Texas Charm, page 18
“But they know you, and you’re a part of us.”
Walker could see that Henry was sincere. “I’ve only been here a few times.”
“You’ve played at special occasions and you’ve helped build the clinic and remodel the courthouse. You belong here now, and you know how Sweetgrass is. When you become a part of this place, you never really leave.”
He’d been leaving all his life.
But Henry’s words touched something deep inside him, a place where his words were water on dry land. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate you saying that, Henry.”
“It’s true. You should think about doing the service here. You’d always be able to come back.” Henry hesitated. “Someday you might decide to stay. Sweetgrass makes a good home, and you’d be welcome.”
The simple honesty of Henry’s words meant more than Walker could take in right now. “I’ll give it some thought.” Not staying, of course, but…giving Lesley the home he’d never been able to grant her.
“I hope you will. And let me know if you want me to play at the service. Brenda wants to do the flowers for you as a way of thanking you for helping us find our way to each other.” At the joint surprise birthday Henry and Brenda had given each other, Walker had played and given Henry the stage to sing to Brenda to let her know his heart.
“You don’t owe me a thing. I’d be honored to have Brenda do the flowers, but I have to pay her for them.”
Henry’s jaw hardened. “No, you won’t. It’s the Sweetgrass way, Walker. You know that.”
Was he really thinking about doing the service here?
Nothing felt more right. He couldn’t stay, but giving Lesley roots in death as he hadn’t in life made some of the ache in his heart ease.
“I thank you, Henry. Please give Brenda my thanks, too. And—” He held up the guitar. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“It’s what friends do,” Henry said simply. “Come to the cafe later, and let me feed you and Maisie lunch.”
“And Jeanette?”
“If she can. I heard Hayley’s been calling the cafe for her. I guess she didn’t get finished back there.”
One more black mark on his record. He’d interrupted her best chance for a new career, and she’d taken it all in stride. He’d have to make it up to her somehow—maybe he could introduce her around Nashville, if L.A. hadn’t been to her taste, as seemed to be the case. At any rate, he couldn’t ask her to put her dreams aside for his.
“That’s my fault. But I don’t know what Maisie and I would have done without Jeanette—without all of you, really. We’ll get out of your hair soon.”
“I know you have to return to the road to finish the tour, but you remember what I said. Sweetgrass could be your home, too, and it would be good for your niece.”
His life and this one were incompatible in too many ways to count, though. “Thank you. I mean it.”
His phone rang, and he stifled a groan as he saw it was Dusty. He couldn’t keep dodging his manager forever—but at least now he had the beginnings of a plan. “I sure appreciate the loan, Henry.”
“No problem.” The younger man waved and headed off.
Walker sighed and one more time, rejected the call.
“Hi,” said his husky voice from the kitchen doorway.
She turned. “Hi yourself. You found a guitar.”
He grinned. “Thanks to you, Henry brought his. He said you thought I might need one.” He exhaled. “You’re right. Thank you.” His gaze was faraway. “Nothing else helps me clear my head like music. It’s how I work things out in my head.”
“What’s troubling you?” She halted, rolled her eyes. “Or shall we start a list?”
“Probably. Dusty just called again. I was going to answer, but…”
“Dusty can wait. How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy,” he answered. “But I can cook them.”
“No, you just sit down. Maybe a good meal will help clear your thinking, too.” She cracked two eggs into the pan, then looked at his size and decided to add a third.
“Where’s Maisie?”
“Still asleep.”
“You’re amazing with her. I saw you two in bed together. You could have put her back with me.”
“And have you twisted up even more like a pretzel? It was fine. Really. She’s a big ole armful of sweetness, isn’t she?”
Warmth filled his gaze. “She is. I just wish—” He shook his head.
She took his plate to him. “Will this work?”
“It looks great and smells even better.” He grabbed her hand. “Thank you.” Warm green eyes held hers. “I have so much I need to thank you for. I don’t know how we’d have managed without you.”
She squeezed his hand, then let go. “I’m glad to be able to help. Honestly. Do you—” She halted. “No, you just eat. More coffee? We can talk later.” At his nod, she turned and went to fill his mug.
When she returned, he was just staring at his plate.
“Anything wrong?”
“What? Oh—” He shook his head vigorously and picked up utensils. “No. Not with this, at any rate.” He took a bite and moaned. “Oh yeah…the body thanks you.”
