by Anne Carol
Just then a tall, nice-looking man with dark brown hair entered the living room. A younger version of David was two steps behind him.
“You must be Beth,” David’s father said, approaching me with an outstretched hand. “I’m Charles. This here is Cameron.” He pointed to the boy beside him. I shook their hands.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
“Come, let’s sit.” David pulled me over to the light green sofa, which had a patchwork quilt draped over the top. Mr. Somers and Cameron sat on the two chairs facing the sofa.
“David tells me that you play trumpet, Mr. Somers,” I said, breaking the ice.
“Oh yes, we all dabble in a little music here. Do you play an instrument, Beth?”
“I took piano lessons growing up, so I can play a little, but I’m actually better at dancing.”
“Oh, dancing?” Mr. Somers sat up straight. I noticed David cringing.
“Dad …” he started to say.
“We might have to put a little music on later. Margaret and I love to dance.”
“We don’t have to,” David said in a low voice to me.
“Why not? Don’t you like to dance?” I questioned him.
“Well, I’m not much of a dancer,” he admitted. “But if you’d like to …” He gave me a pained expression.
Cameron started chuckling. “This should be a laugh.”
David shot him a dirty look.
“So, Cameron, what instrument do you play?” I said, trying to change the subject.
“I don’t right now. I played the trumpet and piano, but—“
“—Cameron is our athlete,” David said. “He’s quite a good cricket player.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cricket game.”
“Match,” Cameron corrected before going into the finer points of cricket, which I only half understood; it was kind of like baseball. Just as he was losing my attention, Mrs. Somers appeared from the kitchen, calling us to the table.
David squeezed my hand; he must’ve read my mind. “Don’t fret,” he whispered.
The five of us took our seats around the dining table, which was in an area off the kitchen. We each had a bowl of soup set before us, which smelled delicious. Mr. Somers opened up with grace, after which Mrs. Somers said, “This is cock-a-leekie soup.”
“Chicken and leeks,” David, who was seated beside me, added.
I took a small sip. “Mmm, good.”
Everyone was quiet as we ate our soup until finally David’s father spoke up.
“How are you finding England so far, Beth?”
“I’m enjoying it. There’s so much to see and do; lots of history here.”
“Is the weather quite a bit different than where you’re from?” his mom asked.
“Yes. Where I’m from, Northern California, it’s pretty hot and dry during the summer months. I actually like the cooler climate here. It’s refreshing.”
“But you miss the sun a bit, right?” David asked.
“Maybe a little.” I shrugged my shoulders.
Isn’t there anything more pressing to talk about than weather?
More silence followed as we finished the soup. Next up was the main course; Mrs. Somers served each of us a plate garnished with three food items, which she explained after she sat down.
“We have haggis, neeps, and tatties,” she said, pointing to each one. “Haggis is a meat mixture cooked in a skin, tatties are the mashed potatoes, and neeps are the diced turnips.”
“This is called Burns Supper, named after Robert Burns, the poet,” David continued. “We normally only have it in January, on Burns Night, but Mum thought you might like to try a traditional Scottish meal while you’re here.”
Mrs. Somers smiled.
“And if you’re willing, you can have a nip of whiskey to go along with it,” Mr. Somers added.
“Dad—” David started.
“—I’ll have a shot. It’s okay, David.”
“After the meal we can share a nip,” he said quietly. “It’s rather potent, and you should definitely eat first.”
I loved how he took care of me; it was so different than what I was used to.
I nodded and proceeded to look down at my plate, trying to decide where to start. David led the way by digging into the haggis meat mixture. I shot him a grin and proceeded to do the same, taking a small scoop and bringing it to my mouth.
“I like it,” I stated softly, mainly so David could hear.
He tapped me with his elbow and gave me a beaming smile.
When dinner was finished, I offered to help clear away the dishes while the men settled in the living room.
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Somers said graciously as I brought plates and silverware to the sink.
“You’re welcome. And thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” I started to leave to join David, but she stopped me in my tracks.
“Beth,” she said, filling the sink with water.
“Yes?”
“I just want to say how glad I am that David met you. I haven’t seen him this happy in a long time.” Her openness surprised me, so I listened closely. “He had his heart broken last year, and I feared he’d never recover. For a boy, he’s quite sensitive.”
In other words, she didn’t want him to get hurt again. I liked that she was protective of her son, so I tried to reassure her.
“Well, I think you’ve raised a great son, Mrs. Somers. I’m glad I met him.” And I don’t plan on hurting him, believe me.
“What’s all the chatter going on in here?” David strode into the kitchen. “Mum, may I have my girlfriend back, please?”
Girlfriend? It was the first time he’d called me that, and I loved the sound of it.
“Go on, I have plenty to do in here.” She gestured for us to leave.
He took my hand and led me toward the stairs.
“Where are you taking me, brown eyes?” I was still processing what his mother told me.
“My room. Don’t worry, my parents are here so I won’t try anything,” he said wryly.
