Page 101 of The Ballad of Us
“But what if I forget the words? What if my voice cracks? What if?—”
“What if you remember that you're a professional musician who's been performing for fifteen years and trust yourself to do what you do best?” Zep interrupts gently. “This isn't about technical perfection, brother. It's about meaning.”
Wyatt nods in agreement. “The song is about your journey together, and that includes your recovery, her patience, and the life you've created together. All of that is true whether you hit every note perfectly or not.”
“And,” Cody adds with a grin, “if you do mess up, it'll just make the moment more real. More human. Rhea loves your humanity, not your ability to perform flawlessly under pressure.”
Duke, who's been listening to our conversation from his spot on the couch, chooses that moment to walk over and rest his head on my leg with the kind of gentle pressure that somehow conveys complete confidence in my ability to not screw this up.
“Even Duke thinks you're overthinking this,” Parker observes.
“Duke is very wise. Okay, one more run-through. This time, focusing on Rhea.”
The final rehearsal feels different. Instead of tension, I let memories and emotion fill me. I remember why I wrote this song—the loneliness after Rhea left, the hope her calls gave me in rehab, and the joy that came with her saying she loved me again. Each feeling of loss, longing, and renewal moves through me as I play. My voice is rough with emotion, and my hands are shaking slightly on the guitar strings. But for the first time all week, the song feels exactly the way I wanted it to.
“That's it. That's the version she needs to hear,” Andrew comments from the couch.
“Think she'll say yes?” I ask, and despite everything— the ring, the planning, and the certainty that we're meant to be together, there's still a part of me that needs reassurance.
“Gray,” Zep packs up his guitar slowly, like something is weighing on his mind. “That woman stayed with you through addiction, left you when staying would have destroyed her, and then came back when you got healthy. If that's not a love worth creating a life together, I don't know what is.”
“She's going to say yes. Then we're going to play the most celebratory set of our lives,” Wyatt adds confidently.
“The village is going to lose its mind. Mrs. Patterson is probably going to cry. Mrs. Chen is definitely going to cry. Leslie might spontaneously combust from the sheer romance of it all,” Cody says with obvious delight.
Walking home, certainty begins settling in. There’s a new steadiness overtaking all the months of worry.
Thirty-Three
RHEA
As I step out of my front door, I'm greeted by the soft aroma of blooming wildflowers. Suddenly, I notice an odd, metallic clang echoing softly against the usual morning calm.
It's then that I find Mrs. Patterson standing outside Mountain Mornings with a clipboard and the determined expression of a woman on a mission. “Oh, good, you're early. We need to discuss tomorrow evening. Your input is important.”
“What input?” I ask, fumbling with my keys as Duke sniffs the lamp post.
“For the concert, dear. The village council voted last night, so now we're hosting a surprise acoustic concert in the square tomorrow at sunset. Local artists only, very intimate, just for residents.” She consults her clipboard with the seriousness of a general planning a military operation. “Emma's handling refreshments because she's always eager to help the community, Mrs. Chen is organizing seating since she wants everything in order for the guests, and I'm coordinating the technical requirements because I know how important the details are for everyone's enjoyment.”
I pause with my key halfway to the lock. “What concert? I didn't hear anything about the concert.”
“It was a last-minute decision. Jake Morrison suggested it during the council meeting, saying we needed more community events that highlight local talent.” Mrs. Patterson's eyes twinkle with poorly concealed mischief. “Case in Point agreed to perform, naturally.”
“Gray didn't mention anything about performing tomorrow.” I find it beyond odd that he wouldn’t tell me before Mrs. Patterson.
“Well, you know how modest he is. Probably didn't want to seem presumptuous about drawing a crowd.” She seems anxious to scurry off, looking over her shoulder like a woman on the run.
Gray is many things, but modest about his music isn't one of them. The idea that he agreed to a surprise concert without telling me sends a cold prickle down my spine. Unease blooms in my chest. Even small secrets can grow into misunderstandings and loneliness, and I promised myself I'd never stumble into that miserable place in our relationship again.
“When exactly did this council meeting happen?” I ask.
“Last night. Very spontaneous. Mrs. Chen called an emergency session to discuss spring tourism initiatives.” Mrs. Patterson is already backing away, clearly eager to escape further questioning. “I should run—so much to organize, so little time!”
Inside Mountain Mornings, I start my opening shift routine with growing suspicion. During the year I've lived here, the village council has never called an emergency meeting, let alone one about tourism initiatives. Mrs. Chen runs her bookstore with the precision of a Swiss watch, but she has never shown a particular interest in attracting new tourists or visitors.
When Emma arrives an hour later, she's practically vibrating with nervous energy, her cheeks flushed and her steps uneven. She’s carrying a notebook that she immediately tries to hide behind her back, as if it burns her hands.
“Morning! Beautiful day, isn’t it? Perfect for outdoor events.” Emma’s words rush out in one long sentence.
