by Joan Kilby
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CARLY LISTENED TO the phone ring and ring before she hung up in frustration. Finn had been incommunicado for two weeks. How could she make up her mind whether to sell him the house if she couldn’t talk to him about it?
That aside, the RockAround concert was tonight and she wanted to wish him luck.
Nearly 4:00 p.m. and almost everyone had left the office, slipping away early to start the Memorial Day long weekend. Not Carly. She was working. As usual.
Not totally incommunicado. A letter had arrived from Finn a few days ago. It contained a ticket to the RockAround concert, an airline ticket and a heart-shaped slip of paper with the words Marry Me scrawled across it. Her heart leaped every time she saw the message in his loopy handwriting. She beat down the flutter—she really couldn’t take his proposal seriously.
Althea and Erica were probably halfway to the beach right now. They’d asked her to go but she’d declined. She hardly saw them these days because her hours were so long. Everyone she knew was going out of town for the long weekend. Even her father, although his engagement was mainly business combined with a little socializing in the evening. But then, he was a workaholic.
Restless, she rose and went to the window. Thick dark rain clouds were building above the high-rise canyon. She sighed, thinking about the sunset on Teddy Bear Beach. That would be a great place for a picnic and to watch the fireworks. Would Finn be in Fairhaven tomorrow? Might depend on how his concert went. She should be there to support him. Whatever else had gone down, they were still friends.
Sam said Finn’s offer was serious; he’d paid a deposit already. Should she accept? The other buyer had dropped out and no one else had come along. Part of her wanted to keep the home. She loved so many things about the town, the sense of community, the slower pace. She could see herself getting into growing vegetables and having the time to bake bread.
But moving there would mean giving up her whole life. Why would she throw away the job she’d worked so hard for within a few months of achieving it?
Because the achievement hadn’t transformed her, or made her complete, the way she’d been subconsciously expecting it to? Because work alone wasn’t enough to fill the hole in her heart left by Finn’s absence?
He’d broken her heart. Twice. Only a fool would give him an opportunity to do it a third time. Only a fool would chuck in her good job and apartment to marry a man who’d belatedly decided he was going to live out his teenage dream of being a rock-and-roll star. And she was no fool.
Carly went back to her desk but the words on her computer monitor were a blur. She wrapped her arms around herself against a sudden stab of fear on Finn’s behalf. He was exposing himself, risking his equilibrium for the slim chance that he would be a star. What if he failed? What would that do to him?
And yet, the last time they’d talked his optimism had had a larger-than-life quality. And that rash proposal...that wasn’t like him. What if he truly was changing, not just on the surface but deep down, moving in some fundamental way toward the man he was destined to be?
Herb paused as he passed her office. He’d taken off his tie and rolled up his sleeves. “You’re still here? I figured when I hired you that you’d be the dedicated type. Glad to see I was right. It’s the only way to get ahead at Hamlin and Brand.”
Carly smiled brightly, hoping her inner agonizing wasn’t visible on her face. “Finishing up soon.”
“If you don’t have any plans for the weekend, you’re welcome to join my wife and I at our place in the Hamptons,” Herb went on. “We’re hosting some of the firm’s biggest clients for Memorial Day.”
This must be how it had started for her father. After Carly’s mother died, he hadn’t remarried, instead throwing himself into his work. Gradually, he’d lost touch with anyone outside his professional sphere. Now he was a powerful wheeler and dealer, but he had no personal life. Carly had forgotten that fact in her desire to succeed. Top dogs might be top dogs, but they didn’t have many friends.
The truth was, she needed Finn as much as he needed her. They needed each other. So what was she doing in New York when she could be with him?
“Thanks, Herb, but actually I do have plans.” She didn’t often act impulsively, but when her instincts were telling her something, she listened. “I’m flying to Seattle. A friend of mine is in a band and they’ve got a big concert tonight.”
