Page 29 of Rock Strong
“Because I want to make sure you’re happy. You were mad at me last night and this morning, so it’s my duty to turn that frown upside down.”
“Liam, it’s not your duty.”
“But it is, mademoiselle,” he said, adopting a fake French accent. “When a man has saddened a woman, it is his complete responsibility to make it up to her.”
“Okay, I forgive you for last night. I just…Liam…it’s hard for me, you know. If we start seeing each other, I will need time to get used to your life. I’m not sure I’ll be able to, to be honest. Plus…”
“What? Say it.”
“If we start dating, I’m not sure I’ll ever completely trust you.” Ugh, it hurt to say that, so wrong and accusing, but it was the truth. “How can I ever know that you’re being completely faithful? How will I be sure that you’re not succumbing to pressure from your bandmates to indulge at all your wild parties?”
“Abby, right now, we’re just getting to know each other—”
“I said if.”
“Okay, and if we were to start dating,” he said, raising his sunglasses so he could see me eye to eye, “despite what happened last night, you can count on me. I would let you know first if it’s not working. Besides, there’s never any surefire way to know. That’s where trust comes in.” His eyes darkened, and he pressed his lips together in a sad smile.
I guessed so.
I didn’t love his answer, but it was the truth. There was no way to ever know for sure, just like we didn’t know when our lives would end, and I didn’t know if Yo-Yo Ma would ever grace me with his exalted presence, despite my years of hoping and praying.
We headed east on I-90 across the northern edge of Mercer Island then south along 405. Liam held my hand the whole time, and I was surprised by how comfortable I felt being with him. Hours had gone by, and I hadn’t even checked my phone. Hadn’t seen him check his either. I thought maybe people would be worried about us, though I texted Rosemary earlier that I’d be back tonight.
“Where are we going?” Call me crazy, but it felt like we were leaving the city.
“You’ll see.” He smiled.
My brain told me I should feel apprehensive, but my heart told me to shut up and enjoy this gift of attention, free tour, and amazing, rain-free day with a guy who actually treated me nicely, for once.
We exited the highway at a town called Renton and drove through some residential and commercial areas. Nothing that appeared sight-seeing-worthy, even when we pulled into a parking lot outside some iron gates. “If I didn’t know better,” I said, “I’d say we’re at a cemetery.”
Liam held up a finger. “Not just any cemetery.”
“Fear is bubbling within me.”
“Don’t let it.” He closed up the car and when we began walking, took me by the hand. This was starting to feel as if we always did this, as if I’d always known him, and at no moment, other than when the fans came running, did I ever feel like I was in the presence of the same man who led an arena of thirty thousand people in rock ’n’ roll prayer the night before. I felt like I was in the presence of a friend.
Entering the gates, I realized we were probably at the gravesite of his grandparents, but as we strolled closer to a memorial with a curved roof and steps leading to a center hub surrounded by columns, I knew it couldn’t be. I spotted the glossy, black-lacquered surface of a plaque. On it, the image of rock legend Jimi Hendrix embracing his guitar as words written in what was probably his handwriting floated all around.
“Oh, wow,” escaped my lips. I wrapped my other hand around Liam’s.
“Yep,” Liam mumbled, staring at the square center stone displaying the legendary guitarist’s name and dates of his birth and death. “The very one.”
“I had no idea this was here.”
“Most people don’t. I only know because my grandparents’ house isn’t too far from here, so when we visited, my grandfather sometimes brought me here. He was a big fan of Jimi’s. He made me a fan, too. Are you?” He side-glanced at me.
“I’m going to be honest and say that, though rock has never been my thing, I’ve heard his music, and the man was an artist with his instrument. I’ve never heard anything like it.”
He nodded, seemed satisfied with that answer, pulling me into one of those big, sudden Liam bear hugs that scooped me up and squashed me against his delicious-smelling body. My skin prickled from the contact, and I immediately felt guilty for feeling that way on such hallowed ground.
“I’ll have to play my favorite song of his for you sometime. It’s called Little Wing. Was the first time Jimi recorded using a Leslie speaker, which created those wave-like echo sounds he was so famous for. I love it.” Liam released his hold on me, except for my arm, and reached out to touch the center stone.
“Well, you’re making me a fan,” I said, loving the way he talked about Jimi and the speaker. Like a man who knew his craft. I could listen to him explain more if he wanted. “Not only of him, but of rock in general.”
He smiled at that, happy to have an effect on me of some kind. We stayed there for a while, reading the inscriptions, perusing the lyrics and background information on Jimi, until the sky overhead became overcast with dark clouds, and a swift wind blew through the cemetery, giving me an awful chill.
“We should go before it gets worse,” Liam said, leading me down the path away from Jimi. I looked back one last time at the rock legend’s final resting place, thinking how wonderful it must have been to have reached such a wide audience, to have been so deeply appreciated for what he loved to do most. There was nothing better.