When Joe suggested dinner in the Short North at one of his favorite college haunts, Ryland’s spirit lifted a twinge at the thought of the macaroni made with five different kinds of cheese. But when they arrived, his beloved hangout had been replaced by a fusion restaurant. With utter disappointment filling his belly, they settled for high-end steaks out of everyone but Joe’s price range.
Ryland made a decent salary and had a healthy savings from his short stint in the NFL, but he tried to be frugal by shoving every extra dollar he earned into a college fund for Emma. His one luxury was a fulltime housekeeper-nanny. Mabel had been with them since Emma was a baby. He would be lost without her.
After the mess up over dinner, he tried to bail and head back to Gibson’s Run, hoping to catch a few hours of tape when the DVD player was his alone, but Joe was adamant about everyone hearing his soon to be sister-in-law sing.
The whole town witnessed the bickering turned to love story between Joe’s brother Sean and Maggie McKitrick. And the residents were universally shocked by the horrors Maggie had endured, including a showdown with the man who had tracked her all over country last fall.
Correction. Everyone was shocked except Sissy Jenkins, Gibson’s Run’s answer to the gossip columns, who suspected everyone of everything. He glanced over at Sean and Maggie, who were casually leaning into each other as they listened to the karaoke. They oozed love, happiness and contentment.
“Are you having fun?” Joe asked as he straddled the seat beside Ryland.
“A blast. Did you get her number?” He lifted his shoulder to the blonde in line for a refill.
Joe winked. “Does Joe Taylor ever fail?”
Twack! “Don’t be an idiot, Sprout.” The woman’s voice was friendly-scornful.
“Hey,” Joe yelped, but his mouth spread to a wide grin. “What are you guys doing here?”
Ryland followed Joe’s gaze and a soft grin touched his lips. He stood and reached to give his old babysitter, Jane Grey—now Jane Barrett, a hug. Her husband, Lindy, and her best friend Millie—the thwacker—were busy hugging Sean and Maggie.
Ryland stepped back with his hands still around Jane’s waist. “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Hands off, Weakside. That’s my wife.”
“Hey, Ice Monkey, I was always a Middle—never fast enough to be a Wilt.” He stretched his arm to shake the hand of Lindy Barrett, former NHL legend, and Jane’s husband.
“Ice Monkey?” Jane asked sliding into her husband’s side.
Ryland shrugged. “My comebacks are a little rusty.”
“They were never that crisp.” Millie said, rubbing her slightly rounded stomach. “You weren’t just slow on the field, Jessup.”
“Lovely to see pregnancy isn’t softening any of your edges, Millie.”
“Glad the presence of Sprout could bring you out of hiding.” She said pointing Joe. “Maybe we can find a clever retort stuck inside that behemoth of a body, yet.”
“Considering his greatest competition is a precocious four year-old, we should give him a pass,” Maggie offered as she slid in the circular booth the expanding party was occupying.
“How’s Emma doing?” Jane asked.
“Well. She turns five soon, and I’m a little shocked she’ll be starting kindergarten this fall, but she’s quite well.” He waited for the obligatory questions about Macy, and how they were coping as a family. He hated the routine questions. The sorrow-filled looks and shade of misery blotted out the delight of any situation.
He was trying to move on from his failed marriage and his wife’s death, but every time he was reunited with well-meaning friends and family the questions fell into a pattern. First asking about Emma. “How’s she doing?” Followed quickly by, “How are you? Really?” He knew his friends’ hearts were pure, but he wanted one night free of the guilt of not loving his wife.
He missed her and wished she’d survived the accident for Emma, but he’d never really loved Macy. She’d been a good mother—and a perfect PR wife, but the year before she’d died, when he’d proposed retiring from the NFL and returning to Gibson’s Run to coach, she’d gone ballistic.
The next day she served him with divorce papers. If he wanted to be married, to have Emma in his life, he would not bring retirement up again. She was an NFL wife—not some high school football widow. She didn’t want him. Probably never did. She wanted the influence of those three letters: N.F.L. And she used his daughter as a pawn to keep what she wanted.
