Caleb's Song Read online

  “Twins?”

  “Yes,” Gabby replied offhandedly, adding butter and condiments to the lazy Susan in the centre of the table. “But please don’t worry,” Gabby graced him with a smile, “they won’t bother you while you are staying with us, I promise.”

  “Bother him?” Maria spoke, indignation tinting her voice. “How can you say that? These two, nothing but goodness, that’s what they are.”

  “Mother,” Gabby’s tone held a clear warning, Lucia and Sofia scooted closer to each other, watching the scene warily.

  “Maria, she didn’t mean anything by it, come on now, eat your breakfast, you know Gabby made those pastries for you,” Nico placated his wife with a broad grin, adding his own pastry to her plate. “It is nice to have you here Caleb, tell me, what is it that you do?” Uh oh, Caleb hadn’t actually thought about his profession. Should he tell them the truth? No, the last thing he needed was for the wretched paparazzi to find him here, especially when he was this close to twelve months. No, besides, after two weeks he wouldn’t see any of them again, so a little white lie wouldn’t hurt, would it?

  “I own a music shop.” Not exactly a lie, he and Sam did buy a music shop, not that he ever spent any time there, his face was far too recognisable to work in a shop. Still, it remained a solid investment, and a base for him to use for CD signings and press conferences.

  “A music shop, how wonderful! Do you play?”

  “I’ve played guitar for twenty years or so. My dad thought it would keep me out of trouble as a teen.” Laughter tinged Caleb’s reply at the memory.

  “And did it?”

  “It certainly cemented my direction in life, that is for sure.” Caleb took a swig of coffee. “I also play piano and the viola, although nowhere near the level at which I play guitar”.

  “Did you bring your guitar with you?” Sofia, or was it Lucia, piped up. “Maybe you can play for us?” Uh oh, not where he wanted this conversation to go at all.

  “I brought one of them with me yes,” he hoped that would be the end of their innocent questions.

  “How many guitars do you have Mr Roman?”

  “I have over three hundred,” Caleb smiled proudly. “I like to collect guitars from all over the world, I have them in storage now, and some of them are at my shop, but one day I want to have a special room just to display them in.”

  “That would be awesome!” Yes, Caleb thought, it sure would be. “So, will you play for us, puh-lease?”

  “I’m sorry, but no, I can’t,” he cleared his throat self-consciously. “I, ah, was in an accident a while ago, I can’t play.” He was unable to hide the way his hand shook as he held his coffee cup, clattered it into the saucer before he dropped it. His anguished voice left no room for argument, he loathed how vulnerable it made him sound, like a weak coward. That’s what he was, weak.

  “Well,” Maria looked at him gently, “what you need is a nice stay in the country, no? Two weeks with us, you’ll see, you’ll play again.” She nodded her head vigorously. “Beryl Creek is magic; did you know that? This town was named for Beryl Rossi, my great great grandmother. She was a witch, a healer, this town protected her when no one else would, and in return she blessed the townsfolk with the creek that runs through the centre of town. Mark my words, you’ll see, there is magic in the air, and in the water, here.” Caleb smiled, it was a nice idea in any case, and obviously meant to comfort him.

  “Thank you, I look forward to that,” he was surprised to realise that he actually meant the words he spoke.

  “Well then, it’s settled. Gabby, you and the girls can show Caleb around Beryl Creek after work this afternoon”. If Gabby disagreed with her mother ordering her to show him around, and it was most definitely an order, she certainly didn’t show it.

  “You work?” Too late Caleb realised how incredulous that sounded, and not wanting to cause offense, he hastened to add, “I’m sorry, I meant...I thought running the bed and breakfast was your full-time job,” he finished lamely.