“I saw the Rolling Stones when I was twenty,” Herb said wistfully.
“That must have been something.” She shut down her computer and grabbed her purse. Muttering an apology for her abrupt departure, she added, “Have a wonderful weekend.”
She hurried out to the elevator, pulling up the taxi app on her phone. Herb was in his sixties so he must have seen the Stones in their heyday. Would people still remember Finn so fondly forty years on? She could believe they would.
On the ground floor she pushed through the revolving glass doors and looked up and down the street for her ride. The afternoon was still and sticky and the black clouds hung ominously overhead.
She checked her watch again. She was cutting it fine but she could make her six thirty flight. Thanks to the time difference, if all went well, she would land in Seattle around nine thirty, and get to RockAround in time for Finn’s concert.
A white compact pulled in to the curb. She checked the license number and hopped in. “JFK and hurry, please,” she said to the driver, a guy in his thirties with a hipster beard and glasses. “I’m running late.”
“No problem.” The driver pulled into traffic just as another taxi headed for the curb. The two cars clipped each other with a clash of metal and her car spun around and faced the wrong way on the street.
Carly was flung against the side of the car and her purse slid across the seat and fell to the floor. She straightened, shaken.
“You okay?” the driver asked, peering around the seat. A trickle of blood oozed from his forehead.
“Yeah, fine,” she replied, dazed.
“You saw, didn’t you, lady?” her driver said. “He was going too fast.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” No one was hurt and she didn’t have time to hang around. “I have to go.”
Getting out of the car, she tossed a twenty at the driver and waved frantically at a passing taxi. To her huge relief, it stopped. “JFK,” she told the cab driver. “Hurry but please drive carefully. I need to get there in one piece.”
By now she was perspiring and flustered. Taking deep breaths she calmed herself down. Everything would be all right. One little accident wasn’t going to stop her.
One little accident wouldn’t have. But on the parkway a six-car pileup blocked traffic in both directions. After being stalled for half an hour Carly was ready to scream. She texted Finn to wish him luck and say she was on her way. No reply. Either he was busy with preshow sound checks or whatever bands did before a gig—or he’d bailed again.
No, she refused to think that.
Finally traffic started to move, and once past the accident scene, flowed smoothly again. Carly checked her watch. If nothing else went wrong she could still make her flight.
The universe, however, had other ideas. The heavens opened and rain poured down. Visibility was nil. Traffic slowed to a crawl. Carly shut her eyes as water drummed on the roof. Maybe it was an omen. She wasn’t supposed to fly to Seattle tonight.
“What time is your flight?” the driver asked. His sympathetic gray eyes watched her in the rearview mirror.
“Six thirty.” She checked her watch again and groaned. Whether Finn was in trouble or whether he aced it, she wanted to be at his side. “I’ll never make it now.”
“I can get you there, miss,” the driver said. “But it’ll cost you an extra twenty dollars.”
She threw up her hands. “Okay.”
“Hold on.” The driver a
ccelerated into the next lane, slipping into an impossibly narrow space between a semi truck and a 4X4.
Carly’s stomach dipped. Eyes scrunched, she held on with both hands and braced her feet. The car swayed with the force of sudden changes of direction, and skidded sideways on the rain-slick streets. Her eyes flew open to see them barely miss sideswiping a truck. A horn blared. She shut her eyes hard again and concentrated on breathing exercises.
Her life as it could have been flashed before her eyes. She and Finn, living in the house on the hill, surrounded by kids and dogs. He was the man she was meant to be with. He was annoying, exasperating and frustrating. Kind and generous and sexy. He might screw things up sometimes, but he had more talent than anyone she’d ever known. Her head said, forget about him. Her heart said, never let him go.
She sent a quick text to Annie. Good luck! No reply. She texted Nora. Is the concert going ahead? The reply came back within seconds. As far as I know. Why? Have you heard differently?
That was Nora, anxious and suspicious. No, just checking. I’m on my way to the airport.
