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I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style,

And so I came to see him, and listen for a while.

Emma was running late.  Ashley, her sitter, had car trouble on the way over, and while Henry insisted that at 10, he was old enough to stay by himself, Emma didn’t have quite the same trust in humanity that he did.  So now she was at least fifteen minutes late to meet Ruby at the Bluebird.  She had met the girl when she moved to Nashville all those years ago, and they had become fast friends.  While Ruby’s life plans had stayed on target, Emma’s had definitely taken a detour.

Inside the small café, she was relieved to see the band was still setting up with David, one half of the couple who ran the storied little venue on music row.  She turned to find Ruby sitting up at the bar, chatting with his wife, Mary Margaret.  The sweet woman was smiling and handing Ruby her drink, something fruity and complex.  Becoming friends with Ruby had led to becoming friends with Mary Margaret, and David by extension, and over the years, they had formed a little misfit family with her and Henry.  Still, being back in this bar had always made raw the part of Emma that had come to Nashville with big dreams all those years ago.

Mary Margaret smiled at her as she walked up for the bar, pulling out a long neck and popping the cap off before setting it in front of her.  Emma Swan was definitely not fruity drink kind of woman.  She and Ruby were also dressed different as night and day.  Emma was wearing boot cut jeans over her favorite pair of boots, a vintage pearl snap shirt she found at a thrift store near her office, and her favorite red leather coat.  Next to her, Ruby wore a pair of sky high stiletto boots with ripped fishnets, a red and black plaid skirt and a black leather halter top, definitely a very rock and roll look for a country bar.

“Emma!”  Ruby smiled at her.  “I’m glad you came.  I think you’re going to love these guys.  I have been scouting them for the last two weeks.”  Ruby was an A&R scout for one of the record labels in town, and she often asked Emma to come along and see bands live, to get a second opinion.  She also suspected Ruby’s ulterior motive was to remind Emma of her own dreams.  However, she had a life and responsibilities now.  Dreams were for people who didn’t have a child to raise on their own.

Just then, David stepped off the stage and the band took their places.  There were five of them.  At the back, a guy with curly dark hair sat at a drum set, adjust the height on the cymbals.  Arrayed in front of him were a blond guy holding an electric bass, a younger guy with dark hair holding a guitar, a man with dark sandy blond hair with a fiddle, and with his back to the audience, the lead singer, also dark haired.  He turned and Emma nearly gasped.  All of them were good looking, but this guy was gorgeous.  Even in the dim light, she could make out his bright blue eyes.  In his hands was a mandolin.

“Good evening everyone and welcome to the Bluebird!  We are the Gentleman Marauders, and we are thrilled to be here tonight!  So grab a drink, sit back, and enjoy the show.”  With that, he nodded and the drummer started a count in to the first song.  Emma had been surprised by the accent on the lead singer, something between Irish and English.  Emma took a pull off her beer and settled in to listen.

Ruby was right, they were good.  Their sound was somewhere between Mumford and Sons and The Civil Wars, just the right mix between folk and rock with a little bit of the Gaelic vibe she heard in both Irish pubs and in some of the Appalachian hill bands that came down for blue grass festivals.  The lyrics were gorgeous and the quality of their playing was top notch.  How they hadn’t already been discovered and snatched up was beyond her.  And the lead singer’s voice, Jesus.  It was gravel and whiskey and…well, sex.

She leaned over to Ruby as the band paused to sip some water.  “Sign them.” 

Ruby looked surprised.  She trusted her own instincts, but Emma usually played devil’s advocate in these situations, noting little things like how one instrument was out of tune, or how the lead singer was throwing back drinks so fast they were tipsy by the end of the set.  “Seriously?  Not a bad word to say?”

Just then, the lead singer stepped back up to the mike.  “We’re going to slow things down a little on this next song.  This is ‘Wrung Dry’.”

