"As Fate Would Have It": Chapter 8

Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure

‘Coz even when I dream of you … The sweetest dream would never do

= Tuesday 07 March 2000 =

With less effort than Laurel would have thought necessary, the Hanson crew and their guest made their way to the penthouse on the uppermost floor, leaving their security personnel to handle the luggage. Mackenzie and the girls were put to bed in their rooms, and Diana took Zoë to her and Walker’s room, where a crib had been set up, and Walker also retired. Zac opted to take one of the beds in the room with Mac, leaving the other bed and cot in that room for Taylor and Isaac. Laurel was given a room to herself, at the far end of the hall. Next to her room was Avery and Jessica’s, then their brothers’ room. The master bedroom was on the other side of the lounge, kitchen and living room.

Taylor, though weary, offered to stay up long enough to help Laurel and Isaac distribute everyone’s suitcases to their rooms. Once that was done, however, he was out cold the moment his head hit the pillow. Isaac grimaced at the idea of sleeping on a cot, but, as Taylor had said, he owed his little brother for helping him with Laurel.

"I don’t understand," Laurel kept her voice low to avoid disturbing anyone. "I thought it would be better to stay awake. The time difference is only three hours."

"First off," Isaac informed her patiently, "three hours is a big deal when it feels to us like it’s 4:15 in the morning. Secondly, we have to be at an interview appointment at 7:30 tomorrow morning, so we left today’s schedule clear so that we could sleep. Everyone will wake up before noon, anyway. It’s a jetlag thing."

"Oh, I see." Just at that moment, something in the far corner of the lounge caught Laurel’s eye and she nearly gasped with excitement, as she rushed over to the gleaming baby grand piano. Isaac observed her every movement as she gingerly seated herself on the bench and ran her fingertips lightly over the pearly ivory keys.

She’s an angel, he thought to himself as he collapsed onto the couch situated about five feet behind her. That beautiful smile of hers lights up her whole face; it’s a breathtaking sight. I wish she would smile more often. It breaks my heart every time I see tears in her eyes.

"Do you think I would wake anyone if I played a little now?" she asked without turning around.

"Not a chance. They’re all dead to the world by now, and I’m not far behind." Isaac punctuated the statement with a yawn. His eyes never left her as she situated her hands over the keyboard and began to play the first thing that came to her mind.

Coincidentally, she had chosen a song that made Isaac think she’d read his thoughts as she began to sing softly: "Don’t wanna close my eyes / Don’t wanna fall asleep / ‘Coz I’d miss you baby / And I don’t wanna miss a thing / ‘Coz even when I dream of you / The sweetest dream would never do / I’d still miss you baby / And I don’t wanna miss a thing…" Laurel’s voice was indeed a strong and sonorous tenor. Isaac soundlessly mouthed the lyrics of the verse as Laurel sang them: "I could stay awake just to hear you breathing / Watch you smile while you are sleeping / While you’re far away and dreaming / I could spend my life in this sweet surrender / I could stay lost in this moment forever / Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure…"

Laurel stopped singing and turned around to speak. "You’re so tired that you look ready to lapse into a coma."

Isaac agreed with her assessment. "Your playing is actually very relaxing. Your voice, too. Keep going; I enjoy it, especially that song." He hoped she would catch the hidden meaning in his last statement.

She did, but chose to act ignorant of it. "Diane Warren is one of my favorite songwriters. Whenever I find a song that I like, nine times out of ten she’s the one who wrote it. It’s my goal to one day be as skilled a songwriter as she is. I’ve got a long way to go, though. But I’m boring you to sleep, practically."

Isaac smiled at her, a smile that shone with something more than friendliness. "Don’t worry about that; it’s not your fault. Sunday night was a late one, and I didn’t get much sleep when I finally did get to bed. So if I fall asleep here, don’t worry about me. I’m sure it would be more comfortable than that ludicrous cot." Laurel smiled again when she saw the comical expression of disgust he wore. "I swear. We stay here every time we come to New York, yet somehow the management neglects to remember how abnormally tall I am whenever we request a cot."

"Oh, quit whining. There’s nothing abnormal about your height," Laurel chided. Then she commanded, "Stand up." Isaac did so, and Laurel stood toe-to-toe with him. "See? If there’s anyone here with a height abnormality, it’s me, down here. Actually, my problem isn’t my height; it’s my lack thereof." Her antics won a soft chuckle from Isaac.

Suddenly, though, she found his hand moving toward her, toward the hair that had swung forward to rest on her shoulder. She stepped back, and almost fell when the backs of her knees made contact with the piano bench. "I — I think I’m going to go get some sleep now; I can practice later. Hayley made me promise not to for the whole week, anyway. Good night — er — good morning, or whatever." She quickly slipped out of his reach and darted down the hall to her room. A dumbfounded Isaac merely watched her go, wondering why she had changed gears so quickly.