  “No,” Gabby drained her coffee cup, “Mum and dad own the bakery in town, I work there. Baker, shop girl, accountant, you name it, I do it.” She stood, kissing the girls on their cheeks, “I better go, Mr Porter will be wondering where his bread is.” She shared a secret smile with her dad. “You girls be good for nanna and poppy today, stay out of Mr Roman’s way. When I get home, we’ll walk up to town. If poppy says you’ve been good, we’ll get ice cream for dessert.” Her statement was met with a loud cheer from the girls, and Caleb suspected that their poppy would say they had been good even if they burnt the house down.

  After breakfast had been finished, Caleb allowed the girls to show him where the garden was, a lush green oasis brimming with butterflies and the sounds of birds calling out a greeting to each other. Tucked neatly into the far corner of the garden was a white wooden cubby house, complete with a covered veranda, and cheerful bunting hanging from the guttering, swaying in the gentle summer breeze. A well-tended tiered vegetable garden ran the entire length of the back yard, vines laden down with passionfruit obscured the fence from view, pumpkin tendrils snaked across the lawn, and tomatoes spilled from stakes. A giant peppercorn tree partially hid the house from view, covering the lush green lawn with shade. Potted flowers and herbs filled the undercover back patio, a riot of colours and smells assaulted his senses. It was, he decided, an oasis, a soothing balm to the ugliness of the world outside. Feeling unusually inspired, Caleb retrieved a notebook and pen from his room upstairs, dragging a lawn chair into the shade of the old peppercorn tree, sitting to stare up through its waterfall of branches at the patches of cloudless blue sky overhead.

  Warm summer air mingled with a gentle breeze, fluttering across his face. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, staring, unseeing, at the dreamy azure while images, unbidden, danced behind his eyelids. Memories of another time and place, a laugh frozen in time, a future unrealised. Sighing heavily, he picked up his pen and started to sketch out the start of a new song, a few lines of disjointed lyrics that he would attempt to weave together into something coherent later. They were dreadful, amateurish. He was woefully out of practice, whereas before he would have been able to string together the lyrics for an award-winning song in minutes and compose it by the end of the day. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to write exactly, it was just that he was conflicted. He didn’t want to inflict his deep-seated anguish and pain, or worse, his self-loathing, onto any of his fans via his music, which is exactly what he feared would happen if he wrote anything new now. It was all he had left, it that he had within himself now, a gaping blackness. He wasn’t sure he wanted to return to his old self, didn’t know if he could. It surprised him to realise that it didn’t bother him as much as it would have previously. Maybe music wasn’t his future anymore, maybe he was done with that whole scene.

  The question was, if he gave it up, what would he do? More importantly, who would he be? Music had been his identity for eighteen years; he had gotten his big break when he was seventeen, and the band he formed in his father’s garage had opened for the Sydney Music Festival. Unheard of for an unknown band, they had been lucky, the original band scheduled had needed to pull out, the organiser’s assistant had just heard Caleb’s song on a demo. A week later, their lives had changed. Caleb was proud of the fact that all of the original band members were still active in the band, and more importantly, still the best of friends. At least, they had been. Caleb wasn’t sure if they would forgive him this year of silence, apart from an occasional email or text message, Caleb had intentionally ignored them. Self-absorbed and selfish, his inner voice chided him, not in the last bit flattering these days.

  His inner voice, his constant companion, urging him to do better, to be better, the one voice Caleb had been unable to tune out, no matter how he tried.

  CHAPTER THREE

  He sat, stringing lyrics and poems together, until the shadows darkened, closed in around him, the air stilling. A dog barked off in the distance, ca
lling for his supper, a car engine cut out, the screen door slammed, excited voices growing louder as they approached him

  “Mister Roman?” Tentative, not sure if it should intrude on his solitude. Caleb stood, dragging his chair out from under the peppercorn tree, smiling down at Sofia and Lucia. “Mama’s home, she said if you wanted to, we would show you around the town?”

  “Hmm,” Caleb pretended to think about the question. “Will there be ice cream?”

  “Uh huh,” serious brown eyes met his, “poppy told mama we were very good.”

