Greene turned to Joanna. She had never played in front of this group. A wedding was easy, but now they’d all be staring at her, and without the bright lights of the stage and the orchestra behind her. She wasn’t even sure she could do this with a normal song. And this wasn’t a normal song. This was a piece she’d written to describe her love for the woman who was currently staring back at her with equal love in her eyes, silently asking her to give this gift to their friends. She wanted them to see this part of Greene. And even though it scared Greene to do it, she couldn’t refuse the woman in front of her. Joanna hadn’t yet made up with her mother, who was still giving her the silent treatment and might always be giving her the silent treatment. Joanna had chosen Greene. She’d chosen their relationship. She’d chosen their love over everything else. Because of Joanna, she’d gone on a successful tour, begun teaching college students, really enjoyed it, and had begun composing. She was also about to play her most private composition to a group of people she knew she wanted the approval of. She put the violin to her shoulder, gave Joanna a reluctant nod, and turned to face the rest of the group.
Joanna moved to sit at the second picnic table, which was to the left of the first, while Hillary joined her. Keira and Emma moved to the first table and sat there while Kellan and Reese sat on the other side. Hailey and Charlie were standing off to the side, holding onto one another. As Greene turned to look at Joanna to play this song, Joanna took a quick photo and dropped the camera in her lap to focus her attention on Greene.
“What’s the song called?” Hillary asked.
“Something-something Requiem in A minor, right, Jo?” Greene smiled at her. Joanna laughed. Then, Greene knew the title. It came to her in an instant of pure clarity. “Macon’s Heart.” She lifted her bow, took in Joanna with that beautiful smile, and began to play the truest thing she’d ever played.
THIS ABOVE ALL
San Francisco Series Book #3
Hillary Robins had watched all of her friends couple off. Everyone in her group had their person now, while she’d turned into something like the eighth wheel. After Caroline had broken her heart, Hillary had always known that she’d be the last of her friends to find someone. Caroline had done a number on her. And, in many ways, she was still recovering.
Amara Simmons both loved and hated being a preacher’s daughter. She loved her father dearly. He was all she had left after her mother’s tragic death. But what her father and his protégé, Mark, taught in church was in direct opposition to what she felt about herself. She’d never had the courage to admit it out loud. She even dated Mark because it was what was right for her father and for their shared faith. Unfortunately for Amara, her secret – along with some family secrets – collide when she finally decides to come out of her shell.
Hillary had been staring at a beautiful, auburn-haired woman every week in her local café for over a year before circumstances finally give her the courage to take a chance and strike up a conversation. Amara had always thought Hillary was beautiful. She’d always wanted to talk to her, but she couldn’t. If she did, that would mean that thing she’d been hiding about herself might reveal itself. If it did, it would change everything.
To contact the author or for any additional information visit: https://nicolepyland.com
Copyright © 2019 Nicole Pyland
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1-949308-15-0
CHAPTER 1
“Don’t you always love the stale cookies and yesterday’s coffee?”
Hillary Robins stood in front of a long, cafeteria-style table, and stared down at a box of donuts. There was one donut left with jelly, and someone had cut a cream-filled one in two with a plastic knife. Hillary hadn’t touched donuts in months since she’d started getting in shape. Even when she had indulged in the past, she’d always hated cream-filled ones, and jelly ones weren’t much better. There was also a small plate of cookies someone had bought at the store and left the price tag on, and there was an industrial-sized coffee pot with the spout one could lower to fill their cup with bitter-tasting lukewarm liquid. Hillary had already chosen to leave that alone, as she normally did, and had gotten a bottle of water from the gym prior to leaving.
“It’s the only reason I come,” she joked and turned her head to see a man of about 6’2”, with sandy blonde hair and light freckles adorning his nose and cheeks, looking down at her.
“Me too,” he teased back with a slight smile.
She’d seen him here before, but she hadn’t spoken to him beyond what was shared with the group during the meetings these past few weeks. The meeting room itself was small and could only fit around twenty people. She’d only been coming to this one for about a month but had yet to see the meetings full. Typically, there were about five to ten people of varying ages filling the chairs that were lined up in two aisles and rows of three or four. The snack table was always at the back, and there was a podium up at the front that was rarely used. Outside of those items, the room was plain and located in the basement of a local municipal building. There were signs about union thirty-three, how to keep the electrical and gas lines around the houses safe, and a few lost pet flyers. The chairs were old and plastic.
Hillary looked back down to the cookies once more, gritted her teeth, and decided against taking a few with her to her seat. She looked back up at the man that was several inches taller than her 5’6”, slid her short black hair that had been growing out and was now near shoulder-length behind her ears, and gave him a smile in return before heading back to her seat.
“Thank you for coming, Hillary,” a kind woman of around fifty said as Hillary took her seat.
“Of course, Mary.” She sat in a chair one over from Mary, leaving a space between the two of them.
“Are you sharing tonight?” The man from the table sat on her left and failed to leave a space between them, which was strange given the room was half empty.
