41 comments/ 74365 views/ 25 favorites Unfinished Melody By: GB_Marvel "Haven't you ever done anything on the spur of the moment, Mom?" Rachel gave her mother an exasperated look. Jill looked over the top of her reading glasses at her daughter. "I'm sorry. I like to know where I'm going, who I'm going with, little things like that. And I certainly don't want to go somewhere by myself." "Live a little, Mom, take some chances in life. Don't you get tired of being Mrs. Safe and Sound?" Rachel was attempting to get her mother go to Jazz in the Park by herself. The original plan had been for the both of them to attend, but Rachel's boss had called, and she was desperately needed at the store. The barb made Jill wince a little. Mrs. Safe and Sound. Her seemingly perfect life had come to a crashing halt years ago when her husband had come home from work one day and announced that he wanted to live, but not with her or Rachel, and wanted a divorce. She wasn't Mrs. Safe and Sound now. She wasn't even a Mrs., not anymore. Jill studied her daughter in silence. She was the one good thing left in her life. Rachel had inherited her auburn hair. She looked at her grey eyes and a smile crossed her face. There had been a time, a long time ago, when she had done something on the spur of the moment. Almost twenty-one years ago, that memory always stayed fresh in her mind. --- She told her parents she was spending the weekend with her roommate from college, Anne. When she called Anne on the phone that morning, she told Anne that she just needed a little time to herself. "All the preparations have been made. The flowers have been picked out. The dresses are all ready. I just need to make sure I'm ready." Jill tried to explain her restlessness to Anne. "Jill, if you're not ready, you shouldn't go through with it. You can cancel the whole thing." The concern in Anne's voice was evident, even over the scratchy phone connection. "No, I really can't do that." "Do you love him?" Anne asked. "Yes," Jill replied, "and I have since he sat down beside me on that band trip back when we were just sophomores. I'm just not sure if I'm in love with him. There's a big difference, you know." "I know. You do what you have to do." There was a brief silence over the line and then Anne asked, "Well, what do I tell Mark if he calls and wants to speak to you?" "He won't. He's off fishing with his friends this weekend. I don't expect him to get back into town until Monday night at the earliest. So, I'm on my own for the next three days." So, where are you going this weekend?" I'm not sure. I think I'm just going to drive until a place looks good to me." "Jill, if something's wrong, you'd tell me, right?" Anne asked, the concern evident in her voice even over the phone lines. "Everything's fine. I just need time to clear my head." The two friends ended the conversation. Jill hung up the phone, grabbed the overnight bag she'd packed with some clothes and walked out the door of her apartment into the afternoon sunshine. With the bag tossed in the back seat, Jill started her car and pulled out onto the highway heading south. Jill tuned the radio to an oldies station and sang along with the songs. Songs she'd first listened to with Mark. Songs that had been playing during their first kiss, the first time they went parking, even the first time they'd made love on that ratty old blanket, spread out down by the creek. It had been a hot summer afternoon and they'd been skinny-dipping. She'd been in love then. Was she still in love? That was one of the things she hoped to sort out this weekend. Hours later, she pulled up in front of a block of bars, all featuring live music. She parked her car in the lot across the street and walked up to the door of the first one. The diamond from her engagement ring caught the neon lights from the beer signs. She'd worn it proudly for over a year now, happy to be known as Mark's fiancée and then the bride-to-be, but now she wanted one last time to be just Jill, a girl listening to some music, maybe having a drink or two, spending the evening by herself. She tugged the ring off her finger, dropped it into her purse and zipped the side pocket firmly closed. Jill took a deep breath and opened the door to the bar. She paused, waiting just inside the door out of the flow of traffic until her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Jill looked around for a table and found a small one, way in the back. There was only one chair, the other one obviously borrowed by the large crowd taking up a couple of tables. Jill didn't care. She wasn't planning on having anyone join her. She sat down and pulled the chair around until she was facing the stage. Her view of the stage wasn't very good. She couldn't see much, just the far left corner and the guitar player, or more accurately, his hands. No wonder this table was empty. No matter. Jill really wasn't there for the music anyway. The band was pretty good, though. Not rock and roll as she'd expected, but blues and jazz and soul, all blended together. Melancholy music but with a vibrancy, a brightness around the edges of the melodies. Great music for just thinking, for just feeling. She took a sip from her drink when the cocktail waitress brought it over, closed her eyes and thought about the first time she'd talked to Mark. They'd been riding a school bus, coming back from a band contest, so long ago. --- She'd found a seat all to herself, as usual. She was the new kid and so shy. Most of her classmates mistook that for snobbery and didn't have much to do with her. The kids in band were friendlier, but tonight most of them had paired off already, leaving her with a seat all to herself. "Would you mind if I sat here?" She looked up and a boy, Mark, she thought that's what his name was, dropped into the seat beside her. "Yes. I mean, no. You can sit there." Flustered, Jill didn't know how to respond. No one, especially a cute boy like Mark, ever asked to sit by her. "Great," he said. "It was getting a little intense back there." "Intense?" Jill asked, wondering what could be intense about a bus ride down the highway. "Yeah, it's make-out city. So I moved up here." "Oh." Jill didn't know what to say. She scooted over towards the window, but the springs in the bus seat were shot and soon she was right back beside him. Their fingers brushed against each other as the driver took a curve in the road. "Sorry," she stammered and tried to pull her hand away. "No, don't be sorry," Mark replied, his hand still over hers. "I like holding hands with a pretty girl." Jill looked up at him and smiled. She could feel her cheeks turning pink. Her blush was probably neon even in the dark. "And even prettier when you smile." Mark continued, moving his fingers until they were entwined with hers. "That's better." Jill wished she knew something, anything to say, but no words came to her. They rode that way for a while, quiet, holding hands. "Are you doing anything this Saturday?" he asked. "Would you like to go to the dance?" --- "...dance?" A voice interrupted her thoughts. "I'm sorry. What did you say?" Jill pulled her attention from that moment in her past and back to the present. "I asked if you wanted to dance," the guy standing next to her table repeated "Oh, no, thank you. I'm really not interested in dancing. I just want to sit here by myself and think this evening. Sorry." The guy murmured something and walked away. Jill returned to her thoughts, sipping her drink and listening to the band. --- "What kinda music do you boys play?" The old man had walked up to the stage as the band was setting up for their next set. "I shore hope you don't play none of that hippie shit music." George chuckled as he opened his cases and set the guitars up on their respective stands. Bo, the bass player, and leader of the group's voice boomed with laughter. "Not us, Pops. We only play loud music." The old man rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Well, I guess I'll have to turn my hearing aid down if you're loud." He thought for a minute. "And the name's not Pops. Most people 'round here call me Billy." The first set was going well. George felt it was going to be a good night. It felt like the band was in a groove. Bo was already in rare form. He wasn't much of a bass player, but he was an entertainer and he knew how to work a crowd. As George played, he watched a girl walk in alone and sit down at the table in the corner. She was different than the rest of the crowd in the bar. Everyone else seemed to be in a party mood, but she seemed quiet and contemplative. Her attention seemed to be a million miles away. His solo was coming up. Bo moved beside him and