Page 43 of Bewitched By the Siren
“I didn’t know she could play the guitar,” I breathe to myself, but Natasha hears me.
“Most songwriters can,” she says. “Well, either that or piano.”
We watch as Hali moves toward the microphone, lowering its height and pulling a stool over so she can sit. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then looks at me through the glass before turning her attention to Natasha and nodding.
“Okay, Hali,” Natasha says, her mouth close to a small microphone, “this is just for you, so don’t worry if you make a mistake or want to start again. And try to have fun.”
Hali nods, her face tight with nerves, then the sound of her clearing her throat echoes through the speakers. Natasha hits a button and points at Hali through the glass, and my little songbird takes another deep breath, faces the microphone, and starts to play.
The tune is one I haven’t heard before, so it must be one of her originals. Her eyes drift closed as she plays a few bars, and when the intro comes to a natural end, she opens her mouth and starts to sing. I’m swept up in the same feeling I had in that crowded bar last weekend as her beautiful voice curls around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
I feel tingly all over, my muscles ticking with the need to go to her. To stride into that small booth and pull her into my arms. To hold her tightly and never let go.
“Holy shit,” Natasha murmurs, drawing out the syllables.
Somehow, I pull my gaze away from Hali to meet Natasha’s eyes. “I know, right?”
We both fall silent then, letting the magic of Hali’s sweet voice hypnotize us until the final strain of music dies away.When neither of us moves or speaks, Hali swallows thickly and clears her throat.
“Was that okay?” echoes through the speakers, and just like when she sang, my heartrate flutters, an invisible string pulling me toward her.
“That was perfect, Hali. Do you have anymore songs? I figured we could record three, and then we could have some lunch in here while I clean up the tracks and save them to a thumb drive for you,” Natasha says through her own microphone.
“Sounds good,” Hali says, her eyes darting toward me.
At her questioning gaze, I shoot her an encouraging smile and say, “Sounds perfect.”
Natasha and I watch as Hali sings two more songs, each one more emotion-evoking than the last. By the time she finishes, Natasha and I are just left there, staring at each other in awe. She tells Hali we got what we needed then flips the microphone off before meeting my gaze.
“She’s seriously good. I can see why you want to sign her so badly,” she whispers.
“I do,” I say, then press my lips together before adding, “but today wasn’t really about that. It was about showing Hali what she’s capable of. Even if she doesn’t sign with me, I want her to know just how amazing she is.”
Natasha nods, but before she can respond, Hali pushes through the door to join us, her fingers already clasping the golden chain and shell pendant around her neck. Natasha moves toward her, pulls her into her arms, and gives her a tight hug.
“That was amazing,” Natasha says as she releases Hali. “You’re an extremely talented artist, Hali Weston.”
“Thank you,” Hali murmurs, her cheeks tinged with pink.
There’s a knock on the door, and when Natasha calls out, an older woman walks in bearing a tray piled with sandwiches andbowls of chips. Natasha smiles at her as she sets the tray down on a table in the corner.
“Thank you, Helene. Hali, Brendan, this is Helene, my grandmother.” Before either of us can say a word, she adds, “She insists I call her by her name because she’s too young to be a granny, and she refuses to accept that I can make my own meals.”
“That’s right,” the gray-haired woman says with a warm smile. “I take care of the ones I love. And I’m definitely too young to be a grandmother.”
Natasha rolls her eyes and shakes her head, then moves toward Helene to give her a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Helene shoos her away, then straightens the hem of her blouse and pats her hair before leaving the room.
“She can’t live alone, anymore. Bad hip,” Natasha says, grabbing a sandwich from the platter and setting it on one of the plates Helene provided. “My parents are gone, and she’s the only family I have left, so I forced her to move in with me. Even though she put up a fight, I could see it’s what she wanted. And despite my assurances, she feels like she has to earn her keep, or something. It’s so frustrating.”
I glance over at Hali, who’s staring thoughtfully at the closed door through which Helene left. Seeing the parallels between her situation and Natasha’s, I address Natasha while filling plates for both Hali and me.
“So, she lives here with you full time? What about when you go on tour?”
“She comes with me,” Natasha says with a heartfelt smile. “I have it in my contract that I record all my albums here and will only tour four months out of every calendar year with breaks in between. We fly from location to location and stay in the best hotels. Helene loves it, and the touring schedule isn’t too grueling for her.”
I look over at Hali, who still appears to be deep in thought. I let the subject drop, not wanting to pressure her, and we have a pleasant lunch while Natasha cuts the songs and downloads them onto a thumb drive for Hali. Handing it over, she turns back to her equipment and deletes all the files while Hali watches.
“Thank you for this,” Hali says, squeezing the plastic and metal device in her fist. “It’s been…amazing.”
