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She couldn’t figure out the two weeks in which Stella had been conceived. How could she possibly make choices that would change a soul’s entire destiny?
She needed time. More than she’d have obviously, but any would be better than none. Time to figure him out, to be with Nolan Fortune, as himself, and see how much of Nolan Forte was alive in there. Time to get her own mind and heart wrapped around the truth of the affair she’d had with an imaginary man.
And yet, a man so real she ached to touch him, to be touched by him, even now.
She needed time to hold her baby close, quiet her mind and find peace in her heart.
“I’m sorry,” Nolan said, still beside her, though they’d walked a block from the coffee shop and she hadn’t said a word.
“I know.” She wasn’t heading anywhere in particular. The area around campus was filled with shops and eateries, bars, apartments and homes, too. Sunday in December gave the streets added flair, with Christmas decorations, traffic, shopping frenzy and early celebrations.
He asked her about her graduation, and was glad to know her aunt had made it down for the ceremony. He wanted to know about her current job. Wished she were able to work in her field of music, rather than substitute, but was sure her students were benefitting from having her with them.
It was rhetoric, she knew that, and absorbed it like cotton taking on water. Nolan’s praise was on a line straight to her heart. Not good.
And yet, it was a reality she’d have to face if she was going to be a good mother.
She didn’t ask him a single question about his life. At the moment, she was too busy struggling to put one foot in front of the other and form coherent answers to his questions—while her mind floundered with a million questions of her own.
Ten minutes from the coffee shop, Nolan touched her elbow. “What’s that over there?”
In a park diagonally across the street from them, a small band was setting up in front of a gathering of folded chairs. “You want to go see?” he asked.
The year before they’d happened upon Christmas carolers one night. They’d followed them for a bit and then had ended up joining in, singing harmony as though they’d rehearsed for months. The entire gang had shown up at the pub the next night to hear Nolan play.
No way should she walk back down any memory lanes. “Yeah,” she said. Only to buy herself time, she hoped, but feared she was lying to herself.
There was a sax, a flute and a clarinet—all wind instruments. Her personal favorites. Which was what had drawn her to Nolan Forte in the first place. He was a gifted saxophone player.
“Does Nolan Fortune ever play the sax?” she asked as they wandered over and took seats in the back of about ten rows. The rest of the rows were filling rapidly, as though people knew the band was going to be there and had planned to attend, as opposed to just happening upon the moment as she and Nolan had do
ne.
All they’d ever done. Things happened. There was no planning.
Had been no planning.
She couldn’t live like that anymore. She had Stella to consider. Bills to pay. A life to figure out.
“I play pretty much every day. Mostly late at night,” he said, glancing over at her. Her mind had been spinning so fast she’d almost forgotten the question.
He played every day. Letting Nolan Forte live and breathe. Her heart took hope. But he played mostly late at night. Because that was the only time he could squeeze out for the heart and soul of him? Because, even for himself, the heart came last?
As she pondered those questions, the three band members, middle-aged men in red sweaters and black jeans, were taking up their instruments, obviously ready to begin.
There were no mics. No introductions. Just notes filling the air. Really filling it. Sweetly. Powerfully.
Expecting traditional Christmas songs, Lizzie was caught up in a tune she’d never heard before. With the trebles and bass notes, the perfectly placed pianissimos, the song evoked a longing in her she couldn’t contain. It built, welled, and when Nolan took her hand toward the end, she held on, even after the music died away and applause erupted. Then a version of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” started, and she pulled away, clasping her hands together in her lap and pushing them between her thighs for added safety. Even then, she felt the chords washing over her and she wanted to sing along. And then, with the next song, to lose herself again. To become one with the angels and fly with joy. To know that great sacrifice, hard work, led to happiness. To believe that love really was the most powerful force of all.
When the half hour concert was over, she had to sit for a minute, still absorbing the impact of the music.
“That was magnificent.” Nolan’s soft tone was almost reverent. He’d made no move to stand, either. And then, a full minute later, he said, “I can’t believe they’re playing a free concert in the park. They should be recording.”
She stood, not wanting to hear anymore. She couldn’t bear for him to spoil the moment with a shift from the godly gift they’d just shared, to monetary wealth. To her, such great talent, being used for a free concert in the park, was perfection.
To Nolan Fortune, it was a waste.
And this was the man she had to share her daughter with?
