Rock and a Hard Place (10 page)

She wiped away the tears with her sleeve.
Crying wouldn’t help anything. She returned to the remaining mess
on the table searching for any more correspondence, but discovered
nothing. Her heart felt empty and lonely as she sat with two
envelopes and a sad letter. Loneliness settled around her.

The phone vibrated in her back pocket
forcing her thoughts back to the present. Peter. A small smile lit
her face. She reached for the phone and read the text.

Concert’s over, can you talk?

She responded, her fingers still fumbled
over the keys of her new toy.

No, soon. I’ll call you.

She returned the phone to the safety of her
pocket. Before she talked to Peter, there was something she needed
to do.

Libby walked into the living room, ammo in
hand. Things were about to change. Her aunt had some questions to
answer and Libby refused to be bullied anymore. Aunt Marge snored
lightly in her chair. No big surprise there. QVC droned in the
background. How did one wake a sleeping monster?

Libby turned off the TV and flipped on a
light, illuminating the harsh room. Her aunt sputtered.

“
What? Who’s
there?”

Libby waited, patient. Aunt Marge shook off
her sleep and sat up straighter, her eyes narrow slits of
suspicion.

“
What’s your problem now?
Got that kitchen clean?”

“
Why didn’t you tell
me?”

“
Tell you what?”

“
About this?” she held out
the letter, far enough so her aunt could see it, but not take it.
The woman would never touch Libby’s letter again.

Realization washed across her aunt’s face,
her posture tensed for a split second, and then passed. “Oh that.”
She waved her hand at the letter then reached for a pack of
cigarettes.

“
This letter belongs to me.
Why didn’t you give it to me?”

“
I guess I forgot.” She
placed a cigarette in her mouth and lit it.

“
Where is the other letter?
And where is the money he sent?” Libby glared at her, willing to
fight this to the end. Aunt Marge was keeping her from her
Dad.

“
First off, this is my
house, not yours. Anything in it belongs to me and I’ll do what I
want with it.” She took a long drag on the cigarette. “Secondly,
your father owes me far more than the paltry money he adds to his
letters. Fifty dollars once a month doesn’t begin to pay for your
lunches let alone all the other things you need.” She blew the
smoke into the air between them.

“
Once a month! He’s written
every month?” Libby couldn’t believe it. She had missed him so much
and here he’d been writing regularly. “Where are the letters? They
belong to me. I want them. Now!” She stepped closer, her hands on
her hips in a vain attempt to appear threatening.

“
They’re gone. Burned out
back,” she answered unfazed. “You should thank me too. All he did
was drivel on about how sad he is. Trust me, you don’t need his
ramblings. When you got here, you were a shy mousy little thing
afraid of your own shadow. Look at you now! Not only are you
standing up for yourself, you’re shoplifting.” She tipped the ash
of her cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. “You’re growing a
back bone. It’s enough to make your auntie proud, but I can’t be
having you getting caught. That will not do.”

“
I didn’t shoplift,” she
stated through clenched teeth.

“
Yeah, whatever. You stole
the cash, that’s all that matters.”

“
And if I had the money my
dad sent, I would have never lowered myself to that level.” Her
anger so strong, it tasted like a bitter pill.

“
Never say never. You’d be
surprised at how that can come back to haunt you.” Aunt Marge
said.

“
You don’t know anything
about me, so don’t pretend you do. The next time my father writes,
I expect to get the letter. Unopened.” Her fury raged within. God
she hated this woman.

“
You’d better learn to
watch your mouth, or I’ll be doing it for you. Oh, and I wouldn’t
go expecting anything soon. He hasn’t written in a few months. He’s
probably moved on and forgotten you. It’s just you and me now, two
peas in a pod.” A tiny bug crawled across the arm of her chair. She
grabbed a nearby newspaper and squashed it.

