Composing Amelia Page 11

  Profound disappointment joined the doubt. This wasn’t anything like he’d expected. The griping congregants, the writer’s block, the fear—the absence of Amelia. He tossed his pen atop the notebook and sat back from the table, arms crossed. If he weren’t spending so much time missing her, worrying about her, being jealous of her friends, his brain wouldn’t be so tangled and cluttered. He’d be able to think straight, to reason and write clearly about the things the church—his church—needed to hear. This was all her fault.

  A knock at the door made him jump. He glanced through the peephole and saw Karis holding a plate wrapped in tinfoil and a little blonde girl leaning against her leg.

  He put on a smile and opened the door. “Karis, hey.”

  She smiled. “Hi, Marcus. Are we interrupting anything?”

  “No, not at all.” He wasn’t sure whether to invite her in or not. He didn’t want to be unfriendly, but he also didn’t want to encourage anything more than an acquaintanceship. Although this would give him a chance to make sure she knew he was married. “Come on in, if you’d like.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Taking the little girl’s hand, she stepped in and handed him the plate. “These are for you. Audry and I made them for you this afternoon. Say ‘hi,’ Audry.”

  The girl smiled but said nothing. Marcus smiled down at her and couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy. “Hi, Audry. Thanks for the cookies; I’ll bet they’re really good.”

  “They’re chocolate chip.”

  “My favorite.” He gave her a grin. “Would you like to share one with me?”

  Audry looked to her mom, who nodded. “Just one. And we can’t stay too long; it’s nearly bedtime.”

  Marcus pulled back the foil and held out the plate. “This was very kind of you, Karis. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. I would have done it earlier, but it’s been a crazy week. I’m trying to get a second job, and I’ve been working on my portfolio.”

  “What kind of portfolio?” He motioned for her to sit on the sofa and took for himself the armchair at its corner.

  “Graphic design. I took night classes a few years back but never pursued anything after finishing the program. But the library job just isn’t cutting it financially, and the graphic design I could do independently on my own time.”

  “So you’re looking to work with a firm somewhere?”

  “Actually, I’m hoping to just find random clients. That way I have the freedom of my own hours and can set my own rates. Oh—Audry, honey, feet off the sofa.”

  Marcus waved a hand. “It’s all right, I don’t mind.” He was struck by how different the apartment felt with more people in it. Even just sitting five feet from another person made it feel less empty and cavernous than it usually did. This is how it’s supposed to be. Me and Amelia and another little person … maybe even two. There should be a family here.

  He caught Karis staring at him and realized he’d gone silent. “Sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s been a weird day. I’m spacing out on you. I apologize.”

  “That’s all right. We’ll get out of your hair.”

  “No, it’s all right,” he said, holding up his hand.

  He saw her finally notice his ring. “Oh,” she said, looking bewildered. “You’re married?”

  “Yes, I am. My wife is back in LA. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it before—it didn’t even cross my mind, and I didn’t realize until later that there was no way you could have known.”

  Her cheeks bloomed with color. “Oh. I see. Is she going to join you soon?”

  “I’m hoping so, yeah.”

  She looked surprised. “You’re not sure?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Ah.”

  Not wanting to leave anything to Karis’s imagination, Marcus told her the basics, after which she told him a little about Audry’s father. Marcus enjoyed the conversation. Other than at dinner with Ed and Lucy almost two weeks ago, he hadn’t interacted on a purely social level with anyone since leaving California. It was nice to just sit and talk with someone.

  When Marcus’s phone rang, it took him by surprise. He glanced at his watch and groaned as he jumped to his feet to answer his cell. “It’s almost eleven thirty.” He was supposed to call Amelia at nine o’clock Pacific. He was half an hour late.

  Karis’s eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me? How did that happen?” She shifted on the couch and a sleeping Audry whined as she awakened.

  He answered the phone with a wince, fearing Amelia would be angry, and turned his back to Karis as he spoke. “Hey, babe. Sorry I didn’t call.”

  “That’s all right. Did you fall asleep?”

  “No, I just got caught up. Are you home?”

  “No, I’m still out with the group.”

  “All right. Can I call you back in a couple minutes?”

  “Oh—yeah, sure.”

  “Okay, great. Seriously, just two minutes.”

  “All right. Bye.”

  He hung up and turned just as Karis was about to close the front door. “I’m sorry,” he said, catching the door, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. He just knew he felt bad that the evening was ending like this when it had turned out to be so enjoyable.

  “That’s okay. I shouldn’t have stayed.”

  “I’m glad you did, though.” The second he said the words he knew they sounded different from what he’d meant. “I mean, I’ve been here two weeks and don’t really know anyone outside of work, and … It was nice to get to just hang out with someone.”

  “It’s all right. Trust me, I know what you mean.” She gave him a smile as she shifted Audry in her arms. “Have a good night.”

  “You, too. Thanks again for the cookies.”

  They said good-bye and he shut the door, feeling frustrated that what had turned into a great conversation had so abruptly ended, and feeling guilty for having such a good time talking with a woman who wasn’t his wife.

  His wife. He needed to call Amelia back.

