Once More From the Top (The Women of Willow Bay)

by Nan Reinhardt

“Yes, the obvious was the biggest thing,” she admitted, chuckling. “He was hurt that I never told him about you. Really hurt and pretty ticked off that he’s missed so much of your life. We had to talk that out before I could bring him to meet you. That’s why I asked him to wait until today.”

  “How are you guys now?” He peered down at her. “Friends?”

  “We’re okay. Friends.” Now wasn’t the time to expand on her explanation. No point in dumping everything on the poor kid at once. “I’ll go get him.” She pointed to the office door. “He’s right outside the door.”

  Jack turned away from her, staring out the window for a long moment. Then, taking a huge breath, he turned back to face her, his eyes cloudy with apprehension.

  Carrie gave him a tight hug. “Come on, it’s okay. This is a good thing.”

  He trembled and clung to her for an instant longer. When he released her, he took another giant breath. “Okay, let’s do this.”

  NINETEEN

  Outside in the hall, Liam paced, his heart pounding, palms sweating.

  What’s going on in there? Confessions? A confrontation? An ugly quarrel?

  He hadn’t heard raised voices, but he’d resisted hovering at the door. His stomach roiled with both excitement and apprehension.

  This is what it’s like being a parent? Alternately terrified and overjoyed?

  It was a new sensation.

  His head shot up at the sound of the door opening, and Carrie crooked a finger. Straightening, he took a deep breath as she approached to take his hand in hers. His own were like ice. When she pressed her cheek to his palm, her soft skin felt almost feverish. With a gentle squeeze of her hand, he stepped into the office.

  Jack was rooted in the center of the room as Liam walked in. They gazed at one another. Liam walked closer and Jack met him halfway. The boy was taller than he expected, although he loomed over Carrie in the picture that he kept in his pocket. Staring into Jack’s eyes was like seeing a younger version of himself in a mirror.

  Liam’s stomach clenched.

  This child was his son. This tall, handsome, accomplished, young man.

  My son!

  They stood barely a yard apart, still staring as if neither of them could bear to take their eyes off each other. Moments ticked by, but they didn’t speak.

  I should say something.

  But nothing intelligent came to mind. He only wanted to gaze at Jack, maybe touch his face. Put his fingers in the dark red hair that parted down the middle and hung over his ears.

  Does it have the same texture as mine?

  His full mouth? That was all Carrie, as well as the firm chin. But the dimples? Definitely Reilly.

  One of us needs to speak.

  Finally, Liam cleared his throat. “Hello, Jack.”

  “Hello, it’s... good to meet you, sir.” His response was little guarded as they shook hands.

  Liam held on, appraising his son up and down for a moment. The boy—who was almost tall enough to look his father directly in the eye—returned the scrutiny as he tossed his long hair out of his face.

  “I–I can’t believe I’m standing here with–with you.” Liam faltered, inwardly cursing his own awkwardness.

  “Me, either.” Jack’s voice cracked, but he kept his grip on Liam’s hand.

  Liam raised his other hand. “May I?” He tentatively reached toward Jack’s hair.

  Jack nodded, a question in his eyes as his father sifted his fingers through his silky mop.

  It’s like touching my own hair.

  He ran a finger over Jack’s cheek, feeling the soft teenaged stubble there.

  What was he like as a toddler? As an infant?

  The pictures Carrie had shared with him flashed through his mind as he studied Jack’s features. His nose, that fine narrow nose. Liam recognized it—it looked like his own mother’s.

  A sudden longing for his parents coursed through him. How delighted they were going to be, finding out about a new grandchild. And how sad, too, that they missed this boy’s childhood—missed holding him, cuddling him, watching him grow and develop. So much time had passed already.

  Jealousy flared hot inside him for a moment. Carrie had Jack to herself since his birth—not even attempting to contact him to let him know he had a son. The Reillys were a close family. Her cowardly choice had robbed them all—Jack, too—of a powerful connection.

  Jack’s fingers tightened on Liam’s. Tears shimmered in his eyes. His teeth worried his lower lip, but he kept eye contact.

