Page 15 of To Bring You Back
He sighed and let his gaze wander the yard. A trail of broad, flat stones led from the patio by the house where he sat, through the lush lawn, to a second seating area along the cliff. A three-foot-tall stone wall separated the observation area from a one-hundred-foot drop to the lake. An island designated as a state park formed a green mass out in the water. Between there and the cliff, a sightseeing ship navigated away from its Lakeshore dock toward the lighthouse on the island.
From this distance, the tourists on the viewing decks were nothing more than dots of color.
The peace and inspiration he’d come for seemed equally far off, but pressure was mounting to write something worth recording. Even now, Tim was inside, arranging security for the grounds and a crew to set up a recording studio in one of Havenridge’s offices. A recording studio Gannon currently had no use for.
He set aside his notes for the latest Adeline song and pulled his guitar closer. Maybe lyrics unrelated to her would come if he started with music.
He hadn’t gotten far when his phone rang.
John was up and making phone calls this early on a Monday? That couldn’t be good.
He answered on speaker. “What happened now?”
“How’s the trip?”
“Just sat down to work.”
“Huh.” John fell silent a few beats. “How’s Addie?”
Ah. John had always had his quiet way of looking out for her. When the drummer had returned from a visit home over the holidays, he’d mentioned running into her. “You should go see her,” he’d said. “Button up the past. She could use that.”
They’d been interrupted, and when Gannon brought her up again later, John had brushed him off saying, “She’s okay. Getting by.”
That Adeline might only be “okay” and “getting by” had gnawed at Gannon.
Until then, he’d told himself she was better off without him. Once he’d started worrying about her and the impact he’d had on her, his songs had dried up. He couldn’t write about anything but her, which meant he had little for Awestruck’s next album.
He’d prayed and prayed for other inspiration, but the only answer he could discern was that if he wanted peace and usable music, he needed to face Adeline.
So here he was, but what he’d seen since arriving hadn’t comforted him. Adeline had let go of her dreams, and she clung to anger like a lifeline.
Gannon plucked a melody on the strings.
“So?” John prompted. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s angry.”
“You blame her?”
“No.”
“No?”
Gannon sighed.
John talked like he drummed; he drove at the beat relentlessly, but he left the words for someone else to fill in.
“I accept that I’m responsible for my actions, and I was wrong, but I didn’t act alone. She’s acting like I did, blaming me for everything.”
“That’s the trouble with you front men.”
Despite years of decoding John’s cryptic statements, Gannon didn’t follow, so he waited.
“You think it’s all about you. Adeline Green had dreams as big as ours, and she hasn’t moved on any of them. She’s barely scraping by, and it’s not because she’s mad at you.”
“You think she’s punishing herself?”
“It’d be great if she’d stop.”
