Joy and Tiers (48 page)

“Thank you so much, Aidan,” I muse. “This is the nicest thing to happen to me in a really long time.”

“Wow, Gracie,” Aidan replies, “if that’s your bar for the nicest, we need to raise your bar a bit.”

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Tara was raped. I guess I didn’t do a very good job of protecting her like I always promised her I would. Rory’s friends are so much older than me, I don’t know any of them. The whole situation makes me furious. Where was Rory? Why didn’t he step up? Maybe he could have stopped the devastation, if he had just paid attention to her for once.

This clearly has changed her whole life. I expected that Tara would have been the principal dancer in a major company by now, or happily settled into retirement and teaching another generation her infectious love of dance. For her not to dance is a tragedy of epic proportions to the world of the arts. Most people might not consider it much of a loss. For people like me, though, a life without music, art, dancing, or photography would make our souls wither and die. It was during a preschool class trip to see the musical
Oklahoma!
that I learned that music and words could be combined to make a story fascinating. What if some little kid somewhere is missing their moment of inspiration because some scumbag decided to take what wasn’t his?

What kind of sick freak does that to an innocent girl the size of Tara? She may be a buck-oh-five on a rainy day. She is tall for a dancer, but so fine boned, I can circle both her wrists with just my fingers. Her muscles are sleek and toned, but no match for a man intent on assaulting her. I’d like to string up the jerk over a ravine somewhere, and let him swing by his balls. I wonder if he knows that he changed who Tara turned out to be, because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. It makes me sick.

I hate to leave her alone, but I need some distance to get my shit together. Seeing her nearly go into shock, just talking about it, sends daggers into my soul. I hope seeing me isn’t painful for her. I’d be crushed if I made matters worse. Waiting for her coffee to brew, I watch her talk to the little flower girl. If anyone can cheer her up, it’s this little sprite. She is a character for sure. I watch a little more closely. Are they talking about my hair? Seriously? Sometimes, the ability to read lips has its drawbacks. I learn things I’m just better off not knowing. Did she really just call her hair boring? She has clearly no idea how stunning she is. Her hair reminds me of a raven’s wing. Dark, shiny, and ever changing. A man could and should get lost in all that hair. I shake my head in disbelief when I see that she considers herself plain. Tara Grace Windsong is many, many things, but plain is not one of them.

I wait for the little girl to leave before I carefully approach, balancing coffee and plates of food. She jumps a little at my presence, but she recovers quickly. She takes the plate from me and mumbles something about me not needing to go out of my way for her. I reassure her that it was no problem. Yet she calls it the nicest thing anyone has done for her in a while. Really? It’s just a plate of food. It’s not like I helped her move or babysat her cat or anything—either of which I would do for her in a heartbeat. “Wow, Gracie. If that’s your bar for the nicest, we need to raise your bar a bit.”

Tara flushes as she blows on her coffee. “You’re probably right. I don’t get out much these days,” she replies with a wry chuckle.

“So, you go to school. Anything else interesting?” I ask as we eat our snacks.

“Well, I work evenings and weekends at the Shell station,” she answers as she pops a piece of cheese into her mouth.

“Is that safe?” I ask, alarmed.

“Well, yes, I think my coworkers feel much safer with me around, since I’m a black belt in tae kwon do,” Tara responds with a raised eyebrow.

“Point taken,” I reply, blushing. “I’m not usually such a male chauvinist pig, but you are pretty small and Monmouth is right off the highway.”

“So, you’ve been to my charming little town?” Tara asks with a mischievous grin. “If so, you know it’s not really a hotbed of activity after about seven at night.”

“That may be true, but creeps can crop up anywhere,” I warn. “You wouldn’t believe the stuff I see.”

“Aidan, don’t you think I know that better than anybody?” she replies, her voice dropping down to a husky whisper, “But I’ve worked really hard to be better prepared, next time.”

“There’s the Gracie I remember,” I say, as I brush some stray hair from her eyes. “You were always prepared for every contingency.”

“You might want to rethink your nickname for me, AJ. I am not feeling very graceful these days,” Tara states sadly.

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe. I bet you even snore gracefully,” I reply, with a grin.

“Aidan Jarith O’Brien! I’ll have you know that I don’t snore, thank you very much,” she insists, her tone slightly indignant.

I laugh as I answer her, “I’m just wondering how a person figures that out, really. I mean, we all sleep through our own snoring and the people that we date have every motive in the world to spare our feelings. It’s quite possible that we all snore like freight trains, but no one wants to fess up. You never need to worry about that with me. I take my receivers off at night to clean them. I am as deaf as a fence post. You could snore loud enough to remove roof tiles and I wouldn’t even know it.”

“Geez, AJ! Presumptuous much?” she asks, incredulous. “I think I was in the eighth grade the last time I saw you and now you have us sharing a bed. It’s quite a leap, even for you.”

“True,” I reply honestly. “At this point, it’s just wishful thinking. But I can’t deny that I’ve always had a crush on you, Tara Grace.”

Tara starts stabbing the grapes on her plate with a decorative toothpick from an hors d’oeuvre “Umm, I don’t even know what to say to that, except that I’m not the girl you remember,” she states softly.

“Perhaps not. But, I’m not the snot-nosed kid you remember, either. Trust me, the world is a better place because of that. I was pretty obnoxious as a kid,” I retort.

“True enough, I suppose,” Tara says thoughtfully. “I hate to break up this truly surreal reunion, but I’m supposed to go avoid a bouquet, before Mouse collapses from sheer anticipation.”

