Plan Overboard (Toronto Series #14)

by Wardell, Heather

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Travis stands up as Jenna and I approach the table. "Lovely to see you, both of you," he says, smiling at me. "But where's your boyfriend?"

  "Just outside," I say as I settle Jenna in her carrier onto a chair. I've missed my gentle grandfatherly boss, so when he called last night to invite me and Jenna and "the boyfriend Galen's told me about" to have dinner with him it was an easy decision. Austin's not my boyfriend, but I don't see the point of explaining that to Travis. "Austin got a call from work as we were walking from the parking lot, but he should be done in about fifteen minutes and he wanted me to apologize to you."

  Travis and I take our seats and he says, "Good on him for taking care of business even on Sunday night. He sounds like a solid guy."

  "He is," I say, and my hand moves on its own to touch the tiny heart dangling from the beautiful silver bracelet Austin gave me this morning. I hadn't even realized today was the one-month anniversary of our reconnection, and if I had I wouldn't have expected him to give me a present for such a tiny milestone, but it's so sweet of him I can't stop touching it.

  "Excellent. You deserve one." He smiles at me. "Now, I did have an ulterior motive for this dinner, I'm afraid. Would you be willing to spare me a few moments for work? The temp assistant we have is... well, let's just say she's making you look even better than you looked before."

  I laugh. "Then I'm glad you've got her, I guess, although it's not so good for you. And of course I'm fine with a little work." I'm still his employee, after all, even though I'm on leave.

  Travis pulls out a sheaf of papers from his briefcase and we set to, pausing only to order a glass of wine for him and an iced tea for me. We're just wrapping up when Austin arrives. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek then takes the chair next to mine and says, "Getting some work done? Carry on if you need to."

  "We're done, actually. You must be Austin. I'm Travis."

  They shake hands and Travis adds, "Your work under control?"

  Austin nods. "For now."

  "Good stuff. I admire a man who'll go to work on Sunday."

  "Or a woman," Austin says, smiling at me.

  "Especially one who's on leave," Travis agrees. "But I'm not surprised. She's by far the best assistant we've ever had."

  I can't help grinning. "Really?"

  "Most definitely." Travis pats my hand. "We're counting the days until you come back." He clears his throat. "You are coming back, right?"

  "For sure." Partly because I need the money, but also because I really enjoyed working for him and Tyler.

  His face relaxes. "Wonderful. So, should we check out our menus?"

  We do, and we order and eat our dinners while we chat about nothing. I finish my meal before the men do, and feel like it's okay to excuse myself to the bathroom since they seem comfortable together and Jenna is sound asleep in her carrier.

  When I return, though, Travis looks horrified and Austin is clearly furious. Before I've even taken my seat again, they both speak at once.

  "I'm sorry—"

  "Why didn't you—"

  I look from one to the other. "What's going on?"

  Travis shakes his head. "It's my fault, Corinne, I'm sorry. I..." He gets up. "I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes."

  He hurries away and I turn to Austin. "What's—"

  "Why didn't I know that you could audition again?"

  Horror filling me, I press my hand to my mouth and say through it, "He told you?"

  "He didn't mean to. He just mentioned it because he assumed I knew. Which I should have. Why didn't I?"

  Because he'd have encouraged me to go after it. And that would have made me reconsider the plan I made back in those horrible frozen days after the audition. The plan that might... be...

  The shock as the realization hits me, the realization of how much I dread the idea of having been wrong when I decided to stop being a musician, silences me, but I force it away. No, I wasn't wrong. I wasn't. I sigh. "I don't know. Because there was no reason to tell you."

  "What do you mean? Of course there was. I can help you get there. I can take care of Jenna when you need to practice," he says, like it's obvious.

  It is, sort of, but... "I couldn't ask you to do that. It's way too much time and you don't really like changing her diapers and—"

  "Name me three people who actually like changing diapers," he says. "I know you're not one of them."