Libby wanted to reach out and slap her, but
knew she never could. With lack of a good comeback she turned on
her heel and stomped upstairs. She needed privacy, away from this
horrible woman who seemed to enjoy her pain. Plus Peter waited for
her call. Talking to him would instantly take her mind off her
troubles and her aunt’s betrayal. She slammed her door for
effect.

Chapter 9

After two weeks of late-night whispering and
daily texting, Peter finally met up with Libby at Parfrey’s for a
full day and evening together.

“
I’d sure love to see you
perform,” Libby said as they wandered through the woods, hand in
hand, in no particular direction.

“
You want to come to a
concert?” Peter looked surprised.

“
Of course I do! But that’s
not going to happen. Not unless you’re playing Rockville High
School.”

“
Hmm, that’s a good idea;
then I can call you out in front of everyone and declare my love.”
He pulled her close.

Peter said he loved her. Sort of. Her face
turned a predictable shade of pink. She was speechless.

“
What? I’ve discovered how
to keep you quiet for a change?” Peter grinned enjoying her
embarrassment.

Libby smacked him lightly on the arm, then
rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m not saying a thing.” But
inside she glowed.

“
So the girl wants a
performance. Hmm. I can’t afford to have an unhappy fan. I believe
this calls for an impromptu show.”

He led her to a clearing surrounded by tall
pines. “Miss, here is your front row seat. The concert will begin
in just a moment." Peter walked a good twenty feet away and hid
behind a clump of brush.

“
No peeking. This is back
stage and strictly off limits to general ticket
holders.”

Libby turned her head away and held back a
smile.

“
Ladies and gentleman,” he
roared in a mock announcer’s voice. “I mean, girl in the front row
sitting on the ground.”

Libby threw a pinecone at him.

“
Hey, I haven’t started
yet! You can’t boo until I do something.”

She leaned back on her hands. She couldn’t
wait to see what he did next.

“
Girl in the front row, I
present to you . . . the Jamieson Brothers. Oops. I mean Peter
Jamieson.”

He sauntered out from behind the brush
making faux roaring noises. “The crowd goes wild for Jamieson.
Rrrrrr.” He walked center stage, in front of the brush, and picked
up a stick for a microphone.

“
Jamieson has entered the
building.” He raised his hands toward the sky and let loose another
crowd roar.

“
The two million mega watt
lighting system kicks up. Spotlights search the arena for the star.
Lasers ripple through the air. Fog rises around the stage. The
intro music builds.” Peter motioned dramatically to the trees and
bushes around them as if this were the real deal.

“
The cheers in the arena
are deafening!” He waved his hands in the air again, making another
rrr sound.

Libby laughed. Peter stepped forward onto
his imaginary stage.

“
The star! The legend!
Feast your eyes on the world’s most talented singer, PETER
JAMIESON!” He roared into the open expanse of nature.

“
Girls are fainting at the
mere mention of his name,” he whispered to the side.

Libby watched as Peter paced his mock stage,
setting the scene.

“
First starts the tinkling
of piano keys, the lights pick up the beat.” His fingers played the
imaginary piano and then motioned at pretend lights.

“
Bass guitarist, Garrett,
the pock-faced boy, enters the mix.”

She giggled.

“
Next lead guitarist,
adolescent voyeur Adam, adds his soulful sound. And then . . .”
Peter held the fake microphone like a pro and started to
sing.

Peter’s pure voice rang through the woods.
Libby watched, so overwhelmed by his talent that the words didn’t
register. All she could do was watch his moves, his stance, and
listen to his amazing voice. Libby sat dumbstruck in the pine
needles and leaves.

“
Here’s where the drums
take the beat, ‘ch cha cha, ch cha cha, ch cha cha.’” He played the
imaginary drum. “The guitars come in, tinka ting, tinka ting, and
Peter Jamieson fades to the back, giving his mediocre brothers a
chance to shine.” He rewarded her with a wink.

“
And then, the melody takes
back the night.” He stood atop an old fallen log and sang, his
entire body creating the percussion that went unheard. It
captivated Libby, and transported her to the concert
hall.

