The dark shape of the bass filled the back half of the spare bedroom closet. Adeline slid away boxes of Christmas decorations and leftovers from discarded hobbies. Pressing winter coats and floor-length dresses back, she gripped the case and lugged the bass out.
In high school, when she’d flexed, the guys had laughed and made squeaky-toy noises before showing off their own biceps. However unimpressive her muscles had been then, they must be worse now. She couldn’t imagine carrying this around everywhere the way she once had.
But after today, she’d no longer have to handle this weight.
Grief lapped at her toes.
You used to love playing.
Oh, how right Gannon was.
Between the band and orchestra class, she’d once spent most of her free time on music. Though she no longer played, her ear picked out the bass line in every song she heard.
She could play one last time. What better way to get closure before selling? To say goodbye to an old friend?
As she felt along the seam for the zipper pull, thudding sounded downstairs. A few moments later, Bruce panted into the room and immediately sprawled onto the carpet.
“Taking it in today?” Tegan dropped into the chair at the desk. Her forehead shone with a layer of perspiration. She and Bruce must’ve been running.
Adeline retracted her fingers from the zipper. Why did she feel guilty, as if she’d been caught kissing Gannon? Instead of confessing she’d meant to play first, she nodded.
“You know, you and Gannon …”
Her stomach pulled into a tight knot. Tegan was thinking about them too? She fastened her focus on the bass and waited, hoping against hope for relief.
“Maybe if he’s sorry for firing Fitz, he ought to pay for your home repairs. I mean, the money would be nothing to him. It’s the least he could do.”
As disappointment washed over her, she realized she’d hoped Tegan would say something different. But, given the way Adeline had represented him to her friends, of course Tegan would never say something positive.
The blame she’d cast, on top of everything else, smoldered to be confessed. “I’m not asking him for money.”
She’d accept help from the church long before that.
“I figured you’d say that. But you aren’t interested in the campus job either, are you?” Tegan had printed off the job description and left it on the table.
Adeline had read the information and left the pages where she’d found them. She already had work.
“Doesn’t the idea of helping college grads find their way sound rewarding? The posting has been up for a while now. Maybe God’s holding the job for you.”
Adeline shook her head. Why was everyone on this kick of telling her that her life didn’t measure up?
“I’m not trying to be difficult. I just … are you sure you want to sell this?”
She was certain she didn’t want to. She also didn’t want to keep walls up between her and Gannon. But being an adult and taking responsibility meant enduring loss. Tegan would never understand the stakes, the motivations behind her actions, until Adeline explained. The time had come to tell the truth.
The whole truth.
Even if she lost Tegan’s good opinion of her.
She leaned the bass against the wall and sat on the bed. “He came to see me Monday at church.”
“What? Gannon? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I don’t like to relive my history with him. He’s hard to talk about.”
“But when something this big happens, you have to find a way. I mean, you knew him in high school and if your experience as a teen was anything like mine, every little thing was intense. The feelings were all so … big. Seeing those classmates again is a time warp. It’s like they have a special hold on me. If that’s what Gannon showing up here is like for you, how can you process it if you don’t talk?”
Adeline picked at her nails, the familiar pain in her throat. “He’s always had a kind of special hold on me. Even shortly after we met, our friendship felt easy and comfortable.”
Tegan chuckled. “Good for you. I never felt comfortable around attractive guys in high school.”
The playful humor helped just enough that Adeline could continue. “Maybe I was okay because I didn’t consider anything happening between us a possibility. Lots of girls liked him, he didn’t show interest in me beyond friendship, and I was dating Fitz. Fitz was talented, a thoughtful boyfriend, and the whole reason I met Gannon and John to begin with. We didn’t really have problems between us, so I wasn’t going to break up with him over a friendship with someone else.” She lifted her feet and dug her heels into the ridge of the bed frame. “Gannon says Fitz was depressed all along.”
“Is that true?”
“He wouldn’t have lied about the examples he gave.” Even if she still couldn’t fathom how she’d missed it. However, both of his suicide attempts had been in California, when all Adeline had to go on were phone calls spaced further and further apart.
And before that? What had she missed?
“He didn’t do well in school, so when a test or semester grades came out, he would get down. I’d help him study for next time, but our work didn’t improve his grades or his self-esteem. I guess I always felt like he needed me, and I felt like I owed him loyalty or something. And like I said, Gannon and I were strictly friends. But I’d be lying if I said I never had moments when I …”
Tegan waited a few beats. “Wished for something more with Gannon.”
