Page 25 of Perfect Composition
I’m determined to find it today.
Daddy told the story again at the dinner table last night. Ethan, Jesse, and I all loved the fact that he brought Mama out to the original Kensington homestead to propose. But he said the location was a secret. It wasn’t written down, and the markers were only passed along to sons.
I call bullshit. She was my mother too, damnit. I should get to see where Daddy proposed. After all, if it wasn’t for me, Ethan, and Jesse…
I put my head down and ride. Hard. And I think of the clues that Daddy unwittingly gave away.
We rode for what felt like hours.
There’s the most beautiful stone fence nearby we sat on for hours. Just talkin’, so get that thought out of your heads.
It springs up on you like magic.
When I lay awake last night, recalling every word Daddy spoke, I stared at the picture of my mother I keep on my bedside, willing her to tell me.Please, Mama, I want to know. I need to know.
And as Sunflower gallops over the hard earth, through the fields she was named after, I hear disjointed music. Reining her in, I pause, trying to make certain I’m not just hearing something my heart is wishing for.
Then, there’s a discordant slam that carries over the wind due east that makes my head jerk. I begin walking Sunflower in the direction of the somewhat harmonious music. My pulse starts hammering against my ribs when I realize we’re passing through an old stone wall, painstakingly put together by my ancestors.
And maybe twenty yards away, someone’s playing the ancient piano.
Gotcha.
I wake up with a jerk, breathing hard in the hotel room. Then I hear screaming, and I race from my bed, not bothering to put on a robe. “Austyn, what is it?” I yell.
“Mama! I’m in all the news feeds. People loved the show last night!” She’s holding her phone like it’s the winning lottery ticket.
I clutch the back of the sofa, trying to get my bearings from the dream and my daughter’s exuberance. “I thought you were being stabbed.”
“No, that would be a different kind of screaming. I could demonstrate.”
I groan. “Please don’t. I think this hotel is lovely and would like to stay in it a few more nights.”
Austyn is about to retort when her phone beeps with an incoming text. “Crap.”
I frown. “What is it?”
“You know the guy who was checking my sound last night? Trevor?”
“I met about eighty new people yesterday, Austyn.”
“Fair point. He was the guy walking around the club with the mic making sure the sound was good from random locations in the club. If it was off, I could adjust it from the booth.”
I recall the fair-haired young man in glasses holding an iPad. “Yes. Now I recall him. What’s wrong?”
“Slipped off the sidewalk this morning when he was trying to read the reviews. Ankle’s jacked. He’s at Urgent Care. I bet I can’t find anyone who can do that on such short notice.”
“Is he professionally trained?” I query as I go over to the room service menu and debate whether we should stay in or go out to eat.
“No, just a friend. The software is actually a lot like your… Mama.” Her tone of voice isn’t lost on me.
“No. Anything is a no before coffee. You know better than that.”
“Then let me take you to breakfast, and then I’ll ask,” she practically purrs. Her expression, so dejected before, has already lightened considerably.
Crap. I know that whatever it is, I’m going to say yes.
“You know I didn’t pack for a second night of going out, Austyn,” I say as I stir my coffee. I can feel myself caving over eggs Benedict.