“No, I actually came for Mary. She’s sharing tonight and asked if I’d be here.” She turned to him and then back to Mary to offer a smile.
“After the meeting’s over, do you want to grab some coffee that’s not from a week ago?” he asked.
“I thought it was from yesterday.”
“They just layer it up each day,” he joked. “Whatever’s left gets added to the next pot, and I’m not sure they ever clean that thing.” He chuckled.
“Probably not,” she responded.
Hillary was not the type of woman that got hit on regularly. In fact, she could count the number of times she’d been asked out on a date on one hand up until recently. The change, she suspected, had to do with her recent weight loss and muscle toning she’d been working so hard on. She’d set a goal for herself to get healthy. She’d been eating right and going to the gym regularly. While she’d never been what someone would call fat, she had been chubby and had noticed that when she went out with her friends, who were at that time all single, none of the attention ever went her way.
She’d been at those tables and bars with gorgeous women like Keira Worthy, Kellan Cobb, and Macon Greene. Now, she was the only one left without a significant other. While her three best friends were all gay and had found their loves, she was the lone bisexual of their friend group. Keira had just married Emma. Kellan had found Reese in Lake Tahoe, shortly after Keira and Emma had met, and had moved there to be with her. Macon Greene, whom they called Greene, had befriended her girlfriend first. The, at the time, straight Joanna had first become a friend in their ever-growing group before she and Macon had discovered their feelings for one another.
Hillary was so happy for all of her friends, but everyone was moving on with their lives. Keira and Emma were married and might be buying a house in the suburbs if they could get their financing in order. Greene and Joanna were already living together. Hillary had seen that look in Macon’s eye when they’d passed by a jewelry store one day after getting lunch: she’d paused in the window, glanced at rows and rows of beautifu
l rings, and then pretended she needed to check a message on her phone. Kellan had moved. They’d only seen her over one weekend when they’d all gone to Tahoe for Emma and Keira’s surprise engagement and nuptials, but she and Reese were already living together and talking about all those next steps couples take. Hillary wanted her own man or woman to share those steps with. She thought she had that person years ago, but she’d been wrong.
“Are we ready?” Mark, the leader of this meeting, moved to one of the chairs, turned it around, and sat facing them all. “Who would like to share tonight?” he asked.
The conversation of the potential coffee after this meeting was dropped as the Al-Anon meeting began.
Hillary hadn’t always gone to meetings. She’d gone on and off for the past few years, though, after her longest relationship with the person she thought she’d spend her life with ended. She’d felt cursed back then, because she’d originally begun attending support groups like this when she was a freshman in college and had finally gotten out of her parents’ house. She’d had the freedom to get the support she’d needed. By the time she was a senior, she’d stopped going and felt like she no longer needed the meetings. Unfortunately, despite what she’d told her friends about her breakup being all about a job offer and a different vision of a future with her ex-girlfriend, she’d returned to the meetings because her ex had a problem with alcohol, and it had interfered with their relationship severely at the end of it.
An hour later, Hillary stood and gave Mary a hug. Mary’s son was an alcoholic, who had been arrested and convicted of a hit and run when he’d been drunk. His conviction had come only a week prior. Mary had asked Hillary to come to this meeting to support her as she shared with the group, because this group of people understood what it was like to love an alcoholic. Sometimes, that was exactly what it took to make things a little better.
“So, how about that coffee? It’s early,” the man, she knew as Nathaniel now from his introduction earlier, asked.
“Oh, I have a bit of a drive home,” she lied. “And I have an early day tomorrow,” she lied again.
“Sure. Of course.” He ran his hand over the back of his neck up and down, likely in embarrassment. “I guess I’ll see you next week if you’re here.”
Hillary nodded with a smile because she didn’t know how to reply. She’d been going to meetings less and less these days, and she had only changed the location of her previous meeting because they’d stopped their evening sessions due to lack of interest or participation. She’d found this one was only a few blocks farther away from her apartment.
It had been five years since she’d ended things with Caroline. That was longer than they were together, but the words they’d shared in anger near the end still stung. While she heard them repeated in her mind less and less these days, she’d still sought this new meeting just in case she needed it. She’d gone, though, met Mary, and Mary had asked her if she’d be back the following week. She’d gone again last week because Mary had asked her. This week was more of the same. Mary would be going out of town for the next two weeks, though, and Hillary had decided that unless she really needed it, she wouldn’t go to the next meeting.
As she moved to head toward the door of the meeting room, she spotted someone familiar that hadn’t been present for the meeting. The woman moved to the table and closed up the donut box before tossing it into the trash can. Hillary gulped; she was so beautiful. Hillary had no idea what the woman was doing there or how they seemed to be at the same places sometimes, but her heart always raced whenever she saw the woman she’d never even spoken to. The woman walked over to Mark and gave him a hug. Hillary watched her turn toward one of the other meeting participants and shake the woman’s hand, as if they were being introduced.
“Amara,” she whispered.
“Sorry?” Nathaniel, apparently, was still standing next to her.