Since Macy’s death, he’d been trying to forgive her—and himself—but he’d struggled to let go of the anger her felt toward the mother of his child. She’d been reckless the night of her accident—getting behind the wheel intoxicated after a night out with girlfriends. The only blessing was Macy’s only victim was Macy.
“Earth to Jessup.” Joe clamped his hand onto Ryland’s shoulder. “Everything OK? You seemed to go on a little trip there and rudely didn’t invite a single one of us.”
“I’m sorry. What did I miss?”
“Nothing yet, but my musically genius soon-to-be-sister-in-law and yours truly are about to take this coffee house down with some wicked tunes.”
“Brag much, Taylor?”
“Joe was born with confidence.”
“Smack your own head, Sprout.” Millie hollered from the booth. “You know it’s ridiculous to speak about yourself in the third person.”
“Millie, you are such a hypocrite.” Jane chuckled. “You talk about yourself in third person all of the time.”
“Yes, but that’s me.”
Ryland rubbed the bridge of his nose and suppressed a yawn. He sipped his coffee, and the now lukewarm liquid filled his belly, but the lack of caffeine did little to perk up his spirit. “I’m going to pick up an espresso. Would anyone like something?” He pushed away from the table.
“I’ll take an espresso.” Joe responded.
“No, you will not.” Sean intervened. “You’re so hyper tonight, you seem like you’ve had twenty cups of coffee. You don’t need any help.”
“Whatever.” A frown creased Joe’s brow as he slumped in his chair.
Ryland was annoyed by his friend’s upbeat attitude because he couldn’t seem to get his own feet firmly under him. Since Joe had returned home, Ryland had noticed a slight change in his friend, but he didn’t want to imagine the root cause of that change. For the night, he’d rather wallow in ignorance where JT’s life was concerned. Ryland placed his order, including a water for Joe, when the aroma of crisp linen and lilacs wafted through him. Tessa. He swiveled and caught sight of a mass of silky blonde hair. She was sitting with a woman Ryland didn’t recognize. Lifting the diminutive cup to his lips, he tossed the contents to the back of his mouth as though he were taking medicine. The espresso burned a path down his throat and landed in his belly, firing every sense he had into overdrive. He flipped the bottle of water to Joe and nodded in Tessa’s direction.
His best friend quickly picked up on the signal. Joe unfolded his six foot three inch frame to standing. In two strides, he was squatting beside Tessa and giving her friend a grin that sparkled with the brightness of every lake in the early morning sun.
Ryland pulled up the rear.
Joe slid onto a seat beside Tessa, but Ryland already lost the race. She was laughing at one of JT’s dumb jokes, and the sound both warmed his heart and twisted like a knife to his gut.
“Hi, Tessa.”
She raised her gaze to his, laughter spreading a genuine smile softly across her lips. “Hi, Ryland. Joey said you’re going to sing tonight?”
“Umm…uhhh…” Heat scorched Ryland’s neck. Sing? The last time he sang outside of church was during his freshman year in college when the upper classmen forced the rookies into a sing-off performing the fight song. After the first round, he was disqualified for being tone deaf.
“If you could see your face.” Joe laughed. “Priceless. Trust me. No one on the planet wants you to sing. I’m trying to convince
the lovely and talented Tessa to join Maggie and me up on stage.”
Tessa shook her head. “No. I don’t sing anymore. Besides, that wouldn’t be fair to Lily Mae.” She said, referencing the petite brunette sitting opposite her.
Ryland extended his hand. “I’m sorry to be rude. You must be a friend of Tessa’s. We teach together. My name is Ryland Jessup.”
“I know who you are.” Lily Mae said, leaving his extended hand hanging above the table as she stuffed her arms like a pretzel across her chest.
Sliding his hand in his pocket, Ryland nodded. “Tessa, I hope you change your mind and sing. I was always blessed when you shared your gift. Nice to meet you, Lily Mae. Tessa.” He padded back to his table.
Tessa’s head bent forward and her shoulders started shaking. Joe had made her laugh—not holler, or overreact. Laughter was good. Everyone needed laughter—especially the all too serious Tessa Tarrington.
