Sophie's Encore (36 page)

“Rings,” he mused after an eternity. “They’re quite heavy on symbolism, aren’t they?”

I nodded, needing a moment before I could speak. “I…it would feel wrong to take this one off. But it doesn’t mean…”

Dan grasped my hands more intensely, but I ran out of courage. “I still have yours,” I stated instead, as a diversionary measure. “Well, my half of it, anyway.”

“And I still treasure my half.” Dan’s voice was solemn and slightly hoarse. And that about summed up the complexity of our relationship. We looked at each other for a long while, unsure how to proceed, where to go next. As the seconds stretched by, the poignancy slowly faded, the small opening grew smaller and eventually closed, and the moment slipped away. And yet, something had passed between us, a certainty, an understanding, perhaps, and I felt oddly at ease. Dan let go of my hand, and I flexed my fingers as though waking up from a trance. We smiled.

“So. Tell me about the tour. How’s this going to work?” I was first to break the silence, and Dan released a breath I didn’t know he had been holding.

“Right. The tour. Well…”

And so he filled me in on the schedule. There were five more shows planned: Seattle, San Francisco, LA, Chicago, and New York. The band would be rehearsing most afternoons, followed by a quick radio or TV appearance in most places, then a sound check prior to dinner at the concert venue before the various shows. Afterwards, there were a variety of events ranging from interviews to after-parties. Non-show days were spent traveling, punctuated by early-morning and lunchtime promotional gigs—more radio and TV appearances, meetings with local record bosses, and other obligations.

There was a two-day gap between the show in LA and the next gig in Chicago, and Jack had booked the band into a studio in LA to lay down demos for new songs with some of the local big names. The schedule was grueling, to say the least, and I was breathless just hearing it.

“But that’s us,” Dan laughed when he saw my face. “You guys are along for the fun part of the ride. I’d think you get up when you’re ready, and then go and do some sightseeing in each of the cities until the early afternoon. If you want to join us for rehearsal or sound check, then please do. I’d definitely like to see you all for dinner, and I’d love for you to be at the shows, kids’n all. We’ll work something out. After-parties and all that malarkey…Again, we’ll work that out. Depending on where the action is, Joe and Mick sometimes used a hotel babysitter or simply put the kids to sleep in a quiet room at whatever place we would hang out. It’s all different and you’ll have to learn to trust me and to go with the flow a bit, but it’s perfectly okay.”

I laughed. “All the stuff I used to worry about, way back when. And it’s all going to be okay.”

Dan laughed, too. “Absolutely. And I can’t tell you how happy I am you guys are here with me.”

Chapter Fifty-Three

It was nearly seven p.m. local time by the time we arrived at our hotel in downtown Seattle. Immigration at SeaTac had taken a little while, and the kids had been very cranky, having been woken from their slumber at landing, but there were no mishaps, and we all enjoyed the twenty minute cab ride from the airport to the hotel, taking in the unfamiliar boulevards and relishing the occasional glimpse of open water.

“The hotel is only a few blocks away from the waterfront. If you wanted to do something exciting tomorrow, there are ferries going across the sound. They’re mostly commuter ferries, really, but you could always check them out, I know how much you guys like your boat trips,” Dan told us, and the kids squealed excitedly.

“Let’s do it now, let’s do it now,” Josh chanted, suddenly wide awake even though it was technically the middle of the night for him.

“We’ll do it tomorrow,” I replied. “Let’s get to the hotel first and settle in and grab something to eat.”

Dan had booked a family suite for us with two bedrooms and a little sitting room, as well as the obligatory fabulous bathroom. The kids were beside themselves with glee, and I wasn’t far behind. It was a stunning room, bright and airy and very luxurious. Dan joined me at the window and put an arm around my shoulder, pulling me snugly into him.

“It’s a bit odd, this, isn’t it?” I mused, voicing my thoughts.

“Is it?” Dan threw me a probing look. “Why?”

“Well…no more separate suites, no more connecting doors, no more pretense. We’re just…here. Together.”

Dan planted a little kiss on my cheek. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” I protested. “It’s just…after all this time…it’s a little weird, that’s all.”

“I don’t think it’s weird.” Dan’s voice was deep and calm. “I think it’s long overdue. You are the closest thing I have to a real family. I missed you all. I wanted you here. Right here, not next door. This is what it should be like.”

