Page 14 of Falls From Grace
She weirdly had Brynn to thank for it. That phrase, beware the fury of a patient man, dropped into her ear in that wry Californian accent at just that exact moment, when Savannah was both frustrated and finally breathing in. It had knocked the wind out of her with its accuracy. Because she was so sick with having to be patient: patient with Cole and his struggles and lies; patient at being pregnant while never quite sure if her spouse had her back; patient at new motherhood while the father of her child betrayed them; patient at being a solo parent while her once blooming career withered and died; patient at being the holder of everyone else’s livelihoods and dreams while her own were crushed. And having swallowed so much rage just to keep ongoing. Savannah had tried to bury her fury, day after day. The release was sheer bliss.
She couldn’t wait to record the song, couldn’t wait to blaze through it live on stage. She wanted to release it onto the airwaves, like a howl. See? Do you see who I am? What I’m capable of? I’m not who you thought I was. She wasn’t sure if the message was for Cole, or the paparazzi journalists, or the music critics or herself, but she was practically quivering with excitement now that she’d finally done it, to see what else she could do.
The lightness in her body was perhaps also slightly due to her unusually social morning. Bumping into a visitor during her run in the woods would normally be a mood ruiner for her; her zealously guarded alone time severed by the need for polite small talk. But Brynn didn’t seem to want or need that from her, and instead their conversation flowed in an honest, somewhat spiky manner that Savannah genuinely enjoyed. She could have done without the drug references, but as it turned out Brynn had no idea she was probing a sore spot. To her own bemusement, she cared about Brynn’s opinion of her, enough to correct her assumptions about her apparent rock’n’roll lifestyle and to let her in past her usual guardrails.
Tucker had taken to her right away, which was hardly surprising. The sight of the lanky, cool, Californian hipster sitting cross-legged on the playroom floor, patiently re-reading her son his favorite story had cracked her heart slightly. His father hadn’t stuck around to read his son stories. Her bandmates made up the bulk of her closest friends and they all liked Tucker well enough, but none - not even Coral for all she and Savannah loved each other - were really into kids enough to interact with him beyond a superficial level. Her family were… well, enough said on that subject. Rosalie - her oldest friend back in Nashville - adored him, but she was the closest thing Tucker had to real family. And as for Megan…Savannah wasn’t sure the au pair was working out. She was diligent, cautious, qualified, and kind enough, but the warmth was definitely lacking.
Brynn, however, had lit up at the sight of Tucker. For a moment, Savannah felt slightly teary: almost no one but her looked at Tucker like he was more than a job or a cute inconvenience. She had no one to rave to about her son the way she wanted to rave; there was no one else who truly saw the magic and beauty of his miraculous existence. When she grieved the loss of her marriage, that’s what hit her the hardest. She’d never once imagined loving her own child could be such a lonely experience.
It had blown her mind too, when Brynn had turned out to know nothing about her humiliating divorce. The tabloids had been so relentless, the magazine covers so salacious that Savannah went into every new interaction with a hint of defiant shame. She’d assumed since Brynn’s husband was there to help pick up the professional pieces of her personal implosion that the other woman had known all the miserable, embarrassing facts of her life.
Brynn’s generous and forthright assessment of the situation had moved her. God knows why Savannah cared so much, but the frank admiration and validation from this cool, gorgeous woman had felt like a balm. She’d replayed the moment over and over in her mind - blind, obviously - until she was convinced Brynn’s tone had been almost flirtatious. It was a while since Savannah had been flirted with - albeit innocently - and the self-esteem boost was embarrassingly welcome.
“Sounding good.”
Savannah looked up from where she’d been idly picking at her guitar to see Noah had arrived. He was smiling at her and she found herself smiling back, faintly flushing as she remembered it was his wife whose imaginary flirtatiousness was giving her a slight charge.
“Hey,” she greeted him. “I’m just messing around.”
