A Wedding on Lilac Lane

by Hope Ramsay

  He let go of a sigh. He was like some character in a stupid country song, crying into his beer. He drained the last of it and was about to flag the waitress for his check when he noticed the scruffy band member setting up drums on the small stage at the corner of the deck.

  The guy was wearing a black shirt with neon writing across the front, like from a spray can. URBAN ARMADILLO, it said.

  Holy crap. Dad had told him a few weeks ago that Ella’s old band was going to be coming here. Was her ex trying to win Ella back? Or was it merely a coincidence?

  Dylan didn’t believe in coincidences.

  Worry and jealousy flowed through him like a toxic brew. He flagged the waitress and ordered a Maker’s Mark on the rocks in an attempt to numb himself.

  Which one of those long-haired, tattooed dudes was Cody? He wanted to go tap on the guy’s shoulder and tell him what an a-hole he was, after giving him grief for treating Ella so badly.

  The waitress delivered his bourbon, and he took a healthy gulp, just as the band started playing. As expected, they were loud, and the first twinges of a headache beat at his temples. It was debatable whether the pain came from the music or the beer or his long day at work. But he wasn’t going to leave. Not yet, anyway.

  He sipped his bourbon for the next five minutes and had decided to pack it in for the evening when Ella arrived on the scene, striding across the deck to a reserved table right in front of the band. As usual, she was wearing one of those floaty dresses and her army boots. She looked good enough to eat.

  He polished off the rest of his drink and ordered another one. He was going to need a lot more booze to anesthetize himself from the sudden agony of his shattered heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ella had waited until almost nine o’clock to head out to Rafferty’s because Urban Armadillo wouldn’t start their set until at least nine. She didn’t want to be there while Cody and the guys were setting up. She wanted to arrive once the music had started, so she could have time to settle on what she planned to do.

  Was she going to tell Cody to get the hell out of her life forever, or negotiate with him so she could join the band in May and finish out the tour with them? On a strictly platonic basis, of course.

  Because she wanted to arrive late, she’d had to pull a few strings. Ashley wasn’t wild about her coming down here tonight after Cody’s behavior at the tea this afternoon, but she accepted that Ella needed to confront the guy.

  So Ashley had called Rafferty’s owner, who she knew from the Chamber of Commerce, and ensured that Ella would have a reserved table when she arrived. So she could sit right in front of Cody and mess with his mind.

  While deciding whether she wanted to rejoin the band or walk away.

  She walked across the deck and slipped into one of the chairs at her table and looked up at Cody as he sang the old Charlie Daniels song “Long Haired Country Boy.”

  She remembered the first time she’d heard him sing this song. It had been at a dive bar in Muncie, and she’d been all of seventeen, sneaking in to catch the show with a fake ID. She’d fallen for Cody’s devil-may-care attitude back then. His laid-back philosophy of life had been so refreshing after Mom’s rules and plans for her. Cody offered freedom. From Mom. From responsibility. From the need to play music the way the composer wrote it without making any mistakes.

  Yeah, he’d looked like a long-haired country boy then, and he still did, even though thirteen years had passed and he’d put on a good thirty pounds. Someone might mistake him for a country boy, but Ella knew the truth now.

  Cody was a phony. He’d grown up in the suburbs of Dallas. He might be a Texan, but he wasn’t a country boy. He’d never gone hunting or fishing. He’d never chopped wood. He’d never ridden a horse. He might be a laid-back ne’er-do-well, but he wasn’t self-sufficient like the character in the song. No, Cody was needy as hell.

  The song was in the key of D, about as simple a chord progression as you could get. The band sounded a little thin tonight, but then she wasn’t filling in all the empty spaces with her fiddle. That’s what she’d always done. She’d stood up there onstage, always behind Cody, filling in the holes, adding a little musicianship to a band that was long on volume and short on finesse.

