by Jen Gilroy
“He didn’t know what he’d miss.” There was a bitter taste in Seth’s mouth. Despite everything, and even though he’d been a kid himself when Dylan was born, his son was the best thing to ever happen to him.
“Yeah, right.” Hannah’s eyes glinted too bright.
“I mean it. A child not only makes your life worthwhile, but they teach you what really matters.” Which was why he’d never understand why Jake had abandoned him, or why Amanda didn’t want to be a bigger part of Dylan’s life.
“Whatever.” Hannah stuck her hands in the front pockets of her jeans. “If you want to talk to Mom, you better get going. It’s already mid-afternoon. In an hour or so, the black flies will eat you alive. The closer it gets to sunset, the more those things come out.”
Seth glanced at the sky where the sun already tilted toward the west. “Thanks.”
“No worries, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. You might want to lead with the chocolate.” She gave him a little wave before setting off at a jog toward the house.
Seth walked to the end of the street then followed a steep, dirt path uphill through the trees where tree roots stuck up through the soil. Five minutes in, he took off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. When the hill finally plateaued out, he stopped. To his left, a creek bubbled out of a stand of trees, and Annie sat on a stump with her back to him. Her floral top made a splash of color against the early spring landscape, and her bright hair gleamed like copper in the sun.
Seth picked his way around a rocky outcrop and pile of brush then pulled out the chocolate bar. A branch snapped beneath his feet, and above his head a bird let out a raucous cry.
Annie swung around and her gaze locked with his. He’d told himself he wasn’t at the right time and place in his life to get involved with her or any other woman, but maybe he’d been wrong. And maybe what was in his heart was more important than what was in his head.
~ ~ ~
Annie lurched to her feet and brushed twigs and soil from her jeans. How had Seth found her here? And, more to the point, why had he come looking for her?
“Hi.” In jeans and a blue shirt, with a jacket looped around his waist, he walked across the log bridge that spanned the narrow creek and met her where one side of the hill dropped off into the valley below.
“Hi, yourself.” Her hiking boots squelched on the muddy ground.
“I brought chocolate.” He held out a bar, like some kind of peace offering.
“Did Hannah tell you where I was?” She hesitated, then took the chocolate from his outstretched hand and gave him a small smile.
“I dropped by your place and met her out front.” The corners of his mouth crooked upward in that heart-melting smile. “I hope I’m not barging in.”
“You know you are.” Annie tried to keep her expression aloof, stern even, but it was no use. The combination of that smile and mellow drawl got her every time. Plus, he had chocolate. She unwrapped the paper and foil and broke off several squares then handed it to him to share. “I come here when I want to be alone.” She gave him a pointed look. Maybe he didn’t know how sexy his smile was. Or maybe he did and used it to get to her and any other woman who crossed his path.
“I’m sorry.” Except, he didn’t sound sorry. “You’re a hard woman to pin down.”
“I’ve been busy.” Since the radio station was upstairs from the bakery, avoiding Seth took some doing, as did trying to make herself forget that fleeting kiss. But she’d also been busy worrying about her mom and Duncan. Why had her mom asked Annie to drive her to the doctor’s office on Monday afternoon, but wouldn’t tell her why? And why was the car her mom and Duncan drove already parked in the lot?
“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable when I said good night last Saturday.” He looked at his mud-blackened sneakers.
“No, it wasn’t even a real kiss.” Annie made herself laugh, the sound false, even to her ears. “Forget it.”
“It might not have started out that way, but if my son hadn’t called, it sure might have become a real kiss.” Seth’s voice had a sensual timbre, and Annie’s stomach fluttered.
“We don’t know that.” Her skin prickled.
“I do.” He stared into the hazy blue distance instead of at her. Below them, the Black Duck River meandered across the valley floor, and the town of Irish Falls clustered at its heart, like a toy town from this height. “Maybe I can forget the kiss, but what I can’t forget is that voice of yours.”
Annie’s face went hot. Why hadn’t she shut the kitchen window? And knowing Seth was upstairs, why had she sung in the first place? Rhetorical question. She sang all the time, not only when she was happy, but also when she was upset. If he’d turned up a few minutes earlier, he’d even have caught her singing here.
“I already told you, I don’t sing for anyone these days except for the kids at school and in the choir.”
“You didn’t sing in the choir this morning.” He gave her a lopsided smile.
“You went to my church?” She sucked in a quick breath.
“Yep.” His eyes twinkled. “A lot of my listeners go to St. Patrick’s. It’s important for me to be visible in the community.”
“You . . . you . . .” Her jaw got tight. Not only was Seth persistent but, as Nana Gerry would have said, he had more nerve than a canal horse.
“There’s nothing wrong with a man going to church on Sunday morning.” His tone teased her. “A couple of sweet old ladies invited me to sing in your choir. They said I had a beautiful tenor.”
“Don’t be fooled by appearances. Those ‘sweet old ladies’ are as smart and wily as they come.” She briefly clenched her hands. “They think if they get to you first, you won’t darken the door of another church in this town again. Lots of Baptists and Episcopalians and members of other faiths listen to your station, too. A bunch of non-believers as well.”
