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“My best friend.” He was looking at me now with tears in his eyes. “He died a few years ago. His wife and I looked everywhere for this. It was his most prized possession. We thought maybe he gave it to an auction or something toward the end. He knew he was sick and started donating things to various charities.”
Then he pulled a picture from his wallet. When he showed it to me, I saw a younger version of him and my mystery guitar guy holding my guitar. He handed it to me.
“Wait, that’s–” I looked at August. “That's the man who gave this to me. How–” I tried hard to swallow the huge lump that had formed in my throat.
He left the room without saying anything else. I was sitting there stunned. He came back with a little circle compact mirror. He walked over and placed the guitar flat on the ground. Then he placed the mirror inside the body, careful not to disturb the strings too much. I kneeled beside him.
“See that? I inscribed that when I made this.” It said the words ‘Cradle to Grave’ with two sets of initials, one set being AF. August Foster. He removed the mirror and held the guitar in his hands, just staring at it in awe.
“You… you made it?” I was speechless for a few moments. “But how did you… how did you know by just looking at it?”
He smiled like he was recalling a thought. “Green was our favorite color.” He wiped a stray tear from his eye. “I took an instrument-making workshop my father held when he first opened the shop, and this was what I made. The grains looked funny to me, which is why I chose them.
David was becoming more famous and about to go on tour, so I made it for him. Making instruments definitely wasn’t a passion, but this one was perfect. Taking that class is what made me buy the music store from my dad.”
I felt like I was paralyzed with shock. My mind finally cleared, and I needed to know more. “Tell me about him. About David.”
We got up and sat back on the bed, and he began. “Our mothers were best friends, so we knew each other from birth and we were friends through everything. Him leaving to tour, me staying here, all of it. I even introduced him and his wife. We were best friends until the day he died.”
My heart utterly shattered for him. I couldn’t imagine losing Callie or Nick. I would be absolutely broken. “How did he die?” I asked.
“Heart attack, but he was really sick. He was diagnosed with MS and it progressed fast.”
I hugged him snugly around the neck. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Dad. I couldn’t imagine losing someone that important to me.” My heart felt like the floodgates had opened.
He pushed back and looked at me, stunned, but he was smiling and started to cry. “You called me Dad.”
I was crying now, too. “I sure did.”
We sat there crying and embracing one another for a while, neither one of us wanting to let go. “I think David led you to me in a roundabout way. A true coincidence.”
I can’t even explain the feelings flowing through me. A few moments later, Link came up and found us crying. He realized they were happy tears and left to give us privacy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lincoln
Iwoke up to Aubrey’s note and got dressed quickly; I was hoping to catch her in the shower and maybe get my hands on her before I had to leave. I went up the stairs two steps at a time trying to be quiet but Ifroze when I saw Pops sitting with her on the bed, crying. I was about to walk in until I realized they were smiling. I thought I should give them some time to finish whatever they were talking about.
Aubrey looked over at me. “I will be downstairs,” I said as I walked away from the doorway. Since it seemed like a happy moment, I didn’t want to ruin it. I walked down to the kitchen where Mom was cooking, but she didn’t seem concerned, which eased my mind a little.
“Hey honey, good morning. Want some eggs?”
“Morning Momma. Sure! Are they okay up there?”
Mom didn’t look at me when I spoke, but I saw her back tense up. Now I’m worried. “They are fine. Just some father-daughter bonding, I think. You can ask Aubrey about it later, I’m sure.”
I paused, and my heart sank. “Why? Is Aubrey not okay?” I started to rethink leaving her room and I was about to turn my ass back around. Mom cleared her throat abruptly and turned towards me, holding a plate of food.
“Lincoln, sit down and eat. You’re going to be late to work.”
“Fuck work. If she’s not okay, I need to go up there; that should be me consoling her, not Pops. She’s my—”
“LINCOLN MATTHEW! WATCH YOUR MOUTH!”
My eyes widened in surprise. I’ve heard my mom raise her voice like that very few times in my life. I immediately sat down and didn’t say another word. She placed my plate of food down and sat beside me.
“Some conversations don’t require your presence or concern you. You guys could use some space, don’t you think? You are getting quite hot and heavy quickly. Give her a minute to breathe.” She didn’t wait for me to answer her first question; she kept talking. “Now, please just sit and eat and then go to work.”
