Jane's Melody Read online

  “Actually,” she said, “I’m here to pick up my credit card. I left without it the other night.”

  He nodded and turned to the register, flipping through several abandoned cards tucked inside a beer glass and wrapped in their matching receipts.

  “You don’t look like a Robert or a Daniel, so I’m guessing you must be Jane.”

  “That’s me.”

  He slid her card across the bar to her, along with a charge slip and a pen. She looked at the total and shook her head.

  “I can’t believe I ordered this many shots.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. “Happens all the time.”

  “Not to me it doesn’t.”

  She added in a large tip and handed him back the signed slip. He looked her over for a second as if he recognized her.

  “Hey, you were here Friday night with Caleb,” he said.

  Jane felt herself blush.

  “I’m sorry if I made a fool of myself. I never really—”

  He held up his hand to cut her short.

  “Happens to the best of us.” Then he leaned in closer and asked: “Do you know how to get a message to him?”

  “Caleb? Sure. Actually, I’ll see him when I get home.”

  “Could you tell him he needs to call Jeremy, or at least send him an email, and let him know if he’s going to take that gig in Austin? He can’t hold it open forever.”

  Had she heard him right? Was he talking about her Caleb? When she spoke it was all a stutter.

  “You mean, Caleb?—Austin?—really?—a gig?”

  “Yeah, he’ll know what I mean. He told me the other night to tell Jeremy he’d get back to him, but Jeremy hasn’t heard anything yet, and they won’t wait much longer.”

  “Okay, sure,” she said. “I’ll deliver him the message.”

  “Thanks,” he replied. “And we really need to get that kid a damn cell phone. He’s living in the past.”

  Jane stood for a moment, leaning against the bar. She felt dizzy, almost drunk. The bartender grinned at her and turned back to his box of bottles and started restocking the shelves.

  As Jane turned to go, the drunkard said:

  “You know where peanuts fill up their cars?”

  She walked past him toward the door.

  “The shell station,” he called after her.

  His laughter followed her into the street.

  Somehow the day had turned on her while she had been inside, and the sun that had felt so good now glared at her from an unforgiving sky. Everywhere around her people were still enjoying themselves, and she felt as if she were an actor in a tragic play who had walked onto the wrong set.

  She drove by instinct to the ferry terminal and waited for the next boat in a trance. She had always known deep down that this would happen eventually, but she had been hoping it would be much later on down the road. She scolded herself for being so foolish. For having fallen for someone so young. He had his whole life ahead of him yet, and his future would take him down roads where she could never follow.

  But she couldn’t blame him either.

  Who could blame anyone for something that just was?

  She was sure he believed everything he had said to her. But how could he know? He didn’t have the life experience to back up the words. He was such an old soul, such a kind heart, that it had been easy to forget that he wasn’t even twenty-five yet. No, she thought, if there was any blame at all, it was all hers.

  Once the ferry was underway, she pulled out her phone and scrolled to Grace’s number. She had her finger on the call button, but she thought better of it and tossed the phone back in her purse. It seemed like she was always calling Grace with a problem, and it made her feel like a loser. She could deal with this on her own. She was a big girl now.

  She had planned to head straight home, but as she pulled off the ferry she noticed a bumper sticker for Ivar’s Fish Bar on the Subaru ahead of her that read: KEEP CLAM AND CARRY ON, a cute play on an old saying. She thought it was good advice in any situation, so she decided to keep her appointment. And she was glad she did, because her client was already waiting for her at Jumping Java, the island coffee shop.

  She was a sweet woman who had been unemployed since being laid off from their local bank and her COBRA was more than she could afford. Jane felt for her, and she was glad to have a distraction, so she did her best to forget about Caleb as she got out her laptop and plugged the woman’s information into her policy screen.

  “Are you okay?” the woman asked her.

  Jane realized she was staring out the window.

  “Sorry. Yes. I’m fine. It should just be another minute. These remote office connections aren’t always the best.”

  “Is it hard to get into?” the woman asked. “I mean, selling insurance like this?”

  Jane shook her head.

  “Not really. You have to take some courses to sell accident and health, and then you need to renew your ethics training every other year. I’m licensed to sell life insurance also, but you have to get your Series 6 for that. Why do you ask?”

  The woman rolled her eyes.

  “The market out there is terrible. I was thinking about real estate, but it seems like everyone I know has a license. Even my hairdresser sells on the side. And they’re all so cutthroat, too.”

  Jane knew it could be tough re-entering the job market, especially for mature workers. She’d sat across from too many people who had lost their company health policies along with their jobs. It reminded her to be grateful for what she had.

  “I think you should look into it,” Jane said. “There are several good companies out there. I’m not sure if mine has any open territories, but I can give you their recruitment number.”

  “You sure you wouldn’t mind? I know the last thing you probably need is to encourage more competition for yourself.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t mind. This isn’t real estate.”

