Making a Comeback

by Julie Blair

  “Missed a few rehearsals,” her dad said, but no one paid attention to him. Sammy gave Regan a thumbs-up. Cassie caught Liz’s eye and winked.

  No one said anything as Jac released Max from his harness. He walked directly to Liz, tail wagging, and put his paws on the piano bench. She ruffled his ears and scrabbled her fingers down his back the way that made him wiggle his butt. God, she’d missed him. He settled on the floor on his spot by the couch, a respectful distance from Oscar. Her hands trembled as Jac took her trumpet from its case, ran through several arpeggios, and then blew a high C that went on forever. She couldn’t get the last time they’d played out of her head.

  Jac went to her usual position next to Sammy and nodded in Liz’s direction.

  Never taking her eyes from Jac, Liz started them off on “Carmel Sketches.” Everything faded, and it was just Jac and the music they’d written together. Her wrist hurt like hell as she played with everything she had.

  When the final note faded, all Liz heard was her heart beating against her ribs. Jac’s improvising was daring, confident, and sensuous, a refined version of how she’d played the last night in Hawaii. Cassie clapped her sticks together. Regan slapped her guitar. Sammy whispered something to Jac, who nodded but didn’t smile. Her dad folded his arms, looking smug.

  “Let’s do ‘Spring Time,’ ‘Combustion,’ and ‘Soaring Hawk,’” Liz said. “Then we’ll do another run-through of ‘Carmel Sketches’ and call it a night.” Could she make it through four songs? She massaged her wrist. Her dad looked her way and she stopped. She was afraid to tell him it hurt.

  Jac turned toward her and tilted her head, frowning, then went to the couch. Sitting with her trumpet in her lap, she petted Max through the three songs. When she joined them for “Carmel Sketches,” she played even more beautifully.

  “Great work,” Liz said. She rubbed her wrist as everyone filed out, except Jac. Her heart was in her throat, and all she could think about was that night in Hawaii and how much she’d wanted Jac.

  “Hello, Liz,” Jac said, standing by the piano. “What’s wrong with your wrist?”

  “I don’t know.” Tears stung her eyes from the pain.

  “Have you seen the doctor?”

  “I will after the festival. I’m glad you came back.”

  “Monterey’s important.”

  Liz’s heart dropped. Jac came back for the show.

  “Is this your last rehearsal?” Jac was all business. Not a speck of acknowledgement in her voice that they were friends.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll meet you backstage Friday.” Jac’s distant, detached attitude sent chills through Liz. If she’d hoped for forgiveness, she saw no sign of it. Jac packed her trumpet and put Max’s harness on.

  “I’ll walk out with you. Did Peggy drive you?”

  “Mom did. No need to walk me out.” Jac hesitated, and for an instant, something heavy hung in the air between them. Then she straightened her shoulders and left.

  Liz followed a few steps behind, as if pulled by a magnetic force. It hurt so much to watch Jac walk away. She waved to Susan. The car pulled from the curb. A stab of longing made her want to chase it.

  “You’re looking like you lost your best friend,” Cassie said, draping her arm over Liz’s shoulders. “Don’t take a genius to figure out something happened with Jac.”

  “A misunderstanding.”

  “If I was a betting woman, I’d say it was the romantic kind of misunderstanding.”

  “Save your nickels.”

  “Whatever you say.” Cassie walked on ahead. “If losing her makes you play like you been lately, you better rethink what you’re about, girlfriend.”

  “Cass, wait.” No point denying it. “Things got out of hand and I made a mistake. I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “For better or worse, T gave you this shot for the band. She can’t give you happiness.”

  “I don’t know what that is anymore.”

  “If you found it with Jac, you’re a fool for letting her go.”

  “I’ll always love Teri.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Cassie gave her a funny look. “You and Jac click. It’s in your music. You can’t hide or fake that.”

  “It’s just music.”

  “It’s just your heart singing. Why you being so stubborn? How many people are lucky enough to fall in love twice? Now go say good-bye to T and get on with your life.” Cassie kissed her cheek. “I love you. Don’t disappoint me.”

