The Gunny & The Jazz Singer (Birchwood Falls #1) Read Free Page A

filigree iron balconies off each room.
Some overlooked the cemetery—he figured those room rates were probably
discounted. Who'd really want to pay to
overlook that, peaceful though it might be?
    His parents. Their graves were in
that cemetery. His heart hurt at that memory.
    Moving south on Hickory Street
angling east, he continued walking until the rest of the resort came into view.
There was a marina on each side of the Falls River joined by a footbridge, then
two more hotel buildings three stories tall on the south side with a large
green park between the marina and hotel section. Right at the corner of the
street and the river was Marietty's Jazz Club.
    In his day it had been on the other
side of town, across from Birch Park. He remembered the old club—all pine-plank
walls, the smoky interior smelling of yeasty beer and customers' cologne and
sweat. Dingy. But you always heard great music at Marietty's—rock and country
back in those days. It appeared from the sign on top of the building it now
featured jazz.
    Taking the bridge over the river,
he squeezed his eyes shut because the sight of the spot where the hardware
store had been was too painful. He turned his gaze away, balanced both elbows
on the railing, and stared into the water. Back he went, back years to his grief
and confusion.
    He'd lost his whole family in one
moment in time. There'd only been the three of them, and now he was the only
one left. His stomach knotted. He didn't know if he could stop himself from
giving in to the excruciating pain.
    Heartsick, he'd been too shocked to
display emotion during the days, weeks, and months following the accident. He'd
quit football and finished up high school in a daze. He only talked to a couple
of the guys but never about the accident or his feelings.
    Every once in a while over the
years he'd let memories through, but collapsing in sorrow and wallowing in
grief didn't help. He'd put all his focus on the Marines and the people in Iraq
and now Afghanistan whom he was supposed to be fighting for.
    Maybe coming back to his hometown
was the wrong thing to do. It would force him to remember, to go back over the
few known details of what happened that night. He'd been all alone in the
world, alone emotionally, for so long it had become his default.
    What made him dwell on that? Alone
had always suited him. The only people he'd trusted were his Marines. They
weren't here now. He didn't need anyone. Just
the truth.

 
    Chapter Three
    Phoebe was running on nervous
energy by the time her nine o'clock set started at Marietty's. Tonight was her
Al Green cover night. She'd thought about the man across the street all day,
especially after seeing him in the bookstore. On the way home, she'd stopped to
talk to a couple of her neighbors. None of them knew anything about him.
    Pouring herself into a red knit
dress that displayed a generous portion of slim thigh, a feather boa angled
diagonally across her breast to cover the nipple ring, she slid her feet into
four-inch stilettos, and did her slinky stroll onto the stage to the sound of
applause. Man, I love that sound.
    She never had stage fright. It was
her second home—maybe really her first, the one place that completely suited
her, where she was the center of attention with all eyes focused on her. And
she always gave her audience a great show.
    "Ain't no sunshine…"
    With deep, earthy tones she
serenaded the microphone, her lips pursed as if kissing it. She wrapped one arm
around her waist. Through narrowed eyes she saw him, big as life. Bigger. His shoulders filled the
entryway as he paused there. His eyes met hers. She sang directly to him, her
heart pounding, voice fraught with sensual resonance. The audience thought it
was part of the song. She had no way of knowing what he thought.
    Singing on automatic pilot, she
watched his gaze roam every inch of her, stopping at the spots he'd surely seen
this morning. Her belly tightened, and her nipples pinged with