by LuAnn McLane
Belinda lifted one shoulder but couldn’t allow even a sliver of hope to creep into her heart.
“I would tell you that if you’re meant to be together, it will happen. But I don’t believe that. Sometimes, if you want something, you have to make it happen.”
Belinda nodded her agreement, but she didn’t see any way possible for her and Oliver to have a future together.
“But for now, I’m going to make your supper happen,” Betty said, and went back to the cubed steaks.
“I can’t wait.” Belinda watched her mother move with practiced efficiency, talking up a storm while cooking. By the time everything was bubbling on the stove, along with cornbread in the oven, Belinda was brought up to speed about everything and everyone who lived in Brookside Bend.
But while Belinda listened with one ear, her thoughts drifted to Oliver, what he was doing and thinking. It might be a long while before he was out of her head. Or maybe, never.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HOW CAN YOU MEND A BROKEN HEART?
Oliver avoided the guest house, refusing to even look in that general direction. For the past two weeks, he hadn’t taken a swim in the pool, gone for a run on the beach, or ventured outside the house. A blue funk followed him everywhere, hovering like a storm cloud ready to burst at any given moment.
And he was getting so low on groceries that he might have to dig into his hurricane stash at the back of the pantry.
He’d avoided calls from his brothers except to let them know he needed some space and to respect his privacy. Dev had been blowing up his phone but Oliver refused to even think about his career right now.
Or maybe ever.
He was simply lost without Belinda. There was no other way to put it. God, he longed to hear her laughter. See her smile. And he craved having her body wrapped around him. Just last night he’d had an intense erotic dream about her that felt so real . . . and then he woke up to find her side of the bed empty.
“Dammit!” Oliver had to clench his fist in an effort not to reach for his phone and call her. Or better yet, hop into his car and head for Tennessee. Why couldn’t he be a spur-of-the-moment kinda guy? Maybe it was time to make a life-altering decision without hesitation. He sure as hell couldn’t go on feeling like this too much longer. He’d lost weight. Not one damned thing interested him on television. He tried to read and stared at the pages. Music helped some, but not much.
This was just bullshit. And the thought that Belinda might be suffering even a small amount of what he was feeling twisted his stomach in knots.
Oliver was in the middle of an angry string of foul language for no real reason when the doorbell rang. He ignored it. Then came banging on the door. “Go away!” he shouted. His phone vibrated. Oliver looked down and shook his head. Apparently his brothers were on the back deck ready for an intervention. Oliver closed his eyes and blew out a sigh, determined to wait them out. He should have seen this coming.
The banging persisted. They weren’t going anywhere.
“Fuck!” he shouted to the ceiling, and took long strides from the living room toward the back door. He swung it open and stood there, oozing anger.
Unfazed, they brushed by him. Oliver would have let out a long string of curses, but they had Arabella with them. Dammit. Well played.
“You look like shit,” Jesse said. “Like Tom Hanks when he was alone on that island. Dude, when was the last time you showered?”
Oliver reached up and tugged on his beard. “Today. Or was it yesterday? Who cares?”
“My guess is a week ago,” Grady said. Oliver shot him a glare.
Arabella started cleaning up the kitchen, picking up this and that. Putting plates into the dishwasher. Wrinkling her nose, she turned on the garbage disposal. The neat freak in Oliver felt acute shame.
Oliver stood in stony silence, arms crossed, scowling.
“Wanna talk about it . . . her?” Jimmy asked quietly.
“No,” Oliver barked. “I asked for privacy. What don’t you get about that?”
“Yeah, a couple of days,” Grady said. “But not two damned weeks, Oliver.”
Oliver shrugged, not caring that that much time had passed. One day bled into another, bleak and devoid of joy. He scratched at his beard.
“You can’t go on like this,” Arabella said, and he softened his expression.
Closing his eyes, Oliver blew out a harsh breath. “I’m open to suggestions,” he finally said gruffly.
“Arabella’s come up with a brilliant idea,” Grady announced.
