Guarded Dreams

by L. J. Evans

Eli got out of the truck, came around, and opened my door. He reached in to help me out. I eased down beside him and looked up.

  “If they hate me, I’m blaming you.”

  His lips quirked again. He tucked my hand into his arm, and we made our way to the store. When he swung open the door, three people turned to greet us. There was a young girl with hair so fair it looked white, a gray-haired lady in jeggings and a flowy top, and a tiny, red-haired lady with Eli’s eyes that had the frailness of someone who was sick.

  His mom was in jeans and a sweater. The sweater was covered in cat faces, and her shoes, when I looked down, were chucks that were covered with cats. She was a cat lady. It made me smile, and when I looked up at her face again, she was smiling back.

  I’d barely taken two steps into the store when she was next to me, engulfing me in a hug that, even though she seemed skin and bone, was still tight and full of life—like her son’s. I fought my normal reflex to pull away from a hug. I tried, the best I knew how, to return it with warmth.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” she said and then stepped back, and I swear, there were tears in her eyes.

  I looked from her face to Eli’s. He was frowning at her. “Jesus, Mom, you’ll scare her away if you start crying.”

  She laughed, and it made her seem younger than she looked. She wiped at her eyes and then smiled at me again. “Don’t mind me. It’s the medicines they have me on. And don’t mind him.” She slapped Eli on the chest. “He’s just afraid of everything we’re going to tell you about him.”

  Eli groaned.

  It felt so…normal. A guy bringing a girl home, and his family filling her with stories. It felt like a country song. It felt like something I’d never had. Normal. My throat constricted, but I continued to smile through the feeling.

  The gray-haired lady reached out a hand. “I’m Leena. I’m glad to see you too, but I’ll reserve the hug for when Eli isn’t here to berate us for getting all emotional.”

  “He has no right to harass you. He was practically crying when he picked me up at the train station,” I teased.

  Both women laughed, and Eli shook his head, but he didn’t deny it. My nerves that had been fluttering about recklessly suddenly settled. This was going to be okay. These women loved Eli. I was pretty sure I loved Eli. We already had that much in common. What could be more important than that?

  “Eli, go pick up the food from Nate’s. Ava and I are going to go sit on the patio and talk books, or music, or you—whichever she prefers in whatever order she prefers,” his mom said.

  He huffed. “Nate’s delivers, Mom.”

  “But they charge four dollars.”

  “I’ll pay the fricking four dollars.”

  “Don’t cuss.”

  “Fricking isn’t a cuss word.”

  I chuckled. “Eli, it’s okay. Go get the food. I’ll be fine.”

  I’m sure he doubted it, when not even five minutes before I’d been a nervous wreck in his truck, but it was the truth. My nerves were gone. I was surrounded by people who loved him. That wasn’t intimidating anymore.

  “Listen to the girl, kiddo.” Leena grinned.

  He gave me a questioning stare, and I just inclined my head toward the door with a smile. It was all going to be okay.

  While Eli was gone, Eli’s mom and Leena peppered me with questions—about growing up in Texas, about my time at Juilliard. It felt like I was being interviewed. I loved how protective they were of him.

  They asked to hear some of my music, and I promised them that I’d share some with them later. Eli had my guitar in his truck, and, even without stage fright, I wasn’t really ready to bust out singing to his family.

  After Eli had come back and we’d had lunch on the patio just outside the bookstore, the three of them bickered back and forth about the leftovers and who was taking them and who was going to clean up. When I offered to clean up, all three of them turned to me with an emphatic, “No.”

  While they argued, I risked looking down at my phone that had been buzzing throughout the meal.

  BRADY: I sent Nick Jackson the first song.

  BRADY: I sent Nick Jackson the first song.

  BRADY: I sent Nick Jackson the first song!!!!

  BRADY: Are you ignoring me? Did you read any of my texts?! I SENT THE FUCKING FIRST SONG TO JACKSON!!!

