Bluestone Song

by MJ Fredrick

  She nodded. She had about five hundred of what her father needed in less than a week. So that meant, what, fourteen more weeks of this hell, then hoping Quinn would give her back her old job. Would Maddox still be in Bluestone by then? Unlikely.

  “I miss hearing you play,” she blurted.

  He paused and angled his head to look at her. “Do you? We could arrange a private show if you’d like.”

  She would not let that crooked smile melt her defenses any further. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  “No, I don’t know it, in fact.” He stepped backwards, toward his truck. “Come on over, I’ll play for you.”

  “Oh, yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious. We’ll sit on the deck, have a drink, I’ll play some guitar. Come on.”

  “I need to get home. Linda and Jonas.”

  “You work later than this and they’re okay. Give yourself a couple of hours off.”

  She felt herself softening, but wouldn’t allow herself to wonder why as she nodded and got into her car to lead him to his house.

  The view off the deck was stunning, looking out over the clear blue lake, almost motionless under the quarter moon. Two low outdoor couches sat at angles to best enjoy the view, and his guitar was leaned against one. Beth sat on the other while he went inside to get them drinks. Pop, she suspected, and was right when he returned with two highball glasses of ginger ale. He sat beside her on the couch, stretching his arm over the back of the seat. She stiffened, mostly against the desire she felt to lean back into him. She’d become comfortable with him the past week, not to the levels she’d had back when they were kids, but enough that she could think about him with fondness.

  “I thought you were going to play for me.”

  “I just want to enjoy the view here for a bit,” he said, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a small sip.

  “It is beautiful out here.”

  “And quiet. I forget how to be quiet. Forget what quiet’s like.”

  “Every night when I get home, or when I got home from Quinn’s, anyway, I’d sit out on my deck and listen to the quiet.”

  “Why don’t you do it now?”

  “Too tired. All I want is my bed.” As soon as she said the words, she regretted them, feeling self-conscious when he shifted beside her.

  “I had a lot of nights like that. A lot of days when I never even saw the sky except running from one place to another. So now I’m here, I’m spending as much time as possible outside.”

  “So when are you going back?”

  He shrugged. “I have a concert in Texas on the Fourth of July, and I should be in rehearsals. Same songs I do all the damned time, same way I do them. I don’t need to rehearse.” He blew out a breath. “I know that sounds arrogant. What I mean to say is that it’s the same thing I’ve been doing for a while. I know what I’m doing. Besides, I don’t have any new songs.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He took another sip, this time crunching on a piece of ice. “Hard to write sober.”

  She pulled her legs up on the cushion. “You used to do it all the time when we were kids.”

  “And then I didn’t.”

  “So being out here hasn’t helped?”

  He eased back to look at her. “It has, a little. I’ve written a couple of things. Not sure how good any of it is, but I’ve been fooling around.”

  “Can I hear?”

  He gave her a half smile, like he’d been wanting her to ask, set his ginger ale on the table beside him and leaned forward to pick up his guitar, an expensive one, more than the Gibson she’d bought him all those years ago. He probably didn’t have that one any longer.

  Pushing the regret aside, she shifted to give him room as he tuned it—only a bit, which let her know he’d been playing earlier. His long fingers wrapped around the neck, and he pulled a pick from mid-air, noodling a bit on the strings before easing into a melody that carried over the lake. She’d always loved watching his fingers move over the strings, because they’d moved with the same dexterity over her skin, the calluses he had from playing adding another sensual layer to his caress. She grew warm, remembering, wondering how different the man was than the boy she’d loved.

  She turned her attention back to the lake, leaned her head against the back of the seat, and closed her eyes, letting herself drift. He didn’t sing tonight, just played the melodies, and she felt her body melt into the cushions. She couldn’t remember the last time she was so relaxed.

  “I like that one,” she said when he stopped, not opening her eyes.

  “I need to find the right words for it. It might make a good duet.”

  “Mm. I like your duets.”

  The guitar vibrated when he set it on the deck. “You listen to my music?”

  “Nope.” She opened her eyes a slit and smiled. “Never heard one of your songs.”

  “Which one’s your favorite?”

  “The one about staying here a little while.”

  “That’s Jason Aldean.”

  “The one about kissing or not.”

  “Thompson Square.”

  “The one about you being a little drunk in the middle of the night.”

  “Lady Antebellum.” He shifted on the seat so his hip was against her thigh. “Be serious, Beth.”

  “If I tell you, you might read too much into it.”

  “So what if I do?”

  “I like the one where you sing about coming home, where things are simple.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Funny, that’s kind of what I thought I’d write about for this new song. Maybe a bit about the girl who got away.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What about the dog that got away, or the fish, or the--?”

  “Shut up,” he said, and curved his hand around the back of her head. He hesitated only a second, to give her time to protest, then slanted his mouth over hers.

  His lips were warm and dry and she sighed her approval, parting her lips just enough to invite him deeper. He took the invitation, curling his other hand at her waist and angling over her so her breasts pressed against his chest, and she used every ounce of self-control not to arch into him, though everything feminine inside her wanted to. She twined her fingers through his short, straight hair and let his tongue coax her into play. So much was familiar about his style, but there was a layer of sophistication now, a level of control. He’d learned a lot about control when they were kids and she’d held him off, had learned a lot about kissing, too, but this was different. This had her thinking about how much control he’d have in bed, how much pleasure he could bring her.

