Wild Nashville Ways Page 5
Alice gave me a sympathetic look. “I know how much you wanted the baby you lost.” She picked at her sandwich. “Is there anything that can be done to help you have kids in the future?”
“Some women with my condition are able to conceive on their own, but that’s rare. Mostly they suggest in vitro or donor eggs. Only that’s not foolproof, either.”
“Do they think your miscarriage was associated with this?”
“No, but what if by some off chance, I did get pregnant and then lost it again? What if I’m prone to recurring miscarriages? There’s no way to know for sure.”
“I don’t blame you for being scared, especially after everything you’ve already been through.”
“My doctor suggested a support group. But I don’t want to discuss my life with a bunch of strangers. I keep hoping that once Dash goes home, I’ll be able to cope a little better.”
“I’ll always be here. You can talk to me anytime.”
“Thank you.” Without her, I would be lost.
When it came time for me to leave, she gave me an extra big hug, and I struggled not to cry on her shoulder.
I drove back to Pop’s with his cookies on the seat next to me. Once I got there, I pulled into the driveway and stayed in my truck for a few minutes, preparing to see Dash again.
Finally, I opened the front door and spotted him and my dad sitting at the kitchen table, playing Scrabble.
They both glanced up and smiled. Then Pop said, “I was getting bored being in my room all the time.”
“It’s nice to see you up and about,” I replied. Aside from his walks, he’d been holed up in bed.
“Come join us.” He coaxed me over to them.
I set the cookies on the counter. Pop was thriving in Dash’s care. It even seemed as if they were family. And they would have been if Dash and I had gotten married and had the baby. But all of that was gone, I reminded myself.
Long, long gone.
Four
Dash
I’d spent a week so far with Tracy and her dad, and it had almost come to feel like home. Today I was alone in the yard, watching the mares and their foals in pasture. A four-month-old filly, with a heart-shaped patch on her forehead, romped past me. She was a playful little thing, leaping and bouncing and crow-hopping, as if she was trying to make me smile.
I was restless, waiting to hear from Zeke. He hadn’t gotten word from Customs yet, but he was supposed to receive a report from the lab today.
Would it reveal that the person who’d sent the letter was my mom, playing a cat and mouse game with me?
She’d always been a master at messing with people’s emotions. Even when I was a kid, I knew she was different from my friends’ moms. She needed more attention than theirs. Sometimes she even flirted with their fathers or older brothers or whatever guy was around.
My dad used to say that she’d been trouble from the start, but he’d still wanted her from the moment they’d met. She’d been fascinated with him in the beginning, too. She’d swooned over his good looks and noticeable talent. But when he didn’t hit the big time, her feelings for him waned. She’d hated being poor. She’d loathed it more than anything.
Mom had grown up in foster care, with aspirations to be rich. Only she hadn’t been interested in earning her wealth herself. She’d wanted a man to take care of her, to make her feel special.
If the letter writer was my mother, was that what she was after? To have her son make her feel special, for the kid she’d abandoned to share his success with her? Or was there another motive? I just wished that damned report would come in, with some sort of conclusive evidence.
Suddenly I heard approaching footsteps behind me. They were too light to be Zeke’s. He wasn’t here with the lab results. I sensed it was Tracy.
As she joined me at the fence, I turned to look at her. Her thick brown hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Her blouse was a delicate floral print that reminded me of the wildflowers I used to pick for her from a field near my old apartment. I used to nab flowers for my mom, too, from other people’s yards. I’d gotten stung by a bee doing that once, which seemed rather fitting now.
Tracy said, “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting a feed delivery today. They’ll probably be here in about twenty minutes, so if you don’t want to get recognized, you should probably go back inside soon.”
“I will, thanks. How’s your work going?” When I’d gotten up this morning, she’d been engrossed in one of her virtual assistant assignments.
“It’s fine. I’m just taking a break.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Pop is watching one of those goofy old Westerns in his room.”
“He likes that early stuff. My dad did, too. Except his favorites were the singing cowboys. It doesn’t get any goofier than that.”
She laughed and nudged my arm. “You’re a singing cowboy.”
“Not in the movies.” I laughed as well, and got a warm, fuzzy feeling from being silly with her.
I liked that she was joking around. But she sobered quickly, as if she’d done something wrong, and we both went quiet. The filly with the heart on its forehead came over to us, and I reached out to pet her nose. Tracy watched me with a sad expression. Was she thinking about the child we’d lost?
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She touched the filly, too. “For what?”
“For everything, I guess.”
“Everything?”
I hesitated, working up the courage to say what I meant. She watched me, waiting for my response. Finally, I said, “I’m sorry for not being ready for fatherhood when you got pregnant.”
She drew her hand back. “It’s over. All of that is over.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry.” As the filly wandered over to her mother, I felt an even bigger sense of loss. “You deserved to have a partner who wasn’t so damned scared.”
