Unexpected Harmony

8. Birds and Communication

Chapter 8

Birds and Communication

A fter three days, Aspen was increasingly antsy to leave the house, finding the walls closing in on her. It was also hard not to have seen Zoey in that time. Since the rain put a halt on the rest of the path, she hadn’t been around. Which was unfortunate because there was so much to unpack from her visit: From the secret ability to play the piano like a pro to the breakdown in the bathroom. If Morgan hadn't walked into the house, Aspen would have checked on Zoey to see if she was okay.

At the time, she had wanted to give her some peace but now wished she'd handled everything differently, especially after what Morgan had said. There was no way Zoey hadn’t heard it either. The help . When had Morgan gotten so cynical, or whatever that was? Zoey was something more.

Although, what that more was, Aspen was still trying to figure out.

She contemplated calling her at work, but couldn’t find the card, and a phone number wasn’t listed on the website. Only a contact form to email, and that wasn’t something she was going to fill out.

The sound of a truck pulling up instantly erased Aspen's itchy mood, but it slammed back when she saw it wasn't Zoey getting out of the work truck. A new set of worried thoughts rushed into her mind. Was she okay? Did she get hurt? Would she ever see her again?

The melodramatic diva she tried to keep under wraps seemed to run forward full force with thoughts of doom and destruction. She watched as Erin walked up to the house, avoiding the path that still hadn't been sealed.

When she saw Zoey's mom nearing the top of the stairs, Aspen opened the door and stepped outside to greet her.

“Hi, Aspen. I don't know if you remember me, but I worked on the initial walkthrough and quote. I'm Erin.” She held out her hand, calloused from the years working on yards.

Aspen searched the same golden eyes as Zoey’s. Erin’s hair was shorter and peppered with grey, but she had no problem seeing how beautiful Zoey would still look in twentyish years.

“Is Zoey okay?” Aspen asked. The urge to talk to her was overwhelming. She was ready to storm down the streets, although she wouldn't get very far and would probably be on the news channels.

Erin's head tilted as Aspen fidgeted under the mom scrutiny. “She's fine. I'm going to get started on sealing the stones. There should be a stretch of good weather, but as a precautionary measure, I'll hang up some tarps.”

“Is, um, is she coming back? I liked working with her.” Aspen couldn't let it go. She had to know what was going on.

“I assure you, Ms. Lake, I'm more than capable of handling the work.” Erin's hands went to her sides.

Damn, now she was alienating the one person who could help her see Zoey.

“That's not—” Aspen stopped, running her hands through her hair, trying to calm her tone. “I apologize. That's not what I was implying. Something happened last time she was here, and I just wanted to check in on her or if she'll be back at some point.” Walking further down her porch, she turned around and leaned on the rail facing Erin. “I want to clear the air and talk. She also helped me with a piece I struggled with, and I wanted to thank her. Your family is very musically gifted.”

It never hurts to compliment a mother, she thought ruefully.

There was a slight twitch in Erin’s lips. Aspen wanted to cheer but kept her face neutral.

“She wasn't planning on coming back.” Aspen's heart sank at that. “But she wouldn't tell me why. I think I'm getting a better idea of what's happening, though.” The knowing mom look had Aspen confused, but she wasn't about to interrupt. “I don't know if this is a good idea or not. She's in a fragile place right now.” Erin’s gaze hit directly in her soul, like she was dissecting each movement, and Aspen couldn’t tell if she was doing anything wrong.

“I just want a chance to explain. And to be honest, I want to get to know her better. She’s the first person who’s treated me like a regular person for as long as I can remember. I’ve forgotten how wonderful it feels to just be myself around someone who doesn’t put me on a pedestal. I’m just Aspen around her. I need to talk and clear the air. If you can help me… Please?” She held still while Erin said nothing.

“As long as you don’t hurt her,” Erin said finally, then sighed.

“No! Never.” A strand of Aspen's hair whipped into her eye, and even as she tried to rub the pain out, she continued. “I'd love to collaborate with her if she is willing. If not, I'd love to be her friend. It's been ages since I've been able to make one of those.”

The unintentional confession fell from her lips, leaving a smudge of vulnerability across her heart.

“My daughter has a lot of good qualities, but one of her flaws is running when things get intense. I think she could use a good dose of communication. Here, hold on.” Erin reached into her cargo shorts, pulling out a pen and paper. “There isn't anything about the yard that we'll need to discuss, so go ahead and head out. This is my address. Zoey is staying at our place.” She held out the paper, flapping in the wind.

