Mind Games, page 27
“Boy, did I. We. Quirt—that’s her man—he comes running in, as she called him when she was making her way down to us. He’s panicked, and he hyperventilates five seconds after he rushes in and sees what’s what. And keels over like a felled tree.”
“Oh, Maddy.” Thea laughed.
“Oh yeah. Now we’ve got Quirt out cold on the floor with a knot on his head the size of a golf ball, and Alley pushing the baby out, and crying ’cause she thinks he’s dead—Quirt, that is. It’s just me and Arlo at that time because everyone had gone home for the day.”
She took another long drink. “So I stick with Alley, Arlo’s dealing with Quirt and telling Alley how Quirt’s just passed out is all. Then the baby comes, adds a nice set of lungs to the mix.”
“How’s Quirt?”
“Head like a rock, so he’ll be fine. Arlo brought him around, got him up. Quint takes one look at the baby, bawls like one himself.”
Maddy sighed as Thea felt most of the hard day slide off her friend’s shoulders.
“A sweetness to that,” she added. “But I boot him out before what happens after the baby comes happens so he doesn’t pass out again.”
“Babies poop in diapers,” Bray informed them, and colored another truck.
“They do, all right. Good thing we had some on hand. After everything’s said and done, we call Alley’s mama. She’s going to look after the three of them, so Arlo’s driving them on home.”
She drank again. “And how was your Saturday?”
“It feels somehow uneventful.”
Smiling, Maddy settled back. “I’d like one of those sometime.”
When the pizza arrived, Maddy started to slide out. “Let me get out of your way.”
“Sit,” Ty told her. “If delivering a baby doesn’t earn pizza, nothing does.”
Pleased, Thea closed her hand over Maddy’s. “What did they name her?”
“Carleen Rose, after both their mamas. I don’t want to horn in more than I have. Arlo’s coming along in a few minutes.”
“I’ll get another chair.”
When he got up to do just that, Maddy looked over at Thea. “I’m sorry. My mouth just ran.”
“Don’t be. This is nice. It’s perfect.” She took a slice off the serving pan, slid it onto a plate. “Here you go, Bray. The correct kind of pizza.”
It turned into a little party when gangly, goateed Arlo arrived. More pizza, more wine, talk of new babies and play sets and monster trucks.
Ty relaxed into it. Small-town life, he supposed, had moments like this, if you decided to take them. He could give Bray this if they stayed. Good neighbors, a pizza place where a waitress knew a kid liked trucks, a visiting dog, a kind of honorary grandmother just down the road, a small school where an active, energetic boy would surely make friends.
A good place to raise kids, Lucy had said. It felt like it.
And, bonus, a quiet, private place to work.
The scale grew heavier on that side of things nearly every day.
Bray’s eyes drooped by the time Ty strapped him back into his car seat. And still, he managed a slurry, “Nighttime swing.”
“That’s right, pal.”
“He’s already out,” Thea murmured when Ty came around and got behind the wheel.
“Yeah, and he’ll wake up about midnight, I figure, come in, and remind me I promised he could have a nighttime swing.”
“And you’ll take him out?”
“A promise is a promise.”
She could imagine it, the father dragging himself out of bed to push his little boy on a swing under the stars.
“Grammie was right. He has a good daddy.”
“He’s everything.”
“Exactly how it should be.”
He glanced over. “I like your friends.”
“Me, too. Do you miss yours? You were friends, not just bandmates.”
“Still are friends—the best I’ve ever had. And yeah, sometimes, I miss just dropping down, having a beer, sharing a pizza. Everybody’s busy, that’s how it works. But we connect. We did a video call just yesterday. Mac’s got his solo tour coming up, Scott’s lady’s expecting their second in January, and he’s working on a book about Code Red—God help us all—and Blaze just signed to do a guest shot on a pilot. Some streaming show about werewolves.”
“Well, I’ll be all over that.”
“You’re a werewolf fan?”