The beat was slower, the mandolin and the fiddle more prominent.  And then the lyrics kicked in, a story of hope turned to ash, a man taking a girl’s heart and stealing pieces of her soul, leaving her kicked and down.  And Emma couldn’t breathe all of a sudden.  It was…eerie, how close the song resembled her life.

*****

Strumming my pain with his fingers,

Singing my life with his words,

Killing me softly with his song.

She had been 17 when she stepped off the bus in Nashville, with two changes of clothes in her bag and a beat up old guitar.  She found a job at a diner run by a kind older woman named Granny and became friends with the lady’s granddaughter, Ruby.  They ended up letting her crash on the trundle in Ruby’s room.  She would work her shifts, and any time she wasn’t working, she was writing songs and sneaking into clubs for open mic night.

She had met him in one of those clubs.  Neal was older and had been on the scene for a while, trying to break in.  He had approached her about writing together, and it had been something like magic.  The words and the music just came together, meshing beautifully.  He was sweet with her, promising her that they were going to be the next big thing; that their sound was going to change country music.  That he cared about her, loved her, and he was going to take care of her.  It had sounded like the old songs she had grown up on, the ones that had helped her hold onto hope in one bad foster home after another.

Only one day, Neal had disappeared.  Up and skipped out on meeting her.  A week later, she ran into him and his buddies at one of the bars on the row, celebrating the deal Neal had just landed with the songs he had written.  At least, that’s what he told the guy from the label; that each and every song was his and his alone.  Emma was heartbroken.  And then a few days later, she woke up throwing up sick. 

Granny and Ruby did their best to help, even suggesting Emma get a lawyer.  After all, she had her handwritten notes and demos of songs she had started before she even met Neal.  But her heart wasn’t in it.  It was like the muse in her had fled when Neal had betrayed her.  All her energy was focused on working and saving up to pay for her pregnancy.  She had planned to give the baby up, but when the time came, she just couldn’t do it.  And she wanted to have nothing to do with Neal.

Henry grew up in Granny’s diner, with help from aunt Ruby and Granny, and later David and Mary Margaret.  Emma worked long hours, then went to classes at night, first at the community college and then a Belmont on a scholarship, getting a degree in marketing and public relations.  Now she worked for a PR firm run by Regina Mills, focusing on growing area businesses.  Ruby had also gone to Belmont, majoring in music business and clawing her way up the ladder at her label.  Now she and Henry lived in the apartment down the hall from Granny and Ruby, and she stayed away from the row as much as she could.

*****

“I need some air.”  Emma stood and made for the back door into the alley behind the bar.  Leaning her hands against the brick wall, she fought to get her equilibrium back.  It had been over seven years since she had even heard anything about Neal, and what she had heard wasn’t good.  Ruby heard through her internship that Neal had failed to launch.  The signing had gone to his head and every day had been a party, until the label dropped him and kept his masters.  Last they knew, he had been arrested for being part of a ring doing petty thefts, and was serving time in a prison somewhere across state.

It still ached though, the tales he’d sold her, the promises left unfulfilled.  And how this band could know what he’d done…

“Are you all right, love?”  The voice seemed to come out of nowhere and she jumped, turning to find the lead singer from the band standing behind her.

“Not you love.” She paused, taking a breath.  “Shouldn’t you be on stage?”

“We’re on a break before the second set.  And when the loveliest lass in the bar gets up and runs out in the middle of a song, it makes a man curious.”  He held out a fresh long neck to her.  Emma eyed him warily.  “It’s not spiked love.  Scout’s honor.”

Emma took it from his hand.  “Thank you.”  Taking a long draw off it, she felt herself settling down finally.  “Sorry, if I threw you off.”

“No harm.”  He lifted a second long neck and drank.  “I’m Killian, by the way.  Killian Jones.”

“Emma.”  She reached out and shook his hand.  “How long have you guys been playing together?”