I help Tara stand up and assist her to balance as she slides her slim foot into impossibly high shoes. When one sticks a bit and I reach down and help her adjust the thin strap around her ankle, I feel like Prince Charming helping his Cinderella. The only difference is that I knew I had found my princess over two decades ago. The hard part is going to be convincing her.

“Donda looks intent on capturing the bartender. I’d better get back to the piano, so she can have a shot at the bouquet,” I tease.

Tara smirks as she quips, “Well, more power to her. She is more than welcome to it. I don’t want it. Not now, not ever.”

I’m surprisingly bummed by Tara’s sarcastic answer. I work lots of weddings and I don’t think I’ve ever wished that I was a close personal friend to the bride or groom more than tonight. I could really use someone to toss a bouquet in Tara’s direction.

I have to smother a grin as I watch the little flower girl weave her way through the guests, arranging them like chess pieces on the dance floor. “Miss Tara! Stop hidin’. I tol’ you; you and Miss Heather are ‘upposed to stand in the front row. Put your listenin’ ears on,” she insists in a loud whisper, tugging on Tara’s dress while Tara is frantically trying to escape the deck.

“I know you’re trying to be nice, Mindy Mouse, but I don’t need to get married. Someone else can catch the bouquet,” Tara explains.

Mindy studies Tara for a couple of moments, tilts her head to the side, and says philosophically, “If you say so Miss Tara. But, sometimes, the stuff that scares us the mostest is ‘xactly what we hafta do.”

“Oh, Mouse, you don’t know what you’re asking,” Tara responds, exhaling shakily.

“Actually, Miss Tara, I kinda do, ‘member?” Mindy interrupts impatiently. “I runned away from home with my baby sister, a yucky man kissed me, then I was in the hop-spital and my family didn’t care enough to come get us.” Mindy shrugs sadly.

Tara hugs the little girl close and re-pins a braid that fell from her elaborate hairdo. “Mindy, as usual, you’re right. I need to put my big girl panties on and get over it,” Tara concedes.

“You’re not wearing any underwears!” Mindy shrieks. “That’s gross, Miss Tara.” The whole dance floor seems to stop to look at Tara and listen to the odd interaction.

At first, Tara is frozen with embarrassment, but then she notices Mindy’s mouth trembling with laughter. She quirks a raised eyebrow at her as she asks, “Has anybody told you that you’re downright diabolical, Mouse?”

“Does that mean I’m funny?” counters Mindy, “’cause it should. I tol’ a really funny joke. I heard some peoples laughin’.”

“No, you silly goose, it means you’re too smart and clever for your own good,” Tara responds, gently tweaking Mindy’s nose.

Mindy nods slowly as she processes what Tara just said. She suddenly grins and exclaims, “Yeah, I am really smart, huh? So you need to listen to me, even if I’m only a kid. So follow me. I’ll even hold your hand if you’re ascared.”

Tara is shaking her head with such vigor, I am surprised she’s not dizzy from arguing with that pint-sized force of nature. “Mouse, are you sure about this? There are lots of women here that want to catch this thing. Shouldn’t I just give them a chance?”

“Miss Tara, didn’t I tell you I just know stuff?” she insists impatiently tugging at Tara’s hand. “Come on, please, we’re gonna be late.”

“Okay, Mindy Mouse, if it’s that important to you, I’ll come,” Tara answers reluctantly, making an effort to smile politely.

Mindy looks over at me and I’m embarrassed to be caught openly gawking at them. Yet, Mindy doesn’t seem to think that there is anything odd about the fact the piano player and alleged professional entertainment for the evening has been rubbernecking the whole conversation like a twenty-car pile up on the interstate.

“Hey Mr. Music Man, can you play a drum roll thingie?” she shouts across the dance floor.

“I’m sure I can come up with something, Princess,” I assure her chuckling. “By the way, my name is Aidan.”

Her eyes grow wide as she gasps, “For reals? Were you ever in a band? Can you play the recorder? What about the flute?” she peppers me with questions at a mile a minute.

I laugh out loud at her rabid curiosity. “Whoa, Mindy a musician can talk forever about their work. How about I give you the short answers for now and we’ll talk more lately? Yes, I’ve played in several bands, but nobody was very famous. I can play the recorder. Although I prefer the alto sax. I’d be happy to show you,” I answer solemnly.

Mindy nails me with a sharp glance as she demands, “Are you sure? No trickin’?”

I shake my head no and hold up my pinky. “Pinky swear,” I offer.

Mindy gives me a lopsided grin and tugs on Tara’s hand to get her attention as she announces. “I am going to call Mr. Aidan, Band-Aidan, because he’s Miss Tara’s friend and he helped saved Mr. Jeff from the bad guy. So he needs an epic nickname.” She runs across the dance floor to give me a hug.

I can see that Tara is fighting to hold back tears. So I turn back to the piano and begin to play
You Are My Sunshine
. “Mindy, after this song is over, I’ll play you a drum roll. Sound like a plan?”

“Roger Dodger!” Mindy exclaims as she drags Tara to the assembled guests and awaiting bride. “Miss Kiera, everybody’s here now. We’re ready!” she announces as she arranges Tara next to the other bridesmaid.

I quickly press the drumroll button I have programmed into my soundboard. I prefer to play the piano, but for times like this, the synthesizer and MP3 player come in handy. I wink at Mindy as she gives me a thumbs up. I watch as Tara swallows hard and looks as if she’s about to face a firing squad. She grabs her friend’s hand. “Heather, aren’t you obligated as my best friend to stop them?” she pleads.

Heather throws her head back and laughs as she replies, “Sorry, Tar. Girlfriend Posse or not, you’re on your own. This baby is mine. I’ve been a bridesmaid way too many times.”