Aileen's Song (5 page)

During intermission, he downed a cold soda and touched base with a number of parishioners from Holy Spirit. When the lights flickered in a traditional alert to make a return to the theater, Liam's expectations soared. Sisters in Spirit—he was pleased the girls had decided to adopt the name—would perform next.

Not long after the audience reassembled, a red velvet curtain lifted. A trio of spotlights came to life, framing Aileen, Kassidy, and Maeve who stood at the top of a wide set of stairs. Piano music filled the auditorium, haunting and beautiful. Siobhan twirled onto the stage from the right wing, each arm lift and pirouette timed expertly to the building chords of Breath of Heaven. While she danced through the intro, the girls moved slowly down the stairs.

And they began to sing.

A thrill-chill skimmed against Liam's skin, and in that instant, he had to fight to remember to breathe. They were beyond fantastic. Their voices blended flawlessly, in such a sweet, pure way. Then there was Siobhan. During instrumental bridges, the trio stepped gracefully to the background and allowed Siobhan to work her magic. All four women knew just how to share the space, their talents, and build the audience's reaction. As the music continued, they played with an instinctive precision to each segment of the theatre in the way they used the stage. Siobhan, meanwhile, drifted and leapt across the floorboards, a radiant interpreter.

This level of artistry had come together after only two weeks of rehearsal? Liam was astonished. They made it look as though they had been performing together forever. Their look was perfect—classic and elegant. Gowns in bold hues of blue, pink, green, and rust shimmered as they traversed the stage.

The biggest surprise of all was Aileen. Her presence commanded. With smooth grace and charm she joked with the crowd and shared a fond sense of rapport with her friends. She didn't overshadow, but she was the leader of the quartet, and their combined skills and chemistry left the crowd enrapt.

As he had hoped, they filled Westerville Theater with magic, and when their selections concluded, the audience rose as one with an enthusiastic reward of applause and cheers. The girls took the response in stride, adding to their appeal by executing graceful, deep curtseys, along with brief waves and winning smiles. Liam lifted to his feet as well, his applause joined to the hundreds around him. Aileen met his gaze for only a second, but he knew her well enough to sense the telegraph of stunned surprise, and the trembles of joy.

Standing in the spotlight, proclaiming God's good through song, Aileen Brewer was in no way the shy, blushing girl he had grown up with. Instead, she was a woman of captivating confidence. In an instant, the wallflower of his youth emerged into a woman of heart stealing personality and beauty.

 



 

An afterglow party kicked off following the gala. People swirled passed. Laughter and conversations filled the air. Liam heard, but didn't really absorb. Instead, he propped a shoulder against the wall of the reception room that adjoined the theater and watched Aileen. Arms folded against his chest, he experienced an intensity rush that caught him utterly off guard.

Skin aglow, smile wide, Aileen accepted hugs and kisses, replied to words of congratulations and encouragement. She moved through the reception, progressing from group to group, laughing and chatting. She was electric, completely in her element. The way she looked in that dark blue gown of satin and tulle left him emotionally thirsty—edgy. She possessed the kind of soft curves any sane woman would pine to have. Her eyes danced, and his fingers twitched when his gaze swept along that tumble of light brown hair that fell to her waist.

It was like seeing his childhood friend for the very first time.

He lifted away from the wall and ambled toward the spot where Aileen stood. During his approach, he shook hands with friends and acquaintances. He paused to share greetings with parish members and words of praise about the success of the concert. He accepted the encouragement, but his goal was Aileen.

He closed in, but halted his steps and kept to the rear when Aileen's attention was claimed by a VIP member of the reception. Aileen's exclamation of delight reached his ears the instant her high school choir teacher, Deborah Szeliga, greeted her former pupil with a long hug. “Aileen, you were absolutely incredible.”

“Oh, my gosh! Mrs. Szeliga! I can't believe you're here. How great to see you.” Aileen bubbled, overwhelmed. The tears that sparkled in her eyes, the complete focus Aileen gave her mentor left Liam's throat a bit thick as well. “I've missed you!”

