The Final Encore

The song, Turn the Page, by Bob Seger, is the inspiration for this short story. It came on while doing dishes and staring out the kitchen window. I swear, I get my best ideas while doing the dishes! I have started it many times only to scrap it altogether, until recently. I decided to give it one more shot two weeks ago. While my son had play practice, I found a quiet place and wrote. I hope you enjoy it.

The Final Encore

Claire could see the car parked in her driveway when she turned on her street. It wasn’t Bevin’s car. Her daughter would be at work this time of day. She slowed down as she approached her drive. She figured if something hinky had been going on she could keep going and ask a neighbor for help.

She saw him leaning against the hood of the car, smoking a Marlboro, because he always smoked Marlboro’s. She stopped her car at the bottom of her driveway and just stared up at him. He looked exactly the same. Brown curly hair, which now had thinned and some grey around his temples and ears. He hid behind dark sunglasses, but she knew the leather jacket and who filled it out after all these years. Arden Shelby.

Claire met Arden while a freshman at Michigan State University.  He played guitar in a band at a frat party one fall weekend. Her roommate Cassie convinced her to go to the party with her. Cassie had just started dating him.

When the band took a break, Cassie had been in the bathroom throwing up from too many shots of tequila. Arden introduced himself.

“You must be Cassie’s roomie?”

“That I am. Claire.” She held out her hand. “She is, um, in the bathroom.”

While they waited, he offered her a Heineken. They discovered a mutual love for American Modernism, Georgia O’Keefe and visits to The Art Institute of Chicago.

“You go often?” Arden asked.

“Every chance I get. I don’t have a car so if I can’t convince someone to drive, I’ll take the train.”

A short time later the band reconvened for their second set. Cassie still hadn’t showed up.

“I should go and see if she needs some help or something.”

“Yeah, tell Cassie I’ll swing by later, after the party.” He started to walk away; he turned back around, “Maybe sometime we can go to Chicago together? I have transportation.”

This had been the beginning of Claire and Arden’s friendship. He spent a lot of time hanging out in their dorm room. Sometimes Cassie would be out with friends and he would stop by. They could talk for hours about art, music, movies but most of the time they talked about their futures.

“If the band could get a chance to open for someone big, it would be a game changer.”

“It will happen, just wait. You have a better chance at hitting it big than I do. My dad is afraid I will become a starving artist.”

“As my old man once asked, do you have a back-up plan?”

“Yeah, if I can’t find a decent job as a curator or sell million-dollar paintings my back-up plan is teaching art. Not just anywhere, but somewhere hip and chic. Anywhere but North Dakota.”

“North Dakota? Do people still live there?” Arden smiled.

***

Claire grew up on the harsh landscape of North Dakota. Her family still lived on the original homestead her Norwegian great, great grandparents settled in the late 1800’s. The farm, located an hour southwest of the Turtle Mountains and the Canadian border had the original sod house with additions added on through the years and growth of the Andersen family. Many homesteaders left as the years went by to move into the larger towns and cities in hopes of escaping the brutal environment. Claire’s great grandfather, Erik Andersen worked hard alongside his father Thorin, to raise a few dairy cows because, as Thorin always said, “Ja, everyone needs milk.”

Over the years, beef cows grazed alongside the dairy cows. As families moved into the towns the Andersen’s purchased their small farms and added enough acres to eventually make out a living and put a bit aside. Claire’s dad had been the first to attend college in his family. That had been how he met Elizabeth, or Betty as everyone had called her, Claire’s mother.

Betty grew up in a middle-class family in Chicago. Her dad had been a police officer and her mother worked as a secretary for an uncle at his law firm. One summer, during a break from her college studies, Betty and her cousin Margaret took the train to Grand Forks for jobs at a Methodist Church Camp.

Andrew Andersen was the handsomest man she had ever laid eyes on. He had thick wavy blonde hair. His smile started from one side of his face and ended at the other. He had the bluest eyes. He worked as a lifeguard and took the kids on canoe trips.

On the first weekend between visiting campers, all the employees had a cook-out and Betty made sure to find a seat as close to Andrew as she possibly could without raising an eyebrow. It may have been the sixties but the Methodist still kept a certain decorum.

Over the summer they snuck off whenever they had a chance. They had a secret hiding spot on the other side of the lake in the woods. They were both in love by the end of the summer and promised they would find a way to be together after they had finished college. Betty had two years left at Wheaton in the nursing program and Andrew had just finished his final year in education. A teaching position back home waited for him in the fall.

Their last night at camp, after everyone had turned in to their bunks, the two of them snuck off to their special place. Promises were made, so was Claire.

A month after her return to Chicago, Betty found out she was pregnant. Her parents, devout Christians, bought her a train ticket, one way, to North Dakota.

Andrew and Betty had a quiet ceremony at Andrew’s church. His entire family were in attendance. They made a special dinner for the two newlyweds in the church basement.

“It’s not what we had expected for you Andrew. However, she seems like a lovely girl.” His Nana had told him the day of the wedding.

“Ja, your Nana here was baking your Uncle Charles in the oven when I married her.” They all quietly laughed.

The Andersen family agreed the best place for the young couple would be the old Olsen homestead. It had been purchased a few years prior and the house stood empty while the fields grew some of the best winter wheat.

Andrew worked for the family farm on the weekends. With his job as fifth grade teacher at the elementary school they settled into their new life together. In a few short years, Andrew took the job as high school principal. When Claire had been old enough to be left with family members, Betty worked one town over, at the twenty-five-bed county hospital as a nursing assistant on the second shift.

Betty would take Claire back to Chicago every other year to visit Betty’s mother and sisters. Her father somehow always had an out-of-town business meeting when she visited. Her father held resentment towards his daughter who, in his words, had lost her moral compass.

Betty had hoped the visits would show her daughter there had been a whole world out there other than the high prairie. A place full of art and culture from all parts of the world. A place where people lived.

Betty struggled. She had been a fish out of water living in North Dakota. She tried to make the best of it but inside she was wilting away. Mental health was not a polite topic back then. She lost weight. She would spend hours just sitting on the porch staring out to the south like a bird waiting to take its annual flight back at the end of summer. Betty longed to move back to the city; she kept her secret to herself.

“Now Betty, if you want to have more babies, we need to cheer you up.” The women folk would encourage. There were no more children.

Claire had known since she was five, she would be an artist, on her visit back that summer, her mother and Aunt Rhoda had taken her to The Art Institute of Chicago for the day. She loved the smell of the oils and canvas, musty and old. The murmurs and excitement from visitors seeing a Claude Monet for the first time. Her favorite painting had been White Shell With Red. When she saw her first Georgia O’Keefe she knew right then, she had seen her future. She looked forward to those visits and insisted her mother take her to the museum on each one.

Claire’s mother had died when she was ten. She was driving home from work one blustery night when her car left the road and wrapped around a Cottonwood. The patrolman on duty that night said there were no skid marks from braking. Her dad never remarried; his heart broken. He felt responsible.

* * *

“I thought we talked about this.” Her father said. “I thought you were going to North Dakota State in Fargo?”

“Dad, they have a great art program but you were the one who has always told me to shoot for the stars. On a whim, I applied to MSU. They loved my application and offered me a chance of a life time. Between what we have saved and the scholarships it’s about the same.”

            “It’s so far away.”

“Dad, it’s not like I won’t be home during the holidays and summers.”

When Claire boarded the Amtrak on that humid day in August nineteen eighty-six, she had no plans of ever returning to the high plains of North Dakota, unless it was a once in a blue moon visit over the holidays. Her goals were set on the world beyond in a major city known for the arts, Chicago, New York, perhaps Paris.

* * *

Arden had a 1975 Volkswagen Bus for driving the band from one local gig to the next. Road trips to Chicago were a bit tougher on his old van, as he found out on Thanksgiving weekend. Cassie went home for the holiday in Dearborn. She hadn’t been ready to introduce her rock star boyfriend to her family.

 Claire spent Thanksgiving her freshman year eating a microwave meal that tasted like the box it came in.  She had made plans with Arden to drive down Friday for a long day of visiting the Institute of Art and grabbing a pizza at Gino’s before the drive back later in the evening. Arden had picked her up at six the next morning. A four-hour trip with a stop for breakfast in Kalamazoo would get them to the museum as the doors opened.

They found a Denny’s right off the interstate. In less than an hour they climbed back into the bus. Arden turned the key and a small grinding noise came from under the hood. The van wouldn’t start.

“I think it’s the battery.” He said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means it’s a holiday weekend and the odds of finding a garage to fix it is going to be impossible.”

Luck had been on their side. Arden found a garage that could fix it, but it wouldn’t be done until late afternoon Saturday.

“Sorry our day in Chicago turned out an overnight in Kalamazoo. I can get you a train ticket back to East Lansing?”

“No way, two days in Kalamazoo? Are you kidding me?”

They had the van towed to the garage and spent the day walking around Kalamazoo. Together they pooled their money and found a room at the Best Western.  With the money they had left over they bought a pizza and a six pack of beer. That night they watched movies and talked well into the next morning.

As promised, the Volkswagen was fixed on Saturday and Claire and Arden had become the best of friends. When Claire started dating Steven, her math lab partner, she would talk to Arden about their relationship before she would talk with her girlfriends. If Cassie was mad at Arden, he would meet Claire for coffee and she would listen and offer advice. If Claire had been painting late into the night, Arden would stop over after a gig with a pizza and a bottle of wine.

Claire moved into a rental house with Cassie and two other girls their sophomore year. Arden practically lived there himself. One day, when Claire thought she was home alone she started singing to the radio. Bob Segar’s Turn the Page had come on while she was sitting at the kitchen table doing homework. She was half way through the first verse when Arden came out of Cassie’s bedroom. He came into the kitchen and joined Claire singing the rest of the song.

“You never told me you could sing.” He said.

“I can’t.”

“Awe come on, aren’t you taking a minor in music?”

“It doesn’t mean I can sing.”

“Wait here.”

Arden went back into Cassie’s room and returned with a guitar.

“I’m going to play a little bit of the cords to Turn the Page, just try.”

Claire began to sing along and Arden joined her. He switched to Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here. Claire sang along with that as well.

“You have an amazing voice, Claire.”

“Awe shucks, stop. No, go on.” She teased.

“No, I mean it. Look, Jenny is thinking about leaving the band.”

“I heard she broke up with Dave.”

Dave was the drummer in Arden’s band, Hot Vinegar. His girlfriend, Jenny was one of two back-up singers. The other was Shandra; she dated the bassist, Kurt. Arden’s band did a nice mix of cover tunes and original songs.

“Look, just come tomorrow night. We have a small set at The Green Door. It’s a battle of the bands kind of thing. We go on at ten. Just think about it.”

“Won’t Jenny get pissed if I show up and bust a move on her stage time?”