  He's got me there, since we both know I was griping about a particularly bad one yesterday minutes after we got home from picking her up after the improv group. "Yeah, but..."

  "But what?" Austin says when I don't continue. Then his hand closes into a fist on the table. His jaw tight, he says, "Do you not trust me with her? Is that it?"

  Hating that his mind jumps to that, I say, "I do trust you. I did right from the beginning, you know, from the very first day, because you were so careful. You've been great with her, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

  He has been great, far better than I'd ever thought he could be, and my sincerity must come across because his face relaxes.

  "You're great with everything," I say. "With me and all my neuroses. But... I can't do this."

  He reaches out and takes my hand. There's no anger in his voice now, only confusion. "You're not neurotic. But tell me why. I've heard you play and I can't imagine you can't get in. Hell, you almost did last time. So if it does interest you, and I'm not hearing that it doesn't, why not go for it again?"

  "That's why," I admit, my throat tightening. "Because I almost did. What if I almost do again this time? I'd be a failure again."

  "You weren't one then, so you can't be one 'again'," he says. "And so what? You'd have given it your best shot."

  I don't know what to say to explain to him how I feel. I did give it my best shot. I literally gave it years of my life. The thought of doing it all over again now that I know how awful I'll feel if I fail? I can't face it.

  But there's something else that I can tell him. "Thinking I'd never get another try," I say, "is what made me think about what else I wanted in my life. That's what made me go after having Jenna. If I'd known I'd get this chance..." I glance at her in the carrier, and her sleeping face fills my heart with an almost painful love. "I wouldn't have had her. And I hate the thought of how different my life would be without her. But I also hate that..." I swallow hard. "I guess I hate that I want both things and I can't have them."

  Austin's frowning. "I agree that you can't be totally selfish once you've got kids." He gives me a wry smile. "My mom is, and I know well how bad it feels for the kid." The smile fades. "But you wouldn't be like that. And it's not wrong to have your own interests. Lots of mothers are also in orchestras."

  Frustration fills me. "I know. It's not that."

  "Then what?"

  "I..." I don't know how to say it. I know Jenna would be fine, as long as I got everything planned out right, but it feels like a rejection of her to go after the orchestra.

  His face clears, then fills with sympathy, and he raises my hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. "Are you scared, Miss Corinne?"

  "No," I say softly, realizing at last what all my issues boil down to. "I'm terrified. Totally and utterly terrified that I'll do it again and fail. I made my plan for my after-clarinet life and I thought I'd be sticking to it, and making a new plan to try again... I can't even imagine. It'll change everything."

  He winds his arm around my shoulders. "Do you know how scared I was when I picked up that phone to call you?"

  I shake my head.

  "I honestly thought I'd throw up. And after you called me back and we talked I sat at my desk for ten minutes before I could get up, because my knees were shaking so much. I have never been that scared." He leans in and gives me a short but tender kiss. "But I've also never been so glad I put myself out there. I wouldn't have had all this time with you if I hadn't, and I'd never have met the peach. What if now is your time to get into the orchest
ra? What if I'm here exactly so that can happen for you? We'll never know, if you don't put yourself out there."

  I consider this. I have been given a chance I never thought I'd get, and Austin's presence in my life does make it somewhat possible for me to go after it. But the thought of again standing on that stage and awaiting the results of the audition process ties my stomach into knots, and it would mean devoting nearly every bit of my time and energy for the next while to practicing. I'd barely see poor Jenna, and though Austin does take good care of her he's not her mommy. He's never even been alone with her.

  "When do you have to decide?"

  "November twenty-fourth." The twenty-fourth again.

  He looks up at the ceiling, clearly doing mental math, then back at me. "Three weeks. So no rush."

  There is, actually, because I'm nowhere near audition-level playing at the moment. I take a breath to explain this and he says, "Well, I guess you'd have to start practicing. But you don't have to decide tonight. So. Give it some thought. But know this." He curves one hand over my cheek. "I'm right behind you. Whatever you decide."

