10.

Natalie hadn’t waited four seconds after coming through her door that night before she popped open the case and pulled out the guitar. It was beautiful – a custom Taylor made from sapele and mascassar ebony, or so she'd read on the slip of paper in the case. She wasted no time in sliding the strap over her shoulder and running her hands along the neck and fingerboard; she actually threw her head back and laughed out loud out of excitement as she strummed out the first few chords of an old country tune, and couldn’t wipe the giddy grin from her face.

She looked back down in the case and picked up the same slip of paper, reading all about her guitar. Another piece of paper caught her attention, and she turned her attention instead to it.

“Enjoy. You deserve it. Use it well. – Richie

PS: I expect a new song by the time I get back.”

Natalie smiled to herself again, but returned the guitar to its case. “You are getting in over your head, girl,” she warned herself. Her mind drifted back to that kiss – as amazing as it was, she knew it was nothing more than a result of being stuck in that place by themselves, and she knew it was wrong of her to kiss him like that. She grimaced a bit, hoping he didn’t think she was coming on to him simply because of who he was. She couldn’t help it – he’d invaded her thoughts, even her dreams. He had a way of sneaking into her, a way nobody since her ex-husband had managed. “Stop it. Stop it now,” she warned herself again as she rose from the floor. “There’s no use getting all wound up over someone like him.”

In an effort to push him from her mind, she grabbed a composition notebook and pen and headed out to her back porch. It was a clear, starry night and the Tenneesee air was light and cool; the water in the pool danced magically under the moonlight and lapped against the sides. She settled down into a chair, notebook in lap, and looked up at the stars. The thought came to her almost instantly, and she smiled sadly to herself as she began writing.

It was the quickest song she’d ever written, and she had to admit it was one of her favorites she’d ever penned. She hummed it to herself a few times before she began singing the lyrics, and tears rolled down her cheeks in the cover of the night.

After that evening, the weeks passed by slowly, torturously. Natalie was distracted at work, dropping glasses and not hearing people when they spoke to her. Richie was distracted himself, but had grown so accustomed to the feeling that he was able to perform with relative ease. It was when he had free time that he grew restless, mentally kicking himself for not getting a number from her before he left town. Natalie had made a habit of reading the note he’d left her on a daily basis; she’d even taken to carrying it around in her back pocket. Richie, on the other hand, had nothing to remember her by but the idea of her in his mind. He’d occasionally pull that out and go over her face, her laugh, her tiny little hands…

The end of the month couldn’t have come soon enough. Richie was at the airport early, itching to get back to the east coast. He knew he was being stupid, reckless even. He was playing with fire with this woman, but he had no intentions of turning away from it. From an idealistic point of view, it all had to mean something, right? That there was a reason he couldn’t get her out of his mind? From a realistic point of view, he was fairly certain he was starting something he shouldn’t be.

Anxiously, Richie didn’t even go by the hotel he was staying at when he touched down in Nashville. He had his bags sent over straight away, and he headed for Benny’s. The place was empty, and he walked up the main window and peered through. He saw that all the chairs were resting on the tables and the lights were off, but someone was moving around in there. He rapped lightly on the window, and the person inside stopped sweeping the floor and turned around. It was a young girl, one he hadn’t seen there before.

“Sorry,” he read on her lips as she walked to the window. She pointed to the sign on the door which read ‘closed.’ He hadn’t even thought about that, the bar didn’t open until the evening.
“Do you know where I can find Natalie?” he asked loudly, trying to enunciate as much as he could. The girl’s expression told him she didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Natalie,” he repeated. “She works here.” The girl shook her head and mouthed another apology before she returned to her work. Richie swore under his breath and turned around, running a frustrated hand over his chin. He stared down the road, waiting for a new idea that just wasn’t coming to him.
“You’re lookin for Nat?” someone asked, causing Richie to whirl around. It was the girl with glasses, the one he’d spoken to that first night.
“Yeah, do you know where I can find her?”
”Sure. She lives down on Elliot road.”
“Where’s that?”
”If you wanna find her, I guess you’ll figure it out,” came the cryptic, teasing response. The woman winked and walked past Richie to the door; she waved at the girl inside, who came forward to let her in.
"Women," he muttered miserably, shaking his head and working out a new plan in his mind.

It took him two sets of verbal directions and one trip to MapQuest before Richie had an idea of where he was going. Her house was pretty far out of town, but he enjoyed the drive there. The countryside was beautiful, and the wind blew the grass like it was ocean. When he saw the Elliot road sign, he smiled in his rearview mirror as he made the turn.