“Don’t worry about that. I promise you won’t have anything to worry about.”

True to his word, Jenny had been no problem that night. She never showed and Claire never asked. She got up on stage after two good shots of whiskey and stood behind her microphone and sang like she had been part of the band the entire time. Shandra gave her a tambourine.

After their set, Cassie, Claire and everyone in the band except Kurt, he grew up Mormon, had a few more shots. Claire felt alive for the first time in a long time. She had been so focused on her studies that she had forgotten she was a young woman needing some fun.

They left The Green Door and took the party to The Peanut Barrel. They did more shots and played darts. Claire could feel the effects of the alcohol.

“I need to go back to the house. I’m starting to spin.” Claire said.

“Me too.” Cassie chimed in. “Arden, walk us drunk messes back and I’ll make it worth your while.” She was slurring her words and wrapping her arms in a sloppy manner around his shoulders.

Arden blushed. Cassie had embarrassed him in front of Claire. As of late, his feelings had shifted towards Claire. He had started to look at her in a different light. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he wanted to be more than just friends. “You ladies are drunk. You need food in your stomachs to help soak up the booze.”

Arden ordered three olives burgers and fries to go. He paid for the food and the three of them ate it on the walk back to the girl’s house. He left his van and keys with Kurt.

When they reached the house, they all stumbled in the side door. Claire fell on the step up from the door into the kitchen. Arden helped her back up.

“You ok?”

“Yeeesss, I am fine. Just fine.” Claire said, right as she stumbled into the half bath just off the landing. She had just reached the toilet when everything that had been consumed over the last eight hours came rushing out. She never had a chance to lift the lid to the toilet.

“Oh boy.” Cassie said. She kept going and went on through the house straight to her bedroom. She shut the door and left Arden to help Claire.

“Okay you. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’m soooo sorry Arden. I never, ever do this sort of thing.” She had specks of vomit stuck in her hair.

Arden got a warm washcloth and did his best to clean Claire up. He sat her down at the kitchen table and made her some black tea and toast to help settle her stomach. While she nibbled on her toast, he cleaned the bathroom.

Arden helped Claire to her room. He sat her on the bed. Claire had slurred her words and her eyes were bloodshot.

“Arden?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you doing this. Helping my drunk ass to bed? Are you trying to take advantage of me in my stupor?”

“No, just helping out my best friend who doesn’t hold her liquor very well.”

“Well, that’s only because I don’t drink very much you know. I am a gooood girl.”

“Yes Claire, you are a very good girl.”

“You could, you know.”

“I could what?’

“Take advantage of me.”

“Oh, Claire, if you only knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, okay, then.”

Arden pulled her shirt off and with a small struggle got her corduroys off too. He tossed them into her laundry basket in the closet and found a nightgown in her dresser. Claire sat there as he placed it over her head and put her arms through. He stood her up and pulled it down over her soft hips. He helped her into bed and pulled all the blankets up snug around her neck. He turned to leave.

“Arden? Don’t I get a kiss good-night?”

He didn’t know what to say but he bent down anyway and kissed. He lifted his head up a bit.

“I love you, Arden Shelby.” Claire rasped.

Arden bent down and kissed her again, more deeply. Claire kissed him back.

“I love you too Claire.” He stood up. “Get some sleep.”

“No, I really mean it Arden. I looove you. I wish you dated me instead of Cassie.”

“I do too, Claire.” Arden kissed her forehead. He could hear her softly snoring.

He left her room and that night he slept on the couch instead of Cassie’s bed. Arden never mentioned their shared kiss.

* * *

Arden had a rough life. He grew up in a lower middle-class neighborhood in Lansing, Michigan. His family could have lived in a nicer house, in a swankier neighborhood, his dad worked for General Motors. In the late eighties, line workers made a decent wage with benefits. James Shelby had a drinking and gambling problem. Not to mention his womanizing. He had a short fuse when it came to his temper. He would come home cold drunk. If he had won a little bit of money at cards that night things were jovial. Unfortunately, more times than not, he would lose most, if not all, his money. Those were the nights Arden’s mother, Joan, little sister, Emma and Arden would hide in the basement bedroom and quietly watch television. When James came home from a good night of drinking and a bad night of cards something always got damaged. Usually, it had been Joan.

Joan watched a few neighborhood kids. The little money she made was what kept the lights on and some food on the table. Her sister, Amy, would help her out with kids clothing. She had a son who was three years older that Arden and would give him the hand-me-downs. She had a daughter the same age as Emma. Amy would buy two of every new outfit for her daughter and give one to her niece.

Amy would take Joan to Meijer on Sundays after church. She would always buy extra and make sure it had been bagged separately. Sometimes they would stop for lunch at Bill Knapps.

“Why don’t you just leave him? Bob said you and the kids could move in with us. We have a nice apartment over the garage until you can find something more permanent.” Amy would say often.

“I just can’t. I do love him.” Joan would always reply.

Except for that cold day in November when Joan and the kids went without James to Amy’s home for Thanksgiving. Joan showed up with a hot potato dish, a black eye and some devastating news.

Joan had breast cancer and the doctors had received the test results to what they had already suspected, it had spread. They gave Joan less than a year to live and make her final arrangements.

Joan decided to move in with her sister under the guise Amy would be more able to help with the kids. Arden had just turned fifteen and Emma ten. The four months with her sister gave her peace knowing James couldn’t hurt her or the children. She passed away on a cold day in March, after a two day stay in hospice.

The day of the funeral James came for the kids. Amy begged for him to leave them with her. She promised he could see them whenever he wanted. She tried to explain that Arden would need to start planning for college soon and Emma would need a female influence to help her through the changes of puberty.

“The only thing you would influence her on would how best to snag a rich man like you did, Amy.” His breath reeked of stale alcohol and cigarettes.

“Now James, Amy is only trying to help.” Bob replied.

Bob made a decent living as a realtor. He also had a few rental properties throughout the Lansing area. “I sure could use Arden to help me with simple upkeep on my rental properties.”

“These are my kids and I only let them stay here with their mother because I knew it would be the last time they would get the chance.” 

He continued. “I know my faults and I know I wasn’t a perfect husband but I promised Joan on her death bed I would do better by her memory with the kids. So, if you will please get their things, I’d like to take them home.”

Whether James made that promise or not, it didn’t last long. He came home blind drunk every night. Even if he made money at cards, something broke. Sometimes it had been Arden.

Arden wanted to run away from home. He thought about it often. He just couldn’t leave his little sister. He knew his dad would start in on her if he left. Arden found a part time job at a grocery store, bagging groceries. His uncle hired him to help mow the lawns on his rental properties during the summers. Once James knew his son had been making money from his jobs, he demanded Arden give it to him.

“I’m giving you a roof over your head. Now give me your paycheck.” He said right before he smacked Arden so hard it dropped him to the kitchen floor.

His Uncle Bob helped him to save half his money for college by opening a bank account that his father knew nothing about. He gave Arden two paychecks, one to take home to James and the other he would deposit into his savings account.

“I’m sorry son, I can’t help you with your paycheck from the store.”

“It’s okay, Uncle Bob.”

One of the first things Arden bought with his money was a used Fender acoustic guitar and a beginner’s guide to learning the basics. He would practice every day to the radio in the kitchen while Emma did her homework. As soon as they saw the lights of their dad’s car pull into the driveway, he would put it back in its case and quickly hide it in the broom closet. Arden learned long ago to never hide anything of value in his room. His dad would find it. If it was money, he would take it. If it was anything of even minute value, he would take it and pawn it off. Arden learned the best way to hide anything of value was to hide it where his dad would never look. Broom closet, linen closet, and sometimes right out in the open, all places James would never think to look. After his dad knocked him around one night when he couldn’t find anything to steal of value, he accused Arden of holding out from him. After being slammed into his bedroom wall, Arden left a ten or twenty-dollar bill laying around in his top dresser drawer. It seemed to work, because the money always came up missing and Arden didn’t get smacked around, at least for that.

Arden made good grades. He made sure his sister did the same. He braided her hair every morning and made sure she had a hot breakfast and a packed lunch. Arden cooked the meals and together they both did the best they could to keep their house in good order. Which wasn’t easy since it needed a new roof and the toilet in the guest bathroom hadn’t worked in months.

Arden read to Emma at night even though they both knew she had outgrown the habit.  Sometimes he would cuddle up with her and fall asleep, only to be awaken by her crying out for their mother. He protected her as much as he could and tried to make a normal life for her.

Their Aunt Amy would bring groceries over once a week with directions to hide as much as they could from their dad. Amy feared the repercussion if James found out she had helped in any way.

The winter of Arden’s senior year was cold. By the first of December in nineteen-eighty-five, the furnace stopped working properly and his dad had no intentions of getting it fixed.

“You make money. If you want heat, you pay for the son-of-a-bitch to get fixed.”

The police showed up the last week in February that winter. They had pulled his father’s car out of Grand River. James Shelby had two black eyes, four broken ribs and one bullet hole in the right temple. They never found out who murdered him, but everyone had their suspicions. Recently, James had been hanging out with a different kind of crowd. A more sinister bunch.

That night the kids walked out of the house of horrors and left everything behind except for that used Fender. They moved in with their aunt and uncle and for the first time could live a fairly normal life. Afterall, the damage had been done and some wounds left deep scars.

* * *

“So why did you decide to go to MSU?” Claire had asked one night over shared nachos and a pitcher of sangria at El Azteco.

“They had a decent music program and I really wanted to stay near my kid sister. She is still in high school and I remember those years all too well. I couldn’t let her run through that alone.”

“What about your aunt and uncle? Don’t they take good care of her?”

“Sure, but I’m her brother. I have been with her through all the bad and I want to be with her in the good.”

“Oh man. If you weren’t dating my roommate.”

“If I wasn’t dating your roommate, what?”

“You know. I would snatch you up like that.” She snapped her fingers.

Arden thought about that. His feelings for Claire since that night their sophomore year after that kiss had privately grown over the last two years.

Arden’s relationship as of late with Cassie had struggled. They were nearing the end of their last year in college. Cassie had expensive taste and tended to be high maintenance. She had started putting hints out there about the future. Their future to be exact. Arden just wasn’t sure about his relationship with her anymore.

“How are you and Steven doing these days?”

“Well, he doesn’t like the fact that I sing back-up anymore. He’s been accusing me of cheating on him with all the groupies.”

“Really? All the groupies?”

“Yeah, he even accused me once of sleeping with you.” Claire takes a sip of her sangria. “Can you believe it?”

“Yeah, can you believe that?”

“Cassie said he is making all those accusations because of guilt.”

“Guilt?”

“Yeah, she thinks he is cheating on me.”

“Is he?”

Claire thought for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know.”

