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I was surprised to see him sitting on the steps of his house, his head down as he played, his foot lightly tapping on a stair. Norman sat next to him, his tail wagging.
As I listened, I focused on the emotions I heard in the music, feeling the yearning, the anguish, the hope, the plea. It was as if my heart recognized the melody but my mind couldn’t find the lyrics to go along with it.
Just when I began to realize that this might be an original song of his, I heard Sam’s voice, that slightly raspy, altogether entrancing voice, as he began to sing.
Count me out, I’m out of luck
Count me out, I’m out of love
A broken heart, a quiet life
Until you walked in
Until you walked in
I could barely breathe, caught in the movement of the song, the growing crescendo of that last line. I nearly burst into tears as he sang, his voice cracking and aching—almost crying. Then his voice dropped on the next line, almost to a whisper.
Saying let it ride, let it ride
The crescendo built again, his voice growing stronger, the ache replaced with a sense of wonder.
Count me in, I’m in luck again
Count me in, I found love again
A mended heart that can hear again
Because you walked in
You walked in
He held the last note, letting it drift into the night between us. Then his head lifted, and he looked toward my bedroom window, even though I didn’t think he could see me.
“What do you say, Ava? Will you take a chance on me and let what we’ve been building over the last couple of weeks ride? See where life takes us?”
Tears spilled down my cheeks as what he sang and what he said sank deeply into my soul. It took me a second to gather my senses, then I rushed out of my room, down the stairs, and flung open the front door.
Across the street, he stood and set his guitar on the porch. We stared at each other a moment before I smiled, dashed down the steps, and ran toward him.
He met me in the middle of the street, arms wide, and I threw myself at him, holding him tight.
He smelled of hazelnut and citrus, deep woods and love.
Normanquabarked as he ran around us, and just over Sam’sshoulder, near those pink pylons, I spotted an iridescent butterfly glowing brightly, like a flash of sunlight. As if it knew I had seen it, it burst into a glittery cloud like a pearly firework, its sparkles slowly giving way to the darkness.
In my head, I heard Dez telling me how butterflies represented new beginnings and transformation. And then I heard Estrelle telling me that until I stopped looking behind me and letting fear hold me back, that the butterfly wouldn’t be able to fly free.
And suddenly I knew.
The butterfly representedme.
I’d learned to love myself, the old meandthe new one, too. I’d learned to stop being so scared all the time.
I’d learned to fly.
“Count me in,” I said to Sam, my voice breaking. “Count me in.”
CHAPTER 28AVA