“See, that’s why I need you as a friend.” He gave her a wide-eyed, much-too-innocent look. “I don’t know anything about small towns, but you do. I guess I can’t be seen to take sides, even when it comes to church going. In this morning’s announcements, though, your priest mentioned a fundraiser night at the Black Duck on Memorial Day weekend. It’s to help folks who got flooded out. A couple of local singers are doing sets. You should sign up.”
“No.” Annie tensed.
“But it’s for such a good cause.” He paused. “I thought you were more civic minded.”
Seth was smooth, she’d grant him that, and he knew how to get to her.
“I’ll write a check.” She set off across the log bridge and back to the trail. “Quinn’s is donating three cakes for the raffle. One is a wedding cake and those are expensive.”
“I thought you’d want do to something more personal. If you lived a few blocks closer to the river, you might have lost everything, too.” Seth’s expression was sad. “If it’s singing alone that’s the problem, I’d be happy to sing with you. Or I could accompany you. Whatever you want. When I spoke to Father Michael earlier, I promised the station’s full support. All the churches and service clubs in town are working together to organize the event, but they need help with advertising and promotion. That’s where I can step in.”
“You never give up, do you?” Annie stumbled over a tree root, and Seth grabbed her arm to steady her.
His laugh was a soft rumble at her side. “When I want something as much as I want to hear you sing again, I don’t.”
Annie stopped and turned to face him on the narrow trail. “Okay. I’ll sing one song for you.” Even as the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them, but there was something about Seth that wore her down. “I’ll come up to the studio before work tomorrow morning.” She jerked her arm away from his hand.
“Great, that’s—”
“You’ll make s
ure my brother isn’t around to listen.” She picked up the pace, and her boots sprayed dirt and gravel across the path. “Since you started doing the morning show, Brendan pops up to the station all the time. I don’t care what you tell him, but you can’t tell him I’m singing for you.”
“Done.”
“I’ll see you at five fifteen tomorrow morning.” She coiled her toes inside her boots. She couldn’t let Seth guess how much he rattled her.
“That’s only fifteen minutes before you start work.” His eyes narrowed.
“Fifteen minutes is all I can give you.” She strode down the hill, away from him as fast as the almost vertical incline allowed.
“If I only have fifteen minutes, I want you to sing one of your songs.” His voice reached her from the other side of a large sugar maple tree.
“Fine.” She flung the word over her shoulder.
“Terrific.” His tone was smug.
When the path levelled out, she broke into a jog to put more distance between them and sprinted through the last clump of trees to come out at the end of her street. When she stopped by Seth’s truck, she had a stitch in her side and a sore spot where one of her boots had rubbed against a heel. She walked across the lawn to her front porch, all the while conscious of his gaze boring into her from the bottom of the mountain.
She took several deep breaths. She didn’t have any reason to panic. It was only one song and fifteen minutes. She’d promised herself she’d try to do something with her music and maybe singing for Seth would be the first step on that path. And once she’d sung for him, her life would still be as comforting, familiar, and safe as it had been before. Nothing could happen to change it in only fifteen minutes.
She opened her front door and went into the hall. Hazel the cat and little Olivia the kitten were curled up together in Nana Gerry’s favorite armchair. In the kitchen, the chicken and vegetable pie she’d made earlier was tucked in the fridge and ready to put in the oven. And when Hannah came back from that birthday party, they’d pick a movie to watch together like they did every Sunday night.
Hannah. She flinched and hugged herself. It had taken a lot less than fifteen minutes for her to get pregnant with her daughter and then to tell Todd he was going to be a father. Her fingers instinctively sought the places on her forearms where the purplish-red bruises had been. Although the marks had faded in a few weeks, the memories they’d left behind were still fresh. And that had all started with one of her songs, too.
Chapter 10
Would Annie turn up? Or would she bail on him? Seth dragged one of the dinette chairs into the studio and set a glass of water on the desk.
His phone display said five fourteen a.m. Nobody had ever sung for him so early in the morning, but nobody with a voice or a song like Annie’s had ever sung for him before, either.
Dolly thumped her tail and cocked her ears toward the outside door.
Footsteps thudded on the stairs, and then Annie came through the door and into the studio with a guitar case. “I have to be quick. Brendan might have seen me come up.” She glanced behind her, as if her brother might already be in pursuit.
“He won’t have, not unless he can see through a floor and a flight of stairs.” Seth smiled to try to put her at ease. He shouldn’t have doubted her. Annie stuck to her commitments. “I messaged him to ask if he had any of that coffee cake you keep in one of the basement freezers. He said he’d go down and check. He also said he has a batch of bread in the oven so, between both of those things, he won’t be coming up here anytime soon.”
“Thanks.” Her voice trembled.
“I brought Jake’s guitar if you want to—”
“No need.” Her face was as white as the sweater she wore above a pair of worn jeans that molded to her curvy hips. “I can accompany myself.” She heaved the guitar case onto the desk and opened it.
“I got you a chair and water.” For a second, he felt bad about pushing, but if he could help her make something of her music, it would be good for her.