  He pulled the phone from his pocket and sat on the sofa. He caught the scent of perfume that he’d noticed in Karis’s apartment the morning she’d invited him for coffee. He liked the scent, which for some reason made him feel even more guilty. He stood and moved back to the dining room as he dialed.

  “What’s got you so busy?” Amelia asked when she answered.

  “I was working on my message for the weekend, and then a neighbor stopped in to welcome me.”

  “Aw, that’s nice. Anyone interesting?”

  “A mom and her daughter. They brought chocolate-chip cookies.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “Yeah. They were … friendly. So, where are you?”

  “Mike’s apartment. He’s the guitarist.”

  “A lot of people there?”

  “Yeah, most of the troupe. I had an, um, interesting talk with Ross.”

  “Really? About what?”

  “Well …” Amelia’s hesitance made him nervous. Had she been talking with Ross the way he’d been talking with Karis? The fact that the possibility stirred his jealousy made him uncomfortable. “He knows someone at Atlantic Records, here in LA. A sound engineer. He’s going to talk to him and see if he can get me in as a session player.”

  Marcus frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Someone that plays on recordings. Like, if you have a band with a guitarist and a drummer and a bassist, but you have songs that are arranged with violin and piano as well, then they hire session players to play those instruments.”

  “Oh—so a musician for hire.”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow. That would be cool.”

  “That would be huge. Not because session work is so fantastic, but because there’s a chance you’ll get asked to tour with them later—if they tour, that is.”

  No, no touring! “Oh. That’s … wow.”

  “I know, right?”

  Amelia’s voice didn’t reach the level of exube
rance he expected from her about such news. “You don’t sound that excited.”

  “Well … It’s all, you know, hypothetical at this point.”

  “Ah.”

  They both went silent. Marcus realized that, for the first time since leaving home, he really didn’t want to talk. “I have to be up early for church,” he said. “I really need to go.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “And I don’t want to keep you from the party. Have fun with everyone.”

  “Thanks. Have a good night.”

  “You, too.”

  “I miss you.”

  His heart hurt. “I miss you, too.”

  They traded I-love-yous and good-byes and then Marcus hung up, feeling lousy for so many reasons he couldn’t even sort them all out. He dropped the phone to the table and hauled himself off to bed.

  Valentine’s Day spent apart from Marcus was worse than all the dateless Valentine’s Days she’d endured though high school and college. And what really compounded things was seeing Jill and Dane so lovey-dovey with each other. Even though Dane’s excitement about the baby was still tempered, he had turned into the doting husband who fretted and worried about his pregnant wife, and Amelia watched him pamper her with more than a little jealousy. Jill certainly deserved it; the pregnancy had been hard on her, and Amelia had been doing her fair share of doting and pampering too. But seeing how the pregnancy had drawn them closer made Amelia’s longing for Marcus even more painful, and today the pain was a thousand times worse.

  It was Sunday night, and she was cleaning the kitchen for Dane so he and Jill could spend the evening in front of a romantic comedy. She’d called Marcus earlier than usual because she just couldn’t wait any longer, but once they were on the phone she kept falling into the trap that seemed to suck her in every time they talked these days: Somehow, she’d lost her ability to be completely honest with him. She couldn’t bring herself to admit that she was more miserable every day, that she hated her deli job so much she’d almost quit twice, that as much as she loved Jill and Dane she couldn’t stand living with them because seeing them together just made her miss Marcus more. Admitting she wasn’t brimming over with happiness felt like admitting defeat. How could she complain when she’d fought so hard to stay? She was living her dream—she was supposed to be excited about it, even if it meant sacrifice. But she wasn’t. Suck it up, she’d tell herself. It could be worse. She could be in Nebraska and living within arm’s reach of the toilet with perpetual morning sickness like Jill. Just don’t let on—don’t give Marcus any ammo.

  So she lied. “Yeah, the deli job is great. Maria is gone, but the new girl is nice. We get along really well.” When I’m not cleaning up after her mistakes.

  “Rehearsals are going great! I really enjoy the music, and the actors are doing a great job. I can’t wait for opening night.” As long as I don’t let myself remember you won’t be there to see it.

  “The apartment is great. Jill and Dane are fun to live with; we’re having a great time.” When Jill’s not too sick to carry on a conversation and I don’t catch them being all snuggly and cute.

  Great became her go-to word. The weather? Great. The community center job? Great. Everything was great. It had to be. If it wasn’t, it might mean she didn’t really want to be there. And that meant she had no reason not to go to Nebraska.

  Marcus walked his usual circuit through the apartment as he listened to Amelia gush about how great things were in LA. Dining room to kitchen, through to the living room, around the couch, past the front door, and all over again. Each room had its own distinct, Amelia-shaped emptiness that tugged at his chest whenever he passed through it. The dining room was doubly painful, not only because Amelia was not there, but because no number of commentaries spread on the table seemed to make the work he did there any easier.

