Page 57 of Holiday Star
He comes to me, placing a soft kiss on my temple, then leans his forehead against mine. “I wish I could have met him, too.”
When he steps away, he releases a heavy breath. “I’m worried I can’t do this. I’ve been saying other people’s lines for so long that I don’t have any of my own. I’m an actor. Not a singer. Not a songwriter. What if I fail? I’m not strong like you, Gwen.”
“I get it. You’re frightened. But guess what? I’m scared too. Every day when I walk into the Emergency Room, I’m scared. Every time I don’t hear from my family for a while, I’m scared that something bad has happened to them. I’m worried about losing them, the way I lost my dad.”
“But still you go on. You do the things that need to be done.” He looks at me as if he thinks I’m hiding some secret. Something that will magically make it okay for him to take a risk. To put himself out there. But I don’t have any special potion. Just some grief and a whole lot of stubbornness.
I shrug. “What other choice is there, Caleb? I know better than most people that we only get one life to live.”
He surprises me by leaning down and pressing his ear against my chest.
The gesture is so unexpected that I laugh. “What are you doing?”
When he straightens, he’s smiling. “Just like I thought. There’s a lion’s heart beating in there.”
Blushing, overcome by so many emotions I can’t name them all, I playfully shove him away.
One more grin for me, then Caleb sits down on the bed and unzips the case. With reverence, he brings the guitar out and gazes at it.
I wince when I see the shape it’s in. There are discolored, worn patches on the body, and a couple of frets are uneven. Heart aching, I run my fingers over the guitar’s imperfections, thinking about how upset my dad would be to see it in this condition. “Sorry, I didn’t know it is in such bad shape. Can you still play it?”
He looks over the damage carefully before responding. “It’ll be fine. At least this way, if a note is off, I can blame the instrument instead of my lack of skill.”
“No more stalling,” I chide. “And no more putting yourself down. You’re talented, Caleb. Everyone should hear it.”
I give him a kiss for encouragement.
He places the guitar on his knee and strums lightly. It takes a while for him to tune it, gently twanging and adjusting each string one by one until they all ring true.
He asks me, “What should I sing?”
I rock on my feet and say in a small voice, “What about my song?” I know it’s too much to ask. He’s never going to play that for me. But one corner of his mouth twitches up, giving me hope.
Cradling the guitar like a lover, he bends over it and strikes the first chord. His eyes squeezed shut, Caleb sings. His voice is just as I remember, deep and husky but rising up like morning dew from the grass, becoming higher and softer during the sweet parts of the song. I drop onto the bed, my legs suddenly unable to support me.
It’s only when he reaches the last chorus that Caleb opens his eyes and looks at me. Staring straight into my soul, he sings, “Never known anyone quite like you. No one’s ever known me quite so well.” The ending note hangs in the air between us.
Tears in my eyes, I burst into applause. Clapping so loud that my hands hurt. He sets the guitar on the ground, and I fly to him, clambering onto his lap. He laughs as I cover his face with a million kisses. “That was so good, Caleb,” I say between kisses. “So, so good.”
He kisses me back. “We’re so good, Gwen. It’s you. It’s us. That’s what’s good.”
33
Jenny has dragged me out of the house to do water aerobics. It’s only been an hour and already I’m missing Caleb. It seems wrong to be away from him, like I’ve lost an essential part of my own body, an arm or a leg. If this is how I feel now, when I go back to New York after Christmas it will be devastating.
I don’t want to think about that. This is time I’ve dedicated to spend with Jenny. I’m going to miss her just as much.
“How’s the research paper coming along?” she asks, treading water.
“Good. TheJournal of Emergency Medicineconfirmed they’ll put it in the summer issue.” My chest swells with pride. I did it. I’ll be a published author in a respected medical magazine. My goal for the month has been a success.
Jenny swims over to give me a too-tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, Gwen! That’s great.” She’s always been my biggest cheerleader.
“How about you? Any leads on interesting news articles for you to write?” I adjust a pair of goggles over my eyes, loosening the strap.
“How about the fact that my best friend is sleeping with America’s sweetheart?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
I shoot her a withering glare.
