Divided Road (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Saturday came around too quickly, and yet not fast enough. Owen’s exhaustion lifted immediately when they began playing for the appreciative crowd. He loved performing with the orchestra, but those concerts didn’t give him the same buzz.

After their first set, a dark-haired guy in his forties moved tables to sit with Rachel, and they began chatting in earnest.

Owen chugged water from his bottle. “Is that the guy Rachel was talking to at the Taniwha?” he whispered to Clay.

“Might be.” Clay shrugged. “I didn’t get a good look at him, but they both seem excited, so I’m hoping he is.”

“If my songs don’t put him off.” Owen stowed his water bottle and picked up his violin. He loved the informal atmosphere of the pubs they played. Although he was still performing, the ambience felt more intimate, especially when the audience joined in some of the popular covers they played.

“Good thing I know you’re not serious.” Clay’s expression told Owen he’d better not be.

“Umm, kind of. Maybe?” Owen ventured. If Kaci heard him voice his doubts out loud, she’d kick his arse, and remind him seven ways to Sunday how good his songs were. At least he had one fan. Although the rest of the band, and Rachel, agreed with her.

Clay shook his head. “One day, you’ll realise how much you rock.”

“Yeah, whatever.” No matter how well their gigs went, Owen’s parents always congratulated him, then followed up with a reminder that they weren’t a way to make a living and didn’t have the same kudos that classical music did.

“Ready for round two?” Hills’s manager, Ricky, asked. “Loved your first set. This place is buzzing tonight. I’ll be talking to your manager about booking you in next month for another evening.”

“Thanks,” Clay said. “That would be great. We’re loving being here.”

“No point if you’re not enjoying it too.” Ricky stepped up to the microphone. “Please give Flightless another round of applause before they start their second set. Let’s show them more of the hospitality we at Hills are known for!”

The audience clapped, and a couple at the back whistled loudly.

Clay didn’t introduce Lost this time. Instead, he turned to Kaci, and she started the beat with her sticks before Tyler joined her on bass.

As soon as Clay started singing, the pub grew quiet, their focus shifting to Owen when he added his violin to the sound.

When the final notes died away, to be followed by thunderous applause, Clay tapped the microphone. “As you’ve probably guessed, that song wasn’t a cover, but the second only performance of Lost by our own fiddle player, Owen.” He gestured to Owen to take a bow. “Our lad’s a bit on the shy side, but I think we should play another of his songs. What do you think? Do you want to be the first to hear Sorted ?”

“Hell yes!” A woman at the back yelled out. Someone laughed, and then everyone applauded.

“Guess we’re doing it then,” Clay told them. He turned to Kaci who led them into Owen’s second song, Sorted .

Once Kaci and Phil on guitar played the first opening phrase, Owen stepped up to the microphone and echoed it on his fiddle, then added another phrase, and another. Clay hummed along softly, before taking up the melody.

“Thought my life was sorted until I met you.”

“First time I saw you, I knew you were the one.” Kaci’s rich alto answered Clay. She usually didn’t sing, although she had a fabulous voice.

Owen had written this one for her and for Clay. No doubt it would fuel the rumours they were together, but they sounded great, and neither of them cared what anyone thought.

“Now I’m looking back and wondering… I’m wondering.” Clay turned to Kaci, both of them singing the next line together. “I want a future with you. Wishful thinking, or something real?”

They faded away to nothing, leaving Owen and Tyler to play together without guitar or drums, with Lincoln vamping on keyboard, highlighting the chord progressions alongside Tyler.

When they got to the chorus, several of the audience were tapping their feet along with the rhythm.

“Definitely something real,” Kaci sang.

“Definitely something real,” Clay agreed.

The rest of the band stopped playing, and Kaci and Clay repeated the last line a cappella, gradually slowing to the final note.

The audience stood and applauded.

“More!” someone called out.

“Okay.” Owen shrugged. They had one more original song they hadn’t played yet. Shit, if that went down well too, he’d have another kind of problem. He’d need to write more.

Hopefully, one of the other band members would cave and work with him. He loved composing but was already stretched thin, time-wise.

“This one’s called Patterns in the Sand , and it’s more of a ballad than the last two.” Clay stepped away from the microphone, and Owen moved closer.

