15
Annie
“Do we have any requests?” I ask mid-way through Starry Nights. This is my last time leading the campfire singing before I leave next week. I’m feeling torn about leaving. Kayaking with Brandon and Pepper today was so much fun; if I’m honest, it’s the most fun I’ve had all summer.
We laughed so much! Brandon might be a bit uptight and serious, but for all that, the man has a great sense of humor.
The two of us joke around a lot when we’re together.
Jack and I don’t have the same kind of fun.
Can I really love a man I don’t laugh with?
Last week I was ready to leave immediately, but now I’m not sure how I feel about spending three months alone with him on a sailboat.
“I have one!” It’s Pepper’s assured, sweet voice. I look up in surprise. She and Brandon must have just arrived. Brandon’s wearing his blue flannel. Pepper’s French braids are looser than Brandon’s usual tidy work, which makes me think she braided them herself.
“What would you like to sing?” I ask Pepper.
“‘We Are the Champions.’”
“Ah yes! That’s a favorite.” We all sang that song together the day we saved Lady Whimple from being cut down.
Brandon was a bona fide hero that day. He climbed up that tree and threatened to call his lawyer.
He was wonderful—absolutely wonderful. I knew he was saving the tree for Pepper, but there was a part of me that whispered it was also for me.
And I wanted it to be. That was the moment I started hoping there was some ground for all of J.J.
’s teasing about Brandon having a thing for me.
Just thinking of that day tinges my voice with sadness.
No one seems to notice, and everyone sings along with gusto.
There’s something magical that happens when you sing with strangers, even if the singing isn’t very good.
There’s this moment of oneness, when you feel a part of something bigger than yourself. It eases my sadness.
I can’t help but look over at Brandon. He holds my eye and gives me a tentative smile.
“How about ‘You Fill Up My Senses’ by John Denver?” asks a camper with white hair.
“I don’t know how to play that one,” I lie. Of course I know that song—I love it, but I can’t sing it right now—not in front of Brandon—or Jack for that matter.
“Daddy knows it,” Pepper pipes up. “And he can play the guitar.”
“Will you please play it?” The gentleman who requested the song turns to Brandon.
“It was our wedding song forty-eight years ago today.” He puts his arm around his wife sitting next to him.
I wonder what they looked like when they were young and beautiful.
I doubt they could look any more in love than they do right now.
Old people who are still in love are my catnip. That’s romance.
“Okay,” Brandon says, his face neutral.
“Okay?” I ask in surprise. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah, why not?” He stands up and walks over to me. I hand him my guitar—for this song of all songs . . .
“He plays guitar?” asks Jack.
“I guess so.”
“Is he any good?”
“I have no idea.”
I can’t explain it, but I’m a little nervous.
I don’t want Brandon to embarrass himself.
As he plays the first chord, I hold my breath.
But the more he plays, the more I relax.
Pepper wasn’t kidding when she said he could play guitar.
I already knew Brandon was a decent singer, but when he begins to sing in his strong familiar voice, I feel a little thrill.
“You fill up my senses . . .” His eyes rest on me.
“Like a night in the forest . . .” The fire pops and a shower of sparks swirl into the night air.
The camper who requested this song called it by the wrong name. The song’s title is actually “Annie’s Song,” and I know it by heart. Brandon’s voice has the faintest rasp, like the sound of waves pulling pebbles on a rocky beach.
“Like a sleepy blue ocean . . .” His eyes meet mine across the fire, and I cannot look away.
What is happening here? Why, when I have finally made up my mind and can see my way clearly, does he have to come here and start singing and looking at me for all the world like a man wholly devoted to my very messy soul? I must be imagining it all.
Meanwhile I have Jack, objectively my perfect match, sitting next to me. He showed up this evening just in time for campfire with the good news that everything is set for us to set sail Monday morning. I take Jack’s hand, reminding myself of his presence.
It doesn’t help. Brandon’s performance isn’t as polished as Jack’s last week, but it’s so full of raw emotion, I am completely entranced.
When he sings, “Let me always be with you,” I feel like he’s singing right to my heart.
This coming from the man who said he would never date me—and why is he looking at me like that?
I’m so confused.
He finishes to a huge round of applause. People ask him to play more, but he politely says, “Sorry, that’s all I’ve got. Thank you.” He hands his guitar to another guest who wants to play, then returns to his seat next to an enthusiastic Pepper. “That was amazing, Dad!”
A middle-aged woman plays “Fast Car.” She’s actually pretty good.
Brandon stares at the fire and occasionally glances at Pepper, but he never looks my way.
He has to know I’m watching him. He’s purposely avoiding eye contact.
And I’m having none of it. He can’t just sing to me like that and not even look my way. I’m so tired of his mixed signals.
“Just a minute,” I say to Jack. I slip my hand out from under his, realizing I’ve been giving some mixed signals myself. “There’s something I need to do.”
I don’t really wait for Jack’s reply. I edge around the perimeter of the campfire to where Brandon is sitting on a log next to Pepper. I tap him on the shoulder.
He has an apprehensive look upon seeing me, like a kid being called to the principal’s office. “Annie?” He keeps his voice low to not interrupt the performance.
“We need to talk!” I whisper urgently.
“Okay?” He gets up and follows me around the corner and down the path a little way from the light and singing of the campfire.
When we are finally alone, I can’t wait any longer, “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Oh! You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. You can’t just sing to me like that . . . while I’m with Jack!”
“Like what Annie?” His voice is so harsh. I swallow what I meant to say, Like . . . you’re in love with me. He runs a hand through his hair. “Are you seriously dating that guy? What could you possibly see in him?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . maybe that he’s smart and handsome. He loves poetry and books, and he’s not afraid to say that he loves me.”
“Jack loves you?” Brandon gives a mirthless laugh.
“Yes! He tells me he loves me every single day.”
“And you believe him?” His words hit like a slap.
“Why are you doing this?” I gulp back a sob. “Are you trying to make me miserable?” I can’t believe that Brandon is being this harsh.
“What? No . . . I . . .” Brandon’s eyes dart away. Something behind me has caught his attention. He stalks off.
“Wait! You can’t just walk away!” I spin around, and .
. . I’m not sure what I’m seeing. Brandon marches toward Jack and .
. . Pepper? The two are in the side alley by the cafe arguing or fighting over something.
It’s hard to tell what’s happening, because Brandon is moving fast toward them and partially blocking my view.
“Keep your hands off my daughter!” Brandon bellows before he punches Jack squarely in the face.