Amara was around 5’7” or 5’8”, if Hillary had a guess. She had long auburn hair that was always done up intricately in some kind of a bun or braid. Tonight was no exception. She had it in a French braid that was a little less than halfway down her back. She had beautiful eyes that were dark green, and her skin was slightly paler than most. Hillary had been silently wondering for a while now if she was of Irish descent.
“Nothing. I have to go.” Hillary moved around him toward the door, swung it open, and listened as it clanged behind her.
She walked swiftly around the corner before she called for an Uber, waited nervously for five minutes until it arrived, climbed in, and took the fifteen-minute trip home to her apartment. She unlocked it, tossed her bag and keys aside, and flopped unceremoniously onto the fluffy sofa she’d spent too much money on but loved. She thought about how good Amara looked, and wondered about why the woman was there. Then, she thought about how she only knew Amara’s name because her friend had been nosy enough to get it for her one day; Hillary had always been too afraid to talk to her.
CHAPTER 2
Amara Simmons dumped out the pot of coffee. She was certain it had been sitting there all day and hadn’t been cleaned since she’d cleaned it the previous week. She resisted swearing under her breath as she scrubbed, rinsed, and then placed the pot on a towel to dry on a small counter next to the sink in the tiny kitchen. She’d leave it there to dry overnight and see new coffee made the next morning. It had been a long day, and she was more than ready to head home and get some sleep.
“Thank you for helping out,” Mark said when he made his way up behind her and placed his hands on her hips.
“Of course,” she replied and moved out of his light grasp to pick up her bag. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve stacked up the chairs and turned off the lights.” He nodded. “Do you want to grab a late dinner before I take you home?”
“No, I’m not hungry,” she declined.
“Okay. Let me just get my things, and I’ll meet you outside.” He leaned in and pecked her cheek.
The five o’clock shadow lightly chafed her skin as he pulled back. She’d been asking him to shave each morning, when in the past, he’d been fine going every few days without, preferring that look to the smooth skin she much preferred. Eventually, she’d won when she’d refused to kiss him until he shaved. He’d since made sure to keep his skin free of facial hair, but with long days like this, where he oversaw the Al-Anon meetings, he was scruffy by the end. She shook her head as he laughed and turned to go grab his things.
Mark was a good match for her. He was twenty-nine, volunteered at the church, and helped coordinate the Al-Anon meetings since he’d joined several years ago. He’d lost his mother to liver disease due to her battle with alcohol and drugs. Mark hadn’t ever touched drugs and had also chosen to abstain completely from alcohol. His father owned a Christian bookstore. Mark ran the day to day operations of it for him. They’d been dating for two months now. It was the longest relationship Amara had ever had, which she thought wasn’t good for a woman of twenty-six.
Her father was the reverend at the church next to the building where the Al-Anon meetings were held. Initially, he wasn’t a fan of her dating Mark because of his family history. But once he found out that Mark was a devout Christian who also believed in no sex before marriage, suddenly he thought Mark was the best man in the world for her. It had only been two months. Yet, her father was already asking her about wedding plans. Her mother had died when she was young, and Amara had no siblings. It had always been the two of them against the world. She loved her father and the fact that he only wanted her to be happy, but she also wished he’d give her a little space from time to time.
“Should I pick you up tomorrow morning?” Mark asked after opening the car door for her and ushering her out of the car toward the house she shared with her father.
“No, my car is out of the shop. Dad picked it up tonight,” she answered just as he intertwined their fingers and she felt the roughness of his skin against her own.
“Okay.”
“Thank
you for being my chauffeur these past couple days.” She smiled at him and dropped his hand when they arrived at the door.
“Of course. I’m thinking of maybe going to the Giants’ game on Saturday. Mike has two tickets and can’t use them. I thought we could go together.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Can I let you know in a couple of days?”
“Sure.” Mark leaned in and pecked her lips. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She gave him what she hoped he couldn’t tell was a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
Her father’s house was a three-bedroom home. Her old childhood bedroom was still as she left it, but she technically resided in the pool house. It could be entered from the outside, around the back of the house, or through the front door by walking straight through the hallway that bisected the structure. She knew she was too old to be living at home, but she didn’t make much money working in the administrative offices of her father’s church. Apartments in or outside the city were too much for her salary.
Her father was either already asleep or in his study and not to be disturbed, so she headed straight back through the house, walked past the small, kidney-shaped pool and into the pool house that he’d remodeled for her a few years ago to act as its own apartment. She had a small kitchen with standard appliances, a bathroom, and a living room that overlooked the pool. Her bedroom was facing the back fence and was large enough for a full bed, a dresser, one bedside table, and not much else. But it was home, and it was enough for Amara.
She moved to the kitchen, found a plate of leftovers from the dinner she’d had with her father the night before, and moved the plate to the microwave, setting it to warm up the roast and carrots. While it heated, she grabbed the bag she’d placed by the door and moved into her bedroom, where she opened it, pulled out her laptop, lifted the lid, and let it boot up while she went to grab her food. Returning, she hopped online and used incognito mode in her browser to go to a favored web page and resume watching a movie she’d started the previous night but had been unable to finish.
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