Playing for Love at Deep Haven (29 page)

Answers to your
questions:

Someone who
wants to win a Grammy.

Desolate without
you sleeping next to me.

Wherever you are
is my home, you crazy beautiful girl.

Just open the
door and let me in.

Z

I should have
waited for you. I should have.

I loved you so
much, I should have waited for you.

I’m trying to
fix the past too, Zach.

I didn’t wait
for you then, but I’m waiting for you now.

V

PS - You’re
probably still onstage.

I’m a little
drunk (
Glenlivet
) and all I can think about is you.

Found a video of
your Madrid show on YouTube and hated myself very much for not being in the
audience. But the music was very, very
yelly
.

You looked so hot
onstage. I can’t stop thinking about the floor of the sound booth now and that
thing you did to me with your tongue when you braced my body between yours and
the wall.

Tempted to buy a
ticket to Zurich.

V

Between sets.

Tour got
rearranged. Headed for Berlin tonight.

You’re killing
me with these texts.

Are you drinking
alone?

I’m calling you
on the way to the airport.

Z

Wish I hadn’t slept
through your call. (Was wasted)

Loved hearing
your message.

Made me cry to
hear your voice, but I listened about 20 times.

This is getting
harder, Z, not easier.

V

You want me to
stop texting?

Would that be
easier?

I don’t want to
hurt you.

Z

Fuck that.

Write back.

Z

Do not fucking
do this, V.

Write back.

Z

I left my phone
at Sophie’s house and she went out of town for the weekend!

If she’d been
gone another day, I would have broken a window to get to you.

I’m so sorry you
worried. I wish I could crawl into your arms right now.

I need you so
much and I miss you so much and I’m a mess without you.

Where are you
now?

Belfast, right?

This sucks,
Zach. It sucks so bad.

V

I know I said I’d
give you space, but fuck it.

I’m calling you
right now.

Z

He didn’t know
why the ringing made his hands sweat, but it did. He hadn’t heard her voice in six
and a half weeks, but she had just texted five minutes ago, so she had to have
her phone on her. Three rings . . . four…

“Zach?”

“Violet,” he
breathed. His eyes closed slowly at the sound of her voice, waves of longing almost
making him dizzy. “God, I miss you, baby.”

“Me too.” Her
voice was small and broke a little bit. “So much.”

“Are you okay?”

“Aside from my
date with a bottle of
Glenlivet
last Thursday night?
Yeah, I’m okay. And you know?” She sniffed softly and he hated that she was
probably crying. “I’m actually writing good stuff. I always write better when
I’m sad.”

He clenched his
jaw until it ached. “I’m sorry you’re sad.”

“If I tell you I
love you, will you leave Ireland right this minute and come home?” Her words
came out in a rush.

He winced, lifting
one booted foot against the wall behind him, letting the back of his head rest
on the cool cinder block, one hand on top of his guitar.

“I, uh, I’ll be
home soon,” he said softly, his world rocked by her unexpected question.

“
Yo
, Zach!” Zach looked up to see
Severin
Slade, lead singer of the Mechanics, approaching him. “We’re on in two!”

“Yeah,
Sev
. I’ll be there.” He swallowed. He didn’t want to hang
up. He never wanted to hang up. “I have to go. I’ll be back on Christmas Eve,
Vile. Only a week and a half.”

“Okay,” she said.
“I’ll be at my Mom’s in Portland. Would you consider . . . I mean, would you—”

“Anything, Vile.
Just ask me.”

“I know you’ll
just be getting back to New York, but would you consider driving up to Maine?
For Christmas?”

“My flight
arrives late on Christmas Eve. I’ll rent a car at the airport and leave on
Christmas morning.”

“Thank God,” she
half-sighed, half-sobbed and he clenched his eyes hard, overwhelmed by the
relief he heard in her voice.

“Violet, I—”

“I miss you so
much,” she said, and her voice broke again.