“
Then to seal the deal, the
Boy Wonder awes the audience with his world-class flying eagle.”
Peter jumped high into the air above her, reached out and touched
his toes.

Libby’s eyes followed him like an awestruck
fan.

He landed and picked up the song again,
gesturing the percussion and guitar licks as he went.

Peter’s talent far exceeded her wildest
imagination. He was an incredibly gifted performer and she never
understood it until now. Sure he was well known, but it never
affected her. Time and distance was their barrier, nothing else.
She had never witnessed it firsthand. His cute, cocky performance
revealed only a small hint of the talent flowing just beneath the
surface. His voice held power and confidence and moved her to
tears.

“
Hey, I’m ready for the big
finish.” Peter posed, feet set wide apart, his fake mic replaced
with a long walking stick. He gripped the mock mic stand firmly and
leaned to the side, his body kept the beat.

He looked up from his rocker pose. “What’s
wrong?”

Libby covered her mouth with her hand.

Peter rushed over and squatted before her.
“What’s the matter? Was I that bad?”

“
That’s not funny.” She
pushed out at him, as tears welled in her eyes.

“
I’m sorry. Garrett can’t
help playing so bad.”

His joke hit the mark and she laughed, then
took a deep breath. “I didn’t realize.” She shook her head. “That
you’re so good.” She couldn’t help but feel devastated. Her life
was so tiny and unimportant and his was over-the-top huge. Peter
didn’t belong with her. He should be with a famous model or
actress.

He knelt before her and took her hands in
his. “What are you talking about?” He looked deep into her eyes.
“I’m still me. Nothing’s changed. This is just another part of my
life.” He gripped her hands firmly. “Heck, I wasn’t that great, the
band isn’t very good today.” A grin curled his lips and his eyes
sparkled.

She laughed and he delivered another
mega-watt smile. Libby gazed at him, mulling her decision to open
up or not. The honesty and trust in his eyes made her decision.

“
You don’t belong with me.”
It hurt to say it, but she had to tell him the truth.

“
What are you talking
about?” He sat down, one leg on each side of her, creating a warm
cocoon.

“
There’s a lot you don’t
know about me.” What an understatement.

He nodded in acceptance. “Yeah? There’s a
lot you don’t know about me too. That’s why it’s called dating. So
we can spend every possible moment together on the phone or pining
away for each other.”

He knew how to make her feel special. “Stop
joking.” She sobered, ready to open up for the first time.

“
Talk to me,
Lib.”

The honesty on his face nearly broke her
heart. “Peter, I’m not the person you think.” The weight of her
confession grew heavier.

“
I’m listening.” His large
brown eyes focused on her.

“
I think I better say this
all at once, and I’ll tell you when I’m done. Is that
okay?”

“
Lay it on me,” he said
with levity.

Libby took a deep breath and blew it out. “I
don’t live with my Mom.” She watched him for a reaction and only
saw mild confusion. “I live with my aunt. And I’m not from
Wisconsin, I’m from Michigan.”

His gaze became more focused as her words
muddied the waters of what he knew. She took another deep bracing
breath.

“
I have a dad, but I
haven’t seen him in over a year. He’s kind of a mess right now
because he lost his job and then our house.” She checked Peter
again for his reaction; he seemed more confused.

“
But he only lost the house
because of the accident. Actually it was way after the accident,
after we lost my Mom and sister. Did I tell you I had a sister?”
She paused and looked into his eyes. He shook his head, his eyes
wide and body still. Her pain pierced like a stab to the heart.
“Well she died with my Mom in the accident. I guess I never really
told you about that.” She spoke faster to get the toxic words out.
She tugged on her pendant, as Peter listened.

“
Well, there was this car
accident. My dad was driving and this semi pulled out, and the
driver was tired and anyway, he forced us off the road and our car
flipped over and hit the pillars of an overpass.”

She peeked up at his shocked expression. His
eyes flashed dark with emotion.