Page 34 of Tracing Holland

I shrug.“I have no idea.I doubt it.”

She settles against me, still grasping my hand, and once again I marvel at the effect of her touch.“Wow.I guess that answers my questions about immigration and work visas.And why you’re so damn beautiful.”

I laugh.“You’re not even kidding about that are you.”

I can feel her grin.“Maybe.”Then she grows serious again.“Ok, so now you’re what, thirteen, fourteen?And in Houston with your aunt.Tell me about the music.”

“The music, huh.”

“It’s in you, Luke.Deeply embedded like no one I’ve ever met.I’ve seen it a couple times now.It takes my breath away.Do you not get what it does to people when they witness it?”

I stare at the palm trees lining the pool area as I consider her words, strangely touched, uneasy.“The music…” I repeat to myself.Facts I can do.

“Ok, well, I guess it started with my dad actually.He was a musician.He knew he was dying and gave me his guitar.He told me it was so that I’d take care of it, but I always knew it was supposed to be a lifeline for me to hold onto after he was gone.”I quiet, my chest getting heavy again.I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath.“He knew what would happen next,” I continue quietly.“He fought as hard as he could for as long as he could.Somehow, even as a kid I sensed he didn’t want to leave me alone with her.”I stop again.I can’t do any more with that part and draw in a ragged breath before I lose myself.I only agreed to facts.“Anyway, so yeah.It was just me and my guitar most days.When I was scared, lonely, hungry, in pain, Percy was always there, pulling my head back above water.I guess that’s where the music came from.”

“Percy?”she asks.I glance over at the wavering in her voice and now I’m certain I can see a glisten in her eyes.

I swallow and quickly look away.“Yeah, I named my guitar Percy.I have no idea why.It was my best friend, often my only one.Too important not to have a name, I guess.”

She nestles closer, and I can feel my own guard slipping.I’m not crying in front of her.It’s not going to happen.

“What?You’ve never named one of your instruments?”I ask before I get lost back in that horrible place.

She chuckles.“No, but I am now.I think my guitar would be Sam.”

I grin.“Sam?Boy Sam or girl Sam?”

“I don’t know.It doesn’t matter.That’s why I like Sam.”

“Ok, that’s fair.Sam it is.”

“Where’s Percy now?”she asks.

“In my room.”

She pulls away again, and I love the look on her face.“Really?You still have him?”

I laugh.“Of course.He goes with me everywhere.”

“I want to meet him!”she cries.

My eyes widen in disbelief.“What, like right now?”

“Yes!Right now!You need to introduce us.”She jumps up from the seat and moves toward the stairs.“Come on!”

It’s all so funny, so sweet, I can’t even argue with her.“Ok!Geez.I’m coming.”

She tosses a towel at me as I reach the deck, and this time doesn’t even pretend not to study me as I dry off.It’s fine.I’ve given up pretending I’m not captivated by her.

“God, you’re pretty much perfect, aren’t you,” she mutters, and I glance at her, then laugh.

“Um…did you not hear a word I just said?I’m a fucking disaster.”

She doesn’t smile, which surprises me.“Maybe, but we’re all disasters.Perfection is finding that one disaster that makes sense with yours.”

I don’t know what to do with that.She’s confusing me again with her maddening push and pull.“I thought we agreed my particular disaster wasn’t good for anyone.”

It comes out more bitter than I intended, but her “honesty” is starting to grate on me.We can’t be together.Got it.So then why are we still pretending?Why is she still sending these cryptic signals?And why the hell is she looking at me like she wants to shove me against the wall and rip my shorts off?My pulse is attacking my will again.

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