  “You’re so like your cousin Jamie.” Liam moved his hand to Jack’s shoulder, squeezing. “It’s almost eerie.”

  “I have cousins?” At last Jack released Liam’s hand.

  “Lots of them.” Smiling in spite of the tears beginning to trickle out of his own eyes, Liam nodded.

  “How many?”

  “Um... ten, I think, at last count.” Liam brushed his hand across his eyes. “And aunts and uncles—” His voice broke.

  Jack threw Carrie a helpless glance as she stood in the doorway. Then as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he reached for Liam and put his arms around him.

  With a choked sob, Liam enfolded his son in an embrace and they were both crying... and smiling.

  When Liam glanced back at Carrie, tears were streaming down her cheeks as well.

  Jack broke the hug first.

  Clearly ravenous for information, he began peppering Liam with questions. “Do I have grandparents? Are your parents still alive? Where are they?” He offered Liam a box of tissues from Dave Lawson’s desk, and they both wiped their eyes. “Where are my cousins? In Canada?” Jack tossed the tissue box over his shoulder without even looking at Carrie. “Heads up, Mom.”

  Liam gave her a strained smile around Jack’s head. “My parents are still alive. Doing great.” He blew his nose. “They live on a farm near Toronto and—” Abruptly he stopped. “Hey, how’d you know I was from Canada?”

  “I Googled you,” Jack admitted. Blushing, he let his gaze fall away.

  “Why?”

  Jack glanced over at his mother.

  She nodded.

  Jack shrugged. “I thought we looked alike. You know, from Dr. Lawson’s posters? So I started trying to find some information about you. Your website said you were from Canada and you were teaching at McGill when Mom auditioned there.” He paused. The color staining his cheeks became even rosier. “I’ve been wondering for a long time who my father... I mean, about... who... he...” Stumbling over the explanation, his eyes shifted to Carrie. “I mean... who you...”

  Liam gasped. “Good Lord. You mean you had this figured out before we ever got up here?”

  “Yes, sir. At least I thought I had. This afternoon I was going to ask Elly—Eliot—if I was right.”

  “Well, that’s... incredible.” Liam tousled Jack’s hair before putting his arms around him again for another quick hug.

  Jack grinned and shook the hair off his face. “Does your family know about me yet? Can I meet them?”

  “Of course. You can meet them whenever you like,” Liam said, avoiding Carrie’s eyes. “They’re your family too.”

  God, the kid’s longing for family.

  Resentment surged up in him again.

  I could have had him with me. He’d know his cousins, his grandparents... his father.

  Jack seemed to pick up on his reactions because the boy’s eyes widened as he sucked in a breath. “Will they be pissed? I mean about Mom and me?”

  Mom and me.

  The boy’s protective instincts for his mother came through loud and clear.

  “I promise they’ll be thrilled.” Liam patted his shoulder and smiled.

  This time his eyes darted over to Carrie. Tears still glistened on her cheeks, but the expression on her face was pure joy.

  He sighed inwardly.

  What was the point in being angry now?

  “What’s done is done,” as Will had so logically pointed out a few
days ago.

  She’d given him so much in the past few days—opened herself up and let him back into her life. Today, she’d stayed in the background, granting him full access to the one person dearest to her heart. That took courage and trust and yes... love.

  He claimed he’d forgiven her for keeping Jack a secret.

  But had he?

  Now, standing in a room for the first time with his son, he was forced to make that choice all over again. Already, he saw how well she’d raised him—what a fine young man he’d turned out to be—even without his influence. Inhaling a deep breath, he let it out slowly and with it, released the last vestiges of the anger.

  Now, we truly move forward.

  He met Carrie’s gaze with a bracing smile.

  “What should I call you?” Jack asked Liam bluntly.

  Baffled, Liam gave Carrie a raised brow before he responded with his own question. “What do you want to call me?”

  Shuffling his feet nervously, his brow furrowing, Jack stammered. “I–I don’t know.”

  Thankfully, Carrie stepped in. Crossing the room to put her arm around her son’s waist, she offered, “Why don’t you call him Liam for now?”