“A year, give or take.  We just came to Nashville last month.”  He hadn’t dropped her hand, holding it for a moment as his fingers seemed to stroke over the tips of her fingers.  “Guitar?”

It was like a small frisson of electricity ran through her.  “No.  I mean, not professionally.  I just play for my son, sometimes.”

His blue eyes caught hers.  “Pity.  You’ve a lovely voice, lass.”

Emma caught her breath.  “Do you know Neal Cassidy?” 

Killian paused, taking another sip of his beer and seemed to think.  “Can’t as say I do.  Why?”

“Who was that song about?  ‘Wrung Dry’?”  This time, Emma saw a shadow pass over his face.  He finished the last of his drink, and seemed to consider.

“Stay through the set, and then let me buy you a drink, and I’ll tell you.”  He tipped his head at her.  “I’ve got to get back.”

With that, he disappeared back in the door.  A few minutes later, Emma squared her shoulders and followed.

*****
She warred with herself, but she didn’t think she could have this talk.  Not tonight.  Tomorrow was Saturday, and Henry was going to a birthday party at noon and then sleeping over.  So, she left her card with Ruby, a note on the back.  “Had to get home to my son.  Lunch instead?  Granny’s Diner, 1PM”.  Then she slipped out during their last song.

The next day, after she had dropped Henry off at his friend Avery’s, she drove to the little diner that had been her first home in the city.  Granny looked up and smiled as she came in, letting her grab a couple of menus off the counter and snag a booth in the back.  Without asking, she brought Emma a water and hot cocoa, just how she liked it, with whipped cream and cinnamon.  She had about forty minutes to kill, so she pulled out her laptop to do some work on a soft opening for an area restaurant.

At five minutes to one, he walked in the door.  If possible, he looked even better today, wearing a v-neck black t-shirt and dark, stone washed jeans.  The silver necklace she had noticed last night in the alley lay against his chest, and his hair looked sinfully tussled.  She couldn’t see his eyes at first behind the mirrored aviators, but his face lit up when he spotted her.

“Afternoon, Swan.”  He took a seat across from her and pulled his glasses off as she packed up her laptop.  “I was surprised when your friend gave me your card.  I saw you leave before the end of the set.”

“I have a ten year old.”  She gave a rueful smile.  “And a babysitter who had a breakfast shift here.”

“Fair enough.”  Granny walked over at that moment.  “Could I get a coffee, please love?  Black.”

The old woman gave him a rare smile before heading back to the counter. 

“So, Emma Swan, I don’t think you were entirely honest with me last night.”  He sat back and watched her as surprise played across her face.  “You didn’t tell me that your friend at the bar was an A&R scout.”

Emma let go of the breath she was holding.  “I didn’t want to get your hopes up.  I’m not cruel.”

“We’ve a meeting with her and her boss tomorrow, to play for them.  I won’t say our hopes are high, but they are definitely higher than they were.”  He took the coffee Granny brought for him.  “Cheers, lass.”

Emma laughed and clinked her fresh mug of cocoa with his.  “I’ll take my usual Granny, thanks.” 

Killian smiled at the older woman again, making her almost blush.  “I’d like the lasagna, please.”  After the older woman left, he focused back on her.  It felt like she was the only one in the room.  “And the other thing you weren’t honest about, lass, was this.”  Reaching over, he brushed over the calluses on her fingers again.

Emma felt her heart stutter for a moment.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

Killian sipped his coffee.  “There’s a bit of a legend in the bars we play, about a lovely lass with a beautiful voice and the soul of a poet who was there one day and then just gone the next.  The word was that she was done very, very wrong.”

Emma said nothing for a long time, averting her gaze to stare out the window at the young man busking with a guitar on the corner.  Finally, she said, “That girl is long gone.”  Looking back at him, she tried a redirect.  “I seem to remember you saying you’d tell me the story about that song.”

