Читать книгу A Song For Rory - Cerella Sechrist - Страница 11

CHAPTER THREE

SAWYER SHOWED UP at Callahan’s the next afternoon with a bouquet of flowers—purple freesias, Rory’s favorite—and a stack of autographed CDs for the restaurant staff. He felt a tingle of anticipation as he stepped toward the restaurant door, catching a brief reflection of himself in the windows. He’d chosen a casual, white button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows, and he was wearing a faded pair of jeans. He’d ditched the baseball hat from yesterday, but he did wear a pair of sunglasses, both to combat the late-afternoon light and to hopefully stem any recognition as he walked into Connor’s establishment.

Fortunately for him, business was apparently slow this time of day, and he only glimpsed a few tables with patrons. He saw several servers moving around, though, probably preparing for the dinner rush. He approached the hostess stand and found the same young woman from the day before. She was speaking with another woman, petite and curvaceous with blond hair. She held a stack of menus in her hand, and he couldn’t help noticing the ring she wore. A claddagh ring, on her left hand. The two women turned as he stepped up to the podium.

Even with the sunglasses, the younger one from yesterday recognized him.

“Oh! It’s you!”

He smiled for her as he removed his shades. “It’s me,” he agreed.

The second woman cocked her head, as though trying to place him. He’d seen that look before, on the streets and at airports or at coffee shops, and even the grocery store. It was the look people got when they thought he was familiar but couldn’t quite believe he was someone famous.

“I’m Vanessa.” The younger woman held out a hand.

He shifted the CDs and flowers into one arm to respond to her handshake. “Nice to officially meet you, Vanessa. I’m—”

“Sawyer Landry. Of course you are.” She let her hand linger in his until he withdrew.

He slid a glance in the other woman’s direction and caught her frowning at him.

“Vanessa, can you take these into the back?” She shifted the stack of menus neatly into Vanessa’s arms.

“Oh, but Harper...can’t I stay here?” She looked from the blonde to him, and back again, obviously conveying some sort of coded message.

The one named Harper shook her head. “No, I think I’d better handle this.”

Sawyer steeled himself. Harper may have looked sweet and pleasant, but he had the feeling she was a formidable gatekeeper. He wondered if Rory had actually put her in place to keep him away. But why invite him back to the restaurant if she didn’t want to see him? Maybe just to get him off her back temporarily. The thought filled him with dismay. He’d been looking forward to this for the last twenty-four hours.

As Vanessa walked away with the menus in hand, Harper turned to face him.

“We haven’t met,” she began. “I’m Harper Worth, Connor’s fiancée.”

Sawyer’s eyebrows lifted. “Connor’s fiancée? Sorry, I didn’t realize he was engaged.”

She smiled, and he had the sense she couldn’t help it. She seemed excited about her role as Connor’s bride-to-be.

“I’m Sawyer Landry,” he belatedly offered.

“I know. Even if I didn’t recognize you from your music, I’ve seen photos from when you grew up around here.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Just how much did Harper know about him? How much had Rory shared?

He held up the CDs. “I brought these for some of the staff. One of the servers—I think her name was Dani—asked for an autograph yesterday. I promised I’d bring some albums by. Can you make sure she gets one of them?”

“Of course.” Harper took the CDs from his hand, her gaze darting to the flowers though she didn’t comment on them. “That’s very nice of you. You have several fans here, so I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment, and then the two of them fell into an awkward silence.

“Um, did Rory tell you I was coming?”

Harper cocked her head. “No. Was she supposed to?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. There wasn’t a reason for her to inform Harper he’d be stopping by. After all, she’d said they could talk on her break since it wouldn’t interrupt her work. But then, this woman was going to be her sister-in-law. Wasn’t that the kind of thing sisters shared with each other? He’d only ever had a brother, so he’d never had a chance to observe a lot of sisterly interactions. And he supposed it was different between sisters and sisters-in-law anyway. He cleared his throat.

“Rory and I made plans. She said to stop by around this time—that she’d probably be getting a break before the dinner rush. Is she available?” He shifted the freesias from one hand to the other, feeling increasingly awkward under Harper’s steady scrutiny. He could only imagine how Connor had railed about him to her. He doubted Rory’s brother had given the best impression. He again wondered what, if anything, Rory had said to her.

