Page 2 of Rim Shot Rebound

Lauren, their fiddler and newest member, looked back and forth between Kelsey and Natalie. She tucked her long, reddish-brown hair behind her ears, then nodded and left them alone. Kelsey really liked her. Losing their friend and original fiddle player, Camille, during her stint in rehab had been quite a blow, but Lauren was fitting in pretty well with the group so far. Both on fiddle and as part of their little found family.

“So what gives?” Natalie nodded at the candy in Kelsey’s hand.

Kelsey shrugged. “Sweet tooth.”

“Bullshit. Twice this past month you’ve mentioned not feeling well. And lately I haven’t seen you without a mint or a sucker or some sour candy in your mouth.” Natalie raised her eyebrows. “Got something you want to tell me?”

Kelsey’s brain flashed back to the damn plastic stick with the pink line on it. She’d called Nat as soon as she saw the results, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell Nat the truth. Instead, she’d made up some reason for calling, then hung up and cried on her bathroom floor.

“Not yet.”

Natalie frowned. “Well, you know where to find me when you do, right?”

“Absolutely.”

They left the rest unsaid. One of the many reasons Kelsey loved Natalie like the sister she’d never had.

They left the house together and crossed Robin’s property to the little workshop that was several yards behind the main house. The mixture of warm-up notes from the bass, fiddle, and accordion danced on the spring breeze. Natalie opened the door and a cacophony of sounds flooded out from the studio.

Kelsey squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked inside to the drum set in the back. Right beside Eric.

His head was down, bobbing along with the rhythm as the long, dark fingers of one hand danced along the neck of his upright bass, and the other hand plucked furiously at the strings farther down. He cradled the wood so soulfully it made Kelsey jealous of the instrument every time she watched him lost in the music that way.

She broke her gaze away from him and focused. Then she snatched her sticks from the resting spot on the snare and straddled the throne to test out the bass pedal, making sure it moved smoothly, but also banging out a few frustrated poundings. She gripped a stick in each hand and twisted her wrists furiously back and forth, warming up her forearms, and bent back her fingers to stretch out her muscles.

The good news was that she didn’t feel sick anymore. Not with the sounds of her favorite people playing their favorite bits of melodies all around her. This…this was home for Kelsey. The home and family she’d never had before. The one she’d been looking for all her life.

But while she didn’t feel like she was going to hurl on her snare, sitting next to Eric filled her with incredible emptiness and frustration. She had accepted months ago that they were never going to be together again. Not in any way that really mattered. Nothing would magically change the fact that she would never be enough for him. Not her by herself.

She instinctively looked down at her stomach, but snapped her head back up.

Fine. She’d accepted that. She just needed to figure out how to get through this next big performance. How to play beside him every week without wanting to throw her arms around him. Because that wasn’t part of her reality anymore. They weren’t a reality anymore.

She just needed to hang on for another couple of months. She’d figure the rest out later.

She dug into a long, loud roll on the snare and ended it with the crack of a rim shot to get their attention. “We ready or what?”

Robin released a last long note on her accordion while Lauren and Natalie dropped their instruments. Kelsey didn’t look to see what Eric was doing.

“So is everyone cool with the set list I sent out for the festival next month?” Robin asked. When everyone nodded in agreement, she said, “Lauren, you good?”

“Yup,” Lauren said. “Still working through some originals, but I’ll have them down after a couple more weeks for sure.”

Kelsey remembered back to that last email Robin sent out over the weekend, and how Robin had asked if they were all free one Saturday afternoon that month. “You said something about a new gig?”

“Oh yeah. Private party. A company crawfish boil. Everyone still good for that next Saturday?”

“Yeah,” Kelsey said. “Just wondering what it was.”

“Real low-key,” Robin said. “I figure we can play mostly standards and a few originals Lauren’s solid on so far. I’ll send out a set list for that one this weekend, then we can run through all of that next Thursday before the gig. Should be fine.”

“Sounds good,” Eric chimed in.

Kelsey forced herself to look at Robin. Only at Robin.

She could do this. One rehearsal at a time. A month and a half. Focus.

Robin cleared her throat nervously. That couldn’t be good. Robin was their rock, the one who kept them all in check and kept the band running smoothly. She was never nervous. At least not visibly.

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