Aileen's Song (3 page)

Their backs were to him, and they conversed quietly, alone for the time being. Except for his untimely arrival. Liam turned to leave, but stopped as he heard Aileen drop the fork against her plate with a bit more force than necessary.

“For example,” her mother continued, “you graduated with high honors from NYU. Wonderful, yes, but you buried yourself in books and theater production far more than you probably should have. Where was the adventure? Where was the fun? How did you stretch your wings? Then, you took two months to travel through Europe. What did you do there? You visited cathedrals. You prowled historical sites. No romances. No excitement. You kept to yourself—”

Liam tuned out the rest and took to the nearest exit so the remainder of their conversation could be conducted in private. It sounded to him like Aileen had undertaken a journey of solitude and self-discovery meant to figure out the road ahead. Not surprising, considering her character. Aileen would never be the type to embrace selfish distractions and the kind of recklessness abandon embraced by some college graduates. He gave her tremendous credit for that fact.

“Liam, come join us.”

When Aileen's mom issued the greeting, he froze on the steps leading away from the family room. Trapped, knowing he could no longer make a graceful exit, he turned and faced the two women. The expression on Aileen's face spoke volumes. She was mortified, and that crushed him, pulling forth all of his protective instincts.

However, a lash-flutter later, she absorbed that reaction, and discomfort was replaced by her innate grace and poise. He knew her well enough to recognize the drill. She moved beyond, and went into hiding. “Hello there.”

“Hey yourself.” He looked directly into Aileen's eyes, wishing he could somehow push a dose of self-assurance into her spirit and transfer the affection he felt straight into her heart.

Oblivious, Aileen's mom retrieved their two plates and stood. “I've barely had a chance to talk to you today, Liam. We'll have to catch up later. It's like old times, isn't it—with the house full of friends and family?”

“Even better, Mrs. Brewer. Some things improve with age.” He didn't relinquish Aileen's gaze, and his pointed comment softened the tension around those large eyes of hers, and eased a mouth that was full and perpetually curved into a smile.

Except for now.

Liam knew the story of Aileen Brewer. Nothing crawled under her skin like the words and impressions of her parents and misguided acquaintances.

While he pondered that fact, Aileen's mom took the helm of the conversation. “We were just enjoying your mom's cheese cake. It's outstanding, as always.”

“Thank you. I'm glad you liked it. Actually, I was on the hunt for you, Aileen. Would you like to take a walk?”

Liam waited at the hearth, extending a hand to assist her to her feet. Evidently, the study of performing arts had given Aileen the acting skills necessary to push negativity to the far reaches. She looked up at him and offered a smile—but he knew her too well to be fooled. The gesture didn't reach deep, and it didn't bloom with the spontaneous light and ebullience that was so typical for her. Taking hold of his hand, she nodded.

Gentle and smooth he tugged her to a stand and led the way to the backyard. He opened the doorway leading outside, allowing Aileen to precede him to the patio. Cool breezes skimmed through the air, lifting Aileen's hair when she tilted her chin toward the sky and closed her eyes. She released a pleasured sigh.

“Thanks for the rescue.”

“I thought you might appreciate a breather. Sorry I intruded. Didn't mean to.” He adjusted the fall of her pink cardigan sweater so it would offer better protection from the rapidly cooling afternoon. “Are you OK?”

Her shoulders slumped but her lips tugged into the curve of a tentative smile. “I am now. I'm just glad your arrival called a halt to the comments I'm sure would have come next about me indulging in a slice of cheese cake.”

Liam slung an arm around her shoulders and tucked her close as those quiet words drifted into wood-scented air and they wandered. “Aileen, you look fantastic.”

Her shoulders went stiff against his hold, and she firmed her chin. He could tell at once she wanted nothing to do with the compliment. Liam knew the score. Aileen didn't believe in her impact, therefore, she refused delivery on praise. For now, he let that fact be and they rested in a comfortable silence.

Before long, she drew a stuttered breath. “So…”

“A needle pulling thread.” Liam delivered the line in a comedic way, like he used to do when they were kids and they began a conversation with the word ‘So.' They both fell into a bout of easy laughter.

