“I had the best of intentions to be here just for her.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? You are here for her.”
“But I’m no longer herejustfor her.” His eyes bored into mine. “Being in Grand Orchard is doing something for me I never expected. You’re doing something for me. You’re filling in all these gaps in my soul I could never see before but always felt. Emptiness.When I’m with you, all the holes go away, and all I feel is complete.”
I was speechless, throat clogging with words and emotions I didn’t know how to speak. Feelings I normally would pour out onto a canvas in order to release them. Instead, I leaned in and devoured his lips, ignoring the fact that we weren’t alone. Ignoring the fact that Hannah might wake and see us. I didn’t know how else to explain to him that he was doing the same for me. Filling in the voids that had been there for years. Even before Darren had died, hiscontinual absences had littered the fabric of our marriage with cuts. And now, it was a sweet relief to find them finally disappearing.
???
When we got to Albany, we ate dinner at a sushi restaurant in a private back room so we weren’t besieged by fans. Brady got Hannah to eat three of the gyozas, and my soul continued to rejoice at how he was mending us with his persistence…with other emotions I was afraid to name.
After, Marco took us to the theater, leading us in the back door. The theater had been built in the 1930s and still held the golden glitz and glamour of that age. Art on the ceilings and walls. Red velvet curtains. Intricate railings and décor.
The colors and textures made my fingers itch for a canvas. It also made me feel underdressed in my T-shirt dress, jean jacket, and boots. Hannah looked slightly more appropriate with her top hat and intricately patterned maroon-and-gold shawl she had on over a pink dress.
Brady wasn’t any more dressed up than I was, though, and that had me relaxing. He did appear more like the famous Brady O’Neil tonight with his plaid shirt, a pair of expensive cowboy boots, and even a black cowboy hat. It was like he’d donned his musician role for the purposes of the concert. Maybe because he’d gotten the tickets by being Brady and not Cormac.
His attitude toward Hannah and me was the same. Caring. Smiling. Kind.
Hannah took in the stage with wide eyes, and Brady smiled down at her with tenderness.
“Have you ever played here?” Hannah asked him, turning from the railing we were seated up against to look at him.
He shook his head. “Nope. Maybe you’ll beat me to it.”
“Me?” Hannah looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you keep playing the piano the way you do, and I can imagine a whole host of people who would want to come and see you perform.”
I frowned a little. Brady saw my frown, and his smile stalled slightly. He added on, “Of course, you could decide by the age of ten that music isn’t your thing anymore, and that would totally be okay, too.”
Hannah sat on my lap as she considered what he said with a serious expression before replying, “I think I’ll play for a few more years at least.”
I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me, and Brady chuckled along.
The lights went down, ABBA came on, and I lost my daughter. She stared and smiled and sang and danced. She tuned the entire world out except the band and the stage. Brady and I could have disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and it wouldn’t have mattered. And I knew then that she would never walk away from music, just like I could never walk away from painting. Our art might have been different, but it was written into our DNA.
I leaned in and kissed Brady’s cheek. “Thank you,” I said, having to shout to be heard. He rubbed a finger along my face.
“I’d do anything for the two of you,” he said back. I wasn’t sure I could take it, the pure pleasure and joy rolling through me.
After the concert ended, we waited for it to clear out, and then Marco led us through the back again. Instead of heading out, we went toward the sound of voices and laughter coming from the green rooms.
We approached a small crowd with Agnetha Fältskog, Björn Ulvaeus, Benny Andersson, and Anni-Frid Lyngstad in the middle. Brady lifted Hannah into his arms so she could see better. We waited as the crowd around them chatted and got autographs. Hannah watched with a smile that grew and grew the closer we got to them.
By the time it was our turn, she looked like she’d seen a unicorn her smile was so glorious.
“Why if it isn’t Stevie Nicks in the flesh,” Agnetha said, grinning at my daughter.
Hannah giggled. “I’m Hannah, but Stevie is my all-time favorite singer ever.”
“I’m wounded,” Benny said with a hand to his heart.
“Thanks for getting us in,” Brady said, stretching out a hand to Benny who shook it.
“Anytime.”
The band handed Hannah a CD they’d all signed, ooh’d and ahh’d over her top hat, and then moved on to the next group. We made our way out of the theater to the waiting vehicles with Hannah clutching the CD to her chest like it was a magical lamp.