Oliver looked at her with hope and felt his first stir of interest. “What?”
“Well . . .” Arabella dried her hands on a dish towel and started to tear up a little bit. “I’ve been thinking about you and Belinda. I mean, there’s got to be a solution.”
“Hormones,” Grady said with a wince. “She cries at dog food commercials,” he said, and pulled out a chair for her.
“Oh, Grady.” Arabella sat down. “I’m getting a play-by-play of my own pregnancy,” she said, but reached up and patted Grady’s hands, which were resting on her shoulders. “So I was thinking that maybe you should consider auditioning for the Belinda Beal Theater.”
Oliver frowned and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Okay, I didn’t see that coming.”
“Oliver,” Arabella said, and tilted her head, “have you looked at the website?”
“I wasn’t aware there was one,” Oliver admitted. “Then again, I haven’t really been aware of anything.”
“There is, and they’ve started a countdown to opening night.” She smiled, raising her index finger. “And . . . there’s a call for entertainers to audition.”
“I don’t think that’s the venue for my kind of music,” Oliver said slowly, but his heart picked up speed.
“I know.” Arabella nodded. “Sure, they’re going to cater to a country, bluegrass-music-loving audience, but not entirely. According to the website, on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, they want to create a variety show concept, like the classic show called Hee Haw.”
“Hee Haw?” Oliver scratched his head.
“It was kinda the country version of Laugh-In. Music, sketches, slapstick comedy. I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Arabella said. “And, what if you edged your voice in the direction of country music? You can sing anything. You’ve got that kind of talent.”
“Country music?” Oliver frowned.
“Crossover? And do you know what I honestly think?” Arabella asked.
Oliver grinned, feeling like he needed to oil the edges of his mouth to pull it off. “Hit me with it.”
“I could see you and Belinda as emcees of a variety show. You have that kind of chemistry. You would play off each other, with you being the straight man and her being the funny one.”
Oliver felt a surge of excitement. “But I don’t want to move from Sea Breeze.”
“What?” Jesse sputtered. “You were talking about a solo career. Dude, that means you’d be gone most of the time.”
Grady nodded. “Jesse’s right. And if this would work out, you wouldn’t need to sell your house or anything. You’d travel back and forth.”
“I’m not even remotely prepared to do this.”
“Are you kidding me?” Arabella tossed her dish towel at him. “We put together an entire reunion show in just a few months. We can whip you into shape in a few weeks. I’ve already found some songs you could do.”
“And I’ve been doing some songwriting with you in mind,” Jimmy said.
“Wow, so you guys have been putting your heads together this whole time?”
“Yep,” Arabella said. “Thoughts?”
Oliver almost said he needed to think it over. But then—“I’m in.”
They all looked at him with wide eyes and he laughed.
“You could knock
me over with a fucking feather,” Jesse said.
“So when do we begin?” Oliver asked.
“Right after you take a shower,” Grady told him. “Come on over to the rehearsal room.”
“And I’m going to make you a giant pasta dinner,” said Arabella. “Put some meat back on those bones.” She started to tear up again.
“We’ll do the group hug after you shower,” Jimmy said, pinching his nose with his fingers.
“I’m not that bad,” Oliver protested, but he laughed. “I’ll be over later.”
“Good,” Arabella said, and stood up. “This is going to be fun!”
“This will be fun, she said.” Oliver shot a pained look at Arabella. After a week of rehearsals, Oliver had yet to have an ounce of fun.
“Hey.” Arabella sat down next to him on the hardwood floor of the rehearsal room and gestured for Grady, Jesse, and Jimmy to do the same thing. “You’re trying too hard to sound like a country singer.”
“I thought that’s what I’m supposed to be.” Oliver took a swig from his water bottle and looked at her in question. “A country singer.”
“It sounds like you’re singing karaoke,” Jesse said, drawing a frown from Oliver.
“Are you serious?” Oliver asked, frustrated to the max.