The body. His body. She had spent too many hours trying to forget everything about his bare flesh, his muscles, his skilled hands and lips and tongue.
She cleared her throat and returned to scramble her own eggs.
Walker was silent as he ate, and she was grateful for the reprieve. They would have to deal with reality sooner rather than later, but for now…a little peace was in order.
“I just can’t seem to find a solution,” he said from behind her.
She turned, plate in hand, and joined him. “For what? Maisie or a service for your sister?”
“Both.” He sighed. “But a service for Lesley is something that needs figuring out first. Henry urged me to accept Jackson’s offer to bury Lesley up there with Veronica’s first husband.”
“I think you should. It’s a beautiful spot.”
“But…she wasn’t part of Sweetgrass. That seems intrusive.”
“She’s part of you, and you’re part of Sweetgrass.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying, but—”
“You don’t want to be?”
“No—never that. I’ve just…” He looked away, and the longing on his face wounded her. “I’ve never belonged anywhere.”
That took her aback. Yes, she knew he had no other family, but still…he ruled his world. Millions of people hung on his every note. He could belong anywhere he wanted to, yet he felt as though he belonged nowhere. She stared at him, trying to assemble this new image of Walker Roundtree, the man who had everything.
Didn’t he?
Wow. She touched his forearm. “Walker, don’t you know how special you are to people around here? Everyone else feels that you fit in—look at all you’ve done. You’ve been here for some of the pivotal moments in many lives, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into doing important work, as well as being part of special occasions like Scarlett’s wedding, Ruby’s, Bridger’s and Jackson’s—of course you belong.”
His eyes were wide as he stared right back. “I have never thrown myself wholeheartedly into anything but music before.” He looked down as if ashamed. “I…sure, I get a welcome mat in all kinds of places, but that’s Walker the star, not…me.”
Not that abandoned boy, she thought he meant. And her heart broke for him.
“I’ve seen the real you,” she said softly. When his head jerked up, expression so vulnerable, she continued. “We all have. You’re not the star when you’re here, Walker, and you don’t ever have to be. That’s not why we value you. Who you are, just Walker, is more than enough.”
He seemed…bewildered. “I don’t—”
She clasped his fingers in hers and squeezed. “You are cherished here, Walker Roundtree, in your jeans and t-shirts. And Maisie will be, too.”
His eyes were dark and vulnerable. “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about her,” he whispered. “I don’t want her growing up on the road, but…that’s how I make my living. It’s all I know.”
“How much more money do you need to make? When is enough?”
He frowned. “It’s not the money—”
She knew her brows had flown high.
“Okay, sure, I like what it buys, but you’re right. I’ve invested wisely and I don’t have a lot of expensive tastes—”
She couldn’t resist a snicker.
He mock-frowned right back. “You have no idea what some of my competitors blow day in and day out. I’m thrifty compared to them.”
“Yeah, I noticed the coupons on your fridge and the Walmart decor in your tiny bus.”
He grinned. “Witch.”
“Poser,” she shot back.
He laughed, and she laughed with him.
Then he heaved a sigh. “That felt good. I haven’t had much reason to laugh since Dusty called.”
“We’ll find more to laugh about, promise.”
“For real?” His gaze seemed earnest.
“You can take that to the bank.” She finished up her plate. “Do you want more?”
He shook his head. “It was great, though. Thanks. I’ll clean up.” He rose, picked up her empty plate and his.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I believe chores were mentioned.” He arched one eyebrow. “You might have noticed the toilet seat is down, too.”
She had to chuckle. She rose, then, to help him clear. “I think Henry and Jackson are right. I’ll help them care for her grave after you go.”
His shoulders went rigid.
“That’s not what you want? It’s okay if it—”
He turned and pulled her into his arms while she held salt and pepper shakers and a honey bear. “I don’t want to go,” he said softly and buried his face in her hair.
Her eyes stung. How desperately she didn’t want him to leave, either. “But you will. You have to.”
He nodded. Then he let her go. Cleared his throat. “First things first. If you’re sure I’m not overstepping, I can’t think of anything I’d like more—or she would have, for that matter—than to bury her here. So will you help me organize the details, Sarge?” His attempt at a teasing smile wasn’t altogether convincing, and she was afraid to read too much into his eyes.
But oh, how she wanted to.
