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  Out of Rhythm

  A romantic novelette

  by Molly Taggart

  © Copyright 2013

  Chapter One

  “Checkmate!” announced the eight-year-old boy, grinning broadly at his father.

  “What?” Jeb tapped back his worn, tan cowboy hat. A single blonde lock escaped the hat and curled onto his forehead. Jeb’s new bride Shannon teased him for always wearing his old Stetson in the house, but he couldn’t help it. There was something comforting in the familiar weight of that hat, like the presence of an old friend.

  “It’s checkmate,” repeated Fletcher as he pointed to the chess board.

  “Nah…no…I don’t…oh…yeah. Yeah, I see. Damn, son. I mean, darn.”

  Fletcher flicked his dark brown bangs off his forehead and laughed.

  Jeb turned and looked at the other end of the window bench, where Shannon was playing a game of Sorry with his six-year-old daughter Mary Ellen. His wife was as deeply engrossed in the game as his daughter. Shannon played it with the determination and liveliness with which she tackled everything. Jeb and Shannon had now been married just under two months. They were getting by these days mostly on the dregs of Jeb’s country songwriting royalties and his private music lessons. Shannon put her childlike delight to use as a part-time preschool teacher. Teaching such little ones didn’t pay much, and Jeb’s royalties were erratic. They were fortunate to have a mortgage-free house, which he had bought off the proceeds of his only hit song, “Tender Tennessee.” He’d written that ballad for Fletcher and Mary Ellen’s mother, years before she left him for another man. Even after the divorce was final, he and Sarah tried one last time to reconcile for the sake of the kids, but they’d been like unrhymed couplets, out of meter, clashing on a blank page. Shannon, though, had burst into Jeb’s life like a thunder clap, raining down on his insecurities and washing them away. She’d loved him for who he was, instead of trying to force him into a template that was designed for some conventional man.

  “Let’s practice some piano, son,” he told Fletcher.

  “Do I have to? Dad, I don’t really like piano.”

  “You don’t have to like it. But you’ve got a natural talent. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t force you to develop it?”

  Lately, Fletcher seemed unwilling to buckle down and commit to anything, whether schoolwork or soccer practices or piano. Jeb didn’t blame him. After all, he and Sarah hadn’t remained committed to one another, had they? And what more important commitment was there than marriage? Despite Sarah’s cheating ways, Jeb knew she wasn’t one hundred percent to blame for their crumbled marriage. He’d tried; God knows she’d tried, too, but the counseling wasn’t enough. Eventually he and Sarah had both agreed it was time to pick up the pieces of their hearts and move on. The fact that the split was somewhat amicable, or at least civilized, didn’t lessen Jeb’s guilt any. He felt like a failure as a father.

  “Daaaad!”

  “Come on.” Jeb stood up from the window bench. The afternoon sun scattered like a spider web throughout the narrow room, thin beams of yellow glinting off the black piano in the corner. “Give it six months, and if you still don’t like the piano, I won’t force it, but I won’t let you just up and quit without at least tryin’. Some things just don’t work out. I know that. And that’s okay. But a man’s got to try.”

  Fletcher sighed, stood, and followed his father over to the piano. While they played on and off, Jeb reassured his son that he was going to remain deeply involved in his life.

  “Dad?” asked Fletcher, his fingers slipping from the keys, his last note drifting into the silent spring breeze that blew in from one of the open windows. “I want to live with you. I don’t want to live with Mom. Can I just stay here?”

  “Uh…” Jeb peered back at Shannon, who was still perched on the window bench, legs crossed, playing Sorry with his curly-haired daughter. “Listen, Fletcher, there’s nothin’ I’d love more than for you to live with me, but your mamma has legal custody, and there’s no way we’ll ever split up you and your sister, and—”

  “–Of course!” Fletcher slammed the piano’s cover shut, almost hitting Jeb’s fingers before he could pull them off the keys. “That’s what I thought you’d say!” The boy stormed out of the sunroom.