  Jack turned to his father. “Is that okay with you?”

  “I’m good with that. Beats the heck out of sir, don’t you think?”

  Jack chuckled and put his arm around his mother’s shoulders, but he was still gazing at Liam in wonder.

  Speechless again, emotions raced through Liam as he stared at his son, whose fingers tangled nervously in the curls at the back of his mother’s neck.

  His hands are exactly like mine—long fingers, wide palms. A pianist’s hands.

  All of a sudden, he was dying to hear Jack play.

  Dave Lawson stuck his head around the door. “Sorry to interrupt, folks. But Jack, you need to go get your kids ready. Tessa’s backstage with them.” He opened the door further. Glancing at the three of them standing together in the center of the room, Liam could tell by the expression on his face, he’d figured it out in less than ten seconds. But all he said was, “Maestro, you’re staying for the recital? Jack here is our finale.”

  “Yes, I’m staying.” Liam turned to Jack. “You’re playing the finale?”

  “Yes, sir—” Shaking his head, he corrected himself. “—um, Liam. Jelly Roll Morton.”

  “So Jack is Eliot’s star?” Liam remembered Dave’s reference from earlier in the week.

  Dave nodded with a grin. “Yup. We’re all very proud of him.”

  “I can’t wait to hear you play.” Liam squeezed the boy’s shoulder, letting his hand linger there. Tenderness tightened his chest as tears threatened again. He just wanted contact, any kind of contact.

  Jack gazed from one adult face to the other before releasing Carrie. “’Scuse me. I gotta go backstage.” Dropping a kiss on her hair, he made it almost to the door before he pivoted to face them again. “I’ll see you after the recital?” The question was directed at Liam.

  “I’ll be right here,” Liam replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jack’s hair fell down into his eyes as he nodded. Stopping again in the open doorway, he met his father’s gaze. “Liam... I–I’m glad you’re here.” His voice trembled.

  “So am I, Jack.” Liam’s own voice was husky with emotion. “So am I.”

  TWENTY

  The recital was charming with the children playing the pieces they’d worked on as their teenaged counselors stood offstage encouraging them. Jack closed the program with the Jelly Roll Morton number. Liam was clearly bowled over by his son’s technique and talent, sitting spellbound through the piece, his eyes glued to the stage.

  Jack played with an intensity and drive that Carrie had never seen in him before. This one was for his father, and even she felt the natural gravitation they had toward one another. The music was already creating an almost palpable bond between them. It was both exciting and disconcerting.

  Dear God, how is this going to change the life we’ve built up here?

  All in all, the afternoon was a huge success, including the post-recital reception. Jack squired Liam around the big dining hall, proudly introducing him to his camp friends and former instructors. The room buzzed with talk as folks recognized Liam and clustered around him—parents introducing themselves, campers anxious to meet a famous conductor. Even the local newspaper nabbed him for a quick interview that was sure to find its way into the Traverse City paper.

  Jack’s eyes were huge as he stood at his father’s side while Carrie watched more or less from the sidelines. Smiling that thousand-watt smile, Liam chatted as he autographed programs and napkins. But he kept Jack near him with a hand on his shoulder or an arm around him.

  Is this how life is for him? Crowds always aware of his every move? Always wanting his attention?

  Her heart rose to her throat as she watched him glide effortlessly through the crowd, greeting fans, pen in hand. Could she live like this? Constantly being recognized and scrutinized? Could Jack?

  At the moment, Jack seemed to be soaking up the attention like a sponge, sticking to Liam, acknowledging introductions, and graciously accepting congratulations on his own playing. Several times, she caught Liam or Jack scanning the small throng.

  Were they looking for her? Did they need to stay in visual contact the same way she needed to see them?

  When they spotted her, she smiled and waved. Until they all got comfortable together, she was the anchor.

  “This is an unusual situation, Carrie.” Will’s voice in her ear interrupted her musing as if he’d been able to read her mind. He’d ridden to Lawson with Eliot and was sipping from a paper cup as he walked up beside her, offering a second cup of punch.