“I wouldn't have missed seeing you perform for anything. I'm only sorry I wasn't able to make your performances at NYU.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Szeliga. Believe me, this moment means even more. Wait until Maeve and Kassidy find out you were in the audience. Come say hello.”

The choir director was tall and graceful, with black hair that fell into a stylish, asymmetrical bob against her chin. Her eyes danced, and her smile was like a gift—a gift Liam was sure Aileen treasured beyond any standing ovation or call of “Bravo.”

“By the way...” Mrs. Szeliga tucked an arm around Aileen's waist as they moved to join Maeve and Kassidy. “I want you to do me a favor. Call me Debbie. Please?” When Aileen shook her head slightly, Mrs. Szeliga chuckled. “Believe me, you've earned the right. You're not only an equal to the teacher—I think you've surpassed her.”

“Not by a long shot.” Aileen paused to give her mentor another hug. “But if you insist, I'll call you Debbie from now on. Only because I love the idea of being friends.”

Visibly overcome, Mrs. Szeliga lifted a hand to her throat, studying her former pupil. “I'm so glad you've come back home.”

Remarkable, Liam thought, captivated by Aileen all over again.

The reunion continued with Kassidy and Maeve. Eager and impatient, Liam lingered, passing time with folks in a nearby group. Once Aileen's conversation entered a lull, he stepped to her from behind. Using a fingertip, he drew her hair back from her cheek. Leaning close, he whispered, “Three words. Decaf. Caramel. Macchiato.”

Was it his imagination or did her breath go unsteady when she turned and met his eyes? And was that a touch of pink color blooming against the silky skin he had just caressed?

“Oh, go ahead and hit me in the Achilles, why don't you?”

“That's the plan. Let's hit Cuppa after this.”

Aileen nodded readily.

“By the way, if you think Mrs. Szeliga was impressed by Sisters in Spirit, just wait until I tell you about the reaction of the Zion's Peak label executives I sat with tonight.”

Her eyes went wide as he nodded and drew her arm through his.

 



 

Liam followed Aileen as she made her way to a small metal bistro chair inside the Cuppa Café. The hour grew late. A sprinkle of patrons dotted the tables, but for the most part, the interior of the shop belonged to the two of them.

He held out the chair for her, and she settled. Mindless of decorum, she released an exclamation of delight and set down her ceramic mug full of steaming decaf along with a raspberry scone for them to share. “Tonight was really and truly like living in the pages of a fairytale. In case I haven't already said it, thank you for twisting my arm, Liam.”

“So what you're saying is”—He folded into the chair across from her—”I was right, and you were wrong.”

Aileen lifted a hand in refute. “No. I wasn't wrong. I was cautious.”

After situating his latte, Liam spread a napkin across his lap. He took in the lady before him, and his heart rate accelerated. Following the reception, Aileen had changed into black jeans and a long, light blue t-shirt she wore un-tucked and belted at the hips. How could so simple an outfit be so eye-catching?

“Paying for our food makes me think of that time in high school when we had to spend twenty-four hours in a unique and foreign character as a final exam for drama class. Remember stopping at the convenience store?”

Aileen laughed at the memory. “I remember. You and I were assigned to monitor each other. I was so thrilled that I, a lowly freshman, got to hang out with a much-lauded member of the senior class.”

Liam snorted, fingering the handle of his mug. “Freshman or not, you were fantastic. You transformed into someone more British than any citizen of the UK I've ever known. I'll never forget stopping at Max's Party Store to buy a cherry slush. You pretended to be lost and bewildered; then you used a British accent, and the word gobsmacked to render the poor cashier half stupefied, half smitten.”

“Meanwhile, you were told to be Irish. Talk about the luck of the draw. What a stretch that was. All you had to do was speak in a brogue, give a wink of those green eyes, and the ladies fell at your feet. You might call that acting. I call it reality theater.”

“Don't be sassin'.” He spoke in a brogue that was spot on, which left Aileen to laugh even harder. “I earned me an ‘A' on that one, lassie.”

“Perhaps, but Maeve and Kassidy have always been the thespians of our group. KC was amazing as a southern belle, remember?”

