Unfinished Melody

George carried his beer over to the table during his break. Snagging the missing chair from the nearby table where it had sat since that first night, he held her hand and sipped his beer.

"Everything okay, Jill?" he asked. "You seem quiet this evening." George's voice was concerned.

"Just thinking, I guess," she answered.

Bo's amplified voice from the stage interrupted their conversation. "If I could have my guitar player back, we'd be able to start the next set." The bar broke into scattered laughter and applause.

"I guess that's my cue," George said, rising from the chair. "I'd rather stay with you, but that won't pay the bill or make these people happy." He gave her a long, slow kiss and walked back to the stage, picked up his guitar and began to play.

Jill listened to George as he played the last set. She tried to memorize his hands, his voice, his face, him, as the band's music rocked the bar. When the band announced, "Last one for the evening, folks. A slow one to get everyone in the mood," Jill opened her purse once again and removed the note. She reapplied her lipstick with slightly trembling fingers, unfolded the note and added a kiss to the bottom.

She flagged the waitress over, handed her the note and asked her to make sure George got it when the set was finished. She blinked back the tears beginning to fall, unzipped the side pocket of her purse and slid the engagement ring back onto her finger. As the band played the last verse ofIf You Could Read My Mind, Jill walked out of the bar and into the night.

The cocktail waitress saw George waiting patiently by the table Jill had been sitting at. "Looking for the girl who was sitting here?" When George nodded, she handed him a note. "She left this for you."

George opened the folded slip of paper. 'I'm so sorry, George. Love, Jill.'

"Hey, George!" Bo yelled from the door. "We're loaded up and ready to roll. Jill coming along?" he asked, knowing how his friend felt about this girl.

"I guess not," George answered, opening his guitar case and placing the note carefully inside.

"You okay, buddy?" Bo asked.

"No, but I will be," George replied as he grabbed his guitar case and walked out into another rainy night.

---

George heard his name. He looked down towards the voice and then froze on the stairs. "Jill?"

Rachel was aghast that her mother had walked over to the side of the stage. She had just left her standing there. She watched as the man carrying the guitar case slowly walked down the steps, set his case down, and took her mother into his arms.

"Is it really you?" He looked into her eyes, knowing what the answer was, but scarcely believing it.

"I can't believe it's you." Jill felt the tears return to her eyes. "You have no idea how many times over the years that I..."

George put a finger to her lips, silencing the rest. "About as many times as I regretted not asking you to stay."

"But you didn't know I was going to leave."

"I knew something was on your mind that last night. I just didn't know what."

Rachel looked at her mother, in the arms of a man she'd never seen before, one of the musicians from that night's concert and looking happier than she'd seen her mother look in a long, long time, perhaps ever.

"Mother?" Rachel had walked to where Jill and George stood in an embrace. "Could you explain what's going on?" Rachel was confused. First, it had taken a near miracle to get her mother out of the house, and now here she was in the arms of a complete stranger.

Jill wiped her eyes and pulled back. "George, this is my daughter, Rachel. Rachel, this is George."

George reached out and shook Rachel's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Suddenly, Rachel felt like she was intruding on something, and felt uncomfortable. "Mother, I think I'll head home, that is if you don't want me to stay."

Jill nodded at Rachel. "That's fine, I'd like to talk with George for a while."

After Rachel had left George asked Jill, "Would you like to go somewhere, get a drink, a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, I'd like that." Jill tried her best to keep the tears from returning. She leaned up and kissed George softly on the cheek.

---

They found corner table in a quiet bar. Jill couldn't help but stare at George. Time had been kind to him, if anything, she thought he was even more attractive.

"I still can't believe that I'm sitting here with you." George reached over and squeezed Rachel's hand. "I never thought I'd find you again, I always hoped, but never gave much of a realistic chance."

"I can't describe how I feel right now. Almost like I've been reborn and that tonight is the first day of a new life."

"I don't know if I should say this, but I've waited for over twenty years to tell you this." George took a deep breath and looked straight into Jill's eyes. "I'm in love with you. I have been since that first night."

"How can you still love me, after all this time?" Jill looked into his soft grey eyes.

"Real love doesn't know time. Time doesn't run out on it. It just is." George's voice was soft and low.

"I'd cry alone at night, knowing I'd left—no, that I'd run away from the one person who was perfect for me."

"I used to have dreams of you. Well, I still have dreams. And then I wake up, the familiar ache would be there. I'd close my eyes, and could swear that I could smell your hair. Feel you against me."

"Why didn't you ever marry? There had to be other girls after me," Jill asked. Her voice was quiet and soft.

