between them and put his arms around her, careful to avoid her shoulder. “Didn’t you tell me once that a plan isn’t everything? You need to be ready to shift course when the weather turns.” He chuckled with his eyes half closed, the way he did when he was embarrassed, and with the sound, Emma felt the baby move again. A sharp jab under her ribs. “I’m scared, too. Why do you think I’ve been talking about our progeny to anyone who’ll listen?”
She swallowed her relief about the baby, not yet ready to step away from the outburst that felt like a lifting of the fog. “But why am I the only one who’s supposed to change?”
“Haven’t you seen me trying to step up in the band? Make my own decisions so it isn’t all on you?” A wry, knowing smile at her astonishment. “Trust me, okay? We’re in this together, I swear.” Stu stroked her hair until she leaned in to feel the quick of his heartbeat. They clung to each other as it slowed and steadied, and Emma wondered if that could be enough for her—to set aside the frenetic drive of her own pulse and follow someone else’s lead.
* * *
—
Emma watched Gertie from the wings as she played her last song alone. The sun had gone down, the floodlights were coming on, and the wind off the water had picked up. The banner across the top of the stage was lettered with the official name of the concert, TO AMERICA WITH LOVE, but it was too large to ripple in the breeze.
The boys, who had played backup during the middle section of Gertie’s set, were buzzing about the size of the crowd and the vibe of playing such a high-profile event.
“I’ve been talking to Gertie about the song, about ‘Curious Fellow,’ and it’s actually about a mad squirrel,” said Jesse, breaking away from the others to join Emma. She could see he’d worked enough gel into his hair for it to defy gravity. “She thinks it whispered in her ear while she was sleeping in the woods.”
Emma smirked. So much for famous love affairs and sultry California trysts. “Does Stu know?”
“No.”
But when Jesse told him, Stu just hooted as a wicked grin spread over his face. “That’s even better,” he said. “It means it’s about the music, not the bullshit.”
When Gertie finished her set, she came backstage and kissed each of the boys on both cheeks, and Ben blushed, which made Emma laugh.
By the time the crew returned from setting up the equipment, their set was already fifteen minutes behind schedule. Impatient, the audience began clapping and chanting the band’s name in rhythm. The boys couldn’t help grinning. The applause was like the crackling of a fire gaining strength, and it felt just as warming. Emma wanted to go onstage and close her eyes in the face of its naked approval.
“Our turn,” said Stu. “Let’s do this thing.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes and led the way onstage, one arm already extended in an outsize wave. When he got to the microphone, he leaned in and said, “Let’s sing together, friends. Or for my Esperanto pals out there: Saluton, miaj amikoj. Ni kantu kune!”
Ben sat down at his kit and grinned at Emma as she crossed the stage. Jesse was on the other side of Stu, who was wasting no time in flirting with the front row. He was a light bulb when it came to an audience, and the bigger the crowd, the brighter he shone. This audience was a moving carpet of bodies as far as Emma could see, and everyone near the stage had their hands in the air as though the music might come upon them like rain in the desert. Around the edges, Emma could make out the bright turquoise of the porta-potties, like stalwart sentinels in the distance.
“Thank you for helping us help our country,” Stu was saying, and a cheer went up from the crowd. Crowds always wanted to cheer for themselves.
“Thank you, Vancouver,” yelled Jesse, and there they went again.
Emma tapped the sustain pedal of her Korg keyboard and leaned into the mic for the first song, just as she caught a sudden muddiness and stutter in Jesse’s bassline as he tripped on a taped-down set of wires. They were a pretty ragged pack of saviours, if that’s what they were.
They hadn’t performed these songs in front of a real audience before, and as