yelled in his ear, "Make her sing, George. Rip it up." George hit the overdrive pedal on the floor and closed his eyes; he was lost in the music. The Les Paul howled and screamed at his touch. He could feel it. It was going to be a great night. --- "Now, promise me that you will go." Rachel looked at her mother. "I don't know, Rachel. I don't feel comfortable going by myself." "But, you've already paid for the tickets, and you've been looking forward to this for weeks now." Jill smiled at her daughter and watched her get ready for work. She reminded Jill of how she was at the same age. A soft sigh escaped as she thought how her daughter had her whole life ahead of her, and that her own life seemed to be in a bit of a shambles at the moment. "I know. I'll think about it." Rachel rolled her eyes at her mother. "I know what that means. It means you will sit here and think up excuses not to go. I'll make you a deal. I'll talk to Phil when I get to work, and ask him to put me down for first to go if it gets slow. I'll take my clothes with me, change there and meet you in the park. At the very worst, I'll be down there about dark." Jill sighed and acquiesced. "Okay, I'll go." "Good!" Rachel leaned over and kissed her mother on the cheek. "You'll enjoy yourself, and I will see you down there later." After Rachel left, Jill had second thoughts about going. She looked at the ticket sitting on the table. One ticket. One ticket for one person. She was a single woman, but not by choice. When Mark had told her he wanted a divorce, she wasn't surprised. The only surprise was that it had lasted as long as it had. She found herself often wondering if she had ever really been in love with Mark. She had loved him, but then she had loved Spanky, the mischievous Cocker Spaniel that Rachel had received for her fifth birthday. Jill had shed more tears when Spanky had passed away than she had for her failed marriage. Jill looked at the ticket again. "I'm going to go." She walked to her bedroom and looked in the closet. "What to wear?" --- "There's a table of girls. Want to come and see if we can get lucky tonight?" Bo set his bass in its stand and looked over at George. George shook his head. "No, I snapped an E string on the Les Paul; I'm going to restring it." The first two sets had been fabulous. The crowd was into their music, and the whole band seemed to be in a groove tonight. It was nights like this that made all the traveling and truck stop meals worthwhile. He sat down on the stool behind the PA stack and began to unstring the Les Paul with a speed winder. George reached into his bag, retrieved a new set of Dean Markley bronze strings, and set about restringing the guitar. George paused briefly to look at the girl sitting alone at the table. He had seen several guys ask her to dance, only to be rebuffed. He wondered who she was, and if she was waiting for anyone. For the briefest of moments, he felt their eyes meet. He managed to flash a quick smile. "Okay, gorgeous, let's get you in tune," George whispered to his guitar as he plugged the tuner in. Jill had felt her pulse skip a beat when her eyes made contact with the guitar player. She was glad it was dark in the bar; he wouldn't be able to see the blush in her cheeks. She watched his hands as he put the new strings on the guitar. His motions and movements seemed to be so precise. The way he held the guitar was almost sensuous. After the guitar was tuned, George began to play. His amp was turned way down, and the sound guy had a tape running through the mains. What he was playing was only coming through the Marshall. Jill could hear him. It wasn't a piece of music she recognized. It had a forlorn, haunting quality. She could feel sadness in the notes. She wished she had the nerve to get up and ask him what the song was. "Still noodlin' around with that?" Bo had come back to the stage. George turned and nodded. "Yeah, I dunno where it's going to go." "If you can ever get some lyrics for it, let me know. We might be able to work it into the set list." 'It was strange, really', Jill thought. Of all the music she'd heard tonight, it was that little melody the guitar player was working on during the breaks that spoke the most to her. She guessed it was unfinished. It didn't seem to have any lyrics or even an ending and she never heard any other band members playing along. He was all alone up there, just like she was. --- "When we get married, you'll never be alone again, Jill. I'll be there for you. Always." Mark's earnest voice promised, almost like the wedding vows they'd be saying in a year's time. Jill smiled. Not being alone. She wondered if that could really be true. She loved Mark and spent all her free time with him, but sometimes she still felt so alone, even in his bed after they'd made love. When they were married, truly together, all that would change. She would belong. She would have somebody to love her. Somebody to love. --- "...Somebody to Love. You know. That old Jefferson Airplane song. Grace Slick." The man standing beside her table leaned in to talk to her over the music. "Kinda jazzy for my taste, but it's not too bad. We could probably still dance to it, if you'd like." Jill jumped a bit at the voice close to her ear. She'd been miles away. Years away from where she was this evening. "Um. No thanks. I'm waiting for someone," Jill said, turning her attention back to the stage. The man's gaze took in the single chair she was sitting in and shrugged. He'd been turned down before. Plenty of other girls in the bar tonight. Maybe he'd have better luck at the table full of babes down by the stage. It really wasn't a lie. She was waiting for someone or something. She just didn't know who or what. Someone to tell her she was doing the right thing. A sign that she should leave and go back home or stay and maybe hear the rest of his song. She would be getting married to Mark. Everything was all set. That little bit of doubt was just cold feet, wasn't it? Sure it was. She just needed a chance to think things through and be sure. Then everything would be fine. She'd... No. They'd have a great life together. Happily ever after. Wasn't that the way she'd always heard it should be? -- Jill surprised herself when she backed the car out of the driveway and onto the street. The whole time she was getting ready, she was convinced that she would find some excuse to change her mind and stay home. Several times, she had looked at the phone and thought about calling her daughter. A sudden headache, an upset stomach, she even thought about saying the car wouldn't start. Even more unexpected was the rising feeling of excitement. The closer she got to the park, the more she was looking forward to spending the afternoon there, listening to live music. The parking lot was already crowded. Jill looked at the sea of cars and began searching for a spot. A smile grew on her face when she saw a car pulling out. "Must be my lucky day," she said to herself as she pulled in and parked her car. The sun felt good, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees in the park. She set her lawn chair up under a large maple. She wished she could've found a spot closer to the stage. She enjoyed watching the musicians as much as she liked listening to the music. --- The lights of the bar were bright now. She'd sat there all night, sipping on a few drinks, no closer to a decision than when she'd entered the place. Jill smiled. She had had a good time, though. The band was much better than she'd anticipated. And there was just something about that guitar player. 'Ah, well,' Jill thought. 'I'd better head out and find a place to stay for the night.' Jill stepped out into the cool night air. That afternoon's sunshine had changed into a fine mist of rain and fog. The streets were deserted. Her car one of the few left in the lot. Jill's footsteps echoed as she crossed the road and went to her car. She slid behind the wheel and turned the key. Nothing. Complete silence. Not even a bit of that grinding noise. Just the quiet sounds of the city late at night. Jill looked up and down the street. No traffic, no handy tow truck, or even a cab. She'd have settled for a police cruiser. Across the street, the last neon lights of the bar winked out. Maybe she could use the phone there. She grabbed her purse and locked the car, anxious to reach the bar before they locked the doors for the night. She ducked her head against the wind and ran across the street. Jill turned the corner and bumped into something. She looked up and saw the smiling face and the grey eyes of the guitar player from the band she'd enjoyed watching all night. He took her arm to steady her, releasing her when she regained her footing. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going. I was trying to get back here before everyone left." Jill looked over and saw the darkened bar, security screens firmly latched into place. "Oh. I guess I'm too late." "Did you need something? Maybe I could help." "I wanted to use the phone in the bar. My car won't start. I was hoping to get a jump or a tow or something." "This late at night, I doubt anything's still open. Let me go look. Maybe it's something obvious." "Thank you. If it's not too much trouble..." Jill's voice trailed off as she walked with the guitarist back to her car. "No trouble. I can't leave Cinderella stranded after the ball," George answered. "I still have both glass slippers. It's my pumpkin I'm worried about," Jill joked. They reached the car and George did what to Jill's eyes could have been all sorts of magical incantations and gesturing under the hood to no avail. The car was really and truly DOA. "Must be the battery. It probably just needs a jump in the morning." George answered, dropping the hood of the car into place. "Well, thank you for trying anyway. I guess I'll just sleep in the car tonight and catch someone when that coffee shop across the street opens up." "No. I can't let you do that. Why don't we walk over to my hotel - it's just around the block. I'll grab the van and drive you to where you were planning on staying the night." "That's okay. I really hadn't even thought of where I was going to sleep tonight. I just stopped in for a drink and ended up staying." Jill protested. "Yep, we're not very good, but we're loud," George said with a grin. "I thought you were very good." "Listen. Go ahead and take what you need for the night. I'm sure my hotel has a vacancy." "That sounds good. I really wasn't looking forward to driving anymore tonight." Jill grabbed her small bag from the back seat and secured her car for the night. The walk through the misting rain seemed to take no time at all. Jill and George walked mostly in silence, an occasional comment about the storefronts their only conversation. When they got to the hotel, the lobby was deserted. The sign on the desk instructed them to ring the bell and wait. They did both, but no one came. Jill began to shiver in her wet clothes. Unfinished Melody "This is ridiculous. Come upstairs with me. You can share my room for the night. No strings. No pressure. Just a bed for the night and a hot shower. You look cold and worn out." Jill looked at George, studying his face for a long time, before she nodded in agreement. "I think I'd like that." The two of them walked up the stairs to the second floor and down the hallway. George stopped in front of the door, unlocked it and stepped inside, flipping on the lamp. --- Jill was lost in the music. She had forgotten why she had initially resisted coming by herself. She was watching the percussionists from a band playing music with a Latin flavor. She closed her eyes and let the rhythm sweep her away. The sounds of the timbales and the congas added some zest to the guitar and keyboards. The jangle of her cell phone surprised her as the band finished the number they were playing. "Hello?" "Hi, Mom. I called the house and got no answer. Did you go?" "Yes, dear, I'm here now." "Good. Now, aren't you glad you went?" "I really am." Jill responded. "The next band is about to start. Call me when you are on your way." "Okay, I will." Rachel hung the phone up. She felt better knowing her mother wasn't sitting at home brooding. --- Jill followed George into his room, wiping the water from her face as she entered. "It was wetter out there than I thought." Jill wrung the raindrops from her hair. "Oh. Here. Let me get you a towel." George handed her a small one from the stack in the bathroom. "Thanks. I probably look like a drowned rat." Jill rubbed her damp hair with the towel and wiped her face. "That feels better." George took the towel from Jill and stepped a little closer. "You missed a spot," he said and gently blotted her face. Jill closed her eyes and leaned in slightly, it was barely noticeable, but George noticed. He noticed and decided that he wanted to, no he needed to kiss her, just once, as he'd been longing to do for the whole night. He took her chin with his hand and whispered, "Open your eyes. I want you to know who is kissing you." Jill's eyes flew open. Her lips met his in a soft, gentle kiss as warm and as caring as the melody he played during the band's break. "Oh, my. I'm... Um...," Jill stammered, not knowing what to say. She'd just kissed a guy. A guy she'd just met that night in the bar and she didn't even know his name. 'This is such a bad idea,' she thought, 'but that kiss, his kiss, felt so good. So right. So real.' Jill stepped away from him and combed her fingers through her hair, more to give herself a minute to think than an attempt at grooming. 'It was just a kiss,' she thought, 'a little kiss.' So why was it the only thing she could think of? That kiss and everything it made her feel. She risked raising her eyes to get a glimpse of him. He was putting away the guitar he'd carried from the bar and not paying any attention, at least not that she could tell, to her. She wondered about her attraction to him. Why did she feel she knew him, that he knew her and they were meant to be there that night together? --- She heard the melody in that place between consciousness and dreams, and a smile formed on her face. Jill hadn't heard it in over twenty years. Sometimes late at night, in her sleep, she would hear it. He played it for her over and over again as she slept. She would wake up, feel an ache in her heart and wonder where George was. Scarcely a day went by when she didn't think of him at least once. Her eyes fluttered for a moment. She realized that the song wasn't coming from her dreams; it was coming from a portable boom box a few feet from where she sat. "I think my mom will like this CD. I got it for her. They play music from the olden days, when she was in college." Jill heard the young boy talking to the girl beside him. "I liked that song. It was kind of sad in a way," the girl replied. "And I think your mom will love it. "Excuse me," Jill spoke to the boy. "Where did you get that CD?" He motioned back towards the concession area. "There was a guy selling CD's from all the bands here." "Could I see the case for the CD you have playing for a moment?" "Sure." The boy handed the case to Jill. She was disappointed that there was no picture of the band on either the front or back of the cover. Just a picture of a rainy street, reflections of neon shimmering in the rippling puddles. The name of the band gave no hints either. 'ODB' The title of the CD was Unforgotten Heartbreaks. "ODB, whatever could that mean?" Jill said to herself. "On Desperation Boulevard," the girl answered. "They're up a bit later." Jill scanned the titles of the songs, and then she saw it. --- George felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He couldn't explain why he had kissed her. A bit of guilt had worked its way to the surface. He didn't want her to think that he was just after a romp in the sack. Jill turned towards the bed when she heard the first soft chords from the acoustic guitar. He wasn't looking at her, concentrating on the music as she watched him play. Jill guessed he sensed she was watching him because he did look up then, his grey eyes meeting her hazel ones. