Chapter 5 #4
Caleb reached across the table and took her hand. “How long does Miss Dahlia plan to make you live this way? Because there’s a man out there somewhere who would love you and make your life better, happier—safer than a bubble.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. What about you? Have you dated much?”
He let out a breath. “Not much. I thought I was in love once, even got engaged. But she broke it off.”
“Oh…I’m sorry.”
“No, she was right to do it. It was my freshman year in college. I knew from the beginning that she wanted a husband and family—wanted to be a wife and mother. She would have been a good one. But my grandfather put a lot of pressure on me to come home from LA and take over the inn. I wanted a career in music. Stephanie got tired of waiting for me to decide—said that if I don’t know what I want in life, I can’t handle marriage and raising children. ”
“Did she ever get married?”
“I heard she married a pastor, which would be a good fit. She loved the Lord. I haven’t dated since.”
The warmth of his hand and the old, smooth music soothed her heart and made her think that one day, everything could change. Maybe someday she could even break free of the confinement of fame, of performances. Of loneliness.
She looked up to see her aunt approaching their table, and she pulled away her hand.
“We’re calling it a night.” Aunt Dahlia looked from one to the other of them, her eyes gleaming with that sixth sense of hers that told her something was going on and she should find out what it was.
Caleb stood and said a quick goodbye before helping Blake clear the tables into a black bussing tub.
Aunt Dahlia hurried her toward their suite.
Once inside, she took Ariel’s hand and led her to sit beside her on the worn sofa.
Looked at her with more tenderness in her eyes than Ariel remembered ever seeing there, with none of the anxiety she’d seen in them on the porch.
“Darlin’, you and Caleb sounded fantastic on the porch tonight.
I’m proud of you for blessing your fans. ”
Something in her aunt’s tone stirred Ariel’s heart. Did she doubt Ariel could discover that elusive element the band needed? Was Aunt Dahlia out of ideas? Did she fear Ariel falling in love and leaving her alone? Or did some other deep insecurity drive her?
Either way, Ariel owed her everything and needed to settle down.
“Remember, we came here to improve the band and rest before we start touring in August. That won’t leave time for concerts on the porch.”
Oh, Aunt Dahlia…
“I’m sorry for singing your soprano part tonight. But I honestly didn’t expect you to show up.”
Her aunt lifted one bejeweled hand with perfectly manicured nails and brushed back a lock of Ariel’s hair, her touch as gentle as the first night they’d spent together alone at Aunt Dahlia’s Whippoorwill Ranch, when Ariel was ten years old.
“Traditions matter, but they’re not usually a hill to die on. It took me by surprise, that’s all.”
“But Auntie, you put me in charge of bringing the band to a higher level. That’s why Caleb and I made an agreement: I help him with his failing hotel, and he helps me with our wildly successful yet not-good-enough band.”
She let out a deep sigh. “I wish you’d asked me first.”
Asked her? “When someone’s in charge, they ‘charge,’ right? Not go back and ask permission.”
Aunt Dalia hesitated, gaze lowered, the way she did when intentionally slowing the pace of a conversation and cooling it down to avoid contention. Then she looked up, her eyes as serious as Ariel had ever seen them. “Caleb is handsome. He seems nice. But I made a promise to your father.”
And Aunt Dahlia always kept her promises. No one knew that better than Ariel. “I’m twenty-four years old, Auntie. How long did you promise to keep me away from every eligible man? Until I’m sixty?”
Aunt Dahlia’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. “It’s not that. Your daddy wants you to be safe, not become an old maid like me.”
“I’m sorry, Auntie. I didn’t mean it that way.
Nobody would call you an old maid. You’re the most youthful sixty-year-old woman anybody has ever seen.
Thousands of men would marry you today.” Ariel closed her eyes for a moment and blew out a slow breath.
She hurried to slip her arm around her aunt’s impossibly tiny waist. “But I’ll be an old maid if I’m not allowed to date. ”
Her aunt hugged her back, then she broke the moment, keeping emotions at bay as usual.
“Your daddy didn’t give me a timeline. But I know how the entertainment biz works.
Nashville’s full of low-down men who only want to take something from you.
The Lord and your mother chose me to protect you from them, and that’s what I’m going to do. ”
Yes, she would. Because Dahlia Denton always kept her word.
