Page 159 of The Other Side of Green

“Sure. I’ll grab my violin.”

I left the bar and ran to the storeroom where I’d stashed it when I arrived. Not that I expected anyone to steal it, but there was less chance of Luca accidentally crushing it with a crate if I put it on the top shelf out back.

I came back to find Mr. Jackson tuning his.

Unexpectedly, I got hit by a splattering of nerves. “I really hope I’ve improved since the last time you heard me play.” I winced a smile.

“I’m sure you have,” he said, getting up from his stool.

“What shall we play?”

“Timeless? Do you know that?” he asked.

I nodded. Jack and I had played it back in the day at Berklee.

Mr. Jackson started while I waited for the perfect moment to drop in. Two bows perfectly matched. From the corner of my eye, I could see Luca stop to listen.

We played, slipping over the majors and the minors, chasing the notes, stretching them at the same moments.

Mr. Jackson watched me as I played, his eyes bright and then slowly lowered his violin. I carried on, although I could feel the unspoken truth between us.

I knew why he’d come.

Knew why we played the violin the same.

Knew why he’d told Grams to get me a violin all those years ago. Knew why his photo was still in the precious box I now looked in all the time, no longer scared that it meant I was separated from someone I loved.

I lowered my violin and lifted the chain that hung around my neck, holding the lyre bird fob of gold in my spare hand.

“I wanted you to have something of value to see you through.” His voice choked up.

“You’re my dad? Why didn’t anyone ever say anything?”

“Where’s your mom, Lyra?”

“She’s gone. She’s been gone for years.”

He nodded slowly.

Was there anyone in the town that my mother hadn’t fucked?

“Did you pay her too?”

His face scored with a furious frown. “No. I thought I could save her.”

Unexpected tears stung my eyes. “No one can save her.”

He sighed, the violin hanging from his fingers, the exact mirror image of how I held mine. “I think I’ll get that coffee now, if that’s okay with you?”

I walked down the path home at four, ready for a shower and a quick change before getting back. New York, it was really happening.

I also had a dad.

What a day.

“Honey, I’m home,” I called into the house. “And you won’t believe the day I’ve had.”

A tinkle of light piano notes flitted through from the sitting room. There he was, the man I adored, still wearing his work clothes with his shirt sleeves rolled up.