Page 20 of Tracing Holland

I swallow, managing only a quick nod.She is.

“You’re turn,” she chirps suddenly.“You play something now.”

I stare at her in disbelief.“Huh?”

“Um, yeah.All you, rockstar.”

She jumps to her feet and hands me the guitar.I instinctively take it, but can’t imagine doing something as intimate as play a song for another soul a couple feet away.I can play a live broadcast in front of millions without breaking a sweat, but this…

“Maybe another time,” I say, oddly embarrassed.

“What?No!Please?Just something quick!Doesn’t have to be fancy.I have to hear this girl the way she’s supposed to be played!”

“You just did!You’re a fantastic guitar player.”

She rolls her eyes.“Oh, come on.I’m fine, but everyone knows very few can touch you on that thing.Please, Luke!When will I ever have a chance to watch Luke Craven play a 1943 Gibson J45 two feet away?Don’t make me beg, because I will, then hate you for it.”

I can’t stop the shy smile and shake my head.“Ok, ok.Fine.Geez.”

She actually does look relieved when we switch spots so I can sit this time.I’m still hesitant, but starting to feel more comfortable now that I have a guitar in my hands.As I search my head for what to play, I can suddenly think of only one song.I haven’t played it in ages, but it was one of the first I’d mastered.I’d learned it as a child, then embellished on it over the years, almost turning it into a different piece.My father used to play it all the time, and to this day, I don’t know if he wrote it, or it was just a lesser-known favorite in his repertoire.Either way, it always held a special place in my heart.

I start picking out the elaborate intro, almost classical in its styling, and let my fingers and instinct takeover.Nothing else matters when I play, and I forget all about the awkwardness of the close quarters, even the beautiful woman staring at me in awe a few feet away.It’s just the music and I, my father, memories of the few brief moments of happiness sprinkled throughout my painful life.I wonder if my face looks like Holland’s had a few minutes ago.I don’t dare to look at her to find out.

I sing a few verses of the song, adding to the turns like I always do, playing with each chord, each note, like it might be possible to discover a new one this time.I never do, but I’ve combined enough existing ones in unique ways to at least create new experiences, new progressions that still give me chills when I find that perfect combination.This is my home, these moments, and the only time I feel safe, like I’m actually ok.

The shyness returns as the song comes to an end, and I clear my throat with an awkward smile.I realize I’d gotten wrapped up in the moment and wonder what she must think of me.I rise from the bench without a word and return the guitar to its case so I don’t have to look at her and confront her reaction.

“That was beautiful, Luke,” she says quietly behind me.“What was it?”

I swallow and snap the latches on the case.“I don’t know exactly.Something my father used to play all the time.He called it the ‘Sorrow Song’ but I’m not sure why.”

“It’s amazing.You’refreaking amazing,” she adds, and I have no choice but to look at her now.I almost wish I’d risked rudeness at the expression in her eyes.

“Thanks.I’ve spent a lot of hours fooling around on a guitar.”

“That’s pretty obvious.You’re mind-blowing when you play.Like, seriously, remarkable.I guess the rumors aren’t exaggerated.”

I feel the heat start to rise in me and have to look away again.“Well, let’s hope some of the others are,” I joke, trying to deflect the attention and lighten the mood.

I’m pretty sure she knows what I’m doing, but lets me go with a grin.“I guess we’ll have to see.”

“Luke.”

“Callie.”

We exchange a smile at our signature greeting.

“Is this seat taken?”she asks, setting her plate across from me.

I smile.“Does it even matter?”

She grins back.“Nope.”

I shake my head and motion for her to sit.

“Where’s Case?”I ask, and snicker at her annoyed grunt.

“Who knows.He was in the back working on Penchant stuff when I left the bus, so I doubt we’ll see him until call-time.I just hope he at least takes a shower and eats something,” she mutters.