Chapter 42

 

Carol had forgotten the delirious sound of a live band in a confined space. Standing against the back wall with Joey, she drank it all in. Driving bass line, passionate drums, hoarse vocals, lead guitar cranked into the sweet spot without slipping into a jangling buzz. Paul on stage, grey leather jacket hanging open and hair sweat-spiked, lost in Beatles chords.

The music, the excited high school crowd, swept Carol back to her own teens and the magic of the early years with Skip. Paul delivered a screaming guitar solo and her pulse thrilled.

She put her lips to Joey’s ear. “He is good.”

Smiling, he nodded and tightened his arm around her waist. “Told you so.”

They could have sat with Tara-Lynn and Amber, but Carol hadn’t been sure she could stay. Now she couldn’t leave.

Carol caught Vincenzo Morelli’s eye farther along the wall. Pride radiated from him in nearly visible waves, and no wonder. The music teacher nodded, and she smiled.

The Les Paul sounded as good as Paul said it would. It was the guitar that made Carol accept the surprise inheritance from Patrick. Half his estate went to cancer research, and half to Carol. At least he hadn’t left her the evil cat.

The lawyer assured her it was legitimate even though Patrick had made the changes the morning of his death. Carol wouldn’t see the bulk of the cash until all the paperwork was settled, but the lawyer had advanced enough to cover Paul’s dream guitar.

Carol couldn’t think of Patrick without sadness. He’d betrayed her, but then he’d given his life to save her. If he hadn’t died, word of Patrick’s involvement with Lear would have destroyed his reputation. Image was all he’d had left. Maybe he’d prefer it this way.

Patrick’s bequest could never compensate for what she’d been through, but Carol respected his desire to make amends. She hoped his soul was at peace.

The death of Lear — identified in the media as George Sinclare — brought Carol only relief. Detective Garraway said the drug ring scattered like roaches under a spotlight before their leader reached the morgue. So much for the carefully-assembled evidence. While she’d love to have seen justice done, with Lear gone, Carol and Paul were free.

Paul had sent Harry a letter after things settled down, and Carol assumed the news had reached her brother through Garraway as well. She’d have to talk to Harry herself, give him a chance to tell his side of the story, see if he’d really changed. Someday.

For now, it was enough to be free.

The band’s raw energy vibrated through the floor into Carol’s feet.

Free and in God’s hands. God would do a better job shaping their lives than she had done alone. Look at Paul on stage, full of talent and potential.

Carol leaned into Joey’s side. Who’d have thought she’d be learning to trust the heart of God — and the heart of an innocent man?

The song ended in a drawn-out chord rattling with reverb. When the applause died down, Paul gripped the microphone and looked to the back of the room. “This next song’s not as classic as Beatles but it’s still from before my time. For a special lady, Billy Joel’s ‘It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me.’ I love you, Mom.”