Caleb missed the band most at sunset. But sunrise music always set the tone for his day and helped everything go more smoothly.
After last night, he needed some things straightened out.
He grabbed his tablet from the desk in front of his living room window and headed for the lobby.
On the other end of the hall from Granddad’s, this suite had a third of the square footage and felt mediocre at best, dated like the rest of the hotel.
The part they still used, anyway. The parlor wing retained the hotel’s former glamour, having escaped the 1980s renovation.
At least, it did the last time Caleb saw it twelve years ago, after the great tragedy that caused Granddad to lock it and, as far as anyone knew, throw away the keys.
Granddad’s outburst to Caleb, Uncle Augo, and Aunt Annabelle had never left him. I don’t ever want to see this parlor again. If any of you opens this door, you’re no longer part of my family.
Caleb couldn’t do anything about the distant past. However, the memories he’d made with Ariel had hovered ever since they played their impromptu, four-minute concert last night.
The music had flowed nearly without effort, the song’s story of legacy and perseverance somehow forming a bond too close for such a short acquaintance.
And for such a short song.
The connection between them seemed so strong, he might have embarrassed himself and said too much if Miss Dahlia hadn’t interrupted. Because even though he’d experienced indescribable unity when playing with his band, this had felt different. In fact, he had no words for his emotions.
Lord, thank You for allowing me to share those moments with Ariel. Even if they might get me in trouble in the future.
Too bad her aunt had come out at just the wrong time.
But what Miss Dahlia wanted, Miss Dahlia got, and the world knew it.
She wanted Ariel safe, even though shielding her from the world seemed extreme.
Not to mention that placing the band’s future in Ariel’s inexperienced hands might not be the best business decision.
But everyone in Nashville knew that once Dahlia Denton made up her mind, they’d better get out of her way.
The first thin light of morning crossed the sky as Caleb entered the lobby.
Mornings like this, he craved the fellowship of his band, the ribbing and clean humor they shared as they piled into their bus, headed for the next gig.
Simply getting together and adding his voice, his harmony—his heart—to the song always made him feel he’d finally made it home.
Would those days ever come back?
With nearly all the guests still in their rooms, Caleb found this quiet hour the most peaceful of the day.
He carried his guitar through the front door and headed to his secret porch.
The sweet-smelling lilac bushes nearly hid the little porch that led to the narrow wooden employee staircase.
But they couldn’t muffle the sound of boat motors on the harbor gearing up for a day of fishing, waterskiing, or just puttering around giant Lake Huron.
As he had every morning since his arrival, he sat on the white-painted wooden step and quickly tuned his guitar. Granddad used to rest here at sunrise, wanting to hear the early-morning birdcalls. Today Caleb would rather make his own music.
First he looked out on the harbor, its surface flat today in the still air, the sun rising higher in the sky.
As a teen, he’d loved the view of blue water, sailboats and motorboats lined up in slips, and the old gray yacht club building, back when Granddad, Grandma, Mom, and Dad lived and worked together here.
Even Uncle Augo helped as he could, when he wasn’t pastoring his little island flock or performing tourists’ weddings in Little Stone Bible Church.
How did everything change so fast, with Mom and Dad gone for twelve years now and Uncle Augo retired and working the inn’s reception desk some evenings and doing what he pleased?
Pretty soon, Caleb would need to face the fact that his grandfather couldn’t come back to work. Couldn’t take care of himself.
Couldn’t hear the birds from the porch.
A melancholy tune quickly came to Caleb, and he hummed along as he played a simple chord progression, improvising a melody.
Thinking of Granddad and his beloved songbirds again, he changed up his tune and slid his hand up the guitar neck, plucked a few high notes, his own rendition of the song of the whippoorwills that used to live in the island’s state park.
Until the porch door opened and broke his rhythm.
“Caleb?” Sarah’s voice held a note of distress. “I need you inside.”
He shot to his feet and took the seven steps two at a time. “What’s going on?”
“Your grandfather’s in the lobby, and he’s not happy.”
Well, what was new?
Caleb hurried inside. Sure enough, there sat the elderly Jacob Kennedy in front of the reception desk, wearing dark trousers, a white collared shirt, buttoned-up black sweater, and black house slippers, shouting orders from his wheelchair and glaring at the brass chandelier that had hung there for a hundred years. Or so they said.