Two weeks before graduation Claire and the band had a gig at a house party on Grove Street. A bunch of rich seniors who wanted to go out with a bang had hired two bands to play in their basement. The opening band did cover songs from the latest grunge hits. They were to play two small sets before Hot Vinegar. By the time the band pulled up the back alley to unload their gear the house was packed. Shoulder to shoulder in a dim lit house with essence of stale beer and weed, twenty-somethings mingled about loudly.

There had actually been a hired bouncer to keep underaged students from entering. He held the door open for Arden and the band as they made their way into the house and down the basement stairs. The first band had just finished their second set and had started packing up their instruments and gear.

After Hot Vinegar had everything set up, they decided to head upstairs. Earlier, the bouncer had informed them about the third level of the house. A bedroom had been set up for them to hang before they started and between sets. Another hired bouncer sat in a chair at the bottom of the staircase making sure only those with permission would go up.

“Whoa, look at this.” Kurt exclaimed as he opened the door to an oversized bedroom. “These rich kids sure know how to throw a party.”

The attic bedroom had two twin beds on either side of the slanted walls. Down the middle was a large table with various chips, candies, a tray of sandwiches balanced in a larger tray of ice. There were tubs of potato salad and macaroni salad on ice as well. A large bowl of mixed nuts sat next to the cutlery. In the center of the table a variety of whisky, vodka and gin stood. At the far end of the room stood a small refrigerator.

“Dude, what are the odds it’s stocked with beer?” Dave asked.

The entire band stood next to Dave as he opened the door. Inside, the shelves were stocked with six-packs of various domestic and imported beers.

A knock at the door caused the band to quickly shut the refrigerator.

“Yeah? Come in.” Arden said.

The door opened and a well-groomed man entered. He was tall and had a button-down Polo shirt tucked into his beige dress pants. He wore loafers that shined in the sparsely lit room. He looked too tan for the end of April.

“Hi, you must be Arden.” He held out his hand. “Carter Johnson. We spoke last week. Is this going to work for you and the band?” He said as he spread his hands out and over the bedroom in a grand gesture.

“Of course. We appreciate it very much. You really didn’t need to go through all the trouble.”

“No, no trouble at all. I hope you don’t mind, but I have a few friends coming in to the party tonight. You might be seeing them up here as well.”

“Of course.”

“Is there anything you need before you start your first set?”

Arden looked at the band.

“Um, yes, where might I find a bathroom?” Claire asked.

“Sure. There is one right down the hall.”

“Thanks.” Claire turned to Arden, “I’ll be right back.”

Claire headed down the dark hallway. There were three closed doors and she wasn’t sure which one had been the bathroom. She tried the first door on her left.

“Knock-knock.” Her hand turned the knob and she peeked in only to find an empty bedroom. She closed the door and continued on to the door right next to it.

“Knock-knock.” She said as she entered a dimly lit room.

“Hey, this room is occupied. Go find another.” Said a man’s voice.

Claire froze. Less than five feet in front of her had been a double bed with a large mass moving about under a pile of blankets. Her eyes adjusted, and at the same time her ears pricked up with the familiarity of the man’s voice.

“Steven?”

The movement stopped suddenly.

Claire spoke with intent and clarity. “Steven, is that you under there?”

Still nothing.

Claire waited. She thought she could hear whispering. She tiptoed over to the side of the bed. She reached her shaking hand out towards the blankets. With swift action she ripped the blankets back to find two naked bodies entwined. One body had been that of a skinny woman with long reddish-brown hair. The naked man wrapped up with her had been Steven.

“You fuck!” Claire screamed as she smacked the blankets down over his naked body and face. She left the room.

She opened the third and final door which had been the bathroom and made it to the toilet just before she retched. After she had finished, she splashed cool water over her face and left the bathroom.

“Hey, you okay?” Shandra asked. “You don’t look so good.”

“I just found Steven in bed with some other woman.”

“What? Here?”

“Yeah, I never told him exactly where we would be playing tonight, he’s been acting funny lately. Now I guess I know why.”

Claire walked over to the table and pours out a large shot of whiskey. She tossed it back and poured another.

“Listen, don’t say anything to Arden. I’ll tell him after the gig. Okay?”

“Sure. But you better not drink too many of those or you won’t make it through both sets.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m fine.” She stuffed a handful of mixed nuts into her mouth.

The band went down for their first set. They played for about an hour before heading back up to the third floor.

“Great job guys.” Arden said as they all took some food and a beer from the fridge. Claire poured herself a large whiskey and sat on one of the beds.

“Hey, you okay?” Arden sat down next to Claire and nudged his left shoulder into her. “Not like you to drink like this.” He pointed to her glass.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I need you to be there during the second set.”

“Jesus Arden, I’m an adult. I can drink a little whiskey if I so choose.” She got up from the bed and left the third floor.

After the second set the band had started packing up when Claire approached Arden.

“Hey, you got a second.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Sorry about snapping at you earlier like that.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Claire let out a big puff of air. “I had caught Steven in bed with some chick.”

“What?” 

“Yeah, I think her name is Debbie or something like that. I didn’t recognize her at first until she lifted up her arm. I recognized her hairy armpits. She is dating one of Steven’s roommates.”

“Geeze.”

“Well, I had heard some people talking lately. Seems like she is sleeping with all of them. Including my boyfriend.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” Arden asked.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

***

Claire invited Arden into her house. She hadn’t been sure whether to hug him or not. The whole showing up in her drive made her feel uneasy. Something ominous lingered in the atmosphere.

“Wow, Arden. It’s been like what? Thirty years?”

“May I?” He asked pointing to a kitchen chair.

“Of course. Can I get you something to drink?” Claire fumbled for words. “Do you want something to eat? I can get a pizza or something?”

“A cold beer would be nice. Do you happen to have any malt vinegar flavored potato chips?”

Claire laughed. “You still eat those nasty things?”

“To this day.”

Claire pulled out two Molson’s and grabbed a bag of chips out of her pantry. She opened the bottles and gave one to Arden, who turned over the bag of chips.

“No, way.”

“You got me hooked.”

Arden took a sip of his beer. He put the bottle down and quickly grabbed Claire’s hands.

There had been a look of panic in his eyes that gave Claire a shiver. “Claire, I’m dying. I have an in operatable tumor. I have less than a year to live.” He squeezed her hand and a tear fell from his eye.

Claire looked down at his hand over hers. She saw a tear fall on her hand and then another.

“I didn’t know exactly how to tell you this. I decided the best thing to do would be to just get it out there. Quickly.”

Claire could see her tears as they crashed on their joined hands.

Claire looked up, “We have a daughter. Her name is Bevin, after your mother’s middle name. She is a great kid who works at the two-year college just north of here.”

“Well, I guess I wasn’t the only one with something to say.” Arden said.

***

Claire had been respectful of his relationship with Cassie. That first night Claire had met Arden she fell for him. His dark eyes, his large smile had pulled her in. Being around him felt like wearing your favorite outfit because it made you feel good and comfortable.

As their friendship grew so did her love. She loved him because he was her best friend but as time went on, she pined for more.

Claire never admitted to Arden that she remembered the night he had helped her home from the bar. She remembered how he carefully cleaned her up and fed her toast with black tea. She thought often of him undressing her and placing her in bed that night. She had been too embarrassed by the kiss and the words of love shared between them. The next morning, she pretended to not remember.

The night she had found Steven in bed with the other woman, Claire had an opportunity to tell Arden how she felt. The two of them went back to his apartment and just the right amount of whiskey had been consumed. It gave them both the courage after a long night of talking to dance intimately in the quiet of his bedroom. He took his time because he wanted it to last. He was gentle.  He made love to Claire with intention.

Claire fit perfectly into him. She liked how Arden’s body connected to hers like the last piece in a puzzle. She gave herself to him without any hesitation or doubts.

They only left the bed after the sun had been up and the birds had stopped singing. They made coffee and eggs and like young new lovers do, they smiled and giggled the rest of the morning.

Around noon there came a sudden knock at his apartment door. It sounded intense and it broke the spell the two were still dancing in.

“Arden.” Cassie’s voice boomed. “Arden open up. We need to talk.”

“Shit.” Arden and Claire both said.

 They scrambled to get their clothes on and hide any evidence of last night’s lovemaking.

“Hey, Cassie. Come on in.” Arden opened the door and moved aside. “Look, Claire is here.”

“Hi, Cassie.” Claire awkwardly waved.

“Claire. What are you doing here?” She crinkled her nose.

Claire had been certain Cassie could smell her fear mixed with the essence of last night.

“Never mind. You are always here.” She moved farther into the apartment. “Listen, Claire, Arden and I have something to discuss. Could you please leave us alone?”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Claire stood up and started to walk towards the bedroom where she had left her purse.

“Ah, Claire, I think you left your purse on the countertop.” Arden pointed to the kitchen and she saw her purse. Arden must have moved it there in the haste.

“Oh, thanks. Okay, then. I’m heading home. No. I’m heading to the coffee shop. Just in case anyone needs me.”

“Claire. Please.” Cassie snapped.

Claire waited at the coffeeshop for hours in hopes that Arden would have taken the hint. He never showed. Claire didn’t hear from Arden for the rest of that day. When she went home Cassie had not returned; she didn’t come home that night either.

Early the next morning Cassie showed up. Her eyes were puffy and red.

“Well, it’s official. I’m getting married.” She told Claire.

“What? To who?”

“Arden you idiot, who did you think?”

***

In seventy-two hours, Arden’s world turned upside down and back again. He spent the night with the woman he truly loved. His girlfriend showed up and informed him she was pregnant and her parents were adamant that they get married. Later that same day he got a phone call from Carter Johnson. It turned out some of those important friends of his were in the music business and wanted to talk with Arden about taking the band on the road opening up for an up-and-coming band. He would need an answer as soon as possible since the summer concert season would soon be heating up. The man promised five shows throughout the mid-west with a new rock band from Canada. Arden had heard their new release on the radio. Everyone had been talking about this band as of late.

He called Claire three days later and asked her to meet him at his apartment.

“So, looks like you and Cassie are tying the knot. Is she pregnant?”

“Yes.” Arden replied.

Claire tried to play it off, but Arden wouldn’t let her.

“Look, I will figure this out. I love you, Claire.”

He told her about the offer for going on the road. Everyone had been in except for Shandra. She wanted to stay put and find a real job working in marketing.

“Of course, I want you to come too. If you want.”

“No. I don’t want.”

Claire took her broken heart and went back to her house. She avoided Cassie, which it had been easy to do. Everyone had been busy preparing for graduation and packing up to move to different parts of the country. Claire had an offer to work at a local gallery with a promise from the owner to have a showing of her paintings in the future. It wasn’t exactly her dream job but it had been a start.

Claire never answered the phone and ignored her roommates’ notes informing her Arden had called. He called her at least twice a day.

“Well. This is it.” Cassie said as she tossed her set of keys on the table.

“Where’s your new apartment again Claire?”

