Call Me Home

Epilogue

November 18, 2002

She blew out a shaky breath and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, trying once more to fight the tears that insisted on forming.

"I feel like this was a mistake. It's...it's too much. I'll go through my other stuff and swap it. I'm sure there's something in the vault I can dig out that will work instead."

"You can do it. Steph -" she shook her head, furiously fighting the surging emotions as he used the nickname for the first time in years, "Steph. I know you can do this. It's the most beautiful song you've ever written. It's going to hurt, but it's worth it. Please. For - for her."

He mumbled this last word as eyes flicked over to Matt, who sat silently filming the conversation on the other side of the room. The three of them were the only people left in the darkened home studio. The album was almost finished, due to be released in a matter of weeks. This was the last track to be laid down, recorded on the condition that the absolute bare minimum of people were present so she wouldn't have to face invasive questions or speculative whispers behind her back.

When she'd first shown him the lyrics he'd been dumbfounded. She had adapted it from something she'd written years ago, when the pain felt so much fresher. Now it took on a new feeling, a sense of gnawing grief that never really went away. They'd just learnt to live with it. It hurt in the pits of their stomachs but it felt necessary, somehow cathartic, to reopen the old wound.

"I just can't seem to stop my voice shaking."

"Then don't try. Here," He adjusted the mic in front of her and did something she didn't understand on the mixing desk. "Ok, now it will pick you up no matter what. Have you thought about taking a different approach?"

"How do you mean?"

"Don't sing. Any more than you need to. You could just...just whisper it if you have to. I'm sure it would work, the track is gentle enough."

She usually resented his unasked-for opinions. He could do what he wanted from an engineering perspective but the lyrics and the vocal style was her domain. However, she had to admit he had a point here. He'd done an amazing job on the track. And as she let her eyes find his she saw his pain, too. He wanted to make something beautiful.

"Ready? Just try it."

As the lilting rhythm filled her ears, she took another shaky breath and moved up to the filter, nose pressed almost against it. She opened her mouth and began to softly sing her lullaby, her voice audibly trembling.

Lindsey listened as the mic picked up every ragged breath, every choked back sob. She sang so softly it was as though it was never even meant to be heard by anyone. By the end she was openly weeping, silent tears splashing into her lap. They didn't need to do another take.

♾

"He's gone." Lindsey walked backed to where she was still sitting with her own thoughts. Matt had finally realised they didn't want to be filmed any more tonight. There were some moments not meant to be shared. As Lindsey had shown him out he had quietly made it clear to him that none of the footage from the night's recording was to be used in the documentary. Matt had been about to protest but seeing the anger flash in Lindsey's eyes he thought better of it. This man really would do whatever it took to protect her.

She barely reacted to him, continuing to stare into middle distance at nothing in particular.

"Hey," As he reached her he crouched in front of her lap. "It's perfect. Honestly."

She finally roused and looked down at him.

"No, it's not that. I just...I wish it was easier. Sometimes I want to shout about her to the whole world. It's different for you, I know, you've got your family now," A dark shadow crossed her face as she said it. She couldn't help but resent Lindsey when she saw him with his children, especially Leelee. That baby girl was his universe.