  I turn my head and kiss his palm. "Thank you. You're the best."

  He winks at me. "I'm not bad, I admit."

  Travis approaches, stopping several feet from the table, and I wave him over.

  "I'm so sorry," he says again. "I assumed, and I should not have. Corinne, can you forgive me?"

  I nod. I do wish he hadn't told Austin, but it's probably better that he knows now.

  Even though he'll almost certainly encourage me to go after the orchestra and I'm not sure I can resist. Or even want to resist.

  Or should resist?

  *****

  The rest of Sunday passes, and all of Monday, and on Tuesday Austin waits until Jenna's taking her after-dinner nap then says, "So. What's your decision?"

  "I'm still thinking," I say, although I'm not sure that's the right word for the storm of confusion and fear and self-doubt that's been raging non-stop in my head. I did play my clarinet yesterday and today, but only to work on "Bat Out of Hell" and the other songs I did with Austin's friends on Saturday. Playing against the recorded versions of the songs I actually managed to do pretty well and had a good time, but I haven't touched my audition pieces and the idea of how much work they'd take to get into shape makes me want to cry.

  "Time's ticking," he says. "You'll need to start practicing, maybe even get back together with your teacher—"

  I squeeze my eyes shut tight and he cuts himself off. "I know, Austin." I don't want to tell him how I woke up in a cold sweat last night thinking of calling Marty and asking him if he'd take me on again. My long-time teacher had felt bad for me after my failure, of course, but when I'd quit my lessons and quit playing he'd been disgusted at my giving up. I can't imagine asking him to work with me again, but I don't have time to find and get used to another teacher either.

  Austin gives my shoulder a squeeze, and I open my eyes to see him looking sympathetic. "I know it's scary. But if you don't decide it'll get decided for you because you'll run out of time, and I don't think you want that."

  Most of me doesn't, but as he speaks a little part of me thinks how much easier that would be. If I didn't have the option of pushing forward and putting myself out there, I wouldn't feel so awful right now. "I don't," I say, letting the majority of me respond. "But it's not that simple. I have to worry about Jenna. She needs me." She does. That's true. So much. I shouldn't be considering this at all. "No, I can't do it. Jenna... it's not right."

  He leans back in his chair, his eyes widening.

  "What?"

  "I've just clicked."

  "What?" I say again with more force, feeling a sudden irrational anger sweeping me.

  "You're scared."

  "We established that on Saturday."

  My sharp tone doesn't seem to register with him. "Yeah, but... this isn't about Jenna and what she needs. You need her, as an excuse."

  My mouth drops open, and my rage flickers and dies when I most need its support, leaving me wide-open to his words.

  He's right. I am using her as an excuse. She does need me, of course, but not every second. With my planning skills, and Austin's help, I can make the time to practice and prepare.

  I'm just too scared to do it.

  I close my eyes again, hating what I've realized but knowing it's true. I am too afraid to fail to let myself try.

  His arm goes around my shoulders. "Aw, honey," he says softly. "I'm sorry. Shouldn't have said it like that."

  "No," I mumble, "I needed to hear it. I don't like it, but... yeah. I thought it was all behind me, but I do want the music in my life." My throat tightens as I admit what I've been trying to deny for over a year. "I do want it. I've missed it so much and I love having it back. But I can't face being a failure again."

  He pulls away then turns me to face him. "Corinne, for God's sake," he says, his eyes lit with passion. "You are not a failure. You got further than damn near every other clarinetist on the planet. How many people applied and didn't get an audition? How many auditioned and weren't in the top three? You got ninety-nine percent of the way there. Ninety-nine and a half. Why are you so focused on the last half percent?"

  "Dad," something inside me says, sending surprise and shocking pain through me.

  Austin's hands tighten on my shoulders. "What? I saw that. Your eyes went all sad."

  I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. That little something inside is crying, and it hurts. "Yeah. It's... Dad and I went to that performance together back when I was ten and he was so proud when I said I'd be in that orchestra some day. I... he thinks I'm a failure now."