Closing the door, Laurel leaned back against it and heaved a heavy sigh. What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all? This is not the man you loved. You don’t even know this guy; why are you flirting with him? You know he’s interested, but that doesn’t mean he loves you. And what good is a relationship without love? It’s not! It only leads to someone getting hurt, Laurel, and that someone is going to be you. So steer clear of him. Fake headaches while he’s around, lock yourself in here, do something to keep him away. In four days, you and he will each go your own way and you will never see or hear from him again.

Exhausted, she fell into bed, still fully clothed. But the moment she closed her eyes, she saw his face as it had been when he was listening to her sing along with the rest of his family.

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When everyone emerged from their rooms a few hours later, there was an obvious tension in the air. Isaac, who had never fallen asleep, seemed agitated, and Laurel remained locked in her room.

"What’s wrong, Son? You don’t look too happy." Walker had pulled Isaac aside at the first opportunity he had. He’d known something was not quite right the moment he noticed that his son refused to make eye contact with anyone.

Even now, Isaac found it impossible to look his father in the eye. Yet the tumultuous feelings crashing around inside him were more than he could keep to himself. "It’s Laurel. Ever since Sunday night’s concert, every time I get within five feet of her she completely shuts me out, and I can’t stand it. She seems to be angry at me for something, but I don’t know what."

"Just give it time. Don’t forget who you and your brothers are. She could just be in shock because of her situation right now. You and I know that you’re a normal guy, but to everyone who doesn’t know you, you’re much more than that. Let her get used to the idea of being around you; she’ll loosen up. You need to be patient. She’s probably nervous more than anything else."

"You’re probably right, Dad. Thanks," Isaac’s face wore an expression of relief, but in his heart he knew that there was something deeper to Laurel’s moods than shock or nerves.

And he wasn’t the only one, either. Taylor, despite being just barely awake, had seen a noticeable hesitance in Laurel’s reactions to Isaac …and to him also, now that he thought about it. Something was wrong; Taylor’s belief of this was reaffirmed when he saw the cloud of brooding that had settled over his older brother. Knowing Isaac’s mood and how it would lead him to act, he thought it best not to mention Laurel. He made sure Jessie and Avie knew this also, and turned his attention to the piano in the lounge. He sat down and began to play a new melody that had been running through his head.

"Zac," he called. "Can you bring me some paper and a pencil? I think I’ve got something here."

"Here, just take these. I don’t have any staffed paper, and I don’t know where yours is." Zac handed over a sketchpad and pencil. Turning to a blank page, Taylor quickly drew a staff and began scribbling out what he’d been playing, as Zac watched over his shoulder.

"Looks good. Do you have any lyrics yet?"

"No, just this." Taylor put down them down and double-checked what he’d just written, then made a few corrections on the sheet. "Do you think it’s usable?"

"I don’t see why not, if we can come up with some lyrics. Do you have as much as a tune?" The accompaniment part was versatile, and Zac could have made up ten melodies, and harmonies to go with them, and any of them would have worked.

"Not really. There are so many possibilities."

"I know. What you’ve got sounds good, though."

"Thanks. Maybe we can get some ideas from Ike if and when he snaps out of his moping state."

"What is it that’s got under his skin this time?" Zac asked as he sprawled across the couch behind the piano bench. "That girl?"

"Have you noticed her acting weird around us, and especially around him?"

"In all honesty, my number one priority this morning was sleep." Zac thought for a moment. "Now that you mention it… Well, think about it. We’re the Hanson brothers, and she’s a fan. I think we ought to be grateful that she’s being moody rather than something else. This would be a huge pain if she was being hysterical. We get enough shrieking whenever we go out; I don’t want to come back and get it here, too."

"Good point. But I still think there’s more to it. Just do me a favor and watch how she acts around us. There’s something going on, but I can’t put my finger on it."

"I will," Zac promised, as Isaac entered the room and stared out the window, the picture of melancholy. "You okay, dude?" Zac inquired.

A dejected sigh was the only response he got. Great, Zac thought, not only is he going to be depressive, but he’s going to be silent, too. What a fun week this is going to be. He got up and left the room. Taylor can put up with him. I just don’t have that kind of patience.

Upon entering the living room, Zac found Mackenzie sitting in the middle of the floor with his Star Wars action figures spread out around him. The young boy looked up at his older brother and asked, "Why is Ike sad? Does he still think Laurel hates him?"

"I guess so, Mac. I don’t know; he won’t say what’s bothering him. But that’s my best guess."

"Laurel’s nice. She talked to me on the plane. But she got mad when Ike laughed at her."

"Why did he laugh at her?" Zac was almost ashamed of the fact that a six-year-old seemed to know more about what was going on than he did.

"She said she sings tenor. That’s a man’s part, right?"

"Yup. It’s what Tay sings in church. I can see why she would be mad if he didn’t take her seriously." His thoughts returned to the incident in the car this morning. From his seat directly in front of Ike, he too had heard Laurel sing, but pretended not to notice. In his wearied stupor, Zac had thought he was hearing things, until Ike apologized to her.