“I wonder about anyone who isn’t. Do you miss performing?”
“Now and again.” His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, and back to his son.
“If the breeze is right, I hear you playing. Faint, like dream music. And it’s lovely. So that’s almost a performance—for one.”
“I’ll take it. What I don’t miss is touring. Mac thrived on it, so he’s the first to go back into it. For me? It’s nice knowing where you are when you wake up.”
“Nice, I imagine, to walk into a pizza parlor and be able to eat like everyone else.”
“You’re not wrong. And it was nice to have you there. I’m getting a grill,” he added as he turned into the lane and continued up. “Once I do, I want your family over. I can cook a steak on the grill. Steak, burgers, dogs. Haven’t mastered chicken, but I will.”
“My family’s always ready for a summer barbecue. I really enjoyed this, all of it. Play set through pizza.”
“So did I.”
She opened her door, slipped out. “Good night, Ty.”
“Good night.”
He waited, heard the dog let out a woof as she walked to the door. Then she was inside.
He drove back down the lane, carried his sleeping boy into the house, and put him to bed.
* * *
Though the clock read closer to one, Bray remembered. As a promise mattered, Ty dragged himself up and gave his wide-awake son that nighttime swing.
Up on the rise, lights glimmered—those little lights she had on the trees on her front lawn, he thought, and a stronger one he thought must be from a window.
He wondered if Thea kept one on through the night, or if she worked late.
Either way, he liked seeing those lights shine from up the lane.
Chapter Nineteen
Through the long, bright days of July, Riggs stayed out of her head.
Thea decided if she could have dreamed a perfect summer, it would flow just like this one. Early mornings working in the gardens, then hours spent on a new project she believed in.
And now knew, from very personal experience, offered damn exciting gameplay.
Add flowers blooming in the sun, and soft rains slaking their thirst. They offered a bounty she could bring indoors and spread throughout her home.
And now and again, a wild and windy storm to blow in and leave the air sparkling clean.
She had her green hills with their mystical hint of blue rising, and wildflowers popping in sun spots on the floor of the woods.
Her quiet was disturbed in the best way with a boy’s giddy laughter or music, sometimes both, carrying up to her on warm breezes.
With all that, she could mark July down as close to idyllic.
True to his word, Ty had her, Lucy, and Rem for steaks on the grill. Rem brought sweet corn fresh from the field, and Thea new potatoes from her garden roasted in homemade butter.
But Lucy’s apple stack cake proved the biggest hit with the new neighbors.
“So yummy,” Bray declared, and stuffed more in his mouth. “Grammie cake is yum.”
“Grammie cake’s freaking awesome.”
Bray’s eyes danced as he echoed his father. “Freaking awesome.”
“Nobody makes an apple stack cake like Grammie,” Rem agreed. “Thea comes close, but Grammie sets the bar.”
“I’ve been making them, well, too many years to count. My mama taught me, then decided mine beat hers, so she said: Lucy, you top your mama, so that’s your doing now. I retire. God knows she had enough to handle after my daddy passed—young, like my Zachariah. The mines took them both young. So I did most of the baking.”
“You’re better at it than Gran. And if you tell her I said that,” Rem continued, “well, I’ll run for the hills.”
“Better run fast. She may not catch you, but if something comes to hand to throw, she’ll knock you flat. Always had an arm on her, and deadly aim with it.”
“Where is she now?” Ty asked.
“In Atlanta, living the high life with her second husband. Married, good lord, near to forty years now. A sweetheart of a man, and one with deep pockets who worships the ground she walks on.”
“And you stayed.”
“This is home for me. It never quite was for my mama after she lost Daddy. You’ll meet them at Christmas. Everyone comes for Christmas.”
“Santa comes here?”
“Why, of course he does, Bray. I can tell you he dotes on sugar cookies. And in that area, Thea’s beat mine, so she’ll give you some to set out for him this year.”
“I’ll do that,” Thea agreed, “but it’s best if you help me make them.”
