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“And what about you?” Darcy asked. “Will you still make music?”
With all my plans to make this a thriving cultural center and artists’ hub it was easy to forget about my own work. I felt warmth flow through me as Darcy questioned this, as if she wanted to gently remind me why I started thinking about this recording studio in the first place.
“I want a solo career,” I told her. I had spent so long denying this, trying to assure the world that I wasn’t leaving the Horizon, that it felt strange to say these words out loud. But then I felt relief wash over me. I knew all at once that I couldn’t deny this truth anymore.
“I want to record an acoustic album of my new songs. It’ll be a test drive for the new studio. My first album.”
“Show me,” she said. I looked around the room, thinking she wanted even more details about what the space was going to look like.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “There’s nothing else to show. Just the lobby space, the hallway, and the studio spaces.”
“No,” she said, smiling at me. She crossed back to the front door, and I saw my guitar case sitting on the ground. She picked it up and held it out to me. “Show me.”
So, this was what she had in mind. I suddenly understood why she had asked me to bring my guitar along. The request felt intimate, and I had an initial instinct to say no. I had performed in front of hundreds and thousands of people, but an audience of one was much more intimidating. Especially in front of Darcy. But I pushed down those feelings and took the case from her.
I placed it on the ground and took out my guitar.
“Well, the studio will be about here,” I said. I crossed to an aisle that held dog food and other pet supplies. Darcy smirked, and I wondered if she would laugh about my surroundings, but she composed herself and stood a bit away, leaning against the shelf as she watched me.
I couldn’t think of what to play. I didn’t know what she was expecting from me. Should I choose one of the Horizon’s hit songs? They would sound very different on an acoustic guitar. I had a feeling it wasn’t what she was expecting after all this talk about my solo career.
And then, all at once I knew what I would play.
“This one’s not even finished yet. But it’s something I’ve been working on.”
“Great,” Darcy said. She was watching me with a straight face as if she were a music producer putting me through my paces at an audition. “And does it have a title?”
“A working title,” I said. “It’s called ‘Coming Home’.”
I saw the slight surprise on her face as I strummed the first chord on my guitar. These lyrics had been floating around in my head for days, though I hadn’t put them down on paper yet. But somehow I knew the song was almost finished, even though I had only composed it in brief moments of quiet when my mind was allowed to wander.
I closed my eyes, feeling too exposed with Darcy looking at me, and let myself disappear into the music. The chords that had only existed in my head sounded even better than I imagined, and suddenly I opened my mouth and allowed the lyrics to flow. I sang about long-lost memories in my hometown and seeing things differently through adult eyes. I sang about learning what mattered to me and the cost of fame. And then I sang about the “girl next door” who opened my eyes to what home really meant.
“It’s not finished,” I said, as I opened my eyes and looked back to her. I had worked out the chorus and the first few verses, but I hadn’t found the resolution yet. “I don’t know how the story ends.”
Her face was soft, and full of surprise. I could tell I had touched her, and I was glad she understood that this song was all about her and what she had done to me.
“It’s beautiful,” she said. Her eyes seemed to sparkle, as if she were fighting back tears.
“It’s about you, you know,” I confirmed. I wouldn’t let her think otherwise. I wanted her to know how much she meant to me, and I wouldn’t let her question that.
“I kind of got that,” she laughed. She moved closer to me and then her hand was on my face, forcing me to look into her eyes. She kissed me, my guitar pressed between us, and there was something celebratory and exciting in that kiss. I could see us here months from now, after the renovations were complete. I could see us locking up the studio late at night and making out in the hallways after everyone went home.
“What do you think?” I asked, pulling back from her. “Did I convince you?”
Her expression changed then, and I realized I had pushed too hard. I couldn’t rush her. I needed her to come to this decision all on her own. Darcy crossed away from me and went back to the front of the hardware store. She stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows and took in the people walking down Main Street. The day was passing from afternoon to evening, and we stood and watched as people left work and locked up their shops to go home for dinner.
I stood next to her and stayed silent. I could be patient. I was starting to realize that I would wait for Darcy for as long as it took. I was starting to think that I had always been waiting for her.
21
DARCY
“Ican’t sell it to you,” I said, spinning around to face him. I saw his face fall as he took in the words, and I felt a stab of guilt as I saw that I had disappointed him.
“I get it,” he said. Callum walked his guitar back to the case and began packing it away. He was avoiding my gaze as he did it. “This place is important to you. I understand you don’t want someone coming in and replacing it with a whole other business.”
“I didn’t say that,” I said, stepping closer to him. Callum looked up from where he was bent over his guitar case, snapping the latches into place. I forced myself to hold back the smile I felt bubbling inside of me, but I think he saw my smirk because he stood up, his face suspicious.