  “I want to talk to you after dinner about the fall tour,” her dad said as Liz gathered up her stuff in the music room. “And I don’t want to make you nervous, but an agent approached me about promoting you. He’ll be at Monterey to hear a couple of groups, including you.”

  “Are we ready for that?” Something was seriously wrong with her wrist.

  “You take the breaks when they come,” he said. “Teri would be thrilled.”

  “Hey, Pops,” Sammy said, poking his head in the door. “Gotta run.”

  “You’re not having dinner?”

  “Can’t.”

  Regan walked in, her arm around Vicky. “I’ll see you Friday,” she said to Liz.

  “We always have dinner together after practice,” her dad said, frowning.

  “Got plans.” Regan had on blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt. Only her Converse shoes were black. Amazing.

  “I guess it’s you and me, sunshine,” he said as they headed toward the restaurant. “I want your opinion on Louise’s chicken potpie. She wants to put it on the menu.”

  “When’s Rebecca coming back?” She’d been on vacation for the last two weeks, the longest she’d ever been gone. He said nothing. “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “Rebecca took a job in Sacramento.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You need to focus on the show.”

  “She’s had job offers before.”

  “She wanted to date.” So, Hannah was right.

  “And?”

  “Your mom was the love of my life. I can’t replace her any more than you can replace Teri.”

  “You know what? I’m exhausted. I’m going home.”

  “I want to talk to you about—”

  “Not tonight.” Liz forced herself to drive home instead of to Carmel. What could she say to Jac in the face of her aloofness? Would they play Monterey and never see each other again? That’s not what she wanted. After the festival, she’d find a way to restore their friendship.

  Inside the condo, she heated leftover pizza and ate without tasting as she curled up on the couch with the TV on. At least the noise was company. She missed Hannah being here. So many things she needed to do and she had no energy for any of them.

  The front door opened and Hannah bustled in with flattened moving boxes in her arms. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” She tossed the boxes on the floor and turned on a light. “Are you crying?”

  Liz pressed Kleenex to the corners of her eyes. “I miss Jac so much.”

  “I know,” Hannah said, sitting next to her.

  The Kleenex wilted with the fresh rush of tears. “I’m in love with her. I can’t help it.” The instant she’d seen Jac walk through the door, she’d known.

  “You two belong together.” Hannah rubbed her back.

  “I always thought I’d be like Grandma and Dad. One love. Mated for life.”

  Hannah snorted. “Life isn’t a fairy tale, Lizzie. Love is precious whenever it comes, and you’re a fool if you don’t grab it.”

  “Jac came to rehearsal today.”

  “Did you tell her how you feel?”

  “I’m afraid.” A sob rose up and she gripped Hannah’s hand. “She barely talked to me.”

  “You have to give her a reason to talk to you. Tell her. I dare you.”

  “I don’t know how to say good-bye to Teri.”

  “Cancel your classes tomorrow. We’ll go say good-bye together. Now scoot over.” Hannah too
k a piece of pizza from her plate and turned the volume up too loud and everything felt right. New, but right.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Liz tightened her fingers around the bouquet of lilies on her lap, thinking back to the last time she was at this cemetery. Numb from grief, she’d walked between her dad and Teri’s mom, pockets stuffed with Kleenex, hoping her legs didn’t collapse under her. Monday it would be a year.

  Hannah parked Liz’s convertible beside the curb. Green lawn dotted with oak trees stretched to the boundaries of the cemetery. Vineyards went on from there. Pretty. Peaceful. They’d listened to the CD on the drive to Lodi, and they sat until the last song ended, the one with Teri’s riveting solo.

  They walked arm in arm, in the matching sandals they’d bought in Hawaii. The sun was warm on their backs, the sky a cloudless blue. Liz’s heart beat slowly, reverently, as if recognizing where they were. They stood in front of the waist-high black marble headstone.

  Teri Denise Carr

  Beloved Daughter and Wife

  September 3, 1981–September 22, 2013

  Kneeling, Liz arranged the flowers in the vase they’d brought, adding water from a bottle.