She pressed a hand to her forehead. Either she was burning up, or her fingers had turned to ice. “Gannon never did much about the girls who hung around, and even when the two of us got together to work on music, I never felt like he was flirting with me. We’d start with lyrics and melodies and end up in long conversations. In retrospect, we shouldn’t have met so often while I had a boyfriend, but Gannon … He gave good advice, seemed to have genuine faith, and when he talked about his problems, he didn’t fall in a black hole of discouragement the way Fitz did.”
“You liked him.”
She’d been in denial about her feelings back then, but thoughts of those lingering afternoons pulled her into a current of longing now that made disputing the statement impossible.
She’d liked Gannon then, and she liked him now, but those old days were over. They’d ended badly. Very badly. “When Fitz was doing well, he was fun to be around. He got me goofy anniversary gifts and …” She shrugged again. How could she have cheated on him? It’d been the last thing he’d deserved. “Right before California, he had so much hope for Awestruck. He was the happiest I’d ever seen him. So, when he proposed, I said yes.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen.”
“That’s really young.” Tegan spoke gently, as if Adeline’s age excused what came next.
“After he’d been gone six months and things weren’t going well for Awestruck, he got down again. We were growing apart. I was a college student living with my parents, and he was a starving artist, waiting for the big break with less and less hope.”
“That’s a heavy load for an eighteen-year-old to deal with. That would be heavy for me at twenty-five.”
“Yeah, but I made terrible mistakes.”
“You’re not a psychologist. There’s only so much you could’ve done for him.”
“I could’ve been faithful.”
Tegan drew her mouth into a line, but she didn’t look as disapproving as Adeline had expected. “What happened?”
“After they’d been gone a year and a half, Gannon came home for Christmas. He wrapped me in this gigantic hug. It was like all the time we’d spent together, all the conversations we’d racked up, the ways he’d matured, the fact he was there, flesh and blood and present and interested in my life …”
“And at that point,” Tegan said, “you hadn’t seen Fitz in over a year.”
“That doesn’t make what I did okay.”
Tegan shifted in her seat, settling in, ready to wait her out.
Adeline pushed herself ahead. “I went to a classmate’s party, knowing Gannon would be there. I hitched a ride home with him. Kissed him in the car.”
When he’d responded in turn, she’d realized her crush wasn’t as one-sided as she’d assumed. Neither of them had wanted to stop, so they hadn’t. But they should’ve. The kiss never should’ve happened, let alone everything after. She deserved now for everyone to know she was that kind of person. The kind who’d done that. But her throat closed against the truth.
“I’m not saying it’s okay,” Tegan said. “I’m saying it’s understandable.”
“I betrayed Fitz. And God. When I told you and Drew the story the other day, I made Gannon sound like he was the one to blame, but I’m just as guilty.”
“What Drew said is still true. You’ve carried this too long.”
She didn’t argue, but she couldn’t bring herself to signal agreement. If God had forgiven her like Gannon promised, why did she still feel so ashamed? Why was her life so difficult that she had to sell the bass to fix her house?
That wasn’t the picture of God’s forgiveness. He didn’t want her prayers, and He didn’t want her music.
She stood and clutched the handles on the instrument case.
“Let me help.” Tegan rose, steadied the top, and navigated with her down the stairs. They loaded the instrument into the back of Tegan’s SUV. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“I’ve got it from here.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” But as she got behind the wheel, her heart pounded and her breath went shallow. With shaking hands, she shifted into reverse and took the trip to the music store one block at a time.
Once she’d parked and wrestled the bass inside, business mode took over. She went through the motions, told the man behind the counter why she’d come.
He laid his glasses on the paperwork he’d been reviewing. “I remember you having the bass serviced here. Getting something new?”
“I haven’t been playing, and unfortunately, I’m a little short on cash.”
“Ah. Well.” He scratched his chin and came out from behind the counter. “I wish you’d called first. We don’t go through many basses here. Most students rent one of the school district’s instruments.”
“Oh.” She looked over the case, remembering each curve of the bass underneath. “It’s in excellent shape. Maybe a school would buy it.”
He wobbled his head with doubt. “I could make some calls, but if we bought it to resell, we could only give about a thousand for it.”
“It’s worth twice that. At least.” Would one thousand dollars even cover the cost of the painter?
“But who knows how long it’d sit in our inventory, and we have to have a margin on it. You might do better taking it to a larger city. I can give you the name of a shop in Green Bay.”
Since selling the bass for so little was out of the question, she numbly accepted the slip of paper he offered her.
“Call before you make the drive. Mention me and that your service has been done by the same luthier they use. Hopefully they can make a better offer.” He seemed to assess her and then the bass. “Can I carry it back out for you?”
She shook her head and lifted the weight.
