Page 28 of Blue Umbrella Sky
“Yeah. Believe it or not, you’ve become so special to me, I’ve been postponing my life because of you, hoping you’d come to your senses and see what a catch you have right before you. Joke! I know I have more baggage than the lost and found at O’Hare.” Billy shrugged. “But I know I have some good points. I try not to sell myself short.
“And hey, I don’t want to be a cashier at Trader Joe’s for the rest of my life. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” He snickered. “But my name is Billy Blue. It’s my real name! It belongs up in lights, on an iTunes playlist maybe, someone they gossip about inPeoplemagazine. Besides having a name, I can sing. I really can.”
There was a long pause, yet the air hummed with tension, with expectancy.
Billy drew in a big breath. And when he let it out, he sang:
“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
“That saved a wretch like me.
“I once was lost, but now I’m found.
“Was blind, but now I see.”
Billy looked down at the sandy, pebbled dust at his feet, rubbing the toe of his left hiking boot in it. Milt was stunned to see the shine in his eyes. Tears?
Billy’s singing voice was a rasp, but a velvet rasp that pierced the heart, penetrated both mind and soul. His was a gorgeous voice. Milt wanted to hear more, and he didn’t. “Amazing Grace” was a surprising choice. Intuitive. Had he mentioned that Corky used to sing it at church? Corky’s rendition was different, with his deep baritone, but just as stirring.
Hearing the same song, even just a piece of it, through two different instruments, voices, was eye-opening to Milt.
He found he could appreciate both. And there was no need to compare.
“You really can. Sing, I mean. Your voice is beautiful. Why that song, though?”
Billy looked up, smiled. “Ever since I’ve been in recovery, it’s kind of been my song. See, Milt, when I was a drunk, I didn’t think much of myself. I sure as shit had nothing or nobody to live for. Amazing grace is what we in the program call a higher power.” Billy nodded, as though assuring himself of the truth of his words.
“For a long time, I’ve been coasting along on amazing grace, not quite lost but not quite found.”
Billy peered into Milt’s eyes, his blue-eyed gaze intense. “But now I see.”
The gaze was too much for Milt. It hurt. He could see everything in it—Billy’s attraction to him, his vulnerability, his simple need.
He wanted to give in. He wanted to be the grantor of a wish.
But.
But.
He didn’t know.
It still felt like a betrayal.
And so he mustered up what he thought was all his will, all his courage. He mustered up his fierce loyalty for Corky, the man to whom he’d once pledged his heart forever—until death do them part.
And he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled for Ruby, who came bounding down the mountain. She’d learned well that high-pitched, piercing sound meant business.
“We’re gonna go home now, okay?” It was hard for Milt to get the words out. His heart was clogged with disappointment and regret. Yet he felt he was doing the right thing.
Billy held out a hand, beseeching. “Just try, Milt. One dinner. Some gnocchi and marinara. I know a great place.”
“Stop. Please.” And Milt turned away because he couldn’t bear to look at Billy. He started down the mountain, with Ruby leading the now-familiar way on the trail.
He didn’t look back.
Chapter 11
WHEN HEgot home, Milt threw Corky’s orange mug in the trash.