  Cody gave her a smirk and a smarmy, shopworn wink. She’d seen him wink at women all across the Southwest. He’d winked at her that night in Muncie when she’d first met him. He’d mistaken her for someone older, and he’d been a little shocked a few weeks later when he discovered she wasn’t yet eighteen.

  He’d almost made her go back home.

  But he’d needed a fiddler, and she had consigned all of “Bach’s Violin Concerto No. 1” to memory because that was going to be her audition piece for the music colleges Mom wanted her to attend.

  She hadn’t wanted to play that kind of music back then. Did she want to now?

  Staring up at Cody, she honestly didn’t know.

  And then the universe threw her a curveball because Dylan sat down at her table right next to her, facing Cody and the boys. He wasn’t wearing a bow tie today, probably because he’d taken it off. Otherwise he was dressed in his usual doctor uniform of khakis and oxford cloth button-down shirt. The top button was undone today though.

  He looked good enough to kiss, but that wasn’t what she needed, even if she wanted to kiss him like never before.

  * * *

  Dylan stared into her big blue eyes, kind of lost. How had he ended up here at her table? He wasn’t sure. Only that the urge to move had overwhelmed him, just about the time he’d polished off his second bourbon and paid his bill.

  He’d intended to walk away before she noticed him sitting in the corner. But his feet had carried him here. Maybe because he needed to tell her how he felt. Maybe because he needed to fight for her. Or something.

  But he didn’t exactly know how to fight for her. Besides, the guy up onstage didn’t seem too happy to see him take a seat at Ella’s table. Was that the famous Cody?

  The guy was a few pounds overweight and a little red in the face. Maybe he had high blood pressure and troublesome triglycerides. Maybe he’d have a heart attack at a young age from hard living. A longneck bottle sat beside him on the stage, as if to prove the point.

  Of course he was only wishing for the guy’s early demise because he was handsome from a certain angle. In a dissipated, biker-boy way.

  Damn. The jealousy flared a little hotter. What would happen if he got up and punched the dude in the mouth? What would happen if he leaned across the table and kissed Ella the way she’d kissed him that night she’d gotten toasted?

  Nothing good. There were three other dudes in the band, all of them equally large and thoroughly tattooed. Besides, Declan O’Toole, Rafferty’s owner, was a friend.

  Declan wouldn’t appreciate Dylan starting a brawl out here on the deck. And Dad would be furious too. Who wanted a family doctor who got drunk and took potshots at people?

  Clearly he’d lost his mind. He should never have come over to her table.

  “Why are you here?” she asked above the music. It was a simple question with no easy answer.

  He had no clue what to say in order to change the situation. He wondered if he should tell her that he was like a magnet and she was his true north.

  Nope. He wasn’t going to say something wimpy like that. That was the alcohol talking.

  “Why are you?” he asked instead. The answer was obvious, but he wanted to hear it from her own mouth. She was going back to that guy up onstage.

  Her shoulders tensed, confirming his worst fears. “I thought I’d come down and say hi, you know?” She looked up at the band and frowned at something, almost as if she didn’t like what they were playing. But maybe that was wishful thinking. Maybe she was frowning because her ex was looking down at her with a thunderous expression.

  “You know,” he said, leaning in, “I hate it when you lie.”

  Her gaze snapped back. “You’ve been drinking.”
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  He shrugged. “Yeah. Tough day at the clinic.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her eyes got that deep, concerned look in them that made everything feel better. He remembered the way she’d lifted his spirits the day Coreen Martel died. He could get used to that kind of care and attention, but he wasn’t about to admit that. To anyone. Least of all the woman he could never have.

  “I’m a big boy,” he said. It was a lie. He felt like a child who wanted to be loved but was afraid to ask for attention.

  “So, what? Are you planning to go back to Cody?” he asked, somewhat savagely.

  Her gaze narrowed, like a laser pointer, aimed at his heart. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” He knew a moment of hope.

  “Look. I need to get on with my career, you know? And it’s not happening here in Magnolia Harbor. So I’m thinking about rejoining the band, after the wedding.”