  Jeb followed his son, and about twenty minutes later he returned to the sunroom. “Fletcher’s watchin’ a show in the livin’ room if you want to join him,” he told his daughter.

  When Mary Ellen slid off the window bench, Jeb sat beside Shannon. “You heard some of that?”

  Shannon’s silver-blue eyes looked unusually solemn as she answered, “Yes.” Behind her left ear, she tucked a strand of hair, which was a full shade lighter than Jeb’s own dirty blond.

  “Well, there’s no way Sarah’s gonna give up custody without the kind of fight I would never drag them through,” Jeb continued, “and I think it’s best they stay with their mother during the school year anyhow, but how would you feel if they stayed with us during the summers? All summer? I think I can get Sarah to agree to it.”

  Shannon nodded quietly.

  He looked down. His shame must have been apparent in his face, because she put a hand on his hand and said, “You’re a good father. Fletcher knows that. Not as much as he’ll know it when he’s grown up, but he knows it.”

  Jeb rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “It doesn’t matter if I’m a good father. His home’s tore up. Tore up. And he’s gonna carry those scars the rest of his life.”

  “Jeb, we all have scars.” She reached for his cheek. He could feel his eyes growing moist. “But you’ve tried your best to be–”

  “–No, Shannon, don’t,” he said. “Just don’t.” He stood and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers to make sure no tears had actually fallen and then took a shaky breath. “I’m gonna go watch the movie with ‘em.”

  Chapter Two

  "To new beginnings," said Jeb, raising his champagne flute to Shannon and toasting her across the soaking tub. After Fletcher and Mary Ellen were sound asleep in the guest bedrooms, Jeb had surprised Shannon by calling her into the master bathroom. A bubble bath, illuminated by the dancing flames of a dozen votive candles, had awaited her. She’d smiled to see the happy light in Jeb’s expressive hazel eyes. This evening’s cloud of remorse seemed to have passed from his handsome features.

  She now leaned back against the cool porcelain of the tub and rested her right arm across the brown-and-tan stone rim while using her left hand to bring the flute to her lips. The sweet bubbles of the champagne tickled her tongue even as the soap suds tickled her bare breasts. She sipped and said, “This is indulgent.”

  "Well, Gather ye rosebuds while ye may."

  Before meeting Jeb, Shannon never would have thought that English poetry quoted in a southern accent could be so charming, but his voice was like velvet. She stretched a leg out on the other side of him. He reached down into the soapy water and grabbed her ankle. "What's that a line from?" She knew he secretly loved to be asked about his quotes, because his ex-wife had often been embarrassed by his poetic flights of speech. Shannon had at first faked an interest in poetry, but as the weeks and months went by, her interest grew more and more genuine.

  "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time,” he said. “Robert Herrick."

  She pulled her foot out of his hand and slid it gently between his legs.

  His eyelids fluttered shut and then open. "Darlin', don't tease."

  "You said you don't mind teasing as long as there's a payoff."

  "Is there gonna be a pay off?"

  Shannon pulled her foot away, put her champagne glass down on the stone next to one of the lit candles, and stood. The water shifted in the tub, and gli
stening droplets weaved their way down the voluptuous contours of her nude figure.

  She took a step out of the tub onto the first of the two stairs leading down. Shannon grabbed a soft towel from the rack and descended the other step. "What do you think?" she asked as she turned and began slowly and suggestively drying herself.

  The water level in the tub descended suddenly as he rose. Shannon wrapped the towel around herself and began to make her way to the bed, knowing he would follow, but she stopped to check her hair in the mirror above the double sinks. She felt his hands on her hips and saw his eyes in the mirror. The light amber flecks in his irises darkened and melded with the surrounding brown. He hadn't bothered to wrap a towel around his waist. Droplets of water traced the muscular lines of his chest. She watched his reflection as he bent and kissed her neck. He moved his lips to her ear. "Put your hands down on the vanity."