Harper hesitated, and he had the sense bad news was coming.

“I’m sorry, but Rory isn’t working today.”

He frowned in confusion. “Was there a last-minute schedule change or something?”

She shook her head. “No, there have been no changes to the schedule, at least none involving Rory, this week.”

Had she forgotten he was dropping by? Or had she simply gotten her schedule confused? Maybe she didn’t have his number anymore, to let him know plans had changed.

“In fact, she never works on Fridays,” Harper went on. “She has a standing gig at the Lighthouse Café on Friday nights, so she’s always off those days.”

Sawyer’s face heated. Rory wasn’t the forgetful sort. If she’d told him to come by today, on a day she never worked, she’d done it on purpose. She’d stood him up.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I must have gotten the day wrong then.”

Harper looked at him with pity, seeing through his lame excuse, and that only served to stoke his frustration. Okay, so maybe he’d deserved this little trick on Rory’s part. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t due some payback. But he was still embarrassed and disappointed. He’d thought there’d been a crack in the wall she’d erected between them, but he realized now that her defenses were still solidly in place. Well, round two to Rory. That didn’t mean he was giving up. If she wanted to play hard-to-get, he’d just have to step up his game.

“Wait. Did you say she’s playing at the Lighthouse tonight?”

Harper hesitated, and he wondered if she hadn’t meant to give up that bit of information. But then, he thought he saw a sparkle in her eyes, just before she lowered her face from view.

“Did I? Oh, well, everyone around here knows that Rory plays there on Friday nights. She goes on at the same time every week. Eight o’clock sharp. Anyone in town could have told you that.”

Harper wasn’t looking at him. She was studiously swiping at the hostess podium, as if brushing away dust, but it was obviously already clean. He had the feeling Harper Worth was on his side for some reason. He grinned even though she hadn’t looked at him.

“That’s handy information, Miss Worth.”

She glanced up. “Please, call me Harper.”

“Harper,” he said, “it was a pleasure to meet you. Connor is clearly a lucky man.”

She smiled broadly at the compliment.

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again soon,” she offered.

The words gave him hope. Whatever Rory had or hadn’t shared with her future sister-in-law, he seemed to have Harper’s stamp of approval—at least to attempt winning Rory back.

He considered the freesias in his hand. Rory had never been much of the chocolate-and-flowers type. Showing up with them might only make it look as though he didn’t know her anymore.

But he did. He still knew her.

He held the flowers toward Harper.

“Why don’t you take these? My way of saying thanks for all your help.”

Harper looked as though she might protest, but he pushed them into her arms before she could say anything.

“Well, thank you.” She eyed him. “And if you don’t mind me saying so...good luck.”

He nodded.

Where Rory was concerned, he’d take all the luck he could get.

* * *

RORY SAT AT the coffee-shop counter, a half-finished glass of iced tea in front of her, and waited anxiously to take the stage. The Lighthouse Café was always busy on Friday nights, but this evening it was particularly packed. Every table, from one end of the room to the other, was filled with patrons. The sofas and love seats along the walls overflowed with customers of all ages, from teens to people in their thirties and forties, and even a couple she swore had to be approaching their eighties.

The crowd didn’t really bother her. Performing to ten was the same as performing to two hundred. Once she was onstage, she always experienced a rush of self-confidence. But something about tonight had her tied up in knots, and it had nothing to do with the audience.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Sawyer. She wondered if he’d stopped by the restaurant, like she’d told him to. The thought made her squirm with guilt. As much as Sawyer deserved a little payback, she didn’t really feel right about what she’d done. She wasn’t the vengeful type, and she’d never stood a guy up before. Then again, the only guy she’d ever really dated was Sawyer, unless she counted Bobby Hughes in fifth grade and that one guy she’d gone to dinner with last year. But a stolen kiss on the playground and a boring evening out didn’t come close to what she’d had with Sawyer. Still, she’d never been so coy before as to lead someone on.

