by Codi Gary
“That’s not a good enough reason to kick him out of town.”
“I didn’t tell him to leave town. He did that all on his own,” Gemma said, stirring in half-and-half as she added, “I also might have told him I didn’t love him.”
“You did what?” Gracie shrieked, and a nurse down the way shushed her. Whirling around, Gracie snapped, “Oh, bite me. This isn’t a library.”
“Gracie!” Gemma grabbed her arm and sent the nurse an apologetic look.
“What? She needs to mind her own business. Damn it, Gemma, I was a superbitch to Travis, and now you’re telling me I had no reason to be?” Gracie hissed.
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Gemma said, stirring another sugar into her coffee.
“Yeah, but it’s the best-friend gig. Someone hurts you, they swim with the fishes,” Gracie said, not noticing that several people turned around to look at her funny.
Gemma shook her head. “God, I made a mess of things again.”
“Yeah, no argument from this corner, sweet cheeks. It wasn’t Travis’s fault that someone leaked the story, no matter that he didn’t tell you about the whole situation. He thought he’d handled it. He was trying to protect you. Those are good things,” Gracie said, grimacing as she took a sip of Gemma’s coffee. “Oh, that is vile. Seriously, it’s like they brewed it in a Porta-Potty.”
Gemma snorted. “It’s not that bad.”
“Says you. I happen to be a professional, and I will give you my expert opinion that this . . . is . . . shit.” She tossed the cup into the trash as they passed.
“What am I going to do, Gracie?” Gemma asked.
“Beg. Barter. Offer unlimited sexual favors?”
“Seriously, have you no sympathy?” Gemma said in frustration.
Gracie stopped her with a hand on her arm. “How’s this? You’re my best friend. I have watched you conquer single momhood and I have supported you all the way, even when I thought you were making a mistake by not telling Travis. I have watched you sit at home like a dateless wonder most weekends and shaken my head, but I have said nothing. Well, nothing much,” she amended when Gemma raised an eyebrow.
“I have seen you pass up and overlook one of the best guys in the world, even though I platonically love him as much as I do you and knew it was breaking his heart. Do you know why I’ve been the epitome of love and support, even when I thought you were batshit crazy?” Gracie asked, her green eyes serious.
“Why?” Gemma asked.
“Because any fool could see that you never stopped loving Travis. Honestly, if I were going to believe in that soul-mate, meant-to-be, there-will-never-be-another, perfect-someone kind of love, it would be with you guys. This is where I draw the line, though. So help me God, if you don’t figure out some way to grow up and work out your issues of inferiority I’m going to demote you to random chick I used to know.”
Despite the tears in her eyes, Gemma’s mouth twitched in amusement. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Hell yeah I would, ’cause I can only tolerate so much stupid,” Gracie said.
“And what makes you such an expert on relationships?”
Gracie tapped the side of her head. “Those that can’t do, teach, young grasshopper.”
“You are crazy.”
“Crazy brilliant.”
“Okay, relationship master, what should I do?” Gemma asked as they neared Charlie’s room.
Gracie stopped and put her hands on her narrow hips. “Seriously, how many eighties movies have we watched? Grand gesture, woman. No one can resist a gesture of grandness.”
Shaking her head, Gemma peeked in to see her mother sitting next to Charlie, snoring. Charlie’s eyes were still closed, and Gemma frowned. “I hope it’s normal for him to sleep this long. He’s been out for hours.”
“Are you kidding me? The kid broke his arm, not to mention the head bump and other bruises. I’d sleep for a week with the pain meds they gave him,” Gracie said, reaching out to hug her.
“What if he doesn’t forgive me?” Gemma whispered.
“Charlie or Travis?” Gracie asked.
“Both.”
Gracie squeezed her waist. “You’re a good mom and Charlie loves you. Believe me, he’ll forgive you.”
“And Travis?”
“If he doesn’t, then he’s a dunce-capped idiot who will find himself in a pair of cement shoes learning to speak trout,” Gracie said with a straight face.
“You are so dumb,” Gemma said, laughing softly.
