Dancing on a Moonbeam (Bedford Falls Book 1) (39 page)

She needed Max.

She walked through the border between hers and the Reynolds' house to Max's back door.

Pausing there, she stared at it, remembering what Luna had said about loving Max. Did she?

She was scared to. What if she wasn't good enough?

She should go away.

Instead, she lifted her fist and knocked.

He opened the door, searching her face. Then he pulled her into his arms, just like he had yesterday.

It didn't rush over her. It didn't overwhelm. The feeling was warm and comforting and just
there
.
 

Oh hell—Luna was right. Everyone was right.

Her eyes pricked with tears, and she shook her head. He was brilliant. He composed music that
affected
people. What was she?

His hand smoothed down her hair, and she felt him kiss the top of her head. Still holding her, he brought her inside. "Is Lily home yet?"

"Yes." A tear escaped, and then another. "She gave me a story, and you're right. She's really good. Only the story broke my heart, because it was about her and how no one saw her. Want to read it?"

"Do you think she'd mind?" he asked, taking the envelope hesitantly and drawing her into the living room.

Eleanor shook her head, settling onto the couch next to him. "Anyone who writes like this deserves to be read."

Nodding, Max began reading the story. His face showed a myriad of emotions. But the most startling was when his forehead furrowed and he exclaimed, "An ogre!"

"It's a good character," she said.

He snorted, disgruntled for some reason. Then he handed her back the envelope. "This was excellent. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know yet." She frowned. "I'll figure it out."

"I know." He kissed her again, wiping her tears with his thumbs. "Did you already show Anya your dance?"

Tears filled her eyes again.

"Oh shit." He sat up, holding a hand out. "Don't cry. Forget I asked that. Want me to prance around in the tutu?"

Laughing a little, she wiped her tears and told him about how she bombed. He listened to her without interrupting, his intent focus solely on her. She told him how Anya had given her a second chance but that she was afraid she'd just fail again.

When she finished, he didn't offer a solution or advice. He simply said, "What do you need?"

Him
.

The certainty of that one word made tears rush back into her eyes. She waited for the terror to rise up her gorge again, but she just felt sad because he was going back to Los Angeles any day. "I don't know," she whispered.
 

"I do." He took her hand and led her into the room where the piano was. Sitting her next to him at the bench, he began to play the wonderful music he'd named after her.

He met her gaze as his fingers flew over the keys. "The sweetness and sadness, the passion and compassion. The longing. The flowing rhythm is a reflection of your grace. The strength. This is how I see you, Eleanor."

She couldn't look away from him. She listened to the music again, tears running down her cheeks, wanting to deny that anything so beautiful could be a reflection of her.

"Remember when I said I wasn't sure I could finish the movie score, and you said you believed I could, because you had faith in me and my talent?" He stopped playing and cradled her face in his hand. "I have the same faith in you. You can do this."

She shook her head and opened her mouth to—

Max kissed her, softly but surely. By the time he let her go, she was too kiss-dazed to do anything but ask for more.

Chapter 16

His mom called as Max was sitting on the bench at the back of Liam's property. Max knew why too: she wanted the down-low on Eleanor.
 

This was one time he wished he'd been proactive and called her like his dad had suggested. Biting the bullet, he answered the phone. "I was going to call you," he said.

"Breathe, Amadeus," she said in her usual calm voice. "I'm not calling to interrogate you."

"You aren't?" he asked suspiciously.

"No."

He waited a moment and then had to ask. "Why are you calling then?"

"Because I wanted you to know that I love you, and that I'll love any woman you love."

Just like that, his mom slayed him. He shook his head. "You haven't met Eleanor."

"I don't have to meet her to know she's special, my love. Your father played me the beginning of your symphony." His mother's voice softened even more than usual. "It's the truest music you've ever composed. Absolutely beautiful and full of heart. And it's inspired by Eleanor, so how could I not love her too?"

He exhaled deeply. "I don't know that she's going to want me, Mom."

"Play your heart for her, my love. She'll hear you."

"Okay," he said, not so sure.

"Trust me, Amadeus. And trust yourself. You'll know what to do."

He didn't feel like it. He tucked his phone back in his pocket and picked up the book next to him, looking at the cover. He wasn't sure he had enough attention span to read even a children's book.

A familiar rustling sounded in the bushes behind him. He glanced over right as Lily popped out of the bushes and stomped over to join him.

She looked at the book in his hands and raised her brows. "That might be a little above your reading level."