“I miss you too,”
he said, then tore the phone away from his ear and pressed end, rather than
prolonging the torture. He felt unraveled and undone by the quick conversation.

If I tell you I love you, will you leave Ireland
right this minute and come home?

She had surprised
him when she said that, taken him totally off guard. And then asking him to
spend Christmas with her. They were getting close. They were getting so close
to forever. He could feel it.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Zach didn’t
love clichés, but he’d do whatever it took—he’d have gladly spent eternity on
his knees to hear Violet say she loved him again.

It was going to
happen for them. Finally. He was sure of it.

Ten days. Only ten
more days.

“
Yo
, Z!”

He grabbed his
guitar and headed for the stage.

Chapter
21

Eight days later,
Violet sat in front of Herman Healey’s desk at Masterson House Publishing. He
had left her alone in the office, looking for his assistant to bring them
coffee and proofs of her cover. As excited as Violet was to see the cover for
her poetry collection, mostly her life felt like it was propelling with
increased urgency and speed toward Friday night, Christmas Eve, when Zach would
be returning from his tour. For the first time she could remember, Violet
wouldn’t be returning to Maine to spend Christmas with her mother and her
mother’s boyfriend. Although Zach didn’t know it yet, she planned to spend it
in New York with him, she planned to be at his apartment waiting for him when
he got home.

She’d tracked
down Cora Aubrey last week.

“Hi, Cora. I
don’t know if you’ll remember me because we met so long ago, but this is—”

“Violet Smith,”
Cora said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you
called.”

“I’m so sorry to
be calling you at work, but Zach mentioned to me that you were working on a
restoration project in Upstate New York, and I needed to talk to you, so I
tracked you down.”

“No problem. I
would have called you to talk about my train wreck of a brother, but I didn’t
want to scare you away.”

Huh. Zach must
have told her everything.

“Just so you
know, Zach painted broad strokes, Violet. We don’t talk about the nitty-gritty.
Well. Unless we’re drunk.” She laughed, and Violet relaxed. “Never seen my
brother like this.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He’s
pretty much a lost cause over you.”

“I’m pretty much
a lost cause over
him
,” Violet said.

“Ah, phew!
That’s good to hear. I mean, Zach deserves to be tested a little after what he
put you through. But if you don’t want him, well, cut him loose, you know?
Because he’s—”

Violet winced
and smiled at the same time, loving the words that were coming, hating that she
was causing him any pain.

“—really in love
with you.”

“I’m really in
love with him too.”

“Well, that’s a
relief! If you’ll forgive me for being a pushy little sister, plan to tell
him
anytime soon?”

“
Little
sister?”

“He came first.”

“I didn’t know,”
she said, loving this new information. “Hey, I have a favor to ask, Cora.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Zach’s coming
back to New York next Friday. And I wanted to be there, in his apartment. You
know, waiting for him. I want to decorate a Christmas tree and have dinner
waiting. I don’t want him to come home to a cold apartment. I love him. I want—”

“Don’t look now,
Violet. But that’s the second time in ten minutes you’ve told me that you love
my brother.”

“Huh,” Violet murmured
with wonder. Cora was right. The words had finally come freely and without
forethought. They just
existed
,
finally, finally returned to her. She started to giggle, and she covered her
mouth to muffle the sound. She just hoped her courage wouldn’t fail her when
Zach stood before her.

“Violet,” said
Cora softly. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

“I know.”

“What do you
need from me? Just name it.”

“Key to his
apartment? Any allergies. Favorite color Christmas lights.”

“I’ll FedEx it.
Soft-shell crab. Blue.”

Violet giggled
again. “Thanks.”

“Text me your
address.” There was a long pause before she heard Cora’s quiet, raspy, wistful
voice. “This might sound weird but . . . thanks for loving him. You two are a
long time coming.”

“Bye, Cora.”

