Chapter 12
It’s early, the sun barely rising against the periwinkle sky as I lace up my shoes for a run. Stepping outside, I breathe in the humid air and stretch my hamstrings, jogging in place until my blood begins to stir. It’s been a while since I’ve run consistently, and with each beat of my feet on the pavement, fragments of the old me tingle back to life while someone entirely new emerges alongside him.
People in town have started to greet me when I run past, utterly unfazed by my presence here. To this community, I might as well be another citizen of Singing River. Henry, at the barber shop, always steps out to chat, asking how I’m doing and never failing to offer me a haircut, but I politely decline. The two older men sitting in the same spot every morning at the diner always nod at me from their booth by the window.
This morning, I jog down a street I haven’t been down yet. When a light blue metal building snags my attention, I slow to a walk as I approach. A rusted sign simply says Mike’s Mechanic Shop, and I think about Penny’s Honda with that old ass spare tire. I make a mental note to give Mike a call.
When I return to the apartment, I grab a shower, get dressed for the day, and head to the studio. I’m the first one here and I let myself in with the spare key Penny gave me. Since I’m alone, I take a moment to revel in the wonder of this place. The songs recorded here aren’t obscure ones; they’re songs everyone would instantly recognize. I couldn’t have made it this far in my career without the shoulders of musical giants to stand on, many of whom have stood in this very spot, and the thought almost knocks the breath from my lungs.
The doorknob rattles behind me and Greg walks in, twirling his drumsticks. After this week, it’s evident he’s the patriarch of this group. All of them—Penny included—look to him for leadership and advice. Greg must realize I’m lost in my thoughts because he busies himself, preparing the studio for the day. After he’s gotten all the monitors and amps turned on and started a pot of coffee, he comes to stand beside me.
“You know, Penny used to be different.”
“Different?” I ask, looking over at him. Based on her stories, I can tell she’s changed, but I’m curious where he’s going with this.
He nods his head, smiling. “She was full of life, brightening every room she stepped into. She was the sun and everyone felt lucky to be in her orbit, ya know?
I nod, silently thinking that not much has changed. Gravity is continuously pulling me to her.
Greg continues. “Lisa might say this is Penny’s story to tell, but I’m sharing it anyway. I don’t know how much she’s told you about Charlie and Susan, but Susan died when she was twelve. Charlie was overcome with grief, and it’s like she went out of her way to be that sun for him. The only time I ever knew of her crying was the day of the funeral. Lisa always says Penny was afraid if she fell apart, she’d lose both of them.”
He’s quiet for a minute, like that’s all he’ll say on the subject, but then he goes on. “It took a lot of encouragement from everyone to convince her to go off to college. And Charlie, man, was he proud. I’ve never seen a prouder papa.”
Mine and Penny’s conversation from the other night snags in my mind, but I suspect I’m the only person who knows the real story, so I keep my lips sealed.
“When Penny returned and realized how far down the bottle Charlie was, we all watched her slowly become a dimmer version of herself. She thinks she’s fooling everyone with that happy face she wears when anyone is looking. She’s never said it, but we all figure she carries a lot of guilt because she wasn’t here to keep an eye on him. Pretty sure that’s why she works herself to the bone.”
I toss Greg’s words around in my mind. The stories Penny has shared with me make it clear she used to be full of life, but it hadn’t dawned on me that she might be blaming herself for her dad’s death or the condition of the studio.
“Greg, I think she and I are more alike than different.”
He reaches over and lays a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Well, son, that’s kinda where I was going with this. I’ve seen a little of her old spark shining through all week. You’ve been good for our girl. She took on a lot when she took over the studio, and it's rare to see her do anything for herself anymore.”
His last words are a distant buzz in my ear. I’m hung up on that one phrase. Our girl . I know he means the band’s girl, the town’s girl, but for a second I allow myself to believe that she’s also mine.
“Our girl’s been good for me, too.” I meet his eyes; my words hanging in the air with an understanding silence. “Hey, do you have any fishing poles?”
Greg’s eyes widen at my sudden change in subject, but he catches up quickly. “Sure do, but that garage of Penny’s is packed full of Charlie’s rods and reels,” he says. “His lures are probably dry-rotted by now, but you can buy some worms or chicken livers at the tackle store.”
“Thanks, man. You think she’d like that—to go fishing?” Something foreign has come over me, and it takes me a second to realize what it is. Nerves. I’ve stood on a stage in front of thousands of people, and I’m nervous about asking a girl to go fishing.
“Will you be there?”
My face must show my confusion because Greg laughs. “You’d have to be an idiot not to notice that she enjoys being around you. Yes, son, she’ll like going fishing with you.”
