Making a Comeback (12 page)

“But is it bad different?”

Liz didn’t like Peggy’s tone, like she was talking to one of her kids. She wanted to snap back, but she couldn’t. She shook her head. No, it wasn’t bad different, just hard different.

“You have no idea what this is costing her.” Peggy’s expression was sad, like a sadness that had been there a long time.

Costing Jac? Serene? In her recliner? Unfazed?

“She never has guests in her home. People send requests to the blog all the time asking for help with albums.” Peggy fixed her with a look somewhere between pleading and accusing. “You’re the first one she’s invited in, the first one she’s agreed to help.”

Liz shivered in her wet T-shirt. She’d made assumptions about a woman she barely knew. A woman who’d been nothing but kind to her.

“She’s as invested in this album as you are.”

Her chest tightened. None of this was Jac’s fault. Her insights were pointedly accurate, and that was the problem. She didn’t want them to be. She wanted Teri’s beat to be strong and sure. She didn’t want to be the star. She shivered harder.

“Don’t walk out on her.”

Abandoned. Liz knew how that felt. The studio smelled of paint. Peggy’s creativity hung in the air, as potent as her emotionally powerful paintings stacked against the walls.

Peggy pointed to a canvas on an easel. “I thought this was going to be a simple little seascape, but it had other ideas. I wrestled with it all week, tried to make it what I saw in my head. This morning I just started painting and let it evolve through the brushes.”

“It’s beautiful.” She held Peggy’s gaze, absorbing the point and the kindness.

“Let’s take brunch down to Jac. You know how cranky she gets if her meals are late.”

Liz nodded, but her steps felt heavy as they walked to the kitchen. Did she have enough courage to do what needed to be done?

*

Jac’s arm fell uselessly to her side and her heart sank as the door closed behind Liz. Her scent lingered and she greedily inhaled the comforting smell. She had no agenda for the album other than helping it be the great album she knew it could be. Helping Liz reach her potential. It was a terrible dilemma for Liz. She admired her loyalty to Teri, but for the album to be its best Liz had to let go of the past that defined her. It was a lot to ask.

“Did I push too hard?” she asked Max. She returned to the recliner, warm from her body, and stroked him. This was her life. A good life she’d worked hard to build. She pressed play on the remote. A knock on the door. Peg with brunch. She’d lost her appetite.

“Is Liz all right?” she asked, opening the door to a bluster of cold air.

“No.”

Liz. She’d come back for her computer.

“Can we talk?” Resolve in her voice.

“Of course.” Liz’s courage pulled at her heart.

“Brunch,” Peg said, following Liz.

Jac turned the volume down and set the table, listening to Peg describe what she’d brought. She was hungry again.

“I’m sorry,” Jac said when Peg was gone and they were seated at the table. “I’m not doing this very well.” Her heart stopped for an instant when Liz covered her hand. She didn’t like being touched, but Liz’s touch felt strong and gentle, two qualities she felt sure Liz possessed. She liked the connection.

“You’re doing a great job. I’ve never met anyone with your feel for music.” Liz withdrew her hand. “Will you help me finish it? I won’t leave again.”

“Of course I will.” She filled her plate with pancakes and bacon and quiche for good measure.

“I’ve never been on my own musically. I think band, group, solos written around my musicians, but not me.”

“Ellington was a genius at highlighting his soloists, but he didn’t shy away from taking center stage. You’re not quite at his level.” Jac smiled and hoped Liz would, too. “But you’re close.”

“I’m not, but thank you for saying so.”

“You can build the future you want, but you have to take center stage.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“When you hear new music, are you always sure you can make it a workable composition?” Liz was silent. It was a big leap in her relationship with her music. “Don’t you trust your instincts?”

“The band’s dynamics will change.”

“The personnel might change, too.”

“Maybe I’m not up to it.” Fatigue and worry in her voice.

“And maybe you are.” They ate in silence for a while, surrounded by the sounds of rain and beautiful music.

“So we have five chosen.” Liz took their plates to the kitchen.

“You should put ‘Drum Roll’ on it. Teri’s solo is solid and riveting.”

“Agreed. Let’s listen to the best versions of the core program and pick four.”

