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He followed her to the living room, sat down at the baby grand and lifted the fallboard. Out of habit, he ran through a few scales, noting the instrument was perfectly tuned.
“David is using drugs and drinking excessively. He’s become irrational, and I’ve sued for sole custody of our sons. Because of that, my ex has grown increasingly belligerent and unpredictable.” Her voice hitched. “My lawyer suggested I hire security out of concern David might turn violent. Hence, John Clark. It’s a good thing, too,” She went on to describe her ex’s threats toward her.
“Last week, David showed up at the park where the boys were playing. Our bodyguard believes he intended to kidnap Charlie and Jeremy. David also showed up at the animal shelter where we adopted Sully. John was with us, and I can’t even tell you what a relief it was to have a bodyguard there.”
“That is alarming.” A surge of protectiveness toward her and her children slammed into him. Friends looked out for each other, didn’t they? He didn’t want her to see how deeply her words affected him. Just to keep things on an even keel, he continued to play the piano, softly.
“I pressed charges because of the threats and his harassment. David was arrested, but he’s out on bail now, which is even scarier. I dread thinking about what he might do to get back at me for putting him in jail.”
She set her computer and folder on the top of the piano and took a couple sheets of paper out of a file folder. “My ex is wearing one of those GPS things on his ankle, and I’ve filed a restraining order against him. If he does come anywhere near me or our boys, he’ll go right back to jail until the trial.”
“I’m sorry you’re going through this, Theresa. If you ever feel like you need to talk, or if you need help, give me a call. I mean it.” Becoming her friend—his new mission—would definitely take his mind off the emptiness of his own life.
“Thanks. Well, anyway, this song isn’t entirely autobiographical, but it’s pretty close. She handed him one of the two pieces of paper she held and gave him a few minutes to look the piece over. “Here’s what I had in mind for the chorus. I’ll sing it, but the tune isn’t written. I’m just improvising. I’ll let you work on the music as we go.”
“I’m picking up the pieces of this broken dream.
You know I’ll rearrange them, as hard as that may be.
I’m taking apart what was of us to see what I can make.
My heart’s another story, no telling what that will take.”
She sang a few verses after the chorus, and as always, Theresa’s voice raised the small hairs on the back of his neck and sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine. Perfect pitch with a hint of sultry, Theresa’s voice mesmerized and held her audiences spellbound. And right now, he was her audience of one and definitely a fan.
Caleb nodded. “Here’s what I think,” he began. “You have incredible vocal range. Let’s start here with a vocal run.” He played a note at a lower pitch. “Bring it all the way here when you sing the chorus, and belt it out.” He took it up more than an octave. “Listen to this and tell me what you think.”
“I’ve got to go now. I’m out of tears to cry.
I’ve given up confusion, no longer wonder why.
Baby, I’m leaving you, though you’re already gone.
My heart did not believe it, I see now I was wrong.”
He sang enough to give her an idea what he had in mind. “Of course, we’ll add some harmonizing.” He played just the music and hummed the harmony. He was just spit balling the melody based on what she’d sung, but it was a start.
“Okay, so you think that stanza makes a better chorus?” She opened her laptop and sat beside him on the piano bench.
The flowery, feminine scent of the shampoo or soap she used wafted over him, and he drew it in. He missed having a feminine presence in his life. Not enough to risk another heartbreak, but enough to notice what he’d been missing.
“We can toss around a few versions for the chorus,” he said. “So, what do you think?”
“You’re right.” She grinned. “Hold on while I make the changes.” She opened her laptop and brought up her music file.
“Here’s another suggestion. What if we round off some of the square edges in this piece? Maybe make the verses less poem-like and more like a story, expand a few of the stanzas, and add some vocalizations. Your fans will eat this up and rally to your side with this tragic tale of heartbreak.”
She typed notes about the changes at the top of the song. “I can do that.”
“Do you have any other pieces near ready?” he asked, thinking ahead, coming up with reasons they could continue spending time together once this song was finished. He had to be with her if he meant to provide encouragement and support. “We could work on an album themed around endings, healing, and new beginnings.”
Theresa drew in an audible, shaky breath. “I’m not sure about … I’m not at the new beginnings phase in this hell. I wouldn’t know what to write about healing, because honestly, I don’t know anything about what that’s like.”
Her voice quavered, and he cringed inwardly. He’d been an ass to mention healing while her wounds were still so open and raw. He wished he could draw her into his arms, offer her comfort. “Are you seeing anyone?”
“What? No!” She bristled. “My divorce isn’t even final. We’re in a custody battle right now.”
His brow rose at her outburst. “I meant a therapist or a grief counselor.”