  ME: WHAT?!

  BRADY: Finally. I was having a heart attack over here. And I’m full of good news.

  ME: Why did you send it to him now?! We don’t have the album ready. We told him we’d send it to him when we were done.

  BRADY: I didn’t want him to forget about us between now and graduation.

  ME: It’s only a couple weeks away.

  BRADY: You know that’s ages in show business. He could find someone else to fill the spot he’s eyeing us for on his platform.

  ME: You could have told me.

  BRADY: Babe, STOP! LISTEN! He fucking loved it!

  My heart flipped excitedly. I looked back up to the bookstore, and Eli and his mom were still fighting over the pizza boxes, but it was with a smile. Both the text conversation and the images in front of me felt dreamlike. Unreal. Not my life.

  ME: Really?

  BRADY: How can you doubt us so much?

  ME: I don’t doubt you.

  BRADY: He reiterated how much he loved your voice.

  ME: Liar.

  BRADY: I’m wounded beyond repair. You know I wouldn’t bust your balls over this.

  ME: I don’t have balls.

  BRADY: Stop changing the subject.

  ME: I didn’t realize there was a subject.

  BRADY: You. Considering our upcoming record deal.

  ME: Your ego really does have no limits.

  BRADY: Tell me you’re still considering it.

  Eli was coming back out on the patio. He had a stack of books in his hands. Really, they looked like comic books. I smiled at the thought of him loving something so contrary to the image he put out to the world. I felt that way too—contrary to the image people believed of me these days.

  BRADY: AVA!!!!

  I’d waited too long to respond. The truth was, I didn’t know how to answer him. If I told him I was considering it, I’d just keep his hopes up. If I told him no, he’d never stop harassing me about it.

  ME: I have to go. We’ll chat about it later. But I’m really happy he liked the song.

  Then, I put the phone away and turned to my boyfriend. The one I was pretty damn sure I was in love with. The only man I’d ever fallen in love with. For now, I just wanted to concentrate on him and how he said he needed me.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Eli

  WORDS ARE MEDICINE

  “When you’re black and blue, you’re broken and bruised,

  Just hear my voice again

  Words are medicine…

  I’m sorry. I love you.”

  —Performed by Tim McGraw

  —Written by Douglas / Hodges / Maloy

  We spent a few hours after lunch at the bookstore. Ava looked through the comics I’d brought out on the patio and then took off inside to examine the graphic novel section like she was trying to learn something about me from them. My mom joined her, telling her that she’d never stocked any of it until I’d shown an interest. I watched them, enthralled with the way they seemed comfortable with each other already.

  We left the store early again, leaving Jersey in charge. When we got home, Mom apologized to Ava for the mess. “Sorry. I’ve been sorting through all the stuff to give and keep with the move.”

  “You still haven’t even told me why you’re moving,” I told her with a growl.

  She gave me a look that said, Not with company here. I gave her a look that said, You will have to tell me eventually.

  After putting Ava’s stuff in my room, Ava and I headed out to the backyard while Mom rested on the couch with Snickers on her lap and a book in her h
and. It was something my mom had done her whole life. Another thing that felt normal and somehow grounded me even though everything was changing.

  Yesterday, I’d started to clean the weeds out of the garden while cutting back the overgrowth. It had wiped me out physically, but I was determined to push myself hard. I’d arranged to see a physical therapist in New London while I was there, but I wasn’t going to just wait around for her workouts. I also wasn’t going to be stupid and not listen to my body. The slim chance I had of keeping my commission was dependent on a recovery that was quick and successful. I wasn’t going to hurt that miniscule chance by doing damage cleaning out the yard.

  Today, I didn’t want to work in the garden, but I did want to lose myself in the quiet of it with Ava. She took it all in before sitting on a bench near the back fence. It had a view of almost the entire chaos of wildflowers, herbs, and plants that Mom had tucked into old wine drums and rusted out wheelbarrows. It was a beautiful yard.