First things first. “I’d be very glad to.”
He nodded but remained stock-still. “I will never figure out how to thank you for this. All of it.”
“No thanks needed, but I appreciate the sentiment very much.”
Companionably they cleaned the kitchen…but beneath the easy silence was a warm yet aching hum.
Chapter Eleven
“Dusty.”
“You sonofabitch.”
“I know. I just—”
“Do I have to remind you that everything I do is for your sake? Yet you leave me out here with my ass hanging in the wind?”
Walker wanted to argue about whose interests Dusty most wanted to serve, but he couldn’t quarrel that an unfair burden had been placed on his manager’s head. “I’m sorry. I had a hard time figuring out what to do.”
“You got it now?”
Not really Not the most important part.
But first things first, as he and Jeanette agreed. “Well, I have the funeral figured out, at least.”
“Nashville? I’ve been working on arrangements—”
“No. No public service. And nothing in Nashville. I’m burying Lesley here”
“In Podunk? Why the hell would you do that?”
Once he would have asked the same, so he tried not to blame Dusty. “You don’t understand this place. You should spend some time here and you’d see—”
“I’d sooner go back to booking bar bands.”
You may get your chance, he wanted to say. “Okay, you don’t have to understand, but it’s what’s best for Maisie. And for me.”
“So when should I show up?”
Walker winced. “Actually…”
“Don’t tell me. I’m to keep playing decoy. And lying to half the known universe. How long do you expect me to keep this up, huh? They’re going to find you eventually.”
That was what he was deathly afraid of. The hunt would only cease when he resurfaced.
“Not much longer,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I mean that. After this, you need to take a big vacation, and I’m paying. I owe you, Dusty. I know that.”
“You damn sure do.” But Dusty’s rancor had moderated. “Can you tell me when this ends?”
No. And I don’t want to. He was painfully tempted never to go back to the life he’d been living. Every day away made that life seem less real.
Anyway, he couldn’t ever go back, not completely. Now there was Maisie.
“How’s the kid?” Dusty asked as if he read minds.
“She loves this place. It’s good for her, too.”
“And the bimbo? She happy to have you in her clutches?”
“Do not talk about her like that. Not ever again, do you hear me?”
“Dude, do not tell me you’re falling for that…whatever the hell she is.”
That very good woman. That sexy siren. That…friend as he’d never had another. And was he? Falling for her?
He couldn’t. Not because of her but because of him. He was wrecked inside, and he was beginning to see he’d only wallpapered over the damage all these years.
A woman like Jeanette deserved someone who had his act together. Who knew what he wanted. Who could give her his whole heart.
Music had owned him for most of his life. He was music’s willing subject.
And Jeanette was a queen in her own right.
“The longer you don’t say anything, the more I think your goose is cooked, my man. So bring her and the kid on the road.”
“It’s no life for a family, you know that. And they both deserve better.”
“So will she keep the kid for you?”
“The kid has a name, Dusty. And Jeanette has her own dreams, her own goals. They don’t include someone else’s child being dropped in her lap.”
“So what the hell are you planning to do?”
“I don’t know, all right?” He was practically shouting. “I don’t know, and I want you to leave me the hell alone while I figure it out.”
“You don’t have time to navel-gaze, Walker. In case you forgot, there’s a tour waiting for you. Or not waiting, as the case may be. The label is furious that you dropped off the radar. We have to give them something. We have to give the venues some answers. That’s to say nothing of the fans, the press—”
His gut twisted. “I’ll talk to you later, Dusty.”
“Later when? I’m not hanging out here by myself much longer. When, Walker?”
Damn it. He knew he was being irresponsible. “Three days. Give me three days.”
“That’s six tour dates you will have missed.”
“Then check on rescheduling.” Though the thought of extending this nightmare made him want to crawl out of his skin.
And when the hell did he ever think of his life’s work as a nightmare?
“Three days, Walker. Then I’m telling them where you are.”
“Don’t you dare—”
But Dusty was already gone.
He looked ravaged as he returned.
“Uncle Bub!” Maisie leaped off Jeanette’s lap.
He quickly smoothed his features and smiled, opening his arms wide to the little girl. “Good morning!”
But Jeanette could tell something had happened, though he closed his eyes and put his all into the hug.