“You’re a hard lass.”  Killian was quiet in turn as Granny brought their food.  He watched as Emma dressed her bacon cheese burger, then said, “The truth is, the lass in the song is me.”

“Sorry?” Emma looked up from her fries.  “I don’t follow.”

“When I was just starting out, I met this woman.  She was a bit older than me, and we ended up working together.  I loved her.”  He paused and then took a sip of his coffee.  She could see the echoes of an old pain in his eyes.  “Anyway, one day, she just up and left me.  Turned out she was married.  She went back to her husband and I never saw her again.”

“I’m sorry.”  Emma watched as he focused intently on his lasagna for a moment.

“It’s the past, love.”  He took a bite and chewed.  “When I decided to write the song, switching the rolls, singing about it from the third person, it let me let it out, but still keep some distance, you know.”

Emma nodded, using her own food as a chance to think.  Finally, she asked her next question.  “So, you just kept going?  With your music.”

This time, the laugh was raw and a little bitter.  “Not right away.  I spent a lot of time drunk, and the rest of it as a bar back in my brother’s pub, so I could afford to drink.”  He caught her eye, and the open honesty there shocked her.  “Rob and Will started playing as the house band with another guy… One night, their singer was sick, so my brother Liam threw me under the bloody bus.  After, Rob bought me a pint and asked if I was a bloody moron for wasting my life.  We’ve been building the band ever since.  Came here to try to make it big about a month ago.”

She smiled softly at him.  “And now it might be happening for you.  Congratulations.”

He smiled back, big and bright, and some little part of her heart flip-flopped.  “Thanks, lass.”  He took another big bite of his food, chewing slowly and watching her.  “So, what’s your story?  Why’d that song effect you so much?”

Emma was quiet, starring at her hands in her lap.  “When I came here, I wanted to be a songwriter, and maybe a singer.  But it was the songs that mattered.  I met this guy, Neal.”  She closed her eyes as pain lanced through her.  “We hooked up, started writing together, and it was amazing.  And he had all these big plans for us.  Until one day he up and left.  Turned out he told an A&R scout he had written them alone.  It got him a deal.”

“Did you fight him?”  Killian’s expression was kind and sad for her.  “They were half yours.”

“I didn’t have it in me.”  She couldn’t explain it, but something about him made her want to tell this man everything.  It was liberating and terrifying all at once.  “I grew up a foster kid, and Neal was the first person who ever wanted me.  Or I thought wanted me.  I was barely 18 when he left, and then I figured out I was pregnant, and I just…he became my focus.”

Killian was looking at her intently.  “It’s never too late, you know.”

She laughed, sadly.  “Between soccer practice and boy scouts and class projects, I do good to work and cook dinner and make the occasional open mic night with Ruby.”  She pushed her plate and stood, reaching in her bag for her wallet.  “It was nice to meet you, Killian.  Good luck with the band.”

He grabbed the bill off the table.  “My treat.”  He looked at her for a long moment.  “I’d like to see you again sometime, Emma.”

She felt her walls flying back up.  The last time she had let a musician in…well, she wouldn’t trade Henry for the world, but everything else in her life hadn’t worked out either.  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

She moved to go, hurrying out the front door.  She was almost to her little yellow bug when he caught up to her.  “Try something new, love.  It’s called trust.”  She turned to face him.  “I’m not him.”

“I’m sorry.”  She looked at him sadly, and thought again just how much Neal had ruined her.  “I can’t take a chance I’m wrong about you.  I have my son to think about.”

“Swan…” he said, staring at her.  She made herself turn and walk away.  “Swan!”

Getting in her car, she drove away.

****

“Are you insane?”  Emma had barely opened the door when Ruby pushed into the apartment.  Henry glanced up from his homework at the table.  “Hey kid!  Granny has apple pie hot out of the oven down the hall.”

“Awesome!”  Henry grabbed his book.  “Can I mom?”