We’re in the car, driving to Seattle.
Save me a seat? I might be late.
Nora replied with a thumbs-up emoji.
“What airline, ma’am?” The driver slowed at the departures level. They’d made it, and in one piece.
She told him, put away her phone, and buttoned her trench coat. The rain had eased but was still splashing down.
Five forty five. She didn’t have checked bags. If she ran... If there was no lineup... If her gate wasn’t at the far end of the terminal...
She paid the driver, remembering at the last minute to peel off an extra twenty. “Thanks.”
“You will make it, miss,” he called as she ran inside.
Of course her gate was at the far end of the terminal. She started to jog.
“Last call for Flight 73 to SeaTac Airport. Will all passengers make their way to the boarding lounge. The gate will be closing in five minutes.”
The overhead board told her she had twelve minutes travel time. She took her heels off and sprinted. No way was she going to miss this plane after everything she’d been through just to get to the airport on time.
At the gate she thrust her e-ticket at the attendant and waited panting while the woman scanned the barcode. On the tarmac, workers were removing the chocks from behind the airplane’s wheels.
The attendant handed back her ticket, spoke into her intercom and then said to Carly, “Hurry.”
Carly was the last person on the flight. She slowed in the aisle, aware her hair was all over the place, she was in her stocking feet and she was breathing hard. She slipped into her business-class seat.
“A big, big glass of chardonnay, please,” she said to the flight attendant, indicating a glass roughly the size of a whole bottle.
Her problems hadn’t ended, naturally. Due to weather delays, planes were banked up in the queue to take off. Her flight didn’t leave until nearly forty minutes after scheduled departure. There was nothing she could do about this, she told herself, sipping her wine. No way to make the plane go faster. Relax. Even if she missed the concert Finn would still be in Seattle or Fairhaven. She would find him.
“More wine, ma’am?” The flight attendant held the bottle over her glass.
“No, thanks. Could I get a coffee?” She needed to wake up. She felt as if she’d been sleeping nearly all her adult life.
Sleep working. Was that a thing? If so, it’s what she’d been doing. There was nothing wrong with working hard, she believed in it. But she’d been working to cover up the fact that she had no life. No love. For a moment she felt as if she were suffocating. Was this what Finn’s panic attacks felt like?
Suddenly it was imperative that she tell him how she felt about him. She didn’t want to spend the next twelve years wondering what would have happened if only she’d had enough courage to say what was in her heart. She would find a job with another firm on the west coast. Or she could strike out on her own. What mattered was to be with Finn. She didn’t care what he did for a living whether it was writing songs or working in a record store.
By her calculations, the plane would touch down at 10:15 p.m. She would be lucky to catch the last half hour of his performance.
* * *
FROM BACKSTAGE, FINN peered through a crack in the black velvet curtains at the nightclub. The enormous room was only half full. Enough house lights were on that he could see his mother and father sitting at a table near the front, nursing a couple of drinks. A coat was slung over a third chair but there was no sign of Carly.
He reached for his cell to check if she’d sent a message, but his phone wasn’t in his jacket pocket. Then he made a face as a clear image came to him of leaving it on the passenger seat of his car. Of all the times...
She hadn’t said she would come. But she hadn’t said she wouldn’t, either. He loved her, though, and he believed she loved him. He had to have faith that what they meant to each other would outweigh all the obstacles.
He also had to have faith that when he went out on that stage tonight his case of nerves wouldn’t escalate to panic. The virtual reality therapy had left him feeling like a new man. However, nothing was certain until he was put to the test.
Leroy and Billy had been surprised and disgruntled when Finn took over as band leader but they’d accepted the change after Dingo admitted he was relieved to relinquish the reins. As Dingo had predicted, Leith had left the band with no hard feelings on either side.
From the beginning Finn showed himself to be decisive and firm. Discipline was key to any kind of success and a band was no exception. He’d given them music to learn while he was at the clinic and they’d rehearsed hard with the result that half their short playlist would be his original songs.
