A Song For Julia Part 42

She had her face buried against my shoulder, and I could barely hear her, but I swear at that moment she said words I thought I'd never hear, words that I'd desperately wanted to hear from her.

She whispered, "I love you, Crank."

My breathing changed, growing ragged, and I couldn't let go or pull back or say anything, because I was afraid. Afraid that she hadn't really said it, that she hadn't really meant it, or that she meant, "I love you Crank, like I love my little sister." But she pulled back, and she said, "There couldn't possibly be a worse time in the world for this. But we need to talk."

My heart fell in my chest. This was going to be it. I knew it. She was going to tell me there was no chance for us. We separated, and I turned to my mom, and Julia said, "Hey, Margot. Sean."

My mom walked over, and she started to cry, and pulled Julia into a hug. Sobbing, she said, "Thank you so much. For doing this. For getting us here. For coming."

Julia hugged her back, and said, "There's nothing to thank me for, okay? Jack means a lot to me. You all do."

Then she pulled back from my mom, keeping her hands on Mom's shoulders, and said, "I need to borrow Crank for a little while. We've got ... some things to talk about."

My mother nodded, and Julia said, "We'll be back."

And then she pulled me away from the waiting room.

We slipped into the tiny nondenominational chapel three doors down.

It was dim in here, the only light from up near the altar. An electric piano sat near the front of the room, and a line of small, utilitarian pews were lined up in rows.

She sat down in the first pew. I sat down next to her and turned toward her, and she grabbed my left hand. And that's when I realized there was something different about her. She wasn't wearing any bracelets.

I reached in my pocket, my hand touching the friendship bracelet she'd given me. I held it in my right hand.

Tears immediately started rolling down her face, and she said, "I can't promise ... not to pull back. Not to run away. It's too much a part of me now."

"What?" I said, stupidly.

"Just shut up and listen to me, all right?"

I shut up. And nodded. And listened.

"I've spent most of my life alone, in one way or another. But an old friend reminded me of something yesterday. He said ... you make your own home. I've never had one. For a while, I had a big brother. And he kept me together, when I was just a little girl, all alone. And then ... you know what happened. All I had was my armor. All I had was my sh.e.l.l, holding me together, because I couldn't trust anyone. I couldn't believe in anyone."

She sniffled and then said, "But something has happened to me. Something I never thought would happen. I want to trust you. I ... I want to feel. I want to know what it's like to love and to have a real life. I want to know what it's like to have a home for the first time in my life."

She was really crying now, and I would have wiped her tears, but it would have taken a mop bucket. Instead, I pulled her close to me and let her cry on my shirt.

"Crank ... you're my home now. You're the person I want to come home to. You're ... I love you, Crank." She laughed in the midst of her tears, her eyes shining, blue green. "I can't believe I just said those words. But it's true. I love you. I want to be with you."

It was all I could do to keep from crying myself. I held her tight against me as she shook, and she whispered, "Can you forgive me? For not being able to say it before? For not being able to admit it? I didn't want to hurt you. I never wanted that."

I leaned close to her ear. "There's nothing to forgive. But even if there was, then yes. I'll forgive you today, tomorrow, every day."

She was still crying, but she said, "And you won't write any more stupid songs about me?"

I guess if she could joke, then things were better. "Can't promise that," I replied.

She laughed, shaking against me, and I said, "In fact, that may be all I do for the rest of my life."

She leaned against me and whispered, "Mine."

I leaned close, looking in her beautiful blue eyes, then at her lips, and I moved closer until our lips touched. Sweet, beautiful lips. It was different than before. Not so rushed, not so fraught with tension and distance. I felt like she was looking into my soul, that with the touch of our lips, she could see and feel everything about me. And me, with her.

She pulled back from the kiss. "Can you put up with me? I'm crazy half the time. You know I'll pull away and get angry when things are tough."

"I'll chance it."

"Why?" She looked in my eyes as she asked the question. "Why would you risk that? Why would you risk me hurting you?"

I put my hands on either side of her face. "Because you make me better. You make me-you make me feel like I matter. Like my life matters. I feel like, with you, I can do anything in the world. That we can do anything in the world. And we will."

"We will," she said. "I promise that."

And so, we sat there in that chapel for a long time, holding each other, listening to each other breathe.

And then I got a crazy idea.

"Come here a second," I said. I stood and led her over to the electric piano.

"Sit down," I said. We both sat down at the bench, and I said, "Do you remember when I said I wanted to make music with you?"

Her eyes watered, and she nodded. I took my messy notes out of my front pocket and unfolded them. "I've been working on this for a few weeks, but I couldn't get it right. Help me?"

She smiled a crazy, happy smile, and nodded.

So I put the notes on the music stand. "Your part," I said, pointing.

Then she saw the t.i.tle of the song. A Song for Julia. And she started to silently cry.

I started to play. She listened, nodding, then on the second measure, joined in. She was studying the notes I'd scribbled on the paper and kept up with me. It was perfect, every note in place.