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." "No," Jill protested softly. "Oh, no. It's okay. I...I...well, I liked it." George continued playing his guitar. He smiled at Jill. "So did I." "What's that song called?" Jill asked, "The one you're playing right now?" George shook his head. "It doesn't have a name — yet. The guys in the band call it gum." "Gum?" Jill puzzled. "Like Bazooka?" He chuckled. "No. George's Unfinished Melody. G. U. M" "George," Jill said, feeling the taste of his name in her mouth. "That's your name? I feel bad now. I just realized I kissed you and I didn't even know your name. I'm Jill, by the way." "Hi, Jill. Glad to meet you." "Hi, George. Glad to meet you, too." The sounds of George's quiet playing filled the silence of the small hotel room. Jill sat on the other bed and listened as his fingers moved across the strings, just as she'd watched from her table at the bar. "It's nice. I like it," she said when he had finished. "Actually I like it better than any of the other songs the band played tonight. It seemed more personal, more meaningful than those other ones. Oh. Not that the other songs weren't good, too. They were all good. They were—maybe I should just stop babbling now and go take that shower, if you wouldn't mind. All the smoke from the bar." "No. I wouldn't mind. Go right ahead. Take your time. I'll take the next one." George strummed his guitar. She could hear the music as she gathered up her things and headed into the bathroom. He smiled as the door closed. It made him feel good that she had liked the song, his song. George had been tinkering with the melody for over two years. It was something that seemed to be a part of him. To him, the song seemed to be the voices of two people in harmony, sharing an unrequited love. He had struggled to find words to match the melody. Jill took off her sandals, tugged down her jeans and panties and pulled her violet shirt over her head. She adjusted the shower and stepped under the warm spray. She hoped the shampoo's flowery scent would wash the smell of the smoky bar from her hair. Now, if it could just wash the thought of him from her mind, the taste of him from her mouth. George could feel subtle changes in how he played the melody as he thought about the girl in his shower. The guitar seemed to sound more plaintive, almost as if it were calling out to her. "This is ridiculous", she said to herself. "Stop thinking about him. Finish your shower and get some sleep. Call the auto service first thing in the morning and go back home. Back to where you belong. Back to Mark." The feeling of her lips was still fresh in his mind. He sighed softly as his hands moved over the strings; he wondered what she would feel like. 'Or,' a little voice whispered in her head, 'you could go out there and see where this attraction leads.' Jill was curious where another kiss, and then another might lead. Where those hands, those musician's hands, that stroked those guitars so expertly, would stroke her body, and play melodies on her body. What would those fingers feel like?' She closed her eyes and Jill's own soapy fingers became his as she rubbed the creamy lather over herself. Jill rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. She was no closer to a decision now than she had been when she went into the bathroom, but at least she was clean. She dried the water droplets from her skin and wrapped the towel around her wet hair. Jill rummaged around in her bag until she found a small bottle of her favorite lilac scented lotion. She smoothed the rich, creamy liquid over her skin, enjoying the sweet fragrance. She unwrapped the towel from her head. Her nightgown was right on top in her bag. The small buttons running down the front were functional, but Jill didn't bother, pulling the pink cotton knit over her head. She adjusted the thin straps over her shoulders and began to run a comb through the damp tangles. She quickly plaited her hair into a loose braid hanging down her back. 'I've been in here forever,' she thought, and quickly gathered up her clothes, tossing everything back into her bag. 'I'm sure he's exhausted and ready for his shower, too.' Jill opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom. George looked up as the door opened. A warm smile greeted Jill. His fingers stilled on the strings. Jill's body was perfectly silhouetted through her nightgown in the light from the bathroom. "How was the shower?" George stood up and put his guitar back on its stand. "I feel so much better. Thank you." George opened his suitcase and retrieved a loose pair of boxers that would double as sleepwear tonight. "My turn to get clean," he said and closed the door to the bathroom. George's things were spread out on one bed. Curious about his things, his guitars and about the guitar man himself, Jill walked over to it. She ran her fingers along the smooth polished wood of the acoustic guitar, almost, but not quite touching it. Jill's fingers hovered just above the strings. She wondered what would those fingers that played this instrument so beautifully do if they touched her, played her? Jill turned out the overhead light, leaving only the dim light from the bedside table's lamp to illuminate the room. She pulled back the covers of her bed and stretched out on the cool sheets. As long as the day had been, she really wasn't ready for sleep yet. She got up and walked over to the window overlooking the quiet street below. A gentle breeze ruffled the curtains, bringing the smell of wet asphalt and an occasional swish, swish from cars passing along the street below. "You don't mind the open window, do you?" George's voice startled her. She had been thinking about the wedding, and Mark, and George. She'd call a garage tomorrow, get her car serviced and be back on the road by lunchtime. She'd say good-bye to George and never see him again. And in a week she'd be married. That was the best thing. Right? She wondered if that was really true. Jill turned and smiled at George coming out of the bathroom in heart-spangled boxers and a t-shirt. "No. I was just thinking about a...." Jill's voice trailed off. "A...?" George asked. "Oh, it's nothing. It'll keep for another day. It's late. I really should get a few hours sleep before I get back on the road tomorrow." "Sure." George moved his guitars from his bed and climbed in. "Good night, Jill." "Good night, George," Jill answered, switching off the lamp. The room was cast into shadows, lit by the moonlight streaming in through the open window. Only the rustling of the sheets and the quiet breathing coming from the two people pretending to be asleep disturbed the stillness of the room. Each one thinking about the other, the kiss they had shared. "George," Jill whispered into the darkness. "Yes, Jill?" "Would you kiss me again?" she asked, her voice barely audible. There was a long silence. Jill wondered if she should have just kept her mouth shut. Obviously, he didn't want to kiss her again. He hadn't felt the attraction, the connection she thought they'd had. "I don't think that would be a good idea." "Oh. Okay. I shouldn't have asked you. Sorry." Jill's voice was very quiet, hurt evident in her hushed tones. "Because," George continued, "I don't think I'd be able to stop at one more kiss, at just kissing you." Another long silence, finally broken by Jill's quiet response. "I wouldn't ask you to stop. I wouldn't want you to stop, George." Time seemed to stand still in the small room, in the space between the two beds and then George asked, "Are you sure, Jill? Sure this is what you want." "Yes, George. I'm very sure." At least about tonight, Jill thought. She reached over and flipped the switch to turn on the lamp. "You don't have to... I mean, you could leave the light off if you'd be more comfortable." George stammered as he crossed the few feet separating the two beds to join Jill in hers. "No, George. Like you said earlier. I want to know who's kissing me." Jill held her arms open, welcoming his kisses, and George himself, into her bed. George sat down on the edge of Jill's bed. He reached down with trembling fingers and touched her cheek, smoothing a strand of hair away from her face. "Are you sure, Jill?" George asked quietly, continuing to trace the contours of her face glowing in the soft lamplight. Jill looked up into his silver blue eyes and answered. "Yes, George. I'm sure. I may not be sure of anything else in my life right now, but I'm very sure about this. About you. About me. About the kiss." "I watched your hands, you know," Jill said softly, "while you played. I couldn't see the band, or even your face, but I could see your hands. I saw them and I wondered what they would feel like touching me, caressing me, playing my body like you played your guitar." George's hand stilled on her face at Jill's words. She turned her head and kissed his fingers, calluses rough against her lips. He slid his hand down her cheek, her neck, across her shoulder and down her arm, never losing contact with her. "Stand up, darlin'. I'll show you what I was feeling up there while I was on stage." George pulled her from the bed and, still holding her hand, walked with her to the center of the small room. He turns her away from him, her back in the thin cotton gown pressed tight to his body. George molded Jill's body into his instrument, one hand raised, elbow bent tight against her waist, the other down at her side. He held her upraised hand and then slid his fingers down to her wrist, whispering the names of the chords. "E-minor, C, G, F, D, E-minor, C, G, F, then the chorus, A, C, E-minor, D." George lightly stroked Jill's belly with his other hand, strumming her just as he had his guitar earlier that night. George played the melody on Jill's body, humming, murmuring the notes as he went. His lips soft and gentle on her neck. His hands skimmed lightly over her, the touch