Quickly Maisie lifted her head, her little hands clasping his face, chattering away about the new doll, Sweetie, and how she and Nettie would work on the lookalike doll and what Daisy Bear had said to her this morning—
“Would you like to cook your pancakes now, Maisie?”
“Yes!” She climbed into the chair beside Jeanette.
“Now you remember all of this is hot, right? You have to be very careful.” She glanced over at Walker and saw his relief, barely covering the disquiet, the upheaval that had accompanied him after his call. She’d like to be able to ask him what was wrong, to do something to help him.
But this was what she could do right now: buy him a little space. She pasted on a smile. Mouthed I got this.
He nodded back. “I’m just going to—” He pointed outside, and she let him escape.
“Uncle Bub doesn’t want pancakes?”
“He already ate. Do you think Daisy Bear would like some?”
Maisie wrinkled her nose. “You know Daisy Bear can’t really eat food, right, Nettie?”
“No! For real?” Jeanette gasped, and Maisie giggled. “Are you sure?”
The wide smile, the giggle…she couldn’t help herself. She was tumbling head over heels for this child.
Who wasn’t hers. Who would never be. Who would leave soon.
“Are you sad, Nettie?”
“Yes.” Jeanette hitched a ragged sigh. “Poor Daisy Bear…to not to be able to eat pancakes…” She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, though there were some forming in her heart, as well.
“You’re so silly. Oh, look! It has those bubbles! So we can turn it now?”
“I think you should be the one.” She handed the spatula to the little girl, who stared up with huge eyes.
“Really?”
“Really. Just slide it under the center, then twist your wrist like this.” She demonstrated.
Tongue caught between her teeth, Maisie focused fiercely on the griddle. The pancake wobbled, then landed a little over the edge. “Oh no!”
“It’s fine. Don’t try to move it now or it will fall apart. No big deal.”
Maisie frowned. “It’s not right.”
“It’s your first time. I think it’s great.”
“You do?”
“Cross my heart.” She demonstrated. Then she reached for the plate. “Okay, now I’ll hold the plate for you, and you pick it up.”
“Now? It’s not too soon?”
“The second side cooks more quickly, so you should be good to go. You can peek a little if you want. Just tip up the edge.”
Walker could see that Henry was sincere. “I’ve only been here a few times.”
“You’ve played at special occasions and you’ve helped build the clinic and remodel the courthouse. You belong here now, and you know how Sweetgrass is. When you become a part of this place, you never really leave.”
He’d been leaving all his life.
But Henry’s words touched something deep inside him, a place where his words were water on dry land. He cleared his throat. “I appreciate you saying that, Henry.”
“It’s true. You should think about doing the service here. You’d always be able to come back.” Henry hesitated. “Someday you might decide to stay. Sweetgrass makes a good home, and you’d be welcome.”
The simple honesty of Henry’s words meant more than Walker could take in right now. “I’ll give it some thought.” Not staying, of course, but…giving Lesley the home he’d never been able to grant her.
“I hope you will. And let me know if you want me to play at the service. Brenda wants to do the flowers for you as a way of thanking you for helping us find our way to each other.” At the joint surprise birthday Henry and Brenda had given each other, Walker had played and given Henry the stage to sing to Brenda to let her know his heart.
“You don’t owe me a thing. I’d be honored to have Brenda do the flowers, but I have to pay her for them.”
Henry’s jaw hardened. “No, you won’t. It’s the Sweetgrass way, Walker. You know that.”
Was he really thinking about doing the service here?
Nothing felt more right. He couldn’t stay, but giving Lesley roots in death as he hadn’t in life made some of the ache in his heart ease.
“I thank you, Henry. Please give Brenda my thanks, too. And—” He held up the guitar. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“It’s what friends do,” Henry said simply. “Come to the cafe later, and let me feed you and Maisie lunch.”
“And Jeanette?”
“If she can. I heard Hayley’s been calling the cafe for her. I guess she didn’t get finished back there.”
One more black mark on his record. He’d interrupted her best chance for a new career, and she’d taken it all in stride. He’d have to make it up to her somehow—maybe he could introduce her around Nashville, if L.A. hadn’t been to her taste, as seemed to be the case. At any rate, he couldn’t ask her to put her dreams aside for his.
“That’s my fault. But I don’t know what Maisie and I would have done without Jeanette—without all of you, really. We’ll get out of your hair soon.”
