Chapter 4 Hunter
HUNTER
The morning after the dinner with Seraphina and Tyler, I ran south along the beach, sand hard-packed and dark at the waterline. Fog encased the coast, making the air feel as if I were making my way through a fine mist.
I was off work today, which, unfortunately, I’d found difficult of late. All those hours to fill without any purpose made me listless and unfocused.
Today, though, I’d wakened at five a.m. and sat straight up, fully alert.
My mind already working before my body caught up, itching to create.
This was the way I used to feel all the time.
Before I met Dana. Before I’d allowed myself to fall for her and become obsessed with trying to be what she wanted.
As I ran, I thought about the previous evening. I couldn’t remember a time I’d enjoyed more since I’ve come to Willet Cove. Being in Seraphina’s home, getting to know her son, had been strangely easy. Almost familiar.
Tyler putting together the playlist of my hits had touched my heart. It would have taken some research to find them all. I wasn’t sure exactly why he’d done it, but it was sweet no matter the motive.
As I ran, I thought about what Seraphina had said about the first time she heard “Already Gone.” She’d had to pull to the side of the road she was so moved by my song and Ivy’s spectacular interpretation of it.
It didn’t get much better as an artist to hear something like that.
However, knowing that she’d related to it from a place of deep hurt and betrayal made me sad.
You’re not too much, Mom. That guy wasn’t enough.
My feet found their rhythm on the wet sand. Most of the time I ran to music, but today I’d decided to see what might pop into my head with only the waves and gulls competing for my attention. What did I hear over and over? Seraphina’s voice saying, Or something like that anyway.
I ran another half mile, and by the time I turned back the nagging had become a pulling sensation behind my sternum that I hadn’t felt in over a year.
The dormant muses seemed to have awakened from their long, dreamless sleep.
More fragments came as I ran. She left a note.
My mother’s note on the kitchen table. Seven words that changed everything.
Then Dana’s note, the cruel echo of history repeating itself.
Making me sure I understood. You are the problem.
You are the one who held on too tightly.
Seraphina had left me a note too. Only this one had been written across sixty novels.
I’d felt as if she were speaking to just me in those books, even though that was impossible, since I’d not met her yet.
Probably all of her readers felt the same way.
She wrote this for me. When, in fact, she never knew who picked up her book and devoured it in one sitting.
Regardless, her books had been a life line this winter. A reminder that love was the only thing worth fighting for. The only purpose on earth. Her romances.
Thousands of words and none of them rhymed.
I was running faster now without deciding to.
I learned once that Michelangelo had believed the people he carved into stone were in fact waiting for him to release them from captivity. A good song often felt the same way, as if it had lived in me for some time, ruminating, forming, until it was ready.
By the time I hit the path back up to the property my lungs were burning and the song continued to unfold. I wrote down everything that had come to me, before getting into the shower.
I stood in the shower and let the hot water run over me, with more phrases landing like birds on my shoulder.
But maybe I’m not so sure no more.
Or something …
I made coffee, then grabbed Georgia from her stand by the window and my notebook with blank musical sheets.
I pushed open the screen door to the porch.
The fog had lifted, bringing a soft spring sky and sunshine that filtered over the yard.
I sat on the porch step with my coffee beside me and Georgia across my knees and I started to play.
The chords came without hesitation. My fingers found the progression easily. I worked through verse one, adjusting a word here and there and jotting down the musical language of the song on the music sheet. Two hours later, I had what I thought could be a pretty decent song.
I played the whole thing through twice without stopping, my voice a little hesitant at first, but eventually loosening. I had a decent voice—nothing like Ivy—but good enough for a songwriter.
I didn’t hear Wes come across the garden. I looked up, and he was standing at the garden gate with his coffee mug, silver hair catching the morning light. He’d been listening.
“Working on something new?” Wes asked, sitting down a few steps below me.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I knew it would come eventually.”
“You might have. I wasn’t sure.”
“Play it for me again?” Wes asked.
I did so.
I played the new song for Wes, singing in my mediocre voice. When the last note drifted into the sea air, Wes cleared his throat. “It’s good.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded slowly, looking out toward the bluff rather than at me. “Where did you find this one?”
