Geronimo (A Songbird Novel) (3 page)

“So, say Geronimo! Say Geronimo!” the singers shouted into the microphones, encouraging the crowd to join in.

I gazed across the pub, the beat of the music thumping through me, Harry’s proposal drumming in my brain. I wanted to say yes. That was what I couldn’t understand.

But it was the only answer on my mind.

A. Big. Fat. Yes.

“So, what do you say, Jane?” Harry called above the crowd.

I bit my lips together, my brain screaming at me to use some common sense. I couldn’t say yes. That was crazy. Glancing across at Harry, I took in his expectant, hopeful face, the kindness in his eyes, and blurted, “Geronimo?”

“Geronimo?” The sparkles in his eyes seemed to dance. “As in yes?”

My head bobbed of its own accord. “Geronimo,” I repeated.

Clapping his hands together, he let out a loud laugh, then slapped the table. “Geronimo!”

I raised my mug and shouted, “Geronimo!”

Joining me, he raised his own mug and held it close to mine. “To craziness.”

“To songs that make us brave.”

“To Dutch courage.” He tapped his glass against mine, and with excited, kid-like smiles we toasted his completely insane idea.

Chapter Four

Harry

Working my jaw to the side, I pulled Nan’s car up to The Whistle Inn and hopped out. My head was just a little achy from my Dutch courage, but it would clear soon enough. I sipped at the coffee Nan had painstakingly made for me. I tried to tell her not to but she wouldn’t have it.

“Let me do this for you, love.” Her warning look reminded me that she was in fact my elder, and I backed off, patiently waiting while she prepared two coffees with her shaky hands. I subtly texted Mum one more time to double-check someone would be popping in on Nan at lunchtime. Part of me felt guilty for leaving the fragile woman, but when I told her about the trip, her eyes brimmed with pride and she offered to help me pack.

I checked that the thermos mug for Jane was still sitting upright in the passenger’s seat before leaning against the yellow car door and crossing my ankles.

The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to escort Jane out of the hotel. But I didn’t want Jane thinking I was pushing the boundaries of our deal. I was determined to stick with the rules I’d listed, for both our sakes.

I hadn’t had sex since my mindless bout of “get over Tammy” one-night stands. It wasn’t until I woke up beside a girl I couldn’t stand that I realized I was being a complete tosser about the whole thing. Humping anything with tits would not mend my broken heart, and sleeping with Jane wouldn’t either.

When she’d said that she was trying to bring herself back to life, it struck a chord with me. I needed the same thing. I was ashamed by just how long my rut had lasted. At first I’d filled it up with booze, then sex. Once I realized they were set on destroying me, I turned to work and caring for my nan. Although they were both good things to devote myself to, they hadn’t eased the itch, the nagging sensation that I needed more.

My sister suggested a few weeks ago, when I was struggling through a restless day, that it was probably time I thought about falling in love again. But that was complete bullocks. I wasn’t willing to risk my heart for a woman again.

Sliding my shades up, I squinted at the inn doors as one opened to reveal a shock of red hair. Jane had a large backpack slung over her shoulder and a set of keys in her hands. Her long, pale legs were on display, her olive green dress catching on the breeze as she shut the door behind her. I caught a flash of white knickers before she slapped her hand over the material with a little “Oh!”

I grinned, having to admit that the view wasn’t bad. 

Glancing across the street, she stopped short and then gaped at me…and my little Bambino. Her eyes narrowed as she cautiously walked toward us.

“What is that?” She pointed at the car I was leaning against.

I gave her a proud smile and turned to run my hand over the roof of the midget vehicle. “This is my nan’s Bambino.”

Her skeptical frown was comical. “Is it supposed to be a car? Because I’ve actually rented a grown-up one, and I seriously think we should take it. It has four doors and doesn’t look like it was bought at a toy store.”

I chuckled. “Now, now, be nice to the car. She’s served my nan very well, and she’s plenty strong enough to take us to Europe.”

“But…” Jane pulled a dubious face, her forehead wrinkling.

“Come on, Jane. Do you honestly want to tell your friends back home that you took a two-week road trip in a boring old rental car? Think about it. You could be telling them that you experienced life to the max in a gorgeous yellow Bambino!” I spread my arms, highlighting the car and putting on my secondhand car dealer’s face.