“Yes, but I’m also hot, funny, and have excellent fashion sense. So I’m pretty sure whatever faults I may have, it’s an even trade. I mean, no one can be this awesome without a few issues,” Gracie said, patting Gemma’s cheek. “If you go to him and tell him you were wrong, that you’ve been a scared sissy la-la, and that you want to spend the rest of your life proving your love. He’d be crazy not to forgive you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
CHARLIE WAS DISCHARGED the next day but still hadn’t said a word to Gemma. After they had him settled at home, her mom had sent her to the store for some groceries while she tried to talk to him, and Gemma went without argument. She needed time to come up with a plan to earn his forgiveness.
And Travis’s.
Travis had called Charlie’s hospital room that morning and talked to him for a while, but whatever he’d said, Charlie hadn’t felt like sharing. She couldn’t blame him.
Pulling into Hall’s Market, she parked her car and grabbed her purse from the front seat. As she headed inside, she passed an employee pushing grocery carts and took one from him before entering the store.
It was like that dream she used to have, where she was walking down the halls of school in her underwear. People were staring at her, whispering behind their hands. She tried to ignore them, intently looking over her grocery list.
“Gemma, how’s Charlie? I heard he had a fall.”
Gemma looked up into Nancy’s concerned face. “He’s okay. Had to stay overnight at the hospital, but he’s home now. He broke his arm, so he’ll have a cast on for a while, but thank God it wasn’t worse.”
Nancy clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Well, be sure to go by the bakery and pick up a sack of snickerdoodles for him. They’re on us. And let him know we’re thinking of him.”
“Thanks, I will,” Gemma said, trying to politely disengage herself.
“Is Travis at home with him?” Nancy asked.
Gemma really didn’t want to get into her marital problems in the middle of Hall’s. “No, actually, he had to leave for his concert in California, but he called.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, I hope he hurries home. Those fool reporters have been writing some serious whoppers; they ought to be strung up. At least Miss Know It All left you alone; there was barely a blip about you in today’s edition.”
Sure, if you call a quarter of a page a blip. Miss Know It All’s report that there might be trouble between them when Travis left town four days before his concert date was mild in comparison to what was in the major gossip rags this week, so she should be grateful. The gossip columnist could have gone with any of the headlines decorating the magazine covers and blaring from the entertainment TV shows:
TRAVIS BOWER’S SECRET LOVE CHILD WITH HIGH-SCHOOL SWEETHEART!
COUNTRY MUSIC’S #1 BACHELOR GETS HITCHED IN VEGAS!
TRAVIS’S DOUBTS: IS HIS SON REALLY HIS?
On and on they went, each one more humiliating than the last. Some had been so accurate, she’d been ashamed to read them, and others had just made her want to punch someone. If she ever discovered who’d brought this shitstorm down on them, she would teach them a lesson about what happens when you make Mama Bear angry.
Half an hour later, she was struggling to find her car keys in her purse when she heard a definite southern drawl ask, “Excuse me, Mrs. Bowers?”
Gemma looked up from her futile search and glared at the tall, brassy blonde with hair so high and s
tiff it must have taken a whole can of hairspray to achieve. “Yes?”
“Well, hey there, can I help you? You look like me when I drop my lipstick in my purse. Don’t know why I carry so much stuff. I guess I always think I’m gonna need it someday.” The blonde took hold of the cart handle, and Gemma grabbed her purse quickly as the strange woman pushed it forward.
“Um, Ms . . . .” Gemma protested.
“Oh, my name is Mrs. Lisa Collier, originally from the great state of Mississippi. Tupelo, to be exact. You ever been to Tupelo? Birthplace of Elvis, and believe me, we don’t let anyone forget it. Even got his likeness frosted on a window at our McDonald’s. ’Course, I’ve been living in Nashville since I was eighteen, and it’s where I met my husband, Nelson. Wouldn’t have looked at him twice, but we were in the same dorm in college and lordy, if he didn’t stand outside my window one night singing Kenny Roger’s song ‘Lady’. Mind you, he couldn’t carry a tune, but . . .”