  Hannah kissed her fingers and touched them to the headstone, saying something under her breath. She gave Liz a quick hug. “I’ll be by the car if you need me.”

  Liz pulled out the wad of Kleenex from her pocket. She put on Teri’s favorite Giants baseball cap and sat on the grass with her legs tucked under her. A squirrel ran up the trunk of a nearby oak tree, an acorn in its mouth.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring myself to come before. I’ve missed you so much. It’s been so hard without you. I thought we’d be together forever.” She picked a stalk of clover and twirled the stem in her fingers.

  “The jazz festival is Friday. I got the CD out. It’s getting great reviews. I’m composing again. It’s not our sound, but I love it. You wanted me to go on with my life. I didn’t think I could, but I have.” She rubbed her palm over the prickly blades of grass. “I met a woman in Carmel. I need to tell you about her. Her name’s Jac…” Liz talked and cried for a long time until she’d said it all. With each sentence, the strings that bound her heart to Teri’s loosened. By the end she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

  Finally she stood and ran her hand over Teri’s name on the headstone. “I’m in love with Jac. I want a future with her, if she’ll have me. I came to say good-bye, Teri.” She waited for more tears that never came. She took off her ring, put it in her pocket, and walked to the car.

  “Hear that?” Hannah asked. “That’s Teri cheering.”

  One phase of her life was ending, and it was as it should be. Liz prayed another phase was about to start. She kept her eyes on the road ahead as they drove out of the cemetery, her thoughts on Jac.

  “You’re humming,” Hannah said.

  Liz pressed her hands to her chest. She was humming a new melody. Would there be a trumpet part in it? She pinched the pendant she never took off. She hoped there would be.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Liz put her hand over her abdomen to calm the nerves dancing in her stomach. She’d pulled into this gravel driveway so many times in the last six months that it felt like home. She was worried about the reception she’d get today in light of Jac’s aloofness on Monday. How did she apologize for taking advantage of her and then ask her to go steady? It was crazy. But…her heart did that wonderful flip-flop and then beat its new rhythm, the rhythm that had Jac in it. She owed her the truth.

  She’d planned to tell her after the show Friday night but had woken up this morning with an aching need to see her. She barely made it through her morning classes before hanging an office hours canceled sign on her door and racing home. She’d packed and driven like a crazy woman down to Carmel. I’m in love with her. The thought made her insides go soft and her heart flutter, but it also made her tremble with fear. Was Hannah right that Jac had feelings for her, or would she make a fool of herself with an unwanted confession?

  Liz let the engine idle, trapped in uncertainty. Finally, she turned it off and strode to the house. She couldn’t stand the way things had been at the last rehearsal. If they were going to be onstage together, she had to do this. The awkwardness between them would show in the music, and that wasn’t fair to Jac. There was too much at stake with her comeback. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the front door.

  “Liz.” With the briefest look of surprise, Jac’s mom greeted her with a warm smile. Or maybe she wanted to believe it was warm.

  “Susan. I’m so glad you’re here for the show. I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye in Hawaii.” A funny little hitch added itself to her heartbeat. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

  “I hope you’ve come to see Jacqueline.” Trumpet notes filled the house and a piano joined in. Show tune. Jac and Peggy. “Join us. We’re having a late lunch.”

  Liz followed Susan, hands clasped in front of her to steady them. Frank was eating a salad at the dining table. He nodded at her. Peggy caught her eye. Surprise, and then she smiled.

  She was afraid to look at Jac. Her heart was already galloping from just being near her. She closed her eyes and listened as Jac improvised to the well-known melody, twisting and turning it in a sophisticated riff. When they stopped, Liz was trembling, barely able to believe what she’d heard. Hawaii had changed Jac’s playing. She was uninhibited, improvising with fearlessness and ease. She opened her eyes and looked at Jac, and her stomach did a slow roll. Oh, yeah, she was in love with her.

  “One more,” Peggy said.