  Lord, it had been a long time since she’d slept with someone—raising three kids put a kibosh on that. And the other guys had been—underwhelming. She had a feeling grown-up Maddox would be pretty amazing.

  He shifted so that his hip pressed into her thigh and she could feel the effect their kiss was having on him. The kiss, the moonlight, the fresh air, the music…when they were kids they could spend all night kissing. Now she wanted more.

  The thought scared her to her soul. Because if she took more with Maddox, she’d want it all. And he would be gone in a matter of weeks. She didn’t want to say good-bye again. She was stronger now, but—

  She rested her hand to his shoulder and eased back. “I need to go home.”

  “I just want to kiss you, Beth.”

  “But I don’t just want to kiss you.”

  Her meaning took a moment to register, and his nostrils flared, his eyes darkening. “Really?”

  “But we can’t.” She wanted to convince her body of that even more than she wanted to convince him, because wanting was the most dangerous thing she could do.

  “Why not?”

  “So many reasons.” But her blood ran hot right now, especially with him looking at her like that, running his fingers through her hair like that, she couldn’t think of any of them, except that he would leave her and she’d be alone. “I need to get home to L
inda and Jonas. It’s getting late.”

  He sat slowly. “All right. You want me to follow you?”

  She shook her head, surprised he didn’t put up more of an argument. “No, I’ll be fine from here. Thank you for—” She motioned toward the ginger ale and stood, wiping her hand on her jeans, still able to feel the softness of his hair against her palm. “Thank you.”

  Before he could stand to walk her out, she made her escape.

  All the tension she’d left on the couch cushions at Maddox’s came flooding back double-time when she saw three strange cars parked in front of her house. Every light in the house appeared to be on, and the dull thud of music permeated the walls, unlike Maddox’s melodic strumming. Anger tightening every line of her body, Beth slammed the car door and marched up to the house. She flung open the door to see her sister draped over a boy, one arm around his neck as she sat on his lap kissing him, her other hand holding a beer. Another couple was sitting nearby, a little deeper into their make-out session, and another boy sat in the chair by the back door watching. Beer cans and a few empty liquor bottles were scattered around the living room. Jonas was nowhere in sight.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Beth crossed the room and yanked the stereo plug, flooding the room with sudden silence. She looked first at her stunned sister, then at the boy whose lap she sat on. Not Jonathan, Jonas’s father. Beth couldn’t remember his first name, but he was one of the Westley boys. With a quick glance she saw the other girl was Vivian Marcel, Linda’s best friend, but she didn’t know the other two boys. Vivian and her partner and scrambled apart and to their feet, but Linda only stared stupidly at her, one arm still looped about the Westley boy’s neck.

  “You’re home early.”

  “Is this what you’ve been doing since I’ve gone to work? Having parties? You have school tomorrow.” Dread weighted her stomach. Had Linda been going to summer school? She’d just assumed, but maybe…

  “Relax. Not every night. Just—a couple times. Just friends.” Linda unwound herself from the boy’s lap and swayed to her feet, careful not to spill her drink.

  Beth strode over and snatched the half-full can from her sister. “You’re underage and you’re a mother. You need--”

  “Oh, God, are you going to go into the whole responsibility thing again? Just because you didn’t have a life when we were growing up doesn’t mean I can’t have one. Jonas is fine. He’s asleep. I checked on him just two—beers ago.” She exchanged a look with Vivian and burst into giggles.

  The urge to check for herself was strong. But she didn’t want to let the other teens leave yet. They couldn’t be allowed to drive in the condition they were in.

  She walked over to the Westley boy first, hand outstretched. “Keys.”

  The boy looked startled. “I’m okay to drive.”

  “No, you aren’t. You either hand me your keys and start walking home or I call your parents to come get you. You can get your car in the morning when you’re sober.” She looked over her shoulder at the other three. “That goes for all of you. Keys or phone calls.”

  “You’re just going to tell our parents tomorrow anyway,” Vivian said petulantly.

  Beth hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. “Tomorrow’s better than two in the morning, don’t you think? I’m not letting you drive, and don’t you think they’ll wonder where your cars are? Keys. Now.”

  One by one they handed over their keys, reluctantly, and shuffled out the door. Beth was glad she’d come home when she did. She couldn’t imagine what she might have walked in on a few moments later.

  Once the others were gone, she turned to her sister. “You clean up this room now. I’m going to check on Jonas.”

  “I told you he was okay.”

  Beth pivoted on her sister, the temper she’d reined in slipping its leash. “Pardon me if I don’t trust the words coming out of your mouth. Clean up, take a shower and get to bed. I’ll make sure personally that you get to class bright and early tomorrow.”

  Beth moved down the hall to the bedroom illuminated with a Disney night-light she’d gotten at the dollar store. At least Linda was telling the truth. Jonas slept on his back, his breathing peaceful in the sudden quiet. He squirmed a little when Beth bent to kiss him, and she straightened, tears streaming down her cheeks. What was she going to do about her sister?