She gripped the fence so hard I feared she might give herself a splinter. I was making her tense, bringing up a subject that pained her. But I couldn’t seem to let it go. I’d spent years regretting how our relationship had ended, and now she was right in front of me. I would be a fool to pass up the opportunity to explain how deeply her miscarriage had affected me, too.
I gently said, “I’ve thought a lot about the baby, wondering if it was a boy or girl. Sometimes when I see kids around the age ours would’ve been, I try to imagine what he or she would’ve been like now. Would its eyes be blue, like yours, or dark like mine? Would it be calling your dad a funny name for grandpa?”
Her breath rushed out. “I’ve thought about things like that, too. But we can’t change what happened.”
“I know. I just wanted to say my piece.” Was this conversation a mistake? Or was it good that I cleared the air? Tracy still seemed sad. I felt heavy inside, too. But that didn’t stop me from asking, “Have you ever dated anyone with children?”
“No.” She removed her hands from the rail. “Have you?”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t do it unless the kids were going to become a significant part of my life, and I haven’t been serious enough about anyone to make that kind of commitment.” A second later, I amended my statement by saying, “You’re the only woman I’ve ever been in a relationship with, and look how I botched that up.”
She glanced away. I’d made her uncomfortable again. That had become my forte, it seemed.
“You should go back to the house now,” she said. “Before the delivery comes.”
“Are you coming inside, too?”
She nodded, and we turned and fell into step together. A light breeze stirred the air and Tracy’s hair blew away from her face, exposing a pair of tiny silver spur earrings.
“I haven’t been to the feedstore since I got famous,” I said. “But I should probably stop in sometime and say hello.”
“I can see her doing that.” She was the brassy old lady who owned it, a bleached-and-teased blonde who smoked like a fiend and kept a flask of Johnnie Walker in her office drawer. “Maybe I’ll drop by on a day that you’re there.”
“That’s okay. You don’t have to involve me.”
Damn, I thought. Could she be any more difficult? “I’m just trying to find an excuse to see you when all of this is over.”
She stared straight ahead. “That isn’t necessary.”
I refused to give up so easily. “I want to make it better, Tracy, to at least work toward healing some of those old wounds. I think we should try to be friends.”
She tucked her shoulder away from mine, but I still could feel the heat between us. The emotional energy.
“I don’t think us being friends will work,” she said. “I just don’t.”
“So we’re back to square one?” I countered. No friendship. No future. No nothing. Just two people, mired in a heap of pain from the past.
* * *
Hours later, Zeke came by. I got into the passenger side of the car, and he remained behind the wheel. We didn’t go anywhere; we stayed in the driveway at Tracy’s dad’s house. But the SUV gave us a private place to talk.
Zeke looked like his usual self, big and broad and professional, his suit expertly pressed, his tie knotted good and tight. I probably looked nervous; I was fraught with anticipation, eager to hear his news.
“The fingerprint tests were inconclusive,” he said. “Too many people handled the letter and the envelope, and they couldn’t get any clear prints. They couldn’t extract DNA from anything, either.”
Well, hell. “They didn’t get anything useful?”
“The only thing they were able to do was to determine what brand of lipstick was used. It was from Chanel. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Actually, it does.” I released the air in my lungs. “Chanel was my mother’s favorite designer. She always wanted my dad to buy her one of their signature handbags, but he couldn’t afford anything like that. He used to get her their cosmetics instead. For her birthdays, for Christmas.” I glanced over at the report in his hand. “What’s the likelihood that someone else, besides my mother, would have kissed that damned envelope with the same kind of lipstick she used?”
“I have some other information about your mother,” he said, grabbing my full attention. “I did a little digging and discovered that all of her credit cards were canceled a few weeks ago. They were being provided by her boyfriend, but he took them away.”
“They’re not together anymore?”
“That’s how it looks. She closed her bank account in Mexico, too. My assumption is that she’s living on cash now. She didn’t have a substantial balance, so it’s not going to go far, especially if she’s back in the States. But until I hear from my Customs contact, that remains to be seen.”
Exhausted from it all, I ran my hands across my face. “She has to be the one who wrote the letter. Now that she and her current lover are on the outs, she’s probably after my money. I figured she was, anyway. But this more or less seals it for me.”
Zeke nodded. He looked sorry for the way it was turning out. But we both knew Lola the letter writer was trouble, no matter who she was. He said, “I’ll text you as soon I get word on her possible whereabouts. Or if I come across anything else.”
I glanced at the house. “I should get back inside.” I didn’t want to pique Tracy’s curiosity, sitting in Zeke’s car, having a long conversation.
She jumped to conclusions, anyway. When I entered the living room, she peered up from her laptop and asked, “Is there a breach somewhere?”
“A breach?” I parroted inanely.
“Did someone find out that you’re here? Or is there a problem with the cameras that your team set up?”