“I’m living in a one bedroom over my new bosses converted garage. White Hills.”

“Oh, where all the rich people live.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Claire dropped her keys next to Cassie’s. “Keep in touch.”

“Yeah, you too. Look for that wedding invitation.”

Arden and the band were scheduled for five shows. Two in Detroit, two in Chicago and one in Milwaukee. If they did well, they would sign another contract to do six more shows and finish the bands United States tour. An option had been placed on the table to take Hot Vinegar overseas for an European tour. Cassie planned to get married on the one weekend the band would have off between shows.

Claire started her new job at the gallery. Her heart hadn’t been in it. The owner, Rick Clemence, had a nice studio in the back and had told Claire she could use it anytime she wished.

“I would prefer you not to paint in the apartment.” He gave her a key to the side door.

Claire took him up on the offer to use the studio in the back. She put everything into her art. It helped to keep the thoughts of Arden at bay. She created a routine, work during the day, paint at night. She started right after work and painted well into the next morning. 

“Claire, you left quite a mess in the studio last night.” Rick said one morning.

“I did?” Claire had been confused. She had been careful to clean up when she had finished.

“I don’t like seeing a jar of brushes on the counter when I come in.”

“Oh, sorry.” Claire always left her brushes to dry. In fact, she made sure to always leave things tidy. Why he had waited two weeks to say something left her puzzled.

One day he scrutinized her outfit. “Claire, is this the most appropriate outfit for working in an art gallery of this magnitude?”

Claire had worn a long paisley skirt with a white tunic. She had felt bloated the last few days. She knew her period would start soon. The outfit had been comfortable. She thought she had looked nice in the outfit.

“You look like a dirty hippy.”

Claire bit her lip. She hated the term, dirty hippy.

The last straw had been pulled when he came into the studio late one night while she had been painting. He smelled of booze. The first three buttons on his shirt had been undone.

“Oh, hey, Mr. Clemence.” Claire said, surprised by his late visit.

“I have been out with some friends for dinner and drinks.” He swaggered over closer towards Claire.

“Oh. Where did you go?” She started to feel uneasy.

“Pistachio’s. Ever been?” He stepped closer.

Claire took a step around the large table to give some space between them.

“Um, yes. One of my roommates worked there. I would sometimes go in and eat at the bar.”

“What would you eat? Fish?”

“Um, yes that’s kind of what their known for. Right?”

“Do you like fish, Claire?” He stretched her name out as he lowered his voice.

“Yes.”

“I love fish Claire.” He said as he suddenly moved around the table and before Claire knew what had happened, he had her in his clutch.

“MR. CLEMENCE?”

“Call me Rick.” He pulled her in tight.

“Get your fucking hands off of me.” Claire yelled.

“Don’t fight this Claire, after all, I gave you a job. If you give me what I want, I will make sure you get that showing you so desperately need.”

Claire tried to wiggle out from under his arms. He held her tighter.

“Let go of me, now.” She hissed.

“Not until you give me what I want.”

Claire felt the rise in her stomach. Her legs wobbled and before she knew it her mouth dropped open and she vomited all down the front of both of them.

“You little bitch! Look what you did.” He released his grasp on Claire and pushed her back.

Claire dropped to the floor crying. Her mouth had a sour taste which matched the smell of her clothes. She soaked herself completely. She started crying and the tears blocked her view.

“What am I going to tell my wife?”

“That you are a complete fuck.” Claire quickly pulled herself together.

“You little bitch. You are fired.”

“No, Mr. Clemence, I quit.”

“You have twenty-four hours to pack your shit and get out of my apartment.”

“I won’t need that long.” Claire thought for a moment. “You had better make sure I get my final check before noon tomorrow and you better plan on putting a little extra in there if you don’t want your wife to know about this.”

Claire didn’t bother cleaning herself up. She grabbed her art supplies from the studio and tossed them in the back of her car. She made it back to her apartment only to find the lights on and the door unlocked. She slowly crept to the door and looked in. She only entered when she thought it safe. If only she could call Arden, she thought.

It took her less than an hour to pack up her belongings. She grabbed the last duffle bag and dropped it by the door. She saw the envelope on the floor just inside the threshold. She snatched it up and ripped it open. There had been a check for well over what had been owed her.

Claire spent the night on Shandra’s couch. Shandra had a small one-bedroom apartment she shared with her sister, Tonya. They occupied the second floor of an old Victorian not far from the capitol in Lansing.

Claire had joined her friends after a hot shower.

“You don’t look so good.” Tonya said. “Let me get you some tea. Unless you would prefer something stronger.”

“Get the wine.” Shandra told her sister as she headed into the tiny kitchen.

The tiny living room had been filled with many plants and soft lighting. A pull-out couch and two vintage armchairs huddled around a small glass coffee table. Claire finally felt safe, safe enough to cry it all out from the night with Arden up till her attack at the gallery.

***

“Good morning,” the doctor looked at the chart in her hand. “Claire. I’m Doctor Larson. Tell me what brings you in today.”

Claire had been sick for the last two weeks. Throwing up at odd times of the day. Tender breast and a feeling of overall malice. Not to mention, she had wanted to do nothing but sleep. She had a hard time lifting her body up from Shandra’s pull-out couch.

“I think I might be suffering from slight depression.”

The doctor smiled. “I think, you might be pregnant.”

***

Claire found part time work first waiting tables. When she had been four months pregnant and started to show they had let her go. She had been fine with that. It took its toll on her being on her feet all day. She found a substituting position at Okemos High School. The irony had not been lost on her; the art teacher had been out on maternity leave.

Two weeks into her new job at the school, Claire had been in Meijer refilling her prescription for prenatal vitamins when she bumped into Cassie.

“Oh my god, Claire. Are you pregnant?”

“Yes.” She noticed that Cassie wasn’t.

“What the hell? I thought you and Steven broke it off?”

“We did.”

“Oh. Well you are not alone. Arden and I are no longer an item.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I wanted to surprise him. They had a show in Denver. I flew in and went to his hotel room. Only, he wasn’t alone.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

“Oh, Cassie. I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway. Two days after, I miscarried. I guess it had been a sign. We had the wedding annulled.”

“Where is he now?”

“Why would it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t. I mean, I just haven’t heard from him.”

“Well, last I knew they were on tour in Europe.”

The position at the school had been temporary; Claire knew that. She had been sleeping on a pull-out couch for over six months. A tough decision had been made. She packed up her car. She cried as she hugged Shandra and Tonya good-bye.

She climbed into her overstuffed Camry. In a few short minutes she would be on Interstate 69 snaking her way to Chicago. She would not be seeing museums. She would drive until she connected with Interstate 94 heading into Wisconsin. Winding her way north towards a Holiday Inn just off the road in Brookfield. Early the next day, she picked up Interstate 90 just outside of Madison. Back on 94 in Tomah, Wisconsin, she drove on farther west into Fargo, North Dakota. From there, the longest stretch of her drive. Four hours of driving until she reached Trentsville, back to where it all began.

***

Claire’s dad had been waiting for her at the front door when she pulled her car into the drive. As Claire climb out of her car her dad came out to great her. While embraced in a hug a car pulled into the farm yard, then another. Within forty-five minutes nearly every member of the Andersen family, which made up for a third of the community had come and enveloped Claire and her unborn child. Hot dishes of tuna casserole, lasagna, chicken potato, and even Mrs. Trelstad’s local favorite lobscouse had a spot on the counter. There were green salads, fruit salads and what good North Dakotan wouldn’t bring Jell-O salad? There had been three of those. Someone had baked a pie; another had brought sweet bars with chocolate chips and crunchy coconut topping. A sheet cake with browned butter frosting came in the loving arms of Mrs. Olmstead.

“I didn’t put nuts on top sweetie, couldn’t remember if you had a nut allergy.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Olmstead. Are you still working at the library?”

“Oh lord, they’ll have to carry me out of there Claire.” She laughed.

After all the hellos, the how are you doings and catching up, everyone gathered around the large farm table, the dining room table and any empty chair or couch they could find. The food had been hot. Every swallow filled Claire with a familiarity of something she thought she had lost. A twinge of guilt overcame her because she hadn’t been back in all those years. She hadn’t planned on coming back under these terms either.

“Claire, do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” Her very old and frail Great Aunt Evelyn had asked.

Claire leaned in. “If you promise not to tell?”

“Oh, your secret is safe with me dear.”

“It’s a girl.” Claire whispered.

“Oh, how lovely for you Claire. I could tell by the way you carried.” She gently reached out and rubbed Claire’s very pregnant belly. “You will make a wonderful mother. You come from a long line of good Norwegian stock.”

Claire felt the tears start to run down her face.

“Oh look, Claire is crying.” Said her Uncle Scott. “She must be having a boy!”

The house erupted with a loud cheer.

A frigid morning in early February, Claire gave birth to Bevin Elizabeth Andersen. She had been a perfect little bundle, all eight pounds and twelve ounces.

***

“Why didn’t you come looking for me?” Arden asked Claire.

“Do you still like your pasta on the spicy side?” Claire had started a late dinner for the two of them.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant until you were on the road. I knew Cassie was pregnant with your child and you guys were married by then.”

“I would have figured it out. I told you that.”

“You did. When I ran into Cassie months later, she told me what had happened between the two of you. I didn’t want to be involved with any of that.”

“Any of what?”

“You know, a guy who is living the rock-and-roller life style.” Claire said sheepishly.

“That’s not fair.”

“Really? Because I saw all the tabloid pictures in the supermarket checkout isle.” Claire stirred the sauce without turning to look at Arden.

She continued. “Weren’t you married to a supermodel or something like that?”

“Oh, that. Well, she left me as soon as the band broke up and the money stopped.”

“Yes, had it been all the drinking and drugs that broke up the band?”

“Claire. Why are you bringing this all up? Are you trying to punish me? I am sorry for what happened all those years ago. My god, if I had known you were carrying my child, I would have left the road and found a job and taken care of the two of you.”

Claire turned around. “I don’t want to create a fight, Arden. I am certainly not trying to punish you. I have carried this with me too. I was a single mother living in a town that is more than conservative. I endured the stares and gossip. I have done a good enough job punishing myself. I won’t do that to you too. I am just telling you the truth.”

Arden stood up from the kitchen table. He walked over to Claire at the stove. “Give me a taste of your world-famous pasta sauce.” He opened his mouth like a baby bird.

Claire puts a spoonful of red sauce between his lips. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

“It needs more red pepper flakes.”

Claire had been relieved when he had stopped pursuing the past. She only wanted to focus on the here and now with Arden.

They ate dinner as Claire told him about her job as the Director of Arts Department at the Trentsville School District.

“I actually gave myself that title.” She laughed.

She told Arden how she started out substituting at her dad’s school. When the art teacher had retired at the end of her second year, Claire had applied for the position.