Emma sighed.  “Sure kid.  Just save some room for dinner.”  Henry smiled at her then headed out the door.  “Really, Ruby?”

“Emma, Killian Jones is…”  Ruby started, but Emma held her hand up until she heard the door down the hall to Granny’s place open and shut.

“He’s a musician, Ruby.”  Emma turned and walked back to the kitchen where she was making homemade mac and cheese.  “I have a son and responsibilities and I can’t just…”

“God, Emma, Henry’s ten.  You are going to turn around one day, and he’ll be gone to college, and you’ll be all alone and will have never tried again for your dream.  Is that really what you want?”  Ruby tended to run on when she was passionate about something. “You deserve to be happy, Emma.”

“Maybe I am happy!”  Emma turned to face her oldest friend.  “I have an amazing, talented kid.  I have a good job that lets me be his mom.  I have people I care about.”

“Emma, I used to sit and listen to you write.  You have a gift.  And the only time I’ve seen your face light up the same way is with Henry.”  Ruby reached out and took her hand.  “And just because Neal broke your heart doesn’t mean someone like Killian can’t fix it.  But you have to be willing to take a chance.”

With that, Ruby squeezed her hand and then left her sitting at the table.  Emma watched her go, her eyes falling on the old battered guitar in the corner.  She played it from time to time for Henry when he asked, popular songs from the radio or old lullabies.  But it had been a long time since she had just sat down with it and written.

Shaking her head, Emma returned to cooking dinner.  Her priorities had to be elsewhere.

*****

Mary Margaret and David had invited her and Henry to the Bluebird for a Sunday brunch a couple weeks later.  It was a more family friendly crowd, and she was happy to find Granny and Ruby joining them.  Emma was surprised as the band started setting up.  She recognized Killian’s bandmates from the night she’d met them setting up.  After a few minutes of tuning, Killian joined them and stepped up to the mike.  “Good morning!  We’re Gentleman Marauders, and we want to thank the Nolans for inviting us back out to celebrate our signing with Cricket Lane Records.”  A round of applause filled the room.  “We hope you enjoy the show.”

Their drummer counted in and they started playing.  Ruby had a huge grin on her face.  It wasn’t her first signing, but the prospect of these guys hitting big was so good, she couldn’t help the pride on her face.  Henry tugged on Emma’s arm.  “They’re really good, Mom!”

“Yeah kid,” she said, her eyes catching Killian’s across the room.  “They really are.”

The band played another couple of songs while they ate.  Then they paused for water.  When Emma looked up, she was surprised to see David setting a second stool next to Killian’s mike, and then…oh, god.

“So, there’s a lovely lass in the audience today that you probably haven’t heard of.  And that’s a bit of a crying shame.”  Killian was looking at her as her heart started to pound.  “See, she was a talented young performer once upon a time, until someone did something horrible and stole her songs.  It took some digging and some help…” his gaze moved to Ruby and he winked.  “But we’ve tracked them down, and I want to ask her to join us now and preform one.”

Emma was rapidly shaking her head.  “Come on, Swan.  Take a leap of faith.”

Emma looked at Ruby.  The woman smiled.  “Archie, our label’s lawyer, called Neal’s old label and told them the truth, said we had evidence you had co-written nearly everything Neal showed them.  Hell, he even gave them some stuff that was wholly yours.”  She looked at her.  “Emma, get up there.  Because Killian and the guys put a lot of time into this song for you.  Go.”

“Yeah Mom!”  Henry grinned up at her and gave her a push.  “Do it for me.”

Emma stood as people started to applaud, walking up slowly to the front of the room.  Killian gave her his hand and pulled her up on stage, while David handed her old guitar to her.  “I’m going to kill you both.” Her voice was a soft whisper.

“Smile Swan.”  She looked out at the crowd.  “Ladies and Gentlemen, Miss Emma Swan.  We’re performing her song, ‘Somewhere Down the Line.’”