He couldn't help grinning, holding up
Where the Wild Things Are
. "It's scintillating. I like ogres."

Flushing, she made a face. "Mom showed you the story?"

"She was proud of your writing and wanted to share it." He pretended to scowl at her. "Not that I appreciate you writing me into a story without telling me."

The teenager ducked her head, but there was a smile on the edges of her mouth. "All the characters portrayed were fictional and not based on reality," she said.

"You're funny, kid." He laughed, nudging her with his shoulder. "Funny looking, that is."

She made a face at him. Then she picked up the book. "Want me to read this to you?"

"Sure." He folded his arms behind his head. "Let's have story time."

Lily began to read, falling into the story. She even did different voices for different parts, making it come alive.

But it was when she read "'Oh please don't go—we'll eat you up—we love you so'" and glanced at him that it hit him.

The decision was so simple. He couldn't go back to LA. His place was here, with Eleanor and her daughter. He'd find a way to create the movie scores out here. It wouldn't be difficult to construct or rent a sound studio, or he'd focus on composing and selling his own music.

Whatever—he'd figure it out.

"I'm done," Lily said, closing the book.

"Not as great as a certain story that starred a magnificent ogre," Max said, his brow arched, "but not too bad."

She held the book up. "This story is a classic."

"
You
can write classics."

The kid froze, shock widening her eyes. Looking away, she bit her lip. "You think so?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't." He just hoped he could convince her mom to let him stick around to see it.

There was more rustling from the bushes. Lily yelped and squeezed closer to him, gripping his arm. "What is that?"

Jack Westwood appeared through the brush.

Max grinned at the girl. "It looks like the wild, North American grandfather."

"Ha ha," she said, not sounding amused as she let him go.
 

Jack stopped on the edge of the clearing, looking unsure of himself.

"Nice to see you, Jack," Max said cordially. When Lily didn't say anything, he nudged her.

She glared at him. "What?"

"Say hello to your grandfather." When she didn't say anything, he rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you aren't up for small talk, then ask him for a writing date."

Lily looked horrified. "What are you
saying
? He's standing right there."

"And I can hear," Jack said wryly, coming closer. He studied his granddaughter. "I hear you're a good writer."

She shrugged, her head bowed.

The older man cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "It should be your decision, but if you want, I'd like to have a writing date."

She glanced at him suspiciously. "Are you just saying that?"

"Do you think I'd do that?" He raised a brow.

Max shook his head. "You two are so alike you could be bookends. I feel this is the start of a beautiful relationship." He stood up. "I guess I'll leave you to bond."

Jack frowned at him. "You can't leave."

"She won't bite."

Lily kicked his leg.

"Hey." Max moved out of her way.
 

"I meant that I was here to help with Eleanor's studio," Jack said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "If you still need help."

"I need it." Max stuck his hand out. When Jack took it, it was more than just an agreement—it was an acceptance. Max exhaled. Now all he had to do was convince Eleanor that he was worth the risk.
 

But first, he had a studio to finish. "Good thing you came to help, Jack. This kid here is a slacker."

"Whatever." Lily stood up, hands on her hips. "Are we doing this or what?"

"We're doing it." Max smiled and led the way.

Chapter 17

She had no clue what she was doing.

Eleanor sat at the kitchen table, wincing as she dipped her poor feet into a bucket of ice water. They
hurt
. She'd forgotten how badly feet could hurt. She felt hobbled.
 

They probably hurt worse because she felt like she'd lost. She wasn't losing—she was done. There was no hope. She couldn't come up with any good moves.

A laugh made her look out the window. She blinked when she saw Lily smiling at something Max said as he handed her a bucket of paint. They disappeared around the back, carrying their supplies.
 

But what struck her was the person who walked out from inside the former carriage house, rolling up his sleeves.

"What the hell," she muttered, slipping her ballet slippers back on and easing herself to her sore feet. She limped out the back door. "Dad?"

He turned around. "Hello, Eleanor," he said as though he was the one surprised to see her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, confused.
 

"I've come to help Max." He pointed to the shed.

She looked at the studio and then back at her dad. She shook her head. "It's not going to make any difference. It's too late."

His expression fell, all the hope draining from him. But then he lifted his head and said, "It's never too late, honey. I know that you've given up on me, and you have every right to. But I can still try."

That was the second time he'd called her
honey
. She wanted to get angry, but she just felt like she wanted to cry. Instead she went back inside.

As she stepped through the door, her phone buzzed with a message. It was from Charles. Of course—his timing was perfect.