Jane's Melody Page 4

  “That was a pleasant surprise,” Jane said, after several quiet minutes had passed. “Thank you.”

  “Least I could do, ma’am.”

  “Oh, please, for the love of God, don’t call me ma’am. Makes me feel old enough to be your grandmother, when I’m only old enough to be your mother. Just call me Jane.”

  “Just Jane it is then,” he said.

  Jane sipped her coffee and eyed Caleb over the rim of her mug. She could certainly see why Melody might have found him attractive. Despite the swelling, his face was still handsome, but it was his mouth that kept drawing her eyes. His jaw was strong and slightly squared, touched with morning stubble. And his lips. There was a cut on the right side, but they were perfect otherwise, especially the way they stretched over his white teeth when he smiled. And then there were his eyes. Deep and green, pools of mystery that a woman could drown in if she weren’t careful. Jane reminded herself to be careful. She also reminded herself that he had been Melody’s love interest.

  “Do you ever take off that old hat?” she asked, when he caught her inspecting him. “You know it’ll make you go bald?”

  “Well,” he said, “I’ll really need it then, won’t I?”

  “You wouldn’t let me take it off you last night.”

  He pulled the cap off and looked at it, running his other hand through his thick, unkempt hair.

  “It was my dad’s,” he said. “Only thing he ever gave me besides my temper.”

  “Do you have a bad temper?” she asked.

  “I keep it in check.”

  “And how do you do that?”

  “Music.”

  Jane nodded. She understood what he meant. She kept her own emotions in check doing Sudoku number puzzles.

  “What will you do now?” she asked.

  “What will I do?”

  “Yes, without your guitar?”

  Caleb looked down at the table and sighed.

  “I dunno. Borrow another guitar until I can earn enough to buy it back. You don’t have one lying around here, do ya?”

  Jane shook her head.

  “Well, I’ll find one anyway,” he said. “Something always turns up if you need for it bad enough.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is for me.”

  “Then what?” she asked.

  “Then I’ll save up and get out of here.”

  “Head to Austin?”

  “How’d you know I’m heading to Austin?”

  “You told me yesterday.”

  “Oh,” he said, nodding. “I was kind of out of it.”

  “Why Austin?” she asked.

  “Running from the rain, for one thing,” he said.

  Jane smiled.

  “That’s reason enough for me.”

  “But it’s more than that,” he added, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “It’s the best music scene going. Musicians.Labels. Industry scouts. Studios. And there’s enough gigs for a guy to make a real living, even if he doesn’t hit it big. At least that’s what I hear. It’s like Nashville but without all them silly award shows and shit.”

  “Why don’t you just go then?” she asked.

  “Just start walking?”

  “Not right now. I meant before your stuff got stolen.”

  “Well, I was saving up to go. I missed the festival this year. But I’m hoping to get there before summer. I’ve got to have enough to get a place and make a real go of it. You get a bad rep pretty quick when you’re hustling on the street corner. So my plan is to do my hustling here and then get a fresh start in Austin where nobody knows me.”

  Jane saw the hope in his eyes as he spoke about Austin. It was as if the pain that normally resided there was momentarily forced away, only to flicker back as soon as he finished talking.

  “I could help you,” she said.

  “Help me how?”

  “Help you get to Austin. Help you get set up.”

  Caleb held her stare, an intensity in his eyes that she wasn’t used to seeing in people. Then he drained his coffee, pulled his hat back onto his head, and stood to clear the table.

  “Thanks, but no thanks,” he said. “You’ve already done more than enough for me.”

  Jane stood and followed him to the sink with her dishes.

  “You’re not even going to hear me out?” she asked.

  “I’m not a charity case. Never have been, never will be.”

  “Help isn’t charity.”

  He took the plate from her hand.

  “Sure sounds like it to me.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I wasn’t even talking about a handout. I was selfishly planning to put you to work.”

  “Put me to work? Where?”

  “Here.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Leave the dishes for now and I’ll show you.”

  She took him into the living room and pulled back the curtains covering the big window, revealing the tangled half-acre mess that was her backyard. A small creek ran across the property, and its banks were lined with blackberry brambles so thick that an observer wouldn’t even know there was a creek there if the wooden bridge crossing it weren’t partially visible beneath the thorns. Scotch Broom and other weeds consumed the rest of the yard, with one rosebush standing out as the only attractive plant.

  “What a mess,” Caleb said.

  “I know it,” she replied. “I’ve been neglecting it for years.”

  “You’ll be able to make blackberry pies in a few months.”

  Jane shook her head.

  “I hate blackberries.”

  “Nobody hates blackberries,” he said.

  “I do. They take over everything. I want them all pulled out. But you have to get them by the roots or they come back.”

  “Well, at least you’ve got a rosebush there.”

  “I want that pulled out too,” she said.

  “The roses?” he asked. “But why?”

  “Haven’t you seen their thorns? They’re just blackberry bushes with flowers instead of fruit. I don’t like any plant that can defend itself against me. Plus, it was a housewarming gift from my mother, which makes me hate it even more. You can’t see it now, but there used to be a nice lawn and a vegetable garden buried beneath there. I’d like to pay you to clean it up.”