  To hear her talk about it, LA was heaven on earth. Everything was fantastic. He was happy for her—he didn’t want her miserable, obviously—but it would have been nice to hear that, while things were going well, they’d be better if he was there. But when it was his turn to report on life in Nebraska, he ended up doing the same thing. He didn’t want to sound needy, as if all he did was sit around pining after her—not if she wasn’t pining on her end. He was already struggling with worry that their marriage didn’t mean as much to her as it did to him, given how easily she’d thrown around the idea of divorce. He didn’t want to scare her away. So the job was “challenging, but in a good way” and it was “great to be able to finally do what I love.” The apartment was “spacious and bright—makes the studio look like a cave.” The weather was “a welcome change from the predictability of Southern California—can you even say they have real weather there?”

  Hearing the updates on Jill and Dane compounded his misery, especially the way Amelia described them. It was clear from her report that living with a pregnant woman had done nothing to jump-start her own maternal longings. Quite the opposite, in fact. “You should see how sick she is. And it’s all the time. I’d rather be celibate the rest of my life than go through that for nine months! And, oh my gosh—the stuff. The insane amount of stuff you apparently have to have to take care of a baby. The hall closet is completely packed with all this random gear. She hasn’t even had her shower yet and they’ve already run out of room to store it all.” He could practically hear her shuddering in disgust.

  As he listened to her rant, Marcus’s eyes caught sight of the flyer he’d left on the dining room table as he passed it on his route around the apartment. Part of him wanted to mention it to her, but the practical side of him knew that Amelia might think he was trying to manipulate her, and the harder he pushed her about coming to Wheatridge the less likely it was that she ever would. He picked up the flyer and just stared at it as he continued his meandering pace. He’d pulled it from the plastic box mounted to the “For Sale” sign he’d seen while taking a new route home from work. The house was small, but sat on a quarter acre and was within walking distance to downtown. The pictures on the flyer showed hardwood floors that gleamed in the sun and quaint rooms with big windows and fancy crown molding. Details like wainscoting on the lower half of the dining room walls, a fully finished basement, and an updated kitchen with stainless steel appliances gave the house both charm and bonus points for livability. But what he knew would really reel Amelia in was the petite grand piano that sat in the front window and came with the house.

  If only he could tell her about it.

  When they’d hung up, Marcus stuck the flyer to the refrigerator door. Despite the unlikelihood that it would still be on the market when they were looking to buy, he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. It gave him warm thoughts of his and Amelia’s future—of fires in the fireplace while a winter storm raged, of evenings spent reading in the living room while Amelia practiced for her next gig. And even though Amelia’s thoughts on the matter were clear, he couldn’t help picturing a redheaded girl sliding down the hall in her socks into her daddy’s arms.

  She’s going to change her mind eventually, right, God? You’ll bring her out by the summer, surely. Until then he’d ask Ed for a recommendation for a Realtor. It wouldn’t hurt to start getting all their ducks in a row. Maybe God would save that house for them if Marcus showed Him just how hard he was willing to work for it.

  Amelia came home from her deli job feeling oddly anxious. It was an emotion she’d been struggling with all day, and while she figured it would get better after she left work, she could barely concentrate with the flurry of jittery activity in her stomach.

  It had to be opening night that was causing all the commotion. She pulled off her jacket and headed straight for her keyboard. The music for Pippin was spread across the music stand, and she launched into “Corner of the Sky” without warming up, hoping the playing would calm her down. It was her favorite song in the show—she could relate to Pippin’s longing for purpose and fulfillment, and Jeff’s voice soared when he sang it, making it even more enjoyab
le to play in rehearsals. But tonight would be the last night they rehearsed. Tomorrow was opening night.

  When she reached the end of the song, Jill’s voice startled her from her thoughts of the performance. “Sorry I scared you,” she said when Amelia spun in surprise. “That sounded great, by the way.”

  “Thanks. I didn’t wake you up or anything, did I?”

  Jill smiled and rubbed a hand over her belly, which was just beginning to swell. “No, no worries. I love listening to you play.”

  “You should get your violin out one of these days; we could duet.”

  Jill let out a snort. “Yeah right. Do you know how long it’s been since I played?”

  “Too long.”

  “Hm. Maybe.”

  Jill had been one of Juilliard’s finest when they’d attended together. They’d played together all the time—Jill had been the only person Amelia could stand to play with. But she’d broken under the pressure at the school, and after graduating she’d put away her instrument “for good.” Amelia hoped she’d be able to coax her to take it out again someday.

  She thought of her mother. Just like Jill, she had given up on her talents. Amelia didn’t want that for herself. She found so much peace in her music, so much fulfillment. She prayed in that moment that her passion would never fade the way theirs had.

  Amelia returned her gaze to Jill. “So what’s up then?”

  Jill shifted against the doorjamb. “Tomorrow they’re launching the new Saturday service at church. I wanted to see if you’d go with us.”

  “I can’t—opening night, remember?”

  Jill smacked her forehead. “I knew there was something going on. I told Dane I had a feeling you’d be busy. I can’t believe I forgot that, I’m sorry.”

  Amelia chuckled. “Hey, when you spend most of every day puking in the bathroom, you get a free pass on remembering what day it is.”

  Jill gave a wan smile. “Thanks.”