“I don’t know how to.”
“We’re not big bakers.”
Thea just smiled at Ty. “Then it’s best you both help me. Santa knows when love and fun go into them. Rem and I baked them with my mom, and it was always fun.”
“Where’s your mom?” Bray asked her.
“She’s in heaven.”
“My mom went there, too. But I was a baby and don’t ’member.”
“She remembers you.”
“Okay.” Then he looked down at his plate. “Where’d my cake go?”
Laughing, Ty drilled a finger in his belly, then cut him another small slice.
“Are you going to play that banjo you brought along with you, Lucy?”
“I was hoping you’d ask. I’m betting you’ve got a guitar inside.”
“I’ve got twelve. I can’t seem to stop.”
“Well, you go pick one. I say you and me sit on the porch and make some music while these two clear up the rest of the table.”
While Bunk entertained Bray, Lucy took a chair on the porch, tuned up her banjo. Ty brought out a guitar.
“My goodness, that’s a fine instrument.”
“No matter how many I end up with, when I want acoustic, I reach for the Hummingbird.” He fiddled with the tuning. “You start. I’ll catch up.”
“Since we’re sitting where we’re sitting, we’ll play to that.” Lucy sent him a wink and a smile. “Now, let’s see what you’ve got, boy.”
She hit the quick and fast notes of “Foggy Bottom Breakdown,” and had Ty giving a low whistle.
“You don’t fool around.”
But he found the rhythm and the key, and went for it.
“Listen to that,” Thea murmured. “Whoever thought Grammie’d sit on the porch of Miss Leona’s place having a session with Tyler Brennan?”
“They sound damn good. That’s the first I’ve heard about Bray’s mother.”
“I know. Is it harder to remember or not to?” Thea shook her head. “I wouldn’t trade a single memory for anything, but he’s such a happy kid.”
“He’s all that. So, now you know, field’s clear.”
“What field?”
“Don’t be thick.” Rem tapped his knuckles on her head.
“Don’t be stupid,” she shot back. “He’s looking for a friend. Friends.”
“I’m friends with women. Still want some touch.”
Ignoring him, she wrapped the rest of the cake.
Lucy segued into “I’ll Fly Away” as Thea stepped out. And added her voice.
“Somebody’s got pipes,” Ty commented.
With another wink, Lucy looked at Thea. “Take the harmony, darling.”
“I’ll fly away, oh Glory.”
“More than one somebody.” Then Ty shook his head as Rem stepped out, added his voice to the old mountain hymn.
“You’re a hell of a trio.”
“We’ve been at it since they were about your boy’s age. Let’s hear one of yours, Tyler. This time I’ll catch up.”
Thea recognized the song from the first bar.
“Just One.”
“Just one breath,” he sang in that easygoing tenor. “Just one look.”
It didn’t surprise her when her grandmother found notes to pluck to fill in. But it did when Lucy knew the words and sang with him.
“And I was lost, that’s all it took.”
And it took her back, Thea thought, and brought her here, to the moment all at the same time.
She watched something weave between the woman who’d given her home and the man who’d once filled a young girl’s dreams. It was lovely to see that connection twine together.
“How about we switch?” He held the guitar out to Lucy.
“Oh my, I’ve never held an instrument so fine.”
She passed him her banjo. “Do you know what to do with that one?”
“Oh, I know a few things.” To make her laugh, he played the opening of “Dueling Banjos.”
“I’m going to take that challenge.”
They played, faster, faster, until even Bray stopped running to come closer and listen.
“Where’d you learn the banjo?”
Ty just shrugged. “Just sort of picked it up along the way.”
“You picked it up mighty fine. My daddy taught me, and my uncle, that’d be Michael John Riley, could handle a guitar. Their sister, my aunt Mae, she burned up a fiddle, I swear. Plenty of nights we sat on the porch just like this and played half the night. A little sipping whiskey, or moonshine if Michael John brought a jug. Those were some days.”
