Chapter Seven #3
The music started, a simple melody I recognized as “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” Brynn began singing first, her voice surprisingly strong for her age.
After the first line, Lily joined in, her small voice trembling slightly but gaining strength as they continued.
The girls had choreographed simple hand movements to accompany the lyrics, Lily managing to perform them even with her injuries while Brynn mirrored her.
Something caught in my chest watching them. Just days ago, Lily had been sobbing in a hospital bed, her world collapsing around her. Now she stood singing before a room of strangers turned friends, her face alight with joy. By my way of thinking, that made Lily one tough cookie.
My gaze found Eliza in the crowd. She sat near the front, her phone held up to capture the performance, her face a mixture of pride and pure joy. The rigid tension defining her body language since I’d met her had softened, her shoulders relaxed as she watched her daughter shine.
When the song ended, the room erupted in applause. Lily beamed, taking an exaggerated bow that nearly toppled her over before Brynn steadied her with a gentle hand. They skipped back to their seats together, Lily immediately climbing onto Eliza’s lap to watch the next performers.
Several more children took their turns at the microphone, some confident, others barely audible as stage fright overtook them.
Each received the same enthusiastic applause regardless of performance quality.
The atmosphere reminded me of the small-town venues where I’d started my music career, before Nashville’s bright lights and larger stages.
The feeling of community, of acceptance regardless of skill, was something I hadn’t experienced in years.
“Mom’s turn next,” I heard Brynn announce after the last child performed. “Mom always sings at our family nights.”
Lavender laughed but stood up good-naturedly, accepting the microphone from Hannah. She belted something called K-pop. When she finished, the children began clamoring for more adults to perform.
“What about Lily’s mom?” someone called out. “Lily said she used to sing in bars!”
All eyes turned to Eliza, who shrank back in her seat, shaking her head slightly. Lily tugged at her sleeve, looking up with pleading eyes.
“Please, Mommy? Just one song?”
Eliza hesitated, her gaze darting around the room at the expectant faces while they all cheered for her to take the stage.
For a moment, I thought Eliza would refuse, retreat back into the protective shell she’d only just begun to emerge from.
Then Lily whispered something in her ear, and her expression softened.
“All right,” she said finally, her voice barely carrying to where I stood. “Just one.”
She rose slowly, passing Lily to Lavender who sat beside her. As Eliza approached the microphone, I noticed how her hands trembled slightly. She whispered something to Hannah, who nodded and scrolled through the music selection on the laptop connected to the speakers.
The first notes filled the room, a peppy Dolly Parton song. Not what I expected from the quiet, reserved woman I’d come to know over the past days. The children all bounced and danced with the music and were having a great time.
I’m not sure I’d ever seen anyone ever have as much fun as Eliza had while she performed for the kids. She had them all dancing and singing right along with her. But the most extraordinary thing in the whole scene was Eliza’s voice.
Her voice spread like a wildfire catching the treetops, growing stronger and more confident with each note.
The bright, fearless energy sprinkled deliberately with an energetic sass, making it impossible not to clap my hands along with everyone else.
Her voice filled the room with a clear, playful warmth.
And, just like Dolly, Eliza packed a big voice, the kind of voice I’d heard at auditions where producers leaned forward in their seats, suddenly alert to the presence of rare talent.
I felt the hairs on my arms rise as she hit the chorus, her voice taking flight above the recorded instruments.
This wasn’t karaoke anymore. This was artistry, pure and unfiltered and so much fun no one could hear her singing and not be grinning from ear to ear.
This Eliza radiated confidence and grace, commanding attention without effort.
I knew what it meant to lose yourself in music, to find freedom in melody when life offered none.
Never had I seen someone so completely transformed as I witnessed with Eliza now.
Watching her, I felt as though I was seeing the real Eliza for the first time, beyond the protective walls she’d built around herself and her daughter.
Everyone cheered and clapped, the kids jumping up and down while I’d noticed several of the brothers and their women dancing. Actually fucking dancing! The guys whistled while the women whooped along with the kids.
Lily broke free from Lavender’s lap, running to her mother with obvious pride. “That’s my mommy!” she announced to everyone within earshot. “I told you she sings pretty!”
As the applause continued, Lily’s gaze swept the room and landed on me, still standing half-hidden near the supply closet. Her face lit up with recognition and she pointed in my direction, waving her good arm enthusiastically.
“Cash!” she called out, her voice carrying above the crowd. “Did you hear my mommy sing?”
Heads turned in my direction, including Eliza’s. Her eyes widened when she spotted me, something unreadable flashing across her face. For a moment, our gazes locked across the room, and I felt an almost physical pull toward her.
But this wasn’t my place. This moment of triumph belonged to her and Lily, to the community they were building here. Before Lily could make her way through the crowd toward me, I stepped back through the supply room door and out the back entrance, into the warm evening air.
The sound of renewed music and laughter followed me across the compound as I headed back to my bike.
Her voice echoed in my mind, stirring memories of smoke-filled bars and dreams I’d thought long buried.
I’d come to Haven tonight to check they were settling in, to assure myself my help was no longer needed.
Instead, I’d discovered another piece of the puzzle that was Eliza Jans, another reason to stay away before I became more invested than I already was.
Yet even as I cranked my bike to life, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. Something about the mother and daughter had gotten under my skin, and no amount of distance would change how I felt now.