Page 31 of Love is a Harmony
“Your family doesn’t know, do they?” She didn’t stop massaging his scalp. “I’ve been wondering where they are, but it hit me today. They haven’t been told their son is dead.”
Noah sat up, pulling away from her touch. He reached for his tiles and laid them on the board. “M. U. S. I. C.” It fit that music was his word. His nan used to say he and Carson saw music wherever they went. They’d always find it.
“Noah.” Melanie set her glass on the table. “Talk to me.”
“This isn’t something you can fix, Mel. My family. Me. We aren’t a PR scandal needing a diversion.”
“I know that.”
He wasn’t being fair to her, but he wasn’t used to people wanting to help him, to talk to him about more than his music, and he wasn’t sure he could take it. Pushing up off the ground, he collected his glass and walked back into the kitchen to pour another.
The red wine splashed as he dumped the remainder of the bottle into his glass and took a long drink. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head. “Guzzling is for beer, Noah. Wine is meant to be sipped, to be an ornament in your hand, a symbol of class.”
What about making him forget about dead brothers and grieving children?
What about being an escape from the woman who’d always seen too much, had too much faith in him?
He felt Melanie’s presence before turning to look at her. “Why, Mel? Why did you come? Why do you think I can do this? You’ve seen me at my worst time and again.” The scandals, the impulsiveness. It had been her job to clean up after him. “Why are you always here for me?”
Melanie stepped closer and took the glass from his hand, setting it on the counter. “Because, Noah, someone had to have faith in you. You surely didn’t.” Taking his hand, she guided him to the kitchen table. “Now, tell me about your family.”
His family. What did she want to know? That his dad was a workaholic who only showed up at home for important dinners where he wouldn’t have to talk to his children? That his mother gave the best parts of herself to her charities, leaving only the vain and bitter woman for her sons? That every moment of his home life had been lived under constant scrutiny and judgement.
Instead, he let someone else come to the front of his mind. “I have a nan.” He smiled, picturing her face. He’d missed her the most while in America. “She’s amazing, the only person with the courage to defy my parents. Carson and I were always in awe of her growing up. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized the reason she stood up for us wasn’t because she was courageous, it was because she loved us more than she feared them.”
Melanie smiled, reaching across the table to lay her hand over his. “She’s sounds great.”
Noah closed his eyes. She was. But Nan would be just as heartbroken as him over Carson’s death, and he hadn’t told her. He opened his eyes to find Melanie studying him.
Pushing out a breath, he pulled his hand away from hers. “When I inform my family one of their children is dead, this grief will no longer be about Carson. My mother will throw a lavish funeral where hundreds of people who knew nothing of Carson will attend. She’ll use his death for her own purposes.” He glanced toward Stella’s open door. “And she’ll use that girl. I’ll tell them, Mel, but you don’t know these people. I guess I just needed time to grieve my favorite person. But you’re right, they deserve to know.”
It was late, but if there was one thing he knew about his family, it was that they’d be awake. His dad normally got home around this time, and his mom always stayed up.
But when he stared down at his phone, it wasn’t either of them he wanted to talk to.
“I’ll give you some privacy.” Melanie stood. “I need to do a bit of work anyway.”
Noah wanted to tell her to stay, to lend him the strength she seemed to have in spades, but instead he nodded, watching as she disappeared into the guest room.
Noah tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear.
Nan answered on the second ring, her voice groggy. “Noah? You’re up early.”
“Hello, Nan.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not up early… I’m not in L.A.”
She hesitated before speaking. “Then, where are you? Still in London? If so, I’ll meet you for lunch tom—”
“I’m in France.”
“France? Since when do you go to France? I thought you weren’t doing any shows until Jo was ready.”
“I’m not here for a show, Nan.” His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to break right through it. The words sat like acid on the tip of his tongue.
“I’m an old dame, Noah. I don’t want to wait until I die to hear why you’re calling.”
“Nan.” He choked back a sob.
“I didn’t mean it, love. I’m not dying.”