barely perceptible and yet Jill was so aware of his hands on her. They stayed just like that and then George turned Jill to face him and kissed her tenderly on the lips. His arms around her, he hummed the gum tune quietly as they swayed together, dancing in the dim lamplight. George's voice faded away as the song ended. One more long, slow kiss. A moment's hesitation. Silver grey eyes asking, Are you sure? Hazel eyes answering with a simple, heartfelt yes. Fingers fumbling, unfastening each tiny pearl button. His lips kissing each new portion of her skin uncovered. Another kiss, seeming to last an eternity and yet over much too soon. --- "... soon as I could. I'm amazed that you're still here." Rachel plopped her lawn chair on the ground beside Jill. "And even more astounded that you actually came." Jill hadn't noticed her daughter's approach; she had been deep in thought, deep in the past. "I'm surprised that you were able to get away from work." Jill smiled at her daughter and squeezed her arm. "I lied." Rachel grinned. "I told them I wasn't feeling good, and to mark me down as first to leave. It wasn't that busy, and here I am." Rachel settled down in her chair. "How has the music been?" Jill nodded her head. "A few bands I could have done without, but for the most part, it's been quite enjoyable. "Who's up next?" Jill was glad that the sun had set, and that it was beginning to get dark. She felt her face flush as she replied, "ODB." "ODB? I think I've heard one of their songs on the radio," Rachel replied as she reached into her cooler for a drink. Up near the stage, a group of people picked up their chairs and began to move away. Jill tapped Rachel on the arm. "I want to move up there." Rachel gave her mother a look of astonishment. "Wow, Mom! Any closer and we'd be up on stage with the musicians." Jill attempted to appear aloof as she replied. "Back in the day, I just might have been up on the stage." Rachel looked at her mother with great interest. This was a side of her she'd never seen before. The expression on her mother's face a glimpse of the young woman she used to be, perhaps. Rachel followed her mother, chair in one hand, and the cooler in the other. They made their way to the open spot Jill had spotted. Rachel had to admit that they nearly had a front row view of the stage. Jill watched as the band took the stage. As soon as the first guitar solo began, all doubt was removed. It was George up there. She could tell from the expressions on his face, the way his hands moved over the guitar. She closed her eyes and felt his hands moving over her body on that night so many years ago. --- They stood there in the room, silent. When his fingers finished with the last button, her nightgown fell from her shoulders and caught at her waist. His eyes seemed to drink in her nakedness, a small smile formed on his face. Slowly his eyes traveled back up her body and to her eyes. She liked what she saw in his eyes. Normally being naked in front of Mark made her feel uneasy, a little shy, like the school girl she no longer was. Lately the look on his face was almost more of a leer, full of lechery rather than love. During those times he made her feel like an object, a thing. Something to be gobbled up, to be devoured. George's eyes were different, they filled her with warmth and desire. His eyes made her feel she was a woman to take pleasure in, to be savored. His hands felt different on her body, not like Mark's at all. Compared to George's gentle caresses, Mark's usual touch was clumsy, and more like groping than foreplay. George touched her body as if he was trying to memorize it, to get to know every inch of her and all the secrets she held, even from herself. She felt innocent and open and vulnerable under his hands and under the shadowed gaze of those silvery-blue eyes. Deep down she knew what she was doing wasn't right. She was promised to Mark, but here she was, about to make love with George. Jill didn't try to rationalize it, or to justify it in her mind. Right now, at this moment in time, there was just one person she wanted to be with. His lips met hers again. Her mouth opened slightly as she allowed his tongue free entry into her mouth. Jill reached down and grasped the bottom of George's t-shirt and pulled it up over his head. She wanted to feel his body against hers. Jill wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him against her. She felt his chest press against her breasts. Her eyes closed as she allowed the kiss to take her places she had never been. Unfinished Melody She held her breath as his fingers ran over her breasts. Then a slight gasp as his thumbs softly grazed her sensitive nipples. "Are you sure?" His voice broke the quiet of the room. She could see his face, illuminated by the pale lamplight. Jill didn't answer, not with words. She reached up and brought his face down to hers. She moved her lips to his and thrust her tongue deep into his mouth. Jill wanted him to know that this is want she wanted, she pressed her body firmly against his. A momentary thrill passed through her when she felt his erection pressing against her. She was glad she made him feel this way. George's hands played over her breasts, the color of pearls in the glow of the lamp. Her nipples tightened as George, cupped her breasts in his hands, leaned down and kissed each one, drawing them into his mouth. Jill tugged at her night gown, held up only by the gentle swell of her hips, and it fell to the floor, a puddle of soft pink at her feet. She stepped out of it and took a few paces until her calves touched the edge of the bed. Her eyes traveled from George's eyes, down over his naked chest. She felt a tinge of giddy excitement when her eyes stopped at the bulge in his boxers. Jill smiled at the hearts, and reached out for George's hands, and pulled him towards her. She hooked her thumbs in his waistband, and tugged downwards. George stepped out of his boxers and pulled Jill close. She let out a soft sigh as their bodies came together. Jill could feel the heat of his excitement, and it was only matched by the fire that was burning within her. They slipped in between the cool sheets of the bed. Their gentle caresses were becoming more urgent as their kisses deepened even more. Jill felt a surge of passion when George's hand traveled between her legs and touched her with a gentleness she had never experienced. Jill reached between his legs, and stroked him, relishing the velvety smoothness of his skin, the hardness of him. She scarcely recognized her own voice when she whispered to George, "Take me, I want you." --- The coffee shop sat next door to the motel. George and Jill sat in a booth at the back. Jill hadn't realized how hungry she was until George had suggested they get something to eat. She had been planning on grabbing some supper after leaving the bar, but the non-functioning car had changed that plan. "I'll get the keys to the van, and we can see about getting your car running," George suggested as he finished his second cup of coffee. "That sounds like a good idea. Then, we can have the rest of the day to be together. Oh, unless you need to be with the band today?" Jill wanted to spend the entire weekend with him, but she didn't want him to feel obligated to be with her. "Nope. We usually try to rehearse on Mondays and Wednesdays. It's tough on the guys that sing to rehearse and then have to perform. I'd much rather spend my free time with a pretty girl and you're the prettiest one I've seen in quite a while." Jill searched his face for a sign that he was teasing her, but there was none. A soft blush crossed over her face, she hesitated for a moment, then leaned over and kissed George softly on the cheek. "Thank you, George." He smiled at Jill, "Thanks for what?" "For thinking that I'm pretty." After leaving the diner, they had climbed into the van that the band traveled in, and drove to where Jill had left her car. George peered underneath the hood, and seemed to be wiggling wires. "Well?" Jill asked. "The battery cables seem to be a bit loose. Let me grab a wrench and see what tightening them up does." Jill watched as George retrieved a battered, red toolbox from the van. After cleaning the battery terminals, and tightening the cables, George wiped his hands on a greasy rag and looked at Jill. "Okay, get in and see if it will start." Jill emptied her purse on the hood of the car, looking for her keys. A pang of anxiety came over her. The keys were the link to her life, she wouldn't have missed last night for anything, but eventually she supposed she'd have to get back to the real world, to her real life. She couldn't stay here forever, no matter