The Accidentals(72)

“You almost said, ‘a beer,’ didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I don’t know any other musicians who are too young to drink.”

I flick my eyes to Norah. I’m still surfing on a killer wave of adrenaline. I don’t think I can sit down with Frederick’s girlfriend tonight. “Well, I have a quiz tomorrow,” I hedge. “And my friends are waiting. Can we go this weekend instead?”

“Of course,” Frederick agrees. “We can do dinner.”

We walk outside. Norah hangs back, probably so that I can say goodbye to my father. “Thank you for coming.” I feel Jake and Aurora watching me from the corner. I’d imagined introducing Jake to Frederick tonight, but now I feel too depleted.

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”

“Dad?”

His face changes with a soft kind of surprise. I’ve never called him that before. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

He puts his hands in his pockets. “Music is supposed to be moving. Mission accomplished.”

“Yes, but…” I chose it to make you feel guilty.

“But nothing. I didn’t know you could sing like that. I’ve been kicking myself for nine months over all the things I stole from you. It never occurred to me that being my child might give you anything you could use.”

I stare up at him. Seriously? He’s the only man alive who could find some way to flatter himself in the face of my lyrical indictment.

“Uh, well… Then will you teach me how to play the guitar?” There, I’ve finally asked.

“Heck, yeah!” he says, hugging me again. “I love that idea. We’ll start next week.”

I let him hold me for as long as I dare, and then I run off to join my friends.





Chapter Twenty-Four





“Okay, now stretch that third finger onto the low E string.”

I stretch. Or at least, I try.

Frederick and I are sitting on Norah’s sofa, in her cute little house on Maple Street.

“I’ve finally left the Inn,” Frederick had told me over the phone. “I’m staying with Norah.”

“Well, that’s one way to solve your real estate woes.” There’s a joke in there somewhere about what a full-service brokerage Norah works for. I hadn’t gone there.

When I’d knocked on the old wooden door today, it was Norah who answered. “Hi,” she’d said. “I’m on my way out to show a condo, but make yourself at home. There’s soda in the fridge.”

“Thanks.” Norah’s house is little and pretty, with a carved wooden mantelpiece and stained glass. “I like your windows,” I’d offered, looking for something to say.

“They’re original to the house,” she’d said. “I love antiques.”

Then Frederick came out of the kitchen, and Norah laid a hand on his chest. “I’ll see you for dinner?”

“Absolutely.” He gave her a kiss, and I looked away.

Now it’s just Frederick and I, and I’m learning that my fingers on Frederick’s guitar are almost as awkward as those first few moments in Norah’s house.

“Who invented this thing? Why are their six strings, when I only have five fingers?”

“Aliens, duh. Now switch back to D7,” my father coaches. “Yes! Now try for G again…”

Unable to quickly cram my fingers into position, I flub the G chord. “Damn.”

“You’ll get it. Just takes some practice.”

But I don’t believe him. I’d had this foolish idea that Frederick’s daughter wouldn’t have trouble playing her first G chord. And yet here I am, smashing my fingers together on the frets. Then I strum softly.

“That’s right, except…” Frederick reaches down and strums again, hard. And the chord echoes throughout the room. “Got to hear you, whether it’s right or wrong. If you’re going to make a mistake, make it loud.”

“Okay.” I check my fancy watch. I always wear my birthday present on the days I’m going to see him. “I have Spanish in half an hour.”

“All right.” He takes the guitar into his own lap and strums it absently. “There’s two things I want to talk to you about, though. Do you have just a couple more minutes?”

“Sure.”

“The first one is easy. I’m playing a music festival in Quebec next weekend. Do you want to come?”

“Sure I do.” Yes, yes! I’m flailing inside. Finally.

“There will be some boring parts. I’ll have to make nice with some industry people. But you can watch the concert, and there’s a party after.”

“Okay. Done. What’s the other thing?”

“Well, that one’s a little more complicated.” He stops playing. “There’s going to be a baby.”

“What?” Did he just say baby?

“Norah and I are going to have a baby. In October.”

I feel suddenly dizzy. “I thought you just met her.”

He strokes his chin. “It depends on your point of view. We’ve been together since the fall. But also, Rachel, we’re old. After you turn forty, it’s like dog years.”