  He glanced up at the band, which was playing some god-awful tune that didn’t sound like country music to him. It was too loud, and he couldn’t understand the lyrics. But the kids on the deck were digging it, so who was he to judge.

  Maybe he was too conservative for her. Maybe this was never going to work out no matter what. But the idea of Ella going off with that red-faced guy with the skull tattoo on his biceps left him cold.

  “You could do so much better,” he said.

  She frowned at him, a parody of her mother’s favorite expression. “And now you sound just like my mother.”

  For once, Dylan could understand exactly how Brenda felt. If that was the guy Ella had run off with, he wouldn’t have approved either. He stood up and then leaned over the table, pressing his palms into the surface and getting right up into her face.

  “Yeah, I guess I do sound like her. And since she’s not here, let me remind you that Cody was never faithful to you. Maybe he fooled you when you were a little girl in Muncie, Indiana. But you’re a full-grown woman now. Don’t forget that, Ella. Ever.”

  * * *

  Ella’s heart pounded in syncopated rhythm to the band’s drums as Dylan strode across the patio and down the steps to the boardwalk. He could have passed as one of the many well-heeled boat owners who called Magnolia Harbor their summer home. But she would never belong here the way he did.

  Still, his parting words had warmed her heart in some wonderful, awful way. He thought she was a full-grown woman. The urge to follow him almost set her in motion, but she needed to stay, precisely because she was a full-grown woman.

  Old enough and strong enough to make her own decisions. And fix her life.

  When the set ended, Cody made a beeline to her table and took the chair Dylan had vacated. “Who’s the asshole?” he asked.

  She found his language offensive, and she didn’t like having that word applied to Dylan.

  “He’s my brother,” she said.

  “You have a brother? Since when?”

  “His father is marrying my mother. So he’s sort of my brother.”

  Cody laughed in obvious relief right before he leaned in. “Oh, that explains it. I honestly couldn’t understand what you saw in a straight arrow like that.”

  “Right,” she said, her mouth suddenly dry.

  “Well, I’m glad your standards haven’t slipped that low. Look, can’t we work this out? You and me, we’ve been together all this time. We’ve had a good thing going. And you know how I believe in destiny. I will never forget that night you walked into that bar in Illinois.”

  She stared at him. Was this the best he could do?

  She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “We met in Muncie, Indiana, Cody, not Illinois. And you talked about destiny then too. And you know what? I’ve seen you hand that line off to countless women over the last thirteen years. You’d think you’d switch it up now and then.”

  “Come on, babe, those groupies never did mean nothing. You know I love you.”

  “If you loved me, you wouldn’t cheat on me. If you loved me, you’d get your butt in gear and fix up the house in El Paso so I didn’t have to live in an RV all the time.”

  “Honey, come on, you know that house in El Paso is falling down.”

  “I know no such thing. I know you’re lazy. And I know that what you love most about me is my fiddle playing.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  “Is it? Look, I’ll cut to the chase. You guys suck without me, and the set list is exactly the same as last year. You haven’t written any new songs since I don’t know when. Years. But I’m willing to help you out. I’ll rejoin the band at the end of the month.”

  “You can’t join us before then?” He sounded desperate. Were they having trouble getting gigs? Probably. They clearly hadn’t been rehearsing much.

  “No, I can’t. My mother’s getting married in a few weeks, and I need to stay here until then. And when I rejoin you, it will be only until the end of your tour. I figure you’re touring until November?”

  He nodded.

  “And I sleep in my own room.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. I’m not coming back as your girlfriend. Not ever. When the tour is over, I’m going to Nashville.”

  “What you want to do something stupid like that for?”

  “It’s not stupid. I could get work in Nashville. You’re the one who’d struggle. So you can go find yourself another fiddler at the end of the tour.”

  He blinked a few times, and Ella waited for his arguments and his gaslighting and all the rest of the games he played. She was on the verge of turning blue waiting for him to say something when he finally said, “Okay.”