Jane stared at me for a long beat, then snorted out a laugh. “This is insane.”

“Well, you said you wanted to be crazy. I’m just here to help.”

Pursing her lips, she looked down the road at what I assumed was her rental car and then back to Yambi—Nan’s name, not mine.

“Will the rental car be okay here for two weeks?”

“Yeah, I’ll just call and let Devan know not to tow it.”

I pulled out my phone and texted my friend, resisting the urge to run around and open Jane’s door. It went against everything I’d been taught, but I wasn’t there to woo the girl. I was just there to help her cross off that list.

Our doors slammed in unison once we were settled into the car. Jane sipped her coffee and let out a satisfied moan.

“Oh, I so needed this. Thank you.”

I started the car. “My nan’s the world’s best cook…and coffee maker.” I swallowed back the urge to admit that she also had Parkinson’s and her cooking days were basically over. It hurt to even think it.

“You’re obviously close to her.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, doing a U-turn and heading east out of Rye. “My grandfather died about ten years ago and then…” I swallowed, not wanting to go into it, grateful for my no-histories clause in our arrangement. “I moved in with her about six months ago, just to help her out.”

Jane accepted my answer with a smile. “That’s nice of you.”

“Well, she’s pretty cool for an old bird.” I winked, enjoying the sound of her laughter.

We drove in silence for about ten minutes, Jane distracted by the view. Funny how it sometimes takes a visitor to make you realize how beautiful your own country is.

I got lost in the rolling hills and summer sunshine until Jane turned to me and asked, “So, where are we going?”

“Well, like I said last night, Europe’s a good start, so we’re heading to the Chunnel right now, and we’ll catch the train to Coquelles.”

“Wow,” Jane murmured.

That word and her awed expression reminded me that I’d made the right call. I’d slaved over my laptop until three a.m., preparing everything so I could take a couple of weeks off. I could actually work from anywhere, so I brought my laptop to finish up a few things while Jane was… I don’t know…reading
The Great Gatsby
.

“Which reminds me,” I blurted, forgetting I hadn’t been thinking aloud. Reaching behind me, I wrestled with the zipper of my pack, keeping an eye on the road and tugging out a copy of the book.

My throat grew thick with emotion as I glanced at the worn cover, remembering the petite hands that used to hold it, devouring the book while she curled up in bed on a rainy weekend morning.

I missed those days.

Dropping the book into Jane’s lap, I forced a grin. “There you go, love.”

She picked up the novel and gave me a delighted gasp, running her hand over the cover and trying to flatten out the curled corners.

“It’s not for keeps, I just thought you might like to borrow it, so… you know, don’t drop it in the ocean when you’re skinny-dipping.”

Jane laughed, whacking my arm lightly with the book. “I’ll do no such thing.” Glancing down at the cover, she shook her head and smiled at me. “Can’t believe you remembered.”

“It was only last night.” I chuckled. “And I told you, I’m here to help you cross off that list.”

“Well, we’re off to a pretty good start.” She nestled back in her seat, curling her fingers around the book on her lap and sipping at her coffee.

Switching on the little portable speaker on the dash, I then connected my phone and pressed play. “Best Day of My Life” kicked in, and we both grinned then started singing along. She knew the lyrics as well as I did, and it wasn’t hard to conclude that this could be one of the best holidays I’d ever had.

*****

Nine hours later we were driving through the streets of Paris. I’d been there a few times before and sort of knew my way around. I was heading for a small boutique hotel, the owner an acquaintance of my mum’s through the hospitality business. They didn’t know each other that well, but I figured a little name-dropping might score me a special room rate.

Jane stared out the window, blinking slowly at the view. She’d gone quiet about an hour ago. I guess after eight hours of talking and singing she was pretty tired.

I was.

But I was also happy…and I hadn’t felt that kind of comfortable joy in a long time.

I relished it as I navigated through the narrow streets and slowly found my way to Rue Christine. It was an old, quiet street near the Latin Quarter. Black street lamps that reminded me of Narnian fairytales lined the straight lane, highlighting the row of arched doorways.