“Mrs. Collier!” Gemma almost yelled, but geez, the woman didn’t even breathe from one sentence to the next.
Gemma’s sharp tone didn’t faze her. “Am I talking too much? Nelson always says I talk too much. My brain just goes a mile a minute, and I can’t seem to get my mouth to stay shut.”
Gemma coughed to cover a laugh. “So I see. You mind telling me why you’re trying to steal my groceries?”
“Huh? Oh dear, it seems I forgot to ask where you were parked. I swear, I would lose my head if it wasn’t glued on, and wouldn’t that be a sight?”
Gemma was caught between exasperation and admiration. The woman sure could disarm her victims, like a spider disorienting a fly. Gemma had no doubt in her mind that the woman was a reporter, but the question was, why hadn’t Gemma sent her packing yet?
’Cause I can’t get a word in edgewise?
“Okay, Mrs. Collier, I think I know why you’re here, and I’m sorry, but I’m not giving any interviews,” Gemma said as nicely as she could.
“Believe me, honey, I understand. I just got to the party today. I was covering another scoop involving an up-and-coming country singer and her married manager, but I ended up not going through with it, because I actually know the cheating bastard’s wife. I ask you, why is it no one believes in the sanctity of marriage anymore?”
“I couldn’t tell you. My parents were fully committed and married for thirty years until my father’s death five years ago,” Gemma said, forgetting for a minute that Mrs. Collier was the enemy.
“Well, bless your poor mama’s heart, I wouldn’t know what to do without my Nelly. He hates when I call him that, but I love it. So, I find it surprising that your parents had such a long, happy marriage and you ran off to Vegas to get married . . .” Mrs. Collier said.
“On that note, it was nice talking to you and good luck with your story,” Gemma said, trying to take the cart from her.
“Please, Mrs. Bowers, you’ve seen the headlines. They’re saying whatever they want because you’re sitting back and not setting the record straight. Don’t you want people to know the whole story?” Mrs. Collier asked.
Gemma paused, considering what she was saying. Travis had said the only way to squash a story was to give a no-holds-barred exclusive. Was he right? If she told her side of everything, would the vultures find other bones to pick? “Okay, say I give you an exclusive. How do I know you won’t screw me over and twist my words?”
“I can give you my word, plus three references from past interviewees who will vouch for my integrity. You won’t regret sitting down with me, Mrs. Bowers,” Mrs. Collier said, handing her a business card. “I’m staying in town through tomorrow.”
Gemma took the card and blinked. “Music City News? The TV show?”
“Yes, sorry, did I forget to mention that? It’s a great program, and we’re all about the truth, unlike some ‘news’ shows,” Mrs. Collier said with a sniff of disdain.
If I tell them everything, maybe they’ll lose interest and leave Charlie alone.
And maybe it would give her just the opportunity she needed to make things up to Travis and Charlie.
Gemma put the card in her pocket. “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
* * *
“ARE YOU CRAZY, Travis? You’re at the top of your game! Why would you want to take a step back now?” Big George asked as he paced the room.
“Because I want to be there for my kid, George. What part of that don’t you understand?” Travis could understand George’s concern that if he slowed his momentum now, when he was barely past thirty, he might not have a large enough fanbase to start his own label later on, but he was determined. It was about time he got a life other than his career, and spending time with Charlie was suddenly his biggest priority.
“People don’t slow down until they’re getting ready to retire!” George argued, his voice rising with each word.
“I’m not ready to retire. I’m just going to take the next year off, buy myself a house in my hometown, and be with my family,” Travis said patiently.
“What family? I thought Gemma kicked you out,” George said, his face flushed. He lowered his voice slightly, “Are you sure the kid is even yours? It wouldn’t be the first time—”
“He’s mine, no doubt about it. And I never said Gemma kicked me out,” Travis said, not wanting to discuss his marriage with George. He liked the man, had been with him for ten years, but George was a money man, and anything else in life came second.
“All right, he’s yours, fine. But it doesn’t mean you have to go off the grid. We could hire a tutor and the kid could come on the road with you,” George said.