“I know you have to return to the road to finish the tour, but you remember what I said. Sweetgrass could be your home, too, and it would be good for your niece.”
His life and this one were incompatible in too many ways to count, though. “Thank you. I mean it.”
His phone rang, and he stifled a groan as he saw it was Dusty. He couldn’t keep dodging his manager forever—but at least now he had the beginnings of a plan. “I sure appreciate the loan, Henry.”
“No problem.” The younger man waved and headed off.
Walker sighed and one more time, rejected the call.
“Hi,” said his husky voice from the kitchen doorway.
She turned. “Hi yourself. You found a guitar.”
He grinned. “Thanks to you, Henry brought his. He said you thought I might need one.” He exhaled. “You’re right. Thank you.” His gaze was faraway. “Nothing else helps me clear my head like music. It’s how I work things out in my head.”
“What’s troubling you?” She halted, rolled her eyes. “Or shall we start a list?”
“Probably. Dusty just called again. I was going to answer, but…”
“Dusty can wait. How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy,” he answered. “But I can cook them.”
“No, you just sit down. Maybe a good meal will help clear your thinking, too.” She cracked two eggs into the pan, then looked at his size and decided to add a third.
“Where’s Maisie?”
“Still asleep.”
“You’re amazing with her. I saw you two in bed together. You could have put her back with me.”
“And have you twisted up even more like a pretzel? It was fine. Really. She’s a big ole armful of sweetness, isn’t she?”
Warmth filled his gaze. “She is. I just wish—” He shook his head.
She took his plate to him. “Will this work?”
“It looks great and smells even better.” He grabbed her hand. “Thank you.” Warm green eyes held hers. “I have so much I need to thank you for. I don’t know how we’d have managed without you.”
She squeezed his hand, then let go. “I’m glad to be able to help. Honestly. Do you—” She halted. “No, you just eat. More coffee? We can talk later.” At his nod, she turned and went to fill his mug.
When she returned, he was just staring at his plate.
“Anything wrong?”
“What? Oh—” He shook his head vigorously and picked up utensils. “No. Not with this, at any rate.” He took a bite and moaned. “Oh yeah…the body thanks you.”
The body. His body. She had spent too many hours trying to forget everything about his bare flesh, his muscles, his skilled hands and lips and tongue.
She cleared her throat and returned to scramble her own eggs.
Walker was silent as he ate, and she was grateful for the reprieve. They would have to deal with reality sooner rather than later, but for now…a little peace was in order.
“I just can’t seem to find a solution,” he said from behind her.
She turned, plate in hand, and joined him. “For what? Maisie or a service for your sister?”
“Both.” He sighed. “But a service for Lesley is something that needs figuring out first. Henry urged me to accept Jackson’s offer to bury Lesley up there with Veronica’s first husband.”
“I think you should. It’s a beautiful spot.”
“But…she wasn’t part of Sweetgrass. That seems intrusive.”
“She’s part of you, and you’re part of Sweetgrass.”
“That’s what everyone keeps saying, but—”
“You don’t want to be?”
“No—never that. I’ve just…” He looked away, and the longing on his face wounded her. “I’ve never belonged anywhere.”
That took her aback. Yes, she knew he had no other family, but still…he ruled his world. Millions of people hung on his every note. He could belong anywhere he wanted to, yet he felt as though he belonged nowhere. She stared at him, trying to assemble this new image of Walker Roundtree, the man who had everything.
Didn’t he?
Wow. She touched his forearm. “Walker, don’t you know how special you are to people around here? Everyone else feels that you fit in—look at all you’ve done. You’ve been here for some of the pivotal moments in many lives, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into doing important work, as well as being part of special occasions like Scarlett’s wedding, Ruby’s, Bridger’s and Jackson’s—of course you belong.”
His eyes were wide as he stared right back. “I have never thrown myself wholeheartedly into anything but music before.” He looked down as if ashamed. “I…sure, I get a welcome mat in all kinds of places, but that’s Walker the star, not…me.”
Not that abandoned boy, she thought he meant. And her heart broke for him.
“I’ve seen the real you,” she said softly. When his head jerked up, expression so vulnerable, she continued. “We all have. You’re not the star when you’re here, Walker, and you don’t ever have to be. That’s not why we value you. Who you are, just Walker, is more than enough.”