“Jesse’s right,” Grady agreed. “And so is Arabella. You’re not George Strait or Toby Keith. Put your own stamp on whatever song you sing.”
“And move around more. Show us some of that Oliver Heart swagger,” Arabella said.
“I thought country artists mostly stand still,” Oliver said. “At least the videos I watched indicated so.”
“Garth Brooks broke that mold,” Arabella explained. “I think you should try something in the middle.”
“Okay, I guess.” Oliver nodded, trying to feel more confidence.
“You’re like a coach on The Voice,” Grady said, and then looked at Oliver.
“Maybe I shouldn’t cover any songs,” Oliver said, glancing over at Jimmy. “When are you going to have something original for me?”
Jimmy sighed and shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, Oliver. I’ve been trying to write, but the chick next door and her yappy dog are messing with my muse. I like to write at night, and she also comes out on her balcony, talks on her phone, listens to music, and her dog . . . damn. That dog! She barks at me through the metal slats like I’m her personal enemy. And dogs usually like me,” he said defensively.
“Have you spoken to her about it?” Arabella asked.
“Yeah, while we were getting our mail and her dog was actually nipping at my ankle. I love dogs too! I just don’t get it.”
When Jesse laughed, Oliver shot a glare at him. “Sorry, Oliver, but that’s pretty damned funny. What’s her name, by the way?”
“Trixie.”
“Wow, sounds like a hooker,” Jesse said. “You said she was hot.”
“Trixie is the dog,” Jimmy said with an eye roll. “The neighbor’s name is Maggie Murphy. Red-haired, Irish chick with an attitude to match.”
“I’ll take her off your hands,” Jesse offered. “I happen to like sassy.”
“Uh, stay away,” Jimmy said, and gave him a pointed look.
“Whoa.” Jesse raised his palms in surrender. “Wait a minute, do you have a thing for her?”
“No!” Jimmy replied quickly, making Oliver look at him closely. “Definitely not my type.”
“Methinks he doth protest just a little bit too much?” Arabella asked.
“Look, I asked her nicely to get Trixie under control and she said she couldn’t help it if Trixie didn’t like me strumming my guitar and singing every night.”
“For real?” Arabella asked.
“Uh, yeah, she howls when I sing,” Jimmy said.
“Trixie or Maggie?” Grady asked.
Jesse tossed his head back and laughed until he had to swipe at tears.
“What part of that is funny?” Jimmy asked Jesse. “Seriously, Grady? I expect this from Jesse, but you too?”
“All of it,” Jesse replied, and Oliver had to laugh too. At least the attention wasn’t on him for a blessed second.
“Maybe you should ask to get to know the dog,” Arabella suggested. “Or buy her a treat or something?”
“No way.” Jimmy shook his head. “The little shit might bite me if I try to pet her. Anyway, this is messing with my creativity. Sorry, Oliver. It’s been a nightmare.”
“Why don’t you try more songwriting during the day?” Arabella asked. “When your neighbor is at work.”
“I wish I could, but it wouldn’t matter. She’s a writer, something to do with empowering teenage girls.” He shrugged, but Oliver sensed that Jimmy might know more about his new neighbor than he was letting on.
“Wow, interesting,” Arabella said. “So she’s home a lot.”
“Yeah.” Jimmy nodded. “But I’ll double down on my efforts, Oliver. I promise. As a matter of fact, I’ll get started early tonight.”
“Thanks, Jimbo.” Oliver leaned his head against the cool wall. “What if I audition and they don’t choose me?”
“Are you serious?” Arabella gave Oliver’s knee a hard shove. “Of course Belinda would choose you! Not only are you amazing, but she would have to be thrilled to have you in Tennessee so you can be together. Have you thought about simply calling her? Running this by her?”
“Uh, just about every other minute of the day.” He rested his forearms on his knees and looked at Arabella. “But I really want to get chosen on my merit.”
“I get that, sort of,” Grady said. “But according to the website, you have to submit a video of you singing a song. Belinda is going to recognize you.”