“Very funny. I wasn’t worried.” I felt my face flush.
On the way there we passed by Cameron’s room, which was a mess. David quickly shut the door and apologized.
“It’s okay, you should see my room,” I said.
He turned his head sharply in my direction. “I hope to someday.”
Me, too.
“This is my room.” He ushered me into an average sized room that definitely had its own character. Besides the standard bed, dresser, and desk, one corner contained two guitars, electric and acoustic, plus a music stand, portable amp, and a stack of sheet music. The walls were covered with music paraphernalia, mostly concert fliers and posters of bands, everything from The Sex Pistols to Led Zeppelin, along with some other bands I’d never heard of. A pile of records sat on the floor next to his desk, where his stereo found its home.
“What do you think?” He leaned against the doorjamb with his arms crossed.
“It sure reveals a lot about you.” I inspected the concert fliers up close as I wandered around the room. “I mean, you are serious about music. I had no idea.”
“Music is my passion.”
He joined me at my side, asking, “What were you talking about with my mum?” He tried to sound casual, but I knew he was itching to know.
“Nothing, I just thanked her for dinner.”
“There’s more,” he prompted.
“She just said that you were hurt last year, and she’s glad to see you happy again.”
He quickly looked away. “I wish she hadn’t said anything.”
“Why?” Then I got brave. “You can tell me about her. I mean, you know all my dirty secrets.”
“True.” He glanced at me with sympathetic eyes.
“Go on,” I encouraged.
“Her name was Josephine. I guess you could call her my first love. We dated for seven months. I fancied her for longer, was thrilled when she finally agre
ed to go out with me.”
“So what happened?” I tried not to be bothered by the faraway look in his eye.
“She left me for a football player. I was so blind. I’m sure the signs were there, but I worshipped her and didn’t see her for who she truly was. Looking back, she always made me feel like I was lucky to be with her, never felt like we were equals, you know what I mean?” His gaze dropped to the floor.
“Completely.” I almost had tears in my eyes, because I knew precisely how he felt.
“She and Rick would’ve made a fine pair, right?”
“Right,” I replied, timidly looking down. The next thing I knew his soft lips were on my forehead, giving me a gentle kiss as his hands brushed back my hair.
“You don’t have to worry, angel, I’m over her. Quite over her.”
“I believe you.”
I strolled around his room and took in the surroundings. He gravitated over to me and fingered the wispy braid in my hair.
“So how many concerts have you been to?” I gaped at all the fliers.
“Only a few actually. I merely collect these posters.” He let go of my hair.
“What was your first concert?”
“The Rolling Stones when I was eight. They played a free concert at Hyde Park, and my Uncle John, with much resistance from my parents, of course, took me to see them. He knew I had an inclination towards music, and he was trying to inspire me I suppose. It certainly worked. After that concert, all I wanted was to learn guitar.” He turned to me. “What about you?”
“Um, my parents took us to see The Carpenters when I was eleven. They were really good. I still love their music.”
“Somehow I’m not surprised,” he quipped, grinning at me.
I rolled my eyes.
“Is this your uncle?” I pointed to a photo on the wall of David as an adolescent, standing next to a nice-looking man at what looked like a sporting event.
“Yes, that’s Uncle John.” His dipped his head low.
“Are you close with him?”
“I was, but Uncle John passed when I was eleven.” The pain in David’s eyes made my heart shatter. I circled my arm around his waist and gave him a side embrace as we both stared at the photo.
“I’m sorry, he must’ve been young. How did he die?”
“Drug overdose. He was only twenty-seven.”
“Oh, David. I don’t know what to say. That’s heartbreaking.”
He was silent for a moment, and I gave him an affectionate squeeze. “So Uncle John’s the one who got you into music?”
“I think I was always into music, but he was the one who encouraged me to learn guitar. He bought me my first guitar, you know.”
“He’d be proud of you. I sure am.” I looked up at him. “Speaking of that, will you play for me?”
“If you want me to.”
“Of course.”
“Alright.” He went and searched through his pile of records and pulled an album from the middle of the stack.
“You like The Beatles, right?” he asked.
“Who doesn’t?”
As I sat on his bed watching, he placed the record on the turntable, strapped on his acoustic guitar, and got in position to play.
“I’ve been listening to this song a great deal the past few weeks. One of my favorites,” he said as he carefully put the needle on the record.
The beginning notes of “Here Comes the Sun” started and while the song played, David strummed along, identically matching the guitar part on the recording.
A warmth came over me as I discerned the meaning of his song choice.
At the end of the song, I applauded. “Wow, you sounded just like the record! And I love that song. Another one, please!”
“Mm, let’s see … The Rolling Stones … ‘Wild Horses’? Do you know it?”
“I think so.”
He put The Beatles record back and searched through the pile for The Rolling Stones. Abruptly he stopped and said, “Must be in Cameron’s room. I’ll be right back.”
