Chapter Three #2
She clocked the muscles in his forearms again, eyes trailing higher, noting the way his biceps flexed beneath his shirt.
Yesterday she’d remembered him as mischievous and boyish.
But this Julian carried himself with purpose and confidence and experience.
Charlie found herself a little overwhelmed by the desire to simply stare at him and admit that there wasn’t anything boyish about him anymore. She needed to stop looking at him.
“The acoustics in the room are excellent,” he was saying as she forced herself to stop ogling him. “Or so I’ve been told.”
“Well, I’ll let you two talk logistics,” Gram said, making her way to the door.
Charlie had almost forgotten she was there. “And where are you going?” she asked, wanting Gram to hang around if only to be a buffer between her and the unwanted sensations and feelings and memories Julian was awakening.
“To round up more participants. If we’re gonna get a show, then we should really make an afternoon of it.”
“Gram,” Charlie warned. She caught her grandmother’s arm as she passed. “Don’t go making this into something.” She lowered her voice. “This isn’t a performance.”
“Charlie, I’ve never known you to be anything other than a performer, whether it was two people in the crowd or two hundred,” Gram said quietly. She kissed Charlie’s cheek and disappeared.
Julian watched her go. “She really doesn’t take no for an answer, huh?”
“It’s both a blessing and a curse,” Charlie said. “And also how Gram said she ended up married three times.”
Julian laughed.
But as far as performing was concerned, Gram wasn’t exactly wrong.
After years of living room recitals, school performances and community theater productions, Charlie had followed that performance bug straight to Juilliard.
Many Broadway performances and orchestra concerts later, and she was here, in this tiny windowless room.
Wouldn’t Tom get a kick out of seeing her now?
“So,” Julian said. “You all good here?”
No? “Is there some sort of programming I need to stick to, or am I sort of winging it?”
“Just keep the old folks entertained. How you choose to do that is up to you. We’ve got some speakers if you want to connect to Spotify.” Julian passed between her and a chair, putting his hand on her back as he did to stop himself from jostling her.
At the touch, Charlie felt something stir in her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time, and her pulse raced. She moved out of the way, putting some distance between them, stuffing the feeling somewhere to be forgotten.
Julian bent to collect the book on music theory she’d noticed. He dusted it off on his jeans before handing it to her. “You can get technical if you want.” He gestured across the room. “The piano also works if you’d rather tickle the ivories.”
“You’re not gonna break out a box of percussion instruments from the closet?” Charlie said, deadpan. She put the book down on a chair.
“Fresh out of those,” Julian said, lips pursed. “Though I have recently come into some quality sheet music for a certain opera if you’re interested in casting among our residents.”
“I think I’ll start with something a little more manageable.
” Her options weren’t great. Unless she was going to connect to Spotify, which felt rather lazy, she supposed Gram was right.
She would have to sing a little if she meant to actually entertain for the next hour.
“I’ll save the opera for the advanced class. ”
“Too bad,” Julian teased, catching her eye and giving her a dimpled grin. “I was looking forward to hearing that. I think we could really sell this place out. Charge a fortune at the door. Get maintenance to help with props. The admin team can do costumes.”
“Put it on your calendar then,” Charlie said. “The first entirely geriatric production of Gianni Schicchi, coming to a retirement home near you.”
Julian laughed, the sound bouncing between them, and Charlie fought the urge to hear it again.
She didn’t want to laugh with him like she used to.
Like they were lying out on a blanket at the river’s edge and he’d just whispered some terrible joke.
She didn’t want to feel like no time had passed, because years had come and gone, and everything had changed.
“I really do appreciate you taking the time to do this.”
“Do you?” she said, skeptical.
“Of course. I realize Doris sort of put you up to it.”
Charlie crossed her arms. Standing in this room, with a piano to their left, it felt like they were supposed to break into some sort of awkward duet. “It’s not like you politely declined her offer.”
“Is that what you were expecting?”
“I did say I was busy dealing with Gram’s house.”
“She didn’t seem that concerned about it.”
A surge of irritation flickered at the base of Charlie’s spine. God, she was going to call Alicia just to tell her how annoying he was.
“And she did seem to think you could make time for an old…friend.”
“I’m not exactly sure that’s what I would call us,” Charlie said.
“No?”
“You tend to remember your friends, don’t you?”
Silence stretched between them. Thick, uncomfortable silence.
Charlie was going to choke on it. She had half a mind to bail on this whole volunteer gig.
The only thing holding her to her promise was the fact that Gram had already started rounding up other residents to attend, and she didn’t want to embarrass her. Or disappoint her.
“I should see if the piano is in tune,” she murmured.
“Right.” Julian stepped aside, but before she could reach the piano he said, “Ah, here we go!” Charlie turned as he waved a group of peppery-haired residents into the room.
“Welcome, welcome! Everyone please take a seat. I am so excited to formally introduce you to our newest music director, Charlie…” He hesitated.
“Ward,” she supplied with a frown. Honestly! Had he forgotten that, too?
“Just making sure it hadn’t changed in the last eight years,” he said under his breath.
What? Did he think she was married? Almost as if he’d read her mind, his eyes flicked down to her left hand, then back up.
“Charlie Ward,” he continued. “I’m sure some of you have already met Doris. Charlie is Doris’s granddaughter, and she has graciously offered to volunteer her time with us today.”