She took a deep breath then glanced back at the drummer.  She nodded and he started counting in.  Emma closed her eyes and felt her fingers move, playing the opening cords like it was only yesterday.

This song was wholly hers, not Neal’s.  It came from all those dreams she’d had as a little girl, dreams of something brighter and better than she’d had, dreams of a someday.  She sang the first verse, her voice a little rough as she got used to the sounds of the other instruments blending in.  By the time Killian joined her on the chorus.  Their voices blended into each other, playing off each other.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, finding his blue ones focused wholly on her.  She found herself focusing on him, everything else fading away as they sang.  When the last note rang out, the room erupted into thunderous applause.  Emma was startled, glancing back to find everyone on their feet.  “Miss Emma Swan, ladies and gentlemen!”  Killian smiled at her.  “A true Nashville talent.”

As she stepped down from the stage, Henry rushed up and hugged her, followed by Granny, David and Mary Margaret.  Killian and the band announced they’d be taking a break.  The other guys patted her on the back or shook her hand before heading back to the bar where food waited.  She handed Henry off to Granny and then cut through the crowd as all the adrenaline dumped from her system, leaving her light headed.

It was so familiar, leaning against the brick out back, her forehead resting against it, when she heard her voice behind her.  “Emma?”

“You two had no right to do that.”   Her voice shook.  “What if I’d choked?”

“You didn’t.”  His hand came up, resting soft on her shoulder.  “Hell, love, you’re strong.  You raised a son on your own, got through school on your own.  From what I can see, the only time you’ve failed is when you didn’t try.”

She turned to face him.  His blue eyes searched her face, with nothing but hope and openness to show her.  “Why do you care?”

He looked at her and smiled that soft smile of his.  “Because I know what it’s like to have someone throw your world off its axis.”  He paused.  “And because, for the first time since it happened to me, I met someone who gave me hope that I could find love again.  I met you, Emma.”

She searched his face, looking for the lie.  There was none.  “Okay.”

“Okay, love?”  He looked so hopeful.

“I’m broken.”  She looked into his eyes, trying to make sure he understood.  “And I’m stubborn, and difficult, and it’s going to take me time to…to be fully open to…that.  But…if you want to see me again…I’d like that.”

“I’d like that.”  He reached out slowly, the way she had seen people do with skittish horses.  “I’m going to kiss you now, Swan.”

Her own hands came up and framed his face.  “Okay.”

His lips were soft against hers, and he didn’t push.  It was a sweet kiss, gentle and affectionate, and she found herself pressing tighter, opening to him, and taking it deeper.  She lost herself in it for a few minutes before they pulled apart.

“I should get back to Henry.”  She was breathless when she said it.  He nodded, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“And I have a gig to finish.”  His hand dropped, taking hers.  Together, they went back in the door.

“Mom!”  Henry ran up to her, hugging her again.  “You’re amazing!”  Then he turned to Killian.  “You too.”

“Thanks, Lad!”  Killian smiled, then let her hand go, walking back over to the band to grab a sandwich quickly.

“I told you,” Ruby said, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“I’m still upset you ambushed me.”  Emma tried to look stern.  “But…thank you.”

Just then, a woman walked up to them.  “Emma?  I’m Kathryn Midas, Ruby’s boss.  I’d like to talk to you about opportunities with our label.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open.  She looked at Ruby.  “Hey, don’t look at me.”  Ruby smiled.  “I invited Kathryn to brunch as a friend.  We’ve never discussed you before.”

“And that shows you’re falling down on the job, Lucas.”  Kathryn smiled teasingly.  “But we’ll let it slide this time.  Call me when you’d like to come by.”  With that, the woman handed Emma her card and then headed back to her table. 

“Holy cow, mom!”  Henry grinned up at her.  “So, it’s time for Operation Superstar!”

Emma caught Killian smiling at her across the room, and laughed as he gave her the thumbs up.  “We’ll see, kid.  We’ll see.”