I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn’t notice they’d stopped playing until Mrs. V pointed at a chair resting just inside the double doors leading from the backyard to Addy’s music room, with a guitar resting on it.
“You know what comes next,” she ordered, clicking her fingers at her granddaughter. Then, she leaned down and picked up a tambourine, and handed it to Santana. “You, my dear, can shake that.”
Santana didn’t look like she agreed with this, but she didn’t argue it.
“Is it our normal, Nonna?” Addy called as she strummed on the strings.
What followed wasn’t the normal relatively quiet sounds that guitars usually emitted. This one was louder and sounded more electric. When I squinted, I could see a cord running from it off to the side of the room, so I figured it was plugged into an amplifier.
“Yes, cara. And now that we have our darling Santana here to help, I can play my part without having to juggle the instruments.”
Leaning in closer to me, Remy whispered, “She forgot to fuck up her English to wind Addy up.”
I hadn’t noticed that when she’d spoken, but thinking back to what she’d said, it was true. What astounded me was that Addy hadn’t picked up on it and called her grandmother out on it.
This time when Addy started playing, I didn’t recognize the song. Even when she started singing, I wasn’t sure if she’d written it herself or if it was a song by someone else.
“Van Morrison,” Remy said quietly, his eyes trained on what they were doing.
“It’s not one I recognize,” I admitted, watching Addy closely.
There was no doubt in my mind, this was her happy place—playing, writing, performing, and inspiring music. Whereas I got mine from the ranch and making sure horses’ lineage didn’t cross, creating ones that’d be plagued with health problems their whole lives, she got hers with instruments, words, and the beauty of music. I’d never even considered the impact music had on us, and that was insanely dumb because I’d experienced it with the song Thunderstruck.
Mrs. V pulling out a trumpet and suddenly playing it was a shock to the system against the peaceful and almost hypnotic sounds coming out of Addy’s guitar. The noise didn’t just jolt me, but it shook Toby, who woke up and immediately began crying, getting the womens’ attention onto where we were standing.
Still, they never stopped playing, and Toby settled down quickly.
Once it was over, I hurdled the fence, leaving Remy to make his way around the front and into the backyard via the side entrance.
“What was that you were playing?” I asked, crossing over the lawn to squat in front of Addy. Her eyes were shining, and she looked more relaxed than I’d seen her in days.
“Into The Mystic. It’s a Van Morrison song that we’ve been playing for years.” She glanced over at Mrs. V, and the look they exchanged showed how close the two were. They understood each other and had a link through music that ran deeper than I’d realized, and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t make me happy.
I was close to my family, of course I was. They were great people who were loyal and made life fun, instead of it being routine and dull. I was also close to my grandparents, but Mom’s folks had always gone out of their way not just to be family members but to be friends we could trust, too.
My grandad was a blast, even though he was nuts, and Grams kept him grounded and balanced, just like she did with all of us. I’d never really thought about it, but with the ranch, I had a link like Addy had with Mrs. V. Gramps and I could talk about it, and no other members of the family understood it fully.
I could call him at any time of the day about any issue at all—including what’d happened with Hayes—and I knew he’d stop everything to give me his time. Even as the mayor now, he was there for me. We had our own special link, just like Addy and Mrs. V.
Then with Grams, I could lean on her, and I knew she’d be there regardless of what the issue was. Her time was ours, and we’d known that from the second we took our first breaths.
“My dad used to play that to me when I was little and couldn’t sleep or had a nightmare,” Santana said behind me, and when I glanced over my shoulder, I saw her handing the tambourine back to Mrs. V with a grin on her face. “When Hart was born, and I’d have to look after him, I struggled because all he did was cry. I started playing that song and rocking him, and poof, he was out cold.”