Aspen approached her, reaching out to the lifeline Erin handed her.

“I think it would be good for you and Zoey to talk,” Erin continued. “This is in no way something I would normally hand out, but there's just something I can't put my finger on right now. Don't make me regret giving this to you.”

“I won’t, I promise. Thank you. Thank you so much.” Aspen was ready to tear down the steps.

“Aspen,” Erin called before she got halfway down.

“Yeah?” she questioned, turning back around.

“You might want to think about getting some shoes on.”

“Apparently, I'm determined to run barefoot outside around you Estrada women. I should probably get out of my PJs as well.” Aspen turned sheepishly back toward the house.

Once presentable and wearing functional footwear, Aspen thanked Erin once more on her way to her car. She transcribed the address from the paper to her GPS. The roads went by in a blur while she worked on centering her breathing. It wouldn't do to pass out at the doorstep.

Halfway there, she turned off the road and parked in front of a small boutique, one that displayed a bunch of unique knickknacks and smelled of conflicting candles. She figured she probably shouldn’t barge into someone’s home without a gift.

Perusing the aisles, Aspen enjoyed the privacy and discretion of the shop owner, whose only reaction to seeing her was a widening of eyes before the mask of professionalism slipped back into place.

That was one of the reasons she loved spending time in this area. Besides the few scary moments while grocery shopping, most people let her be.

“Can I help you find anything?” the owner asked after her second trip down the aisles.

“I’m not even sure what I’m looking for. What would you get for a burgeoning friendship?”

She couldn't even put into words what was happening. Friendship that bordered on flirting. Would she want to try a relationship with Zoey? Was she even ready for that? Was that something Zoey would want? How would the long-distance thing work? Whoa, there were about five hundred steps to figure out before that question could come into play.

“Do you know what they are interested in?”

A few days ago, all she knew about Zoey was she helped her mom’s landscaping business. Now she knew she played the piano. She was at an unfair disadvantage. Everyone was able to just use the internet to find anything they wanted about Aspen.

Feeling exposed, she shrugged. “Music and wildlife.” She was about to say gardening, but that didn't seem like a passion. A flashback of Zoey bent over bonding with a bird came to mind.

“I think there is a perfect thing over here.” The woman placed her arm on Aspen's elbow, which she discreetly slipped away from.

Taking the hint, the shop owner weaved around a few shelves until she reached one holding some prints. Flipping through the options, her face lit up as she pulled out a few options before handing them to Aspen.

She flipped through the first few, one of a bunch of bees and butterflies, a second one that held notes climbing along tree branches. The third gave her a genuine smile. It was the perfect image that captured music notes in the shape of a bird. “This one’s amazing.”

“Great. I can frame it for an extra hundred if you want.” The lady started walking towards the front.

“Let me look at the framing options.” Aspen didn't want to diminish the photo's elegant simplicity, but it might work.

“Sure, we've got these here. The natural wood fits with the theme of the bird, or classic sleek black that wouldn't take away from the color of the photo. Or even a floating option here.” The woman pointed out the different options. “These are more expensive but add more pizzazz to the photo.” She lingered on an intricate design that absolutely butchered and clashed with the original print.

“No, the dark natural wood, thin sides. This one, it’s perfect.” Aspen indicated what she wanted.

Just because she had money didn’t mean that spending it was necessary. She was thinking of what was best for Zoey, and she was sure simpler was better.

“It should be finished in a half hour. We have all the supplies for the model here.”

“Great. I'll go next door and check out their coffee selection. Thank you for your help.”

Forty-five minutes later, with a new print in hand, Aspen's legs shook as she walked back to her car to continue her journey. Now that the detour was over, it took three tries and a stern talking to from herself, but she finally started her car and headed to the address Erin had provided.

“You can't keep it from me forever, Cricket. Something is bothering you.” Marcus studied his granddaughter from across the kitchen, which she chose to ignore.

“Nothing is wrong. I'm excited to have a full day to spend with my favorite grandparent. Why would something be wrong?” Zoey was a master deflector. In college, she could have minored in it.

“You stay home sick after working on a yard for weeks. The only time you ever stayed home was when your appendix was about to burst in the seventh grade.” Her grandfather threw a cherry tomato at her.

“I don't recommend staying home for that reason, but really, why can't I just take a mental health day? Mental health isn't talked about enough. It's always so hush hush.” Zoey was picking a fight about the wrong things, but if he kept pushing, she knew she would crack and didn't want to. Not right now.