“There were a few staunch and prudish school board members along with a few members in the community who made a stink about a single mother teaching in the schools. But as it turned out, I had more people than not on my side.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I started out just teaching art. Three years into the job the music director had left to take a job in the Bismarck School District.”

Claire explained how after six months the school couldn’t find a replacement so she had agreed to take on that role as well.

“It’s really hard to find teachers who want to live this rural and especially at this pay.”

“Why did you stay?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly.”

“For my mother.” Claire said.

Over the years Claire had been met with resistance from a handful of the towns people. Her small community had its fair share of hard-core conservatives. That didn’t bother her until they made it their business to get into her business.

“We don’t like your kind here.” Mr. Bjerke had said one day after running into Claire.

Claire had been at the hardware store getting supplies for the spring art festival.

“Oh, what kind is that, Mr. Bjerke?”

“Your kind. Unwed mothers. You should be ashamed of the stain you brought on your family.”

“But, Mr. Bjerke, my family has plenty of stain remover. We all,” she put an emphasis on all, “need a little stain remover once in a while. No?”

Claire needed a new car shortly after Bevin’s birth. Claire wanted something with four-wheel drive and a vehicle sturdy enough to keep them safe if ever they were in an accident. The loan officer, Mrs. Olsen, kept finding one excuse after another why Claire wouldn’t qualify for a loan. It had been only after her dad went with her and with much persuading Mrs. Olsen agreed if Claire’s dad co-signed the loan.

“We just need to make sure that if we give out a loan it’s to someone who has the means, if you know what I mean, to pay it back.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Claire’s dad had said.

“Well, you know. She is, after all, a single mother. Who’s to say.”

“Who’s to say what?” He asked.

“Well, she might just take that new vehicle and up and leave one day and we would never see her again. Nor our money.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you Mrs. Olsen.”

“Now Mr. Andersen.”

Andrew Andersen stood up, “Now you listen here, Ruth.  My daughter teaches in the same school you and I attended as kids. She teaches your grandchildren. She is a good kid who just happens to be a single mother. She works hard and contributes to this community more than most. Need I remind you we all have ghost in our closets?”

This had been a clear reference to Mrs. Olsen’s husband and his much publicized affair with a much younger secretary who abruptly left and moved to Minneapolis. Speculations started spreading immediately that the young woman had been pregnant.

“We all know how rumors can spread, Andrew.” She said tartly.

“Exactly my point.” Andrew Andersen held out his hand. “Now where is the pen and where do I sign?”

Claire may have been little when her mother died. That didn’t mean she had no awareness of what had been going on around her. She could see how her mother struggled to fit in. She would hear the other moms clicking their tongues at gatherings. Expressing their opinions. “A woman like that doesn’t belong here. With all her modern ideas and all.”

There were plenty of people who made it their mission to pick apart everything about Betty Andersen. Everything from her clothing to the food she brought for Sunday potluck after services.

Claire could still remember coming home from school only to find her mother laying in the dark living room. Curtains drawn; Claire could still see her mother’s tear-streaked face.

“Claire, can I ask you something?” Arden said before he took a sip of wine.

“Sure.”

“Do you think your mother. I mean her accident.” He stumbled for the right words.

Claire placed her fork full of pasta down and quietly looked at Arden across the table. “Do I think my mother drove off the road on purpose?”

“Sorry, I had to ask.”

“Don’t apologize. I think about it often. I don’t know what really happened. I do know that there were people in this town who treated her horribly. Did they push her to it? Only God and my mom know that one. I stay here for her. I want to finish what she had started.” Claire started to cry. “I work every day to put a small piece of her here.”

Arden took her hand. “What can I do to help.”

“Well, funny you should ask.”

Every year since Claire self-titled herself, Director of the Arts Department, she has held an art festival showcasing the students’ talents. The first week after school lets out for the summer the entire gymnasium is turned into a gallery with art exhibits ranging from paintings with oils, acrylics, and even tempera for the littles in kindergarten and first grade. Sculpting with many assorted mediums from clay to upcycled items deemed for the garbage. This year she had an impressive mixed-media exhibition.

The school band would play twice a day while local towns people sauntered through looking for the artwork of a loved one. The choir would join the band for the afternoon music and sang songs from famous Broadway plays of the past.

The end of the week closed with a small play done by the high school drama club on Friday and the event headliner had been the open talent show Saturday night. Students were encouraged to go up on stage and perform a variety of entertainment. There were singers belting out the latest hip-hop song to the dismay of the majority of the older generation. Girls would get up and perform dance routines while the young teenaged boys watched in awe. The children who came from more conservative families recited poetry or lines from the classics. Tickets were sold, homemade baked goods and crafts were silently auctioned and all proceeds went directly into the art department.

“Last year we made enough to buy new lighting for the stage. I am hoping this year for enough money for a new sound system.”

“Arden, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why are you here.”

“Claire, I am really tired. What do you say we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Sure. Of course.” She got up and started to clear the table.

Claire laid a note on the kitchen counter when she left for work the next day telling Arden to make himself at home. If he were to leave, there had been no point locking the door and where he might go in town if he needed various items. She said she would be back around four.

Halfway through her day, her dad showed up at her classroom door.

“You have a minute, sweetie.”

“For you dad? I have twenty minutes. That’s when choir starts.”

“You know good and well how small-town talk goes.”

“Oh, let me guess. People are talking about the strange car parked in my drive all night.”

“You are an adult Claire.” Her dad laughed. “I’m not one to judge. Just curious. You deserve to date and find someone who makes you happy. If that is what you want.”

“Dad, you are blushing.” Claire poked. “It’s actually a long-lost friend from college. He looked me up and just wanted to stop by for a visit.” Claire didn’t want to go into too many details until she knew more about Arden’s visit.

“Enough said.” He smiled. “Hey, how long is your friend here for?”

“Not sure. Why”

“Well Uncle Erik called this morning. We need someone to go to the cabin and check things out. There had been a storm two nights ago up there and one of the neighbors called about a tree down on the property. Your uncle has to head out of town and can’t do it.”

“Yeah, I guess I could check with Arden.” She bit her lip.

“Arden? Not the Arden? Bevin’s father?”

“Yes, dad, that Arden.” Claire said. “I really can’t talk about that or him right now.”

“Is everything okay? He isn’t here to hurt you or anything like that?”

“No dad. Everything is fine. You worry too much.”

“I love you too much.”

“Yes, you do.” Claire smiled. “I’ll tell you what. The two of us can head up there tomorrow after school. We can make it a weekend of it.”

“When you say, the two of us, do you mean?”

“I mean Arden and I. Now go back to your office. I need to get ready for a bunch of over energized sixth graders.”

Claire had been relieved to see Arden’s car still in the drive. Three of her neighbors just happened to be convening on their front porch.

“Hi Claire! How are you today?”

“I’m fine Mrs. Bjerke. You?”

“Oh, I am well dear.” Mrs. Bjerke waited for a reply from Claire.

Claire whispered under her breath, “Snoopy bitch.” She walked into the house without another word to her neighbors. Keep them guessing, she thought.

Inside, she found Arden had fallen asleep on the couch. A book laid open across his chest. He looked so peaceful. Instantly, Claire’s heart dropped. She quickly went over to him and sat down on the floor. She leaned in close to listen for his breathing.

“I’m not dead.”

“Oh, I just. I just.” Claire hadn’t been sure what to say.

“I get tired often. That’s to be expected.”

“What else is to be expected?” Claire had asked.

Arden sat up and told her the simple truth. He had less than a year to live. He could die quietly in the night or it might drag out with him hooked up to wires in a hospital bed.

“Gee, don’t beat around the bush, Arden.”

He told her he still had more good days than bad. As of late his energy lasted only until mid-day and if he took a nap, he could make it to nine or ten at night.

His doctor had prescribed medicine for the pain and the effects of having a brain tumor.

“Like what kind of effects?” Claire asked.

“I get vertigo sometimes. Nausea from the vertigo and sometimes my vision is blurry.”

“They have pills for that?”

Arden laughed. “Technically I’m not supposed to be driving.”

“Arden. You drove here from where was it again?”

“L.A.”

“Oh my god. You could have been in an accident. You could have killed yourself or someone else.”

“But I didn’t.”

“No, I guess you didn’t. I am glad you are here.” Claire pulled down the blanket from the back of the couch and covered him up. “I don’t want you to leave. Stay here until…” Claire couldn’t bring herself to finish.

“Claire, I don’t want to leave. I know I am asking a lot but…” Now Arden had lost his voice.

“I’m going to start dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

The next day after school, Claire packed up the car with the needed supplies for a weekend at the cabin. Plenty of food, wine, beer, sleeping bags, assorted power tools that her dad had given her that day at school and a duffle bag of warm clothes. Just as she had been ready to leave the house, her phone rang.

“Mom, why didn’t you call me the last two nights?”

In all the excitement of Arden’s arrival, Claire had forgotten about Bevin. They talked every night on the phone.

“Oh, sweetie, I am so sorry.”

“Could this have anything to do with the man who is staying with you?”

“How did you hear about that?”

“Mom, Facebook. You should try it some time.”

“This is exactly why I don’t do any of that social media.” Claire said. “Is it really on there?”

“Mom, there are even photos.”

“Are you serious? I knew this town had a gossip problem, but that is just plain weird.”

“Just kidding mom. No pictures, but do tell, what’s going on over there?”

“Listen Kiddo, I am actually heading out right now to the cabin for the weekend. Can we talk when I get back?”

“Sure. Have a great time with your mystery man. And mom?”

“Yes, Bevin.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

***

Claire and Arden made the trip to the cabin in just over an hour and a half. The cabin sat on the shores of Lake Metigoshe, in the Turtle Mountains State Forest. It had been in the Andersen family for generations. Before there had been a cabin, family members would come and camp in walled tents. Everyone in the family enjoyed it and worked together to plan visits and every five years a family reunion for all those who could make it. The family also worked together in upkeep.

“So, these are the Turtle Mountains?”

“Don’t let your sarcasm drip on my nice leather seats, Arden.”

The Turtle Mountains are located at the far northern region of North Dakota and the lower province of Manitoba, Canada. It’s a plateau approximately two-thousand feet above sea level. A lush landscape of rolling hills, forest and lakes.

“Bevin works and lives not far from here. She splits her time between the two-year college teaching forestry and working at the state park.”

“Is she a park ranger?”

“Nope, she works at the college outpost during the school year. She will bring a group of kids up here for some hands-on learning for about two days at a time. Research, that kind of thing. She has a small house on the south end of the lake.”

“Do you think we will see her?”

“Well, that’s one of the things I would like to talk about with you.”

After they were settled in the cabin, Claire suggested they walk around the ten-acre property to assess the damage. Luckily, it had been light, just branches than had blown off in the storm. They were able to pile them up next to the fire ring near the lakeshore.