The neighborhood association had given her ninety days, and a couple of weeks had passed since she’d received the letter. As drained as she felt by this trip, once she slumped back in the driver’s seat, she forced herself to call the other shop.
The salesperson took a message and promised someone would be in touch on Monday, but the girl’s tone hit the point home: her most valuable possession wasn’t the commodity she’d hoped.
At the sound of giggling, Gannon rose from the couch and went to the foyer. Matt had caught an evening flight and then driven up from Green Bay. Gannon and John had expected him hours ago. As the night progressed, their theories about the condition he’d arrive in had grown grim.
The laughter bubbled from two blond women. Or girls. They wore enough makeup that they might be seventeen-year-olds hoping to look older. Their clothes were as skimpy as the women wore in the clubs Matt frequented in LA, but they weren’t the same designer quality. He’d found these two somewhere else.
“You waited up for me?” Matt laid his hand over his chest as if flattered. Alcohol wafted off his breath. He had no luggage, but one of the girls lowered a leather duffle bag to the stone floor. Had he let her carry his bag for him?
“We’re not here to entertain guests, Matt.”
“I wasn’t planning to share anyway.” He drew the women closer, eliciting more giggles. Matt’s clothes hung off him. With his sallow complexion and the circles under his eyes, he couldn’t have picked up women this attractive without the help of his role in Awestruck, which meant the women knew who Matt and Gannon were. As if the staring and the coy smiles hadn’t already confirmed that.
“They need to leave. Send them back with the car.”
“I got a rental. It doesn’t drive itself.”
Gannon brushed past them and opened the door. A bright red supercar glittered under the lights of the carport, though a car service had been scheduled to pick Matt up from the airport. “You’re lucky you didn’t wrap that around a tree.”
One of the women whispered something in Matt’s ear.
He chuckled. “She wants to know if you’re always this uptight.”
Gannon focused on the blondes. “Where are you from?”
The one with longer hair twirled a lock around a finger. “Milwaukee.”
“Originally,” the other girl said. “We go to Lakeshore College.”
Local girls? Matt must’ve stopped at a bar once he’d arrived in town. At least they’d be easy to send home and, if they were college students, they probably weren’t minors.
Keys jangling, Tim approached, his hair sticking up as if he’d rolled out of bed and into a pair of jeans. “Someone needs a ride?”
John, who stood nearby with his phone, must’ve texted for help.
Matt dropped his arms from his guests and swiped the back of his hand under his nose. Always with the runny nose and bloodshot eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“We’re minimizing distractions around here.” Tim’s gaze swept the women up and down. “And you two look like marvelous distractions.”
The women all but batted their eyelashes as they gravitated toward Awestruck’s manager. They probably thought he was in the band too.
Matt made a grab for Tim’s shoulder to stop him, but John and Gannon stepped between them. In moments, Tim had ushered the women out the door.
Matt hit his palms against Gannon’s shoulders, shoving him back. “You heard what I did to that guy last week.”
Gannon’s anger soared, but he had better recourse than returning the blow. “Try it. You’ll be gone, and not just from the cabin.”
Matt jerked back, stooped, and slung the duffle bag over his shoulder with a grunt. “This isn’t a convent, and I’m not a nun.”
Gannon let the ridiculous statement go unanswered as he shadowed the bassist into the great room and pointed to a door on the second floor. “That one’s yours.”
Matt climbed the stairs, trailing his hand along the railing until he reached the bedroom.
Once Matt shut the door, John dropped onto one of the couches. “Nice room assignment.”
The idea had been that Matt would be easier to supervise if he was near the common living areas, but with the door closed, he could do anything up there. What kind of war would Gannon start by checking on him?
“About what you said”—John brought his gaze down from Matt’s door and met Gannon’s eyes—“I agree. If he crosses the line, I’ll be on your side this time. We’ll fire him.”
This time.
Gannon and John had only discussed firing a band member once before, when the label told them to drop Fitz. Pain spread through Gannon’s chest. Behind that closed door, Matt wasn’t who he used to be, but he didn’t deserve an end like Fitz’s.
“It’d better not come to that.”
John nodded. “But we have to be prepared.”
Gannon retreated to his room, the reminder of Fitz squeezing his lungs. After everything, Gannon had no right to harbor feelings for Adeline. He sat on the bed and peered into the darkness that had settled on the lake. From the edge of the island blackened by night shone the beacon of the lighthouse.
He took the fresh notebook he’d started and worked for about an hour before turning in. But despite the distraction, despite knowing he had no right, as he tried to sleep, thoughts of Adeline plagued him. She was the only woman he knew who’d have his phone number and not use it.