Heartsong (Singing to the Heart Book 2)

by Sara Walter Ellwood

  However, Frankie had never written a will, which meant probate court would appoint an executor to handle the estate. Fortunately, Jesse, by the simple fact that he was Frankie’s son, would inherit the funds from her estate. But Jesse was still a child, and now he was thrust into the system, too. How could Gabe’s so-called stepmother be so negligent?

  “What do you mean she never kept the appointments?” Gabe stood by a bookcase full of old, leather-bound law books in the Brownwood law office of his father’s lawyer and friend Tom Fleming.

  With a sigh, Tom shook his head full of thick, graying dark hair and leaned over his rich rosewood desk. “I think Frankie was afraid to make a will. A lot of younger people these days are. Or they don’t think they need to do it now and that they can wait until they’re older.”

  “So, what happens to Jesse?” Micki held Jesse in her lap. He was too big for her to hold, but he clung to her and quietly cried against her shoulder.

  Gabe’s heart broke at the sight. How could his father be so callous as to involve a ten-year-old boy in this mockery? Sam had given the boy an inheritance and some old junk, but he shouldn’t have been here to be subjected to all the rest.

  “Loretta, would you take Jesse out into the reception area, please?” Gabe leaned down in front of Micki and Jesse. Loretta nodded, and he rubbed over Jesse’s quivering back. Swallowing hard, Gabe met Micki’s imploring gaze before taking Jesse into his arms. “Hey, buddy, go out with Grandma for a little while, okay?”

  Jesse sobbed and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. “What’s gonna happen to me, Gabe? Will I have to go with--with Momma’s daddy? Why can’t I stay with Grandma and Micki or with you?”

  “We’ll figure it out.”

  With a hopeful gaze at Gabe, Loretta rolled her chair over to take Jesse’s hand. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go outside.”

  As they exited the office, Jesse glanced over his shoulder at Gabe. “Don’t send me away to live with that mean man.”

  “We won’t let that happen.” Micki stood and gave him a weak smile. When the door closed, she turned to the lawyer. “Now what?”

  “As the family’s lawyer, I’m going to suggest to the court to appoint me executor of Frankie’s estate.” He shrugged and leaned back in his leather chair. “Unless either of you have someone else in mind.”

  Micki shrugged and sat in her chair again. “Sounds good to me. I’d rather have a lawyer I trust take care of things than me trying to figure it out. Lemont’s less likely to take over with you handling things.”

  Gabe paced before the bookcase. “I agree. Besides, I have to go on tour.” For the first time in his career, he hated the thought of being on the road. Stopping at the end of the case, he turned and rubbed the back of his neck. “What will happen to the ranch?”

  “Since Frankie doesn’t have a will and Jesse is too young to inherit it, the Lazy M will be sold and the funds set in a trust fund for him as her sole heir. Same goes for the businesses.”

  Micki gasped and ran her hand through her long hair. She’d worn it unbound and Gabe’s fingers itched to touch it. He fisted his hands and stomped on the treacherous thought.

  “That means Momma and I will have to move.”

  “Yes. However, I’ll ask probate court to allow you to stay as long as there’s stock to be taken care of on the ranch.”

  Micki nodded, but the worry etching a frown on her forehead wasn’t eased by the news.

  “You haven’t answered our question about Jesse.” Gabe’s heart raced. He’d known Tom his entire life, and the one thing he’d always admired about him was his honesty.

  Fleming cleared his throat and leaned over his desk. “I think you both know what will happen. In most cases like this where a child is orphaned, he is given into the care of a grandparent, which means he’ll go with Lemont since Loretta wasn’t Frankie’s mother.”

  “He doesn’t even know the man.” Micki shook her head. “He’s cruel and hated both Sam and Frankie. All Lemont Finn ever wanted was a son. Why the hell do you think he named his daughters Frances and Michaela? We’re named for his grandfathers, Francis Finn and Michael Harper. He’ll twist Jesse into a ruthless man like he is. And considering the world of hurt Jesse is in right now, that might not be a hard thing to do.” She looked at Gabe, her eyes pleading him. “Please, isn’t there something you can do?”