  After her appointment, Jane passed by her house and kept driving. She drove halfway around the island and then down to Fort Ward Park. She parked her car and got out and walked along the beach. The sound of waves lapping at the shore had always calmed her, as did scanning the sand for little treasures. She found a tiny pink shell, a piece of green glass. She sat on a shoreline bench and stared off into the blue horizon for a long time. She remembered sitting on this very bench and watching Melody turn over stones and carry back small crabs to show to her. Melody had always been a fearless little girl.

  Eventually the water darkened, and the sky caught fire—a glorious sunset reflecting to her across the waves. How could something so beautiful exist on such a day? A seagull landed nearby, cocked its head, and looked at her, as if it might have something to say. But if it did have any message for her, it soon carried it off unspoken into the sunset.

  She wondered if she really loved Caleb, or if he had only been a distraction of sorts—a way to take her mind off her daughter’s death. She’d read about people avoiding certain kinds of grief until they were ready to face it. It was a kind of safety mechanism to prevent them from giving up. She had been nearly ready to give up, hadn’t she? She had even considered suicide. But she felt ready to face it now. Alone, if necessary. She knew her daughter was gone, and she knew she was never coming back. The memories still shot through her like so many hot knives, but she’d gotten used to them. Hadn’t she? Perhaps it was time for her to really move on now. Move on from her grieving and move on from Caleb, too. She knew one thing for sure: she loved him enough that she couldn’t stand the thought of selfishly killing his dreams. She believed that he loved her, and she knew he’d stay if she let him. She also knew that he’d resent her for it in the end. How could he not? This had been his ambition from the start. There was just no way they could be together. He was too young and full of hope, and she was too tired and too scarred from a life of disappointment.

  Almost as soon as the sun had fully set, a wind rose up off the sound and whipped at he
r hair, carrying dark clouds and big drops of rain that stung against her cold cheeks. She tossed the shell and the glass back on the beach, stuffed her hands in her pockets, and walked back to her car.

  She knew what she had to do.

  SHE HEARD HIM FIRST, strumming his guitar and singing in the living room. The sound was so beautiful, she paused in the hall to wipe away a tear and regain her resolve.

  Then she walked into the living room and stood in front of him where he sat playing. He had lit a fire log, and it was casting a warm glow onto his face. He finished playing and smiled up at her from his chair. She knew in that moment that this would be the hardest thing she’d ever have to do.

  “Hi, babe. I was getting worried about you.”

  “Caleb, we need to talk.”

  She saw worry flicker in his eyes.

  “Is everything okay?”

  She shook her head.

  He set his guitar aside and stood.

  When he stepped toward her, she backed away. She wasn’t sure she could go through with it if she let him touch her.

  “Babe, what’s wrong? Are you all right?

  “Maybe we could just sit and talk,” she suggested, taking the chair across from the one he had been sitting in.

  “Okay. Sure.”

  He lowered himself back into his chair and leaned forward with his hands on his knees, a look of anxious expectation on his face, as if he were about to receive some punishment and was determined to take it in stride. Almost a minute passed, and she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t find the words.

  “Are you pregnant?” he finally asked. “Because if you are you can tell me. I know the timing’s weird and everything, but maybe it would be a blessing in disguise.”

  Jane almost laughed, but then she remembered what she had come to do and a sigh came out instead.

  “No. I’m not pregnant.”

  “Then what is it, babe?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Austin?”

  “What about Austin?”

  “Come on. I went to the pub today to get my credit card, and the bartender told me all about it. You’re supposed to call some guy named Jeremy about a gig he’s holding open.”

  Caleb looked down and shook his head.

  “Broken Coyotes.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the name of the band. Broken Coyotes. It’s some folk-rock mixed group. They need a guitar player.”

  “And they want you?” she asked.

  “Rumor has it they have a record label ready to sign them, but their other guy’s in his third rehab and on an ankle bracelet for a year after that. Jeremy played them one of my tapes and showed them some video. They want to see me.”

  “It sounds like a great opportunity.”

  “It is. I could co-write songs with them, for now. And this would give me an in down there, you know. It’s the real deal. No more playing on street corners and shit.”

  The ground seemed to shake beneath her feet, and Jane counted to ten. She inhaled deeply and let it out.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to know.”

  “Like I wasn’t going to find out?”

  “No,” he said. “You weren’t. Because I’m not going.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Now you’re just being stupid, Caleb.”

  “No, I’m not. I gave it some thought, lots actually, and it is a great opportunity, but I’d rather be here with you.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “Yep. End of story.”

  “No. Not end of story. You can’t just walk away from an opportunity like this.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “For what, Caleb.To live on an island in Washington?To stay around here and be my gardener.”

  “Is that what I am, your gardener?”

  “No. I didn’t mean it that way. You’ve done great work for me, and I got much more than I paid for, but now you have to go, Caleb. You can’t turn this offer down.”

  He leaned forward in his chair, a mix of desperation and anger in his eyes.

  “Is that what this is? You want me to leave?”

  “No. I mean, yes. It’s the right thing for you.”

  “What? You got your work out of me, and you had your fun, and now you’re done with me? Is it that easy for you, Jane? Is it that simple to just move on?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what do you mean?”