how much she wished she could. Eventually she'd have to face reality, to get married to Mark, but not right now, not today. Today she would stay with man she'd slept with last night, the one who was perfect for her. "Let's see. I seem to have everything but the keys. Brush. Lipstick. Pens," Jill named each object as she placed it on the car. "Oh, and a camera with one picture left. I'm not sure why I'm carrying that around. One picture isn't going to do me much good." We could have Bo take our picture. A souvenir of your trip to beautiful downtown ... whatever the name of this town is," George joked. "You know. I like that idea. Something to remember you by," Jill replied. "But let's not wait for Bo. It's a bright sunshiny morning and Bo seems like the type to sleep in. I'll just take this last one myself. Smile." Jill's smile was radiant, as was George's as the camera clicked and began the whirring that signaled the film was rewinding. "Wow! That really was the last one. I hope it turns out," George said. "Me, too," Jill answered. "Aha! Keys." Jill climbed behind the wheel and turned the key. The car started up almost immediately. "George, you're wonderful," Jill said, leaning her head out the open window. "Let it run for a couple of minutes and you should be fine." "Thank you once again, George," Jill said, as they walked away from her car. "You're welcome. I never turn down an opportunity to rescue a damsel in distress. And speaking of damsels, what would you like to do today?" "It's a beautiful day. I want to spend it outside with you. Maybe there's a park nearby. You could push me on the swings." Jill smiled up at him as they strolled, holding hands along the sidewalk. And then, could you play that song for me again?" "Which one?" George asked. "Your gum song. I really liked that one." --- Jill glanced sideways for a moment, grateful that her daughter was watching the show on the stage. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes as she watched George, and remembered the passion that weekend. She had fallen in love with George that first night. Now, over two decades later, she felt that love resurface. She remembered the warm tingling in her stomach when he'd look at her and smile. How he had carried his acoustic guitar to the park after getting her car running. He had played for her, and had occasionally sung to her as well. "These guys are good," Rachel leaned over and spoke into her mother's ear. Jill was barely aware that the song had ended. Her mind had been awash in a tide of memories. She nodded, but didn't turn her head, her eyes remained locked on George as she replied. "Yes, they are quite good." She had sat at the same table that night, her eyes rarely straying from George as he played. After he had finished for the night, they had headed back to his motel room. Their lovemaking was different on the second night. There was none of the apprehension, or anxiety of the first time. It had started quietly, the passion slowly building until their bodies had locked together, driving and moving as one. The memories made her feel warm, and she smiled as she remembered the next morning. --- Her eyes opened. Faint shadows bathed the room, dawn still an hour or less away. Good, she thought, as long as it's still night, I can stay here for just one more hour. Just one more day. Just one more lifetime. She listened to his breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. Jill's head was still lying on George's shoulder, and his arm still wrapped around her. Jill watched the darkness of the world outside slip away and with it the best night she'd ever had. It was morning, the perfect time was finished, and she had a decision to make. "Good morning." George's eyes had opened, and he laid a soft kiss on her cheek. His boyish grin made her smile in return. "Good morning to you, too." "Are you hungry?" "Come to think of it, I'm famished," Jill responded. "Should we get dressed, or would you like breakfast in bed?" Mark had never offered her breakfast in bed. More often than not, she was the one out of bed and making coffee or breakfast for the both of them. Jill smiled and put her finger on her chin as if she was trying to come to a difficult decision. "I think—I'll choose..." She kissed George on the cheek. "Breakfast in bed!" George gave her another kiss and swung his legs out of the bed. "Breakfast in bed it is! And what would like for breakfast?" She thought as she watched him pull his pants, and t-shirt on. "Waffles, with blueberries, and strawberries with lots of whipped cream, orange juice, and a cup of coffee." Jill thought for a moment, and then added. "And a guitar player to share it with." George leaned over the bed and gave Jill a gentle kiss on the lips. "I think I can arrange all that." As soon as the door closed behind him, Jill went into the bathroom, washed her face and brushed her teeth. She ran her comb through her tangled curls and began to look in her bag for a fresh set of clothes. No, she thought, fastening the suitcase again without taking out anything. I'm not quite ready for this time to end. Give me just a little more time here, here with him. Today I won't think about what awaits me outside these four walls, this little hotel room, tomorrow and for the rest of my life. Today is just for George and me. A day for us. She climbed back into bed, smoothing the linens around her and folding them back for George to slide into when he returned. She smiled as she heard the key turning in the lock. George was carrying a large tray with two covered plates, two glasses of orange juice, a decanter of coffee, two mugs, and a glass of water with two daisies. "Flowers!" Jill's face burst into a wide smile. George blushed softly. "Well, I thought a pretty girl needed some pretty flowers to go along with her breakfast." She had thought it comical at first sight, the two flowers hanging somewhat haphazardly in the water glass, but the expression on George's face changed how she felt. They weren't comical at all. They were absolutely perfect. She didn't think of herself as being pretty, but if the look in George's eyes was any indication, he thought she was pretty and today, for him, she was pretty. "Thank you, George. That was very sweet of you." Her voice was soft and sincere. George removed his clothing and slipped back into the bed. He slid the tray across their laps, and with the aid of the short legs on each side of the tray, the whole contraption was remarkably steady. "And, voila!" George removed the covers from the plates. Two plates with waffles, fresh blue berries, fresh strawberries and a mountain of whipped cream met Jill's eyes. "Now, that's what I call a lot of whipped cream!" "The waitress looked at me funny when I told her triple whipped cream." George chuckled as he mimicked the waitress' southern drawl. "You want triple whipped cream on both of y'all's orders. I'll have to charge y'all extry for that." Jill sat straight up in bed, and after a couple of mouthfuls of waffle, fruit, and whipped cream, abandoned her tight grip on the sheets, letting them slide over the tops of her breasts and then down to her waist. She felt herself blush and was grateful that George made no comment on her nudity. She felt comfortable with him. It was if sitting in bed, naked and eating breakfast was the natural thing to do. "The berries are delicious." George commented. "Yes," Jill nodded. "And the whipped cream tastes real, not that dream whip stuff." George turned towards Jill. "Hold still, you've got a dab of whipped cream on your nose." He leaned over and licked the bit of whipped cream from the tip of her nose." The feeling of his tongue on her nose made her want to giggle. "That was very gentlemanly of you." She wanted him again. A mischievous spark burned in her eyes as she dabbed a bit of whipped cream on her nipple, it felt cool, and she could feel her nipple crinkle up as it grew erect. Jill turned to George, and with a look of innocence on her face, she said, "Oh, oh. We don't want to waste any of it." George leaned over and licked the drop from her nipple, lingering a bit longer to savor the taste of her along with the whipped cream. He kissed her other breast, his tongue gliding over her taut nipple. "This one is just as sweet without the cream." "Look," she said, taking a small berry, covered in cream, on the tip of her spoon and dropping it onto his chest right above his nipple. "I dropped some. I'll need to clean that up. I'd hate for you to get all sticky." With that, she leaned over and licked the fruit from his chest and lapped at his erect nipple. "Much better," she said with a smile. Jill giggled, took her spoon and