  "He said that?"

  I shake my head. "We haven't talked for ages. He probably doesn't even know I got the audition. But... if he did... he'd think..."

  I can't find the words to continue, but I don't have to. Austin pulls me into a hug, and as he holds me close he says, "My mom says I'm not capable of being in this relationship with you. She truly believes it. I won't let her convince me of it. Don't let him, even the 'him' you're imagining, convince you you're a failure, Corinne. The only person you need to impress is yourself."

  I lock my arms around him. "Don't know how," I mumble into his shoulder.

  He presses a kiss to my hair. "I do. Make a decision and make it the right one. Don't let the calendar decide for you. Admit what you want and go after it. What would you tell Jenna, if she were trying to decide whether to take a chance that could lead to amazing things?"

  He holds me, silently, while I think it over, while my brain works and my stomach twists. It's not so much thinking, really, as letting myself accept what I know. I can't live with being a failure forever. I have to try again. And this time I have to succeed.

  "Austin?"

  "Yes?"

  "Can you watch Jenna while I try to make a plan? I..." I swallow hard. "I want to do it, but I have to make a plan to make sure it'll actually work."

  He draws back enough to look into my eyes, and the warmth and pride in his face make my heart skip a beat. "Absolutely. Would it be easier if you went to Starbucks for some alone time?"

  "Probably," I say, then realize what he's saying. "Wait, you'd stay with her by yourself? You've never done that before."

  "If you think I can handle it."

  "Of course I do. But are you sure you're okay with it?"

  He kisses my forehead. "Only if I can use your laptop and printer first."

  I nod, confused, and sit beside him wondering what he's printing and whether I'm doing the wrong thing until he finishes and holds out the pages to me.

  "What is it?"

  "My schedule until the audition in December. So you can see where I can help you. And of course if you go for it I'll be around to help you after December too."

  My throat tightens as tears burn behind my eyes, and I blink hard. "You don't have to—"

  Austin lays a gentle finger against my lips. "I do. Because I want to.
And I always do what I want."

  I can't hold back a giggle, and he grins then replaces his finger with his lips. After pulling back from our short but sweet kiss, he says, "Go figure out how it'll work. Jenna and I will stay here."

  "Are you sure?" I say. She's asleep, but still...

  "Are you?"

  I have no doubt he'll be fine, and I hope that's clear from how I say, "Definitely."

  "Then I'm sure too." He kisses me again. "Get lost already."

  "Fine," I say, pulling a new planning book from my stash under the TV. I haven't used one since planning for Jenna, and it feels strange to grab a blank one for thinking about anything but her. "I will."

  It takes me nearly ninety minutes because I also plan out what my life will be like if I get into the orchestra, but in the end I'm left staring at a schedule that clearly shows it's all doable. I'll need Austin's help, a lot, and I texted Mom to see if she could fill in once or twice during the next few weeks and she agreed at once, but between the three of us it will work out.

  So that's that, then. I can do it, so I will.

  I go home, reviewing the plan in my mind and trying to feel excited about it, and as I approach the apartment door I hear Jenna crying in her low-pitched 'I'm starving' way. I rush in to find Austin holding her purple-clad body against his chest, looking desperate.

  "I changed her and walked around with her and even sang to her, the poor kid, but nothing."

  "She's hungry," I say, shucking off my coat and boots.

  "The one thing I can't fix for her," Austin says, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I really wanted you to come back to a happy baby."

  In seconds I've got Jenna latched on and she's nursing away, and I say, "She is happy. Now." I look down at her and realize something. "Wasn't she in a red onesie before?"

  "Diaper blowout. Right up her back and down her legs."

  I stare at him. "And you dealt with it?" The volume Jenna manages to produce amazes me at times, as does how far it can spread, but Austin hasn't been around for a real blowout before and this one sounds like it was spectacular.

  He shrugs. "We might both have been crying for a few minutes, but yeah, we got through it."