Besides, once she’d turned twenty-one it really wasn’t an issue.
In all the times she had been getting together with friends at Finnegan’s she had never gotten up onstage. Damon and the others believed it was because she was shy and would be too embarrassed. It wasn’t the truth, but she let them think it.
As if reading her thoughts, Damon said, “Think you’ll get onstage and tell a joke or sing a song tonight?”
“Probably not.”
“You’ve said those exact words every time I’ve asked you that question. It’s never going to happen, is it?”
Since tonight was their last night together the answer was obvious. “Probably not.”
Damon turned into the lot next to Finnegan’s. Eyeing the perfect parking space, he shot forward to get it before anyone else could.
She looked around at all the cars and said, “You’re right. The club’s going to be crowded tonight.”
He wasn’t paying much attention to her now, concentrating on backing his beloved Porsche between two cars, leaving enough room so the doors wouldn’t get dinged when they got out. Satisfied, he put the car in park and carefully opened his door. “Yes, it’s going to be crowded and loud inside, so if you want to have sex with me tonight, now would be the time to tell me.”
“What would your girlfriends say?”
His grin was downright salacious. “They’d understand.”
As they walked side by side across the lot, she slipped her arm through his. “Do you think you’ll ever settle down and get married?” she asked.
“Doubtful. What about you?”
“Doubtful.”
“Have you figured out what you’re going to do when you get back to that tiny town you live in?”
“Silver Springs isn’t tiny,” she protested. “And to answer your question, I still don’t know what I’m going to do, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. Not tonight.”
She couldn’t stop thinking about it, though. Now that her education was over, it was time to settle into a career. She knew she should take the next step, but there was an intangible force holding her back. She was torn between what she knew she should do and what her heart wanted her to do. The last four years had been ones of internal torment, and yet she had shared her feelings with no one. Not her teachers, not Damon, nor any of her other friends. Ever since she’d entered college, Isabel had stayed focused, working toward a degree in history. She even took the required education courses to become certified as a teacher. She had always loved history, and she truly enjoyed her classes, but history wasn’t her passion. What filled her soul and gave her absolute joy was music.
As a high school student, she’d had such big dreams. Every waking minute seemed to be filled with music in one way or another. When she wasn’t singing, she was playing the piano or the guitar, and when she wasn’t playing, she was writing songs. She performed in public several times—small events with no more than thirty or forty people—and the reaction was always positive, the reviews glowing. Everyone seemed to love her songs. Plans for her future were centered on music, and college was going to give her the training that would set her on the path to a music career. Her senior year at Assumption High had begun with exciting possibilities and hopes, but then everything changed when her mother got sick.
Once the horrible disease grabbed hold of her mother, it wouldn’t let go. Isabel would never forget those painful months going back and forth to the hospital, holding her mother’s hand during chemo, being so scared, and all the while silently praying for a miracle.
God didn’t give her one. During the final days in the hospital, the three sisters kept watch by their mother’s bedside. Kiera and Kate would periodically leave to attend to responsibilities, but Isabel never left. She was holding on to every precious moment with all her might. Her mother was so weak, she could barely speak, but she had so much she wanted to say to her girls, especially Isabel. On one of the occasions they were alone together, her mother reached for Isabel’s hand and made a request that would change Isabel’s future. Telling her how proud she was of her, her mother then asked Isabel to make a promise. She knew her daughter had grand dreams of becoming a songwriter and performer, but she was afraid of the heartache and struggle such a path would bring, and so she asked Isabel to forgo her dreams until she finished college. She insisted it wasn’t because she didn’t have any faith in Isabel—though Isabel doubted she was telling the truth—but her mother wanted security for her daughter, and so she asked her to put aside the music and major in a subject that was more practical,
one that would give her something to support herself if her dream fell through and she didn’t succeed.
Her mother wouldn’t rest until Isabel gave her word.
After her mother died, Isabel felt she had lost her bearings. For a brief time she rationalized that she could still study music. Maybe make it part of her minor degree. But then her mother’s words came back to her, and she knew that was not what was asked of her, nor what she had agreed to. Even though her world seemed so unsettled, there was one thing Isabel was sure of. She had made a vow and she would keep it.
She didn’t tell her sisters about it. They might try to interfere. This was something between Isabel and her mother.
As difficult as it was for her, Isabel stayed true to her promise. The music was still inside her, but once she was in college, she silenced it. The only time she sang her songs was in the shower when she knew no one else was around, and even then she didn’t belt it out the way she wanted. None of her friends knew she could sing or that she wrote music. It was another one of her secrets.
Somewhere along the way her game plan and her confidence vanished. If her own mother didn’t believe in her, why would anyone else? Maybe it was all part of growing up, or maybe it was just time for her to abandon her foolish dreams.
She didn’t have the faintest idea what she was supposed to do now. Her grand plans had been demolished. At least she had her degree in history, and it was a subject she truly enjoyed. She would never regret that. Maybe someday she’d be able to teach it and make others appreciate it as much as she did, even travel to some of the great historic sites she’d read about. It was time for her to make some decisions.