The Darling Songbirds

by Rachael Herron

  Doors don’t lock, and the beds are gone,

  Roof is open to the break of dawn,

  Hotel can’t hold more than one or two

  But it’s all good when that’s me and you.

  The room was silent behind her words. They were listening. They were supporting her. Adele remembered this feeling – the way the audience could either tear you down or hold you up. They were holding her now, and thank God they were – her spine was liquid and her hairline damp with sweat. Fear danced through her, and still she could only see his outline in the dark.

  She gathered every ounce of bravery she could and kept singing.

  This saloon is old, and some wood is broke,

  The floor is rough, the air is smoke,

  The roof, it leaks, and the door’s untrue,

  But it’s paradise when I’m here with you.

  The lights out back, they dip and sway,

  You took the stars and you made them stay.

  You held this place and you made it new,

  And I confess …

  No.

  Adele couldn’t sing the last words. She just couldn’t. They were ridiculous.

  She’d written the song, and she’d thought it would work a miracle. She was so stupid for thinking this would be okay, that this would help, that this would do anything but humiliate her in front of a town full of people who seemed to care about her. She’d run – if she just stuck the mike back in the stand and started running –

  Then a voice rose out of the dark.

  ‘And I confess …’ His voice. Rich, dark as the bar, and warm.

  Clumsily, she strummed the abandoned chord. Then she raised her voice to join Nate’s. Together, they sang the words that had been ripped from her soul and hung between them, like the line of stars in the courtyard. They sang the line that was inevitable, the only way the song could end.

  ‘And I confess, I’m in love with you.’

  Then he was on the stage, the guitar pressed between their bodies, and he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back and laughing and there was clapping from somewhere close by, but really, there was only him, there was only Nate.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she started, and she was. ‘I’m so sorry – I did everything the wrong way. From the very beginning. From the moment I walked in here and didn’t see immediately what was important.’ Him. Nate was the most important.

  ‘So did I. Adele –’

  ‘Wait. Can we start over?’

  He gave a short laugh. ‘All the way to the beginning?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘We can try.’

  Behind them, the jukebox started playing an old Porter Wagoner tune. Adele tugged Nate’s hand, pulling him offstage, almost tripping as she went. She felt his other hand at her waist, making sure she stayed steady. She dragged him into an even darker corner, under the broken Coors sign. Then she stuck out her hand. ‘Hi. I’m Adele Darling.’

  ‘Nate Houston. You’re sure pretty.’

  Adele grabbed for breath as his arms went around her waist. Her mouth was inches from his. She would not kiss him, not now, even though it was all her body wanted. ‘Nice to meet you. What I’d really like to find out about the Golden Spike is – well, maybe its financial paperwork …’

  ‘Screw this place.’

  ‘What?’ Adele had a whole plan – to start over, to start honestly.

  ‘I don’t give a shit about this place.’

  ‘You love it.’

  ‘I love you. Everything else, every single thing, is secondary.’

  If his arms hadn’t been around her waist, her legs would have buckled. As it was, she sagged a little. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh? That’s your response to me telling you I love you?’

  ‘I just …’ Tears came to her eyes.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve always been a songbird.’

  Nate kissed her cheek, catching the tear. ‘And?’

  ‘But this is the first time I’ve really been able to fly.’ She leaned her forehead against his. ‘I love you. I love you so much I might die of it.’

  ‘Oh, God, Adele. I thought you were going to break my heart,’ he said, moving his lips to her hair, his hand against her cheek. ‘Isn’t that your job?’

  ‘No, no. I don’t break things.’ She smiled at him. ‘I fix them.’

  EPILOGUE

  ‘Oh, my,’ said Adele.

  ‘What do you think?’ Norma spread her arms wide. ‘The suit was my father’s.’ Instead of Norma’s usual flowing skirts, she wore a Santa Claus suit that looked the worse for its years: the enormous and frayed red suit was belted at the midpoint of her girth. She wore a Santa hat that stood so high she’d had to duck as she entered the room, and a fluffy white something perched precariously above her bosom. ‘My beard!’ Norma said and pulled it up for a second. ‘It’s itchy, though.’ She let it fall again. Four or five necklaces of bells were strung around her neck, and she jingled merrily with each breath.

  ‘Is that – how did you …?’

  ‘Three full strings of outdoor Christmas lights.’ Norma was lit like a holiday sale at Walmart, all flashing coloured lights and twinkles.

  ‘How did you do that?’

  Norma opened the top of the red jacket to display a dozen wires taped to a tie-dyed T-shirt. ‘Full battery pack, with a DC converter.’

  ‘You look like a mad bomber.’

  Norma looked pleased. ‘Thank you! Dixie! A martini! Make it minty and seasonal!’

  Adele hurried to the stage, hoping that no epileptics got too close to Norma tonight – if anyone could trigger a seizure, it would be her.

  Dixie, already pouring gin into a shaker, called, ‘You have two more messages from the media.’