It was an old dirt road, and he could see her house a little ways down the road. As he neared the house, he could see her in the front yard. She evidently heard the car coming down the road, because she stopped whatever she was doing and straightened up, one hand over her forehead to shield the sun. She recognized him in the driver’s seat, and broke out into that smile of her’s.

Pulling into the driveway, Richie stopped the car and stepped out. He could see now that she’d been gardening, and she had dirt smudged across her face and hands. Her cheeks were red and bits of her hair were sticking to them, but Richie was sure he hadn’t seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Hey there,” she said, still smiling.
“You’re a hard woman to track down, know that?”
“All you had to do was ask. What are you doing here?”

Richie realized he didn’t have an answer. He had no idea what he was doing there, other than looking at her. Rather than make up some dumb story, he just shrugged and stepped closer to her.

“Came to see you.”
“Well. Here I am. You see me,” she answered, grinning even broader now. God, he’s addicting, she thought.
“I went to the bar. You weren’t there.”
“We don’t open until tonight,” she chuckled. Richie admired her work around the house, knowing she didn’t have a husband around to do it.
“Well what am I supposed to do until then?” he asked hopefully, his eyes daring her to turn him away.
“Well that depends a great deal on what you want to do until then."
“Don’t tempt me, baby,” he laughed.
“Come on in. I’ll rinse off and we’ll see if we can’t figure something out.”

He followed her into the house through an old screen door, and the smell of it enveloped him. It smelled fresh and clean, definitely a woman’s house.

“You can go ahead and make yourself at home,” she offered with a gesture toward the living room, “I’ll be back in one second.”

Natalie scampered off down the hallway, and Richie heard the shut of what he assumed was a bedroom door. He wandered over to her fireplace and took a look at the pictures lining the mantle. He smiled to himself at childhood pictures of her; she really hadn’t changed all that much. Her hair was longer then, and lighter too. The smile faded when he saw a picture he knew had to be her and Luke at their high school graduation; they looked happy, in love. Moving aside another picture, he saw one that caught his interest.

Natalie was sitting on the beach, her blue eyes shining and almost alien like against the red tint of her skin. There was a little boy nestled in her lap, and they were both laughing. Her arms were wrapped around him, and his head was resting against her chest. They had the same eyes, the same smile, the same dimples. Richie knew he had to be her’s, and he wondered why she hadn’t mentioned him; Ava always managed to creep her way into his conversations on a daily basis.

“That’s better,” came her voice behind him, startling him. He turned to look at her; she’d changed into shorts and a simple t-shirt, and her hair was pulled into a high ponytail.
“Where’s this little man?” he asked with a smile, pulling the picture frame down in his hands. Natalie joined him at his side and took it from him, running a hand along the boy’s face.
“He’s gone,” she said simply, and Richie looked down at her with confusion in his face. Natalie knew there was no way he could have possibly understood, so she explained. “He died when he was four. He had leukemia.”

Richie’s heart and face sank at the succinct and numb way she’d said it. He felt like a pile of worthless shit, having brought it up.

“Jesus, Natalie. I’m sorry—“
”No, it’s all right. You didn’t know.”
“What was his name?” Richie asked softly, stroking her back lightly. Natalie returned the picture to its proper place and smiled at it.
“Benny,” she answered, and Richie heard the joy in her voice at saying his name. “Well, Bennett. We always called him Benny.”
“Like the—“
”Yeah. Like the bar," she finished. "I’m not just a bartender there. I own the place,” she explained. Richie hadn’t even considered that, and he was a little surprised. It felt inappropriate, though, to dwell on that after she’d just told him she had a dead son. She sensed how uncomfortable he was and shook her head at him.
“Richie, it’s fine,” she insisted, offering him the most reassuring smile she could find.
“How long did you know?” he asked a little awkwardly.
“We found out when he was a little over a year old. The doctor was hopeful, as were Luke and I. I didn’t tell you the whole truth that night in the car. We got a divorce because he walked out one morning and didn’t look back, never even called. He couldn’t handle the stress of a sick child, I guess. Benny fought. He really did, he fought so hard for three years. I took him all over the place trying to get treatment and help. He made it longer than any of us expected him to. He was so strong…so strong for such a little person.”

Like his mother, Richie thought.

“I just can’t imagine what it’s like…”
”I hope you never have to,” Natalie cut him off. Richie realized it was her way of telling him it was okay that he’d asked, but that it wasn’t something she wanted to speak about for a prolonged period of time. “C’mon, can I get you something to drink?”

Natalie pulled him into the kitchen and away from the heartwrenching picture. Richie’s mind wandered to Ava, and he got a knot in his throat just thinking about what he’d do if something ever happened to her. He remembered the day she’d woken up with an unusually high fever, and the panic it had sent him and Heather into.