Since receiving
the spare key in the mail from Cora, Violet had gone to Zach’s apartment once.
It was predictably neat, but she found his vacuum and ran it anyway, dusting
the surfaces and opening the windows to air it out. Later tonight, she was
having a Christmas tree delivered, and two large Target bags sat beside her in
Herman’s office, filled with blue twinkle lights, silver garland, and beautiful
blue, aqua, and silver bulbs. Zach’s apartment had the most amazing music collection
she’d ever seen, but it didn’t have one Christmas CD. Happily, Violet’s
iPhone
was stocked with a huge collection, so she’d listen
to John Denver and Simon and Garfunkel sing her favorite Christmas songs as she
decked Zach’s halls.

“You said one
sugar, right?”

Violet looked up
to see Herman walking through the office doorway, holding two cups of coffee
and a manila file folder under his arm. She smiled and reached for the
proffered cup.

“Perfect.
Thanks.”

“You were quick
with those edits, Smith. I appreciate that. I like to run a tight ship. Which
is saying something in publishing.”

His eyes crinkled
as he sat down heavily in his cracked and ancient leather desk chair. His desk
was covered with papers, manuscripts, notes, and quarter-filled paper coffee
cups. How he managed to find anything was beyond her.

He was a
heavyset man, not very tall, with wobbly jowls and reading glasses that he wore
low on his nose. Adjusting the glasses, he opened the folder before him and
licked his finger before picking up the paper on top and handing it to Violet.

“So? What do you
think?”

Tears sprang
into Violet’s eyes as she drew the glossy piece of heavy-stock paper closer to
her eyes. The cover of her book showed a man and a woman lying in bed together
asleep, with warm sunlight softening their features. Their hands were laced
together over the man’s wavy brown hair where the woman’s hand lightly rested.
It was sweet and intimate, sexy and yet tasteful. It was Veronica and Nash. It
was Violet and Zach.

“From your face,
Smith? I’m guessing you like it.”

“You nailed it,
sir.” She looked at Herman before looking back down at the warm, sensual cover
that read
The Chosen Landscape
. She
smiled at the words from Verlaine’s “Clair de Lune,” remembering when she’d
touched the tattoo on Zach’s neck, under his chestnut hair.

“With all due
respect, Smith,
you
nailed it. Your verses
are visceral. They’re the best stuff I’ve read in forever, and we’re about to
net a whole new generation of poetry readers with your words. A fresh voice. If
I had to guess? I’d say you’re going to be a best seller.” He smiled as he took
the cover proof out of Violet’s hand to place it snugly back in the manila
file. “I’ll be honest, when John Lewis called me that day and asked for a
poetry
contract, I just about fell out
of my chair, but—”

“W-what?”
Violet’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open again as her heart kicked into
a gallop. She took a shaky breath. “What did you . . . what does . . .? I mean,
what does John Lewis have to do with . . .?”

“Yeah, I got the
better end of that deal, eh? Oh, I didn’t know his reasons at the time, but he
was pretty insistent, and since Cornerstone was picking up the tab on your
contract, it made no sense to refuse a favor. You never know when we might need
one of the Cornerstone guys for a cross-promotion, right? Lucky me you turned
out to be so talented.”

Violet’s chest
compressed as she stared at Herman’s kind eyes. He shrugged lightly, picking up
his coffee cup. “I guess he wanted some guitarist to go on tour, but the guy
would only go if I agreed to contract your work. I mean, I don’t generally
offer people advances that big for poetry, but . . .”

“John Lewis
bought me a contract?” she asked.

“Technically the
guitarist bought you a contract,” said Herman. “You’re talented as hell, though
I suspect he kept it from you just in case you objected to his methods. But I
figure, if a man loves a woman that much? Well, she has the right to know it.”

Violet’s eyes
brimmed with tears as she looked down at her lap. A tissue appeared before her
face, and she took it gratefully, pressing it to her eyes.

“Have to go
check on something. Take a moment, Smith.” Herman maneuvered himself out of his
chair and pressed a palm gently to her shoulder before closing the office door
softly behind him.