“I do. Seeing the four of you together on stage tonight brought everything back.” Nostalgia swept through him. So did a potent layer of protectiveness. Given the preliminary reaction of his record label, Liam sensed huge developments on the horizon. He intended to be vigilant and on guard for his friends and sister. “You really were wonderful, Ailee.”

“That's sweet of you.” Her lips curved as she split the scone in two and began to nibble on the treat.

“Honest of me, too. So, what are your plans now?”

She shrugged, drawing a fingertip beneath her lower lip to brush away a crumble or two. Liam's mouth watered, and not due to any kind of a hunger for food.

“I'm scouting high schools and community colleges.” She shrugged again, sliding her fingertip against the lip of her cup.

She seemed shy, nervous in a way as she deflected her gaze. He wanted to reach across the table and stroke back the fall of hair that slid over her shoulder when she studied the steam curls rising from the surface of her coffee.

“At least teaching music will keep me in touch with what I love.”

Liam kept silent until she looked at him. “What if a different avenue opened up?”

She didn't answer. She studied him and broke off another piece of the scone.

“Representatives from Zion's Peak were listening tonight, Ailee. They liked what they heard. Very much.”

She blew against the surface of her coffee before taking a careful sip through a topping of whipped cream. She sighed with pleasure. “Oh, this is heavenly.”

Liam's stomach clenched as a swift strike of desire hit home.

“I'm glad they enjoyed the performance. I'm flattered, but seriously, what could ever come of so simple a thing?”

He pierced her with a look. “But nothing. After that performance, you're going to tell me you'd be happy teaching? You're luminous. You belong on the stage.”

She laughed, and the merriment of her reaction skidded straight into his heart.

“C'mon, Liam. You, better than most, would understand the impracticality of me attempting a life of concert performance.”

“No, actually I don't.”

She stared at him, her playful smile faltering. “All right then, I'll spell it out for you. I don't fit the mold—in any way. Sure, I can sing. I'll grant you that. But I'm not…”

“You're not what?”

He enunciated each word, firm and forthright. He knew right where this conversation was headed. He also knew she could do incredible things if she'd untie herself from constraint—and fear. He could tell she didn't want to delineate what she felt were her flaws, but that's exactly what he wanted her to do. That way, he could help to obliterate them.

“Out with it, Aileen. Quit hiding.”

“I'm doing no such thing.”

“Oh yes you are, so stop acting, because you can't fool me. I've known you too long. Your face speaks volumes. You're expressive. Everything you are comes straight into the open, like a conduit from your heart. That's why you're so compelling. That's why the audience loves you. You draw them in naturally. What's the real issue here?”

She cast a cautious, gauging glance across the nearly empty cafe yet leaned forward as though to insure privacy. Her eyes shot fire. “OK, fine.” The words came in a low growl. “I'll embarrass myself by being flat-out honest. I'm not a size zero fashion plate. I don't want to fall into that trap. I don't want the pressure of image and physicality. I won't dress in scanty clothes and parade around a stage in stilettos.”

Liam opened his mouth, ready to shoot off a retort.

She closed her eyes briefly and lifted a hand. “I know, I know. I'm not fat. I get that, too. I'm curvy. I'm cute and playful. I'm not sexy. I'm not come-hither—nor do I want to be. I'm not what modern culture wants. I'd be a flop. Hence my plans to teach.”

“You're wrong. You and the girls are precisely what modern culture is searching for without even realizing it. Each one of you is fun-loving, charming, glamorous, and gifted.” Liam pushed ahead, pointing a finger in her direction. “I think you're deliberately underestimating your presence and impact because you're afraid. You owned that stage, Aileen. You came alive. You made an entire audience fall in love with you. Know why?”

She inched back slowly, eyes wide. She shook her head, visibly startled.

“You're beautiful, inside and out. You toss quips about stilettos and curves, but that's nothing more than cosmetic trapping. Your music is transcendent. You're right when you say you're not a skinny pop queen. Thank God for that. You'd never need to rely on cultural whims and marketing in order to be a success. Instead, you're timeless. You're elegant. Your music, your personality, speaks to people.”