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He reaches into the trunk and gently lifts the guitar out. “I got it months ago,” he says, holding out the Gibson Hummingbird acoustic-electric guitar I’ve been coveting for two years. “I asked the guy to keep it in the window in case you came back to look at it, as you always do.”
“You can’t afford this.”
He slings the strap over my shoulders. “Yes, I can. The estate lawyer sent me a check a few months ago.”
The tears come faster at this news. Caleb’s father passed away last year and he’s been waiting for the estate lawyer who handled his father’s will to disburse the inheritance. He told me he was going to get the meager inheritance on his eighteenth birthday in January. But when January came and went without any news from Caleb, I was too afraid to bring it up.
“I can’t accept this. This is a $4,000 guitar. That’s almost half your inheritance.”
“That money means nothing to me if I can’t use it on the only family I have left in this world.”
My fingers fall on the smooth body of the guitar and a chill passes through me. Caleb is the one who made me test out the guitar in the store two years ago. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. The sound was so beautiful and resonant it made me cry. But to hold it in my hands… to carry it home with me and call it my own… that’s beyond a dream come true. It’s a miracle.
“Caleb, I’ll always be your family. You don’t need to give me this.”
“It’s not a bribe.” He takes my face in his hands and kisses my forehead. “I just want to see you smile.”
I pull up the neck of my T-shirt and wipe the tears from my face. “Okay, I’ll keep it. But only if you let me play a lullaby for you and the baby.”
He scrunches his eyebrows together and smiles. “Of course,” he replies, rubbing his belly. “Let’s go lie under the stars. You, me, Junior, and—” His mouth drops open. “What are you gonna name the guitar?”
I shrug. “I hadn’t thought of that. What do you think I should name it?”
He slams the trunk closed then wraps his arm around my shoulder as we walk toward the soccer field. “How about Caleb’s Love Slave or ’Cuda Monster?”
I shake my head. “Terrible. How about… Blackbird?”
Caleb is silent as we trudge through the damp grass. I begin to wonder if he didn’t hear me, then he finally speaks. “You mean, like, a blackbird with broken wings?”
I stop walking and look up at him. “No. Like a blackbird who’s learning to fly.”
He smiles and nods toward the field for us to keep going. “I like that better.”
We find a nice flat patch of grass and Caleb lays his hoodie on the ground for us to sit down. The hoodie isn’t big enough for both of us to sit on while I’m sitting cross-legged with the guitar in my lap. So we decide it’s okay to get a little wet and we lie back to gaze at the stars.
I feel around the frets until my fingers are in the correct position, then I begin plucking the strings, playing one of the first songs Caleb ever sang for me four and a half years ago: “You’re My Best Friend” by Queen.
I spend a whole hour playing songs for Caleb, pretending I can’t feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. But when his phone starts ringing, I know it’s time for me to head home. It’s Tuesday and my parents prefer to have me back before midnight on school nights.
I sit up and remove the guitar strap from around my neck as Caleb answers the call and immediately passes me the phone. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes,” I say, not bothering to say hello or who is this?
“You should have been home twenty minutes ago,” my mom replies.
“It’s only 11:30. I don’t have to be home until midnight.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to stay out until midnight every night of the week, Abby. Get home.”
She hangs up before I can argue. I hand Caleb the phone and the guitar so I can stand up. He slings the guitar strap over his neck and begins playing an upbeat variation on “Blackbird” as we head back to the car. Caleb can probably play guitar better than I can, but he prefers drums. So he has a tendency to smack the guitar while he plays. I usually love it, but I’ll admit I’m a little nervous as I watch him banging on my new instrument.
“Dance, Abby. Dance like nobody’s watching.”
I shake my head and smile. Caleb once told me how much he hated corny catchphrases because they’re never as meaningful as the words that are unrehearsed and spoken from the heart. Then, a few weeks later, he found a diary my mom gave me when I was ten and the quote on the cover read “Dance like nobody’s watching.” Ever since then, it’s become our little inside joke. He knows it’s the one phrase that will always make me smile.
We stand next to the trunk of the car as he finishes the song. When he’s done, I clap and he takes a bow, then he carefully places the guitar back in the trunk.
I gaze at it longingly. “Can you hold on to it for me? I don’t want my parents to ask me about it and find out how much it cost. We’ll let them find out after we move in together.”
He smiles as he slams the trunk shut. “Whatever you say.”
“Are you mad?”
“What? Of course not.”
He bends his knees a bit so he can wrap his arms around my waist and lift me up. I coil my arms around his neck and lay my head on his sturdy shoulder. He plants a soft kiss on my neck and I sigh.
“Anything that makes it easier for us to be together is fine by me,” he whispers against my skin.
I tighten my arms around his neck so I can lift my legs and wrap them around his hips. He chuckles as he turns me around and sets me down on top of the trunk. I tilt my head back and he swallows hard as I gaze into his emerald eyes.
“I love you, my little blackbird. You should know by now that I’ll never say no to you.”
I squeeze my legs tighter around him to bring him closer and I’m not surprised when I feel a slight bulge in his jeans. “Kiss me before midnight or I’ll turn into a real blackbird.”
“As you wish.”
His mouth falls gently over mine and I run my fingers through the soft ha
ir on the back of his head. He moans into my mouth and I smile as I kiss him harder. He loves when I run my fingers through his hair.
“Slow down, sunshine.”
I sigh as I push him away. “Let’s go.”
“Hey, don’t get mad. I’m just trying to keep you from getting too excited.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it a million times. Just take me home.”
I open the passenger door and he slams it shut before I can get inside. “I know you’ve heard it before, but can you please not make me feel like a total asshole for trying to keep you safe?”
“I’m not going to have a heart attack from kissing you!”
“I know that, Abby. But there are things I want to do with you… to you, and I don’t know how your body will react. You can’t expect me to not be afraid.”
I lean back against the side of the car and he lays his hands flat on the glass, boxing me in. “Things you want to do to me?”
He chuckles as he leans in and lays a tender kiss on my jaw. “Yes. I want to…”
My hands reach forward. Finding his solid chest, I grab fistfuls of his T-shirt. “You want to what?”
His lips travel from my jaw up to my ear. “I want to taste you.”
He traces his tongue along the edge of my earlobe and I tighten my grip on his shirt so I don’t collapse. “Okay, okay, that’s enough.”
He pulls his head back to look me in the eye. “Are you okay?”
I nod quickly. “Yes, but I have to go home.”
He smiles and kisses my temple. “Pretty soon we’ll be at NC State and we’ll be going home together.”
I sigh as I kiss him on the cheek. “I can’t wait for the summer to be over.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
The day of
Abby’s eighteenth birthday
I LOCK THE BEDROOM door and head straight for the closet. Today is the day I’ve been dreading for eighteen years. I wish I had it in me to throw away that box of photos. But, as much as I fear not measuring up to Abby’s birth parents, I have a greater fear of watching Abby live the rest of her life feeling broken and betrayed by me.