He licked his dry lips before speaking. “Thanks for your appreciation.” Owen cleared his throat and focused on Rachel and the guy next to her, blocking out the rest of the room to curb his nervousness. “I hope you enjoy this song as much as the last two.”

He played a C on his fiddle and then began to sing at the same pitch. “Tiny grains of sand reflecting the patterns in my heart. Changing, lonely, needing more.”

Lincoln joined him on keyboard, playing a harmony under Owen’s solo.

“Torn between the shore and sea, drawn away, yearning to be free.” Owen’s voice steadied as he grew more confident.

“A lighthouse shines, beckoning those who dare.” Clay sang the next line, pitching his voice lower, and keeping that melody as Owen repeated the words in harmony.

“I see the light, hope in the darkness. A haven I want to believe in.” Owen picked up his fiddle and played a haunting melody in a minor key, continuing for several bars, with only Lincoln accompanying him.

“Find your pattern in the sand. Grab your future and hold on tight.” Clay and Owen sang the chorus together, Tyler and Phil joining in for the rest of the song.

“Grabbing hold of you. Stay with me,” Owen sang.

“I’ll stay with you. I’m not letting go,” Clay replied.

“Not letting go.”

Phil picked out the fiddle’s original melody on his guitar, but this time in a major key, finishing the song on a hopeful note.

When the music died away, a couple of people in the audience were sniffling. “Wow,” a woman whispered to her companion. “That was beautiful.”

“Where are you playing next?” someone called out. “Where can we find your songs?”

“Playing here again next month,” Clay confirmed. “We’ll leave some flyers here. Check out our social media, and don’t forget to subscribe for updates. Thanks for being such a great audience.”

He turned to Phil, signalling him to play the opening bar of an upbeat cover they often finished with.

When they’d finished, a couple of women approached the stage area. “Great music,” one of them said. “Can I get your autograph? You’ll be famous one day, and I’ll be able to brag that I heard those songs first.”

Clay laughed. “Of course.”

She held out one of the flyers advertising that night’s performance, and he signed it, each of the band adding their signatures.

Her companion smiled shyly. “I think it’s so cool having a fiddle player with the band. Have you always played this kind of music?”

“I play in an orchestra, too.” Owen signed her flyer too, grinning at her surprised expression. “Lincoln’s also classically trained. You should hear his Chopin. It’s sublime.” He handed the second flyer around to the rest of the band.

“Wow, and thanks, and for a fabulous night too. I’ll definitely be here when you play again. Bye for now.”

“You’ve got yourself a fan there,” Kaci said after the women left.

“ We’ve got fans,” Owen corrected.

“Well done. I knew the audience would love your songs.” Rachel came over, the guy she’d been talking to close behind. “This is Duncan Fray. His family owns Frays Vineyard in the Hawkes Bay.”

“Fray as in Frays Days?” Clay asked. “I’ve been to a few of your music festivals. They’re great.”

“Thanks.” Duncan held out his hand and shook theirs in turn. “Rachel has been telling me about your band. I love that you’ve been playing together for so long, and I loved your performance tonight. I think your band would be a great fit for next year’s festival.”

“You want us to perform at the festival?” Kaci sounded excited. “Wow. That’s awesome.”

“Rachel and I need to work out some of the details, but I wanted to ask you in person, rather than through her.” Duncan grinned. “I’m only in Wellington for a few more days, and I’m catching up with an old family friend later tonight so I need to get going. I’m looking forward to hearing from Rachel on your behalf. We also discussed a few other ideas, but I’ll leave her to talk to you about those.”

“It was great meeting up with you, Duncan,” Rachel said. “I’ll be in touch before you head back to the Bay so we have time to sort out some of the details.” She paused. “Of course, the decision to play is up to the band. I’m merely their manager and chief herder.”

“Like cats?” Duncan chuckled, his eyes twinkling. Owen liked him already. “Good luck with that. We have a few of those at the vineyard. You have my card. Phone me when you’ve made a decision. I’d love to get the contract signed by Tuesday if you’re going ahead. The festival’s popular and we like to confirm our lineup as far ahead as possible.”

Clay met the gaze of each of the band in turn, and one by one, they nodded. “We’ll do it. This is too good an opportunity to turn down. Thank you.”

“Great to hear it.” Duncan zipped up his jacket. “I’ll look forward to your call, and to hearing Flightless at the festival. Have a good evening. Bye.”