He seemed…bewildered. “I don’t—”
She clasped his fingers in hers and squeezed. “You are cherished here, Walker Roundtree, in your jeans and t-shirts. And Maisie will be, too.”
His eyes were dark and vulnerable. “I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about her,” he whispered. “I don’t want her growing up on the road, but…that’s how I make my living. It’s all I know.”
“How much more money do you need to make? When is enough?”
He frowned. “It’s not the money—”
She knew her brows had flown high.
“Okay, sure, I like what it buys, but you’re right. I’ve invested wisely and I don’t have a lot of expensive tastes—”
She couldn’t resist a snicker.
He mock-frowned right back. “You have no idea what some of my competitors blow day in and day out. I’m thrifty compared to them.”
“Yeah, I noticed the coupons on your fridge and the Walmart decor in your tiny bus.”
He grinned. “Witch.”
“Poser,” she shot back.
He laughed, and she laughed with him.
Then he heaved a sigh. “That felt good. I haven’t had much reason to laugh since Dusty called.”
“We’ll find more to laugh about, promise.”
“For real?” His gaze seemed earnest.
“You can take that to the bank.” She finished up her plate. “Do you want more?”
He shook his head. “It was great, though. Thanks. I’ll clean up.” He rose, picked up her empty plate and his.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I believe chores were mentioned.” He arched one eyebrow. “You might have noticed the toilet seat is down, too.”
She had to chuckle. She rose, then, to help him clear. “I think Henry and Jackson are right. I’ll help them care for her grave after you go.”
His shoulders went rigid.
“That’s not what you want? It’s okay if it—”
He turned and pulled her into his arms while she held salt and pepper shakers and a honey bear. “I don’t want to go,” he said softly and buried his face in her hair.
Her eyes stung. How desperately she didn’t want him to leave, either. “But you will. You have to.”
He nodded. Then he let her go. Cleared his throat. “First things first. If you’re sure I’m not overstepping, I can’t think of anything I’d like more—or she would have, for that matter—than to bury her here. So will you help me organize the details, Sarge?” His attempt at a teasing smile wasn’t altogether convincing, and she was afraid to read too much into his eyes.
But oh, how she wanted to.
First things first. “I’d be very glad to.”
He nodded but remained stock-still. “I will never figure out how to thank you for this. All of it.”
“No thanks needed, but I appreciate the sentiment very much.”
Companionably they cleaned the kitchen…but beneath the easy silence was a warm yet aching hum.
Chapter Eleven
“Dusty.”
“You sonofabitch.”
“I know. I just—”
“Do I have to remind you that everything I do is for your sake? Yet you leave me out here with my ass hanging in the wind?”
Walker wanted to argue about whose interests Dusty most wanted to serve, but he couldn’t quarrel that an unfair burden had been placed on his manager’s head. “I’m sorry. I had a hard time figuring out what to do.”
“You got it now?”
Not really Not the most important part.
But first things first, as he and Jeanette agreed. “Well, I have the funeral figured out, at least.”
“Nashville? I’ve been working on arrangements—”
“No. No public service. And nothing in Nashville. I’m burying Lesley here”
“In Podunk? Why the hell would you do that?”
Once he would have asked the same, so he tried not to blame Dusty. “You don’t understand this place. You should spend some time here and you’d see—”
“I’d sooner go back to booking bar bands.”
You may get your chance, he wanted to say. “Okay, you don’t have to understand, but it’s what’s best for Maisie. And for me.”
“So when should I show up?”
Walker winced. “Actually…”
“Don’t tell me. I’m to keep playing decoy. And lying to half the known universe. How long do you expect me to keep this up, huh? They’re going to find you eventually.”
That was what he was deathly afraid of. The hunt would only cease when he resurfaced.
“Not much longer,” he said. “And I’m sorry. I mean that. After this, you need to take a big vacation, and I’m paying. I owe you, Dusty. I know that.”
“You damn sure do.” But Dusty’s rancor had moderated. “Can you tell me when this ends?”
No. And I don’t want to. He was painfully tempted never to go back to the life he’d been living. Every day away made that life seem less real.
Anyway, he couldn’t ever go back, not completely. Now there was Maisie.
“How’s the kid?” Dusty asked as if he read minds.
“She loves this place. It’s good for her, too.”
“And the bimbo? She happy to have you in her clutches?”
“Do not talk about her like that. Not ever again, do you hear me?”
