Lost In Rewind (Audio Fools #3) (37 page)

“Do you think he’ll ever find her?” The shorter blond asks her friend—or sister.

“I hope so. I’m afraid his heart can’t take any more pain … similar to how I was when Liam found me in London.”

I look up to see the two women huddled together, resting their heads and drawing comfort in one another.

“I was worried you’d be hurt by all this. He meant so much to you for so long that I couldn’t imagine the two of you moving on together like this.”

A burst of adrenaline fuels my interests as I feel like a spy listening in on a conversation not meant for my ears, but these two women have completely captivated me, and now I can’t concentrate on anything but their tête-à-tête. I close my eyes as if praying, but really, I’m just eavesdropping.

“Being loved by Liam and starting a life with him is beyond anything I’ve ever imagined for myself, but as happy as I was, there was still a piece of me that was missing. JJ and Jeffery … they’ll always be a part of me, and I need to be a part of them for my life to feel complete. We’ve both come to the conclusion that I don’t love him the way I love Liam, and he doesn’t love me the way he loved his wife, and that’s okay. Look at our children—they were the reason we came together. I want him to be a happy person and the perfect father I’ve watched him be from a distance, and for that, he needs another person to remind him that he’s human. He thinks he’s a villain, but he’s not. He’s just a good guy who got lost. He needs one woman and one life, a kind of life he doesn’t need an escape from. I’m not that woman—I never was, but I think she is. He needs to find her, I feel it in my bones. Our relationship reminds me of that song,
‘Making Love Out of Nothing At All’
by Air Supply.”

I’m pretty sure I stopped breathing when the taller American mentioned the name Jeffery. I’m not sure if I’ve even heard her correctly, or if I’m just hearing what I want to hear. I haven’t uttered his name since I told Lauren about him, and hearing his name now feels illusory. I summon all my will to stay put and not bother these two American women. I want to ask the taller one if it’s Jeffery Rossi she’s referring to, and if by chance, she happens to be Eddie’s little sister? But that would be preposterous. There is zero way they could possibly know my Jeffery—well, he’s not mine in a physical sense, but he was mine for a short moment in time, and he will always be mine to me.

Panic quickly spreads down my body and I suddenly can’t find enough air to breathe, as if the hundreds of lit candles around me are using up all the oxygen left in this tiny space. The concave walls around me unexpectedly begin to cause a claustrophobic anxiety that I’ve never before experienced.

I step out from my place in the line, making more noise than I should, and begin to push myself out. I need to get out of here now! I’m a bit disoriented as dark spots smudge my vision.
Which way is the exit?
Sweat forms around my lips and I strain to ventilate my lungs, but there isn’t enough air here. I need to go outside.

In my imagination, I hear one of the women—the one who spoke his name—call after me. In my mind, she yells “excuse me, miss” over and over, but it’s safe to say I have an overactive imagination, and I just need to get out of this overcrowded space fast, or I’ll faint.

Where did all the air go?

“
All Out of Love
” by Air Supply

I
clutch a fragile violin that I’m afraid might crumble in my hands by the look of its age. I doubt this old artifact can even produce any music; it looks as if it may dissolve if someone attempts to play it. Sara and Emily have given up trying to pursue the girl they claim this violin belongs to. If it weren’t for the fact that I saw Sarah play a violin that morning on the floor in her apartment before I left her to go back to my children, I’d think nothing of this ancient-stringed instrument, but this can’t be a coincidence, it must be hers. I have no doubt that Emily and Sara were at the right place at the right time.

We’ve been scattered in a military style deployment throughout this little village of Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer in the worst possible time to be here. There are way too many tourists and caravans everywhere with some kind of gypsy festival taking place in the next two days. After I gave my A-team Kali’s real name, we were able to received confirmation from Will’s father that the driver brought Kali—I mean, Sarah—to a small boutique hotel. I was there at the little hotel waiting in the lobby and knocking on her door for hours without any luck. Louis and Will spent all day driving Emily and Sara around town to try and maybe spot her on the avenues, which is useless with the amount of people wandering the streets. Thank God Eddie and Michelle had been entertaining all our children or we’d get nowhere.

