears from the radio in the car. One of her favorites: “Heaven is Place on Earth” by Belinda Carlisle. It was an apt song, because at that moment she genuinely felt like she was in heaven now that she was back in Ryan’s arms again.
“Please, let’s not ever be apart again,” Ryan said, holding her close.
“No,” she said breathlessly, tears pricking at her eyes. “Never, ever again.”
A deep knowing filled her body. Even if they were inadvertently to part again, she suspected they would always find themselves back with each other.
Their love would always find a way.
About the Author:
Karin Gillespie is national bestselling author of five novels and a humor columnist for Augusta Magazine. Her nonfiction writing had been in the New York Times, The Writer and Romantic Times. She maintains a website and blog at Karingillespie.net. Sign up for her newsletter on her website, follow her on Twitter or connect with her on Facebook.
Books by Karin Gillespie
GIRL MEETS CLASS
LOVE LITERARY STYLE
DIVINELY YOURS
The Bottom Dollar Series
BET YOUR BOTTOM DOLLAR (#1)
A DOLLAR SHORT (#2)
DOLLAR DAZE (#3)
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Henery Press Mystery Books
And finally, before you go...
Here are a few other mysteries
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LOVE LITERARY STYLE
Karin Gillespie
They say opposites attract, and what could be more opposite than a stuffy literary writer falling for a self-published romance writer?
Novelist Aaron Mite meets Laurie Lee at a writers’ colony and mistakenly believes her to be a renowned writer of important fiction. When he discovers she’s a self-published romance author, he’s already fallen in love with her.
Aaron thinks genre fiction is an affront to the fiction-writing craft. He often quotes the essayist, Arthur Krystal who says literary fiction “melts the frozen sea inside of us.” Ironically Aaron doesn’t seem to realize that he’s emotionally frozen. The vivacious Laurie, lover of flamingo-patterned attire and all things hot pink, is the one person who might be capable of melting him.
In the tradition of The Rosie Project, Love Literary Style is a sparkling romantic comedy which pokes fun at the divide between low and high brow fiction.
Read all about it at www.henerypress.com
GIRL MEETS CLASS
Karin Gillespie
The unspooling of Toni Lee Wells’ Tiffany and Wild Turkey lifestyle begins with a trip to the Luckett County Jail drunk tank. Her wealthy family finally gets fed up with her shenanigans. They cut off her monthly allowance but also make her a sweetheart deal: Get a job, keep it for a year, and you’ll receive an early inheritance. Act the fool or get fired, and you’ll lose it for good.
Toni Lee signs up for a fast-track Teacher Corps program. She hopes for an easy teaching gig, but ends up assigned to a high school that churns out more thugs than scholars.
What’s a spoiled Southern belle to do when confronted with a bunch of street smart students determined to make her life difficult? Luckily a handsome colleague is willing to help her negotiate the rough waters and keep her bed warm at night. But when she gets involved with dark dealings in the school system, she fears she might lose her new beau as well as her inheritance.
Read all about it at www.henerypress.com
BET YOUR BOTTOM DOLLAR
Karin Gillespie
The Bottom Dollar Series (#1)
Welcome to the Bottom Dollar Emporium in Cayboo Creek, South Carolina, where everything from coconut mallow cookies to Clabber Girl Baking Powder costs a dollar but the coffee and gossip are free. For the Bottom Dollar gals, work time is sisterhood time.
When news gets out that a corporate dollar store is coming to town, the women are thrown into a tizzy, hoping to save their beloved store as well their friendships. Meanwhile the manager is canoodling with the town’s wealthiest bachelor and their romance unearths some startling family secrets.
Pull up a wicker chair, set out a tall glass of Cheer Wine, and immerse yourself in the adventures of a group of women whom the Atlanta Journal Constitution calls, “… the kind of steel magnolias who would make Scarlett O’Hara envious.”
Read all about it at www.henerypress.com
Divinely Yours Page 23