“I want to avoid that,” Oliver told them.
“Yeah, but what about your name?” Jesse asked.
Holding up his index finger, Oliver polished off his cold water. “They’ve had such a big response that I can choose to send the video to Belinda, her mom, or her dad. I’m choosing Betty Beal.”
“I think it would be more fun to send it to Belinda. I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that,” Arabella said. “And while I’m certain Betty will still choose you, why take the chance?”
“Because I want them to want me for my ability, not my name.”
“Uh, about the name,” Jesse brought up again.
“Country Heart,” Oliver said, and then immediately felt his face flame.
“What?” Grady asked.
“My made-up stage name. And I’m going to wear a cowboy hat that comes down over my eyes,” he explained, and gave Jesse a look of warning. “If you laugh I’ll kick your ass.”
Of course, Jesse laughed. “Give me a break, Oliver. You’re gonna look like Woody from Toy Story.”
“I’m warning you!” Oliver scooted closer to Jesse, who scooted farther away.
“Guys!” Arabella shouted in her choreographer boss voice, stopping them. “We don’t have time for this nonsense.” She reached forward and tugged on Oliver’s shirt. “Get back here.”
“I don’t know if you can pull this secret thing off, but I’d do it the same way,” Jimmy said.
“Uh, thank you,” Oliver said, and gave Jesse a smug look.
“Honestly, I agree,” Jesse admitted. “So, this is gonna be a surprise for Belinda?”
Oliver inhaled a deep breath. “Yeah, the website said that the finalists will be chosen for live auditions starting in September.”
“The deadline for online videos ends in a week,” Arabella said in a grave tone. “So we are seriously under the gun.”
“And making zero progress,” Oliver said with a groan. “Maybe I’m trying to be something I’m not cut out for. Maybe this is a horrible idea.”
“Really?” Arabella asked, pulling up something on her ph
one. “This was you last week.”
Oliver stared at the photo of him looking like shit.
“Deserted island picture?” Jesse asked.
“Wow, I do look like Tom Hanks,” Oliver said.
“Uh, yeah.” Arabella nodded. “You’re not that guy, and I don’t ever want to see you look that unhappy or unhealthy ever again!” Her voice cracked and she leaned forward. “You hear me?”
“Ah, babe,” Grady said, pulling Arabella close to him.
“And Belinda is probably feeling much of what you’re feeling.” Arabella leaned back onto Grady’s chest, making Oliver long to have Belinda in his arms. “I can see in your eyes you don’t want that for her.”
“No.” Oliver felt an ache in his throat at the thought and pushed up to his feet. “Okay, coaches. Let’s get this show on the road!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LONELY DAYS
Belinda carried a glass of chardonnay out to the large back deck of the A-frame cabin she’d recently rented and sat down in one of the roomy rocking chairs. Later she’d toss a steak onto the grill, hoping to arouse her lost appetite. Not even her mother’s home cooking could entice her into finishing a complete meal.
Instead of missing Oliver less, with each passing day, she longed for him more, a constant ache for which there was no cure . . . well, except for him. She’d nearly called Oliver on several occasions, and she couldn’t even count how many times she’d visited his Facebook page, Twitter, and Instagram accounts. While Belinda knew that she should cut herself off from stalking him on social media, she couldn’t help herself.
She rocked slowly in the chair, sipping her wine. Would this sadness ever recede, or would it keep coming at her like waves crashing to the shore? She feared she walked around with resting bitch face! But smiling was damned difficult when she felt so crappy. And after being so blissfully happy with Oliver, she felt as if she was suffering from emotional whiplash, and her brain couldn’t handle it.
Belinda tried to hide her pain from her parents, but the only way she managed to pull it off was to stay incredibly busy, thankfully not too difficult since they had a billion things to get done before the opening of the theater. Belinda had argued that her salary was too much, but her father insisted she’d earn every penny. And it did feel good to have money in a checking account that had been gasping for air.