Claire made sure Arden didn’t over tax himself. She had packed a thermos of coffee and some cookies in her day-pack. They would stop often so Arden could rest. When they got back into the cabin, Claire put a casserole she had brought from her freezer back home into the oven.

“Ok, now let’s have a sauna. It will do us both some good.”

Claire grabbed some towels and matches. “Follow me.”

They walked down to the beach area, about one-hundred feet downhill from the cabin. At the bottom of the hill stood what looked like a barrel on its side with a front door and tiny windows.

“What is this?” Arden laughed.

“Come on, you’ll see.” Claire said as she unlocked and opened the door.

Inside the sauna the walls were all wood. In the middle of the far back wall stood a small wood stove, large rocks were in a metal and wooden box on top of the stove. Next to the stove had been a small table with a large pitcher and ladle. Under the table stood a box of small cut wood.

“Here, take this out and fill it at the spicket on the other side of the door.” Claire handed Arden the pitcher.

Arden came back in and Claire had started the fire. “It won’t take long to heat up.” She started to disrobed.

Arden watched her as she stripped down to her bra and underwear. “Well, are you just going to watch me? It’s going to get pretty hot in here. You might want to take some of those off.” She said pointing towards him.

She hung her clothes on a hook on the wall. She had wrapped a large towel around her body and from under the towel she took off her intimates. She hung them up as well.

“Okay, turn the other way.” Arden informed her. “And no peeking.”

“Why Arden, such modesty.”

“Look, this fifty-five-year-old body doesn’t look like it once did.”

“Are you serious? You look great for fifty-five.”

It was true. Arden still looked good after all those years. Sure, he may have had a bit of a grey hair, maybe a bit around the waist, but Claire got a spark of life in her watching him undress.

“Hey, I said no looking.” Arden flicked his fingers in a circle.

Claire turned her head. Directly behind her hung a small mirror. She had forgotten about that. She watched as he finished undressing.

“Not bad, Shelby”

“What the hell.”

“What, like I’ve not seen that before.” Claire laughed.

Arden blushed and quickly wrapped a towel around his waist.

After about twenty minutes the heat had risen. Claire poured some water over the rocks. Steam hissed and floated up towards the ceiling. They sat there making small talk and enjoying the heat.

“Claire, I think I might need to cool off.”

“Sure, we can do it the old-fashioned way and jump into the lake.”

“Or wade in.” Arden said faintly.

“Arden? Are you okay?”

They both stood up and just as the cool evening air greeted them at the threshold Arden started to fall. Claire, in her small frame, could only soften the impact as she grabbed on to him. They both went down to the dirt in an awkward slow motion.

“Oh my god. Arden. Can you hear me?”

Claire could not rouse him, nor could she lift him and carry him up a hill back to the cabin. Just then she heard Bevin calling her name. Claire yelled back.

Together, the two women were able to somehow get Arden back up to the cabin. They laid him on the bed and did what they could to clean off the bits of dirt and gravel.

“So, this is my dad, huh?” Bevin said looking down at Arden under the blankets still passed out. “Not sure this is the best way to meet him.”

Claire spilled the beans to Bevin while they were getting him back to the cabin. Bevin had always known the truth about her dad. Claire had been very honest with her right from the very beginning. She would give her the information her age would allow.

Bevin never felt the urge to seek out Arden. It wasn’t for the fact that she held any ill-will towards him. Bevin never missed for a male figure in her life either. She had her grandfather and plenty of uncles for that. As an adult, she could follow Arden’s going’s on with social media. Quite frankly, she didn’t like exactly what she saw. The womanizing and party lifestyle wasn’t something she wanted to be privy to.

“Do you think we should take him to a doctor?” asked Bevin

“I don’t know. Maybe give him a bit longer?”

Arden woke to find Claire and another younger woman looking over him. He took a minute to adjust to his surroundings.

“Hey, look who’s awake?”

“What happened?” Arden asked with a raspy voice.

“You passed out when we got out of the sauna. Maybe you overheated.”

“Yeah, I remember that now. I mean, I remember feeling light headed.”

Arden sat up in the bed. “Who is this?” But Arden already knew the answer. She looked exactly like Claire did when they knew each other back in college.

“Arden, this is Bevin.”

 “Bevin just happened,” using air quotes over her head, “to be driving by.”

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in any danger up here all alone at the cabin with some strange man.”

“I told you earlier on the phone I would be home late Sunday and that we would talk then.”

“Well, now we don’t have too.” Bevin turned to Arden. “Nice to meet you, dad.”

“Why don’t we let Arden rest and check on the casserole.”

The two women left Arden to rest and went out to the kitchen.

“Well, I think someone needs to think about getting home?”

“Mom, are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Bevin, I have had a hectic evening. Not to mention Arden showing up on my doorstep two days ago. I have a lot to process.”

“I would like to maybe get to know Arden, dad, what should I call him?”

“You can call me hungry.”

Arden stood in the kitchen doorway. “I smell something delicious and I think I could eat a horse.”

“What are you doing out of bed? I was going to bring you a tray.”

Claire rushed over to Arden and wrapped her hands around him. She carefully walked him over to a chair at the kitchen table. “Let me find you a sweater.”

“I’m totally milking this. Don’t tell your mom.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

The two of them sat there just looking at each other. The only sound had been Claire as she rummaged through a closet in the bedroom.

“Well, Bevin. Did your mother tell you about your namesake?”

“Yes, I am named after your mother.”

Another round of awkward silence filled the space between them.

“She told me your mom was very beautiful and that you loved her very much. I also know you have a sister who works for an NGO. I believe working with underprivileged children?”

“Wow, your mom told you a lot.”

“Actually, I looked up your sister. I read her portfolio on LinkedIn. She seems pretty cool.”

“Yeah, my kid sister is pretty cool.”

“Do you think she chose her profession because of your dad?”

“Oh, you know about that too?” Arden shifted in his chair.

“Mom and I have no secrets. She has always been honest with me. About you.”

“Yeah, about me.” Arden sighed “I know this won’t mean much coming from me.”

“Try me.” Bevin had cut him off.

“I know this won’t mean much, but if I had known about your mom being pregnant, I would have been on the first plane back to her.”

“So, about that. You told my mom you loved her. You also told her you would find a way to make it work. Right?” Bevin pushed.

“I did.” Arden replied silently.

“Well, if you really loved my mom, why did you wait nearly thirty years to come and find her?”

Claire stood silently in the evening shadows, listening. Claire had asked herself that very same question a thousand times over the years.

Arden had been caught off-guard. He sat there thinking of what to say. “I honestly don’t know why.”

“Could it have been your big rocker lifestyle? I googled you too.”

Arden let out a small laugh. “I hate all this technology shit. Nothing is secret anymore.”

“You have been with a lot of beautiful women.”

“Yes.” Arden decided he should just sit there and take whatever this young woman, his daughter had to say. After all, everything she had said had been true.

“Was my mom not pretty enough for you? Maybe she wasn’t good enough for a famous guy like you.”

“I wouldn’t call him that famous.” Claire said as she came into the kitchen. “Sit up.” She motioned to Arden and helped him put on the sweater.

“Thanks for that.” Arden said.

“For what? The sweater?” Claire asked.

“Keeping it real.” Arden smiled.

“How about we eat. Perhaps we can finish this discussion later? Arden? Bevin?”

“Nope. I think we should hash it out, over supper. Like a normal family.” Bevin said.

“Ah, Bevin.” Claire sighed.

“She is right. Life is short.”

***

The next morning Claire woke up just as the morning sun had begun to rise over the hills and peek through the trees. She crept into the kitchen to start some coffee. Bevin had slept with Claire in the second bedroom.

The three of them had stayed up well past midnight talking. There were tears, followed by laughter. Many tears fell when Arden told his daughter that their time together would be short. All three of them had agreed to put the past behind them. They wanted to make the most of their time left.

Arden felt he had found peace. He had been ready to die.

“Morning mom.” Bevin came up from behind Claire, wrapped her arms around her and gave her mom a kiss on the cheek.

“I thought you would sleep in a bit longer.”

“No, I need to get going soon. I have a bunch of finals to look over.”

“Oh, are you sure you can’t stay for breakfast?”

“Can I get a thermos of coffee and a raincheck?”

“Of course.”

“Tell Arden I will see him soon, okay?”

“I think he will like that.” Claire filled a thermos. “Sweetie, how are you feeling with all of this?”

“I’m fine mom.” She sighed. “I mean, I still don’t like the fact that he never came to find you all those years ago. But it’s neither here nor there at this point. Besides, I can see why you loved him all those years ago.”

“Easy on the time line.” Claire laughed.

“What I mean is this. He seems like a good guy, salt-of-the-earth as we like to say. Not quite the guy you read about in the tabloids.”

“No, he was never like that when I knew him.”

“Then maybe something just happened; maybe he snapped? But whatever it was, I feel really sad that he missed out on you. Us. He is dying and that breaks my heart mom.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Claire hugged her daughter. “It breaks mine too.”

Claire watched as her daughter made her way down the drive. When her car was no longer in sight, she started doing the dishes from the night before. Hot tears continuously washed over her face.

Arden came out of the bedroom around lunch time. He had been up for over an hour. He had laid in bed, heavy with thoughts of last night. Heavier thoughts about today, thoughts of tomorrow.

“Good-morning sleepy head. Are you hungry?”

“Claire, I think I should probably head out. Head home.”

“Really?” Claire placed her hands on her hips. “And where might that be? Your sister’s place? Some hotel room? Because you told me yourself that’s where you have been living for the last eight months.”

It had been true. Arden still had a house in Italy. Years ago, he bought an old villa outside of Rimini. It had been a fixer-upper and it came with grape vines, an old stand of olive trees, numerous chickens and one very large, angry sow. He gave the animals to one of the locals and whenever he had a chance between tours and studio sessions, he would work at bringing the old farm back to life. Arden’s last visit had been shortly after his diagnosis. He told his part time caretaker not to expect him back.

Arden paid a short visit to his sister, who now lived in the Netherlands with her young family. He told her about the cancer. He made sure to tell her how much he loved her. He had been so proud at her determination to rise above all that had happened to them as children. He marveled at the woman and mother she had become. He almost missed his flight back to the states because they both knew that the hug, they had found themselves embraced in at the airport, would be their last. Neither wanted to let go.

“I love you sis.” The tears soaked his shirt as he let her gently go.

Arden flew back to the states to get the rest of his affairs in order. He talked with his lawyer making sure his sister would get half of his estate. There had been a clause, if he couldn’t find Claire the remaining half would go to his sister as well.

When everything had been in order, he started looking for Claire. It didn’t take very long. Even though Hot Vinegar had broken up years before he had still kept in touch with the band members. Kurt eventually married Shandra who still kept in touch with Claire periodically. Shandra wouldn’t tell Arden where to find Claire, she held a grudge. Kurt texted Claire’s address only after Arden had promised not to tell anyone how he had acquired it.