  Gabe swallowed hard. He wanted his little brother taken care of, but he had no room in his life for a ten-year-old. “I’m his brother. Doesn’t that hold some kind of clout with the court?”

  Tom sighed and his brown eyes bore into Gabe. “I’ve represented your family for years and I considered Sam a good friend, so I won’t lie to you, Gabe. Your being Jesse’s brother normally would have some sway. However, your lifestyle is questionable. Especially for the current batch of conservative judges in the county. Maybe if you would take a break from touring, things would be different.”

  “You know I can’t do that.” He fisted both hands and shoved them into the pockets of his sports jacket as another possibility came to him. Was he crazy to suggest this? “What if Michaela and I fought for Jesse?”

  Micki turned in her seat and gaped at him. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged and sat down beside her. “Think about it. If we had joint custody of him, that would get him away from Lemont and give him a stable home with you and Loretta. I can provide for him and even help you find a place to live. Then we can adopt him.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.” Tom smiled and stood. “I think right now it’s your best option if you want to keep Jesse away from Lemont.”

  Chapter 4

  Two nights after the will reading, Micki awoke from a restless sleep to the sound of her mother’s cries. Glancing at the three a.m. hour on her alarm clock, she sighed. She’d been asleep for a whopping twenty-seven minutes.

  With a groan, she threw the covers off and dragged herself out of bed. On her way to her mother’s room, she peeked in on Jesse, who sprawled over the twin-sized bed and slept as soundly as only a kid could.

  The thoughts that had kept her up for the past few nights pounded in her head. How was she going to afford a three-bedroom apartment, even if she did find one in Bluebonnet? She had to find another job besides managing the ranch, but how was that going to work?

  Her mother cried out again. She closed Jesse’s door and trudged on to her mother’s room.

  Micki sat down on the edge of the full-sized bed. Her mother had pulled herself into a fetal position with her hands curled in under her as she moaned in pain.

  Taking a deep breath, Micki touched her mother’s shoulder and spoke softly. “Momma? I’m gonna give you some pain medicine. Do you think you can sit up?”

  Her mother shuddered and let out another wail. “It hurts!”

  “Shhh…” Micki rubbed Momma’s thin shoulder. “I’ll be right back.” She went out to the cottage’s only bathroom and returned to her mother with a glass of water and a painkiller.

  Momma protested the jostling to get her up into a sitting position, but she cooperated and swallowed the pill with water.

  “Hopefully it kicks in soon.” Micki sat the plastic cup on the table and tucked her mother under the quilt.

  Momma’s face was drawn and pale as she reached out and took one of Micki’s hands. “I’m sorry, Micki.”

  “Don’t be. You can’t help the pain you feel.” She sat on the edge of the bed again and held her mother’s cold hand. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”

  Momma glanced at their joined hands. “I’ll be fine.”

  Micki swallowed. Her mother was lying. Momma hated being dependent on anyone, including her. The doctor had explained what was happening. As her mother’s MS progressed, she’d feel pain along certain nerve roots, the most common being in the face. “We need to make an appointment with Dr. Meyers. He might be able to explain mo
re about that surgery for the trigeminal pain.”

  Momma slowly shook her head. “No. No surgery.”

  “But it can help. You’re in--”

  Her mother’s blue eyes grew stern as they narrowed. “And how are we going to pay for this fancy nerve surgery?”

  “I have some savings, and maybe I could go back out on the rodeo circuit. Beau’s still in good shape, and with a little training, we could win enough points to get into the NFR--” She’d given up barrel racing two years ago when her mother had become wheelchair bound and began needing almost constant care. She couldn’t ask Frankie to take on all the responsibility, so she retired after winning the Nationals Final Rodeo for the third time and asked Sam for a job. To her surprise, he’d made her his manager, saying he’d wanted more time for his family.

  “I can’t afford it. No, I won’t take your money. But if you really want to go back to racing, I won’t stop you. I know you miss it, and I’m so sorry you quit because of me.” Momma sniffed and slowly shook her head but didn’t meet Micki’s gaze.