  ‘No more!’ called Adele. ‘If they want to sing small-town carols, they can just show up like the rest of them.’ Adele jiggled the amp’s plug in the socket and then tested the speakers.

  It was going to be a big night at the Golden Spike. Adele had been running since early morning, making sure the soda vendor came (he hadn’t last week, and half the bridge club had complained about it – the other half happy enough to drink whiskey). Adele had swept and mopped the floors an extra time, and she’d polished the bar until the wood gleamed. She’d rearranged the storeroom so that they’d have more space for the two extra kegs of pumpkin-flavoured beer that should be arriving any minute.

  The saloon and its holiday singalong had been written up, and not just in the local paper. Not sure they’d be interested in her little announcement, Adele had sent both the San Francisco Chronicle and the Eureka Times-Standard a press release anyway. Holiday Singalong and Hootenanny at the Golden Spike.

  The media loved it. A Darling Songbird, home for the holidays, leading the Christmas carols, with ‘local favourite’ Dust & Rusty backing everyone up. It was delicious small-town flavour and after the papers had run it, two different affiliate TV stations had showed up, antennae sprouting from the vans’ roofs. Adele had given three interviews already, and it wasn’t even fully dark yet. Every spare room in town was rented, and Adele wished for the millionth time they’d had a chance to fix up even one extra room in the hotel above.

  But running the saloon was proving a full-time job. She loved it, but it wasn’t easy.

  ‘Hey, Earl Cornejo called and asked if he could kick things off with the bagpipes.’ Dixie’s words were punctuated by the ice clattering in the shaker.

  ‘Of course he can. When’s Nate coming?’ Adele knew Nate and Dixie had had lunch together that afternoon.

  Dixie rattled the shaker harder.

  ‘Hey, Dixie. When’s Nate coming in? I think his cell phone is dead. He hasn’t answered my texts all afternoon.’

  Instead of answering the question, Dixie slid the martini to Norma. ‘Minty fresh, like holiday toothpaste! Now you’ll be ready for the mistletoe.’

  ‘Dixie?’ Adele straightened, wiping her dusty hands on her jeans.

  Blink
ing quickly, Dixie said, ‘Yeah?’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Dixie shook her head hard. ‘Absolutely nothing! Why?’

  ‘Why aren’t you looking at me? What are you hiding?’

  Dixie pressed a hand to her chest. ‘Me? Nothing. Nothing at all.’

  Norma, too, was staring too hard at the photo of Hugh and Donna above the bar, as if they might start moving in the frame.

  ‘Something’s going on, and you both know it. I want to know what it is.’

  Dixie leaned forward, her hands flat on the bar. She spoke in a stage whisper. ‘Nate has a little surprise for you. But don’t you dare let on that I said anything.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Are you kidding me? He may not be my boss anymore, but I’m still not risking his wrath.’

  ‘Wait. I am your boss. I order you to tell me.’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Well, then, you’re fired.’

  ‘Again? You’re so trigger-happy.’ Unconcerned, Dixie turned the overhead TV to the Yule log channel. ‘Here we go.’

  ‘Fine. Don’t tell me.’ A shiver of excitement slid up Adele’s spine. She couldn’t imagine what the surprise might be, but whatever it was, she knew it would be good. One night, Nate had gotten a serious look on his face that had both thrilled and terrified her, and then he’d fastened a chain around her neck. The pendant was his mother’s two-month sobriety chip.

  There was no present he could give her that would ever mean more to her than that.

  ‘Did he go back to work after your lunch?’ She couldn’t remember what he’d said his schedule was today, but if it was like other days, it would be gruelling. Nate came home exhausted from his long days of work with Adult Protective Services, and he sometimes had haunted shadows behind his eyes from what he’d seen. He would lie with Adele on the old parlour sofa and together they’d listen to the quiet noises of the street below. She would kiss his temple and listen to him, and then she’d tell him what she’d accomplished at the Spike that day (always less than she wanted to – there was still so much to do). Then he’d kiss her, really, truly kiss her, and the whole world melted away.

  Adele wrapped her fingers around her necklace. The jukebox, as if warming up for the night to come, swung into a country version of ‘O, Come All Ye Faithful’. Norma laughed at something Dixie had said, and Parrot Freddy came in, both birds on his shoulders. He said they sometimes sang along to ‘Jingle Bells’, and Adele was hoping to hear their version at some point in the evening.

  But sweet Patsy Cline, what was the surprise?

  Adele stood at the edge of the stage and tucked one more strand of tinsel around the extra microphone stands. She heard the swinging door slap open, then closed.

  ‘Come on now, this place doesn’t look so bad.’

  The voice came from behind her. Everything in Adele’s body stilled. Her brain replayed the words once, and then once again.

  She turned slowly. The hope – if she was wrong – would kill her. And if she was right, the happiness might do exactly the same.

  ‘Hi,’ said Molly.