“Claire, I don’t want to be a burden. I had no right coming back here and stirring all of this up.”

“Whether or not, you did. And I have to ask why. Why did you come looking for me after all these years?”

“Claire, I love you. I have never stopped.”

“Then why did you leave and not come back?”

“I don’t know that I will ever be able to answer that question. Perhaps it had been fear of letting you down like I let Cassie down. Our friendship meant everything to me, Claire. Maybe I rationalized that it would be better to just leave instead of wreck our friendship.”

“That makes no sense.” Claire said.

“Claire, I had finally gotten the big music deal and the rush of all that came with it had been so overwhelming and I’m not trying to make excuses. I just got so caught up in it.”

“Pretty lame, if you ask me.”

“Claire, it’s like being in a washing machine on constant spin cycle and someone opened up the lid and you fly right out the top. I was out of control.”

Claire stood there thinking about it. “You could have at least tried calling.”

“I did, once. I knew you had been staying at Shandra’s apartment. I had heard about your run in with your old boss at the gallery from Kurt. I called Shandra’s apartment and Shandra told me to basically to go fuck myself. I had no idea you were pregnant.”

“If you did?”

“Claire, as god as my witness, I would have been on the next flight back to you.”

“Claire, another reason I came here to find you.” He looked down at his feet. “Claire, I am so alone and very scared of dying. Dying alone.”

At that, they both started to cry. Claire went to Arden. He held her as he cried hard for the first time since finding out about his cancer. He looked into her eyes, those bright blue eyes that still melted his heart. His hands slid around her waist. He slowly started to raise her t-shirt ready for her to stop him. Instead, she lifted her arms and let him pull it up and over her head. She reached for his shirt, without saying anything he took it off and let it fall on the floor next to Claire’s shirt.

Arden took Claire’s hand and led her back to his bedroom.

***

The sun had started its descent back down behind the trees before Claire and Arden came out from the bedroom. Claire walked over and started turning on lamps. Arden worked on starting a fire in the fireplace.

“Still gets chilly up here this time of year. One May, not too long ago, we had six inches of snow. Half the Andersen family came up for a weekend of skiing.”

“I bet it’s nice in the summer.” Said Arden.

“Hmm, it sure is.” Claire walked into the kitchen. “Why don’t you rest on the couch by the fire and I’ll start dinner.”

“I’ll help.” Arden said eagerly.

“No, I want you to rest. You gave me a good scare yesterday.”

“Claire, I just had a long rest with you, remember?”

“I wouldn’t call that a rest, Arden.”

“Claire, I’m dying, but not today. I want to have all the experiences with you that time will allow.”

Arden came into the kitchen and found an apron. “Now move over, this kitchen is big enough for the both of us.”

They both were up early Sunday morning. After a quick breakfast the two of them went out and piled up the rest of the branches next to the firepit.

“This will make a nice bonfire this summer.”

“I hope I’m around to see it.”

Claire’s stomach turned. “You will.” She smiled. “You will.”

The drive back to Claire’s house had been silent. Arden had a migraine and took some pills to help with the pain. In minutes he had fallen asleep. It gave Claire the time to think about what to do with her family. It wouldn’t take long before everyone found out.

Once she reached town, Claire pulled into the grocery store to grab a few things for the week ahead, now that she would be cooking for two, maybe three, if Bevin stopped over. Arden stirred.

“Hey sleeping beauty.”

“I wouldn’t say beauty, but if you insist.” Arden looked around. “Where are we?”

“I wanted to stop and grab a few things for the week. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with.”

“No.” Claire said too quickly.

“What? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? After all Claire, I am the father of your child.”

“Smart ass.” She mussed his hair. “It’s a small-town kind of thing.”

“Really? Tell me again how old you are?”

“Just wait here.”

“Okay, but you can’t hide me forever, people will talk.”

“Tell me about it.” She slammed the car door.

Claire turned her shopping cart down isle four, cereal and crackers, when she heard a man’s voice.

“Hi, Ms. Andersen.”

It had been Jason Strom. She had him all four years in high school for both drama and choir. No big secret, Jason was gay. Jason tried to make it in Chicago, but even all of his talents, and he had great talent, were not enough for the big city. He came back crushed. He also came back out and proud, unfortunately, his hometown had not been so welcoming at his homecoming. He had found a part time job at the Historical Society’s Museum and her dad always called on him first for a substitute teacher. Of course, there were the parents who tried to pull rank with school board members to stop him from calling Jason. Her dad would have nothing of it now that he was superintendent.

“Oh, Jason, you scared me.”

“Oh, sorry Ms. Andersen.”

“Jason, I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Claire, you’re practically a colleague now.”

“Um, nope. Not going to happen. So anyway, who is that good looking man sitting in your car?”

“And here we go.” Claire grunted. “Just a friend I knew back in the day.”

“Yeah, well Mrs. Vieth, she said his car has been parked at your house all weekend and your lights have been off the entire time.”

“Well, she would know. She spies on me all the time.”

“I know, right?”

“What else did Mrs. Vieth say?”

“Well, she told my mom this morning she bets it’s one of those online dating aps and he has done something to you so he can steal all your money.”

“Oh, did she.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Who is he?”

“Are you coming tomorrow to help with play practice? We only have three weeks left.”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“I did. He is just someone I know from college.”

It didn’t take long for news to travel. Less than an hour back in her house the phone rang, it had been Bevin.

“Mom, you should hear the gossip going around town about you and Arden.”

***

Claire drove to school Monday morning knowing she would face a barrage of questions from students and faculty. Small town living had its perks because if you were in need of anything your community would make it happen. The down side to living in a small town, everyone knew your business. Stated more accurately, everyone had their own version of your business.

The whispering started the minute she walked in the door. A group of teenagers smiled, huddled and the “psh-psh-psh” of their secret conversation commenced. Claire decided to go directly to her classroom. There would be no need to stop off at the teacher’s lounge this Monday morning. Leave them guessing I always say, she said to herself.

Waiting for her at the door to her classroom had been one of her students from third-period Art Appreciation, a mousy ninth grader named Lucy Andersen. Claire could never remember exactly how they were related, but they were.

“Good morning, Lucy. Can I help you?”

“Good-morning Ms. Andersen. Um, I have a question for you. You see my older sister, Veronica. Like she is on tiktok and like, she, well.”

Claire interrupted her. “Lucy, you are a smart young lady. Try making a complete and intelligible sentence.”

Lucy took a deep breath, “Is that Arden Shelby at your house?”

“What? Who told you that?” Claire had been caught off guard.

“Is it true? I mean my sister follows him on insta.”

“Insta?”

“Oh, sorry. Instagram. She doesn’t actually follow him he doesn’t like have an account or anything like that. At least I don’t think he does. I mean I haven’t seen one.”

“Lucy.” Claire said firmly. “Your point?”

Lucy turned her right foot inward and started to twirl her thin brown hair. “Oh, sorry, Ms. Andersen. I just wanted to know if it really was him we saw getting out of your car last night.”

“And where were you exactly?”

“Oh, we were all in Mrs. Vieth’s house watching your house.”

“Let me get this straight, watching from Mrs. Vieth’s house? Who would this we be?”

“Um, I think I better go to my locker now. The bell will ring soon.”

“Yes, I think that might be a good idea.”

The rest of the day Claire stayed in her classroom and stewed. She loved her community but sometimes it had been too much. This had been one of those times.

Her dad came to see her after the building had cleared of students and most of the staff. He offered her solace; reminding her the majority meant no harm.

“They are just curious and this is big news to them.”

“I know dad, but I just want to keep parts of my life private.”

Laughing he said, “Oh honey, there is no such thing here.”

Claire went home to find Arden resting on the couch watching television. He looked tired and a bit pale. He had assured her he just felt tired and he had taken some medicine an hour before.

Claire made some chili and corn bread for supper. Arden felt well enough to join her at the table. Over their meal she had told him about her day, including her conversation with Lucy Andersen. His advice had been to just come clean; tell anyone who asked the truth. He had nothing to hide and he didn’t want Claire upset trying to keep him secret. “Unless you are embarrassed by me or something?”

“God, no. I’m just trying to keep things quiet for you.”

“I don’t need protecting, Claire.”

“I’m not trying to protect you, Arden.”

“Are you trying to protect yourself?”

“What? No. I mean maybe?” She sat there for a moment, thinking.

“Arden, I just want to keep you safe, that’s all.”

“You are doing a great job.”

“I love you, Arden. I just want our time together to be just ours. I don’t know how long we will have together and I want to be stingy with what time we do have. The three of us, you, Bevin and me.”

He reached out for her hand. “Claire, I have been all over the world and have met some of the greatest people along the way. I have seen things I never thought I would. That entire time I had been the loneliest I had ever been in my life.”

Claire rubbed his hand.

“Claire, I would have given all of it up to live in a community like yours.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” Claire said.

“No, I mean it. All those years on the road left me hollow, empty. I just went from one show to the other and never looked back or stopping long enough to plant some roots. Hell, I have a beautiful villa in Italy that I hardly lived in.”

Arden started to cry.

“I don’t know the exact number of days I have. I do know that I want to spend them with Bevin and you and even your over inquisitive towns folk.”

“Again, be careful what you wish for.”

“Hey, I mean it. I just want something normal and stable. I need something to fill my time. Sitting around watching television is getting old.”

Claire had the perfect solution. She asked Arden if he wouldn’t mind coming to the school the next afternoon to help with the students on the music end of the performance. Arden accepted the offer.

When Arden walked into the school auditorium there had been about twenty or so students milling about eating junk food and making fun of each other. Some of the students were running around chasing each other up and down the aisles. Arden found Claire up by the stage talking with a few of the students who worked on stage production. By the time he had reached her the sudden silence made him stop and turn around to see what had happened. It had been then that he realized he was what had happened.

It didn’t take long for the students to swarm around him. They had asked for selfies and autographs. Many of the students had questions about his music, why would a rock star like him be in a town like Trentsville? Almost all of them wanted to know if he was dating their teacher, Ms. Andersen.

Claire had been quick to squelch the commotion. She had the kids who were there for music collect their instruments and show Arden to the band room. She informed the kids who were in the play to get their lines out and start work on scene two. She had promised if everyone worked hard today, Arden would play a song after practice. Arden raised his eyebrows at Claire.

That night over dinner, Claire had mentioned to Arden she had gotten more out of that day’s rehearsal from the students than she had since she had started the fundraiser ten years ago. Arden filled her in about his time spent in the band room. He felt he had missed his calling. He also told Claire how impressed he had been by the hard work of the students. He also mentioned his admiration for Claire in doing what she did, telling her that the students held her in high regard.

Claire needed to hear those words. Many days she felt like an island. She wondered often if anything she did really made a difference in the lives of her students or the people of the community. Claire often thought of her mother.