“Ah, Liam, that one never gets old.”

“Yes it does, but that's OK. Bad jokes are part of the story of us.”

“Indeed. Bad jokes. A love of music. Years and years of history.” She slipped an arm around his waist to complete their affectionate connection. “The story of us. I like it. You still know how to phrase words like a poet.”

“Blame my heritage. And you still know how to sing like an angel. It was great to see you at the front of the church again. Great job today.”

“Thanks.” She peered at him, and he detected the sly glint in her eyes. “That's high praise coming from one of the top producers at Zion's Peak Records. Maybe I should be begging you to sign me up, hmm?”

This was the playful, sassy Aileen he adored. “The thought occurs to me…but I'm not all that. Not yet, anyway. I've got a lot to learn, and despite my every effort, I've already discovered many segments of the music industry aren't all together kind to people of faith.”

Beyond that, he refused to elaborate. Not yet. Today was about homecoming. A renewal of bonds. A chance to capture the joy and passion he had always found in music. Plus, Aileen's furrowed brows and concerned features were enough to warn Liam off the topic. “Enough of that. On to the real reason I've dragged you away from the warmth of the house.”

Aileen folded her arms against her midsection and gave an elaborate shudder. “Yes, fill me in before hypothermia sets in.”

“Did you have a chance to look through the bulletin from church yet?”

“No, I went straight to the apartment after church. Needed to check on a few things.”

“That's right. I nearly forgot you're now a leaseholder. Are you having fun settling in?”

“Ugh.”

“That good, huh?”

“I smell paint vapors in my sleep. And don't even get me started on refinishing the hardwoods.”

Liam laughed, pulling a folded sheet of paper from the back pocket of his jeans.

Aileen continued. “Laugh if you will, but it's no joke. My apartment is in a fabulous old brownstone in the middle of town. The location couldn't be more perfect, and the space is enormous. I've got the entire second floor. But the amount of prep involved is crazy. Thankfully, I can stay with Mom and Dad until things are situated. Shouldn't be more than a few days.”

Aileen watched him smooth the paper and asked, “What's that?”

“Take a look. I pulled it from this week's edition of the Holy Spirit News. Let me know what you think. We can sit on the swing for a minute or two if you're not too cold.”

She claimed the page then followed the direction of his gaze. A two-seat, wooden swing hung from a sturdy A-frame and faced a sweeping expanse of flowers that were still colorful and lush despite the coming change of seasons.

“That'd be perfect. I was only teasing about hypothermia. Mostly.”

Liam led the way and Aileen read. Judging by the way her eyes widened, and the way her steps slowed to a stop, he figured she was startled by what she read. That was pretty much as he expected.

“What's this all about?”

“You tell me.” He hedged, loving that he left her off-balance.

Taking a seat on the swing, visibly baffled, Aileen began to read aloud. “Join us for a night of Hollywood glamour. Enjoy some family-friendly comedy skits, songs, dance, and even some old time swing music as the Archdiocese sponsors a fundraiser for Catholic school tuition assistance.”

Liam settled into the space next to Aileen and looked over her shoulder. Vanilla and jasmine drifted from her hair—subtle and tantalizing. He savored the warmth of her body next to his, and Liam frowned. This was simple. This was nothing more than friends chatting, and sharing. No reason for his imagination to start running wild.

But when she turned to look at him, his senses froze and then began to hum with energy. Liam forced himself back to task. “I want you to participate. You, Maeve, Kassidy, and Siobhan.”

“You're certifiable. This fundraiser, variety show, concert, whatever, takes place in less than two weeks. We'd never be ready on time, and—”

“Come on. The four of you are professionals. Two weeks is an eternity.” Undeterred, Liam challenged her with a long, direct look.

“We're hardly professionals.”

“Not true at all, Aileen. Remember, I watched a number of your performances at NYU. I sat front-row center when Maeve ended up off-Broadway and took on the lead role in
Love Me Always
. Kassidy, meanwhile, is a seasoned actress with unreal musical chops, and an ability to interpret lyrics like no one else I know. Then, there's Siobhan, who has earned her way on to the Westerville ballet troupe and teaches technique. What's your issue?”

