Music You Know By Heart (eBook)

Chapter One

Two years later

Emma Parish froze, fingers hovering over the keyboard in mid-word. Something was not right. She read the sentence again. It was, factually, a good sentence. Heck, even grammatically, it was a pretty good sentence. Psychologically, it was in the right place in the novel—readers would expect a sentence like that right about now. She read it again. Yep, it was exactly what should fit there, snug in a paragraph in mid-chapter. So, all good. Except it wasn’t.

She leaned back in her chair. What? A small rather faint voice suggested an unwanted answer. Emma tried to ignore it. There was no denying it, however. It’s boring. In fact, the whole paragraph was boring. She looked around fleetingly for a distraction. Her eyes lit on the letter lying in plain sight on the table. She stretched.

Maybe a walk. To clear things up, find a twist, a plot change. Emma smiled to herself. She knew better.

It was the letter—third one in a series, she noted—that had her attention now. She re-read the letter again, even though she practically knew it by heart.

Dear Ms. Parish,

It is with great concern I write you today. Your brother Sean believes that your decision to return to the Pacific Northwest with all its difficult memories came too soon. He worries that you are not yet ready to absorb living life without a true support system, and therapy is part of that.

If you remember, we agreed that ongoing therapy would not cease when you returned to Black Bear, but Sean reports that you have not yet found a therapist you are comfortable with. This puts your hard work in jeopardy, as a relapse is more likely when therapy is cut short.

Why not return to London for a brief visit and we can determine together what the next step in your recovery from the tragic events you experienced? As I have said often, this kind of thing takes a long time to heal from.

Please contact me at your earliest convenience, and we will continue your therapy so that you can return to your home stronger than ever.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Dr. David Dyer

She looked down at the long-haired orange tabby sprawled on the old wood desk.

“I doubt he’ll feel that way for much longer,” she said out loud. She pulled up the response she’d written, and then rewritten, after her anger had subsided somewhat.

Dear Dr. Dyer,

I am touched by your concern for my well-being, but I assure you the decision to return to my home in the Pacific Northwest was not a mistake. I have enjoyed being back in my home and feel the stability that one finds at home. There are certainly some difficult memories in Black Bear, but there are also good memories, and these fill my heart with strength.

I am surprised my brother finds this so concerning. I have, as per our agreement, kept him abreast of my mental health issues through my cousin, John Morrissey, and his wife, Dr. Teresa Morrissey. As they can attest, I have very few issues that concern them.

I feel it would be destabilizing to my recovery to return to London at this time, and although I would enjoy visiting with you, I think you would agree that my recovery must remain my priority.

Sincerely,

Emma Parish

“Well, there’s nothing left but to mail it, I suppose,” she said to the cat. She pushed down the memories of the many months she had sat in his office, reliving the nightmare she so desperately wanted to understand, and set out to walk the half mile driveway to the mailbox. Clouds hung gray in the tall firs and cedars obscuring the fact that it was summer. At least, Emma thought, it suited her mood. She arrived at the box just as the mail truck rolled up.

Emma waved to the mail lady. “Just in the nick of time,” she said, handing the letter over.

“Trade you,” the mail lady said, handing Emma her day’s mail.

“Thanks.”

Back in the house, Emma tossed the sale papers, the offers for reverse mortgages, the out-and-out junk, leaving only one letter remaining. “Is it from the good doctor?” she asked Ruby Wildfire, who was now sitting up, purring loudly.

Emma picked up the envelope. Gil Stanton. She smiled at the sight of his name. So much history in one name. She looked at the postmark. Los Angeles, California. What’s Gil doing in LA? she wondered. Last she’d heard, he’d been in Nashville.