  “No more,” Jac said. “I haven’t had lunch yet.” She was breathing hard, the trumpet against her chest. Wearing creased jeans and an orange linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to show those wonderfully muscled forearms, she was partly her old self and partly a new, more relaxed-looking self. So beautiful.

  “One more or I’ll hide the butterscotch pudding,” Peggy said, motioning Liz over to the piano.

  Heart pounding, Liz slid to the center of the bench and rubbed her hands on her jeans. Her wrist still hurt like hell with any movement. She didn’t care if this was the last thing she ever played. It was her most important performance ever.

  “Do I have to put up with that, Mom?”

  “Yes.” Susan poured iced tea from a pitcher and handed the glass to Peggy, who sat with them, her expression as welcoming as it had ever been.

  “You always liked her best,” Jac said with mock petulance, tucking hair behind her ear. She wore her diamond studs and diamond ring. She looked confident, not at all like the lonely mess Liz was. “What tune?” She lifted the trumpet to her lips.

  Liz froze, her fingers above the keys. Longing swirled through her, like an ocean current, and she couldn’t find her way out of it, trapped in forces about to pull her away from everything she’d known. It built like a crescendo until she couldn’t keep it in. She let go…love and desire swept down her arms and into “Carmel Sketches.”

  Jac lowered the trumpet, a look of shock on her flushed face. She started to walk away.

  Liz’s heart plummeted, but she didn’t stop. She needed to have this conversation with Jac, and if the only way to have it was through the piano, then that’s what she’d do. Those zinging pains in her wrist made her wince. The melody she’d heard in her mind leaving the cemetery filled her, and she let it come through, raw and fresh, the sound of the future she wanted. She played her part hoping, against the evidence of Jac’s back, that she’d play hers.

  Susan went to Jac, took her arm, and whispered something. Jac stiffened. Susan spoke again, and Jac’s shoulders lifted as she took a deep breath, then dropped as she let it out.

  Peggy, Susan, and Frank went to the patio, closing the French doors. Max moved to Jac’s side and sat, as if blocking her from leaving.

  Liz kept going—apology for what she’d done in Hawaii. Telling Jac how much she’d missed her. Then confessing how much she’d wanted her in Hawaii.

&nb
sp; Jac turned toward the piano and tilted her head, her mouth in that sad half smile.

  Liz repeated that passage. Yes, I wanted you so much it drove me to do something I shouldn’t have. I took advantage of someone I love. Yes, someone I love.

  Finally, Jac lifted the trumpet and joined her.

  She didn’t know how long they played, or even what they played—jazz, classical—it blended and separated, climaxed and softened, surged and ebbed, fusing into something new. She couldn’t take her eyes off Jac, blurred into soft edges by tears. When she’d said all she had to say, she dropped her hands to her lap. Only then did she realize her wrist was free of pain.

  Jac didn’t stop. Her sound went sad, deeply sad, then angry sad.

  She wanted to run to Jac, to hold and comfort her. She sat and listened, waiting for her future to be determined.

  Jac’s sound shifted, becoming less sad, then ended in a flurry of dissonant confusion. She held the trumpet between her breasts, her chest rising and falling, her expression unreadable. “Why are you here?”

  “I miss you.” She gripped the edge of the bench to keep from throwing herself into Jac’s arms. She wouldn’t force herself on her again. “I miss us.”

  “Is there an us?” Jac’s voice was gentle but sad.

  “There was. I want that again.” Please tell me you forgive me.

  “Your wrist. It’s better.”

  “Not until just now.” She rubbed it, made fists. No pain. She wanted to laugh with relief, but the pain in her chest was still there. No sign of forgiveness. “I’m so sorry about Hawaii.”

  Jac set her trumpet on the table and was out the door, long strides taking her across the patio before Liz was barely off the bench.

  Liz caught up to her and tried to keep pace as Jac headed toward her cottage. “Please let me explain.”

  Jac kept walking. Max trotted beside her.

  She grabbed Jac’s arm, holding tight when Jac tried to yank free. “I want to be with you.” Damn it. That’s not the way she wanted to say this.