“Wow,” Kaci said. “I can’t believe it. Flightless at Frays Days. We’re going places!”

“Speaking of which,” Rachel added. “As we need to travel from Wellington to the Hawkes Bay, Duncan and I were discussing a few extra performances along the way. He has a few connections at pubs scattered throughout the North Island. How do you feel about a road trip? We could hire a van and make a thing of it.”

“Not too many stops, though, yeah?” Tyler said. “We don’t want to screw up at the festival because we’re too tired.”

“Of course not.” Rachel looked indignant that he’d thought she hadn’t considered it. “Who’s in? And if you want to think about it, that’s fine too.”

“Nothing to think about.” Clay raised his hand, Kaci quickly following, as did Phil and Tyler.

Lincoln hesitated, then raised his hand.

Owen took a moment to think through his schedule. Frays Days was in March, and the orchestra’s next concert was in May. He was owed time off work, so fitting in both felt very doable. “What about Bach?” He couldn’t leave his cat. “Al can’t take her. He has a dog, and my parents….” His parents would take the passive-aggressive route.

“Mum would love to take her for a while,” Lincoln offered. “She and Bach have a mutual love thing going on, and she misses having a cat.”

“Thanks.” Owen raised his hand. “Looks like we’re playing at Frays Days in March.”

“You’re not helping.” Owen lifted his cat, Bach, off the piano and closed the lid. The few ideas he’d had for new songs weren’t gelling,

He yawned and absently stroked Bach’s fur when she immediately settled on his lap. Hopefully, the words would flow better when he wasn’t so tired. He never had any problems finding melodies, but lyrics were another matter. Refining his rough outlines so they didn’t suck arse was only fueling his frustration.

Frays Days wasn’t until late March. They had three months yet. Owen sighed and tried not to think about how he’d lost one month already since Rachel had finalised their agreement with Duncan Fray. Composing under pressure never worked well. He’d ignore his attempts at composing for Christmas week and get back to it in the New Year.

Christmas wasn’t something he looked forward to, with his parents already reminding him of his obligation to visit over the holidays. He’d much prefer to sit on his back porch with a few beers and soak up the sun.

He loved his parents and enjoyed spending time with Al and his family. Owen doted on his nephews, but he didn’t need a couple of days of his parents reminding him he needed to focus more on his classical career rather than the choices he’d made that, in their eyes, were a waste of time, and had no future.

Wait until they found out the band was playing at Frays.

Maybe , a hopeful inner voice whispered, they’d be proud of him and wish him well .

Yeah, nah . If he was in luck, they’d voice the words, but wouldn’t be able to hide the disappointment lacing their tone.

Owen flicked the switch on the kettle and spooned some tea into a pot. He had scones in the freezer somewhere, courtesy of Aunt Dawn. He fossicked around while the kettle boiled and threw them into the microwave to defrost.

He’d just poured his tea, and was spreading jam on his scones when the doorbell rang.

Bach pricked up her ears and meowed. She tilted her head sideways, jumped onto the floor and smooched around his legs.

“You’re not getting these scones,” Owen told her, shoving his plate into the pantry. She loved anything baked and always hung around looking hopeful whenever he pulled out a treat from the cupboard or freezer.

“Coming,” he called in the direction of the doorway. Who’d call on him on a Monday afternoon? He’d swapped shifts with Jesse and worked Saturday, so he would usually be at work now.

Lincoln stood at the doorway. He was wet through, water from his hair dripping in splotches down his thin jacket. “Hope I’m not disturbing you. I went to Arpeggios, and they said you had the day off, so I figured I’d see if you were home.”

“Did you walk?” Owen frowned. “I’ll grab a towel, and I’ve just made some tea.” He hadn’t noticed it was raining, although he vaguely remembered hearing thunder in the distance some time before. “If you’d rung, I could have picked you up.”

“It was fine when I left home, and I felt like walking.” Lincoln didn’t live far from the centre of Upper Hutt where Arpeggios was, although Owen’s house was a good hour’s walk further out in Heretaunga.

“Come in.” Owen ushered Lincoln inside.

Something was definitely up. Lincoln never turned up unannounced, and his voice sounded choked like he’d been crying or coming down with a cold.

“Thanks.” Lincoln bent to pet Bach, and then picked her up, burying his face in her grey fur. She’d loved Lincoln the first time they’d met, shortly after Owen had adopted her as a kitten.

