Free When Light Breaks by Patti Callahan Henry Page B

. . . okay.”
    Unknown Souls.
    I touched Charlotte’s arm. “You ever hear of the Unknown Souls Band?”
    “No.” She tossed her curls behind her shoulder and pointed to the sketchpad. “Flowers.” Charlotte put her hand on my leg. “You okay?”
    “I think I’m getting sick . . . or something. I don’t feel all that great. Everything—like how much I love both of you—is making me want to cry.”
    Mrs. Carrington stuck her charcoal pencil behind her ear, pulled her bifocals down on her nose and looked at me. “You worried about this bouquet? You know I’ve done your baptism, your sister’s wedding, your mama’s funeral, and I won’t mess up your wedding.”
    “I know.” I hugged her. “This might be the one thing I’m not worried about.” I leaned over to glance at the sketches. “Perfect. That’s exactly what I want—except with white satin ribbon around the stems for the bridesmaids. Thank you so much,” I said. “You’re like family to me.”
    Mrs. Carrington nodded. “Tell your daddy that.”
    Charlotte laughed, then looked at me. “She has a big old crush on your daddy.”
    “You do?” I raised my eyebrows at Mrs. Carrington.
    “Oh, Charlotte, you are so inappropriate . . . I swear, sometimes I’m not sure who raised you.” Mrs. Carrington nodded toward the sketches. “Now let’s talk about what we came here to talk about.”
    “Well, more importantly,” Charlotte said, “what are you going to wear tonight?”
    “Tonight?” I unclenched my fist, raised my palms up in a question.
    “Your shower.”
    I plopped my forehead down on the counter. “Oh . . . I’m so not in the mood.”
    “Only you would not be in the mood to get gifts.” Charlotte laughed and rubbed my shoulders.
     
    My home was quiet save for the creaks and settling of the old house—a private conversation it had with itself daily. I entered the library off the front hall and sat down at the computer. I glanced at my watch—fifteen minutes before Peyton would pick me up for the shower at his mother’s house. I sat down on the antique rolling chair and flashed to the Unknown Souls Web site. Large on the flat screen, Jack Sullivan’s face appeared.
    I would have known him even without the “Jack Sullivan— songwriter” written in jagged letters underneath his picture. It was only a head shot, but his hair was still dark and curly, almost shoulder length. A small goatee covered his chin. The last time I saw him, he’d had some fuzz on his upper lip—I remembered the way it felt when he kissed me.
    I shook my head.
    I clicked on Jack’s face and enlarged the picture. He wore a half smile—“a half-ass grin” Daddy used to call that expression. Daddy hadn’t liked Jack “one little bit”—trouble, nothing but trouble, he’d said. Mama had just rolled her eyes at Daddy. “That’s what they said about you, Porter, and look at you now—aren’t you the fine upstanding husband and father.” And then they’d kiss and I’d leave the room knowing Mama would eventually talk Daddy into liking Jack. But she’d died before she could do so.
    “Be careful what you believe—it is who you are.”
    Maeve’s words rolled across my mind, and I shook them off with a toss of my head. I knew exactly who I loved and why.
    I clicked on the “About the Band” icon.
    The Unknown Souls Band was formed after a performance at a benefit for the Mended Hearts Orphanage in Texas. The public response to their music and onstage presence has been overwhelming; requests for performances continue to pour in. The band was started by the two Sullivan brothers: Jimmy, the lead singer and guitarist, and Jack, the songwriter. Five years later, the band has grown in popularity and notoriety. They have just signed their first recording deal, and their first CD was released in February with twelve original songs written by Jack Sullivan. Their unique combination of mellow rock, Celtic and blues is blowing through the music