While he was gone, I got up and snooped around. I picked up the paper at the top of his stack of sheet music. There were only handwritten lyrics on the page, no musical notes. It was titled “Angel.” I froze. Angel? I glanced at the lyrics again but stopped when I heard David’s voice.
“No, don’t look at that!” He snatched the sheet from my hand and put it back. “It’s … not ready yet.”
“I’m sorry.” I hung my head, embarrassed.
“How much of that did you read?” His voice was urgent.
“Only the title.”
“Good. I’ll show you when it’s perfect, alright?” He kissed my cheek. “I promise.”
“Alright.” I backed down and returned to my seat on the corner of the bed. But I couldn’t help thinking the obvious: Did he write a song for me?
While my mind went crazy with hopeful thoughts, he played “Wild Horses,” followed by a few other songs, completely charming me. After a while, we made our way downstairs so I could say my goodbyes and thank his mother again for dinner. I also told her how much I enjoyed her roses.
“I’m glad they’re being admired,” she kindly responded.
On our walk back to Uncle Ned’s, David told me he’d be busy over the next few weeks with work and preparing for his band’s music gig.
“So I don’t know that I’ll see you as much as I’d like.”
“That’s okay, I understand,” I reassured him, though it bummed me out.
Stepping up to the porch, he said, “Perhaps I’ll stop by for a few minutes in the morning?”
I instantly brightened up. “I’d love that.”
He gently took me in his arms and rested his forehead against mine. “How am I going to focus on anything when all I can think of is your beautiful face?”
I could’ve fainted on the spot at his tender words. He had a way of making me feel like I was the most important person in the world, at least to him.
Still holding me close, he opened his mouth and took possession of my lips; kissing me more passionately than ever but still with restraint.
He paused for a moment as we both took a breath.
And then he blew me away with his next statement.
“I’m falling in love with you, Beth,” he whispered, before kissing me again.
My eyes filled with tears and in an instant, my hands were in his hair, kneading his scalp as I kissed him back.
As we took another breath, he put his forehead to mine again and said, “I don’t expect you to feel the same way so soon after … what happened, but I had to tell you how I feel.”
His words were like a salve for all the hurt I’d experienced over the past several months. Everything in me told me I felt the same way about him, but my mom’s voice came back to haunt me. I didn’t want to hurt him by saying those same words too soon and for the wrong reasons. I had to wait until I was absolutely sure.
“I want to tell you the same thing, but—”
“Shh, shh,” he put his finger to my lips. “You don’t have to explain. Tell me when you’re ready.”
“You know I will.” I continued to rub the back of his scalp, much to his delight as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Do you like that, Mr. Somers?” I said, giggling.
“Oh yes.” His eyes remained closed. “I’d let you do this all evening, except I need to get sorted for tomorrow.”
“Oh.” I dropped my hands, but he immediately grabbed them and put them around his neck before enclosing me in his arms.
“Kiss me again, angel,” he whispered.
We kissed one more time before saying good night and reluctantly parting ways.
He loves me … David loves me.
It was impossible to believe I’d only known him for three weeks; it felt like I’d known him forever. Did soul mates really exist, and if so, was he mine?
Fortunately, he squeezed me into his busy schedule over the next week. The time together gave us a chance to d
evelop our relationship beyond the initial chemistry. Before I said the “L” word, I wanted to make sure there was more than physical attraction between us. Those mornings on the porch holding hands and talking were priceless. And every afternoon between work and band business, we would walk down to Camden Lock Market and sample different foods.
By the end of the week, school was officially over for Jenny and David. I still didn’t understand the mechanics of the U.K. school system, nor did I understand why there was no formal graduation ceremony for the Upper Sixth Form students. Nevertheless, both were excited to be finished with their school obligations, and Jenny was begging for a few days away at the coast. I wasn’t excited about leaving David just when we were growing closer, but admittedly we both needed to spend time with our respective families.
Brighton turned out to be a fun escape. An hour and a half south of London, it was a seaside town not unlike Santa Cruz back home in California. Jenny and I spent a lot of time at the pebbly beach, while our moms went shopping and toured the sights.
One day when we were relaxing and munching on chips, Jenny threw out a question. “So are you planning on going to university here?”
I thought about it for a second, and then responded the only way I could.
“I’ll have to run it by my parents, but I’d like to, if my feelings for David are the real deal.”
“I hope you do, I like having you here. And I want things to work out for you and David. You’re perfect for each other.”
“I know. He told me he loves me.”
Her eyes bugged out and she leaned toward me on her towel. “What? Did you say it back?”
“No, not yet.”
“Why not? You love him, don’t you?”
“I do now, but a week ago I was still trying to figure out what I was feeling. I didn’t want to say it unless I was one hundred percent sure.”
“So you’ll tell him when we get back?”
“Yes, as soon I as I get the opportunity.”
She relaxed back onto her towel and smiled. Meanwhile, I wondered what my family and close friends would think of my going to college in London. Particularly a certain ex-boyfriend, whom I hadn’t spoken to since before the “incident.”
Oh yeah, somehow I had to deal with him.