The three weeks until the art festival went quickly and were full of drama, literally. A fifth-grade student felt her solo hadn’t been long enough compared to her sister in the eighth grade. A senior student, Jenny Mills, had a meltdown when she realized she would have to kiss a sophomore, Troy Billings, as the curtain came down on the final scene.

“Like, I mean, it’s Troy Billings, Ms. Andersen.”

“Your point being?” Claire had asked.

“He is not very popular like.”

“That is one of the many hidden beauties of art. Art doesn’t care if you are popular.”

“I get that, but the entire school will see me kiss him. It might ruin my reputation. If you know what I mean.”

“There are things far more damaging to one’s reputation than kissing a sophomore on the stage. Trust me, this will be a tiny blip on your radar of life.”

“Um, yeah, I doubt that.”

The typical problems with lighting and soundboard were easily fixed. The printer didn’t make enough programs and three of the student’s names were left out. The grumbles from some of the people in town were loud. It didn’t take long for local news media to get wind of Arden’s presence. Which only led to even larger national networks and celebrity gossip shows coming to town. This created an uproar with most members of the community.

A town meeting had been called for all of the extra attention that had been brought on their town. Most of the towns people wanted it to end. They were tired of the extra traffic. One citizen had been upset because he couldn’t get a room for his in-laws at the only hotel because the rooms were all booked. Another citizen took it to a whole new level. Mrs. Vieth.

When it had been her turn to voice her concerns, she let it known exactly how she had felt.

“This all goes back to when that woman showed up here fifty some plus years ago.” She said into the microphone near the table where the town board had sat. “She brought with her all those fancy ideas of how a town should look like with fancy art work in the library and after school art programs for the kids.”

Mrs. Vieth looked over the crowd. “She had been pregnant and out of wedlock.”

“Okay, Mrs. Vieth, I am going to have to stop you right there.” Said Claire’s dad who had been on the town board as the representative for the school district. “That has nothing to do with why we are here.”

“It most certainly has everything to do with it.” She cried. “Her worldly ideas were not welcomed back then nor are her daughters. A town such as ours holds itself to higher standards. We don’t want a freak show in our community. Why, who knows what might be next.” She turned and looked over to where Jason Strom had been sitting.

“Mrs. Vieth,” Mr. Olmstead, the town mayor bellowed. “Your two minutes are up. Please give the microphone to the person behind you in line.”

There were a few people who spoke about the good that had come from Arden’s appearance in their small town. Mr. Miller, who owned the hotel, exclaimed how the hotel had not made this much money in years and with the extra income he would be able to finally fix the pool. Enid and her sister Pearl were glad for the extra foot traffic at the bakery and coffee shop on Main Street.

“The only downside is we haven’t got enough pastries at the end of the day to take over to the senior center, don’t ya know.” Pearl said.

“Yes, first time in twenty years.” Enid added.

“I would also like to add,” Pearl turned to the audience, “For the record, I think it’s a lovely addition to our community, all the art and stuff. Makes us seem a bit more cultured.”

The meeting ended long after Claire and Arden had left. However, before they did, Arden took a turn at the microphone. He apologized to the community for all the trouble he had created. He turned to the members of the press who were there and asked for their respect not only of the communities but his privacy as well. He explained that his intentions were simply to have a quiet place to spend the rest of his time with the people he loved. He praised Claire for all the hard work and the students who worked just as hard to make the art festival a success year after year.

“You should be so proud of Claire. I have witnessed just a small piece of what she has done and it’s pretty amazing. I may have had a shady past over the last few decades but I know if it hadn’t been for my love of the arts, things could have been so different for me. I shudder to how my life would have turned out.”

Claire sat in her seat trying to hold back her tears. How she wished to go back in time and do things over, different.

That night when they were back at the house, Arden had told Claire he wanted to donate his Fender Capistrano Guitar to the silent auction. He told her he would sign it.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Claire asked.

“I don’t think it will fetch much.”

“Yeah, not on the wages people make here.”

“It has more sentimental value than anything.” He smiled.

***

Arden did his best to hide the pain and fatigue. He could feel the cancer consuming his body more and more every day. The weakness over powered his strength; it had been a constant battle. The mornings were hard to get out of bed and he couldn’t wait to climb into it at the end of the day. Claire’s house had been two blocks from the school and he found the walk exhausting. There had been a few days where his vision blurred so severely, he rolled his ankle as he stepped off the curb to cross the street. Arden panicked the day he found himself standing out in front of the school but could not remember why he had been there. The headaches were persistent and causing nausea from the extreme pain.

Claire may have been busy with the art festival; however, she hadn’t been too busy to see the sudden change in Arden. He seemed disorientated some days. For a small framed man, the weight loss had been noticeable. His clothes hung on him. His skin looked grey and his eyes were tired. She made sure he ate and rested; she counted out his pills every morning. The cancer had taken its hold and she had felt helpless but more importantly scared. She loved having him in their lives and she wasn’t ready to lose him so soon again. She held him close every night.

Bevin came down to stay over the weekends. She would cook breakfast every Saturday morning and the three of them would cuddle on the couch under a pile of blankets eating waffles while laughing at re-runs of The Looney Tunes. Bevin asked a lot of questions about Arden’s family and past. She wanted to know all of it, including the ugly.

Every Sunday they would cook a special meal together early in the day so Bevin could get back before dark. Bevin could see the frailty of Arden. She had found a special love for him. She cried every time she got in her car. She prayed for one more weekend with her dad.

On the final night of the art festival, the night of the talent show, back stage buzzed with excitement. There were twice as many students performing than last year and Claire knew she owed it all to Arden. The show had been sold out days in advance. Mrs. Olmstead, who ran the ticket sales, made sure all of those in town were sold tickets before the press.

Mary Beth Hanson had the final performance with her flute, a mashup of the best of Elton John. When she had finished, the house lights came on. That had been Claire’s cue. She grabbed her microphone and headed out to center stage.

“Ah, hello everyone, and thank you very much for coming tonight. I am very happy to tell you, we raised just over five-thousand dollars this evening. As you know in the past, the majority of money earned this night came from the silent auction. However, I am happy to report that we actually, for the first time ever, raised more money on ticket sales. We had a sold-out performance, both nights.”

Claire stood while the audience erupted in cheer and clapped.

“Now, before we go, a few announcements.”

That had been when Jenny Mills came out from behind the curtain and walked across the stage. She motioned for Claire’s microphone. Tyler and Saylor Andersen, another distant relative of Claire’s, came stumbling out. Tyler had a metal folding chair. The crowd gasped as his tiny six-year-old frame twice tried to tumble over the chair. His twin sister Saylor had a microphone which she proudly marched out across the stage. She placed it in front of the chair and proceeded to raise it about four feet. Satisfied the two of the marched back stage.

“Ms. Andersen,” Jenny Mills began. “I’m afraid you forgot about tonight’s encore performance.” The audience started to applaud.

Claire stood there not sure what to say. She couldn’t register exactly what Jenny had been talking about. Claire thought to herself over the big checklist in her heard, what did I forget?

“Ms. Andersen, we have an encore performance, a duet.”

Claire looked at her puzzled and then into her microphone she said, “Okay, well then it looks like I forgot about our duet. Jenny, might you introduce them, please.”

Laughter, mixed with giggles, could be heard from backstage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Jenny started. “I am pleased to announce our encore performance tonight. Please welcome to the stage Arden Shelby.”

As Arden entered from stage left, Claire stood speechless. Arden walked on with his trademark black leather jacket and underneath a crisp white t-shirt. He carried his guitar in his right hand. He walked to Claire and kissed her gently on the cheek.

The crowd cheered.

Arden sat down on the chair. He adjusted his guitar then the microphone.

“Good evening.”

The crowd applauded.

“You all have great taste in fine art and every participant tonight did a fine, very fine job.”

Arden turned towards Claire. “Tonight, I have picked for you a special song. It has a history with me. But I can’t sing it alone, I need Ms. Andersen to join me.”

Everyone erupted with cheers and applause.

“Claire?” Arden motioned to her.

Uncertain, Claire walked over to Arden. He started playing his guitar. Claire recognized it instantly, Turn the Page by Bob Seger. She placed her hand on Arden’s shoulder and gasped.

Claire suddenly forgot the lyrics. She squeezed Arden’s shoulder. He picked up on her anxiety. Slowing the tempo a bit, he started softly singing, giving Claire the nudge she needed to remember.

It started out slow, and it stayed that way. Claire and Arden knew it would be the last time they would sing the song together. Both, wanted it to last. Claire started to choke a few times. She had let the hot tears stream down her face, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop them. Arden didn’t want the night to end. He felt like he did thirty years ago when the two of them sang in college. Together they finished the encore performance. The two of them looked from the stage, they could see the standing ovation from the audience as the curtain came down.

Epilogue

Twelve weeks later Claire and Bevin drove to their favorite place in the Turtle Mountains. The morning had been still new when they arrived. They hiked up a dewy trail through the mist. When they reached an opening in the trees, they stopped and walked ten feet off the trail. The view from that vantage point opened up over the canopy. Fog feathered about. The sun still had a few minutes before she would peak above the skyline.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I think dad would find it perfect.” Bevin looked down at her cradling arms. Tucked in them had been a silver urn.

Claire held a boom-box. She placed it down on a flat spot and tuned it on.

“Ready?” She asked Bevin.

Bevin nodded. She opened the urn and together mother and daughter lifted the urn and watched as the ashes gently danced with the wind. The dance spun Arden farther out over the valley below. In the background, Bob Seger’s Turn the Page echoed for Arden’s final encore.

One month later, Claire sat under a pergola in the warm Italian sun. Claire had been shocked to learn Arden left his villa to her. As she sat there thinking of Arden her phone rang.

“Hi sweetie, what’s up?”

“Hi mom, just wondering how you are doing over there?”

“I’m ok. Thanks for checking.”

“Yeah, have you been able to find a gallery or two who might be interested in your work? You know dad wanted you to try.”

It had been true. One of the last times Claire and Arden were able to carry a conversation before hospice, he had told her about the villa. He pointed out to Claire what she had already known.

“Claire, no matter what your intentions are. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t change people. It’s all they know and its comfortable to them. Look what it did to your mother. I don’t want that for you”

“But some of the people here have appreciated it.”

He told her she needed to go where more people would appreciate her fully.

“I want you to go to Italy and live your dream. I lived mine, now it’s your turn.”

Claire and Bevin talked a few more minutes. Claire told her daughter two galleries in Rimini were interested in showing her artwork. After they said their good-byes, she opened the guitar case and pulled out the Fender Capistrano that once belonged to Arden. Arden made the highest bid, “I wanted you to have it, Claire. Every time you play it sing a song and think of me.” She strummed a few notes and softly into the breeze she started to sing.