Liam walks in, interrupting us, and we get ready for the day. This week has flown by, recording one song after another. I’ve never felt this way about an album. My first album had original songs on it, but I was young, and it reflected in my amateur writing. Now, it’s like something magical is happening.
At times, I’ve almost sworn gossamer wisps of magic were hanging in the air, too faint to touch, but there all the same. Between this town, with its river that sings, this studio with the ghosts of musical giants, and Penny and her band, my songs sound better than I ever dreamed they could.
We don’t break for lunch, eating as we record, because we’re laser-focused on finishing up the first half of my list, but I decide to call it a day early since it's Friday and we’ve made incredible progress in such a short time. Plus, I’ve got a fishing date to go on—if Penny wants to go, that is. I wait until the guys all leave and walk over to where she’s sitting on the floor, tidying up a Rubbermaid tub of cords and mics.
It’s been years since I’ve asked a girl out on a date, and I’m pacing a ditch into the carpet, thinking of how to ask her. Life on the road hasn’t left much room for dating. But is this even a date? No, I know damn well if I call it that, she’ll give me that whole “just business” spiel again, regardless that all signs point otherwise.
Finally, Penny looks up from the mess, amusement dancing in her eyes. “I’m getting secondhand anxiety here. Spit it out, whatever you’re wanting to say.”
I take in a fortifying breath. “You wanna go fishing? It’s still early and Greg said your dad’s rods and reels are still in your garage.” There, that was easy enough.
She drops the cords back in the box, her amusement morphing to tenderness that hits me right in the solar plexus.
“Austin”—Penny clutches her heart, her lips breaking into a smile—“I’d love that!”
“Well, we can untangle all that later. C’mon.” I extend my hand, pulling her from where she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, and we head to her house to get everything ready.
Penny opens the garage door, and once my eyes have adjusted to the dark, I see dozens of rods and reels hanging on one wall. I’ve done plenty of fishing in my life with my uncle and Tyler, so I pick out one for each of us. Greg was right; the lures are dry-rotted, but I grab a tackle box full of bobbers and run to buy some bait while she makes sandwiches.
When I return we load up the van and head where she directs me to a good fishing spot. There’s also a few piers, a marina, a snow cone stand, and a playground. She and I walk to the grassy bank and set up for the evening.
“You need me to put the worm on for you?” I ask. “I know some people don’t like touching ‘em.”
She doesn’t say a word—just reaches into the container and pulls out the fattest worm without a hint of squeamishness. Once it’s threaded onto the hook, she glances up and flashes me a smug grin.
“Well, alrighty then. Looks like you’ve got this,” I say, returning her grin.
We both cast out and sit in a peaceful silence, watching our bobbers and the occasional fish jumping above the surface. Nearby, a red bird flits closer, pecking at the ground. Penny watches it intently, chewing her lip.
At least five minutes pass but she finally speaks up. “Thank you for this. This is exactly what I needed.”
I feel safe bringing up my conversation with Greg since he didn’t indicate it was spoken in confidence. “Yeah, listen, I don’t know how much I’m supposed to say, but Greg and I talked for a few minutes this morning. Sounds like you’ve got a lot of people who worry about you. Greg was acting like you never take a break.”
She puffs out a big breath to the sky. “I schedule musicians back to back to get the books on track. I have a week-long break after your session ends, but that’s practically unheard of. I handle all the bookings, the social media, and the bookkeeping. Not to mention, I also work the sound booth. Greg’s wife, Lisa, helps me as much as she can with the accounting, but she’s not that great at spreadsheets. It’s usually easier to do things myself. She’s kinda old school, ya know?” She turns sideways to face me. “I’m so close to having things on track. Like, really close.”
“You’ve taken a step back this week, though. Right?”
“Well…” Penny tilts her head back and forth. “I’ve been waking up earlier to get things done.”
My jaw goes slack and I blink at her.
She grins, nudging my knee with hers. “The delicious dinners have been worth the early mornings.”
“Just the dinners?”
Her smile widens. “Maybe a bit more than the dinners.”
I chuckle at her response. “So why do you do it all? That seems like too much for one person.”
“Remember I told you we had a dry spell?” I nod, and she continues. “There’s no money to hire people for those positions. There will be soon, but I’m not quite there yet. Until some things get squared away, it’s all on me.”
“Can I do anything to help?” I ask. “Once recording wraps, I’ll have extra time on my hands and honestly…I’m not sure what to do with spare time. You’d basically be doing me a favor.”
“You’d spend your time off helping me?”
Penny has no clue, but I’m starting to think it would be a privilege to spend this time helping her.
“’Course I would. You’ve given me somewhere to stay and been a friend to me. I’d absolutely help with whatever you need. All you gotta do is say the word.”