I looked down at Georgia. “It came to me after something Seraphina said the other night.”
“That right?” Wes took a sip from his coffee. “She writes words without any rhymes?”
“Not every song comes from personal experience, you know.”
“Sure.”
“But yeah,” I said. “There’s something about her. Can’t explain it.”
“That’s how it usually works,” Wes said. “She has a boy, though. Be careful of his heart.”
A twinge of pain tapped my chest. “I know a little bit about a boy’s heart. And about parents who leave. I don’t take it lightly.”
He only nodded, taking another sip of his coffee.
“I’ve been thinking about you and Margaret—all you did for me back then. How you saved me.”
“You would’ve saved yourself.”
“I don’t know about that.” I picked a few notes on Georgia.
“You should send it to Ivy. The song.”
“She’ll be here next week.”
“I think she should hear it before then. Let’s record it for her.”
I nodded. “Okay, yeah. But I have something to go to at four this afternoon, so we better get on it.”
“What’s that?”
“Tyler’s baseball game,” I said, feeling sheepish. “It starts at five. He asked if I’d go.”
“All right then.”
“I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings,” I said.
“Good. The way to a mother’s heart is to love her child.”
I didn’t say anything, only smiled.
“I’ll see you in an hour. We’ll record it for Ivy.”
“Yeah, okay.”
I stayed on the porch as Wes walked across the lawn, head bowed as if he were thinking about something important. Still waters ran deep with my Wes. I could only imagine what he was thinking.
Wes and I managed to get a good recording of my new song, despite my voice. I sent it to Ivy before I could change my mind. When we went upstairs, the aroma of banana bread greeted us. Margaret was in the kitchen wrapping the loaf in a blue tea towel, tied with a piece of kitchen twine.
“I thought you might like to share this with whomever else was at the game,” Margaret said.
“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” I gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. “You’re the best.”
“I’m glad to hear you and Wes down there making magic like the old days.”
“It felt good to me too.”
“Don’t forget to put sunscreen on before the game.” Margaret handed me the loaf. “It’s a beautiful afternoon.”
“Thanks, Margaret. I’ll see you later.”
“Yes, off you go.” She shooed me out of the kitchen with a sweeping motion of her hands.
A few minutes later, I was on my way. The field was near the high school and, the moment I turned off my engine, I heard the crack of an aluminum bat and parents shouting encouragement.
I came around the equipment shed with Margaret’s banana bread tucked under one arm.
The bleachers were fuller than I’d expected, with teenagers and parents.
There were also parents with thermoses and camp chairs along the fence line.
Midway up on the home side I spotted Seraphina.
I was surprised to see that most of her gang was also there.
She wore a Willet High School sweatshirt and a baseball cap over her bright hair and big sunglasses.
I stood at the top of the steps up to the bleachers, hoping to catch someone’s eye before I descended upon them.
Lila saw me first, standing and calling out to me.
Vance was next to her, gesturing to come up.
“Hunter, over here,” Lila shouted.
I started up the bleachers.
Gillian sat next to Lila, holding an infant.
Leo. He’d been born the night of Esme and Grady’s wedding.
I’d have thought it was too soon to come out but Gillian seemed perfectly fine.
Delphine was there too, wearing black slacks and pumps paired with a peach sweater.
She must have come straight from her gallery.
No Esme or Grady, as they were still on their honeymoon, but Robbie and Madison sat with the other kids.
Vance had mentioned they were taking care of them while Esme was away.
The other kids were all there too—Bella, Grace, Annie, Robbie, Margot and Mia.
I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not, but my presence seemed to have sparked conversation.
Robbie had looked up from his book and Mia had stopped sketching on her pad to watch me.
Trevor, Esme’s golden lab, was also there, curled up into a ball at Madison’s feet.
Before heading up to sit with them, I glanced out at the field. Alex was standing with some of the players, including his son Peter and Tyler, giving what looked like a pep talk.
Seraphina turned when I was four steps from the top. She took off her sunglasses to look at me, her eyes full of surprise. “You made it.”
“I’m a little late. Got wrapped up in something,” I said.