“Sounds like the missing piece, don’t you think?” He looked bright, picking up his own guitar, strumming back to her the notes she’d been playing. “I think it's our chorus,” he demonstrated, as he seamlessly moved into the verse they’d been working on yesterday. This time, as the verse ended, they both strummed the new chords, grinning at each other. It worked. Savannah’s mind flashed almost involuntarily, to the sight of Tucker nestled in Brynn’s lap, Brynn tucking her dark hair behind her ear as she read to him. Savannah began to hum, and the lyrics started to follow.
Their afternoon session had gone well and Savannah hadn’t wanted to push it, so after awkwardly meeting Noah’s happy high-five at the door, they’d both walked away early and feeling good. The new song was melancholy with a sense of warmth and it left Savannah feeling an ache in her chest, but in a good way.
Noah was the right person to write with; she congratulated herself on her foresight. He was sensitive without being thin-skinned and persistent without being pushy. His hooks were neat and surprising and his lyrics taut. This was going to work! The excitement fizzed in her blood.
She headed upstairs to find that the playroom was empty. Megan must have taken Tucker out on a walk. She felt overwhelmed by a sense of wanting to see her child. She knew childcare was a necessity in her life if she was going to work, but entrusting her baby to a stranger was still hard for her on a daily basis. She dialed the au pair but the phone rang out. Megan was probably just busy with the child, she reminded herself not to stress. She headed outdoors to see if she could find them.
She heard Tucker before she saw him, his screams bordering on hysterical. Fear leapt in her chest and she raced towards the sound. She rounded the corner of the boat house expecting to see blood, but instead she found Tucker strapped into his stroller screaming and Megan pushing him grimly down the path.
“What happened?” she cried, kneeling down to undo the straps.
“Nothing,” said Megan, her face a little flushed. She sounded defensive. “He’s just out of sorts. He didn’t want to be in the stroller, that’s all.”
Savannah pulled her weeping son out of the stroller and into her arms, where his crying escalated and she cradled him.
“Mama’s here,” she soothed him. “I’ve got you.” Slowly his hysteria ceased, but her normally bright child stayed cradled close to her, his hot face pressed into her shoulder. “Why didn’t you call me?” she asked Megan, her voice tense. The young woman shuffled her feet.
“There was nothing wrong!” she protested. “He’s just grizzly. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Savannah drew in a breath. “Please call me if he gets upset like this,” she said, her tone clipped. “And better yet, if he gets this upset, I’d like you to try to understand why, instead of pushing on with something he clearly doesn’t want to do.”
“Okay,” Megan agreed easily enough, but Savannah wondered if she was just being placated. She let the nanny go for the day and silently battled with herself while she sat on the cold, damp grass cuddling her son. Was Tucker being cared for properly? Was this just how it felt when someone you didn’t love cared for someone you did? A constant re-explaining of boundaries? It wasn’t like Megan was unkind to Tucker, but still, she wondered.
“Oh, my love.” She kissed her son’s upturned face, drying his tears. “Mama missed you. Shall we go for a walk together? Maybe go see the ducks?”
“Yeah, ducks,” he said softly. She gently talked him back into the stroller and buckled him in, singing songs and making him smile. He was such a little trooper; it broke her heart.
“Wait,” she said. “I have another idea.”
A few minutes later, she had Tucker propped up on her hip as she knocked at one of the doors at the other end of her house.
“Why are you knocking, dickhead?” called Brynn’s voice from somewhere within. “Just come in!”
Savannah entered the suite, standing awkwardly inside the living space, suddenly feeling like she hadn’t quite thought this through. Brynn was nowhere to be seen.
“Um, hey,” she called back softly.
There was a loud crash, then a thump from the bedroom, and suddenly Brynn appeared. She was wearing a pair of small pajama shorts and a thin baby blue tank top, the outline of her body clearly evident. Her shoulders, arms and legs were all bare, sun-kissed muscles. Her hair was tousled and her expression was something of a deer in headlights. Savannah was pretty sure hers was too.
