Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
For the first time in his life, Caleb wished he didn’t have to attend a rehearsal.
As strained as this one felt in the parlor that evening, he just wanted to shut it down and talk to Ariel alone. Away from the musicians and the music and Ariel’s stress of leading this band.
Away from the awkwardness of singing country love-song duets with the girl who used to be his girl. Or might have been, if things had gone differently.
“I’m not happy with my timing in the second line of the chorus.” She frowned at her lead sheet. “Caleb, would you run through it with me again?”
At his nod, the band went into break mode.
Caleb turned off his amp, then unplugged his guitar. The sound of musicians on their break—improvised guitar licks, drum solos, the ever-present corny jokes—followed Caleb and Ariel to the porch.
He held the door for her, and they stepped onto the porch—the scene of their kiss.
Caleb pushed aside the thought. “Your timing’s tight in the chorus. Unless you’re going for a different vibe.”
“I don’t know what I’m going for. What I’m doing isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t feel right either.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I wish my aunt was here.”
“Does she know when she’s coming back?”
Ariel shook her head. “Would it be wrong to dismiss for the night?”
“I think you should. I’ll walk you back to the Grand.”
She pulled a sigh from deep within. “It’s difficult enough as it is, seeing you so much and…I’ll just ride back with the band.”
“Ariel, if I could make this work—”
“I know.”
Later, Caleb watched the band from the hotel porch as they rolled down the street in horse-drawn carriages. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. Caleb wanted to blame the inn, his grandfather. Elizabeth Jane and that land grant of hers.
Even the bedbugs. Because if they didn’t have bedbugs, Ariel would be right here, right now, in her suite. And he’d be nearby, in case she needed him.
But he’d already given this mess to the Lord. So he had to trust Him with her.
He went inside and headed toward his room. On the way, he passed Granddad’s door, open just a crack.
Caleb stepped inside the empty living room. “Granddad?”
“In here.”
When Caleb reached the bedroom, Granddad had on pajamas and stood beside the bed with his walker.
“Didn’t your aide come to help you to bed?”
“I called and told him not to come. Don’t need them anymore.” With the covers already turned down, Granddad lowered himself to the bed.
They’d see how that went. “Your door was open.”
“I did that so you’d come in.” Granddad pointed at an antique wooden chair in the corner. “Pull up that Windsor chair.”
Caleb picked up the chair and set it by the bed. Didn’t realize how tired he was until he sat down. “You could have called. You have a cell phone now.”
“Could have called you with my real phone too, if I wanted to. I didn’t want to disturb your rehearsal.”
Since when did his grandfather care if he disrupted Caleb’s music?
What was going on here?
Granddad kicked off his slippers and pulled in his feet. Sat propped up against the headboard. “I wanted you to come and see me tonight because I want you to do something.”
Caleb glanced around. Everything looked okay in here. “What’s wrong?”
“You are.”
He drew a blank. “I’m wrong? About what?” Probably everything.
Granddad just sat there, smirking. “You’re in the wrong job.”
“I’ll give you that.”
“You’ve made improvements and good decisions. But after we prayed this afternoon, I realized this isn’t where the Lord wants you. It wasn’t fair of me to ask you to do a job you didn’t want or know how to do.”
Granddad wanted him to quit? Had anyone ever gotten such a fast, decisive answer to prayer? “What about the hotel? Our legacy? What about Elizabeth Jane’s land grant?”
“That land grant isn’t going anywhere.” Granddad pulled his down pillow from behind his back and gave it a few punches, then settled it behind him again.
“Think, boy. Talk to that consultant woman you hired, and convince her to take the manager job. She’ll know how to make this place profitable again. Then you can go back to your band.”
Caleb had a better idea. “What if I tour with a band in the winter and come back to help with the inn during the busy season?”
“Suit yourself.” Granddad scooted down in the bed and dragged his pillow with him. “Go on now and let me get some sleep.”
After leaving Granddad’s apartment, Caleb remembered to make sure Rufus had fixed the window in his old bedroom. He took the stairs to his family’s apartment.
Inside, he didn’t hurry as before. This time, on the way to his old bedroom, he slowed down, letting decades-old memories surface. Birthdays, holidays, ordinary days—the entire family had spent their time together back then. Checked on each other every day, helped each other. Often ate together.