“You're right. I should have asked more questions about your stay in the facility. But, Cricket, this isn't really about that. You said you don't want to work on the yard anymore. You're quitting, and you're not a quitter. You haven't gotten out of that ridiculous sweater blanket. This is a cry for help.” He waved his hands up and down, gesturing to her ensemble of slippers, sweats that were three sizes too big, and a sweater blanket that went down to her knees.

“I wanted to cocoon. One comfort day before facing the world. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, but just know I'm here if you want to talk or play together. I can look over your music. Anything. I'm just here to help.”

Zoey stood to answer the doorbell that just rang, stopping to give him a hug on the way. “I know. I’d love to just hang out with you. It’s been a long time.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll be in the kitchen for a moment.” Marcus squeezed her before gently pushing her towards the door.

Expecting a delivery of some sort, Zoey was not prepared for what— who —stood on her doorstep.

Aspen stood swaying from one foot to the other, a package in her hand and a goofy smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” Zoey asked, nearly closing the door in Aspen’s face from shock.

“I wrestled your address from your mom.” Aspen's gaze traveled to the ground. “Can we talk?”

The last thing Zoey had expected was for Aspen to show up at her front door. With shock comes potentially bad decisions, which is how Zoey found herself opening the door wider and stepping aside.

“I’m going to just go change real quick. Go ahead and sit in the living room, over there,” she added when Aspen didn’t move.

“You look comfy. Don’t change on my account.” Aspen turned her direction, a shy smile gracing her face. “I got you a present. Come on, let’s sit.”

Zoey followed Aspen into the room, sitting in the corner of the sofa to keep her distance. It wasn't a bad idea to keep her comfortable layers on. Maybe she could use them as a deterrent to whatever chemistry had started to build between them.

Aspen sat, scooting a package across the space between them. “I saw this and thought you might like it.”

Zoey gasped as she took the painting from the bag. The artist had taken music notes, clefs, and a staff and brought them all together in the gorgeous image of a songbird.

“I love it, thank you.” She held it close but felt silly after a moment and placed it on the end table. “I'm going to hang it in my room,” she added but was now at a loss for words.

“I’m glad you like it, Cinderella.”

Zoey chuckled, remembering the bird she befriended. “Wasn't Snow White the one that dealt with animals, though?” she asked, even though this wasn't the question she wanted to ask.

“I thought Cinderella had birds that helped her get dressed. Dang, now I need to watch the movie again.” Aspen was cute when she frowned. A little knot appeared between her eyebrows. Zoey resisted the draw to smooth it with her thumb. “Anyway, do you mind if I just jump in and start? I've been practicing what I would say on the way here, and I don’t want to forget.”

Zoey pivoted on the couch, leaning her back against the armrest and sitting crisscrossed to see Aspen better. “You have the floor.”

“There are a few things to discuss from a few nights ago. I'm a big fan of communication, so this disappearing act doesn't work for me,” Aspen began.

Zoey sat up straighter, wishing now she had changed. This wasn't how she’d imagined the conversation going, and she couldn't help but respect Aspen for standing her ground. “I do apologize for that. I?—”

Aspen held up her hand. “Hold on, let me finish, please.”

Zoey reached behind her to grab a notebook. Sometimes it was easier to concentrate on what people were saying when she could do something with her hands. In this case she was doodling on a blank page.

“I’m afraid you may have heard the rude and obnoxious comment from Morgan. I'm not sure where that came from, but I apologize for her tone and am going to talk to her about it. I wanted to see if you were okay. You looked upset after playing the piano, and I didn't get a chance to check on you. I hope you know I don't think of you as the help, and I hope we are working our way to friendship?” She said it like a question, but Zoey stayed quiet, assuming there would be more. “And then that brings us to today. I was looking forward to talking with you, and your mom said you weren't planning on returning. As someone who values commitment, I truly hope clearing the air today will help bring you back. You're doing excellent work, and I enjoy our time together.” Aspen stopped talking to catch her breath.

“Is it clear for me to speak now?” Zoey playfully asked.

“I suppose I can let you have the floor in your own house.” Aspen leaned back, her eyes sparkling with what looked like relief.

“Yes, I did hear Morgan. It was a combination of things that night. I hadn’t played the piano in a while and was feeling raw and vulnerable, then to hear what she said, I just felt I needed to protect myself. Thanks for noticing I was upset. And coming here to clear the air.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Aspen asked, reaching over to squeeze her knee. The contact felt pleasant but fleeting.

“Not yet. It’s a bigger story, and I’m not ready to share.” Zoey picked at the lint on her sweater blanket.