  It was Molly, her Molly. She looked tired, dark circles under her eyes. Her black shirt-dress hung on her, as if she’d recently lost weight.

  Adele launched herself at her sister, almost knocking her down with the force of her hug. ‘You, you, you. You came. You came home.’

  Then Adele didn’t know who was crying harder: her, or Molly, or Norma, who was wiping away her tears with her Santa beard.

  ‘How did you get here? How long are you staying? Have you met Nate?’

  Because Nate was there, standing behind Molly, with the most satisfied look on his face.

  ‘We met,’ said Molly, sniffing hard. ‘He got me here. It’s been hell trying to keep it a secret.’

  ‘I can’t believe –’ Adele swallowed the sob in her throat. ‘Thank you.’ She met his eye. Thank you. She’d tell him more, so much more, later. If he’d scrambled up a ladder to steal her the moon, he couldn’t have brought her anything that could make her happier.

  ‘We’re singing tonight,’ Adele said, and even headier joy filled her – if she drank all the liquor in the bar, she couldn’t be drunker on happiness. ‘We’re singing. Together.’

  Molly nodded. ‘I got here in time, then.’

  ‘Will you stay for Christmas? Please stay. Please stay.’

  Molly bit her lower lip and then nodded. ‘Yes. But don’t push. Okay? One step at a time.’

  Adele held up her hands. ‘Promise.’ Then her hand fell and she clutched the chip at her throat. ‘Oh, Molly.’

  Her sister turned in place. ‘You’ll have to show me everything. The wreckage. All of it.’

  ‘I will. I will.’

  ‘And introduce me to everyone.’

  Nate laughed. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. Every single resident will be in here trying to catch a glance of you tonight. Word’s already spread.’ He looked suspiciously at Adele. ‘You really didn’t know?’

  Adele leaned against him, grateful for his bulk, for his solidity. ‘Not a clue.’

  ‘Hey, that isn’t the old jukebox,’ said Molly. She moved forward to look at it.

  Nate dropped a kiss on the top of Adele’s head. ‘Happy?’

  ‘It would be impossible for me to be happier. It would probably be illegal.’ Unless Lana was here. It was an ungrateful thought, and Adele banished it. This, right here, was all she needed. She wrapped her arm around Nate’s waist. ‘How am I going to thank you?’

  Molly moved to the middle of the floor and looked out the side window, towards the shuttered café.

  Nate said, ‘You were standing right there when I first saw you.’

  ‘And you hated me.’

  ‘I loved you. I think I’ve always loved you, even when I didn’t know it.’

  Joy made Adele’s heart soar. She was opening her mouth to respond when Norma, still seated at the bar, gave a screech.

  ‘Lord have mercy! Would you look at this?’ She gave another shrill cry. ‘Look!’ Norma jabbed her finger at the tarot cards. ‘A wedding is on the horizon!’ She looked up from her cards, peeking at Dixie and then over her shoulder at Adele and Nate. ‘And I see a baby here! A baby coming!’

  Adele blinked, hard. Next to her, she could hear Nate swallow.

  ‘And I also see plenty of drinks on the house! I can see it in the cards! Right here, look!’

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Rachael Herron is also the author of five Cypress Hollow novels: Eliza’s Gift, Lucy’s Kiss, Naomi’s Wish, Cora’s Heart and Fiona’s Flame, and one standalone, Pack Up the Moon.

  She received her MFA in writing from Mills College, and when she’s not busy writing, she’s working her other full-time job as a 911 fire/medical dispatcher for a Bay Area fire department.

  As of 2013, she’s a proud New Zealand citizen as well as an American, and she is a member of the NaNoWriMo Writers Board. She is currently hard at work on the second Darling Songbirds novel, which will feature Molly’s story, due to be released in early 2017.

  Also by Rachael Herron

  Cypress Hollow Books

  Eliza’s Gift

  (US title: How to Knit a Love Song)

  Lucy’s Kiss

  (US title: How to Knit a Heart Back Home)

  Naomi’s Wish

  (US title: Wishes and Stitches)

  Cora’s Heart

  Fiona’s Flame

  Eliza’s Home

  (Ebook novella)

  *

  Pack Up the Moon

  The Little Book of Knitting Wisdoms

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val system without the prior written permission of Penguin Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  The Darling Songbirds

  ePub ISBN – 9780857988966

  First published by Bantam Australia in 2016

  Copyright © Rachael Herron 2016

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  A Bantam book

  Published by Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd

  Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060

  www.penguinrandomhouse.com.au

  Addresses for the Penguin Random House group of companies can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com/offices.

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

  Herron, Rachael, author

  The darling songbirds/Rachael Herron

  ISBN 978 0 85798 896 6 (ebook)

  Sisters – Fiction

  Families – Fiction

  Love stories

  813.6

  Cover photographs: hay bales © Shutterstock/Milosz_G; woman © Veer/artsua

  Cover design by Christabella Designs