“Do you have the nightmares more when you think about them or when you don’t?”
“There’s really no rhyme or reason,” he says. “They’ve slowed down a lot in the last year, and I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“And the driver got out of prison?”
“Yeah. Long time ago. The justice system is fucked up, but if we’re being honest, what difference does it make? Whether he’s in prison or not, nothing is going to bring them back.”
“Maybe there’s a way to honor them with the new album.”
He smiles. The kind of smile that’s equal parts amused and exasperated.
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t respond right away. “You know you want to record new music.”
“I do, but I still haven’t decided if I’m ready to risk everything for a pipe dream. That kind of success usually only happens once in a lifetime. I’d be naïve to assume I can pull it off again. I appreciate your support, truly, but I have to figure this out on my own.”
“Okay.” I take a sip of coffee and stare out at the water. “You know what’s weird?”
“What?”
“I don’t think I ever had big dreams. Nursing was a career. A way to make money, support myself, and I do enjoy helping people. But I don’t think it was ever a dream. A calling. It was just…a job.”
“Do you have a dream, or a calling?”
I slowly shake my head. “No, I don’t think so. Is that weird? That’s weird, right?”
“I don’t think so. I think there’s a lot of pressure put on us at a young age to find ourselves. They’re not talking about maturity, they’re forcing us to figure out what to do for the rest of our lives. Many of us just aren’t ready, so we—in this case, you—choose a career that will pay the bills. Something we can tolerate. Ostensibly, for the rest of our lives. I don’t think you’re the first person to say what you just said.”
“I think I just assumed I would get married, have kids, and focus on family,” I say in a voice so soft it’s almost a whisper, like I’m embarrassed to say it out loud.
“And as a strong, modern, independent woman, that’s shameful, right?”
My gaze snaps to his. “Do you think it is?”
“No. But it’s obvious you do.”
“I guess so. I mean, the right guy didn’t come along in my twenties and then River was born, and my sister needed me. We were finally figuring that out when Carter died and she spiraled all over again. I had to focus on the two of them, so it was easy to just forget about myself. And now I’ve met you.”
“Does that change anything?”
“Yes and no. I still want and need to work, but watching you struggle has made it clear to me that I’ve never allowed myself the luxury of dreaming. Not about anything big. A trip or winning the lottery or falling in love, yes, but not?—”
“Wait. You don’t think falling in love is a big deal?” He cocks his head curiously.
I’m thoughtful for a few seconds, ruminating.
“I guess…I’ve had such bad luck with love, and men, that I made myself believe that it’s not.”
“I promise you—it is. A very big deal. A huge deal. There’s nothing better than falling in love with someone who loves you back the same way. Who shares your dreams, at least in the sense of supporting them, and wants to go along for the ride. But that doesn’t mean giving up their own dreams. It’s about finding a way to merge the two.”
“What was Clara’s dream?”
“To teach and then write children’s books. She also wanted to make a home for us. A place I could come back to between tours that would feel happy, safe, and welcoming. I mean, she planned to travel with me too, but obviously, at twenty-one we had no idea what the future would look like as far as kids and stuff. We figured we had all the time in the world for that. Short-term, she wanted to teach so she could get up close and personal with the kids she wanted to write books for. Then she would retire and write those books while I made music.”
“Oh.” I can’t help but smile. “I think I would have liked her.”
“I think so too. Want to see a picture?”
“Yes.” And I really do. Not just because I’m curious, but because I don’t want his past to feel like some dirty little secret.
