A Song For Rory

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She saw the turn toward the restaurant, and her apartment, up ahead. His time was almost up.

“Can you... Is that something you can do?”

She swallowed, looking out the window so she didn’t have to face him. “I’m still not sure what it is you’re asking from me,” she hedged.

He didn’t hesitate in his reply. “I’m asking you to forgive me, for a start. Beyond that...maybe we could just try to talk, like we used to. I want to know what life’s been like for you the last couple of years—what you’ve been up to, if you’ve written any new songs and if you like working for your brother. And maybe it’s possible we could, I don’t know, start again?”

She chewed on her lower lip as she contemplated these words.

“Will you at least think about it?” he asked as they neared the restaurant.

Rory considered but stayed silent as he pulled into a parking space in the back alley, near the steps that led to her second-floor apartment. He cut the engine, and she suspected he planned to walk her to the front door. He’d always been a gentleman about that sort of thing. Or maybe he was trying to buy himself more time.

She tugged on the door handle and let herself out of the car. Sawyer hurried to exit the vehicle and meet her on the opposite side.

“Rory?”

She turned to look at him and felt her heart catch. Maybe he was still her Sawyer underneath, the one person she knew as well as, maybe even better than, herself.

“I’ll think about it...”

His face lit up, a smile breaking through.

“On one condition.”

His smile faltered. “What’s that?”

“I’ll tell you later. Just show up here tomorrow morning. Eight a.m. sharp, you got it?”

“You promise you’ll be here?” he countered.

She offered him a little smile of her own. “I’ll be here. Just make sure you are. And bring your guitar.”

He frowned. “Why—”

“No questions. Just come. And I’ll give you my answer after.”

“After what?”

She didn’t reply but rather turned her back and headed up the stairs to her apartment.

She couldn’t resist throwing the words down to him once she reached the landing.

“Thanks for the ride...cowboy.”

* * *

SAWYER ASSUMED THAT when he showed up at Rory’s place the next day, he’d find out what she had planned. He was wrong. She had her truck back, presumably she’d gotten it before he showed up, or else someone from the coffee shop had dropped it off for her.

Rory stowed their guitars in the small space behind the front seat before climbing into the driver’s side. When he hesitated, she waved a hand impatiently.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“Late for what?” he asked as he opened the passenger-side door.

She didn’t answer but rather started the engine, and he decided he’d better get inside the cab before she changed her mind and took off without him.

He tried asking again after they’d passed the town limits and once more when they merged onto I-95 south, but Rory only smirked. He’d just have to trust her. He decided to give up asking and simply enjoy the chance to be with her, just the two of them. Trapped in a vehicle like this, at least she couldn’t dodge his questions.

“So, tell me what you’ve been up to since you moved back to town?”

She was hesitant with her responses at first, sharing only minimal details about working in Connor’s restaurant, which had become wildly popular over the last two years, and what some of their acquaintances were up to these days. She opened up a bit more the longer they drove, and filled him in on how Connor had met Harper, the restaurant critic who’d nearly destroyed his career only to find herself working for him some time later. She caught him up on the antics of Molly, her young niece, and how Gavin, Erin and their son, Kitt, were doing since he saw them last. He noticed that she directed a lot of the conversation away from herself, instead bringing him up to date on the town and community. He recognized this as a defense mechanism, but he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to know more—about her.

“But what about you?” he persisted after she’d told him about Harper’s sister, Paige, and how she had appointed herself wedding planner. “What are you up to these days?”

She fidgeted, the cracked vinyl seats squeaking as she did.

“I told you. I work for Connor, and I live in the apartment above the restaurant.”

“But I knew that already. What else do you do? I take it you play at the Lighthouse every Friday night.”

“Most Friday nights,” she agreed. “Once in a while, I’ll skip it for a girls’ night in with Harper, Erin, Tessa and Molly.”

“No Paige?”

She shook her head. “Paige lives in DC. She drives into town fairly often to help with the wedding stuff, but she has her life in the city, with her husband and daughter.”

“Ah. You’re still writing songs?”

“Some.”

He paused. “I liked that song you performed last night. ‘Falling for You’?”

“Oh, right. Um, thanks.” She kept her eyes on the road, studiously avoiding his gaze. He’d hoped that maybe referring to a song that he assumed was about him might get her to open up a bit, but if anything, it made her even more quiet.

“It was a good song,” he said.

She didn’t respond, and he searched for another way to keep her talking.

“Are you still performing at the Independence Day festival every year?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’ve kept that up. It was...tough, that first year. Right after...”

“Oh, right.” He’d broken up with her just weeks before the festival was to take place, leaving her to handle it on her own. While he was deliberating on whether he should apologize for that or let it pass, Rory reached over and turned on the radio.

“So, still no hints as to where we’re going?” He decided to let it go and change subjects.

She turned the music up louder.

“You’ll see when we get there,” she announced over the steady rhythm of classic rock and roll.

He settled back in his seat, recognizing that Rory was done talking for now. He might as well enjoy the music. It was obvious he wasn’t going to learn anything more for the time being.

* * *

OF ALL THE places Sawyer might have guessed Rory would take him, the inner city of Baltimore hadn’t even been on the list. But when they pulled into a parking lot, flanked by a basketball court on the left and a shabby brick building on the right with a sign labeling it the Harbor House Youth Center, he assumed they’d reached their destination.