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“Same old,” he said with an easy manner. “I’ve taken over my father’s medical practice.”
She sat back. “Really? I had no idea you went to med school.”
He gave her an amused look. “What did you think my major was in college?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Playing around? Drinking? You know, same as Tom. You two were in the same fraternity, weren’t you?”
Simon gave her a bemused look. “Tom dropped out of the fraternity after the first year. Not his thing.”
“Oh, right. I forgot.” Had she known about that or that Simon had been premed? She put the thought out of her mind. There was a lot she didn’t remember from around that time.
A short dark-haired older man came up along Simon. “Dr. Callington, you going to be at the game tomorrow?”
Kate turned her attention back to the stage, glad that Simon’s attention was no longer on her. The whole conversation had made her uncomfortable, bringing back embarrassing memories she’d rather forget of her freshman year in high school skulking near Simon’s locker. She looked over at Tom and Tamzin, wondering if she could escape into the house for a while to steal some moments alone. Lots of moments. An hour’s worth if that was possible, or better yet, until after everyone had left. The light was starting to go. Surely it wouldn’t be long.
Her attention was caught by her father playing the opening riff to “If I Fall Behind” in a blend that called both Willie Nelson and Elvis Presley to mind instead of Bruce Springsteen. Her dad glanced back at Ethan, giving a little nod. It took her by surprise when Ethan stepped up to the front of the stage to take Phil’s place at the microphone beside her father’s. Phil stepped to the back, resuming Ethan’s former position. Ethan leaned toward the microphone and in deep, rich tones sang the opening words of the song. Her breath caught and the words that had seemed so much a part of her father and mother’s world suddenly became his. Even more than “Suzanne,” the anthem of her parents’ relationship, their life together.
The music, the words and his voice held her there, suspended, her breath long forgotten as the song rolled over her. The way he sang, sunglasses removed in the fading light, the hat tipped back, she could see that he was lost into the experience as a musician, just as she was, only as a listener. His eyes opened at the chorus and his gaze caught hers, and for a moment it was as if the words were meant for her—I’ll wait for you.Even as he moved to the next phrase, his gaze never shifted, and she sat there, transfixed.
She blinked away all the emotions the song, his look, the whole experience aroused in her. She was grateful when, as the song continued, his eyes moved to others in the audience, his expression earnest, reaching out to everyone, drawing them in.Such stage presence, she noted. It was irresistible. She’d hardly resisted it back in college, and now it was impossible. O’Connor’s had been a mere taster of his current abilities.
She sighed and shook her head, forcing unwanted thoughts away. He was good, a perfect combination of musician and singer, no doubt about it, and she could see why her father had bonded with him so quickly. What had drawn him here exactly for such an extended time period? Was he a professor on sabbatical? He’d been a top student, she remembered that. He awed her in the couple of English literature classes they’d had together. His father had been some bigwig lawyer or politician, she thought. Maybe he’d followed in those footsteps, like Simon had his father’s. It was a puzzle she didn’t really want to think about. She glanced over at Tom, who was watching Ethan’s performance, a smile on his face. Tamzin leaned over and said something to him, and he nodded. What a couple they were. Or not. She was such an odd choice for Tom. Any thoughts on that front were best left alone, though.
Ethan brought the song to a close to loud claps and a few whistles. He grinned out at the audience. Her father gestured toward Ethan. “That’s right, give it up for Ethan Peterson.”
Ethan gave another nod and pulled down the brim of his cap to its former position and retreated to the back of the stage. And that was it. Kate blinked and found that her father was speaking, sending out his thanks to everyone for coming and sharing the music with him and bidding the audience goodnight. The spell was broken. The celebration finished. It was what she’d wanted earlier, but she wasn’t so sure now.
“Do you want any food, Simon?” She’d suddenly thought he might not have had a chance to eat.
He smiled at her. “No, I’m good. I grabbed something on the way over here.”
Tom leaned forward. “Stick around. You can help clean up, and then we’re going to have an informal jam session inside with just the band.”
Kate looked at Tom, a kernel of alarm suddenly forming in her stomach. “We are? Is that what Dad said?”
Tom looked at her, puzzled. “Yeah. He didn’t say?”
She shook her head. Her father had either forgotten, or had he decided to keep it as another surprise for her.
Four
The silence in the living room was haunted with old songs, old voices that invoked laughter, sorrow, and spurts of temper that every family experienced. At the moment, it was the old songs that drifted around Kate, and they nearly overwhelmed her. Her breath tightened, the reasons for her decision to stay away so clearly evident at this moment.
Phil leaned back against the dining room chair, a mandolin propped up on his lap. He caught Kate’s gaze and winked at her across the living room. She gave him a wan smile. She’d chosen the seat in the far corner on the small occasional chair covered in the old faded print she remembered from her childhood. It seemed a safe bet, away from everyone’s scrutiny. She had immediately ruled out sitting at the piano set against the back wall, where she’d be out of eyesight of at least half of the group, because that would suggest things she didn’t want them to think. She’d been unsurprised that Tom had no such reluctance and promptly took the piano bench and had subsequently banged out an accompaniment or two for the songs that had already been sung.
Stokey had taken one of the chintz-covered armchairs, abandoning his drums for a banjo that gave the whole sound a bit more country type of feel. Simon was in the other armchair, while her dad, sitting on the darkly upholstered high-backed sofa, had his old Martin guitar in his lap and Tom’s Gibson at his feet by the side of the sofa. Tamzin had taken the seat beside him on the sofa, where she tapped her foot and sang along when she knew the words, or when she didn’t, added some kind of dah de dah. Her voice was strong, almost strident, but at least she was on key. The fact that Ethan had chosen to carefully squeeze his dining room chair on the other side of the room, near Kate and away from the sofa, made her wonder if he had experience with Tamzin’s forceful voice. It would explain Phil’s wink, deployed just after they’d concluded Seals and Crofts’ “Summer Breeze”sung by Phil, harmonies courtesy of Ethan, her dad, Tom, Simon, a faint Kate, and a distinctive-sounding Tamzin. Kate had dropped out when she’d seen Tom nod at Tamzin encouragingly after the first chorus. It had caused Stokey to grin, but her father and Ethan had been hard to read. And Phil, until possibly this wink in her direction.
“Okay, you two,” her father said, looking first at her and then Tom. “Time for ‘Our House.’”
Kate shook her head. “Tom can do the main bits. I’ll just harmonize along with the rest of you.”
“‘Our House’?” said Tamzin.
“Yeah, you know,” said Tom. “The Crosby, Stills and Nash song.”
“Oh, yeah, that.”
Kate hid a smile. The tone and the hesitancy told her all she needed to know about Tamzin’s knowledge of the song.