  “It’s like a fairytale garden,” she said.

  I nodded in agreement.

  “You must have loved growing up here.”

  My throat constricted. I had. I pulled her up tight against me as I sat on the bench with her, not wanting to let go of her now that she was finally there.

  “I’m sorry that you’re losing it,” she told me. “Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life.”

  “Who said that one?” I asked into her hair with a smile.

  “Ann Roiphe.”

  “Don’t know her.”

  “I’ll have to make you watch The Sandbox then.”

  We sat there, quiet, satisfied to just be in each other’s arms. At least, I was. I was hoping she was, too.

  “You know that’s why she’s selling it, right?” Ava asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “So much loss in this house. I’m sure it’s full of love, too, and happy memories, but sometimes it’s hard to escape the loss. You have to move out of it to see what’s next.”

  We’d both had losses, Ava and I. Lives full of them. Mine were still lurking around the corner, waiting for me.

  “Brady sent the first song to Nick Jackson,” she told me. Her lost dream reappearing on her horizon once more.

  “And?”

  “He loved it. Brady says he wants the song. Wants us.”

  I squeezed her. “That’s wonderful.”

  And I meant it. I wanted her to have every dream she’d ever imagined come true. She didn’t seem thrilled about it. The Ava that I’d first met would have been jumping off the back of the fence in joy.

  “Why aren’t you more excited?”

  “I’d kind of reconciled myself to not having any of this. I was happy at the thought of writing songs and letting others take them out into the world.”

  The aurora borealis of songs, she’d said before. But I also knew, painfully, how hard it was to give up the things you’d wanted for a lifetime, so I pushed her.

  “What’s your biggest fear if you said yes? If you took the deal and became a country music legend?”

  “Legend?” She grinned.

  “Don’t get distracted.” I kissed her on the head. “Just tell me. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “The list is long.”

  She was stalling, like she always did when I was forcing her to tell me what was going on inside that beautiful head of hers. So, I started with the good things I could see. “You get to sing all the time. You make music with someone you trust. You make gobs of money and win a CMA. You have fans who adore you. Those don’t seem like negatives.”

  She laughed. “CMA?”

  I nodded, serious. “You know your songs are that good.”

  She nudged me with her elbow and then was quiet again before finally sharing the truth.

  “A part of me, the part that is that little girl who was denied love and acceptance from her father, wants all of that—the crowds cheering and the awards. It’s why I’ve never been afraid onstage. Because the worst that could happen was that they wouldn’t like me, and I already knew what that felt like.”

  “Ava.” I pulled her hand into mine, rubbing the palm. I hated the asshole who hadn’t loved her as a child when that was all she’d needed—the simple act of being loved by someone.

  “But that little girl only saw the good parts of it. The singing. The acceptance. She didn’t see all the things behind the shiny curtain.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “A professional singer’s life is set to this crazy schedule.”

  “You have a set schedule now with school, and studio time, and your open mic nights,” I told her.

  She nodded. “But I also get to say no and back out if I want to. You can’t do that with a tour schedule, with fans expecting you to show up. You can’t do that with a host of studio execs requiring you to go to every interview and recording session. You can’t tell them no when they want to change your cover or the songs on the album.”

  “Those are definitely some of the downsides. But are they enough to give up the dream?” I asked. I was still fighting hard for my dream even though I knew the downsides, too. The perfect example was sitting in the house—not being able to be there for the people you loved when they needed you most. And while I hated that, I couldn’t walk away yet. It made me a selfish bastard, because I wanted it all.

  “I’d be giving up so much of my freedom. The freedom I said I’d never give away again,” she said quietly. She’d been caught in a life with no freedom for nineteen years, and while I didn’t know what that felt like, I could understand not wanting to give it up once you’d finally gotten it.

  “You still have time. You don’t need to make the decision today.”

