13. Eddie

T here really wasn’t a feeling like this in the world, Eddie thought as he looked up from the page of lyrics he’d madly scribbled since sunrise. Nothing like hitting the hooks, capturing the emotion, and making the whole thing rhyme.

But for the past hour—maybe more, judging from the height of the sun glinting on the water—all that had happened and more.

He’d opened his eyes this morning with a chorus fully formed…

I found her by the sea,

Where waves meet destiny,

A heart I thought had drowned in time,

Now dances with the ocean’s rhyme.

It’s late, so late, but no regret,

Haven’t met my one true love…haven’t met her yet.

And from there, nothing could stop him. Beck had already brewed coffee when he’d gone downstairs and was off to pick up breakfast at the local café. He’d grabbed a cup, come out to the deck with the mostly empty notebook he carried so optimistically…and the magic happened.

Yet could be a beautiful love song, and he hadn’t written one of those in what felt like forever.

Sipping the now-cool coffee, he scanned the words again, certain phrases jumping out because they delighted him.

She watched the tides rise and fall

But never heard her heart’s call.

Wait, did tides rise and fall or go…in and out? But what rhymed with out besides… doubt ? No, too sad. This song was the opposite of doubt. It was the embodiment of hope. Something with no doubt?

He scratched out tides and scribbled “ocean” in its place. Sea? Gulf?

“Don’t let the technicalities block you, Eddie,” he muttered, refusing to hit the wall he’d been banging against for too many years.

“Talking to yourself is a very good sign.”

He turned at the sound of Mel’s voice, smiling at his daughter as she stepped through the sliding glass doors with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Good morning, my beautiful girl,” he said, waving his pen in greeting.

“Oh, that is my dad’s happy voice. Are you writing?”

“Yes. Join me.”

Beaming at him, she crossed the deck and slipped into one of the other chairs, her brows flicking with surprise at the words in front of him.

“Goodness. Haven’t seen that for a while.”

Sighing, he nodded. “I haven’t written for so long, Mel. It feels great.”

“Ready to share? Or are you still deep in draft mode?”

He cocked his head, considering the question. “This one didn’t really need a draft.” He turned the notebook and inched it closer to her. “Needs some tweaks, of course. And I’m aching for a melody, so I don’t suppose you saw an acoustic hanging around here?”

“No, but let me read.” She looked down at the page and he turned to study the horizon, surprisingly tense for a man who’d written a hundred or more songs. A thousand rough drafts that would go to the circular file. And Mel, his sweet angel of a daughter, had probably read, critiqued, then helped him with every one of those songs.

He glanced at her, unable to look away while she read, his heart wrenched with love for his girl. Yes, she was a fifty-year-old woman with silver streaks and a few lines on her face. But Mel would always be that little three- or four-year-old who didn’t have a mother and attached herself to him. His little buddy. How did time pass?—

She looked up, her dark eyes as mesmerizing now as when she’d been as a toddler.

“‘Secrets she had kept alone’?” she recited. “Dad. This is about Lovely.”

It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t bother to deny it. Instead, he shrugged. “I’m inspired.”

“You’re…more than that.”

He chuckled and leaned back. “She’s awesome, Mel. I forgot what true chemistry felt like.” At her arched brow, he flicked a hand. “Oh, I know, it’s been a while. Haven’t kissed a woman since that sweet Irish lass who recorded her fiddle album in our studio.”

“Nora? She was in her sixties, so not a lass.”

“Also age appropriate and I liked her, but…” They’d fizzled fast. “This is different.”

She eyed him. “You do seem…sparky.”

He chuckled. “I feel sparky. Like…”

When he didn’t finish, she tapped the page. “Like ‘maybe love is waiting…yet’?”

“Dumb line?” he asked. “I really want to end on ‘yet’ for the final punch.”

“I like it. These lyrics are buoyant and upbeat.”

“Exactly what I wanted.”

“And so are you,” she added, reaching across the table. “I’m happy you’re in love.”

“What? Love?” he snorted. “Slow down, missy. We just met.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Who cares, if it’s destiny?”

“And we’re in our mid-seventies,” he added with a wry smile.

“Exactly.” She pointed at him. “Time holds no sway over the love of people who are in their golden years.”

“You’ve always been such a diehard romantic, Mel,” he said. “Also, write down ‘time holds no sway’—I like that and will find a home for it.”

“I come by my diehard romantic nature from my father,” she teased, taking his pen and jotting the words dutifully. “You are the king of diehard romantics.”

“Maybe once,” he agreed. “Now, I’m a diehard realist.”

“And what does the realist say about this new romance?” she asked.

“It says…while this is a wonderful woman who touches something very tender in me, we live three thousand miles apart.”

