A Song for Julia (45 page)
She pulled back from the kiss. “Can you put up with me? I’m crazy half the time. You know I’ll pull away and get angry when things are tough.”
“I’ll chance it.”
“Why?” She looked in my eyes as she asked the question. “Why would you risk that? Why would you risk me hurting you?”
I put my hands on either side of her face. “Because you make me better. You make me—you make me feel like I matter. Like my life matters. I feel like, with you, I can do anything in the world. That
we
can do anything in the world. And we will.”
“We will,” she said. “I promise that.”
And so, we sat there in that chapel for a long time, holding each other, listening to each other breathe.
And then I got a crazy idea.
“Come here a second,” I said. I stood and led her over to the electric piano.
“Sit down,” I said. We both sat down at the bench, and I said, “Do you remember when I said I wanted to make music with you?”
Her eyes watered, and she nodded. I took my messy notes out of my front pocket and unfolded them. “I’ve been working on this for a few weeks, but I couldn’t get it right. Help me?”
She smiled a crazy, happy smile, and nodded.
So I put the notes on the music stand. “Your part,” I said, pointing.
Then she saw the title of the song.
A Song for Julia
. And she started to silently cry.
I started to play. She listened, nodding, then on the second measure, joined in. She was studying the notes I’d scribbled on the paper and kept up with me. It was perfect, every note in place.
And then I started to sing. It was a duet, and I sang of my longing, of her refusal, and of my precious hope that if I let her go, if I kissed her goodbye and watched her go, that she’d eventually come home.
I could feel her beside me, her eyes wide, shining bright, even as tears rolled down her face. We were in sync, and when she joined in the song, her voice scratchy and tired, we still sang it with perfect, beautiful harmony.
Finally, the song ended. And she said the words again. The words I’d waited for her to say, the words that scared her so much she’d run away from me.
“I love you, Crank.”
I whispered back, “I love you, Julia.”
She leaned against me, and I put my arms around her, and she closed her eyes.
“I’m so sleepy,” she said. “And I can’t seem to stop crying.”
I just smiled, then reached out and lifted her up and carried her over to the pew.
So we sat and waited. I knew I had Julia in my arms, and that she loved me, and that somehow, with us, everything was going to be okay. I thought of Dad, a few rooms away, fighting for his life. Julia and I would wait it out together. It would be enough.
Julia fell asleep, leaning against me. I shifted positions, cradling her in my arms, and I watched her face, the lines smooth, and her sleep peaceful.
Not long after that, my mother found us. She looked in and saw us there, quiet in the chapel, and put her hands, clasped together, to her chest. There were tears of hope in her eyes.
“The doctors called. Jack’s waking up.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Epilogue (Julia)
“You’ve got everything you need?” Margot asked. “Toothbrushes. Razors?” We were standing at the entrance to the security lineup at Logan Airport.
“Yes, Mom,” he said. “We’re all set. And if I didn’t, Julia would have three backup copies of everything anyway.”
I grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. “Knock it off, Crank.”
He looked back at me, eyebrows raised. “You know it’s true, babe.”
“Call me babe again, and you’ll find yourself walking to Las Vegas.”
Jack laughed. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.” Then he put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. Jack looked good. He’d had a tough road recovering from the heart attack. He was lucky to be alive at all, but when he’d collapsed during the run, they’d quickly gotten him medical attention. Now, he looked almost back to normal, though the Boston Police had given him an early retirement. He spent his days puttering around the house, running Sean back and forth to school, and making Margot’s life difficult. And I could tell he loved every minute of it. Surviving the heart attack, getting his wife back: he was like a man reborn, always grinning, eyes bright. He and Margot had been talking about taking a tour of Europe that summer during the month Sean would be on tour with us.
I smiled back at him. “You’re family, you know that?”
We embraced. “Always. Whatever happens in life, you’ve always got a home with us, you hear?”
My eyes pricked with tears. Home was a good word. “Love you, Jack.”
“All right. No tears. You start crying, next thing you know, I will. And no one’s allowed to see an old man cry, you hear?”
I winked at him. “I may not see it, but I know.”
“Smartass,” he grumbled.
We parted, and I clasped hands with Margot. I leaned close and whispered, “Thank you. For everything.”
Finally, Sean. He looked a little awkward, as always. His eyes slid off me as he said, “Have a good flight. Make sure you don’t use your computer until you get to altitude. Electronics interfere with the instruments.”
I smiled and pulled him into a hug. He was stiff, but after a second he gradually put his arms around me. “I’ll miss you,” I said. “You’ve been a good friend.”
“I’ll miss you,” he said, pulling away. His eyes drifted off to the security gate. “I’ve got the tour schedule. I’ll join you at the eighteenth city.”
I nodded. “We’ll see you in August. And Sean?”
“Yes, Julia?”
“Take care of your mom and dad, okay?”
He nodded, his face expressionless, eyes drifting off to the side. “I will.”
Crank hugged his mom and dad. “Don’t get in too much trouble with the ladies, Sean.”
Sean, as always, took the suggestion literally. He responded, “I most likely won’t.”
I took a breath, looked at Crank and then my watch. “We’ve got to go, we’re going to miss our flight if we don’t hurry.”
“All right.”
I reached out, and we laced our fingers together, and walked away from our family, getting into the security line.
We had a three-month tour ahead of us, opening for Allen Roark. I’d graduated three weeks before, said my final goodbyes to Adriana and Linden, and a much more tearful one with Jemi, who promised to keep in touch. She was going home to Sierra Leone, but said she’d be back. At the end of the summer, we were planning to stop off in San Francisco, to spend three days with my sisters … and my parents … before driving back east with Sean and Carrie. Thirty-six cities in three months. Ironically, that was far more travel than I’d ever done with my parents.
But I was okay with it. My home would be traveling with me.
“You ready for this?” I asked.
He winked at me and gave me that sideways smile that always made my knees want to melt into the ground.
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
THE END
Thank you
Thank you for taking the time to read
A Song for Julia.
This book is part of a group of planned novels focusing on the Thompson sisters, the first being
Just Remember to Breathe.
They can be read in any order.
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Playlist
Down with the Sickness,
Disturbed
Beer Goggles,
Smash Mouth
Carol of the Bells,
George Winston
Closer,
Nine Inch Nails
Come as You Are,
Nirvana
Concerto No. 20 in D Minor for Piano and Orchestra,
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Creep,
Radiohead
Fade Away,
Automatic Loveletter
垃圾場
(
二版
) Garbage Dump
, He Yong
Heaven’s a Lie,
Lacuna Coil
(Ghost) Riders in the Sky,
The Outlaws
The Kids Aren’t Allright,
The Offspring
Living Dead Girl,
Rob Zombie
Man in the Box,
Alice in Chains
My Girlfriend’s Dead,
The Vandals
Wicked Game,
Chris Isaak
Books by Charles Sheehan-Miles
Fiction
Just Remember to Breathe
Republic
Insurgent
Prayer at Rumayla: A Novel of the Gulf War
Non-fiction
Saving the World on $30 A Day: An Activists Guide to Starting, Organizing and Running a Non-Profit Organization
Copyright
Books by Charles Sheehan-Miles
Charles Sheehan-Miles
Published by Cincinnatus Press
Copyright 2013 Charles Sheehan-Miles.
v120112
Cover Design by Okay Creations
Edited by Lori Sabin
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-?sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is unintentional, with the exception of certain named historical characters.
Cincinnatus Press
Bethesda, Maryland
CONTENTS