“No. Everything’s fine.” My problem had nothing to do with her pop’s house. “I was just having a routine meeting.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t want the press swarming around here.”
“Don’t worry. That isn’t going to happen.” After she returned her attention to her laptop, I said, “I’m going to check on the horses.” The feed delivery had already come and gone, and I was free to head outside again.
I needed to get some air, but I wanted to see the mares and their foals, too. I was fascinated by the little filly with the heart-shaped marking. I also appreciated how gentle her mother was with her, maybe because I’d never known what it was like to have a loving, caring mom of my own.
* * *
A week later, my stint as a caregiver ended. Tracy’s dad was doing well and didn’t need my help anymore. I didn’t want to go. I liked being with Tracy and her pop, but I couldn’t find an excuse to extend my stay.
Unfortunately, I still was waiting for more information about my mom, too. Nothing was happening, except for me going home.
I packed my bag, and Tracy’s dad walked outside with me to my truck. He looked so much heathier, so much stronger. But his condition would still be monitored.
“Thanks for everything you’ve done,” he said. “I’m going to miss you.”
“You can come visit me anytime. Or I can come back and hang out and play Scrabble or whatever you want to do.”
“That would be great. Valentine is going to miss you, too.”
I smiled. Valentine was his nickname for the foal I’d grown close to. “I was thinking that I’d like to buy her from you.” Of course, that was a waiting game, too. She couldn’t be sold until she was weaned.
“I’d love for you to have her. We’ll work out a deal later.”
I wished I could work out a deal to take possession of his daughter. But I couldn’t purchase her the way I would be doing with the foal. So far, Tracy hadn’t even come out to say goodbye. She’d been in her room all morning. I assumed that she was avoiding me on purpose.
He said, “I guess you didn’t have any luck convincing Tracy to record with you.”
“No, no luck.” Nothing had changed in that regard. “But I’m still open to it.”
He nodded, and we talked for a bit more about inconsequential things. He didn’t mention Tracy again.
When we said our final goodbye, he reached out to hug me, clapping me on the back in manly fashion.
After he went back inside, my phone signaled a text. I checked the message and saw the “Mom” code from Zeke.
I actually flinched a little. Had he heard from Customs? Or was it some other news that pertained to her? Whatever it was, I was going to find out soon.
I replied, telling him I was on my way home and to meet me there. Then I glanced up and saw Tracy on the porch.
She was here, after all.
She approached me, and we stared at each other. I wanted to pull her into my arms and hold tight. Hell, at this point I even imagined buying her a big-ass diamond and making her my wife, just so I didn’t have to rattle around in my mansion by myself. Suddenly my fame didn’t feel so great anymore, especially with my mother looming in the background.
“This is it,” she said. “You’re going home.”
Back to Pine Tower, I thought. A big, beautiful, secluded place that I was still getting used to. “Have you made plans for your birthday?” I asked. It was a little over a week away.
“I haven’t decided.”
“It would be great if you’d spend it with me. We could go out on the town, and you can bring whatever friends you want.”
“And get bombarded by the press? I’d never do that.”
“Then you can bring everyone to my house. We can have a party there.” I wanted to see her again, however I could.
“I don’t think I’m going to be in the mood for a party. I’m so
rry, Dash. I know you want to be friends, but I can’t hang out with you. We’ve got too much history between us.”
“Yeah, but there’s fire between us, too.” The sexual chemistry we’d been fighting, the heat that made our pulses pound. Even now, it was sizzling, moving through our bodies like a live wire. “You can’t deny it’s there.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.” Her voice cracked, as though her throat was parched. “It makes no sense.”
I disagreed. “I still want to be friends, but I want to get romantic with you again, too.” I needed to soothe the ache deep in my body, deep in my bones. “If you give me a chance, we can start over and see where it leads.”
She looked confused. “You want us to date?”
I nodded. “We could forget the past. We could let it go.”
She searched my gaze. “And replace it with what?”
“Something new and fun. I can buy you pretty things and take you places I could never afford to take you before.” I hoped that she understood how important it was for me to spoil her, to treat her like a queen. Even though it shouldn’t matter anymore, I was still carrying around the shame of not being able to buy her an engagement ring back in the day. “I understand that you’re concerned about the press, but I have access to private restaurants and clubs now.” My world had changed, and I longed to bring her into it. “We could even jet off to a private island.”
She went silent, and I waited for her to respond, hoping she would consider it.
Finally, she said, “It sounds complicated to me, being with my ex and letting him sweep me off my feet. You never loved me, Dash. So why should I bend to your will now?”
“Because love isn’t the issue. I mean, come on, it’s obvious that you don’t love me anymore. But that’s how it should be.” I didn’t want her pining over me the way she used to.
She stared unblinkingly at my face. Then she said, “No love, no muss, no fuss. Is that your theory?”