With a sigh, his eyelids fluttered shut and he sagged into the chair feeling the weight of the last week in his very tendons. He rubbed circles over his eyes with the palms of his hands, simultaneously pressing out the last trickle of energy boast he’d received from the espresso. Coming tonight—being around Joe and his childhood friends—was a mistake. He should have stayed home, studied the tape, maybe visited with Pastor Tom. He should not be at some random coffee shop in Grandview vibrating from the last of his caffeine jolt and longing for the girl he’d been in full-on love with since he was six years old. Opening his eyes, he yanked his coat from the back of his chair and moved to stand.
“I wouldn’t.”
He stared at his surrogate big brother, Sean Taylor. “I need to get home. Macy’s parents are bringing Emma to church and they’ll take the opportunity to inspect the house. I need to be prepared.”
“Mabel has that house so clean you could eat pudding off the floor. You’re running away.”
“I don’t know what you mean. It’s been a long week and I’m tired.”
Sean slid onto the seat Joe had vacated. “I’ve known you since…well, since I can’t remember when. And there are four things that are as true today about you as they were when you were a dopey fifteen-year-old excited about setting off a bottle rocket in Sissy Jenkins’s backyard.”
“Really?” Ryland asked, lifting a single eyebrow.
“Really.” Sean stretched his hand and counted against his fingers. “First, you’re a wicked competitor always willing to go the extra to win. Second, you’re a family first guy—and that’s holding true with how your love for your daughter infiltrates every aspect of your life. Third, you’re a man of God. And fourth, you’ve been in love with Tessa Tarrington since you could first ride a two wheeler.”
The heat chasing up Ryland’s neck nearly burned his eyes with embarrassment. Was he that obvious?
“And with the exception of number two—which, by the way, I think you’re using to hide behind—you’re failing at living up to your truths. You need to fight for what you want. You get one life, Ryland. You need to try and live it with as few regrets as possible.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, Sean. When did you go all touchy-feely-T.V.-doctor? ‘Living up to your truths’. Seriously?”
“Jess, don’t try and play me. You are more than my little brother’s best friend. You’re like a brother to me, and I’m being blunt for your own good.” He stretched his long-limbed body and crossed his ankles. “And besides, I am a trained investigator. I read people for a living. You aren’t the toughest nut to crack.”
“Well, you must be going soft, Chief, because you’re way off base. I need to get home because of my desire to win at all costs. I have game tape to watch. I’m scouting for next fall’s team. Besides, we have early church tomorrow morning. Putting God first and all.” Shrugging on his coat Ryland stood.
Sean’s fiancé Maggie, Joe and Tessa were talking with the sound technician.
“Tell Maggie I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to hear her sing. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“Well, then it’s my mistake to make.”
10
Tessa’s heart beat with the steady weight of a bass drum. Sweat streamed down her back. Coughing against her narrowing throat, she settled onto the high stool beside Joe. What was she doing? One little wink from Joey Taylor and she was putty ready to be molded.
A sound tech raised the third microphone to the level of her mouth and Maggie adjusted her mic to a similar height as Joe tuned his guitar.
Lily settled into the wide booth beside Jane and Millie. Lily’s mouth was clearly not slowed by the introduction to strangers as her hands took on the dramatic gesturing of one who made friends easily.
And Ryland shuffled toward the front door.
Hopping off the stool, Tessa scooted through the crowded tables and caught him as he opened the door, allowing a gust of chilled January into the cozy warmth of the coffee shop. “Ugh! Why is it so cold?”
Ryland pivoted and smacked Tessa with his elbow.
“Umm, ouch?” She rubbed her forehead.
“I’m so sorry. Are you OK?” Half squatting to her eye level, he grabbed her shoulders in his hands, nearly engulfing her upper back with their size.
“I’m fine.” She dropped her hands, ignoring the gentle heat emanating from his touch. Those eyes. They seemed to shift color every time she looked into their depths. Tonight they were the color of the Smokey Mountains as evening sets.
“Are you sure? I hit you pretty hard. I’m really sorry.”
A mysterious butterfly that seemed to only react to Ryland’s voice, fluttered wings against Tessa’s heart. Shaking her head, she forced her nearly smiling lips to a tight line. “I’m fine, but where are you going?”