“I can respect that, but I hope someday you'll trust me to tell it. I like you, Zoey.” She kept it there. Something they didn’t have to define right now.

“As for what Morgan said, you don't have to apologize,” Zoey said. “It wasn't you, and I actually get her side of things. She walks in, and this grubby landscaper is hanging out in your house. I know I was invited, but I do think she only was protecting you. Yeah, her language wasn't very PC, but that's not something you need to be held accountable for.” It was her turn to squeeze Aspen's hand from across the couch. “And the last point. When I get overwhelmed, I run. It's not a great trait, but I'll have to work on it. It's wrapped into point one a little, and maybe someday you'll get the full story, but for now, let's just say I'm sorry I bailed, and if you'll have me back, I'll start again tomorrow.”

Zoey held her breath, unsure why it felt like she was taking a chance even after Aspen had made the first move.

“Okay. Good, great. I know where you live now, and your mom is on my side, so yes, I’d love to have you back.” Aspen winked. “There was one other thing I wanted to ask. I realize it might be a big one, and if you don't think you can handle it, please don't feel obligated.”

Zoey gulped, having no idea where this next part was going. “Go ahead and ask. The worst I can say is no.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to collaborate on a few songs with me. The work you did the other day was inspiring. But I completely understand if it's too hard to play the piano.”

“Cricket not being able to play the piano? That will be the day I keel over.” Her grandfather walked in with a tray of lemonade. “I bring gifts for you and your friend.”

Zoey's eyes slammed shut as she unsuccessfully tried to keep a blush from sweeping over her face.

“Aspen, this is my grandfather, Marcus. Grandfather, this is Aspen Lake.”

At the same time, Aspen reverently said, “Mr. Estrada.”

To Zoey’s shock, Aspen launched out of the chair, waiting while Marcus put the tray down before vigorously shaking his hand. “I'm a huge fan of your work.” She turned to Zoey, her eyes wide enough to see the white all around. “Holy shit, you're Marcus Estrada's granddaughter? No wonder you can play so well. I didn’t put together your same last names, because what are the chances?” Turning back to Marcus, her excitement was boundless. “I seriously have all your albums.”

Watching a famous singer fan-girl over her grandfather was surreal, hilarious, and adorable all wrapped up in an awkward moment.

Her grandfather's eyes twinkled behind his stylish, wide-rimmed glasses. “So, you'll collaborate with Aspen. I think it would be good for you.”

Zoey sighed dramatically. Maybe it would be good practice. Plus, having someone else there to pull her out if she got too deep would be good. She'd definitely check in with her therapist about it, though.

“Are you free after I finish the yard for the day?”

“Perfect.” Aspen whooped, unable to contain her excitement. “Thanks for listening and talking with me. I should get out of your hair. Mr. Estrada, seriously, it's amazing meeting you.”

“Please, call me Marcus.” They shook hands while Zoey stood up, ready to walk Aspen to the door. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for lemonade? It’s a family recipe, and damn refreshing if I do say so myself.”

“Okay, you twisted my arm. I’d love to.” Aspen's smile was awed as she received a hug from Marcus.

After sipping on lemonade and watching her grandfather and Aspen trade work stories, Zoey watched Aspen struggle to tear herself away from the comforts of the living room. Zoey tried not to think about how well she fit into the family.

At the door, both Aspen and Zoey hovered. “I’m excited to collaborate with you,” Aspen said, standing close.

“Me too. I want to set your expectations, though. I’ll try, but don’t want to promise anything I might not be able to keep. If it gets too overwhelming, I’ll have to stop.” Zoey hated having to say the words, but didn’t want to set them up for failure.

Aspen’s eyes softened. “We’ll just have to keep communicating. If it’s too much, I won’t get upset. You’re more important than work.”

Relieved, Zoey smiled. “Thanks for having the guts to stop by and clear the air.” She leaned in for a side hug but instead received a two-armed bear wrap from Aspen. All the tension she'd felt the past few days slinked to the floor.

When they broke apart, Aspen didn't say anything, just sent her a shy smile before turning and wandering down the porch.

Back in the living room, her grandfather gave her a knowing look. “That woman will change your life.”

“Don’t remind me.” Zoey groaned, picking up one of the leftover drinks.

“Change isn’t a bad thing, Cricket. I think this one will be surprising. Just be ready to receive whatever is coming your way.”

With the nugget of grandfatherly advice, he left the room humming a tune as he went. It wasn't until a few moments later that Zoey realized it was one of Aspen's latest songs.