Oh my God. I experienced a weird tingling sensation all over at hearing these words. Yet I was hearing them without really taking them in, because my heart rate picked up so dramatically that the muffled pounding in my ears drowned out all sound and thought. I felt a little dizzy, too. Was he really saying what I thought he was saying?

I disengaged from his arm so I could look at him properly. He was smiling, his eyes full of love, his face content.

“Um…” Faced with a highly poignant moment, I was my usual eloquent self. But Dan rescued me.

“It’s ridiculous, really, that it’s taken us so long.” He grinned and wrapped his arms around me once more. He held me tight, and my face was pressed hard against his lovely chest. Mmmhh-mmmhh.

“Taken us so long to do what?” I mumbled into his shirt.

“This.” He let go of me with one arm and made a sweeping gesture. “Being honest with ourselves about staying together. Gosh, if only we’d done this first time ‘round…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but put his arm back around me instead.

As before, I had this sense of certainty. We were headed some place, and I knew where. The unspoken thing was there between us, growing, stretching, emerging into something beautiful, and we were both watching it develop, waiting to see when it would burst through the surface. But this wasn’t the right time, it appeared. For one, we were jetlagged, dirty, and hungry. And for another, there were two kids involved who rarely, if ever, would give two adults more than five minutes’ uninterrupted talking time.

“Mummy, mummy, I want to go in the bath, it’s got nobbles in, and it sprays, and it makes waves!” Josh bounded up to us and pulled at both our sleeves while we were still mid-embrace.

I looked at Dan, confused, and he laughed.

“That would be the spa tub,” he explained. “It’s all singing and dancing. It makes bubbles and everything. Or so I’m told. Let’s go check it out.”

So we ran the children a bath, complete with mad amounts of bubbles, and let them splash to their hearts’ content. Meanwhile, Dan and I took turns in the shower to freshen up, too. Once clean and dry, we dressed in our pajamas. Dan ordered a room service dinner—steaks and chips for the adults, and burgers from the special children’s menu—and we feasted in front of the telly, feeling weary and exhilarated all at the same time. At nine-thirty, the kids started drooping again, and I put them to bed in their room while Dan made a few rapid calls to Jack and the band to confirm the schedule for the following day.

Afterwards, unreasonably early by local standards perhaps, we crawled into our king-size bed, luxuriating in the fresh sheets and the thoughts of a long night’s sleep ahead to stave off the worst effects of jetlag. I nuzzled contentedly into Dan’s bare chest and dropped off to sleep before a single naughty thought could cross my mind.

Dan was gone by the time I came around the following morning. There was a note on the pillow signed with fifteen kisses, explaining the band was due at a radio station by seven a.m. He left me his detailed itinerary for the day along with a set of mobile telephone numbers to contact him or Jack, but there was one item he had circled in red:
Final rehearsal, The Arena, 4 p.m.~See you there?

I smiled to myself. Four o’clock wasn’t a long time away, and I was certain the kids and I would find something to do for the few short hours. Once we were dressed and ready to go, of course.

The kids woke up shortly after, looking refreshed and happy and not at all jetlagged—yet. They raced into my bedroom and made to jump into bed to hug me, but got diverted at the last minute.

“Look, look,
look
!” Josh’s excited voice emerged from somewhere under the bed. Emily immediately joined him, and they both emerged brandishing a chocolate Easter egg.

“It’s an Easter egg,” I stated, somewhat superfluously and not a little dumbfounded.

“Let’s see if there are any more,” Josh suggested to his sister, and they commenced a frantic search of the room. Meanwhile, my addled brain had latched onto a vital detail. It was Sunday, of course. Easter Sunday! And Dan had obviously come here prepared. I broke out into a giant smile I simply couldn’t wipe off my face.

“What’s so funny, Mummy?” Josh wanted to know when he noticed my wide grin.

I giggled. “Nothing, sweetheart. I’m just glad the Easter bunny found you here, all the way in the States.”

“It’s amazing,” Josh agreed and resumed his hunt. All in all, there were twenty-four eggs and four chocolate Easter bunnies to be found in the suite, and the kids assembled their loot in one of the hotel’s fruit bowls, having unceremoniously moved the fruit onto the coffee table. Easter-bunny Dan had truly outdone himself. I was so stunned, I couldn’t even feel guilty about forgetting the whole thing myself, and I allowed each child one chocolate egg before we went down for breakfast.