“She can move,” Mel said, sounding cavalier.

“Lovely’s roots may be in the sand, but they are deep,” he replied. “I’m not going to pull her away from her home and family.”

She angled her head. “For love?”

“It’s merely like at this point, and I plan to make the most of what time we have left. After that?” He shrugged.

She leaned in. “You’re not moving,” she said with all humor gone from her expression. “Lark and Kai would never forgive me for bringing you here to meet your long-lost daughter only to lose you in the process.”

“Nobody’s moving anywhere?—”

“Greetings! I come bearing breakfast!” Beck’s voice floated from the kitchen, then she came out with a covered tray. “Would you like it out here in the morning sun or inside?”

Eddie rose instantly to take the tray. “Out here, and I hope you’ll join us.”

“I’ll have coffee. And refills for you? Is Jazz coming down?”

“She’s doing something workaholics never do,” Mel said. “Sleeping in. But she’ll smell the coffee and show up soon enough.”

They chatted and set up the breakfast, all laughing and fussing over what a beautiful spread they’d made at the Coquina Café.

“Jessie is a genius and so is Heather, my future daughter-in-law and gifted pastry chef,” Beck told them as they all settled at the outside table. “You met her at Savannah’s party, remember?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie said, sliding his notebook to the side. “Jessie is your childhood best friend.”

“You have a wonderful memory,” Beck said, but her gaze was on his writing. “Are you journaling?”

“In a sense,” he said, sharing a quick look with Mel. “I was working on a song.”

“He’s inspired .” Mel dragged out the word and leaned into Beck for emphasis. “It’s a, uh, lovely song.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Sometimes you are fifty going on fifteen.”

“Hey, she’s my sister. We have no secrets, as the song says.” She grinned at Beck. “Cool, huh?”

Beck lowered her coffee cup and gazed at Mel. “Beyond cool,” she agreed. “I still can’t believe I have two sisters. And a father.” She smiled from one to the other. “Thinking about it makes me downright dizzy.”

“Same!” Mel exclaimed.

“But can we go back to the song?” Beck raised a brow.

“Speaking of dizzy,” Mel cracked.

Beck looked interested. “Does it have a title, or do you do that after it’s finished?”

“It does,” he said. “For me, I can’t write a song without a title. That comes first, then usually the chorus, and I work from there. This one’s called Yet .”

“Fascinating,” Beck said, inching in. “It looks like you wrote a lot.”

“The whole thing. But it’s just poetry without a melody.” He narrowed his eyes. “If you have a guitar handy, I can do something rudimentary.”

“And then he can go down the beach and serenade the woman who inspired another song,” Mel added with a wink.

“I don’t have a guitar,” Beck said, glancing at the notebook again. “But…I’m dying. Can you share or not?”

“Let me work on it some more,” he said. “Mel’s read it, though, as my beta listener. She always sees my work first.”

“How frequently do you write songs?” Beck asked.

“It’s been a while, so I’m really happy for the breakthrough,” he said, considering how to share the trouble he’d had writing.

It was hard for people to understand how capricious the creative brain could be. But then, this was his daughter, and he didn’t keep anything from the other two. Why would Beck be different?

“I actually have had quite a dry spell,” he added, plucking the crust from the croissant on his plate. “But that seems to have changed.”

“A good woman always has that impact on Eddie Sly,” Mel said, making Eddie wince.

Beck laughed softly. “Coconut Key is known to inspire,” she said, too classy to pursue Mel’s comment.

“The song is obviously about Lovely,” he said, not wanting to keep that from her. “And if it’s as big a hit as the first one she inspired, we will all be celebrating.”

Beck frowned, looking confused. “You said you’ve had one hit, but you’ve written a lot.”

“Oh, I’ve had many songs top the charts for other artists,” he explained. “But only one that I sang.”

“Then maybe you should sing this one, too,” Beck said.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t think I have the pipes anymore, if I ever did. This one…” He angled his head toward the notebook. “Is purely as a gift to Lovely.”

The high-pitched sound of barks broke through the quiet morning.

“And she’s here,” Beck said. “She’ll be coming up those stairs right behind the pooches.”

The news gave Eddie a jolt of pleasure as he rose to meet her. Sure enough, Pepper and Basil came romping up the stairs just before he heard Lovely’s voice and footsteps.

“Holding Sugar, no doubt,” he joked as he walked to the top of the landing.

“Of course,” she replied, smiling up at him.

She looked beautiful and happy, with a gleam in her eyes, her long braid hanging over one shoulder. Having just looked at Beck, who shared so many facial characteristics, he could suddenly see the very young woman he’d met all those years ago.

The memory of her had faded over the years, but now, seeing her again, the girl he’d been with that night was, after all, burned in his memory. Same eyes, same smile, same delicate cheekbones. Time told its story on her face, but the woman inside never changed.

