Chapter One
“Isaac, what’s happening?” She always asks this question.
Before it all fell apart, I’d tell her, “I’ve got you.”
I knew it was a lie, even in the dream—like my subconscious was trying to will it to be true. Didn’t work. Now I lie there, mute, trying to hold on to her perfect image while she searches my face with wide, frightened eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, just before I kill Juli with my bare hands.
I woke up gasping the first time. Now I pull the musty pillow over my head and groan, knowing the nightmare will follow me the rest of the day. After everything fell apart at the Mardi Gras ball, word spread quickly. The city of Mobile is no stranger to scandal, but scandal usually of the political sort, not the lurid kind. I’ve been cast out from my job as organist at my life-long church. Within twenty-four hours, all my students’ parents called to cancel their lessons. The Mobile Symphony asked that I remove myself from the committee for the Mobile Sonata Contest.
Only Uncle Robert had a sound suggestion—that I take a break from music for a while and do something physical, something that leaves me too tired in the evenings to act on any urges I might have. I believe his reasoning was twofold. Doing landscaping work for hours in the hot sun also gives a man time to think, even when you’ve exhausted everything there is to think about.
You want to know the sad truth? I only think about the pain I caused her, the innocence I stole, the way I willingly put her at risk. As God is my witness, I will never forget the look on her face as she stood in the spotlight at that ball with the devil’s harpy at her elbow, spilling our sacred secret.
I’ve analyzed this thing from every angle possible, and still I don’t know where I’d change our course. All I can do is keep trudging forward through each day, and then the next. So that’s what I do.
After a quick shower in my toxic bathroom, I pull on heavy workpants, over-the-calf socks, and a dark green T-shirt with the landscaping company’s logo on the pocket—Southern ’Scapes. After a quick swig of coffee, I pull the door shut behind me, lock it, and click the key fob to unlock my Charger. I’m surprised it hasn’t been repossessed yet. I’m sure that day is swiftly approaching.
“Be careful today, Mobile. We’re tracking a high-pressure system that’ll keep us upward of ninety-five degrees for the next week, with humidity holding steady at seventy percent. With those numbers, you can count on pop-up thunderstorms in the afternoon.”
I punch a button on the radio and it brings up Rachmaninoff. “Figures.” I punch another one and get heavy rock. That’s more like it.
Our first job of the day is digging out a lady’s ancient, unkempt azaleas and replacing them with new ones. It’s hard, dusty work that threatens to break my back. I like it.
“Hey, Romeo. You think you could gimme a hand with these roots?” Most of the time I get along just fine with my boss, Herman. Don’t really care for the nickname he’s given me though. Still, I’m grateful he gave me a job.
“Sure. I’ll get the Sawzall.”
“Nah, we don’t need no power tools. We’ll just dig ‘em out.”
“If you say so, boss.”
He grins at me and I know he’s throwing down a challenge. None of these guys know about what happened and I’d like to keep it that way. They think I was in construction or some other blue-collar job since I’m bigger than most of the other workers. They’d never believe I was a classically trained pianist, so I let them draw whatever conclusions they want.
At the end of the day, I’m filthy and hungry but satisfied that I put in an honest day’s work. Barely even think about her. That changes when I pull into my driveway and Uncle Robert is sitting on the porch tapping his cane to a tune only he can hear. Can’t look at him without picturing him in his tux, Juli on his arm. In my head, she smiles and beckons me with a crooked finger.
“Good grief, Isaac. Did you roll around in the dirt like a common pig?” He winks and smiles.
“Close. Come on in. Just gimme a minute to shower and I’ll be right with you. Tea’s in the fridge, help yourself.”
“No hurry, boy. I’ve got time.”
His visit worries me. Lately, he’s been conducting our conversations over the phone. A personal call means something’s up.
“Stop scowling, Isaac. Here, I fixed you a sandwich while you showered. You’re a little low on…everything. It’s the best I could do.”
“Thanks.”
“Sit. Eat. I’ll talk.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod at the small bag that’s appeared on the counter. “What’s that?”
“A small present. Here.” He pulls out a can of furniture polish and a cleaning cloth then laughs at my raised eyebrow. “No, I’m not telling you to clean your room, though I suspect it would also benefit from this.” He nods toward the other room. “I think it’s time you dusted her off and began again.”
My sandwich turns to sawdust in my mouth, sticking in my throat as I struggle to swallow it down past the lump that’s suddenly formed. “Came here to tell me to dust my piano?”
“It’s not a joke, Isaac. You can’t stay away from it forever. It’s part of who you are.”
A snort escapes before I can stop it. “Don’t want to be who I am.”
“That’s enough of that.” Uncle Robert shakes a finger in my face. “You can’t change what happened, but you can change how you deal with it. Whatever you’re doing isn’t working. Glad to see you getting out and working hard, but you’re still moping. Hiding. If you plan to stay in Mobile, you can’t do that. It’s been nearly two months. Time to come out of your prison cell and start again. You know I’ll be there every step of the way to help you.”
“Yeah,” I drawl, “but you’re the only one.” I push my plate away.
“Your mother will come around. So will your sisters.”
“Great. That’s three people who’ll speak to me.”
“No word from Dave?”
I shake my head. No, no word from the guy who’s been my best friend since freshman year of college. We’ve been though undergrad and graduate school together, a European tour, numerous girlfriends, possible fatherhood, and everything imaginable in between. But my last bone-headed move—that was too much.
“Sunday is Easter. Come to church with me, please.”
“You kidding? Me, Daniel. Church, lion’s den. Not happening.”
“Glass houses. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.”
“Sorry, Uncle Robert, there’s just no way I can ever go back there. There are just too many…”
He places his wrinkled hand over mine. “Yes, too many memories. I understand. And yes, Julianne will probably be there.”
Can’t help it—hearing her name out loud sets off a physical tremor that starts at my head and ends at my toes. Not very manly, perhaps, but there it is.
“Isaac?”
“Hmm?”
“Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I meet his steady gaze.
“I won’t let you do this to yourself. Not again. It’s different this time.”
“Yeah. It’s worse.”
“No. What happened…happened. I think most people could forgive and forget what went on between you two, just like before with Heather Swann.”
“Really? Did you lose your job, your students, your friends—including your best friend—your professional connections? Do you get funny looks at the grocery store, even though you make sure to go late at night when you won’t run into so many people? Do mothers pull their daughters closer when they see you? Don’t know why I’m still here. Should be back in Boston, or somewhere else entirely. Start over.”
“Isaac, listen to me. It’s time to stop running. Yes?”
I shake my head.
“People could forgive what happened between you and Juli. What they have a hard time digesting is your reaction. You ran. They understood why you ran when you were a teenager, but you’re nearly thirty. Time to grow up, Isaac. Time to be the man your father would’ve expected you to be. The kind I expect you to be.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’ll never be that kind of man.”