“But—” There, she stumbled.

“Eloquent, Ailee.” She scowled when he interrupted; he brushed that off and grinned, knowing he'd win this battle. Music and singing were her God-given call. She wouldn't be able to refuse. “Wasn't it you who said, just a few short hours ago, that you wanted to perform with the girls again?”

“Yes, but—”

“This would be a great chance to enjoy a reunion. Look at it that way, and say yes.”

“Why? Why are you pushing?”

“Because I have a picture in my mind of the four of you on stage, and I know it would be sensational.”

Silence followed the declaration. Aileen studied him askance. “You can't possibly be serious.”

“Oh, yes I can. Furthermore, examine the fine print.” He directed her attention to sponsor names listed at the bottom of the page. “Since I was elected to the committee that's putting this event together, I convinced the higher-ups at Zion's Peak Records to step up and help with sponsorship. The event will be held at the Westerville Theater. It'll be professionally staged, and it'll even be recorded for local cable. Fun, huh?”

“Really?”

Liam nodded. “The venue seats over eight hundred. The stage is huge—you remember that from your stints with the summer theater, right? I'm thinking why not let Siobhan dance while the three of you sing? I know she'd create some amazing choreography for all four of you.”

In a millisecond of time, he watched skepticism transform to interest. No denying the fact Aileen was now tempted. Liam's hopes lifted. Considering the turmoil he faced at work these days—the doubts he battled about the path of his life—Liam reveled in the glow of Aileen's eager hope.

Now, for the clincher. Pushing at the grassy ground with the toe of his shoe, Liam propelled the swing into motion. “By the way? I even came up with a name for the group.”

“Oh, and what would that be? Angels We Have Heard on High?” She gave him a flirty wink and waggled her brows.

“Nothing quite so cumbersome, smart-aleck. Try this on for size.”

Aileen tilted her head and waited.

“Sisters in Spirit.”

 

 

 

 

3

 

Sisters in Spirit.

A full day passed but Aileen couldn't get the idea out of her head. Tuesday morning she pushed herself hard during Zumba class, but every dance move, every motion and note of music prompted daydreams about the way Liam's idea might pan out. Aileen worked her body; she sweated and conjured the ways Siobhan would be able to stylize a wonderful presence for their quartet on stage. When the session ended, Aileen stowed her water bottle and towel, already hearing the strains of a couple contemporary Christian songs she could perform with Maeve and Kassidy while Siobhan filled the stage with the beauty of her dancing.

Liam had planted seeds in unexpectedly fertile soil.

Following her workout, Aileen walked from the Hopkins Community Center to the Cuppa Café where she ordered a pumpkin spice latte in honor of fall's arrival. Fragrant brew in hand, she strolled the few blocks to her apartment. Downtown Westerville bustled. Tucked against the southern edge of the Adirondack Mountains, the quaint hamlet exemplified small-town grace, which was why she loved it so much. Aileen passed old brick buildings. She crossed beneath cloth awnings with curved ridges that snapped in the breeze. Foot traffic and car noise added motion to the thoroughfare of Second Street. Curved lampposts featured glassed-in luminaries that were extinguished for the time being; but once night fell, the streets, restaurants, and shop windows would come alive with twinkle lights and colorful displays of clothing, home goods and jewelry.

Flexing her wrist, she checked the face of her watch. As suspected, she was running behind. Cringing, she accelerated her pace, trotting up the stairs that led to the front door of her brownstone. She bounded the interior stairwell that led to her upper-level apartment and her cellphone hummed to life with the strains of “Ballerina Girl” by Lionel Richie. Siobhan was calling.

Aileen engaged the phone and pinned the device between her ear and shoulder while she twisted the key and pushed open the door. “Hey, girlie! I dawdled over coffee. Sorry!”

“No worries. Your slave laborers …er…friends…have gathered. Are you ready for the gang to converge?”

“Absolutely. I'm just walking in, actually.” Aileen crossed the threshold. Her gaze swept the lines of her space, which was barren for the moment and still required a heavy dose of tender loving care. “I need you guys. Desperately.”