Because You're Mine(2)

They stepped into the dressing room, and Alanna collapsed onto a silk-covered chair that had seen better days. The rest of the group filed in behind them and pushed through to the connecting room they shared—all except for Ciara. She was tuned to Alanna as if they were twins, though they couldn’t be more different, both in looks and background. Ciara wore her black, kinky hair in cornrows that accentuated her strong cheekbones, while Alanna’s red locks fell in a curtain of curls past her waist. Ciara never needed makeup on her beautiful dark skin, and Alanna was forever trying to cover the red splotches her fair skin developed when exposed to the smallest amount of sun.

“Sure, but I’m knackered. I’ll be sleeping till noon.” Ciara pointed her long finger at Alanna. “The doctor told you not to sing tonight.”

“I couldn’t disappoint all our fans,” Alanna said.

“It’s better than ruining your voice and never singing again.” Ciara waved her beringed hand. “You’re already picking up an American accent.”

Liam faced the open door, and a frown darkened his face. Alanna glanced around and saw their new manager, Barry Kavanagh, standing in the doorway. The blokes seemed determined to square off like two bulls. Their first manager had let Liam run things as he pleased, but Barry was more hands-on. His background as an attorney was probably to blame.

The man’s easy smile came as he stepped into the room. “I noticed your throat is troubling you, Alanna. I took the liberty of calling my doctor to come examine you. We can’t be too careful with our star.” The Southern accent in his words was almost a caress.

Alanna glimpsed a man in a black suit behind Barry. She nodded. “I’d be glad to have him look at it.”

The doctor unzipped a compartment in his rolling bag and extracted a light and a tongue depressor. “Say ah,” he ordered. Alanna complied and the doctor frowned. He stepped closer and pulled out a mirrored instrument. He peered deeper into her throat, then flipped off his light. “A bit of a sore throat. I’ll give you some medicine, and you should be fine for the weekend’s performance.”

Alanna’s hope surged. “You see no nodules?” Maybe the other doctor had been overly cautious.

“It’s just a little sore throat,” the doctor said, snapping shut his bag.

“That’s not what the specialist said.” Liam’s suspicious stare went from Barry to the doctor, then back. “She needs to rest her throat for a few months. She might even need surgery. I’m going to cancel the bookings.”

She clutched his arm. “Liam, you can’t! The venues are sold out. Sold out, love! Everything we’ve worked for, prayed for, is happening now. We might never regain our momentum.”

“Alanna is right,” Barry said. “Ceol could be the next Celtic Woman. They could be as big as Enya. We must capitalize on the group’s rising popularity.”

Liam crossed his arms, muscular from his workouts at the drums. “Not at the risk to Alanna’s throat.”

“We’ll be having three more concerts scheduled in the next week,” Ciara said. “Can she finish the tour and then take some time off?”

Liam shook his head. “Not if she wants a chance to avoid surgery. The specialist said she has to rest.”

Barry nodded and put his arm around Alanna. “My doctor says she’ll be fine.”

His proprietorial touch made her lean away just a bit. Alanna couldn’t think, couldn’t decide what to do. How could she stop now when the group was a shooting star? “You think the specialist was wrong?”

“You’d be believing a bloke like this?” Liam stabbed a finger in the doctor’s direction. “And get your hands off my wife.”

Barry’s smile dropped away and he removed his arm. Alanna glanced at Ciara and found her glaring at Barry as well. No one liked the way Barry seemed focused on her. She didn’t like it either, but the man was a marketing genius, and the group had soared to a new level under his management. They couldn’t afford to offend him.

Alanna touched her husband’s hand. “Liam, let’s talk about it privately.”

Liam’s jaw worked, then he glared at Barry. “This is our decision, not yours.”

Barry shrugged, then ushered the doctor toward the door. “I’ll leave you to discuss it.”

The moment he was gone, Ciara flipped her cornrows away from her face and scowled. “What an eejit. We’ll wait for you in the hall. You two can be hashing it out.”

Alanna didn’t ask if she meant Barry or the doctor. The band trooped out the door.

Liam shut the door behind them, then went to the keyboard and pulled out the chair. He settled in front of the keys and began to play.

“What’s that?” The haunting tune filled the room, evaporating her anger, lifting her spirits as she finally placed the melody. “It’s from my sister’s music box.” She stepped closer to him and laid her hand on his shoulder.

“It is.” He continued to play.

The melody with its pure passion sent chills down her spine. One of her clearest memories was of a music box her sister, Neila, had been given by their great-grandfather. Alanna never heard the melody anywhere else, though she’d never forgotten it and had picked it out on her fiddle the moment she learned to play.

Liam began to sing and Alanna gasped. “You wrote words for it.”