In the bedroom, he checked the now-secure window, then noticed his closet door standing open a few inches. He opened it and found his old, never-played white guitar, standing beside Dad’s violin case.
There was no mistaking the case. But he still didn’t understand why someone had put Dad’s violin in Caleb’s guitar case.
He opened the violin case and found a small envelope, his name inscribed in Dad’s handwriting on the front.
Caleb picked it up, his throat tightening. Held the envelope and took in his father’s familiar scrawling handwriting. Felt the heavy paper. Most likely Dad was the last person to touch it.
Caleb strode to Dad’s office and snatched his letter opener from his desk. Came back and slit the envelope and pulled out a card with a picture of the parlor decorated for Christmas on its front. When he opened it, an old photograph fell to the floor.
He picked it up and saw an image of Michelle as a little girl, playing a violin—the one they’d found when he, Ariel, and Isaiah first came to their family apartment. At least now he knew who the beginner-level instrument belonged to.
And he could see Michelle leaving it here as a symbol of her grief.
Maybe someday he’d ask her about it, but for now, she clearly didn’t want it.
He set the picture on the nightstand and turned his attention to the card.
My Christmas gift to you is my most prized and valuable possession: my del Gesù violin. Now that you’ve started college, you’ll have career decisions to make. Your grandfather wants you to run the hotel. But your mother and I want you to hear from the Lord and do exactly what He says.
This present comes wrapped in a strange package: your guitar case.
But when I saw you carry it home today, I knew this would be the safest place for the violin.
Your grandmother’s dementia has worsened, and things have disappeared.
I don’t want that to happen to this violin.
But since your grandmother saw you carry this case into the hotel tonight, she knows it’s yours, so she won’t bother it as she might my violin case.
I hope that, when you opened your guitar case, you were surprised to see this gift.
I want you to use it any way you please, maybe to keep and play or to sell and invest the money in your career or a home.
Either way, I hope this violin will help you establish yourself and walk in the will of God, whether it’s music, the inn, or something else.
I love you with all my heart,
Dad
PS: Michelle wanted you to have this picture, but she was too bashful to give it to you herself.
Caleb opened the empty Musafia case and ran his fingers over its thick padding, leather lining, and Swarovski crystals. But far more important than either the violin or the case was his father’s blessing to follow the Lord’s will for his life.
Between this note and his grandfather’s words, Caleb understood exactly what that will was.
The Lord knew he needed something special tonight, because days ago, when Ariel moved to the Grand, the light seemed to leave his life.
He hadn’t realized how much he looked forward to her early-morning smile.
How much she cared about people—all of them.
How much sunshine she brought to his shadowy, gloomy life.
Caleb needed her light, her warmth, that always dispelled his darkness. And would have run to the Grand to be with her if it wasn’t late.
Instead, he locked the apartment and trudged down the stairs to the parlor.
“Where are you going? It’s after ten at night.” Blake’s voice cut through the dimly lit room where, moments before, only the ticking of the old mantel clock sounded.
Caleb squinted in the dusky light and found him in one of the upholstered chairs near the bookcases, a small lamp lighted on the table by his side. “You still here?”
“Decided to hang around a while.” Blake held up his latest mystery novel.
Just a prop, Caleb was sure. “Still hard to go home, isn’t it?”
“Some nights are worse than others.” A frown embedded itself on his forehead. “What are you doing about Ariel? Everybody can see you two belong together.”
Caleb blew out a breath. “I’m a wayward grandson and failing innkeeper. She’s Ariel Sullivan, for Pete’s sake. She could have about any single man she wanted.”
“Then explain why she spends every day helping you succeed. Why her eyes light when she sees you, and how she changed your grandfather from a bear into a lamb.” Blake closed his book, set it on the side table.
“Truth is, you don’t think Jesus can come up with a creative way for your love life to work out. ”
The last thing Caleb had expected was to hear the note of sarcasm in his friend’s voice. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, but I can think of a few examples when He did the impossible. Like Daniel in the lions’ den. Option one: stop praying to God. Option two: keep praying and die. God’s creative way: How about I close the lions’ mouths, and you live?”
“I’ll admit this inn sometimes feels like a lions’ den.”