  She nodded, but I could tell that it was going to weigh on her until she made the choice. I was glad that she was there with me in New London. Glad that she wasn’t alone in her dorm room where the weight of it all would just cause her to sink. She was my light. I could be hers too. We’d find a way to guide each other home.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  I made cheesesteak sandwiches for dinner. It wasn’t anything special, but it was something I could cook. Mom didn’t eat much, and she still looked tired, but she joined us at the table when I took out our ancient Scrabble board.

  “I’m not sure you want to play. Ava cheats,” I said.

  “Not hardly. You just can’t stand that I kicked your butt when I was only nineteen.”

  “He should be used to it. I kick his butt all the time,” Mom said.

  “I bet he didn’t get all squinty-eyed and growly at you, though, Mrs. Wyatt.”

  “Enough with the Mrs. Wyatt. I’m Mandy. Mrs. Wyatt is some old lady I don’t know. And he always gets growly when he loses. That boy was all competition from the day he was born.”

  Ava smiled at her.

  “He had to beat every single average at every age. First tooth, early. First steps, early. First words, way early. But if he didn’t come in first, God help us all,” Mom teased as she put her word down on the board.

  Ava chuckled. “That explains it then.”

  “Explains what?” Mom asked.

  “Why he gets squinty at me. I never just let him get his way.”

  Mom’s laughter filled the room, and I took a moment to watch her smiling at Ava and Ava smiling back. The two women I loved most liked each other, and that filled me with pleasure.

  Regardless of their ribbing me about wanting to win, they both kicked my butt, and I didn’t give a damn. I loved seeing them duel it out. They each won a game. My mom, the book lady, losing to my girlfriend, the word lady.

  After the second game, Mom yawned.

  “I’m heading to bed. The meds make me sleepy.” She rose from the table where we’d been playing and started toward the hallway. “They seriously conk me out. Like dead-to-the-world type of sleep. Like it-would-take-a-train-crashing-throu
gh-the-room-to-wake-me kind of sleep.”

  I caught on to what she was trying to insinuate, and I probably turned the same shade of red as the kitchen chair. “Jesus, Mom.”

  She smirked then looked at Ava who looked as stunned as I felt. She smiled at Ava. “Goodnight, sweetie. I’m really glad you’re here with us.”

  She turned and walked away, calling back, “Have fun, you two.” Her bedroom door closed with a resounding slam.

  “This is why you don’t bring women home,” I said, running a hand over my face, through my too long hair, and then down the back of my head.

  “Women? As in plural? As in more than one?”

  I cut her words off with my finger to her lips. “Only one. And she was in high school.”

  “Was she really letting us know that it was okay…to um…you know…”Ava’s voice faltered and wafted away.

  “I guess the etiquette for having sex in your mom’s house is that it requires approval?” I grinned at her.

  “It’s going to be pretty much impossible now, because she’ll just know that’s what we did. How could I look at her in the morning?”

  I didn’t really care how my mom looked at me in the morning. After all, I didn’t think it could get much worse than it had after I’d come home from Becky at sixteen. However, I did know that it would be impossible for me to not touch Ava while she was there.

  So, I pulled her to me on the bench seat. Her legs flopped around me because I’d caught her by surprise. I started kissing her before she could protest. The kind of kiss that had both our hearts pounding out a melody that only we could hear. The kind of kiss that promised of things that I knew my body could do to her. A kiss that had me tugging her down the hall to my own room and the small, but functional, full-sized bed that resided there.

  Ava seemed to have forgotten her embarrassment as her hand wandered under my shirt, pulling at it so that she could caress the skin along my abs and my back with a gentle touch that had me groaning in her mouth. I covered her cheek and neck with kisses, and she pushed her body tighter into mine, desire coursing through both of us.

  When I went to pull Ava down on the bed, I saw what waited for us there and couldn’t help the laugh that erupted from my chest.