  The alarm came too early for both of them. Beth fed and changed Jonas while Linda got ready, very slowly thanks to her hangover. Beth showed no sympathy, slamming cabinets and calling to her sister every five minutes to hurry her along. When they walked out front, two of the three cars remained. Beth wondered whose parents had a second set of keys.

  It didn’t matter, though. She had to get her sister to school, then she’d deal with the rest. She’d lain awake long hours after she went to bed, trying to figure out what to do, only to drift off moments before the alarm went off.

  She pulled up in front of the school, unstrapped Jonas from the car seat, and followed her sister up the walk to the front door.

  Linda pivoted. “I’m here. You can see that, right?”

  “I just need to talk to the counselor for a bit.” To see how many summer school days she’d missed. To maybe have someone help her figure out how to straighten her sister out.

  She wished she had someone to turn to, and hated that her thoughts went instantly to Maddox. No. He wasn’t the one to help her. She didn’t want him to see how she’d failed. Maybe, if she couldn’t get help here, she’d talk to Trinity, though going to the preacher’s sister intimidated her—even if she knew the woman in question was pregnant on her way up the aisle. She followed Linda in, and her sister didn’t even say good-bye as she peeled off to go to her class. She waited to see Linda actually enter a class, then turned toward the office, Jonas pressed against her shoulder.

  She hated that her sister hadn’t even kissed her son good-bye. Beth had always been affectionate with her siblings, to make up for their mother’s absence and their father’s lack. Why did Linda not feel the same toward her child?

  She had to wait a few minutes to be seen, and found herself dozing in the molded plastic chair before her name was called. She sat upright, gathered her purse with an extra bottle and a couple of extra diapers, hefted Jonas higher and walked into the counselor’s office.

  The young woman across from her was only a couple years older than Beth, and hadn’t been here the last time Beth came to talk to the counselor, when they found out Linda was pregnant and needed to look at options. That had been an older woman who had been kind but firmly believed Linda should give up the child. Beth shifted Jonas nervously, and he began to fuss.

  “I’m Linda Lapointe’s sister, her guardian, and I was wondering how she’s doing in her summer classes, if she’s going.”

  The other woman, whose nameplate on the desk read Claire Bellows, sat back in her chair, looking from Jonas to Beth. “Are you raising him now?”

  “I’m helping out while Linda goes to school. She has been coming to school, right?”

  Ms. Bellows typed something on her laptop and checked the screen over the tops of her glasses. “She’s missed three days.”

  “Three days of summer school?” She eased Jonas onto her lap where he could look at her. Summer school had only been in session, what, a week and a half? “How many can she miss before she won’t get credit?”

  “Three’s the max. We do a lot of work in a short time here, so she needs to be in class every day.”

  “She’s been leaving the house,” Beth said when she saw the accusation in Ms. Bellows’s gaze. She thought of the days Trinity had given up to watch Jonas, and the little sneak hadn’t even been coming to school. “And her work? Has she been turning it in?”

  “You’d have to ask her teachers that. I have no record of that.”

  Beth’s exhaustion was catching up to her, and Ms. Bellows’s attitude was off-putting, to say the least. “Well, do you talk to her? She’s an at-risk student, a single mom
raised by a guardian. Don’t you talk to her on a regular basis?”

  “You may know that Linda is a—difficult girl to get through to.”

  “Right, but you’re trained for that, right?”

  “Sure, but she’s at a stage where she’s cut herself off from any authority figure. She won’t listen to any of us. I presume you’re facing the same difficulty.”

  “I am.” Jonas wriggled, his mouth open to cry, and Beth popped a pacifier into his mouth. He sucked noisily, but looked at her accusingly for fooling him.

  Beth debated for a moment telling this young woman about Linda’s drinking, but her innate need for privacy prevented her from doing so. She didn’t feel comfortable in here, and wanted to leave, but she also needed help to reach Linda.

  “We can’t give up on her,” Beth said. “She doesn’t understand what she’s throwing away, how hard she’s making her future. I didn’t get to go to college, so I’m limited, but I want her to be able to go. Maybe if someone who isn’t me talks to her about it—there’s got to be someone here she respects, or likes.”

  “I’ll ask around,” the other woman said without much conviction. “Let me ask—I know it isn’t easy for two young women to raise a baby, when you have to work and she has school. Have you considered—it isn’t too late to put him up for adoption.”

  Beth picked Jonas up from her lap so fast that he squawked and lost his pacifier. Beth was shaking so much she didn’t even bother reaching for it. Anger heated every pore in her body as she rose, Jonas clutched to her chest. “Out of the question. He’s part of our lives now, and I couldn’t give him away like an unwanted puppy.” She reached for the door handle. “I appreciate your time,” she managed, and hurried out the door and down the hall.

  She sat in the car a long moment, waiting for the trembling to subside. She wouldn’t let Linda give up Jonas now. She couldn’t. Maybe it was for the best, but she’d sooner cut off her arm or leg than part with him.

  Finally feeling calm enough to drive, she turned the ignition and headed home, to see Trinity waiting for her.