  Caleb shook his head.

  “It’s a long way out here from the city every day.”

  “That’s why you’ll stay here,” she said. “Room and board are included.”

  “I dunno,” he said, biting his swollen lip.

  “You’ve got better offers?”

  “It just seems like you could find a landscape company that could do it better than I could.”

  “I’ve tried,” she said. “They all want to charge a fortune to even touch it. Really, you’d be doing me a favor.”

  Jane watched his eyes scan the yard, his mind calculating, working out a plan. Then he looked at her and asked:

  “What would you pay me?”

  “How much do you need to get set up in Austin?”

  He cocked his head and wagged a finger at her.

  “I told you I don’t want any charity. Just tell me what the work is worth to you, and then subtract out something for my staying here. Take out for food too.”

  “Okay,” she said. “How long do you think it will take?”

  “That depends. Do you want a new lawn reseeded and everything once it’s cleared?”

  “Yes. And I’d like my garden back.”

  “Your garden too?”

  “And a fountain.”

  He looked back out the window at the yard.

  “I dunno,” he said. “A month.Maybe two.”

  Jane paused to do the figures, mumbling them out loud.

  “Let’s see, eight weeks full time—that’s three hundred and twenty hours. Figure twenty bucks an hour. I think that’s fair, don’t you? Let’s say two hundred bucks a month for rent.”

  “Only two hundred?”


  “I’ve got a low mortgage. You’re messing up my math.”

  “Okay,” he said, “go ahead.”

  “That makes six thousand dollars for two months’ work.”

  “Six thousand dollars?”

  “Is it not enough?”

  “No. I mean, yes. It’s fine. Too much, maybe.”

  “Well, it’s hard work,” she said. “Plus, you haven’t seen how far back the yard goes yet. This is one of the last half acre lots on the street.”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work,” he said.

  “Good,” she replied. “A handsome musician with a work ethic. I think that’ll make a nice combination in Austin.”

  He looked into her eyes and she could see him studying her face, deciding if he could trust her. She felt suddenly self-conscious, standing there in her robe. She wondered what her face looked like in the natural light and if she looked as old to him as she did to herself in the morning mirror. Then she remembered that this man had been her daughter’s boyfriend, and she scolded herself for even caring.

  “You’re sure this isn’t charity?” he asked.

  “I’m sure,” she said. “You’d be doing me a big favor.”

  “And you won’t interrogate me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, this isn’t just some ploy to make me a captive audience and grill me about your daughter.”

  “I won’t ask you anything,” she said.

  “Okay. I’ll do it. I’m going to give you the best backyard you’ve ever seen. Something right off the pages of one of those fancy magazines.”

  “Great,” she said, clapping her hands together and smiling. “Why don’t you go get showered and cleaned up. Then I’ll take you to town, and we’ll get you some clothes and some tools.”

  “Some clothes?”

  “Yes,” she said, “some clothes.”

  She reached out and grabbed his torn T-shirt, her fingers grazing his chest as she did, which sent a sudden jolt up her spine, although she wasn’t quite sure why.

  “I can’t have you running around the yard wearing this ratty old get-up, now can I? What would the neighbors say?”

  “THIS WASN’T PART OF THE DEAL.”

  Caleb shot an irritated glance at Jane.

  “Oh, just relax and enjoy it,” she said. “Haven’t you ever had a manicure before?”

  “No, I haven’t, and I hope to never have one again. Don’t you have any girlfriends you could do this stuff with?”

  Jane just smiled at Caleb, watching him wince and scowl at the manicurist as she snipped his cuticles. She had to admit that he was cute in his new outfit—hiking boots, khakis, and a plaid button-up shirt. He might just fit in on the island after all, she thought. Now if she could just get him to ditch that hat.

  She hadn’t wanted to go back into the city, and the only clothing store on the island other than a boutique that catered to women, was the Outdoor Gear and Clothing Emporium. There they had filled up a small cart with enough clothes to last him at least several months, all of which Caleb insisted on repaying out of his earnings. The manicure, however, was on Jane. And he was fine with that, he’d told her, because he’d never pay for something as silly as having his nails clipped.

  “You want pedicure too?” the manicurist asked, speaking with a heavy Vietnamese accent.

  Caleb looked over at Jane.

  “What’s a pedicure?”

  Jane couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

  “Yes,” she said, addressing the manicurist, “he’ll have a pedi also. And give him a paraffin dip too.”

  By the time they left the nail salon, they were both hungry again, but Caleb insisted that he wasn’t up for what he called a “chatty girlfriend lunch,” so Jane brought him instead to Island Barbeque House. They sat outside at the picnic table and ate ribs and cornbread. It was a bit chilly still, but the sunshine was a nice change after so many weeks of rain.

  As Jane drizzled honey on a second piece of cornbread, she tried to remember the last time when she’d felt so hungry. It must have been almost a month ago, before the news about Melody. She didn’t want thoughts of her daughter’s death to dampen what was turning out to be a gorgeous day, so she pushed them away and turned her attention to Caleb.

