Giselle wasn’t sure she’d heard Tierney right. Had she really said “you”? Trying to collect her whirling thoughts, she asked, “About me? Guess it is a recent piece then?” Cringing, Giselle dragged her fingers through her hair and dislodged her headband, causing it to land on the hardwood floor with a resounding clatter. Giselle did her best to control her breathing before it escalated until she couldn’t stave off a panic attack. Usually she scoffed at her former therapist’s use of mantras, but now she let the word andante resound in the back of her mind.
Tierney bent and picked up the headband, handing it back to Giselle. “Yes. Very recent. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so forward. I never meant for you to know about my writing or my singing.” She pushed her hands flat under her thighs again, something Giselle had noticed Tierney often did when she seemed awkward or nervous.
“If you think about it, I asked you to listen in and have an opinion.” Giselle smiled politely, her lips tense enough to make her feel they would crack. Andante, andante.
“Guess you got more than you asked for.” Tierney shifted on top of her hands. “Thanks for not assuming the worst though.”
“What ‘worst’ are we talking about here?” Her stomach ached as Giselle forced her breathing to remain even, calm. Her fingertips tingled, and she didn’t dare analyze Tierney’s lyrics. Blinking slowly, another method to calm her mind, she regarded Tierney closely.
“It wouldn’t be a far stretch to assume that I was trying to take advantage of the fact that you have connections in the music industry. All I can say is that it’s not the case.” Pulling her hands free, Tierney rubbed her palms on her jeans. “Not at all.”
“Can you try to sing the text to the melody again?” Giselle heard herself say. “If you want to? Calando.”
Tierney gaped. “For real?”
“Again. I asked, didn’t I?”
“Um. Yeah. You did.” Blinking fast a few times, Tierney squared her shoulders. “All right. From the top?”
Giselle nodded and played the rudimentary intro. It needed more work, but right now she was only interested in determining if Tierney’s lyrics really had anything to do with her. If they did, she wasn’t sure how she would deal with that situation. Explore what this young woman’s motives were? Why she would write something deeply personal about a woman she’d known for a few days? Returning to the part where she felt safe and in control, Giselle kept mentally murmuring andante over and over, while she let her fingers play along the keys, coaxing out the music, listening with both anticipation and dread—at least with more passion than she could ever remember feeling.
Tierney cleared her throat softly and sang the same lyrics as before. When Giselle moved on to the chorus, Tierney followed, stumbling on a few words when the syllables didn’t quite fit. This didn’t matter, as the song came alive right before Giselle. As they reached the crescendo, Tierney had closed her eyes and swayed to the dramatic melody.
Her dreams rarely come true
And still I try to give her everything
She carries that old stake in her heart
It tears me to shreds when she screams
When nightmares steal her soul
And she won’t let me in
All I can do is sit outside her door
And pray she’ll hear me sing
Slowly, Giselle pulled her hands from the keyboard, suddenly spent and completely exhausted. “And how can that be about me?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Tierney said, her hands back under her thighs. “Not literally, of course.”
“I daresay not.” Giselle stood so quickly, the piano stool crashed back against the wall behind her. “I’m…I’m going to work out. You can take the rest of the day off once you’re back from grocery shopping.”
“What?” Tierney looked alarmed as she stood also. “What about dinner?”
“I’m not entirely helpless in the kitchen. I’ll make myself something from the freezer. You have a decent selection to choose from at the guesthouse.” Feeling her heart pick up speed with each passing moment, Giselle knew she had to get into the room behind the garage and throw herself into a massive workout session. Sometimes that warded off a panic attack and kept her from having to take the medication she had if everything else failed. She realized today was a “just grab the damn pill” day.
“All right.” Tierney looked concerned as she took a hesitant step toward the door. “If you’re sure.”
“Of course, I’m sure.” Giselle spat the words and just wanted Tierney to get away from the door, so she could pass her at a safe distance. If someone touched her at this point, it would hurt physically. Wound up enough for her teeth to clatter, she clenched her jaws and darted past Tierney. She hurried toward the garage, where she had everything she needed, casting a quick glance behind her.