She licked rain droplets from his face and chattered to him in cat language. For some reason, she was always more vocal around Lincoln, while she only meowed at Owen when he’d shirked his duties and failed to top up her biscuits.

Owen grabbed a towel from the linen cupboard in the hallway. “Give me your jacket, and I’ll hang it up in the laundry. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

“I’m sorry to barge in on you, but I needed to talk, and you’ve always been good at listening.” Lincoln gently put Bach down and handed Owen his jacket.

“I’m always here for you.” Owen squeezed Lincoln’s shoulder. He and Lincoln had always confided in each other first before sharing their troubles with the rest of the band. Clay was always supportive, but could be a little full-on at times. Tyler and Phil had headed north to Phil’s family for the break, and Kaci was up the coast visiting her sister.

“I know, and I appreciate that.” Lincoln managed a shaky smile. “Is that your aunt’s scones I can smell?”

“Yeah. I’ll pull out a few extra for you. I have a freezer full of the things.” Owen wasn’t surprised when Bach stayed with Lincoln, rubbing around his legs. She’d need towelling down too if she kept that up. “Do you need me to grab you a pair of shorts and a t-shirt?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Lincoln bent to unlace his sneakers.

“Socks?”

“Nah, they’re dry.”

Owen disappeared into his room to get Lincoln dry clothes. Luckily, they were of a similar size. “I’ll leave them in the bathroom for you. Throw your wet clothes over the side of the bath. If they’re not dry by the time you leave, you can collect them next time.” He deliberately didn’t look back to see Lincoln’s expression. The guy was upset. That much was obvious.

Ten minutes later, a much more composed Lincoln wandered into the kitchen. Owen placed a cup of tea in front of him, and a plate of scones between them. “What’s up?”

“It’s Mum.” Lincoln slowly sipped his tea. “You know how I convinced her to go to the doctor’s a few weeks back? Just before we played at Hills?”

“Yeah.” A cold shiver ran through Owen, but he waited for Lincoln to tell him.

“We’ve been waiting on a few tests, and a scan.” Lincoln bit his lip, his eyes filling with tears. “She didn’t want me to say anything in case it was nothing. Damn it! I knew it wasn’t nothing, but you know how stubborn she can be.”

“Tenacious.” Owen used the word Beth preferred. “That trait has seen you both through some hard times after your dad….” He trailed off.

“Died?” Lincoln bent down to pull Bach into his arms when she rubbed against his legs. “I can’t lose her too. Not yet. It’s too soon.” He rubbed at his eyes, accepting the box of tissues Owen handed him. “She has cancer. An aggressive one. God knows how long it’s been growing inside her. She’s going to need surgery and chemo and….”

“You need to be there for her.” Owen guessed what was coming. “Sounds like she has a few rough months ahead.” He had to believe Beth would pull through, and not just for Lincoln’s sake.

“Yeah.” Lincoln grew quiet again. He nibbled on the edge of a scone instead of demolishing it like he usually did. “I can’t play with you in March. I need to be with Mum. I’d never forgive myself if I wasn’t there for her. If I don’t have her for much longer, I want to make memories with her and take care of her like she’s always done for me. You understand that, don’t you?”

Owen couldn’t promise everything would be okay. “Whatever you need, we’ll support you.” Shit, where were they going to find another keyboard player as talented as Lincoln. “Do you want me to tell the rest of the band?”

“I was hoping we could do it together.” Lincoln looked hopeful, and then relieved when Owen nodded.

“Of course.” Owen glanced up at the calendar. “We’re two days out from Christmas, and everyone’s away, except for Clay. Better that we tell them at the same time so you don’t have to go through it twice, yeah?”

“And Rachel.” Lincoln looked glum. “I’m letting you down. We finally get a big break, and I’m ditching you.”

“You’re not ditching us!” Owen slid off his chair and walked around the breakfast bar to pull Lincoln into a hug. “Your priority is your mum. You’d never forgive yourself if you weren’t there for her, supporting her through this. Even if she’s okay by the time we leave for Frays, there are all the rehearsals leading up to the performance. You don’t need that pressure on top of everything else.”

Lincoln rested his head on Owen’s shoulder, his body shaking with emotion. He’d always appreciated hugs and was a good guy who deserved more than this shitty mess life had thrown his way. He’d broken up with his last partner a few months back, so he had no one to call on.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You give the best hugs.”