  She did as he ordered. "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may," he murmured, loosening her towel and slipping it unhurriedly from her body. "Old Time is still a-flying..." He slid a hand from her hip across her lower back. “And this same flower,” he recited as his fingers eased between her thighs, “that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying.” He began to caress her into neediness. “The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,” he breathed as he pressed against her, “the higher he's a-getting." He eased her legs gently apart. “Then be not coy- ” His last word spilled out in a deep groan.

  Shannon shuddered forward and knocked over the cup that held the toothbrushes.

  "Steady." He clasped her hands and pressed them down against the vanity. "Be not coy,” he repeated as he moved slowly and deliberately, “but use your time…"

  "Oh, God…Jeb…please…"

  "Darlin'." The endearment was a low moan. "Oh, Shannon…God, woman…You make me forget the rest of the poem."

  *

  “That was unexpected,” Shannon said later when they were curled together in bed, her head resting on his chest.

  “Yeah. Right,” Jeb replied. “You didn’t expect that. You were just stoppin’ to check your hair in the mirror.”

  “Actually, I was.”

  “Really? I thought you wanted me to…uh…right then and there.”

  She laughed.

  “Uh…but you enjoyed, yes?”

  She kissed his chest. “Yes.” She snuggled in. He was beginning to do that jerking dance he did when he was falling asleep. “Jeb?” she murmured.

  “Hmmm?”

  “I’m sorry I’m not making much right now. You said to do what I love, but I feel bad…”

  He opened his eyes and looked down at her, tenderly. “I love you, Shannon. You know I love to see you happy, and working with those kids makes you happy. Don’t feel guilty ‘bout it, darlin’. Please.”

  She smiled. “I deserve to be happy, don’t I?”

  “Who the hell cares if you deserve to be?” Jeb rolled on his side and urged her to roll with him. He draped his arm around her waist and shut his eyes. “Carpe diem. Life throws us all crap sooner or later. So gather ye rosebuds while ye may.”

  “Becky said marriages have a better chance of surviving when you share the same values and life philosophy.” Becky was Shannon’s older sister, and the woman routinely dispensed unsolicited advice. The fact annoyed Shannon, but the truth was, she secretly valued her big sister’s guidance and wished she had followed it sooner in life. She took his hand and kissed it. “I like your life philosophy.”

  “Hey, now, that makes me think of something I can put in a song.” He leapt from bed, pulled on his blue jeans, and grabbed his acoustic guitar from the corner of the bedroom. Then he took a pen and yellow legal pad from the drawer of his nightstand.

  Shannon sighed. She was not going to have his attention for a while. When he was writing, Jeb got lost in the words, and when his process was interrupted, he could be a tad irritable. So she got dressed in her pink flannel PJs and grabbed a Highlights magazine from her own nightstand. Her tiny students needed a good short story for school on Monday, and she was determined to find one. If he was working, she might as well be working too.

  Chapter Three

  “Mom’s here,” announced Fletcher as he grabbed his backpack on wheels and pulled it towards the door.

  Shannon got to the door first. She had decided to return Sarah’s condescending over-politeness with a little over-politeness of her own. She greeted Jeb’s ex-wife with a false smile and invited her inside, but Sarah insisted on remaining on the front stoop. When Jeb approached, Shannon stepped aside and hovered just behind him.

  “Fletcher and I were discussin’ somethin’ this weekend,” Jeb told Sarah. “I want the kids for the summer. All summer. That a’ight?”

  “The kids are starting a new school next year,” Sarah answered with a tight smile. “They’ll need to use that time to go to play dates and other events so they can make friends before they start school.”

  “Mom! Come on! Pleeeeeease,” Fletcher begged.

  “Fletcher, honey, the trunk’s popped,” Sarah said to her son. “Go on and put your bag in and help your sister with hers. Wait for me in the car.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Shannon waved to the kids as they left, but she still lingered in the foyer behind Jeb.

  “Listen, Sarah,” Jeb said, “Fletcher really wants this. I want this. Mare is fine with idea.”

  “You talked to them before you talked to me?”

