Pregnant by Morning(60)

Still, Monte Carlo was beautiful. Outside the window of her room in Nicola’s high-rise condo, the city unfolded in a myriad of lights, energy and people, generating an exciting vibe that spilled out into the Mediterranean via the hundreds of yachts lining the shore.

Alone time was good. She’d come here to feed her newly awakened muse. Now she had plenty of time to see what new brilliance flowed from her fingers.

But instead of reaching for the paper and pen on her bedside table—which had sat untouched for two days—she retrieved the printed page from under her pillow and unfolded the song she’d written in Venice the night she’d fallen asleep on the couch.

She’d probably read these words a hundred times now. The theme of connection ran through every line. Of course, because she craved it. Losing her voice had been devastating because it was the link between her and the listener.

But the song spoke to a different kind of connection. One between people, but deeper than the superficial link between a singer and a fan. It was about bonds, family. Things she’d never had at any point in her life, but somehow the right expression had come from her soul.

Because Matt’s soul spilled over into hers with his strong sense of unity, goodness...and now she was crying again. How could she have gleaned so much from his depths when he’d closed himself off? It shouldn’t be possible. But the evidence was on the page.

It was definitely a good thing she couldn’t sing this. She’d never get through the whole thing without breaking down. Sara Lear would do the song justice, and it would be a nice hit for her already-stellar career.

Why couldn’t she imagine Sara singing it? Professional jealousy? Probably.

She read the words again. She had to let go. This was part of moving on, something she must find the strength to do. Her voice was gone, but she had a baby on the way. One day, she’d like to look her child in the face and be able to say I overcame a huge struggle. You can, too.

One day, she’d like to tell Matt how he’d helped her realize she was more than just a voice, more than Eva. She still had something of value to give.

The song was proof.

All at once, she knew why she couldn’t imagine Sara Lear singing this song. Sara didn’t need a hit song writer—she had plenty of those barking at her door. Evangeline hadn’t written this song for Sara, but for someone else entirely.

And now was the right time to give it away.

Before she could change her mind, she picked up her phone and dialed. “It’s Evangeline. Your sister.”

Family.

What had started as a simple phone call was actually much more profound. Her heart hadn’t just been opened to Matt, but to a whole new world of connection. Even though he’d devastated her, he’d also introduced the wonders of permanence, longevity—all only possible if she allowed roots to grow.

“Hi.” Lisa’s surprise came through the line clearly in the one short word.

“Sorry to call you with no warning.” How did you build a relationship from scratch? Start slowly or jump in with both feet? “I’ve been going through a tough time and I wanted to apologize for losing touch. Can we start over?”

Maybe somewhere in the middle, then.

“I’d like that. How are you? Your voice is different.”

Evangeline chuckled. “The surgery messed it up. Listen, I wanted to ask you. Are you still singing?”

“Yeah. At school, we have a vocal group. I do that and karaoke on the weekends. Nothing that’s going to get me noticed, but Dad said I can record some demos after graduation.”

Dad. Her stomach twisted at the label Lisa so easily gave the man who’d done nothing more for Evangeline than donate sperm. But this was part of letting go too, and nurturing those fledgling roots instead of chopping them off at the source.

“I have a better idea. I wrote a song for you. I’d like to hear you sing it, and then if we both agree it’s everything I hope, I’ll book you a recording session with my former producer. He’ll lay it down right.”

“Omigod. Are you serious?” Half of Lisa’s sentence came out a squeal. “You wrote a song for me? Why?”

A million different throwaway responses rose up, but this was about forging a new direction and exposing the deepest parts of herself. About living up to the bravery Matt had seen in her.

“I’m branching into a new career. As a songwriter. I expect I’ll write quite a few songs. Who better to write for than family? If we work really hard and are fully committed, the partnership can launch both of our careers.”

Committed. It had a nice ring to it. She’d had precious little commitment to anything and expected it to drop a weight on her chest. But instead, the idea of collaborating with her sister, long term, carried the most intense sense of peace.