“Don’t let your mum hear you say that.”

“I’m going to miss her so much.”

“Hey, she’s not gone yet. She’s a fighter, and so are you. Cancer is not always a death sentence. When does she start treatment?”

“In the new year.” Lincoln let out a long sigh. “I was excited to be playing at Frays. It’s like a dream come true.”

“If we’re a hit, perhaps they’ll invite us back next year?” Owen caught Lincoln’s gaze. “We’ll need another keyboard player to fill in for you, but that’s all they’ll be. A fill-in. You’re as much a part of Flightless as all of us. We’ve built up this band together. Whoever we get, we’ll clarify that it’s only for…. How long do you need?”

“Six months at least, maybe a year?” Lincoln wiped his nose. “If…” He faltered. “If something happens, I’m going to need some time to sort things out and figure out my future.”

“Do you need any financial help?”

“Mum’s got insurance, and it’s more than enough for treatment and to cover her expenses for the next year. I’m already working remotely and only going into the office once a week. They’re happy for me to do that less often if I need to. I also have a stash of leave if I need it.” Lincoln worked as a software engineer for one of the leading New Zealand banks.

“If you need one of us to sit with her when you have to go in, please ask?” Owen hesitated. “Is it okay if I tell Aunt Dawn? She’d be happy to spend some time with Beth and give you a break too, and she’s only working four days a week now.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to her after we see the band. I’m sure Mum would like that though. They’ve always got on well.” Lincoln rolled his eyes. “A little too well, truth be told.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be plotting together in no time.” Owen was pleased to see Lincoln perk up a little.

“I’m going to miss playing with you guys.” Lincoln finished his tea and reached for another scone.

“You need a break and we’re not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, but you only need one keyboard player.” Lincoln ruffled Bach’s fur.

“Come round here and jam anytime,” Owen offered. He’d always enjoyed playing with Lincoln, and their music always distracted him from anything troubling him. “You will need to take some breaks, or you’ll get burnt out.”

“I’d like that.” Lincoln chewed thoughtfully. “I might know a guy who could step in and play for you. He’s between bands at present. Want me to talk to him?”

“Sure.” Owen wasn’t looking forward to finding someone to fill their gap. “Anyone with the Lincoln seal of approval is more than welcome to audition.”

“Hopefully, he’ll be a good fit, and you won’t need to look any further.” Lincoln scratched at the back of his head. “I’d offer to help with the auditions, but I’m not sure I could cope with that to be honest.” He grimaced.

“As I said, they’re filling in, not replacing you.”

“Hope not.” Lincoln shook his head when Owen opened his mouth to protest. “Let’s cross that road when we get to it. One step at a time.” He stood. “I should get going. The rain’s stopped, so at least I won’t drown getting home.”

“Do you want a lift?”

“I think better when I walk, and I need to do quite a bit of that at present.” Lincoln gave Owen one last hug. “I’ll collect my clothes later unless you want to throw them in a bag for me?”

“Later is fine. Keep in touch, okay?” Owen followed Lincoln to the front door. “And maybe talk to the keyboard guy in the new year once we’ve talked to the band?” Any decision they made needed to be a joint one, including finding Lincoln’s temporary replacement.

“Yeah, of course.” Lincoln laced up his sneakers. “I’ve known him a while. I think you’d like him.”

Owen raised an eyebrow. “Even now, you just can’t help yourself, can you?” He was still recovering from his last very messy breakup. Two years ago felt like yesterday in many ways and he wasn’t in a hurry to go through that again.

“Not everyone’s like Deb. Brent and I still keep in touch.”

“My breakup with Mike wasn’t any easier.” Owen didn’t do relationships well, with Mike and Deb the last in a string of exes to show for it. Kaci’s theory was that Owen couldn’t shake off an encounter at a party years ago, and no one he’d been with since matched up to a dream guy who’d vanished afterwards.

“Ending a relationship isn’t easy unless you weren’t that invested in the first place.” Lincoln paused in the doorway. “If you need someone to talk to while you’re recovering from Christmas, you know where to find me.”

“Thanks.” Owen wouldn’t burden Lincoln with that this year. He had enough on his plate. “Take care, okay?”

Lincoln answered with a nod, instead of his usual “always,” and took off down the road.

Owen stood in the doorway, watching until Lincoln reached the end of the street.