dropped a blueberry with some more whipped cream on her other breast. She opened her eyes in mock surprise and said, "Oops." Leaning over, his captured the blueberry and took it into his mouth. His tongue lapped up the whipped cream and once it was gone, he broke the blueberry between his teeth and aloud the purplish blue juice to dribble over her erect pink nipple. George's hand squeezed her firm breast as he took her nipple into his mouth and began to suck on it. George set the tray down on the floor, but kept one of the plates and a spoon on the bed. He slid the sheets down, and they lay there on the bed, naked. Jill's eyes drank in the sight of his naked body, and she was glad to see that he already had an erection. She giggled as he trailed a line of whipped cream down from her breasts and over her stomach. "Oops." George smiled mischievously before moving his mouth over her breasts, lapping up the sweet cream with his tongue before he continued down her body. --- Everyone had looked so happy on that day. Her father, and Mark's father beamed proudly, while both of the mothers cried. The church was perfect, as were the flowers. Anne had helped her get dressed and had given her a hug. "You both are so lucky. What I wouldn't give to be in your shoes." Jill had forced herself to smile. "Yes, I am lucky." She wished she could have told Anne about George, but knew Anne would never approve, or understand. Most likely, she would have felt compelled to tell Mark. Something he had said to her a few days before the wedding stuck in her mind as she stood in the front of the church beside him. "I can't wait to make you my wife," he had said. His wife. Did that mean she would belong to him? As she listened to the minister and looked at Mark, she couldn't help but think he looked like a man who was about to own a new Buick. The minister smiled warmly as he asked, "Do you, Jillian Marie, take this man to be your wedded husband." As her voice answered, "Yes," her mind screamed, 'No! I want George.' --- "And now, we let our guitar player sing." The lead singer of band joked. "We have to, he signs the checks." "Thank you," George stepped forward to a microphone. "For that heartfelt introduction." There was a warm smile on George's face. The smile, and the eyes, they were still the same. The hair was shorter, and bit of grey sprang from it. "This song is for someone special," George's hands moved to his guitar. "So, Jill, wherever you are, this is for you." George began to play, and over twenty years of time vanished. Tears welled up in Jill's eyes and began to flow down her cheeks. She was astonished that after all this time that he had remembered her. And then he began to sing. There were two of us, On a windy and rainy night, Both looking for love, And hope, On Desperation Boulevard. Desperation Boulevard, Where dreams can come true, If even for a night, On Desperation Boulevard. The lyrics burned deep into Jill's soul. She closed her eyes as she remembered the morning. The morning where she had headed back home, to her life, to her family, and to Mark. All the way home she had tried to convince herself that she was doing the adult thing, the right thing by leaving George. Time hadn't lessened that feeling of loss she had experienced. It was the one time in her life she had felt truly loved. Rachel grasped her mother's shoulders and spoke into her ear. "God, for an older guy, he's sexy. Don't you wish you were the Jill?" She didn't hear when her mother whispered, "I am." I had my music, She had her life, But, for a moment, We found each other, And hope, On Desperation Boulevard Desperation Boulevard, Where dreams can come true, If even for a night, On Desperation Boulevard. Jill thought of her life, waking up next to her new husband that morning. She realized right then she'd made a terrible mistake. She cried in that hour right before dawn, feeling the tears flow silently down her cheeks, missing her lost love, before she dried them and resigned herself to the life she'd chosen, regretting always leaving the life, the love, she'd found in that shabby neon-lit hotel room. I headed west, And she went north, I still dream of that night, And hope, For Desperation Boulevard She'd carried those few nights with her, remembering them, cherishing them and, never for one moment, regretting them, but she hadn't realized until now that he had, too. Desperation Boulevard, Where dreams can come true, If even for a night, On Desperation Boulevard It was hard being up on stage, trying to see into the audience with the lights shining in his eyes. But, for the briefest of moments, as he sung the last chorus, George's eyes locked on to a set of eyes in the audience. He could have sworn there was a spark of recognition in them. Rachel watched her mother's face while Jill watched the band. She was transfixed; Rachel thought, by the band, the song. No. Not just the song, the man. The guitar player. What was his name? "George," Jill whispered to herself. "George?" Rachel looked at her mother. "Who's George?" Jill ignored her daughter's question. She was staring through tear-filled eyes at the man on the stage. "Mother, do you know that man?" Rachel asked, curiosity filling her voice. "I used to, a long, long time ago," Jill replied softly, not taking her eyes from his hands, his face, him. Jill watched as, one by one, the band members left the stage until only George was left. He packed up his guitars, pausing once more to look out over the lights, until he, too, walked off the platform and down the steps. "George?" she said, hesitantly, as she waited at the bottom of those stairs. --- "I'll see you later tonight, babe," George said. "It's time to set up. Bo's gonna kill me as it is, for waiting until the last minute." Jill didn't say anything. She just smiled and raised his hand to her lips, kissing the fingers that had caressed her body, made love to her, impressed themselves into her heart, the past two days. She could not bear to tell him the truth, but she would not, could not, lie to him, so she said nothing. * He wouldn't be seeing her later. But she would be seeing him in her dreams for the rest of her life.* She sat down at the same table, the one in the shadows, the one barely visible from the stage. She sat there, eyes closed and listened as the sounds of the bar fell away and the music flowed over her. She took a deep breath and opened her purse. She pulled out the thin sheets of paper she'd taken from the desk of the small hotel room she'd shared with George. Underneath the words Mayfaire Hotel she began to write. Six little words, she thought, six little words that are going to change my life. When the note was finished, she folded it in half and tucked it away in her purse. Unfinished Melody George carried his beer over to the table during his break. Snagging the missing chair from the nearby table where it had sat since that first night, he held her hand and sipped his beer. "Everything okay, Jill?" he asked. "You seem quiet this evening." George's voice was concerned. "Just thinking, I guess," she answered. Bo's amplified voice from the stage interrupted their conversation. "If I could have my guitar player back, we'd be able to start the next set." The bar broke into scattered laughter and applause. "I guess that's my cue," George said, rising from the chair. "I'd rather stay with you, but that won't pay the bill or make these people happy." He gave her a long, slow kiss and walked back to the stage, picked up his guitar and began to play. Jill listened to George as he played the last set. She tried to memorize his hands, his voice, his face, him, as the band's music rocked the bar. When the band announced, "Last one for the evening, folks. A slow one to get everyone in the mood," Jill opened her purse once again and removed the note. She reapplied her lipstick with slightly trembling fingers, unfolded the note and added a kiss to the bottom. She flagged the waitress over, handed her the note and asked her to make sure George got it when the set was finished. She blinked back the tears beginning to fall, unzipped the side pocket of her purse and slid the engagement ring back onto her finger. As the band played the last verse of If You Could Read My Mind, Jill walked out of the bar and into the night. The cocktail waitress saw George waiting patiently by the table Jill had been sitting at. "Looking for the girl who was sitting here?" When George nodded, she handed him a note. "She left this for you." George opened the folded slip of paper. 