She sat and clutched the guitar like a life raft.
“I’ll take Dolly back to the apartment and—”
“I want Dolly to stay.” She pursed her lips and eyed him up and down. Evidently, she preferred the dog’s company to his right now.
“Okay, whenever you’re ready.” He moved behind the broadcast desk and sat in the announcer’s chair. He had to take it slow. Otherwise, she’d be back down those stairs to the bakery faster than Dolly when she spotted a squirrel.
Annie strummed a few chords and shifted on the chair. Then she stood and tapped one sneaker-clad foot against the carpet. The seconds ticked away, and he held his breath. Finally, she fixed her gaze on a point above his head and started to sing.
Quiet at first, her voice then rose in tandem with the music she coaxed out of that old guitar. Even without the words, the simple tune reached straight into his chest and wrapped itself around his heart, but the words made it something more than he’d ever thought possible. Seth leaned forward and the hairs on the back of his neck lifted.
A lot of country songs were about love and loss. Except, Annie had taken that theme and made it her own. She drew him in because, although her song was about heartbreak, it held hope too, together with a raw honesty that stirred hidden parts of his soul.
As the last chord died away, Dolly, who’d stayed silent, barked and nosed Annie’s knee.
“That was . . .” Seth stood and cleared his throat. “Great.” Such an ineffectual word for what he’d heard, but he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to shape any others.
“Thank you.” Annie’s voice was soft and, as she bent to pat Dolly, a curtain of hair half covered her face.
Adrenaline rushed through Seth and, for an instant, the studio spun. Not only did she have the voice of an angel, she looked like one, too. But this was about so much more than her voice or her looks. “Have you written any other songs?”
“Sure. I’ve fooled around with songwriting since I was younger than Hannah.” Her tone was hesitant, maybe even fearful.
“Have you kept them?” He held his breath, almost giddy. If any of her other songs were even half as good as the one he’d just heard, she had the whole package. There were a lot of good singers out there, but ones who could write music and lyrics like hers were rare.
“Except for the songs I’m still working on, the others are in boxes in my attic.” She straightened and put the guitar back in its case.
Seth made his tone casual to keep his excitement in check. “With the right packaging and promotion, that song could be a big hit.”
Her gaze drifted to her small, understated watch. “This is Irish Falls, not Nashville. How could my little song ever be a hit?”
“It could be Nashville.” His heart pounded. “A few parts of the melody are still a little rough, but I can help you with that. I also know where we can access recording space and backing musicians. Trust me, if you make a demo, once word gets out, you’ll have people lining up to produce that piece for you.”
“No.” Her face got a grayish tinge and she backed toward the studio door. “I said I’d sing one song for you. That’s it. I’m not ready for anything else. I have to get to work and—”
“Wait. Maybe you don’t understand. This could be huge for you.” He came around the desk to her side. “I want to help you. You’re talented. Why are you hiding that talent? You need to share your songs, as well as your voice. Why not start by singing at the fundraiser?”
“It’s . . . I can’t.” She bumped into the door, and tears glistened in the depths of her amazing eyes. “Except for my family, choir, and the kids at school, Jake was the only other person I sang alone for. At least since . . .” She hugged herself. “He got me singing again after . . . well, before I sung for you, I didn’t realize I missed it so much.
When you got caught up in my music, it did something to me.”
It had done something to Seth too, although, right now, he couldn’t analyze what. “Something bad?” He stepped around Dolly and looped a careful arm around Annie’s tight shoulders.
“No, it’s something I needed to face, but . . .” She gulped and covered her mouth with one hand.
“Music can heal. Jake said that to me when I was a kid.” Seth squeezed her arm, and she flinched—imperceptible, but an unmistakable little quiver through her thin sweater. He took his hand away, and her body relaxed.
“He said that to me all the time, too.” She gave him the ghost of a smile. “He was full of sayings, but he never gave me advice, even when I asked. He said I had to figure life out for myself.”
Seth’s heart constricted with a mixture of bitterness and regret. Even though he’d told himself it didn’t matter, he’d missed having a dad who, even if he hadn’t given advice, would have been part of his life.
“I have to go. I’ll be late for work.” Annie reached past him to grab the guitar case, and her light breath fanned the hair at the nape of his neck.
Seth stood rigid. If he let himself touch her, he’d be pulled into her warmth and softness like quicksand. Yet, his hand curved around her waist. Her sweater was smooth beneath his fingers, and she was so close he could—
“Annie?”
Seth jerked his hand away, and Dolly yelped.
Tara stood in the half-open studio door. “It’s Duncan.” Her mouth worked. “He’s having chest pains. Mom called an ambulance, and he’s at the hospital.” She flicked a glance at Seth, her expression strained. “Brendan and Holly have to take care of the bakery, and Rowan can’t leave her kids this early, but Mom needs us.”
“Of course.” Annie’s voice shook.
Seth spoke past the tightness in his throat. “Do you want me to call anyone? Father Michael maybe?” The Quinns seemed like a family who’d appreciate the support of a man of the cloth.