  Damn, why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut about the rodeo? She took a deep breath, but before she could tell Momma how wrong she was, her mother’s hoarse, slurred speech resumed.

  “As soon as this place sells, we’ll have to move. My Social Security isn’t much, and we need a place big enough for Jesse.” Momma weakly squeezed Micki’s hand. “Mary told me she heard that Lemont is considering putting a bid on the ranch when it goes on the market Monday. You know if he does that we’ll have to leave sooner rather than later.”

  Micki’s heart fell out of the bottom of her gut and landed at her feet. “That son of a bitch.” Sam and Frankie would turn over in their graves if they knew Lemont bought their ranch. No way could they stay much longer. Bluebonnet Creek was a small community, and apartments or houses for rent were nearly nonexistent--especially one that was handicap accessible and affordable. She also had her horse and tack to consider. “I wish I could put a bid in.”

  Momma sighed and closed her eyes, as defeated as Micki. “You know around here a ranch this size would go for at least five million dollars.”

  She had a few thousand bucks, but not enough to buy the ranch. To keep the sob from escaping, she bit her lip. Crying in front of her mother wasn’t going to help. Micki had to be strong for all of them. Like she’d had to be when Momma’s illness started to affect her by stealing her strength. She’d been diagnosed with MS only two years after she and Lemont married.

  He divorced her because of it and took three-year-old Frankie and year-old Micki away from her. When he divorced her, Lemont trumped up a claim that Momma had cheated on him with a rodeo cowboy she’d grown up with. The accusation had been enough for the judge to deny her any alimony payments. She was homeless, sick, and penniless, until Gabe’s mother offered her the job of running the horse-training program on the Lazy M with her. They’d been friends from the days they’d been champion barrel racers.

  With the McKennas’ help, Momma fought him and gained custody of Micki when she was four. When Frankie turned twelve, she ran away from their father and Loretta took her in. Again with the McKennas’ help, they fought Lemont and the courts allowed Frankie to decide whom she wanted to live with. Life had never been easy for them as Loretta’s health deteriorated, but they’d had each other and they’d had love. Something Micki wasn’t sure her father was capable of.

  Squaring her shoulders, she stood, then kissed her mother’s forehead and gently squeezed her hand one more time. “We’ll think of something, Momma. We’ve been in rough spots before and we’ve made it through.”

  Her mother’s attempted smile fell flat. “I keep telling myself that, too. Now, you go back to sleep. Jesse’s an early riser.”

  Micki went back to her room as if she were walking through wet cement. She stopped to look again at the sweet boy in the room across the hall from hers and let the tears slip past the dam she’d constructed to keep them back.

  Gabe had said he’d help her, but she’d never ask him for it. How could she? He’d left her when she’d needed him the most and never looked back. Just like her father had left her and Momma.

  God, what will I do?

  * * * *

  Gabe lifted the bottle of water to his lips and stared out the French doors of the kitchen in his Nashville home. The late Wednesday morning sun sparkled on the pool in the center of his enclosed, professionally landscaped backyard. For a brief moment, he considered completing his morning workout by taking a dive into the heated, crystalline water. When was the last time he’d swam in the pool?

  He’d returned to Nashville four days ago and had gone to a meeting with several bigwigs from his record company. They were confident he would sweep the Country Music Awards in early November. His album was sitting on top of the charts, with the first three singles blasting to the top of the country charts within weeks of their releases. Sales of his first and third records were climbing into the double-platinum range. Even profits from his disastrous, self-produced second album were on the rise. His concerts were all sold out, and his agent was booking bigger venues next year.

  The executives wanted to put together a live version of his current album. Recording was to happen at his last two shows of the tour--Cheyenne, Wyoming, on Friday night and Dallas, Texas, in early October. Tomorrow morning he was flying out to Cheyenne.

  He lifted the bottle to his lips to drink again and made his way toward the front of his home into the great room. Why wasn’t he more excited? Just a couple of weeks ago this was what he worked and sweated for. Now all he could think about was the cornflower-blue eyes of a woman who’d broken his heart and the little brother he loved with all of his heart.