Even if he was six feet tall with eyes that could turn her into a puddle with one look. She shook her head and took a swig of iced tea. Nope, don’t go there, Rory. Sawyer may have come back to town talking big about apologies, but it didn’t mean they’d pick up where they’d left off. How could they? They were different people now. Especially him.

“Rory, you all set?”

She shook off her reverie as Dave Ridgley addressed her from behind the counter. He was the owner of the café and hosted most of the Friday night performances. He’d been the one to approach Rory about playing at the Lighthouse. He’d seen her perform at the annual 4th of July celebration in town last year and asked if she’d be interested in a weekly gig at his newly established coffee shop in town. At first, she’d been hesitant. She hadn’t been doing much with her music since she and Sawyer split. But the invitation niggled at her until she agreed to a trial run, of sorts. Within the first month, not only did she have a solid following of friends and acquaintances coming to see her perform, but she also became hooked on the opportunity to play her music on a weekly basis. And over the last year, she’d gained quite a few fans who made the effort to come out every Friday and hear her sing. It was encouraging, and a boost to her ego, to realize she had enough talent on her own, without Sawyer, that people wanted to hear her music.

“Ready when you are, Dave,” she said and stood to follow him.

They stepped onto the stage together, and Rory grabbed her guitar from its stand as Dave tapped the mic. A few conversations continued, but most of the crowd turned their attention to the platform.

“Looks like we’ve got a full house tonight,” Dave began. “I’m guessing it’s not because you came to hear me sing.”

There were a few chuckles, and one guy near the front let out a heartfelt “boo.”

“All right, Jeremy, you’ve obviously had too much caffeine already. I’m cutting you off. No more espresso shots.”

More laughter rippled around the room, and Rory had to grin. It was soothing to be in such a familiar atmosphere. She’d spent most of her life playing one show after another in a line of bars, lounges, community events and weddings. There were a few places she and Sawyer would frequent, but it wasn’t like this. Playing in her hometown, week after week, gave her a sense of comfort and belonging.

“Well, if you’re not here for me, then maybe you all came out for this lovely lady.” Dave gestured in her direction, and the café erupted in cheers and applause. Rory was hard pressed not to blush at the enthusiastic response.

“I think that’s a yes,” Dave concluded. “Then let’s get this show on the road. Rory, you’re up.”

More cheering ensued as Rory stepped to the microphone, adjusting her guitar strap around her waist.

“Now that’s what I call a proper welcome,” she said into the mic. Jeremy let out a wolf whistle. “You really have had too much caffeine, haven’t you, Jeremy?”

He laughed, and the others in his vicinity joined him. Rory strummed her guitar, listening to make sure it was in tune. She made a minor adjustment and checked again.

Perfect.

“You’ve all been patient with me these last few months while I worked on some new songs. Well, tonight, your patience will be rewarded. I have something new for you.”

She waited while they clapped with excitement.

“I take it you’re ready to hear it?”

More cheers.

“Okay then.” She drew a breath and strummed a few notes before launching into the song.

I can’t help what I feel,

But I know that wounds heal.

And time is all it takes,

But right now it’s heartbreak...

Though she’d told herself she wasn’t going to think of Sawyer as she sang, her mind couldn’t help drifting to him. He was the inspiration for the lyrics, after all.

I’ve fallen in love with you,

And now I’m bleeding and bruised.

’Cause I let down my guard,

And I fell pretty hard...

The audience was rapt. She sensed it as well as saw it when her gaze swept the room. A few couples were wrapped in each other’s arms, and several others swayed to the music. A pair of teenagers even got up and started dancing. She was glad to see it was being received so well. It wasn’t exactly a happy song, but it had come from her heart—from the deepest part of her injured pride and wounded spirit.

She launched into the bridge and caught a few people brushing tears from their eyes. She kept going, into the final round of the chorus.

What else can I do?

I’ve fallen in love with you.

She strummed the final notes on her guitar and stepped back from the microphone as her audience launched to their feet, clapping and whistling in a standing ovation. She smiled and gave a tiny bow, pleased with the reaction and doubly grateful that she’d made it through the song without breaking down. She’d had more than one crying session when she wrote it, thinking about Sawyer and how much she missed him.

But then, as if the music had conjured him, her eyes drifted to the back of the room, and there he stood.

Sawyer was here.