  Okay? That was all? His assent was anticlimactic. To say the least.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  On her wedding day Brenda wasn’t nearly as excited as she’d hoped to be. She started the morning doing yoga alone on the beach because Jim had spent the night at Dylan’s place. It seemed kind of stupid not to sleep together the night before their wedding, but Jim was a sweet traditionalist.

  Ella and Momma had picked her up precisely at nine, and they’d spent the morning at the beauty shop getting cut, curled, buffed, waxed, and painted. They all looked fabulous when they arrived back at Momma’s place to get dressed for the afternoon’s big event.

  It should have been the happiest day of her life, but she seemed to have collected her own personal rain cloud. Momma had found out at last Tuesday’s Piece Maker’s meeting that Ella had given her notice to Ashley. Ella hadn’t said one word about that. But Ashley seemed to think Ella was getting ready to leave Magnolia Harbor at the end of the month.

  Brenda was terrified that Ella had decided to go back to Cody. The whole world had evidently seen them together at Rafferty’s when Urban Armadillo had come through town a couple of weeks ago.

  Was Ella planning to sneak away while Brenda and Jim were on their honeymoon? Would her daughter break the news by sending one of those old-time postcards from someplace out in New Mexico? Ella used to do that all the time. For years and years, those postcards had been the extent of their connection.

  How could Brenda be on the verge of unhappy tears on this day? She had so much to be thankful for. After all, Momma and Ella were right beside her in the condo’s palatial bathroom, repairing the damage the heat and humidity had done to their hairdos on the short ride from the beauty shop back to Momma’s place.

  “We are a nice-looking family,” Momma said. Her words were so kind and reassuring, almost as if Momma knew Brenda needed to hear them. Her mother turned and took the wedding dress out of its garment bag. “And I think this dress is divine. It’s like something out of a fairy tale.” Momma’s eyes watered up as she turned in Brenda’s direction. “I’ve been looking forward to this day for so long.”

  “Don’t cry, Momma,” Brenda said, feeling her own tears close to the surface. “If you start, I’m going to bawl, and then all this beautiful makeup that Marian Blake slaved over will be ruined.”

  Momma nodded and patte
d her shoulder. “All right, let’s get you dressed up.” Momma grabbed a tissue from the box and dabbed her eyes, then turned toward Ella. “Come here, sugar. Give me a hug.” Momma wrapped her arms around Ella and gave her a hard squeeze that suggested Momma was just as unhappy about Ella’s looming departure as Brenda was. Ella hadn’t said a word to her grandmother either.

  Her silence had to be because she was hiding something unpleasant, like the fact that she was going back to that man.

  When Momma let Ella go, her daughter’s eyes were bright too. She was going away. Brenda could read the truth right there in her face. She had to stop this from happening. She didn’t want to lose her daughter again.

  “Honey,” Brenda said, turning toward her daughter, “I wasn’t going to mention this today. But…” She took a deep breath, willing her heart not to race. She wasn’t all that successful, but at least it seemed to be beating in a steady rhythm. “I know you’ve given your notice to Ashley Scott. But when were you going to tell me about it?”

  “Mom, please, let’s not—”

  “Look, I need to talk about this. I just hope you’re not going back to Cody Callaghan. I know you don’t need my opinion, but I don’t think he treated you well. But if you’re leaving for some other reason, well, I guess I’d like to know what I’ve done this time to make you want to leave.”

  Ella’s eyes glistened with tears. “Mom, you haven’t done anything.”

  “Then why are you leaving?”

  “I have to go. I need to get my life in order. I need a real job, you know?”

  “Oh. So where?”

  Ella sniffled, and Momma handed her a tissue. “I’m not going back to Cody, okay? I thought about it for a week or two, you know, when Urban Armadillo was in town for their gig at Rafferty’s. But I decided that I’m a full-grown, mature woman, and going back to him was wrong for me. So my plan right now is to see if I can find a gig as a studio musician in Nashville.”