  He wanted to go west, but Wyoming wasn’t the place. Jesse was safe and happy with Michaela and her mother, but he was worried about him. Tom Fleming had secured temporary guardianship of Jesse for Michaela and him, but for how long wasn’t specified. Lemont hadn’t given up; that he was sure of. Leaving the little boy behind had been hard, but he couldn’t stay any longer.

  When his cell phone rang, he set his empty bottle on a marble-topped table next to a black leather couch and picked up the iPhone. He glanced at the ID, frowned, and connected the call. “Michaela?”

  “Gabe! They took him.” Micki’s voice was borderline hysterical.

  “Who took whom? Jesse?”

  “Yes! That witch in heels and pinstripes came here ten minutes ago and served me papers that said our guardianship of Jesse was revoked. Lemont petitioned the court and is going to adopt him.”

  “Fuck!” He stood straighter and tightened his hold on his phone. He had to work at unlocking his jaw to bite out, “Has Tom contacted you?”

  “Yes! He said DFPS sent you a letter.”

  He glanced at the pile of mail he’d put on the large table in the center of the dining area. The sleek chrome and glass table with its eight black leather captain chairs had never been used, except to be a place for the mail he collected every morning he arrived home after his five-mile run.

  He bounded up the step past a stone pillar supporting the loft above. When he reached the pile on the table, he started flipping through the junk and bills he’d brought in that morning. His assistant stopped by and collected the bills to pay every couple days and threw away the junk mail.

  “Gabe, are you still there?”

  “Yes. I’m checking to see if they sent me a letter.” His stomach ached when he finally found the letter from the Texas Department of Family Protective Services. “I have it.”

  “What’s it say? Don’t you know? How long have you had it?”

  He stiffened his spine and squared his shoulders at the accusation in her rapid-fire questions. Annoyed at himself more than he was at her, he glanced at the postmark. “It just came in this morning.” Thank God he hadn’t had it for longer. He ripped open the envelope and read the letter inside. “It’s from Judge Bentley Anderson and basically
informs me and you of the rescinding of our guardianship of Jesse. That he will be put into the care of his maternal grandfather until a hearing on October eighth to determine temporary custody of Jesse. The official adoption proceedings are scheduled for early next year.”

  “It’s the same letter I got served this morning.”

  He heard the disappointment. Had she hoped he’d gotten a different letter?

  “Gabe, what are we going to do?” Micki sniffed and let out a shuttering breath that tugged uncomfortably at his heart. “I don’t want to lose him.”

  Moving back into the living room, he dropped into the supple leather of his couch and let out a deep breath. “I don’t know, but I’ll think of something. I’ve got to fly out in the morning for Cheyenne, but I’ll try to swing by Bluebonnet Creek before I’m due in Dallas. I’ll call Tom and set up an appointment for us. I also know a lawyer who might help, too. The more legal muscle we have, the better.”

  “Good. Rumor is Lemont put a bid in on the ranch.” The fear and worry ripped at his heart. He hated that she was caught up in the middle of all this.

  Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the back of the couch. The thought of Lemont getting his hands on the Lazy M bothered him as much as the man gaining custody of Jesse. He gripped his phone until his hand hurt. “Damn. I won’t let you go homeless, Micki.”

  “And I told you I don’t want or need your help. We’re working together for Jesse and that’s all. I’ll take care of him and Momma.”

  Sighing, he agreed only because he was too tired to argue with her. “Okay.”

  Before he had a chance to say more, she said a quick “Goodbye” and hung up.

  He dialed Tom Fleming’s number. After finding out nothing more than what Micki had told him, he called his good friend and the best family law lawyer in Tennessee. Lucky for Gabe, he also had an office in Dallas. Maybe Reese could help them get Jesse back.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, Gabe entered the office of his friend and shook the man’s hand. Reese Goodwin smiled and led Gabe to the tan suede couches facing each other next to a refreshment bar. Everything about Goodwin oozed success, from the large executive office to his charcoal Armani suit and red and gray silk power tie. Gabe sat on the couch facing the bright midday skyline of Nashville while Reese went to the bar.