“Dude, do not tell me you’re falling for that…whatever the hell she is.”
That very good woman. That sexy siren. That…friend as he’d never had another. And was he? Falling for her?
He couldn’t. Not because of her but because of him. He was wrecked inside, and he was beginning to see he’d only wallpapered over the damage all these years.
A woman like Jeanette deserved someone who had his act together. Who knew what he wanted. Who could give her his whole heart.
Music had owned him for most of his life. He was music’s willing subject.
And Jeanette was a queen in her own right.
“The longer you don’t say anything, the more I think your goose is cooked, my man. So bring her and the kid on the road.”
“It’s no life for a family, you know that. And they both deserve better.”
“So will she keep the kid for you?”
“The kid has a name, Dusty. And Jeanette has her own dreams, her own goals. They don’t include someone else’s child being dropped in her lap.”
“So what the hell are you planning to do?”
“I don’t know, all right?” He was practically shouting. “I don’t know, and I want you to leave me the hell alone while I figure it out.”
“You don’t have time to navel-gaze, Walker. In case you forgot, there’s a tour waiting for you. Or not waiting, as the case may be. The label is furious that you dropped off the radar. We have to give them something. We have to give the venues some answers. That’s to say nothing of the fans, the press—”
His gut twisted. “I’ll talk to you later, Dusty.”
“Later when? I’m not hanging out here by myself much longer. When, Walker?”
Damn it. He knew he was being irresponsible. “Three days. Give me three days.”
“That’s six tour dates you will have missed.”
“Then check on rescheduling.” Though the thought of extending this nightmare made him want to crawl out of his skin.
And when the hell did he ever think of his life’s work as a nightmare?
“Three days, Walker. Then I’m telling them where you are.”
“Don’t you dare—”
But Dusty was already gone.
He looked ravaged as he returned.
“Uncle Bub!” Maisie leaped off Jeanette’s lap.
He quickly smoothed his features and smiled, opening his arms wide to the little girl. “Good morning!”
But Jeanette could tell something had happened, though he closed his eyes and put his all into the hug.
Quickly Maisie lifted her head, her little hands clasping his face, chattering away about the new doll, Sweetie, and how she and Nettie would work on the lookalike doll and what Daisy Bear had said to her this morning—
“Would you like to cook your pancakes now, Maisie?”
“Yes!” She climbed into the chair beside Jeanette.
“Now you remember all of this is hot, right? You have to be very careful.” She glanced over at Walker and saw his relief, barely covering the disquiet, the upheaval that had accompanied him after his call. She’d like to be able to ask him what was wrong, to do something to help him.
But this was what she could do right now: buy him a little space. She pasted on a smile. Mouthed I got this.
He nodded back. “I’m just going to—” He pointed outside, and she let him escape.
“Uncle Bub doesn’t want pancakes?”
“He already ate. Do you think Daisy Bear would like some?”
Maisie wrinkled her nose. “You know Daisy Bear can’t really eat food, right, Nettie?”
“No! For real?” Jeanette gasped, and Maisie giggled. “Are you sure?”
The wide smile, the giggle…she couldn’t help herself. She was tumbling head over heels for this child.
Who wasn’t hers. Who would never be. Who would leave soon.
“Are you sad, Nettie?”
“Yes.” Jeanette hitched a ragged sigh. “Poor Daisy Bear…to not to be able to eat pancakes…” She wiped an imaginary tear from her eye, though there were some forming in her heart, as well.
“You’re so silly. Oh, look! It has those bubbles! So we can turn it now?”
“I think you should be the one.” She handed the spatula to the little girl, who stared up with huge eyes.
“Really?”
“Really. Just slide it under the center, then twist your wrist like this.” She demonstrated.
Tongue caught between her teeth, Maisie focused fiercely on the griddle. The pancake wobbled, then landed a little over the edge. “Oh no!”
“It’s fine. Don’t try to move it now or it will fall apart. No big deal.”
Maisie frowned. “It’s not right.”
“It’s your first time. I think it’s great.”
“You do?”
“Cross my heart.” She demonstrated. Then she reached for the plate. “Okay, now I’ll hold the plate for you, and you pick it up.”
“Now? It’s not too soon?”
“The second side cooks more quickly, so you should be good to go. You can peek a little if you want. Just tip up the edge.”