She never changed…

New lyric?

“You look happy,” she said as she reached the top step, a long pink skirt swirling around her ankles.

“I am,” he said, reaching out his hand to take hers. Her fingers were narrow and cool, clasping his instantly. “Good morning, Lovely.”

“Hello.” She smiled up at him, then lifted Sugar so he could give her a little love, too. “Did you sleep well?”

“Next level,” he said, drawing her an inch closer but not wanting to hug her in front of Mel and Beck. Their relationship, if it could be called that, was too new and he didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. “Coffee or tea? A scone?”

“Yes, please.” She lowered the small dog to the wooden deck and blinked in surprise at the women seated around the table. “Oh, I’m missing a sunrise party. Hello, ladies.”

They greeted her with hugs while Eddie stepped into the kitchen to get Lovely some coffee and a fresh cup for himself. There, he found Jazz inside pouring some of her own.

“Well, the gang’s all here,” he said, putting an arm around his younger—well, young est —daughter. “Morning, Jazzy.”

“Hey, Pops.” She turned and smiled. “I slept in. It was…out of this world. I still haven’t turned my phone on. I feel…untethered.”

He chuckled at that. “Welcome to life, my friend. And the foreign concept of a vacation.”

“I really thought I’d hate it. In fact, I really thought I’d hate this place and this whole state.” She lifted her coffee, inhaled but didn’t drink, looking out the window at the water. “I just love Coconut Key.” She took that sip, thinking some more, no doubt her logical mind clicking through why she’d feel that way without considering the powerful tug of emotions. “I’m in love.”

Well, that made two of them.

“It’s a very special place,” he said. “Very special people, too. Something has me writing songs today.”

“You are?” She drew back, smiling. “You must really like this woman.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he poured Lovely’s coffee and jutted his chin toward the deck. “Come join the party, Jazz.”

Outside, they all talked for a while, getting into the topic of running a B&B. Mel was fascinated by the constant flow of new people actually living in one’s home, while Jazz seemed more interested in the business end of things.

As for Eddie, he mostly sipped hot coffee and enjoyed the pure pleasure of being surrounded by strong women, including one who made his heart stop every time she glanced at him.

Where warm breezes blow…something… something where hearts go.

Lovely turned to him, a question in her gaze. She knew he wasn’t thinking about a reservation system or how frequently guests returned.

Why keep it from her?

He put his hand on Lovely’s shoulder and moved in closer.

“I wrote a song,” he said, reaching down with his other hand to retrieve his notebook leaning against the chair leg. “I wrote… Yet .”

With a soft inhale, she put her fingers to her lips, the gesture bringing the other conversation to a halt as they turned and looked at them.

There was an awkward beat of silence, then Lovely smiled. “We’re going to Key West,” she announced, getting questioning looks from everyone, including Eddie.

“We are?” he asked.

“There’s a music store you’ll love, and we can buy an acoustic guitar. Didn’t you say you needed one to really write a song?”

He had, in passing, and he was touched that she’d listened so intently. “Yes, I actually do need one.”

“Perfect. The place is called Island Guitar, and you’ll love it. More importantly, they’ll love you. A record producer!” She pushed up, that unstoppable spirit he liked on full display. “They’ll have something used, so you won’t have to spend a fortune.” She smiled at the others. “Who wants to come with us?”

“I’d love to, but I have a long-awaited video call with Oliver and errands to run,” Beck told her.

“Errands, schmerands,” Mel said. “Talk to Aussie man, then you’re going to show us around Coconut Key and take us to the most fun waterfront joint there is for some day-drinking and sister-bonding. You in, Jazz?”

“So in.”

Beck laughed, hooking her arm around both of their necks for an awkward but precious group hug. “I love that idea.”

“Hold that pose!” Lovely scrambled for her phone and took a picture of the three of them, getting a few with silly faces, making them all laugh.

As they stood to end the impromptu gathering, Eddie turned to Lovely, about to ask her to text the pictures. For a beat or two, neither of them could do anything but look into each other’s eyes. The pull was purely magnetic and the sensation was the best high he’d ever felt.

“You…” He inched closer, at a loss for words. “Are perfect.”

She gave her melodic laugh. “Far from it.” But she didn’t look away, holding his gaze. “Did you know that your eyes are the exact color of the sky right now?”

He just smiled, his fingers itching to pick up that notebook as a line of lyrics danced around in his head.

In my eyes

she sees the shore

and a life she’s longed for .

Oh, boy. He was in trouble. The good kind. The creative kind. The kind that ended with terrific music.

And a broken heart.

He just hoped that, this time, it was his and not Lovely’s.