ryder
I’d have been lesssurprised to learn we were here to rob the place at gunpoint than I am to learn Felicity has a royal country music pedigree.
Bethany Hayes is her grandmother.
That’s akin to having Johnny Cash as a great uncle or Hank Williams as your stepdad or Willie Nelson as your next-door neighbor. The woman is a legend. That signed Gibson hanging over her bed is worth at least a hundred grand. Maybe more, if it ever goes to auction.
So why is her granddaughter working in a bar, living out of a glorified storage room?
I hang back as Felicity walks into the sunny common area, smiling at the elderly patients clustered here and there around the room. Her pretty sundress swishes around her legs with each step. She’s distractingly gorgeous today with her hair tumbling down around her shoulders in soft waves, wild and free from the confines of its regular braid. It almost hurts to look at her directly.
Are you salivating over how beautiful I am again?she teased me, back in the van.
Considering I’d almost driven us off the damn road when I saw her sucking sugar off her finger, that would be ayes. Afuck yes, actually.
I watch her slide onto the piano bench beside Bethany, a gentle smile on her lips. The music comes to a halt as the old woman glances up. I wait for the moment of recognition. The typical hug of reunion between grandparent and grandchild.
It never comes.
Instead, I watch Felicity ask a question I can’t make out from this distance. Whatever she says, Bethany seems to agree, because a second later they both lay their fingertips against the keys. Seamlessly, as if it’s a duet they’ve been rehearsing all day, they begin to play together. The music is lovely, but all seems rather…cordial.
Then again, what do I know? My grandmother was a grammar school teacher, not a superstar.
I sink slowly into a chair by the window, not wanting to intrude on their moment. A passing nurse peeks her head in and pauses, equally captivated by the sight of the two women at the piano.
“Always great to see Bethany smiling,” she murmurs. “Y’all are lucky you came on a good day. She’s not lucid, of course, but she’s in a cheerful mood. Music is just about the only thing that reaches her, anymore.”
“Oh—” I try interrupt her, to tell her I have no business hearing this, but she talks over me.
“Terrible she doesn’t even recognize her own family anymore. Just terrible.” Atsknoise slips from her mouth. “It’s good of y’all to visit, though. It’s been ages since anyone came. And she may not recognize her granddaughter, but she knows she’s someone important. You can tell by the way she looks at her, see?”
I glance over at the two woman on the piano bench, my heart clenching as they pluck out the halting notes of a familiar song. It takes me a minute to place it, but I finally recognize the melody —I Fall to Piecesby Patsy Cline.
“Yeah,” I manage to grunt out, feeling like I’ve been kicked in the stomach with a steel-toed boot. “I see that.”
The nurse sighs lightly. “Give a holler if you need anything, okay?”
With a squeak of sneakers against the tile, she vanishes down the hall.
My eyes move back to Felicity. I thought bringing her here might answer some of my questions, but I find I’m brimming over with more than ever before. The desire to know this girl, to solve the mystery of Felicity, is beginning to consume my every waking thought. She’s been on my mind so constantly since the other night, I’ve been driven half-mad by it. When I spotted her sitting at that bus stop earlier, I almost thought I was hallucinating — conjuring up a vision of the person I most wanted to see.
I’m not sure why I care so much. I just know that I do. Some switch inside me has been thrown and, no matter how much I hate it, I can’t seem to switch it back.
Are we friends?she asked me, looking so young and unguarded it damn near killed me.
I wanted to say no.Hell no.I don’t want to be her friend. I want to tear that sundress to shreds and explore every curve that lies underneath. But a nagging voice reminds me of my impending departure to LA.
Leave her alone.
You’ll only hurt her.
She’s been hurt enough.
I realize I’ve been staring at her quite forcefully when she glances over her shoulder at me and quirks an amused brow. Before I can look away, she waves me over. I crack open the case at my feet and pull out her guitar. It looks a little tired, the strings brittle and worn from too much use, but it’ll do. I make some minor tuning adjustments as I cross the room to stand beside the piano. I wait for the bridge to join in, picking out the chords by ear.
Bethany glances over at the sound, smiling wide. There’s a streak of red lipstick on her pearly-white dentures. I catch Felicity’s eyes and hold them as the three of us find our rhythm. Bethany sings the final verse, her voice shaky and thin, but still beautiful in its way.
“You tell me to find someone else to love… Someone who love me too…”