whatever it was. "You’re so young. You couldn’t have given it much of a chance, Jenà. You’re older now, wouldn’t it make a difference?"
She looked over at him. The breeze played havoc with his usually neatly combed hair, giving him more of a devilish look. Her heart melted a little before she turned her eyes back to the water below. "No. Please drop it." She left him again, picking up the case on her way to the stairs. She wished she had another place to go, somewhere he wouldn’t find her. For a while, anyway. If he was determined, he would search, or have his staff search for her, until she was where he wanted her.
In her suite, she locked the two doors and went into her bedroom, locking that door also. In the bathroom, turning the lock on that door as well, she sat on the vanity after pulling the guitar from its case. Picking some of the songs that had been exclusively her sister’s, tears dropped on the wooden instrument she held in her arms. For a long time she couldn’t get the words out of her throat, a lump seemed to keep them there.
Her heart felt like it would burst until she started singing the words to the songs, filling the small room with them. As she got through the first two lines, her tears stopped and her thoughts went back to when she used to sit at home with her sister and harmonize with her. She could still hear Darlene’s voice, which was better than her own. That was what she had always thought, anyhow. How many times had Darlene begged her to come on the road with her. They would make it bigger together, rather than separate, she had been told not just by her sister, but by the agent representing Darlene.
She set her guitar on the floor, leaning against the vanity front. With her hands covering her face, she cried until the sobs were so great she didn’t think she could stop. That’s when his arms came around her. She hadn’t heard him come into the room, but felt the comfort that he was trying to give her. As she calmed in his hold, she began to feel foolish about it all. It had been so long ago, why couldn’t she let it go?
"I heard you singing. Was she your idol?" He spoke about the singer whose songs Jenà had been singing "Was it her life that has you so afraid of trying?"
"How much do you know about Darlene?" she asked quietly, her face still against his chest.
"I thought she had just about everything. Except me." At his statement, she looked up and saw his grin. "I was younger then, twenty-four, twenty-five, when she died. It took me nearly a year to get over it. Silly, isn’t it?"
"No Ethan, it isn’t. Even after these five years, I can’t let go." Fresh tears came to the surface.
"You were just a teenager." He spoke quietly, almost teasing her, as he rested his chin in her hair.
"I was almost nineteen. I was closer to her than anyone else." Her sigh held a sadness she couldn’t expect him to understand.
"I’m sure we all thought that, Jenà. She must have had a good life." He held her, trying to make her feel better, though what he said only made the hurt go deeper. But she wouldn’t hold that against him. He didn’t know.
"She was my sister, Ethan." As soon as the whispered words were out of her mouth, the sobs returned, moving them both.
He stroked her hair, allowing her to cry it out. Now he understood why she was so against that kind of life. She had lived as close as anyone without being in it, unless she herself was beginning to come out at that time. Her sister’s career had ended so tragically. The media had never been clear on the cause, but it was a few years back, and he was over the crush most men his age had found, enough that he didn’t care what took her life.
"I’m sorry, Ethan." She was able to speak to him when he had walked her into the sitting room. He still held her as she sat next to him. She needed to feel his arms around her. When it had hit her like this before, the memories of her sister, she didn’t have anyone to share it with. "I’ve
She looked over at him. The breeze played havoc with his usually neatly combed hair, giving him more of a devilish look. Her heart melted a little before she turned her eyes back to the water below. "No. Please drop it." She left him again, picking up the case on her way to the stairs. She wished she had another place to go, somewhere he wouldn’t find her. For a while, anyway. If he was determined, he would search, or have his staff search for her, until she was where he wanted her.
In her suite, she locked the two doors and went into her bedroom, locking that door also. In the bathroom, turning the lock on that door as well, she sat on the vanity after pulling the guitar from its case. Picking some of the songs that had been exclusively her sister’s, tears dropped on the wooden instrument she held in her arms. For a long time she couldn’t get the words out of her throat, a lump seemed to keep them there.
Her heart felt like it would burst until she started singing the words to the songs, filling the small room with them. As she got through the first two lines, her tears stopped and her thoughts went back to when she used to sit at home with her sister and harmonize with her. She could still hear Darlene’s voice, which was better than her own. That was what she had always thought, anyhow. How many times had Darlene begged her to come on the road with her. They would make it bigger together, rather than separate, she had been told not just by her sister, but by the agent representing Darlene.
She set her guitar on the floor, leaning against the vanity front. With her hands covering her face, she cried until the sobs were so great she didn’t think she could stop. That’s when his arms came around her. She hadn’t heard him come into the room, but felt the comfort that he was trying to give her. As she calmed in his hold, she began to feel foolish about it all. It had been so long ago, why couldn’t she let it go?
"I heard you singing. Was she your idol?" He spoke about the singer whose songs Jenà had been singing "Was it her life that has you so afraid of trying?"
"How much do you know about Darlene?" she asked quietly, her face still against his chest.
"I thought she had just about everything. Except me." At his statement, she looked up and saw his grin. "I was younger then, twenty-four, twenty-five, when she died. It took me nearly a year to get over it. Silly, isn’t it?"
"No Ethan, it isn’t. Even after these five years, I can’t let go." Fresh tears came to the surface.
"You were just a teenager." He spoke quietly, almost teasing her, as he rested his chin in her hair.
"I was almost nineteen. I was closer to her than anyone else." Her sigh held a sadness she couldn’t expect him to understand.
"I’m sure we all thought that, Jenà. She must have had a good life." He held her, trying to make her feel better, though what he said only made the hurt go deeper. But she wouldn’t hold that against him. He didn’t know.
"She was my sister, Ethan." As soon as the whispered words were out of her mouth, the sobs returned, moving them both.
He stroked her hair, allowing her to cry it out. Now he understood why she was so against that kind of life. She had lived as close as anyone without being in it, unless she herself was beginning to come out at that time. Her sister’s career had ended so tragically. The media had never been clear on the cause, but it was a few years back, and he was over the crush most men his age had found, enough that he didn’t care what took her life.
"I’m sorry, Ethan." She was able to speak to him when he had walked her into the sitting room. He still held her as she sat next to him. She needed to feel his arms around her. When it had hit her like this before, the memories of her sister, she didn’t have anyone to share it with. "I’ve
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