Then, the door’s swinging open and they step inside.
Sal blinks at the two women hovering in the center of the foyer. There’s an older woman with long gray hair, and a frosted blond with her hands clasped to her heart.
“Oh my word,” the blond bubbles, her eyes lasered on Sal. She’s practically fizzing with excitement. Her southern drawl’s as thick as honey. “Oh. My. Word. Sal.”
She takes a step toward Sal, and Sal backs up, nearly tripping over her own feet.
“Easy.”
His voice a soft warning, Luke moves to Sal’s side. When she takes his arm, Luke clinches his bicep to keep her close. Glancing up, she flashes him a grateful smile. Her legs feel shaky, from the bus ride or from nerves she can’t tell, only that she needs something steady to hold herself upright.
Seeing Sal’s distress, the blond freezes, presses a hand to her mouth. She winces. “Oh, shoot. I’m sorry.” She gives Sal a bright smile. “You’ve been gone for far too long, sugar.”
Jace moves quick to intercept the blond. “This is Emmy Lou,” he tells Sal. “My wife.”
“The human Chihuahua,” Seth whispers in Sal’s ear, and she has to bite her lip to stifle a laugh.
“And I’m Martha,” says the older woman. “Married to Mort.”
Luke looks unhappy.
Emmy Lou goes to him with arms outstretched. “I know you wanted to get her settled in, Luke, but we couldn’t wait.”
“Hello.” Sal lifts a hand, aware they’re watching her with wide eyes. Expecting her to crumble any second. A sudden flush creeps its way onto her cheeks, angry at herself for not being able to place these faces. “Good to meet you. Again, I guess.”
Emmy Lou huffs with determination. “Alright.” She hooks her arms through Jace’s and Martha’s. “We’ll get out of your hair.” Tugging them toward the door, she glances back at Luke. “Don’t you hide her away too long now, you hear? We missed her.” She gives him a knowing look. “You too.”
Then the door’s shutting behind them. Shutting out the noise. Shutting out the strangers.
Releasing a breath, Sal raises her eyes around the foyer. The farmhouse is quaint and homey. A blend of vintage and contemporary charm. Leather and wood. A vintage Victrola. A bar stocked with whiskey. It smells of lemon, of cleaning supplies. It feels well lived in and well loved.
As Luke says something in a low voice to Seth, Sal drifts down the long hallway. The wood floors creak beneath her feet. She feels like she’s forty feet up, looking down on herself. The sensation is strange, dreamlike.
Framed records line the walls of the hallway. At least ten total. A song name on each one. Sal touches the edges of black frames, touches trembling fingers to her mouth, her fascination like a gravitational pull, this spot a much-needed lifeline to her past.
Interspersed between the framed records are framed photos of the Brothers Kincaid. One photo has her leaning closer. It’s a photo of Sal, Seth, Jace and Luke at an awards show. Sal’s in the middle, her arms looped around Luke’s neck, and she’s laughing at a scowling Seth.
The thought comes sudden. I was someone who laughed. Who was loved. Is loved. They love me. These men do.
The last picture frame holds a silver CD. Scrawled across the top in black magic marker is The Brothers Kincaid. Demo #1. Beneath it—HANDS OFF, SETH! Sal squints. The handwriting is feminine. Messy. Familiar.
“You did that,” a quiet voice cuts into her thoughts.
She refocuses to see Luke leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, his dark brown eyes pinned on her.
“When we first got going with the music, you were right there with us. Helping us stuff envelopes and book gigs and label CDs.”
“Don’t forget the shitty T-shirts,” Seth chimes in.
Luke chuckles. “Yeah. Those too.” He smiles and his eyes, his expression, turn serious. “Without you, Sal, we’d be nothin’.”
Luke’s words have her shivering.
Sal tries to picture being that type of force. Throwing down longnecks with the band, unloading and loading, riding a bus. She can’t. When she searches her memory, all she gets is a black wall. She can remember pop culture, math, but nothing about herself. Not even the medical skills needed to do her job. All she knows is what she was told by Roy, and even that’s a lie.
Hot tears of frustration fill her eyes. Her body feels like a volcano trembling for an active memory. If she doesn’t get one soon, she’ll explode.
“Lot to take in, huh?” Luke’s voice is gentle and understanding. “You wanna take a walk around?”