  “You have to admit you enjoyed it,” she said.

  “The nail thing?”

  “Yeah. Come on. You liked it, didn’t you? At least a little.”

  “I might have maybe enjoyed the massage chair. But don’t tell anyone, or I’ll lose all my street cred for sure.”

  “Well, who would I tell, anyway?” she asked. “I don’t know anything about you.”

  Caleb squinted his eyes at her.

  “Is this the part where you interrogate me, even though you promised not to?”

  “No,” she said innocently. “I’m just curious about you is all. Is that a crime?”

  “There isn’t much to know,” he said.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  He took off his hat and set it on the table. He said:

  “I was raised by my aunt after my dad died of liver disease, ’cause of his drinking. My mom had died in a car wreck when I was little. She was a drunk too. Killed herself and a pizza boy who was on his way back from a delivery. They tell me I was in the car, but I don’t remember it. That’s how I got this scar on my chin. Anyway, life sucks sometimes. My aunt brought me up in Spokane. Hot summers. Cold winters. Lots of nights alone in my room. School counselor discovered that I was synesthetic. Old man down the street introduced me to music. I worked paper routes and saved up and bought a guitar. Learned six chords.Wrote a thousand songs. Been in love with music ever since. My aunt passed when I was sixteen. They were trying to find me a foster home, but I took off. Hitch-hiked across the mountains for the city. I’ve been up and down ever since. Had some good jobs.Lost some better ones. But I never gave up on music. And now here I am. Dressed like a yuppie hillbilly and doing yard work for a lady who seems to want to help me for no apparent reason.”

  Jane sat listening, with a piece of cornbread suspended in her hand halfway to her mouth. Honey dripped onto the table.

  “Wow,” she said when he finished speaking. “I wasn’t expecting all that.”

  He pulled his hat back on.

  “I figure it’s best to get it out of the way now,” he said. “That way you can quit asking.”

  Jane set her cornbread down.

  “I’m sorry about your family.”

  He looked away.

  “You gotta play the notes you’re given, you know?”

  “So you don’t have anyone?”

  He shook his head. She didn’t want to upset him just as he was opening up, so she changed the subject.

  “You said you were synesthetic. What’s that mean?”

  “It just means I hear sound in color.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. Not every sound. But some of them.And definitely music. And most voices.”

  “So what color is my voice?”

  “Blue,” he said. “A really pretty blue.”

  “Is that how you knew my voice when I found you?”

  He nodded and bit into a rib.

  Jane sipped her Diet Coke and eyed the beer sign in the Barbeque House window.

  “It sounds like drinking runs in your family,” she said. “It runs thick in mine too. Did you ever have any problems?”

  “I dunno,” he said. “I did a little, I guess. Early on. But I never touch it now because I never want to be like my dad.”

  “Never?”

  “I swore it off.”

  “I don’t drink very often either. My mom is a dry drunk, and my brother’s straight up alcoholic. I was abstinent for a long time. Even joined the Mormon Church for a minute when I found out they don’t let you drink.”

  Caleb smiled, a ring of rib sauce on his lips.

  “I tried to join the Jehovah’s Witnesses once, but my aunt wouldn’t let me.”
r />   Jane laughed.

  “I didn’t know Jehovah’s couldn’t drink either.”

  “I don’t know if they can or not,” he said. “I wanted to join because the guy came to our door and said that in their heaven animals could talk.”

  “Come on, you’re pulling my leg. Talking animals?”

  “That’s what the man said. I had sort of adopted a stray cat, but she’d died a month or so before. I thought it would be the best thing in the world to be able to see her again. Maybe even have a conversation. Anyway, my aunt said they were heretics. But I’m not sure she even knew what she was talking about because when she got sick, she said God was punishing her for being an atheist.”

  “Punishing her for being an atheist?”

  “Have you ever heard such a stupid thing?”

  “No,” she said, giggling. “If you don’t believe in God, how could he be punishing you for not believing in him?”

  “That’s what I told her. But people believe strange shit.”

  Jane pushed her plate away.

  “I don’t know what I believe in anymore.”

  Caleb shrugged.

  “Me either. Except music. I believe in music.”

  After finishing their lunch, Jane took Caleb to the island hardware store. They trolled the aisles, filling a cart with items he would need to start work—pruning shears, thick leather gloves, a shovel. When he asked her why she didn’t already have all this stuff, she just shrugged and said she used to pay a neighbor kid to come and mow the lawn and pull the weeds but that he grew up and went off to college five years ago.

  “So you just gave up and let it go wild?” he asked.

  “I guess,” she said. “I had my hands full with everything my daughter was going through. The yard took a back seat.”

  He nodded but didn’t say anything more.

  When they brought their cart to the front, the clerk behind the counter looked up from his Guns & Ammo magazine and his mustache crinkled up in a nervous smile.

  “Oh, hi there, Jane,” he said. “Becca’s been meaning to ring you about that life insurance plan. We’ve just been a little spread out lately. But she knows she owes you a call.”

  Jane dismissed it with a wave of her hand.