One by one they listened to the songs and talked about them, and Jac felt like herself again in a way she hadn’t in a long time. Memories poked at her, accompanied by jabs of emotion, but she didn’t have time to think about the past. There was only the music and Liz. At three o’clock they made the last choice. She put the recliner upright and leaned forward, tears stinging her eyes. She always experienced that moment of letdown when a project was finished.

Liz put her hand on her shoulder. Squeezed. Let go. “I felt bad about bumping into you. I don’t any more. I’d like to give you credit on the album as co-producer.”

“Absolutely not. It’s yours. Yours and Teri’s. I’m honored to have helped.” An awkward silence descended. “It’s beautiful. So very beautiful. Can I have a CD of those songs?”

“I’ll go ask Peggy for a blank and burn it for you before I leave.” Liz walked to the door but didn’t open it. “Do you think I should have surgery?”

She thought before answering. Dishonesty seemed wrong. “If it were me I’d wait and see if it heals. Surgery isn’t foolproof.”

“Even with Monterey?”

“Worst case, if you have to cancel out of the festival, you’ll perform there again someday. Trust your instincts and think long-term.”

“Thank you for your honesty.” The door opened and then closed softly.

“Shall we brave it, buddy?” Max’s tail whacked the side of the recliner. The rain had stopped, and a walk would clear her head and chase away the memories threatening to escape the corners where they sat with sharp teeth. Other albums, but she’d never forget this one. Tomorrow life would be back to normal.

The door opened and Peg said, “Nobody goes anywhere until we’ve heard it. Roger has champagne waiting.”

Jac smiled and knelt by Max. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her cheek on the side of his head. This was one celebration she’d be glad to attend.

“I did my best, Dad.” How many times had Liz said that this morning? Teri would know how hard it was to choose the songs, and she’d approve. One of the million things was done. A few minutes and they’d be at the surgery center. She was nauseous even though she hadn’t eaten since last night. The celebration toast that turned into dinner. The memory of the fun evening made her smile in spite of the growing dread that was making her heart pound.

“Your core songs are less than half the album. You have to give your audience what they expect.” How many times had he said that this morning?

“I picked the best material.” It would be so much easier if she could tell him the woman behind
Jazz Notes
helped her, but Jac had staunchly refused. She flexed her fingers. No pain. No swelling. Were the ends of that bone knitting together? She slanted the heater vent toward her and stared out at the heavy gray sky.

“And only one that has Teri soloing. She’s showy. It’s a big part of your popularity.”

“I explained that.” What would happen when they gave her the anesthetic? Would it be like going to sleep?

“Maybe I should listen to the recordings.”

“I like it.” Peggy and Roger loved it. Hannah loved it. She hoped Teri would love it. She tapped on her leg to “Spring Time,” giving her trembling fingers something to do. Plate and screws. A shudder rolled up her back. “Are you sure surgery’s the right thing?”

“It’s the best option.” He looked at her and his eyes softened. “I’ll be right there the whole time. I scheduled an appointment Thursday with the physical therapist Dr. Russell recommended. When are you mixing?”

“I need to call Mark.” Liz yawned. She’d barely slept last night even with Hannah cuddled up to her, rubbing her back whenever she woke up.

“Shoot for Friday.”

“He’s probably booked out several weeks.” Her mouth was dry, but they’d told her not to drink after midnight.

“Give me his number. I’ll call while I’m waiting. If he can’t get us in sooner I’ll find another sound engineer.”

“Mark’s done all our albums.” Why were they talking about this today?

He pulled into a parking space. The building looked solid, like a sure thing. The best option. How had her life come down to best options? He put his arm over her shoulder as they walked toward the door, and she tried to absorb his certainty.

Inside, she sat and he brought her papers to sign. She smelled coffee and it made her want to be in Carmel, sipping coffee, nibbling a warm chocolate croissant. Her phone rang and she took it from her purse. An 8-3-1 area code, but she didn’t recognize the number. She answered it.

“I was thinking about you,” Jac said.

The tightness in her chest loosened a bit. “A friend,” she said to her dad and hurried outside.

