Chapter 24 Josh #2
I unzip my guitar from its case and start strumming “America, the Beautiful.” Before I’ve even realized, Melanie’s angelic voice fills the space around us.
Our friends stop what they’re doing and turn their attention to us.
Before long, others start singing along and my whole body fills with warmth.
For so long, I’ve been missing this feeling of home—of comfort.
I don’t speak when the song finishes, instead I begin playing “I’m Proud to be an American,” and it amps up even more people around us.
Even strangers scoot closer to hear us better and join in the sing-along.
Liam and Jack light sparklers and pass them around to everyone.
The feeling of camaraderie that I have lacked for so long envelops me until a knot of emotions forms in my throat and I have to stop singing.
I strum along, my eyes scanning the crowd of strangers and friends alike, singing together, and I realize in this moment—this is what it’s about.
Not playing sold out arenas. There’s a place for that, sure, but I came here looking for something life-affirming and dare I say, at this moment on this beach, I’ve found it.
When I finish the last verse, the crowd erupts into happy cheers that are quickly interrupted by a few test fireworks shooting into the air with a high-pitched whistle. I gently lay my guitar back in its case, and I’m settling into my chair when someone taps my shoulder.
“E-excuse,” a young voice says carefully. “Are you—are you Josh Cote?”
I turn to see a boy, not more than ten, shifting from foot to foot like he’d rather the ocean swallow him whole, his hands twisting in the hem of his T-shirt.
“I sure am.” I grin. “Would you like a picture?”
The boy shrugs, his eyes darting away before flicking back to mine. “I don’t have a phone. I was just wondering if I could ask a question.” He pauses, swallowing hard, and I nod.
The boy sucks in a shaky breath. “How did you get your guitar to sound like that on ‘Fell Too Far’? I’m learning it now and I can’t get it right.”
In the song he’s referring to, I emulate the sound of a pedal steel guitar by holding down two strings together.
I crack a smile. This is so not what I expected this kid to say.
I expected him to ask me something silly about my personal life.
Here he is asking me to show him something. I kneel down and pick up my guitar.
“You mean the pedal steel sound?” I ask, balancing the guitar on my knee.
“Yeah. How do you do that?” The kid cocks his head sideways at me. I take a second to marvel at his courage, approaching me with a technical question simply because he saw his chance.
“Like this.” I show him. “I place my index finger on the B string, on the 7th fret and my ring finger on the G string on the 8th fret. Then I pick both strings together, bending the B string up and holding the G string steady.”
“So cool,” the boy muses.
“Want to try?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
“Try? Try your guitar?” The boy can’t hide his excited disbelief.
“Sure.” I pass my ax to him. “Do what I just did. Index finger on the B on the 7th, good.” I watch as the boy moves his ring finger to the 8th fret, G string without direction. He mimics the exact sound I made moments ago.
“Whoa. Cool.” His grin is infectious. “Thank you so much!”
I laugh. “Don’t mention it, kid. What’s your name?”
He passes the guitar back to me. “Carter. I can’t believe I just played Josh Cote’s guitar.”
“Believe it.” I chuckle. “And I’m playing at Fin’s every Wednesday now. Come play a song with me one of these nights.”
“Seriously?” Carter gasps. “I’ll ask my mom.”
I laugh. “All right. That sounds good.” I turn to Melanie. “Mel, can you snap a photo of us?”
“I’d love to.” Melanie pulls out her phone.
I hold up my guitar, and Carter and I grin as Melanie snaps the last photo we could probably take before the sky turned dark.
“Look for it on Instagram,” I tell him.
Carter thanks us and jogs back to his family. I settle into my chair and find myself smiling. “That was cool,” I say, glancing at Melanie.
“It was. You probably just made that kid's life.” An easy, proud grin slides across her face. “Did it make you feel good?”
“You know what? It really did,” I say, holding out my hand to her. She takes it and her palm is warm, fitting into mine like a lost puzzle piece. The first fireworks start, and everyone settles in to watch the show. “I think maybe I’d like that,” I say, more to myself than to Melanie.
“Like what?” She turns her eyes from the blaze in the sky to look at me.
“Working with kids. Teaching them music.” I shrug, meeting her gaze. “If the deal doesn’t work out.”
“You’d be great at it.” Melanie turns back to the sky. “But the deal will work out.”
“It’s just the first time in a long time that I didn’t feel like I was pretending. That kid looked at me like I could teach him something, not like I owed him something.” I rest my head on the back of the metal beach chair. “It’s just something to think about, maybe.”
Melanie looks my way again and squeezes my hand. “It’s never too late to find a new dream.”