Zach didn’t want
to leave her to go on tour. He’d gone on tour
for
her, to make her dreams come true. Tears poured down her face
until the tissue was saturated.

Violet, you don’t get it. I keep saying it and you
don’t get it. I’d do anything for you but let you go. I love you.

She cracked her
knuckles, wiped her face and took a deep, restorative breath.

“Oh, Zach,” she
sighed. “I’ve been such an idiot not to trust you.”

Her attention
was suddenly drawn to her purse, sitting next to the Target shopping bags by
her feet. Her cell phone chimed to indicate a text waiting.

Manchester was a
packed house last night. Good energy.

How’s my girl?

What are you
getting me for Christmas, Vile?

How about me in
your bed?

That’s the only
thing on my list.

Z

Violet smiled at
the screen. Whatever plans she had to tell him she loved him in person on
Friday were suddenly blown out of the water. She needed to tell him
now
. Right now. She took out her phone
and started typing. When she was finished, she grinned at the words and pressed
send.

***

“What’re you
doing for Christmas?” asked
Severin
Slade, sitting
across the table from Zach on the tour bus from Manchester to London. They had two
final London performances tonight and tomorrow night before heading back to the
States on Friday.

Even though Zach
had played with the Mechanics before, in the studio, this tour represented his
first bout of extended contact with them, and he was surprised to find
Sev
a bright and interesting guy under his rocker persona. His
parents were college professors in England, and he’d spent a year at Oxford
before taking his garage band on the road. That was ten years ago. Now? He was
a major artist at Cornerstone.

“Spending it
with my girlfriend,” said Zach. “You?”

“It’s easy for
me. Quick train ride up to Oxford to see Mum and Dad.”
Sev
smiled, his face surprisingly innocent-looking when he wasn’t sneering and
shouting into a microphone.

“What’s the deal
with the chick you’re always texting?” asked
Sev
,
glancing at Zach’s phone, which never left his hand unless there was a guitar
in it.

Zach felt his
face soften. “We needed a little time, but it’s all good now, I think.”

“You think?”

“Man, I’d ask
her to marry me tomorrow if she’d have me.”

“Who’d want your
sorry ass? Poor chit!”

“Fuck you,
Sev
.” But Zach laughed good-naturedly.

“Yeah, fuck me.
I don’t even have a
possible
someone.”

“You should meet
my sister, Cora,” said Zach, thinking she could do worse. Cora’s fiery
personality would be a good match for
Severin’s
easygoing ways. And they were both brilliant, so at least she wouldn’t be bored.

“Yeah? You
angling to make me family? She as ugly as you?”

“Fuck you, man.
She’s my sister.”

“Right. Sorry.
Been on the road too long. Forget to be civilized.”

Zach’s phone
buzzed, and he grinned at
Sev
before turning it over.

Call me, Z!

I need to talk
to you right now!

(I know how I
got my contract.)

V

He read her
words and then reread them. And again. His heart started thumping like the drum
solo from “Wipe Out!” His whole body tingled unpleasantly from the sudden
adrenaline rush, and he felt like a vulnerable child again, the way he felt
when he and Cora would return from a summer day playing hooky at the lighthouse
or castle to find his father waiting with a shoe to beat him for being away
from the piano for so long. That terrible feeling of knowing he’d done
something wrong and been found out.

She knew. She
knew he’d bought her contract. Arranged it.

And she wanted
to
talk
to him, the conventional kiss
of death in any relationship. He’d bought her contract which basically screamed
that he didn’t think she could get a contract on her own merit. And after all
the times he’d insisted on how talented she was, it made him a liar. He’d
just
won back her trust and now she’d
see him as a liar.

Oh, my God. Oh, God. She’s going to break up with
me.

His heart
twisted and he slammed the phone on the table – and worst of all, she’d think
he didn’t believe in her enough to make it on her own. Inadvertently, he’d done
the exact same thing to her that Smalley had done: undermined her work and
dismissed her talent. Smalley was just more upfront about it.