“I listened to the CD again this morning. If you have any doubts about it, drop them. It’s beautiful.”

Liz closed her eyes and absorbed the comfort of Jac’s certainty. Just what she needed.

“I have some ideas for the order to put them in if you want to talk about it.”

“Yes. If we can get studio time, Dad wants to start mixing this week.”

After a long silence Jac said, “Busy week for you.”

“Have you ever had surgery?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to do it.” Her stomach hurt and the dread made her feel cold, the kind of cold where you’d never be warm again. “Everything’s happening too fast.”

“Trust your instincts, Liz, and think long-term.”

“They’re ready for you,” her dad said, holding the door open.

“I have to go.”

“Let me know the outcome.”

“Thanks for calling.” She clutched the phone to her chest. Trust her instincts. Was dread a normal reaction to surgery? Was she unreasonably scared because of what happened with Teri and her mom?

Her dad hugged her. “I’ll be right here, sunshine.”

She gave him her purse and followed the nurse through the door and down a hallway to a cubicle.

“Leave your clothes in the closet. Everything off, gown open in back.” The woman smiled as she held the curtain aside for her.

Liz’s hands shook as she traded her clothes for the flimsy blue gown. Her lungs sucked air in and out in shallow bursts as the dread became unbearable. I don’t want to do this…I don’t want to do this…Her whirling thoughts suddenly halted. Her eyes darted around the cubicle, but her focus was on the melody running through her head. The Carmel melody that she’d been getting bits and pieces of since the day she met Jac. Lots of it. She pulled in deep breaths and the dread backed off. How many times had a song come to her when she was trying to work out the answer to something? She trusted music. She trusted her instincts. She looked at her hand as she moved her fingers. It would heal. Dressed, she threw the curtain aside and hurried down the hallway.

“I’m not doing it.”

Her dad looked up from his crossword puzzle, and his face went from surprise to tight-lipped disapproval.

She bolted out the door into the rain and blustery wind and headed toward the car.

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he said, catching up and stepping in front of her. He put his hands on her shoulders. “I know you’re scared, but this is the best option.”

“I want to give it a chance to heal on its own.” Long-term. If it didn’t, then she’d have the surgery. She didn’t want an arm with a plate and screws in it. She held it against her stomach. It would heal.

“Everything we’ve worked for is at stake.” His hair flew about in the wind, and his brows were pulled so tight they almost touched.

“I know.” She was betting her career and her future on a healing process she didn’t understand. Music she understood. It couldn’t be seen on an X-ray, but it was all she knew and she trusted it.

“This is our last shot, sunshine.” He sounded almost desperate. “I want you to have your dream.”

“I know.” The melody returned, cheerful and insistent, and she let it be the good omen she needed. His expression changed from confusion to disappointment tinged with annoyance. He’d looked at Hannah many times with that expression. It hurt.

His jaw worked the whole drive home, and several times he shook his head. She kept her attention on the CD. Yes, she liked it.

“This is a mistake,” he said as he pulled into his driveway. He kept the engine running. “Surgery’s the best option.”

“Doctors aren’t always right.” Finally he turned off the engine. “I’m going back to Carmel.” A chance to rest up before the crazy last half of the semester, before the weeks of mixing the CD. Walks on the beach, working out the order of the CD with Jac, maybe helping Peggy in her garden.

“What about mixing?” He was frowning again.

Couldn’t they catch their breath for a minute and celebrate that the songs were picked before rushing to the next thing? “I’ll call Mark.”

“Tell him if he can’t—”

“I’ll take care of it, Dad.” If she hurried she could get to Carmel in time to walk with Jac.

“I’ve been researching band websites. I have some ideas on how to make ours really eye-catching. It’s our most important publicity tool.”

“I barely know how to manage this one.”

“I’ll do it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“We’re in this together, sunshine.”

Liz hugged him and went to her car. He was standing with his arms crossed as she pulled away. She hit the callback icon as she headed toward her condo to pack. Ten days in Carmel. Exactly what she needed. “I’m not doing surgery,” she said when Jac answered.

“Good decision.”

Her chest loosened and she clung to Jac’s approval. “I’m coming back to Carmel. Can I walk with you?”