"Yes. There were girlfriends after you." George stared off into the distance for a moment and then his eyes returned to hers. "But I never felt the way I felt about you, not even close. Over the years I came to accept that it's possible to live a lifetime in a couple of days, and that's how I felt about that weekend with you."

Jill felt her heart break and the tears stung her eyes. "Oh, George. I'm so sorry..."

"There's nothing to feel sorry about. We've found each other again, that's all that matters."

She took a deep breath, and summoned all of her courage. "George, I want you to come home with me tonight, I want..." Her eyes almost pleaded with his.

He nodded softly. "Yes, I want to."

"Oh, George. We wasted. No. I wasted twenty years we could have spent together. A life time of kisses and lovemaking and love."

"You didn't waste them, Jill. You have a beautiful daughter. That alone makes it worthwhile."

"About my daughter, George." Jill sat up and wrapped the sheets around her.

---

Rachel sat at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee, and trying to make sense of what had happened the previous night.

Jill emerged from her bedroom. "Good morning."

"Morning, Mom." Rachel pointed to the coffee pot. "The coffee's fresh."

Rachel waited until her mother sat down at the table. "Would you care to tell me what happened last night?"

Jill studied her daughter for a few moments, took a sip of coffee and a deep breath. "You might not like what you're about to hear, but there's nothing I can do about that. All that I ask is you sit there and listen, and wait until I'm done."

"Okay." Rachel nodded.

"Two weeks before the wedding I started having doubts, a case of cold feet I guess. I wanted to get away for the weekend and just try to think things out." Jill traveled back two decades to the weekend she met George.

Jill left very little out of her story. Rachel sat quietly and listened to her mother. At times she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry.

When Jill finished she reached into her pocket and pulled out a worn envelope and pulled a picture out it. She slid it across the table to Rachel. "This is all I had from that weekend."

Rachel studied the picture. She marveled at how pretty her mother had been, and how happy she looked. A handsome young man stood with his arms around her. There was something familiar about his face, but she knew she'd never met him, never looked into those silver grey eyes. Eyes so very much like her own.

"It's almost like looking into a mirror." Rachel looked up in astonishment at her mother. "When did you realize..."

"That your father wasn't your father?" Jill asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Very early on, it was your eyes."

"Did dad ever know?" Rachel looked questioningly at her mother.

Jill nodded her head as she held the cup. "Yes, I think so. We had tried to have another child after you were about two, and nothing happened. When you were about five, we found out that your father was pretty much sterile, his sperm count was about zero. He never directly accused me, but after that, our marriage was pretty much over."

Rachel handed the picture back to Jill. "You had more than this from that weekend, you had me."

A warm glow emanated from Jill's face. "Yes, and every day of your life, I saw George's eyes."

Before Rachel could reply George's voice called out. "Is that coffee that I smell?"

He stepped into the kitchen wearing a pair of striped boxer's and a well-worn t-shirt. As soon as he saw Rachel, he blushed and managed a quick apology as he retreated to the bedroom.

"Mother!" Rachel looked aghast at Jill. "You brought him home?"

"And why not?" Jill tried not to sound embarrassed. "I'm a single woman, and if you recall, I didn't say anything when you brought Dustin home."

"Justin." Jill corrected her mother. "And that was different."

"Rachel, why is it different?"

"Well, because Justin and I— I've known him for years. We're in love," Rachel explained exasperatedly. "You've just met this guy. You don't love him. You don't even know him." Her voice rose in frustration.

"No, Rachel. That's where you're wrong. I loved him twenty-one years ago and I never stopped."

George reappeared wearing his pants, and much to Jill's relief, his reappearance into the kitchen interrupted the conversation. He leaned over and kissed Jill on the cheek, and gave Rachel a cheery, "Good morning!"

Rachel tried to disapprove, but his warm smile, and the glow on her mother's face made it impossible.

"Good morning," Rachel said, holding out her hand, "I'm Rachel. I think I'm your daughter."

George took her hand and shook it. "So I've been told."

"So what are you crazy kids going to do now?" Rachel raised her eyebrows and looked at her mother first and then at George.

Jill blushed. "Well, George has about a month left on his tour, he's asked me to go along with him." "And I said," she paused for a moment, her cheeks seemed to glow as she gazed into his eyes, "yes."

"And," George said, taking Jill's hand and kissing it softly, "there's a little hotel room a few hours south of here we need to revisit."

Desperation Boulevard,
Where dreams can come true,
If even for a night,
On Desperation Boulevard.