Tierney had followed her to the door leading into the gym and stood there with the softest expression in her eyes. Giselle saw no pity, or signs of anything but concern, which made her draw several deep breaths as she headed to the changing area of her gym. Tearing her clothes off and pulling on her gym outfit, Giselle stepped onto the treadmill and started at the highest setting she could safely maneuver. She ran as if the devil were coming up behind her, the lyrics Tierney had sung with that sultry, slightly husky voice marching through her mind. Especially the part that said, “She carries that old stake in her heart,/It tears me apart when she screams,/When nightmares steal her soul.”
The gym door opened, startling Giselle. Tierney came in and strode over to the cross-trainer. She mounted it, created new settings, and began her workout, not even glancing at Giselle. This woman was infuriating but somehow had to care, or she wouldn’t have given Giselle so much thought that she could write that song. Or disregard her orders to make sure she was all right. Tears rose in Giselle’s eyes, and she let go with one hand to wipe at her wet eyelashes. She had to get a grip on herself. If Tierney could get to her like this, in her home where her privacy was paramount, she could very likely fall apart at any given time.
Eventually, she’d run so far, she’d set a record on her treadmill. Stepping off, she grimaced at the pain and stiffness in her legs, remembering belatedly that she hadn’t warmed up. She hadn’t had time. Ignoring the agony building in her system, Giselle moved to the side of the gym that held her weights. She strapped some around her wrists and carried out the exercises a personal trainer had showed her, exercises meant to keep her from injuring her hands and arms. She depended on them for her career and livelihood, after all.
Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw Tierney leave the gym without a word, and twenty minutes later a familiar noise indicated that Tierney had taken the Jeep out of the garage. Soon the house would be empty, and Giselle could shower and then retire to her bedroom. There she would use her Roland electric piano and work on some of the other music she had written for Chicory Ariose. Just not that song. With sorrow flooding her chest, Giselle wondered if she would ever be able to play that song again—let alone hear Tierney’s haunting voice sing it—without ending up in the gym like now.
* * *
Tierney was relieved Giselle hadn’t chewed her out for not following orders. No way could she drive away to the damn grocery store unless she made sure Giselle was doing okay. Stopping to cuddle Charley and scratch Mister’s ears, she let her mind replay what had taken place in the music room. Yes, she hadn’t been smart when it came to her audacity to sing her original lyrics to one of Giselle’s compositions. When she thought about it, she realized that must have been downright insulting. Talk about stomping on an established artist’s work and with a deeply personal text about the composer herself. Groaning, she stood and grabbed the car keys and Giselle’s debit card, which she still couldn’t fathom Giselle letting her use. She’d probably set a limit on how much could be spent at a time. That would make sense.
As she drove down the gravel road and then turned out onto the main road leading to East Quay, her mind teemed with images of today and fear of what might happen tomorrow. Thinking about Vivian and Mike coming for dinner made her nervous. Tierney was a decent cook, but what if she made a mess of the meal? That would surely be the last straw that would lead to her being fired immediately. And she hardly dared picture what the guests would think of the stunt she’d pulled today, no matter that it hadn’t been a calculated move—not at all. No matter why Giselle had fled from the music room earlier, it hadn’t seemed to be because of Tierney’s text. At least not only because of that. Giselle had asked her to sing—and liked her voice.
Rubbing the back of her neck, she maneuvered the Jeep along the curvy road. Why had she sung such a personal lyric? A new one, with elements of Giselle in it! “Fuck.” Tierney sighed. “She probably thinks I have no sense of propriety. Just a lot of pretentiousness.” Mulling her dark thoughts over, Tierney was aware of how she skidded around the fear lurking in the depths of her mind. She truly didn’t want to leave Giselle and her work as her assistant and dog trainer. Tierney had such plans for turning Charley into the perfect dog for Giselle. She’d spent a very happy hour before she fell asleep last night, imagining how amazed and thrilled Giselle would become when she saw what Charley was capable of, so excited that Giselle would let her stay on. It was quite ironic. Here she’d plotted to find diverse ways to make herself indispensable and walked right into the trap of doing the exact opposite.
Gripping the wheel, Tierney pressed the accelerator harder and headed for the health-food supermarket in East Quay. She would simply do her shopping, put the groceries away when she got home, and then go to bed, no matter how early it was when she finished.
Only when she grabbed a shopping cart at the store did she realize she’d referred to Giselle’s house as “home.”