Charlie didn’t know about graciously, but she plastered a smile on her face anyway. It was a beaming smile, all teeth—the kind that used to light up stages. The show must go on.
But how could it? The fact that she was even considering performing made her smile fall away. The last time she did this was with Tom and the Austin Symphony Orchestra. That was close to three years ago now. Her stomach soured at the thought.
There was solitary whoop that might have come from Gram and a general murmur of interest as the residents found their seats.
Julian turned to her. “Well, that’s it for me. You’re on.”
“Wait!” She grabbed his hand, her pulse kicking up in her throat as his fingers twisted around hers briefly.
It felt…good. How tightly he held her. And that was all wrong.
She shook her head, eyebrows converging in the center of her forehead.
Because with the good came the bad. She didn’t get one without the other. “I don’t… I’m not sure I can do this.”
He chuckled. “Stage fright?”
Charlie opened her mouth to say something, but her heart was beating so uncomfortably fast she thought she might be sick, so she snapped it closed.
She couldn’t perform for these people. Not the way Gram wanted.
Not without Tom. It wouldn’t be right. Guilt tightened like a vice around her rib cage, and she struggled for her next breath.
“Hey,” Julian said, placing both hands on her shoulders. He rubbed them up and down, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. “Are you okay?”
“I—” She couldn’t find the words to explain about losing Tom or about not performing since he’d passed.
She’d hardly done much singing at all, avoiding the business, turning down jobs.
She’d taught a bit of piano here and there to make ends meet, but it wasn’t the same.
This felt like she was about to stomp on Tom’s memory.
How did she wrap all that up into words that would make sense to Julian?
His thumbs turned circles against her arms, and Charlie felt heat creep up her neck.
It was like reliving her youth, hands sliding over her, her body reacting to the touch.
She wanted to lean into the comfort. No, no, no!
She needed to lock the feelings back up in that box, bolt it closed and toss it into the deepest part of the ocean.
“No one here has any big expectations of you,” Julian said, leaning close enough that he could look her in the eye. His whispered words caressed her cheek. “You know what I was thinking about?”
“What?” Her gaze followed his as he dropped his hands.
“The way you used to talk to people. Anyone. Everyone. You could start up a conversation with a stranger at the store or someone walking past your grandmother’s house while we sat on the porch.”
“You remember that?”
He nodded. “You have a way of engaging with people. Of making them feel comfortable and welcomed into any space. I always marveled at how you did that. And I figured you couldn’t possibly have a shy bone in your body.”
Listening to him talk made her breath catch, the fondness threatening to give her whiplash.
One second he acted like he barely knew her, like he wished he didn’t know her, and the next he was recounting details of that summer.
She didn’t understand him. Confusion bled through her, quickly replaced by frustration which ate away at her panic, burning it from her veins.
“Look, if you really don’t think you—”
“No,” Charlie said, stepping away. “It’s fine.”
“You’re sure?”
She looked at him, trying to peer past his concerned exterior to figure out which Julian Guerrero stood before her: the boy who’d always made her feel seen or the man who seemed to prefer to forget her. She couldn’t tell, so she gritted her teeth and nodded. “I’m sure.”
“You’re gonna do great,” Julian said, backing away. “I’ve gotta go track down a bus driver. But if you have any issues, you know where my office is.”
“Sure.” He had a job to do, and so did she. Because she’d agreed to this.
Charlie turned to face the roomful of elderly residents.
Well, roomful might be too optimistic. There were about eleven of them, one of which included her grandmother.
In truth, the population wasn’t that different from the crowds that used to turn up at the concerts she and Tom performed.
When you sang a lot of arias and classics from the Golden Age of theater, most of the audience tended to be over sixty-five.
She took a deep, steadying breath. Focus. The voice was like a muscle. All she had to do was get those first notes out, and then time and hours of practice would hopefully take over and do the rest.
“Well,” Charlie said, addressing her little crowd as she tried to ignore the way her hands were shaking.
“I guess it’s just us today. I am very happy to be here with you.
Unfortunately, I came upon this role somewhat unexpectedly.
” She glanced at Gram across the room, raising a brow, earning herself a few chuckles.
“So I don’t have anything grand planned for our first class together.
Instead, I thought I might sing a little for you. ”
Charlie crossed to the piano and hit middle C. Her entire body reacted to the note that rang out. It felt a little like crawling out of her skin. “That’s very out of tune,” she said, and the group laughed again. “A capella it is.”
She grabbed the old mic stand and dragged it back to the center of the room just to give her hands something familiar to hold, something to ground her.
“Okay,” she said, easing herself into performance mode. “This first number is one some of you might recognize. It’s from a little musical that came on the scene in 1964. My Fair Lady.”
There were smiles of appreciation and laughter as she glanced at the group.
“Kidding. It’s not that little. I’m sure most of us have seen this show. If not onstage, then perhaps the movie with the ever-charming Audrey Hepburn as Eliza Doolittle.”
“Charlie and her brother spent a good many summers twirling around my living room to that movie,” Gram said to the group.
“We certainly did,” Charlie said quietly, anxiously, feeling like she might be sick. The show must go on. “Ladies and gentlemen.” She forced a smile, the words almost catching in her throat. “This is ‘I Could Have Danced All Night.’”