  “Then let’s go.” A flurry of excited chatter drowned out anything else that Caleb might have said, and he dutifully followed the girls inside, only managing to catch half of what it was they were saying. He left them waiting in the loungeroom while he dashed upstairs for his wallet, stopping short when he heard his name mentioned.

  “I didn’t make them for Caleb dad, I made them for you.” A cajoling laugh had Caleb wondering just what Gabby had made.

  “You should be baking for a husband, not an old man.” A heavy sigh.

  “Dad,” a warning.

  “What? I can’t have an opinion now. Gabby, you shouldn’t be here, caring for a cripple. You’re wasting your life.” Regret mingled with sadness; Caleb wondered what had happened to Nico to colour his tone.

  “Dad, enough! You are not a burden to me, stop talking like this, please. Now, are you sure that you want to stay up here while the girls and I are out? I’m happy to ca-”

  “No, I’ll be fine, I know you’re tired.”

  “I’ll bring you back some butterscotch swirl ice cream; we won’t be back late.” Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping, Caleb slipped quietly into his room and slowly counted to one hundred, returning to the loungeroom just after Gabby.

  The walk into the centre of town took longer than Caleb thought it would, considering it was only two blocks away. Both Lucia and Sofia were keen to point out all of their favourite objects to him. Honestly, he had never seen so many trees given such peculiar attributes before. He had to admit though, their imaginations were delightful. He wondered if he had been this imaginative as a child, he made a mental note to ask his mum the next time he spoke to her. If there was a next time, he thought guiltily, aware of the fact that after twelve months with barely a hello, she may in fact relegate him to the doghouse once he finally returned to Sydney and started taking her calls again. The familiar ache throbbed in his chest, nostalgia for childhood and a longing for the comfort of home, of his mother’s embrace, rose up, robbing him of his breath. He swallowed hard, forcing the feeling aside, not prepared to dissect it right now.

  As with most federation towns, Beryl Creek celebrated its heritage, with all of the shops along the main street retaining their quaint antique facades. In some cases, a single business was spread through two or three shop fronts, an interior wall knocked out to create a larger space. As far as main streets went, this one was postcard perfect, or it would have been had it not been bustling with jostling tourists. Although Beryl Creek was nothing more than a mere blip on a map, Caleb discovered it was surprisingly bigger than it looked. Beryl Creek, Gabby informed him, boasted a newsagency, ice cream parlour, butcher, veterinarian, fruit shop, medical centre, large corner store, motel, takeaway shop, caravan park, florist, two pubs, three churches, and, a bakery.

  They wandered up one side of the main street, Gabby pointing out bits of interesting trivia and town lore as they went, stopping several times as people chatted to Gabby, asking after her parents. It was obvious the town felt very highly of the older couple. As promised, their first stop was the ice cream parlour, the elaborate gold lettered Edwardian sign proclaiming it to be Aunt Vi’s Ice Cream Parlour. Caleb could see why the girls were so eager to come here, it was a child’s dream world. Old fashioned booths ran down the entire middle of the store, with the side wall covered in a dizzying array of candy, in a riot of colours that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a boutique store in Sydney. An old-fashioned counter ran the length of the opposite wall, with glass cases displaying the various ice creams on offer. Lucia and Sofia ran ahead, eagerly pushing their faces up to the glass, oohing and aahing over the flavours.

  “They love seeing Vi’s latest crazy creation,” Gabby offered as she and Caleb made their way over to the girls.”

  “Gabby! It is so good to see you hun, how you doin’?” The scent of freshly cut carnations swirled around Caleb’s head as strong arms embraced Gabby across the countertop.

  “Aunty Vi, you saw me at lunchtime,” Gabby teased.

  “Well now, a lot can happen in a few hours, can’t it?” Vi looked pointedly at Caleb.