And then I started to sing. It was a duet, and I sang of my longing, of her refusal, and of my precious hope that if I let her go, if I kissed her goodbye and watched her go, that she'd eventually come home.

I could feel her beside me, her eyes wide, shining bright, even as tears rolled down her face. We were in sync, and when she joined in the song, her voice scratchy and tired, we still sang it with perfect, beautiful harmony.

Finally, the song ended. And she said the words again. The words I'd waited for her to say, the words that scared her so much she'd run away from me.

"I love you, Crank."

I whispered back, "I love you, Julia."

She leaned against me, and I put my arms around her, and she closed her eyes.

"I'm so sleepy," she said. "And I can't seem to stop crying."

I just smiled, then reached out and lifted her up and carried her over to the pew.

So we sat and waited. I knew I had Julia in my arms, and that she loved me, and that somehow, with us, everything was going to be okay. I thought of Dad, a few rooms away, fighting for his life. Julia and I would wait it out together. It would be enough.

Julia fell asleep, leaning against me. I shifted positions, cradling her in my arms, and I watched her face, the lines smooth, and her sleep peaceful.

Not long after that, my mother found us. She looked in and saw us there, quiet in the chapel, and put her hands, clasped together, to her chest. There were tears of hope in her eyes.

"The doctors called. Jack's waking up."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

Epilogue (Julia) "You've got everything you need?" Margot asked. "Toothbrushes. Razors?" We were standing at the entrance to the security lineup at Logan Airport.

"Yes, Mom," he said. "We're all set. And if I didn't, Julia would have three backup copies of everything anyway."

I grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Knock it off, Crank."

He looked back at me, eyebrows raised. "You know it's true, babe."

"Call me babe again, and you'll find yourself walking to Las Vegas."

Jack laughed. "I knew there was a reason I loved you." Then he put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eye. Jack looked good. He'd had a tough road recovering from the heart attack. He was lucky to be alive at all, but when he'd collapsed during the run, they'd quickly gotten him medical attention. Now, he looked almost back to normal, though the Boston Police had given him an early retirement. He spent his days puttering around the house, running Sean back and forth to school, and making Margot's life difficult. And I could tell he loved every minute of it. Surviving the heart attack, getting his wife back: he was like a man reborn, always grinning, eyes bright. He and Margot had been talking about taking a tour of Europe that summer during the month Sean would be on tour with us.

I smiled back at him. "You're family, you know that?"

We embraced. "Always. Whatever happens in life, you've always got a home with us, you hear?"

My eyes p.r.i.c.ked with tears. Home was a good word. "Love you, Jack."

"All right. No tears. You start crying, next thing you know, I will. And no one's allowed to see an old man cry, you hear?"

I winked at him. "I may not see it, but I know."

"Smarta.s.s," he grumbled.

We parted, and I clasped hands with Margot. I leaned close and whispered, "Thank you. For everything."

Finally, Sean. He looked a little awkward, as always. His eyes slid off me as he said, "Have a good flight. Make sure you don't use your computer until you get to alt.i.tude. Electronics interfere with the instruments."

I smiled and pulled him into a hug. He was stiff, but after a second he gradually put his arms around me. "I'll miss you," I said. "You've been a good friend."

"I'll miss you," he said, pulling away. His eyes drifted off to the security gate. "I've got the tour schedule. I'll join you at the eighteenth city."

I nodded. "We'll see you in August. And Sean?"

"Yes, Julia?"

"Take care of your mom and dad, okay?"

He nodded, his face expressionless, eyes drifting off to the side. "I will."

Crank hugged his mom and dad. "Don't get in too much trouble with the ladies, Sean."

Sean, as always, took the suggestion literally. He responded, "I most likely won't."

I took a breath, looked at Crank and then my watch. "We've got to go, we're going to miss our flight if we don't hurry."

"All right."

I reached out, and we laced our fingers together, and walked away from our family, getting into the security line.

We had a three-month tour ahead of us, opening for Allen Roark. I'd graduated three weeks before, said my final goodbyes to Adriana and Linden, and a much more tearful one with Jemi, who promised to keep in touch. She was going home to Sierra Leone, but said she'd be back. At the end of the summer, we were planning to stop off in San Francisco, to spend three days with my sisters ... and my parents ... before driving back east with Sean and Carrie. Thirty-six cities in three months. Ironically, that was far more travel than I'd ever done with my parents.

But I was okay with it. My home would be traveling with me.

"You ready for this?" I asked.

He winked at me and gave me that sideways smile that always made my knees want to melt into the ground.

"Yeah," he said. "Let's do it."

THE END.

Thank you.

Thank you for taking the time to read A Song for Julia.

This book is part of a group of planned novels focusing on the Thompson sisters, the first being Just Remember to Breathe. They can be read in any order.

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Playlist.

Down with the Sickness, Disturbed.