In actual fact, I was a little nervous about braving the breakfast room on my own with two young children. This was a first for us, but they excelled themselves. They sat nicely and calmly, remembered their please’s and thank-you’s, and ate like champions. The hotel staff responded in kind to their good manners and treated us like royalty, and I felt inordinately proud.

When we were ready, we went sightseeing. It was an overcast day but at least it wasn’t raining, and we made our way to the waterfront, taking in the gentle lapping of the waves against the piers and the dramatic juxtaposition of cityscape with mountain views. Well,
I
did. The kids were more fascinated by unfamiliar cars and all the marine vessels moored by the pier. One of them, Josh deciphered, offered trips around Elliott Bay and, predictably, once the kids had discovered this fact, we had to buy tickets and get on.

An hour later, we returned to shore, excited, cold, and hungry, so we found a little eatery for lunch. During our meal, we debated whether to go the nearby aquarium next or whether to check out the Space Needle. Emily wanted to see the fish, but Josh convinced her that space was much more exciting. On balance, I tended to agree with him, not bothering for the moment to correct his expectation, and we flagged down a cab to have ourselves taken to this amazing monument.

Obviously the kids were overwhelmed with the sight of this spectacular structure, rising high above us into the sky “and with a spaceship at the top,” or so Josh said. When I told them we could go up all the way to the observation deck, they could hardly believe it and tugged eagerly at my hands to get inside.

It was a momentous afternoon, and time flew so quickly that I nearly missed our four o’clock appointment at The Arena. I piled the kids into another cab, even though we could probably have walked to the concert venue, and we screeched to a halt in front of the gates at just a few minutes to four.

Taking a deep breath, I smoothed back my hair, took each child by a hand and walked confidently up to the security office. It occurred to me too late that I had nothing to prove I was entitled to go
in
, no pass, no identification, not even Dan’s little note. It was just me, a slightly wild-eyed mother, and her two kids.

“Sophie Jones,” I announced myself boldly. “With Emily and Josh. The band is expecting us.”

I received exactly the kind of skeptical look I had feared, but the chap checked his clipboard anyway. Interminable seconds seemed to pass before he looked up and smiled.

“Of course. Come on through.” He pressed a button to release a door lock and we were in.

“This is cool,” Josh whispered, evidently becoming more aware of our exalted status that granted us access to places most people could only dream of seeing.

“I know,” I whispered back, squeezing his hand excitedly. “I used to do this all the time, but I’m kinda out of practice.”

Emily hop-skipped happily next to us while I tried to get my bearings. “If in doubt, follow the music,” I lectured my young children, and together, we did just that, until we emerged inside the auditorium to find the stage.

Chapter Fifty-Four

“They’re here!” Dan’s voice carried through the arena and it sounded as though all of Seattle would hear. Joe gave a drum roll, and Mick and Darren played a dainty riff on their respective strings. I grinned and waved, taking a deep bow. The kids whooped and clapped their hands.

“Sit down, sit down,” Dan encouraged us from his vantage point on the stage. “We’d love you to watch this rehearsal. We’re going to do a full run-through for you!”

We clapped and cheered and picked some random seats. I wasn’t
entirely
sure whether the kids would last for a whole set, but then again, there was plenty of space for them to run around if they got bored. A thoughtful roadie rushed out to meet us and handed me two sets of earmuffs, one pink, one blue, and I held them up high in the air for Joe to see, mouthing, “Thank You.” I had no idea whether he saw my words, but he got my meaning anyway and gave another drum roll. The kids put on their earmuffs, and we settled down to take in the show.

Needless to say, it was amazing, and the kids were mesmerized and lasted the entire two hours. Toward the end, I had to cuddle Emily on my lap as the jetlag threatened to engulf her, but she refused to yield and watched every last song, every last moment. I saw the show through the kids’ eyes, marveling at the jokes and the stage walks, delighting at the fireworks, shouting for all my worth at the customary sing-along challenge sections. Enormous video screens framed the stage, alternately focusing on the band and showing animated clips of swirling colors, psychedelic night skies, montages of the band’s album covers that combined into a funny cartoon, and cheering crowds with a tickertape identifying the venues: Ontario, Nashville, Las Vegas…