She sat back, sighed. “You’ve brought some good memories back, Ty, and given me some brand-new ones to hold. I’m taking them home with me.”
“How about one more, just to cap it off. Your bluegrass again.”
“All right. You may know this one from the movie, but it goes back a lot farther.”
As before, Thea knew the song from the first guitar riff, and clapped her hands as Lucy belted out “I Am a Man of Constant Sorrow.”
She gave Rem an elbow bump, and they joined for the response, in harmony, while Ty picked the banjo.
“Great song, great movie,” Ty said at the end.
“And the right ending of a happy time.” Lucy traded instruments again. “Thank you, gentlemen, for your hospitality.” After passing Rem the banjo, she scooped Bray up for a hug, then wrapped her arms around Ty. “You’re making a fine home here. A home’s brighter, I think, when it’s got plenty of books, plenty of music in it.”
Then she cupped Ty’s face in her hands. “Miss Leona was a smart woman. Rem, if you’re staying, I can walk on home.”
“I leave with the girl I came with.” He closed her banjo in its case, lifted it. “Thanks, Ty. You’ve got some grill there. When I build my place, I’m getting one to match it. Need a lift, Thea?”
“Bunk and I are fine walking. I’ll walk off that meal, and he’ll walk off all the scraps people snuck him when they thought I wasn’t looking. Night, Grammie.”
She turned back to Ty. “And she’s right, as always. This was a very happy time in the fine home you’re making. Thanks for all of it.”
Before she could call the dog, Ty sat again. “Know this one?”
At the opening chords, she laughed. “I know them all, from my stalker days.”
“Sing it with me. From the morning light till the dark of night, it’s always you.”
“Always you, ever you. Through the rain, all through the pain, it’s always you.”
“Always you,” Ty sang, watching her, “ever you. Key change, take the lead.”
“When I can’t see through the tears and I’m lost in all my fears, I turn to you. And you, you open your arms to me, you bring out the best in me.”
“Always you, ever you.”
He took the next verse, and they merged voices on the refrain.
When they sang the last note, he set the guitar aside.
“You never thought of doing something with that?” He tapped his throat.
“I just did.”
“I mean professionally.”
“No, that’s not for me. I like singing on the porch, or in the parlor. I’m not shy really, but performing, seriously, that takes a different kind of skill and drive and need, I guess. I don’t have it. I like the quiet.”
“I hear that. Can I get you another glass of wine?”
“No, thanks. Plus, our kids are tired out.”
He followed her direction, saw Bray curled up with the big dog on the deck of the porch. “He’s like a light switch. On, then off.”
They made a sweet picture, she thought, the boy and the dog. She’d take it with her.
“You need help getting him into bed?”
“No. It’s routine.” Bending, he picked up his boy, laid the limp weight of him over his shoulder.
“You’re good at it.” She leaned in to kiss Bray’s head. Before she could back away, Ty took her arm. And took her mouth with his, lightly, very lightly. But he lingered while her heart did one long, slow roll inside her.
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.” But, a little wobbly, she stepped back. “I don’t mind. Come on, Bunk, time for home. Good night, Ty, and thanks for everything.”
She laughed at herself as she nearly stumbled off the porch, then turned, walking backward with the laugh still in her eyes.
“Especially that last little thing.”
She knew he watched her walk up the lane because she couldn’t help herself and opened her mind to it. So she knew he watched her walking as dusk began to settle, and the last lights bled out of the sky.
He watched her as he stood on his back porch with a sleeping boy over his shoulder.
* * *
“What kind of a kiss?” Maddy demanded answers as she watched Thea try out different moves for a fight scene. “I mean, was it a good-night-neighbor sort of peck, or an mmm-mmm-baby kiss?”
“Between.” Thea swung into a back kick. “Leaning toward good-night-neighbor.” She fell back, blocked an imaginary blow, and tried a straight jab. “That’s not working.”
She paused, hands on hips of workout shorts, closed her eyes. “Roundhouse, better.”
