Page 32 of Unlocking Melodies

The snort Liam let out could have won awards for most eloquent non-verbal commentary.

“You could say that.” He settled into the chair across from me. “You told me about how you met him. Practice Room at Rosewood Academy. Late-night piano sessions. You used to talk about those nights sometimes.” He trailed off, clearly weighing how much to share of conversations I couldn't remember having.

“We were friends?” The word felt inadequate even as I said it.

“You were...” Liam seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “Close. You spent most nights composing together. He had all this classical training, but you taught him to play by ear. To feel the music instead of just reading it.”

I stared at the photo again. The Ethan there was worlds away from the polished man who'd gotten his car stuck in the mud. His smile was unguarded, real in a way I hadn't seen since he arrived in town.

“What happened?” I asked, though something in me tensed for the answer.

Liam's hesitation spoke paragraphs. “He left after graduation. No explanation, just a letter.”

“A letter?” The word tasted bitter somehow, though I couldn't say why.

“You never let anyone read it.” Liam's voice was gentle. “Just said it was better this way.”

I traced the edge of the photo, trying to reconcile these laughing boys with the careful distance Ethan maintained now. The way his perfect posture seemed to slip whenever he thought no one was watching. The way his eyes followed me when he thought I wouldn't notice.

“Did I...” I started, then reconsidered. “Were we...”

“That's not my story to tell.” Liam stood, squeezing my shoulder. “But maybe ask yourself why just looking at that photo made you forget to drink your coffee for the first time since I've known you.”

I looked down at my now-cold cup, then back at the yearbook. Young Ethan and Jimmy looked so sure of themselves, so completely in their element. Now here we were - him pretending to work while watching me from corner booths, me trying to piece together a life that felt like someone else's puzzle.

“He keeps sending things to help,” I said, thinking of the accounting software, the festival offer. “But he won't actually talk to me.”

“Yeah, well.” Liam's voice held years of history I couldn't access. “Some people find it easier to show they care through grand gestures than simple conversations.”

The morning sun painted shadows across the photo, across those younger versions of us who had no idea what was coming.I wondered if Past Jimmy had known, in that captured moment of laughter, that everything was about to change.

“How do you move forward,” I asked the coffee cup, “when you can't remember what you're supposed to be moving on from?”

“Maybe,” Liam said from the doorway, “that's not the worst thing. Clean slate and all that.”

But the photo seemed to disagree, those captured smiles suggesting that some things weren't meant to be forgotten. Even if all that remained were echoes of feelings I couldn't quite name, carried in muscle memory and coffee preferences and the way my heart stuttered whenever green eyes met mine across crowded rooms.

I closed the yearbook, but the image stayed with me - two boys at a piano, sharing something that looked an awful lot like joy. Whatever had happened after that moment, at least we'd had that.

I was still processing the yearbook revelation when Hank burst into the kitchen, his usual stoic demeanor ruffled.

“That mare of yours is making a break for it. Again.” He gestured vaguely toward the gardens. “Heading straight for the fancy suit taking calls by the roses.”

It took my brain a second to connect “fancy suit” with “Ethan” and by then we were already moving. We rounded the corner to find what had to be the most surreal sight I have ever seen.

“Yes, the quarterly projections are- No, that sound was- I apologize, there seems to be a...” Ethan attempted to dodge Melody's affectionate headbutt while keeping his phone steady. His perfect suit was now decorated with horse hair, and his carefully styled hair was getting thoroughly rearranged by Melody's investigations.

“Looks like she's found her new favorite person,” Liam said with an odd note in his voice, watching Ethan's futile attempts to maintain his composure.

I filed that comment away with all the other pieces that didn't quite fit - a growing collection of hints about a past I couldn't access. The yearbook photo flashed in my mind: those same green eyes, but lighter somehow, freer.

Later, going through the ranch accounts, I found an invoice that didn't make sense - a regular charge for piano tuning.

“Oh, that,” Caleb said when I asked, doing that now-familiar dance of 'how much do we tell him.' “You used to play. Really well, actually. The piano's still in the main house music room.”

I found myself standing in front of a beautiful upright piano before I'd really decided to move. My fingers hovered over the keys, and something strange happened - like my hands knew something my mind had forgotten.

Without conscious thought, I pressed a key. Then another. A melody emerged, something haunting and unfinished, like a question without an answer.

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