The sun has already set and we’re all back onboard sharing our findings, or in my case, lack of. I didn’t think it would be this hard to locate her, but I’ve had no prospects whatsoever. The only semi-interesting discoveries from our fruitless quest have come from the women. Emily has told us about some church she and Sara were told to go and investigate—being the number one tourist destination in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer. They somehow made it to the basement of said church after waiting in line for hours. They found out it was a very holy gathering place for gypsies who come from around the world to honor Saint Sarah, which I have deduced is the same place that Mr. LeBlanc had named and described to me. Emily goes on to tell us about the big crowds and the dimly candlelit crypt, how it was very loud, and men were playing guitars and singing songs. Emily produces a black Madonna statue, which she purchased, and announces that she will now be adding this unusual yet powerful relic to her long list of non-Jewish holiday paraphernalia, to which Louis promises that he’ll kill her if she observes one more fucking holiday that she has no business celebrating. But it’s clear that Emily will do whatever her heart wants, whether Louis approves or not, and he will love her for it.

Emily then continues to narrate their emotional experience at the church. How they were ready to leave and then heard a loud sound behind them. It’s Sara who noticed this violin on the floor, and picked it up before it was trampled over. Sara then tells us how a dark-haired girl running out toward the door caught her attention, and that the two of them tried to catch up to her. When asked if the violin was theirs, all the other people shook their heads; therefore, they concluded that the instrument had to belong to the girl who ran out. They assumed she must’ve dropped it without realizing. Long story short—by the time they made their way above ground, the girl was gone, swallowed by the crowd surrounding the church, and they were left holding on to this violin which they now don’t know what to do with, or who to return it to.

It has to be her violin.

“What’s your next move, mate?” Will comes over and hands me a beer.

“I’m gonna go back to the hotel where they confirmed she checked in yesterday, and hopefully, she’ll be back in her room by now.” I haven’t let go of the violin, because in my heart, I know it’s hers and I wish it were her I was holding onto and protecting right now instead of this wooden apparatus. “I can’t imagine it being very safe to be out alone this late.” I unconsciously tighten my grip as I feel one of the strings from the violin loosening from under my fingers. I look down and an overwhelming sense of fear blooms inside. What if something were to happen to her? What if someone tries to hurt her? What if we can’t find her? What if I never see her again?

Will, probably reading my doomed facial expressions, puts his hand on my shoulder and says reassuringly, “Jeff, stop imagining the worse. She’ll be ace until you find her. And you
will
find her. The whole bloody universe is conspiring to bring you two together. It’s gonna bloody happen, mate.”

I smile, because he’s right. I need to stay optimistic and believe that things will work out. We didn’t come this far to fail.

I pat his hand, still on my shoulder, and say, “Congratulations. I heard you’re somebody’s husband.” I joke around with the only man that deserves to be her husband.

“I was itching to tell you, but she made me promise to keep a tight lid until she had the chance to speak to you first. I’m going to make up for all the rubbish we had to endure up to now, I want to give her the stars,” he vows, looking up at the clear, star-littered sky. I’m convinced that there is no man alive who could love Sara more than Will.

We engulf each other in a man hug, and this is definitely not how I envisioned my life, but I couldn’t be happier for them and the good life I know they’ll have, content that, in a small way, the children and I will be a part of it.

“Go fetch your little buttercup, mate. We need to meet this Sarah of yours.” He winks.

I’m already walking toward the stairs to take a ride back to the hotel I spent most of the day scouting for her in, and hopefully, she’s back in her room, safe.

“I promise I won’t come back without her,” I call out from the steps.

“That’s the spirit!” I hear him yell back at me.

She better be back at the hotel, or this may prove to be a very long, hard night for me. I was serious about not coming back without her, or at least news of her. Fate has to step in and help me find my Sarah.

“
Thief of Hearts
” by Melissa Manchester

I
t’s almost midnight, and I should go back to my hotel and not be here alone this late. I’m supposed to act like an adult and take care of myself because no one else will. In my delusional state of mind, I ran out like a madwoman upon overhearing his name, and as luck would have it, I somehow lost my beloved violin. I went back to the church twice already, but I haven’t been able to find it, or anybody who’s seen it. I’ve been assured that nobody returned a lost violin. How could I have dropped one of my most precious possessions? How could I have been so careless? I wonder if perhaps someone may have found it on the floor and just decided to keep it as a toy or souvenir? Or maybe it was stepped over, crushed, and reduced to dust—like me.

My tears won’t end as they run down my cheeks, and I’m beyond the point of hysteria. All I have left of my violin is the bow, which I’ve held onto for dear life. I have one of Joella’s floral scarves wrapped around my shoulders, but I’m still numb and frozen to the bone. The reality that I will never be able to replace the violin that was once played by the lost generation of women I will never again see is absolutely crushing.