The Memory Keeper: A Heartwarming, Feel-Good Romance(15)

An older woman sitting with a small group at a table behind them groaned. “Marty, find me some music,” she shouted to the manager. When Hannah twisted around in her chair to view the woman, she told Hannah, “It’s my birthday.”

The manager acknowledged her with a friendly nod, before turning around nervously, his cell phone pressed against his ear.

“Happy birthday,” Hannah told the woman.

“Thank you,” the woman said, taking in a heavy gulp of air. “It’s the second year since my husband passed—he used to play here,” she explained, scooting her chair closer to Hannah, her gaze floating back up to the stage. “I know it’s nothing fancy, but it’s the only place to hear live music around here, and it helps me forget that he’s gone for a while.” The woman’s eyes glistened. She grabbed a napkin then excused herself.

Hannah turned to Liam and realized that the woman heading to the bathroom had his attention. The manager on stage dialed a number on his phone with a sigh. “I feel terrible for her,” Hannah said. “I wish we could do something.”

Liam nodded, looking pensive, a slight crease forming between his eyes.

“Why don’t you get up there and play like you used to at the bonfires when we were young?” she suggested in a whisper. “You’re amazing.”

“Oh… no.” He shook his head. “I don’t play anymore. I haven’t performed in years.”

His reply shocked her. “How come? You’re so talented.”

“I was a kid, Hannah,” he said gently. “I grew up.” He turned his attention to the empty stage, a distant look in his eyes.

The woman at the table behind them returned and took her seat, a few others filtering in.

“Oh, come on, Liam,” Georgia chimed in. “Now I’m curious. I cannot for the life of me picture you singin’ anything.”

“Why not?” he asked, the surprise at her comment causing a glimmer of humor in his eyes to take over.

“Because—with all due respect—you look like a banker.”

Liam threw his head back and laughed. “I do not.”

“Your hair could not be more perfectly combed if you tried. It rivals Clark Kent,” Georgia said. “And that is not the outfit of a rock star.”

Liam looked down at his jeans.

“His hairstyle is fine,” Hannah said, sticking up for him. “Although it was a little longer and messier when you were young.”

Liam ran his fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” the manager said into the microphone on the stage. “Looks like we won’t have any music tonight, folks.”

The woman behind them sniffled.

“Try, Liam,” Hannah pleaded. “Who cares if you’re rusty? That woman should have music for her birthday.”

He eyed the lone guitar on stage.

“Just a song or two,” she urged.

He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into this,” he said with a chuckle as he shrugged off his coat, pushed his chair back, and stood up.

Hannah broke out in an enormous smile and clapped her hands.

“Clark Kent saves the day,” Georgia teased.

“You haven’t heard him play. Maybe he’ll surprise us and turn into Superman,” Hannah added.

Liam didn’t respond to Hannah’s comment and made his way over to the manager. After a brief conversation, he grabbed the guitar and climbed onto the stool on stage, tilting the microphone down to his mouth and leaning into it.

“Uh,” his voice boomed around them. He cleared his throat. “I hear that the performer wasn’t able to be here tonight, so I’m filling in. I hope that’s okay.”

The room was silent.

Liam strummed the guitar uncomfortably, tuning it, and it was clear that he was reacquainting himself with the feel of it in his hands. He looked so different from the boy who’d played for her all those years ago. Hannah remembered sitting in the back of Ethan’s truck in the field where they used to gather as kids, her bare feet swinging above the wild tumbleweeds. At dusk, the boys would all drive their trucks there and drop the tailgates so the girls could have a place to sit. And when Liam showed up, all the girls’ heads would turn. He’d had an electric charge that had surrounded him wherever he went, a current that made people pay attention to him. She could still remember that particular night when he was sitting in the back of his truck, playing guitar. He’d looked her directly in the eyes when he sang, and she’d looked away, but she’d gotten a flutter like no other. She’d hoped he’d come and talk to her, but he never did.

“It’s someone’s birthday tonight,” Liam said from the stage as Rose set their salads onto the table. “So we can’t let her go home without a song or two.” He offered a friendly wink to the woman.

Hannah got up and moved her chair closer to the stage. The woman moved up too and set her chair beside Hannah’s. “I’m Daphne,” she said, holding out her hand. Hannah shook it and introduced herself. Daphne tipped her head toward Liam. “Is he any good?” she asked.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I think he’ll surprise you… and maybe himself.”

Liam began to strum the guitar, the notes taking shape, forming a melody. He hummed into the microphone, getting his bearings. “This is one I wrote myself,” he said.