“It’s getting late. I need to go home.” He dropped his hands, stuffing them in the pockets of his barn jacket.
“Don’t you want to hear Joey and Maggie sing?”
“Maggie’s pretty amazing, but I hear her nearly every Sunday in church, and JT likes to break out in song on a fairly regular basis.”
“Oh, I just thought…” Why did she care if Ryland Jessup—her mortal enemy—stayed to hear his friends? She slid a step back towards the main room.
“Hey, Tessa, we need you.” Joey hollered without the aid of a microphone.
“You thought, what?” Ryland asked, reclaiming the space she vacated.
“Nothing.” She stretched her Delta Alpha Psi smile across her lips. “Have a good evening. Be careful driving home.” She skipped back to the stage, shoving her disconcerting disappointment over Ryland’s early exit to the back of her mind. “Sorry,” she said to Maggie and Joey as she returned to her stool.
Joey counted down and strummed the opening chords to the well-known rock ballad.
The music began at her toes and travelled through her legs until it settled in her belly and began to grow. Maggie’s rich tone wafted through Tessa’s spirit, taking the melody. When her lips opened to join Joey on the chorus she countered with the harmony. The blend of their three voices propelled round after round of shivering needles over her body. The purr of the trio was glorious, and as the final strands of the song waned, Tessa’s eyes slid open and she caught sight of the collective expression of awe in the audience a moment before they burst into riotous applause. Floating on nothing but raw emotion, her gaze shot over the jubilant crowd and caught the front door settling to close. The aura of the artistic beauty dissipated and she was once again falling into the pit of sadness she’d been residing in for months.
Joey tugged her off her stool, smacking a rough kiss on the top of her head. “We were awesome, T.T.! You’re awesome.” He released her along with a strangled battle cry.
She stumbled off the stage.
Maggie tugged Joey behind her.
Tessa wiped her forehead and locked gazes with Lily, then glanced toward the door.
“Cho! Co!” Lily exclaimed. “Well, wasn’t t
hat better than sweet tea on an August afternoon? Y’all sound like you’ve been plucked from the angels to sing together.”
“Joe Taylor always knew he was meant to make beautiful music with angels.” Joey dragged an empty chair to the table.
“Sprout, do you even know how to spell humble?” Sean said as he enveloped his fianceé in a body length hug.
Tessa narrowed her gaze to Lily, who nodded.
Lily offered an exaggerated yawn complete with a wide stretch of her short arms. “Mais, I’m spent like last month’s allowance. I think I need to take a lie down. Tessa, I hate to rain on the party like midnight on Mardi Gras, but this little boo needs eyes shut for eight straight if I want to make it through anyone’s sermon tomorrow.”
Glancing at the dropped mouths and furrowed brows of the group, Tessa stifled her giggle as Lily pushed to scoot from the booth.
The Creole-Cajun Princess Lily Mae often shocked poor, unsuspecting Yankees into stunned silence. The CCP had aided the sisters in the escape of more than one uncomfortable situation. And like a comfy sweatshirt, CCP Lily Mae once again wrapped herself around the suddenly frigid Tessa. “It’s just been a ball meeting every last one of you.” Lily offered as she shoved her arms in her sleek leather jacket. “Miss Millie, biggest of congrats on the bebe. What a blessing. Hope if y’all ever make it to God’s country you’ll swing by for a little fais do do.”
Winding her scarf around her neck, Tessa was startled when Joey lifted her coat to her.
“You don’t have to go, Tessa. I can give you a ride home, if you want to stay,” he offered.
Her heart twisted against her inner sixteen-year-old who screamed, “YES!” But she suppressed the teenage yearnings and gave a soft shake of her head. “Thank you, but I drove Lily Mae. She wouldn’t know the way home.”
“OK.” He held open her coat and she allowed him to drape the puffy bear around her shoulders. “How long is Lily in town?”
“She leaves Monday.” Tessa’s inner sixteen-year-old drooped her shoulders. He wanted to spend time with Lily. Of course, he did. She was beautiful, charming, and a former cheerleader. She was the picture of every girl Joe Taylor had dated throughout high school and beyond.
Life on the Porcelain Edge Page 6