“Everyone ready?” he said, turning back to the guys and Annie. He got a thumbs-up from Leroy and Dingo as they moved into their positions. Billy nodded and kicked an electrical lead out of his way. Annie hummed scales under her breath. She’d toned down her makeup and dyed her hair a rich auburn instead of black. Her clothes weren’t as tight or else she’d lost a little weight. Either way, she looked terrific.
“Here’s the final playlist,” Finn said, handing out slips of paper. “We’ve only got an hour to make an impression. Let’s rock this joint.”
“There’s hardly anybody here,” Billy said.
“We’re the warm-up act,” Leroy explained. “The place won’t fill up till just before the main event.”
“People will filter in over the next hour,” Finn said. “We give it our all whether there’s ten people in the audience or ten thousand.” He walked around the stage, giving them each a high five. “Years from now you’ll remember that this was the night your life changed forever.”
He heard the MC introduce them and stepped behind the keyboard, one of a bank of three keyboards.
The curtain rose. The lights came on.
“One, two, one, two, three, four...” Finn nodded the beats, checking the guys were with him. Then he brought his splayed hands down on the resounding opening chord.
* * *
CARLY TEXTED FRANTICALLY all the way to the RockAround. No one was answering her texts now, not even Nora. That could be good, or bad.
When the taxi dropped her off out front, she joined the lineup to get in. These people had arrived late like her although probably they’d only come to hear the headline act. Carly caught a riff of exuberant piano music and she realized it was coming from people’s phones. Was it being transmitted by friends inside? The crowd was restless at the slowness of the bouncers and wanted in. Clearly whatever was going on in there had caught their interest.
Once inside, she moved with the stream of concertgoers through the outer corridor toward the main room. The buzz of noise grew as she got closer and she was propelled insid
e by the jostling crowd during the lull between songs. When her eyes adjusted to the dark room she saw that people were crammed in, standing between the tables and along the walls.
Under a blazing spotlight Finn stood front and center, surrounded by banks of keyboards. He lifted his hands and then brought them crashing down, signaling the beginning of the next song. A roar went up from the crowd.
Carly felt a visceral thrill run through her at the first sound of his deep and powerful voice. He stood tall and broad-shouldered, legs braced as he pounded out the music, his wild black hair haloed by the klieg lights. One by one, the other band members joined in, adding their instruments to the growing power of the music.
Then another spotlight came on and Annie stepped to the microphone. Carly barely recognized the teenager with her auburn hair and sexy, confident movements. And those weren’t the clothes she’d picked out with Carly. They were more refined. The other band members, too, had stepped up their look with more fashionable jeans and shirts.
Finn looked every inch the rock star in a black, fitted shirt with the sleeves rolled up over muscular forearms roped with leather and silver, his long legs encased in ripped black skinny jeans. Tall leather boots completed his pirate look. His racing hands chased rippling chords over the keys. The music was energetic, almost muscular but also melodic and catchy. It fell somewhere between pop and rock and classical, embodying the best elements of all three. Carly’s heart swelled with pride. It was unique. It was Finn.
There was no hope of finding Nora and Bob’s table so she stayed where she was and let the music roll through her. Tears spilled down her cheeks. If Finn never did anything else, this performance would be remembered forever by every single person in this room.
The crowd went wild when the song ended and the curtain fell, stamping and shouting and whistling their approval. The curtain rose again on an empty stage. Still the cheering went on and on. One by one, the band came back on. First Leroy sat at his drums and beat out a rolling tap tap tap to usher in Billy, who picked up his bass guitar and plucked out a melody that sounded vaguely familiar. Then Dingo loped on and picked up his guitar, spraying the room with a virtuoso guitar lick that had the audience cheering. Annie slipped in to a burst of applause, shaking a tambourine and grinning from ear to ear.