  “Aunt Vi! Seriously, this is Caleb, a guest at our bed and breakfast.” The shocked rebuttal a knee jerk reaction, Caleb was sure, but still...He felt stirrings of indignation at the speed at which Gabby dismissed her Aunt’s thinly veiled suggestion. Honestly, he was a catch, there were scores of women around the world all eager to be able to claim they had spent even a single night in bed with the famous Caleb Roman, let alone...Huh. The thought brought him up short. Perhaps all of him hadn’t turned to stone that night after all, interesting.

  They ordered their ice cream cones and took them outside, wandering slowly towards the creek that the town drew its name from.

  “Caleb, I’m sorry for back there,” Gabby worried her bottom lip. “I realise that probably sounded rude, but Vi is the biggest gossip in Beryl Creek. She either cajoles your secret out of you herself, or she simply makes something up. I’ve, ah, learnt to set her straight over the years.”

  “Thanks for the heads up,” Caleb was unable to resist teasing her. “I think I had better steer clear of her while I am in town then, I wouldn’t want her discovering my deep dark secrets.”

  “Puh-leeze,” Gabby snorted, “how many could you possibly have?” Indeed, thought Caleb, swallowing down the bile rising in his throat. If only she knew.

  They finished their ice creams in companionable silence, perched on a boulder, watching the girls splash by the edge of the river. As the sun started to set, and the shadows grew longer, Gabby rose, brushed the few stray crumbs from her floral dress, and called for the girls. There was a chorus of complaints, a verbal protest at the fairness of going home at this early hour, only silenced with the promise that they would be allowed to remain up past their bedtime once they got home, in order to watch a DVD. They made a final stop at Aunt Vi’s Ice Cream Parlour, Caleb offering to remain outside with the girls while Gabby went in, returning shortly with a tub of butterscotch ice cream for her father, and two bags of old-fashioned mixed lollies for the girls. The walk home was silent, each engrossed in their own thoughts and plans. Once home, the girls rushed upstairs to give their poppy his ice cream, and to tell him all about their adventures.

  Gabby walked through to the kitchen, taking out plates and a various assortment of grocery items, mixing and whipping and chopping, humming softly to herself as she went.

  “Caleb would you mind setting the table please? There are plates in that cupboard there,” Gabby gestured broadly in Caleb’s direction. “Just four, mum and dad will eat upstairs tonight.” Caleb did as he was asked, watching Gabby as she moved about. “Simple pizza for dinner tonight, I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Are you kidding?! I love a good pizza.”

  “Mama’s pizzas aren’t ‘good’, they are the best in the world!” a small voice piped up, Lucia and Sofia sidling up to Gabby.

  “Is that so?” Caleb teased.

  “Yep.” Heads nodded vigorously, the confidence of youth.

  “Well, in that case, I can’t wait to try it.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  An hour later, full of Capricciosa pizza, garlic bread, and green salad, Caleb leant back on his pillows and groaned. The girls had been right, that had been the best pizza he had ever eaten. After dinner the girls had been given their bags of candy and settled in the lounge room to watch their DVD, their nanna coming down to join th
em. Caleb had offered to help Gabby with the dishes, and had dried while she washed, keeping up a steady stream of conversation, enjoying listening to the sound of her voice. It was warm caramel, soothing to his aching soul, dangerously addictive. The realisation had him bidding her good night and retiring to his room. He had found the entire evening more fun than he would have thought, it was a nice change from his usual frozen dinner for one eaten straight out of the packet while standing at the kitchen bench. An unhealthy habit he knew but alienating everyone in his life had made him realise just how awful he was at actually cooking anything other than toast. Now that was something that he could change. Reaching for his laptop he opened up an internet browser ad navigated to a search engine. Within a few clicks he had found a cooking school close to his home and shot them off an email enquiring about private classes.

  The fresh air from his walk combined with the fullness from a home cooked meal soon had Caleb’s eyelids drooping, and for the second night in a row, he fell asleep fully clothed.

  Laughing, Caleb turned to look at Sam, his eyes twinkling. “See,” he couldn’t help teasing the other man, “I knew you would have a good time tonight Sammy.”