  “Is it?” She gave him a wry smile, accepting the drink.

  He nodded. “This is a venue where people will know him immediately. He’s a celebrity here—kind of like in the theater lobby after a performance. He always signs autographs then. But he doesn’t constantly get stopped on the street in Chicago or New York.”

  “He doesn’t?” Her eyes were on Liam as he bent down to listen to an attractive young woman standing next to him. He laughed at something the woman said, and she lit up like a Christmas tree as she handed him her program to sign. Carrie glanced back at Will. “This happened at Sleeping Bear the other day. A woman stopped him for an autograph.”

  “Honey, his picture’s plastered all over the county, thanks to Dave Lawson. He’s in TSO’s program right now. Plus there are posters all over Interlochen.”

  “I know, but it’s a little… daunting. This is all foreign to me—and Jack.” She gazed back at her son, who was now deep in conversation with two other young men. One of them vigorously played air piano while Jack grinned and nodded.

  “Jack’s having the time of his life.” Will tossed his cup into the trash bin near the door. “He’s been floating ever since he took that third bow.”

  “I don’t want him to—” Carrie stopped, biting her lip.

  Will gave her a long look. “To be like Liam?”

  “That’s not what I meant to say.” She expelled a long frustrated breath.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the log wall. “What’s wrong with being like Liam? He’s a fine musician. A fantastic conductor with an incredible career. And he’s a good man.”

  “Jack’s a fifteen-year-old boy, not a worldly wise celebrity. He needs time to grow up. Time to be a kid.”

  “Liam has no intention of taking that time away from him,” he reassured her as Liam and Jack headed their direction, talking a mile a minute.

  Carrie’s heart swelled at the sight of them—both tall and handsome, their features so much alike—moving easily between the tables and chairs, being stopped by fans as they chatted.

  “Carrie, you gotta let this happen.” Will patted her shoulder. “Relax. Give them time to get acquainted.” Will’s expression was kind, but deadly serious.

  He w
as right. Jack and Liam deserved some time together. Maybe she just needed to stop worrying. She scanned the crowd for them again, but this time found only Jack talking animatedly to his friends.

  What had happened to Liam?

  When she turned to ask Will, his attention had been caught by something he’d noticed beyond her head. “Excuse me for a minute, Carrie.” Patting her shoulder, he scooted past her, heading in the direction of Dave Lawson’s office.

  * * * *

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Liam’s temper detonated as soon as he and Marty Justice hit the door of the office.

  He’d spotted his former manager hovering at the edge of the crowd as they all made their way to the dining hall. He’d deliberately ignored him, hoping he’d get the point and disappear. However, Marty—never one to pay attention to a subtle hint—had stopped Jack when Liam’s back was turned. He was talking fast and in the process of handing the boy a business card when Liam stepped between them.

  Gripping Marty’s bicep, he practically frog-walked him away from Jack.

  “What’s happening?” Will appeared in the doorway before Marty had a chance to answer Liam’s question.

  “Nothing that concerns you, Brody,” Marty snarled. “Buzz off.”

  Will stood fast. “Um, Liam?”

  “Don’t leave, Will.” Liam paced the office, so angry the blood pounded in his ears and temples. “Marty, we had this conversation on the phone. You’re fired. Peter messengered the papers to you yesterday.”

  “That little ambulance chaser left about a dozen voicemails trying to get me to sign those fuckin’ papers.” Marty dropped onto the sofa, sweat beading on his brow.

  “Well, why didn’t you?” Liam gave him a hard stare.

  “I’m not signing anything until we talk.”

  “We did talk. Didn’t you listen to a word I said?” Liam threw his hands out in front of him, palms down. “We’re finished. You got a hell of a severance package, which I wasn’t obligated to give you. What are you doing here?”

  “When I realized it was that old fart Raines who’d contacted you about this gig, I knew something was up. Then you called all bent out of shape. I came back here to see what was going on and goddammit, I was right. Carrie Halligan? A kid, Liam? Seriously?”