“Well…” She drags out the word. “How handy are you? The studio needs a few small repairs. Nothing major—some pressure washing outside, some of the paint needs updating, a couple of light fixtures need replacing.” She ticks each task off on her fingers. “The thing is, I don’t have any extra to pay someone to do it right now. Greg and the guys have served their time helping, and I can’t bring myself to ask for more from them.”
“I’d love to help. How many people can say that they repainted the walls of one of the greatest studios in history?”
We make a list of everything we’ll need from the hardware store and then get back to fishing, exchanging easy conversation.
“Hungry?” I ask, heading to the cooler. I grab a water for myself and a Coke Zero for her.
“Starved.” She stands, abandoning her fishing pole. “Maybe after we eat we can walk over and buy some snow cones for dessert.”
We spread the blanket on the grass, setting out everything Penny packed—turkey sandwiches and sliced watermelon. We eat in silence as the sun dips lower in the sky creating a kaleidoscope of vibrant pinks and oranges.
My eyes drift over to her profile, the fading light casting a warm glow over her face. Each day this week, I’ve noticed something new about her, small and large details that help me to see her more fully. The first time I laid eyes on her I was struck by her beauty, and it still takes my breath away, but I’m beginning to see just how deep it goes.
Yes, there's the small things, like the constellation of freckles sprinkled along her shoulders and chest that I’d taste and explore if she’d let me. But when we’re in the middle of a song and I look over at her, eyes closed and a contented smile curling at her lips like she’s not only hearing the music but feeling it in every part of her, my heart turns over in my chest. Or the way her entire face lights up when she talks about her friends.
It’s clear to me that when Penny does something, she gives it everything she’s got—there’s nothing halfway with her. I know that if we could find our way from whatever we’re doing to something more she’d give me every bit of herself. But could I give her all of myself in return?
“You’re beautiful, Penny.” My unfiltered words tumble out, cutting through the silence.
From her profile, I see that she’s smiling, but she doesn’t turn to face me. “You can’t say things like that.”
Penny’s hand goes to her mouth and she chews on her nails, a habit she seems to do almost constantly. Reaching over, I ease her hand back to her lap. “Penny.” My voice is low, and she looks over at me, her gaze meeting mine. I’m surprised by the uncertainty there. “You are objectively beautiful. Nobody on earth would say otherwise. But you’re not only beautiful on the outside. Your heart is just as stunning, if not more. Everyone around here sees it. I see it."
The moment stretches out between us and it feels like an eternity passes, but it’s probably no more than ten seconds.
A million emotions flicker across her face, until suddenly, her expression transforms. Her eyes sparkle and her lips curve into a grin. Before my brain can catch up with the sudden shift, I hear the challenge.
“Last one to the playground buys snow cones.” Penny jumps up, charging full speed toward the swings off to our left, her laughter trailing behind her like music.
Even though she gets a head start, my legs are longer and I catch up to her in a matter of seconds. She’s slowed to catch her breath, and I scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder fireman style. She lets out a surprised shriek and I take off toward the playground.
When we reach it, I lie her down on the slide and lean over, caging her in between my arms.
“You, my dear, are remarkably slow. Like a cute little sloth.”
A laugh wheezes out of her that I’d love to capture with my mouth. But instead I move to take a seat on the swing closest to where she’s lying.
“When this studio time ends, I’d like to take you on a real date.” Penny sucks in a breath at my admission, but I go on like I didn’t hear her. “I’m aware that’s breaking all these rules you’ve created for yourself, but I really enjoy your company. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you enjoy mine, too.”
Wordlessly, she stands and walks over, sinking onto the swing beside me and pushes herself back and forth with her feet. We sway like that, the cars on the bridge above our heads the only thing we hear.
“Double or nothing, whoever can jump the furthest wins.” She breaks the silence, pumping her legs as she swings higher.
“A date?” I ask, trying to match her pumps.
“Yep.”
All it takes is that one word, and I’m pumping my legs like it’s my job. I swing higher and higher; meanwhile, she’s swinging half my height. I’m so focused on going as high as possible that I almost miss her countdown.
“Five, four, three, two, one.” I leap like I’m seven and not thirty-four, my body hitting the ground with a hard thud that I know I’ll feel tomorrow. Meanwhile, Penny lands like a cat, several feet beyond where I’ve landed. I’m still lying there groaning when she comes to stand looking down at me.
“I still want that date,” I say, clutching my side. “Just sayin’.”
She laughs, and I grab her hand, pulling her on top of me and she rolls onto the grass beside me.
We’re lying there looking up at the evening sky, when she turns, propping up on one elbow.
“Next week is the River Fest downtown. Come with me.”
I look over at her, unable to mask the smile that’s stretched across my face.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She’s quiet for a beat, her eyes on mine, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
“Come home and watch some TV with me.”