Her interest now piqued, she sliced into the envelope with an ornate letter opener that Ruby had been lying on. She pulled out a folded piece of copy paper from an oversized envelope. Gil had drawn his rendition of palm trees, ocean, and stick people on what Emma assumed were surf boards. “Come Play, Emma” had been written on the bottom. She opened the fold. Enclosed was a ticket and a backstage pass. He had scribbled a note: Couldn’t be on this side of the Rockies without thinking of you slaving away in the drippy Northwest. Come listen to the new band. Be here two days, then off to Sidney.

“What an interesting idea,” she said to Ruby, who was still purring as Emma absent mindedly stroked her soft fur. Emma leaned back into the high-back chair and put her feet up on the corner of the oak desk. She looked out of the curved row of ceiling to floor windows that comprised her west wall, trying to remember when she’d last seen the sun. Ruby climbed down into her lap and made herself comfortable.

“Well,” Emma said, scratching the cat behind her ears, “I guess I could draft John to feed you for a couple of days.” Ruby made no objections, and Emma contemplated her plans further. “Still, a rock concert? I haven’t been to one of those since, well, forever, and it was so loud.” Ruby made chortling noises. “What? Does that sound too old? It does, doesn’t it?” Ruby went back to purring, rolled to expose her soft white belly fur. “I should just go, shouldn’t I?” Ruby purred louder. “Trying to get rid of me so you can have wild parties?” Ruby meowed innocently. “Yeah, I’ve heard all about them from Mrs. Carrington. Food was everywhere, and the shredded TP was epic.”

At the mention of food, Ruby jumped down and headed for her food dish.

Thirty minutes later, Emma found herself sitting in the lobby of Black Bear’s Sheriff’s office.

“So, you off to that town that got leveled by that tornado, Ms. Parish? Global ’s already there. Saw it on the news.”

Emma felt slight pangs of guilt, but since she had not been asked to be there, she hadn’t volunteered, sure her brother would have it well in hand. God knows, he does everything else. “No, Jonah,” she said. “This trip is just for fun. Is John off the phone yet?”

A large blond Viking dressed as a deputy came around the corner, looking serious and nodded to Emma.

She waved. She knew Mike Petersen from a brief and ultimately failed love affair he’d had with her next-door neighbor, Sarah. He struck Emma as being so serious now—sad even—in perpetual need of a hug.

“Yes, ma’am. Sheriff is off the phone now,” said Jonah.

Emma waited for Sheriff John Morrissey to notice her standing in the doorway. He motioned to her to sit down in the only other chair in his sparse office. The township of Black Bear had, not so long ago, been able to afford a sheriff, four deputies, a receptionist, a clerk, decent furniture, and updated equipment, but those days were long gone. Now, the town limped by with a sheriff, two deputies, a part time clerk, and equipment that was at least ten years old. Emma had donated new radios and an updated computer system last year, out of shear worry for her Cousin John’s well-being.

“Good timing. I was just about to call you,” John said.

“Oh?”

“Just got off the phone with State. Levi Barber made bail. He’ll be out as soon as the paperwork’s signed, which won’t be longer than two, maybe three, days.”

Emma’s face fell, taking her bright smile with it. “I thought you said he’d be in jail until the trial,” she said, alarmed.

“I thought he would be, but he raised the money. Probably through Daddy Nathan’s crazy cult, but unfortunately, that’s not illegal.”

“Is the restraining order still valid?”

“Yeah. But you know he’s gonna be pissed.”

“But if he comes near me or my property, you can arrest him, right?”

“Yeah, I can. But frankly, Emma, with Gil on the road, I really don’t want you on the mountain at all by yourself. Any chance you can stay with me and Teresa for a few days?”

“Well, actually, that’s why I’m here, although if I’d known you’d have such great news for me, I would have gone to the clinic and talked to your lovely wife.”

John smiled at the mention of his lovely wife. “She’s home today. They hired that part time relief doctor since she’s in the last trimester, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. The new guy. I swear he looks like he’s in high school.”

“Yeah, Ems, we’re old. Get over it.”

“Hey, speak for yourself there. I’m off to LA to...