  Usually when Sarah said something like that, Jeb retreated. Shannon knew he had been a different man with Sarah than he was with her. He allowed himself to fight with Shannon because she put everything up front, while Sarah always seemed to have something hidden under the carpet. If Jeb began beating at the bulge beneath the rug in an effort to get the thing out, Sarah would still pretend it wasn’t there and simply look at him as if he were crazy. Yet now, to Shannon’s surprise, he asserted himself: “Sort of like you decided to enroll them in a new private school before you talked to me?”

  “That’s different - ”

  “- How? Because you’re the only parent who matters?”

  Sarah’s tone was one of forced politeness. She wasn’t going to get mad because that might give Jeb permission to get mad. “There are summer activities,” she said, “and surely you agree it would be better for the kids to pursue those activities in the community where they’ll be spending their school year so that they can make friends and have an easier adjustment. You’re a good father, Jeb.” Sarah smiled at him sweetly, too sweetly, Shannon thought. “I’m sure you appreciate how important that is. You’re welcome to them for an extra two weeks this summer in addition to your every other weekend.”

  “Just two weeks?”

  Sarah patted Jeb’s chest. “You’ve made a good decision. Two weeks is a good compromise.” She turned and began to walk to the car.

  “Sarah!” he called after her. She turned, visibly surprised that her pronouncement hadn’t ended the debate. “I’m their parent too,” he said. “And I want them for the whole summer. Fletcher wants it too. He and Mare are gonna stay with me this summer.”

  “Jeb, I know you appreciate that’s not a wise choice.”

  He opened his mouth and shut it. He licked his lips. “I’m their parent too.”

  Shannon thought it was a good thing Fletcher and Mare were already sitting in the car and therefore couldn’t overhear this fight.

  “Yes…” Sarah’s voice was calm yet thin. “But I’m their custodial parent.”

  Jeb clenched down hard on his teeth. “We both decided that was best for them,” he said, “but given you were the one who had the affair—”

  Sarah took four quick steps back to the door. “You don’t want to contest the custody arrangement, Jeb,” she cautioned. “You don’t want to drag these kids through the courts again. I know you don’t. And if you do, if you ever try to take my kids from me, you know I can bring up some things from your past. You know what I’m talking about.”

  Maybe Je
b knew what she was talking about, but Shannon certainly didn’t. She and Jeb had talked for hours before they even shared their first kiss, and then for many more hours before they ever slept together. She didn’t think her new husband had any secrets from her. These dark hints from Sarah disturbed her.

  “Of course I don’t want to drag them through the courts again,” Jeb agreed, not even noticing that Shannon still stood a little ways behind him, listening in on the conversation. “I want what’s best for them. I wouldn’t do that. I’m just tryin’ to make a point. I’m tryin’ to be a good dad here, Sarah. Fletcher and I haven’t been connectin’ lately, and this is a chance to connect. You say you want me in his life. You claim that. Well, this is what it’s gonna take. Or are you tryin’ to draw me out of his picture?”

  “I wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t do that!”

  “Then why are you actin’ like you want to?”

  Sarah sighed. “Very well. Fine. I’ll seriously think about it.”

  Jeb appeared temporarily stunned by her concession. “What?”

  “You do have a point. I’ll give it some thought.”

  “A’ight,” he said. “I’ll call you next week to talk about it.”

  Sarah nodded. “Bye, Shannon,” she said before turning and walking to the car.

  Jeb jumped a little at the mention of Shannon’s name. He’d clearly forgotten she was there. He turned and swallowed. He’d told her once that when she was angry, the silver flecks in her eyes seemed to solidify and eat away at the blue irises. By the fearful look on his face, Shannon could only assume that her eyes were a sea of silver at the moment, and well they should be. What lies had he told her?

  Chapter Four

  Jeb eased into bed and slid an arm around Shannon. He tried to urge her back against his chest, but she remained stiffly in place. After Sarah had left with the kids that afternoon, Jeb had immediately fled the house to give a series of piano and guitar lessons. They’d had no chance to talk. Shannon, hoping sleep would overtake her worries, had turned in early, but for the past ten minutes, she’d been lying awake in the dark.