“We’re nearly here,” I murmured.

Turning onto the road, I was grateful for Nan’s little Bambino. It was so much easier to navigate in the big cities.

“Ah, here we go.” I stopped and pointed to the quaint hotel.

Jane’s face lit with an instant smile as she drank it in. “It’s gorgeous.”

The small cobblestone courtyard was guarded by a wrought iron gate and made beautiful with splashes of green vines draping from the upper balconies. In the early evening light, the hotel looked nothing less than enchanting.

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.”

I grinned at her awed whisper, then leaned across and murmured, “And this is only the beginning.”

She turned to smile at me, her green eyes doing something to my insides that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I shied away from it, looking back at the road and concentrating on finding a place to park.

Fifteen minutes later, we were checking in. The owner remembered my mother and set us up in separate rooms, I on the first floor and Jane on the second. 

“
Bienvenue à Paris. La ville de l'amour.
” The owner’s eyes sparkled.

I chuckled, sliding the keys into my pocket and shaking my head. “
Mon amie et moi sommes seulement ici pour la nourriture et le vin.
”

She laughed and flicked her hand at me, like she knew better and I was a dumb fool to think I could stay in this city with such a pretty girl and not fall in love with her.

As we walked to the elevator, Jane tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “I haven’t spoken French since I was fifteen. What did you just say?”

“She was joking that Paris is the city of love, and I told her you and I are simply here for the food and wine.”

Jane smiled, looking relieved by my answer. We stepped into the elevator, and I pressed the one then the two. “Well, if that’s what we’re here for, I guess we better get out there and enjoy it.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. How long does it take a girl like you to get ready?”

The elevator dinged and I stepped out, once again having to resist the urge to walk her to her room. I’d never been such an un-gentleman in my life. My mother would have been horrified.

Jane’s green eyes twinkled. “Give me thirty minutes.”

“I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

And I did.

My hair was still wet from my shower, but at least I smelled fresh. Jane arrived about a minute after I did, and we walked into the evening air together. It was only seven o’clock but felt more like nine. All that driving, as pleasant as it was, exhausted me. I was looking forward to a good meal, some fine wine, and a decent sleep.

I had to admit, it was nice being with a girl and having zero expectations. Laying down those rules had taken all the awkwardness out of this weird setup, and we strolled down the street like longtime friends.

I didn’t know much about her history. She’d told me a couple of anecdotes from her childhood as we drove to Paris, but we mostly kept our getting-to-know-each-other info to the present-day. Suited me just fine; I wasn’t about to ruin everything by opening up about my heartache.

Jane taught twelve- and thirteen-year-olds at a private middle school. She didn’t tell me where, and I didn’t ask.

I was determined not to probe too deep. I didn’t want to know. Light and fun was the only way to do it.

“What’s your room like?” Jane’s eyes danced with humor. “Mine’s insane. The wallpaper is like an acid trip, and it’s in the same fabric as the duvet cover. I just stood in my doorway for like five minutes feeling dizzy.” She laughed. “It’s so fantastic!”

I grinned and nodded. “Mine’s green and white with this cool King Louis vibe.”

Jane leaned against me and laughed. “I still can’t believe I’m doing this! When I came over here, I honestly had no idea how I was going to get through my list.”

“Why did you choose to start in Rye? It’s hardly the extreme adventure capital of the world.”

Jane bit her lips together, her head stiff as she shook it.

“Ah.” I nodded. “Not a problem. We don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.” I nudged her arm with my elbow. “This trip is about the here and now. No awkward conversations allowed.”

Her smile grew, her stiff posture giving way to a relaxed sigh.

“This way.” I pointed down the street and directed her to the restaurant the lady at the hotel had recommended to us.

They sat us at a tiny table in the back. It was crowded with French chatter and smells so good my mouth started salivating.

“
Merci
.” I took the menu from the waiter and scanned the text. “Do you need help reading anything?”

Jane pursed her lips, her eyebrows dipping into a V as she tried to decipher the menu. After a moment, she put it down with a huff. “I can’t believe how much I’ve forgotten. I took French for three years at school. Why are you so good at it?”