“You write that song yet?” he asked, trying to get his mind on something he knew more about.
“Yep. Wrote it that first night, actually.”
“Any good?” he asked, impressed.
“I like it,” she said with a nod and a shrug as she moved around the kitchen. She stood on her tiptoes to get something from the cabinet, and Richie grinned at her efforts. He rose from the table and moved in place behind her.
“What’re you reaching for, darling?” he asked, looking up at the cabinet. She pointed at some coffee bags, and Richie pulled them down for her.
“Thanks.”
”No problem. I’ll make the coffee, you go get that guitar and play that song of your’s.”

Natalie hesitated, not because she was nervous to play but because she was unsure of what Richie would think. She could see how uncomfortable the story of her little boy had made him, and she was pretty sure the song would as well.

“No stalling, get in there.”

No didn’t seem to be an option, so she grabbed her guitar and wandered back into the kitchen. “Promise not to go all weird on me?” she asked, propping up one leg on a chair. Richie nodded like it was nothing and turned back to his coffee.

“We camped out on the living room floor
In our old sleeping bag by a make believe fire
In a tent made of covers, we talked for hours
My little boy and me
Keeping the faith, racing with destiny.

He was an angel in waiting
Waiting for wings to fly from this world
Away from his pain
Treasuring time, ‘til time came to leave
Leaving behind sweet memories
Angel in waiting, angel in waiting for wings

He always knew he’d never grow old
Sometimes the body is weaker than the soul.
In his darkest hour, I made a promise
I will always keep
I’ll give him life, I’ll let him live through me.”

She sang and played the chorus twice more, her voice strong and clear. Richie had turned around to watch her, and she smiled as she sang this time. When he looked at her now, he saw the little boy from the picture in her face. He imagined she had to have been an amazing mother, and his throat tightened at the thought of having to go through all of that alone. Her mind was so far away that she didn’t even see him when he walked over to her to stand behind her again, and he placed a soft kiss on her neck as she finished.

“Beautiful,” he said simply. Natalie smiled and put the guitar on the table before she turned to him.
“I’m glad you like it. It’s my favorite.”
”You shouldn’t be playing in that bar, you know.”
”I like my bar.”
”I like it too. But it’s selfish of you to keep these songs to yourself.”
“Nevermind that. Let’s take our coffee out back,” she interrupted, obviously trying to avoid the subject. Richie dropped it for now; he understood that not everybody was cut out for his line of work. He lived off of big crowds, loved hearing them shouting his words back at him. Some people…just didn’t.

As they stepped outside, Richie realized the vastness of her yard. It, literally, was huge. She settled down in a swing by the pool and motioned for Richie to join her.

“You like livin out here all by yourself?” he asked, his eyes still scanning around. He didn’t see another house for miles.
“Mhm. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Nobody bothers me unless I want them to,” she laughed.
“You don’t get scared?”
“Of what? The trees? This ain’t Los Angeles. Stuff happens, sure, but people ‘round here tend to get along all right…for the most part, anyway.”

Conversation came easily for the pair of them for the better part of an hour; they talked about everything from their pasts, music, movies, politics, everything. Richie found her to be exactly what he’d expected of her – religious and conservative. She wasn’t pompous about it though; she didn’t put down his own views. She did challenge him intellectually, and they’d spent a fair amount of time going back and forth on the current President and state of affairs. The conversation was only interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing inside. Natalie’s head turned in that direction and she sighed; nobody ever called her until she was in a position to not speak.

“Guess I better go grab that,” she announced, pushing down on her own legs as she stood up. Richie seized an opportunity, one that caught Natalie by surprise and sent her hurtling into the pool, arms flailing and mouth wide open. When she surfaced, Richie was standing waist deep in water in front of her, laughing loudly and shaking water from his hair. Natalie sputtered a little water and splashed at him.

“I can’t believe you did that!” she gasped out incredulously. Her mouth was hanging open but curled into a smile, and Richie delighted in the way her shirt was clinging to her chest.
“I had to…couldn’t resist.”
“Well, the joke’s on you all the same. I’ve got clothes to change into. You’re stuck,” she pointed out, sticking out her tongue. She had a point, one Richie had thought about. Oh well.
“They’ll dry,” he shrugged, pulling her to him. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got spectacular eyes?” he asked, looking down at her. Natalie broke into a broad grin, keeping her eyes on his face.
“Anyone ever tell you you’ve got awful lines?” she teased.
“It’s happened once or twice. But you really do,” he said, bringing up a hand to brush wet hair back from her face. Natalie thought it a sweet gesture until the other hand came up from behind and dunked her under the water. Richie heard her yelling before she even surfaced again.

“Son of a bitch, Richie. I’m gonna kill you,” she squealed, chasing after him.