'I'm so sorry, George. Love, Jill.' "Hey, George!" Bo yelled from the door. "We're loaded up and ready to roll. Jill coming along?" he asked, knowing how his friend felt about this girl. "I guess not," George answered, opening his guitar case and placing the note carefully inside. "You okay, buddy?" Bo asked. "No, but I will be," George replied as he grabbed his guitar case and walked out into another rainy night. --- George heard his name. He looked down towards the voice and then froze on the stairs. "Jill?" Rachel was aghast that her mother had walked over to the side of the stage. She had just left her standing there. She watched as the man carrying the guitar case slowly walked down the steps, set his case down, and took her mother into his arms. "Is it really you?" He looked into her eyes, knowing what the answer was, but scarcely believing it. "I can't believe it's you." Jill felt the tears return to her eyes. "You have no idea how many times over the years that I..." George put a finger to her lips, silencing the rest. "About as many times as I regretted not asking you to stay." "But you didn't know I was going to leave." "I knew something was on your mind that last night. I just didn't know what." Rachel looked at her mother, in the arms of a man she'd never seen before, one of the musicians from that night's concert and looking happier than she'd seen her mother look in a long, long time, perhaps ever. "Mother?" Rachel had walked to where Jill and George stood in an embrace. "Could you explain what's going on?" Rachel was confused. First, it had taken a near miracle to get her mother out of the house, and now here she was in the arms of a complete stranger. Jill wiped her eyes and pulled back. "George, this is my daughter, Rachel. Rachel, this is George." George reached out and shook Rachel's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Suddenly, Rachel felt like she was intruding on something, and felt uncomfortable. "Mother, I think I'll head home, that is if you don't want me to stay." Jill nodded at Rachel. "That's fine, I'd like to talk with George for a while." After Rachel had left George asked Jill, "Would you like to go somewhere, get a drink, a cup of coffee?" "Yes, I'd like that." Jill tried her best to keep the tears from returning. She leaned up and kissed George softly on the cheek. --- They found corner table in a quiet bar. Jill couldn't help but stare at George. Time had been kind to him, if anything, she thought he was even more attractive. "I still can't believe that I'm sitting here with you." George reached over and squeezed Rachel's hand. "I never thought I'd find you again, I always hoped, but never gave much of a realistic chance." "I can't describe how I feel right now. Almost like I've been reborn and that tonight is the first day of a new life." "I don't know if I should say this, but I've waited for over twenty years to tell you this." George took a deep breath and looked straight into Jill's eyes. "I'm in love with you. I have been since that first night." "How can you still love me, after all this time?" Jill looked into his soft grey eyes. "Real love doesn't know time. Time doesn't run out on it. It just is." George's voice was soft and low. "I'd cry alone at night, knowing I'd left—no, that I'd run away from the one person who was perfect for me." "I used to have dreams of you. Well, I still have dreams. And then I wake up, the familiar ache would be there. I'd close my eyes, and could swear that I could smell your hair. Feel you against me." "Why didn't you ever marry? There had to be other girls after me," Jill asked. Her voice was quiet and soft. "Yes. There were girlfriends after you." George stared off into the distance for a moment and then his eyes returned to hers. "But I never felt the way I felt about you, not even close. Over the years I came to accept that it's possible to live a lifetime in a couple of days, and that's how I felt about that weekend with you." Jill felt her heart break and the tears stung her eyes. "Oh, George. I'm so sorry..." "There's nothing to feel sorry about. We've found each other again, that's all that matters." She took a deep breath, and summoned all of her courage. "George, I want you to come home with me tonight, I want..." Her eyes almost pleaded with his. He nodded softly. "Yes, I want to." "Oh, George. We wasted. No. I wasted twenty years we could have spent together. A life time of kisses and lovemaking and love." "You didn't waste them, Jill. You have a beautiful daughter. That alone makes it worthwhile." "About my daughter, George." Jill sat up and wrapped the sheets around her. --- Rachel sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee, and trying to make sense of what had happened the previous night. Jill emerged from her bedroom. "Good morning." "Morning, Mom." Rachel pointed to the coffee pot. "The coffee's fresh." Rachel waited until her mother sat down at the table. "Would you care to tell me what happened last night?" Jill studied her daughter for a few moments, took a sip of coffee and a deep breath. "You might not like what you're about to hear, but there's nothing I can do about that. All that I ask is you sit there and listen, and wait until I'm done." "Okay." Rachel nodded. "Two weeks before the wedding I started having doubts, a case of cold feet I guess. I wanted to get away for the weekend and just try to think things out." Jill traveled back two decades to the weekend she met George. Jill left very little out of her story. Rachel sat quietly and listened to her mother. At times she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry. When Jill finished she reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn envelope and pulled a picture out it. She slid it across the table to Rachel. "This is all I had from that weekend." Rachel studied the picture. She marveled at how pretty her mother had been, and how happy she looked. A handsome young man stood with his arms around her. There was something familiar about his face, but she knew she'd never met him, never looked into those silver grey eyes. Eyes so very much like her own. "It's almost like looking into a mirror." Rachel looked up in astonishment at her mother. "When did you realize..." "That your father wasn't your father?" Jill asked quietly. "Yes." "Very early on, it was your eyes." "Did dad ever know?" Rachel looked questioningly at her mother. Jill nodded her head as she held the cup. "Yes, I think so. We had tried to have another child after you were about two, and nothing happened. When you were about five, we found out that your father was pretty much sterile, his sperm count was about zero. He never directly accused me, but after that, our marriage was pretty much over." Rachel handed the picture back to Jill. "You had more than this from that weekend, you had me." A warm glow emanated from Jill's face. "Yes, and every day of your life, I saw George's eyes." Before Rachel could reply George's voice called out. "Is that coffee that I smell?" He stepped into the kitchen wearing a pair of striped boxer's and a well-worn t-shirt. As soon as he saw Rachel, he blushed and managed a quick apology as he retreated to the bedroom. "Mother!" Rachel looked aghast at Jill. "You brought him home?" "And why not?" Jill tried not to sound embarrassed. "I'm a single woman, and if you recall, I didn't say anything when you brought Dustin home." "Justin." Jill corrected her mother. "And that was different." "Rachel, why is it different?" "Well, because Justin and I— I've known him for years. We're in love," Rachel explained exasperatedly. "You've just met this guy. You don't love him. You don't even know him." Her voice rose in frustration. "No, Rachel. That's where you're wrong. I loved him twenty-one years ago and I never stopped." George reappeared wearing his pants, and much to Jill's relief, his reappearance into the kitchen interrupted the conversation. He leaned over and kissed Jill on the cheek, and gave Rachel a cheery, "Good morning!" Rachel tried to disapprove, but his warm smile, and the glow on her mother's face made it impossible. "Good morning," Rachel said, holding out her hand, "I'm Rachel. I think I'm your daughter." George took her hand and shook it. "So I've been told." "So what are you crazy kids going to do now?" Rachel raised her eyebrows and looked at her mother first and then at George. Jill blushed. "Well, George has about a month left on his tour, he's asked me to go along with him." "And I said," she paused for a moment, her cheeks seemed to glow as she gazed into his eyes, "yes." "And," George said, taking Jill's hand and kissing it softly, "there's a little hotel room a few hours south of here we need to revisit." Desperation Boulevard, Where dreams can come true, If even for a night, On Desperation Boulevard.