  Her throat constricted. She worried she might cry.

  “It’s ruined now, Caleb. Can’t you see that?”

  “What’s ruined?”

  “We are. Everything is. We were doomed before we even started. Something like this was guaranteed to happen sooner or later. It was baked into the thing. And it’s probably better that it’s happened so soon. It’s probably saving us both from a lot of grief later on. You know it. And I know it.”

  He stood from his chair and paced in front of the fire.

  “No,” he mumbled. “This can’t be the way it is.”

  Jane continued:

  “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. I’ve got half of mine behind me already. Even if you stayed, this would come back to haunt us now. The fuse is lit. You think you can turn down an opportunity like this—give up what you’ve dreamed about your entire life—just to stay here on Bainbridge Island with me? You think you won’t regret that choice? You’ll regret the hell out of it, Caleb. You’ll grow to resent me for it, too.”

  He stopped pacing and turned to face her.

  “Then come with me, Jane. Come with me to Austin.”

  She shook her head.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can do anything you want to. Come with me.”

  “I can’t go back and take a different path,” she said. “Not this late. Everything is here, Caleb. My house, my life, my job. I met with a woman today who is my age, and she can’t even find work. She’s me if I try to start over now.”

  “Then let me stay.”

  “No.”

  “So you won’t come, and you won’t let me stay. Where does that leave us, Jane?”

  “We have to end this here, Caleb. I’m sorry.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying this is over.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. It’s over.”

  He dropped to his knees in front of her, reached out and grabbed her shoulders, and looked into her eyes. He was crying.

  “Don’t say that, Jane. Don’t say it’s over.”

  She felt her own tears coming, and she knew that if she let even one go, the dam would break and the flood would come. She couldn’t afford to cry now. Not here. Here she had to be strong enough for both of them. There would be plenty of time for her to cry later, when he was gone.

  She shook her head and looked away.

  “It’s over, Caleb.”

  “You don’t mean that, baby. You don’t mean it. Just come with me to Austin. And if you won’t come, let me stay here.”

  She shook her head.

  “I love you, Jane,” he said.

  She sat rigid, ignoring his pleading eyes, shutting out his words. Because she loved him she had to pretend she didn’t.

  “Say you love me, Jane. Say it. I know you do.”

  “I thought I did,” she said, “but now it’s over.”

  She pushed his hands away from her shoulders and slid sideways from the chair and stood. He fell forward onto the empty cushion and buried his head in his arms and sobbed. She stood over him for one terrible moment, looking down. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen: the absolute purity of his response, the absence of any false machismo, his willingness to display pure emotion. His hair was spread out on his arms, and his back was heaving as he sobbed.

  She could hear his muffled words:

  “Say you love me, Jane. Just say you love me.”
r />   She had never wanted to say three words more. Every cell in her body ached to hold him. Every instinct told her to take him in her arms and tell him that she loved him. She wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to lie in bed and watch his sleeping face. But she knew that if she really loved him, she’d walk away. She knew he’d thank her one day. She was doing it as much to save him as she was to save herself from a future heartbreak that might kill her. At least that’s what she told herself. She heard her own voice, as if it were coming from somewhere far away:

  “You should sleep in the other room tonight.”

  The short trip to her bedroom was the longest walk of her life, as if her feet were cast in lead. She gently closed the door behind her and stood there in the dark for a long time. She listened but she could no longer hear if he was crying.

  When she finally moved away from the door, she went to the bathroom and washed her face in the dark. She couldn’t stand to look at herself in the mirror. Then she undressed and crawled into bed. She wasn’t sure when she started crying. It came at first like a small pang of regret that furrowed her brow as she lay on her side. Then her belly went weightless, like it might on a rollercoaster ride, and she clutched his pillow to her face and cried into it until it was soaked through. The tears aroused his smell from the cotton and made her cry all the more. She half expected him to come to her, she half hoped he might. But as the hours wheeled by in her desolate and self-imposed loneliness, she was left with nothing to console her except the tiny and fleeting feeling that she had somehow done what was right. For whom, though, she wasn’t quite sure.

  Part Three

  Chapter 22

  SOMETHING WOKE JANE—

  Perhaps a sound, perhaps a dream.

  She lay in her bed, washed in the gray light of early dawn, trying to remember what horror she had awoken from, only to realize that it was the horror she had awoken to. An image of Caleb’s crying eyes rose in her mind, and she knew that she had made a mistake. A terrible one.

  She jumped out of bed and burst from her room. She was halfway down the hall when she somehow knew. She opened his door slowly, wishing that she might be wrong, but the bed was neatly made up, and Caleb’s things were gone. She walked into the living room and looked out the big window, lying to herself that he was just up early and working in the garden. But only the silhouette of the fountain stood out against the gray. The wall clock ticked loudly in the quiet shadows behind her, marking the irreversible march of time. She looked at the chair where she had last seen him crying. What she wouldn’t give to take it all back—those words that had broken his heart.