“No. I want my son to have stability and security. I want him to have a home, school, friends . . . not drifting around like a vagabond,” Travis said. He smiled as he added, “Besides, Gemma wouldn’t like it.”
“I don’t know why you care what that woman likes; she kept your son a secret for ten years and then married you without mentioning it. If I were you, I’d sue her ass for full custody and forget her,” George said.
Travis was starting to lose patience with George’s hostility. “Good thing you aren’t me, then. I’m not taking my son from his mother and I’m done with this discussion. You know what I want. Make it happen.”
“All right, and Chelsey Cooper? How do you want to handle her?”
When George had discovered the leak about Gemma’s name had come from his opener, Travis had been livid, wanting her head on a figurative plate.
“I’ll take care of her. You just handle the rest.”
GEMMA STOPPED OFF at the mailbox and found a small rectangular package mixed in with her bills. Looking at the return address, her hand shook. It was their wedding video.
I’m not going to watch it. What good would it do?
Gemma wasn’t sure, but as she walked through the door, she was reluctant to set the package down. Clutching it to her chest, she could hear her mother singing along to Alan Jackson, off-key and loud. Setting the groceries and the rest of the mail on the counter, she asked, “How is he?”
Her mother turned around, her light brown eyes amused. “Stubborn, like his mama.”
“So he still won’t talk to me?”
“The minute I started to give him my opinion, he shut down tighter than a clam and wouldn’t talk about it. Best thing I can tell you, sweetheart, is to go up there and try. He loves you; he just needs to realize that even you make mistakes,” her mother said, frowning. “Then I want you to call my son-in-law and tell him to get his ass back here pronto.”
“Mom, I don’t think—”
“That’s your problem, sweetheart, you don’t really think. You’re impulsive and you let your emotions run away with you until they’re so big you can’t see the truth. The truth is you should have told Travis about Charlie the minute you realized you were pregnant. I know you’ve convinced yourself that you were just protecting Charlie, but that’s not the real truth. There’s no shame in being afraid
to take a chance, honey. But it’s when you spend your life running away from the hard things that you miss out on the good stuff. Just like you panicked again when those reporters showed up. Instead of sticking with your husband and solving the problem together, you took the easy way out,” her mother said.
Gemma’s eyes filled with tears. “You think it was easy telling Travis I didn’t care? It wasn’t.”
“You used to do the same thing when your father got angry with you. This look used to come over your face, like you were in a daze and far, far away.”
“That’s because I was. After a while it was easier to tune him out,” Gemma said.
“I know your father was a stubborn, loudmouthed jackass, but he wasn’t all bad. You two had your good times, too. The problem was that when he wouldn’t bend, you broke instead,” she said, shaking her head. “You held onto all that anger and resentment, and it’s been eating at you. You gotta learn to pick your battles and decide when you should be bending instead.”
“You’re wrong, Mom. I forgave him. It was Dad who wouldn’t let go and admit he was wrong.”
“No, he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t the only thing in your life that made you distance yourself from love, Gemma. You forget, I was the one who held you after school when one person after another bullied you and took a little more of your strength. Until one day you stopped crying. That worried me more than anything. It was like you shut down your emotions, tuning out the hurt and pain until you were like a shell. I kept telling your father to go easy on you, but of all you kids, you were the one he couldn’t get a handle on. James, Dawn, and Drew; I love them to death, but they never tried to color outside the lines like you did. They were easy because they decided early on that it was better not to make waves. And then you came along, and you were vibrant, independent, and such a dreamer that it made your father crazy. He wasn’t much for things he couldn’t understand.”
Her mother reached out and brushed her hair back from her face as she continued. “But don’t ever think he didn’t love you, Gemma. He didn’t have the best role model of what a father should be, and that handicapped him from really getting close to you. I know we’ve been over it, and you don’t like me to make excuses, but you need to forgive him for everything, and not just the last few years. If you don’t let go of all that anger, you’ll never be able to let your guard down and be happy with anyone, let alone someone who pushes you like Travis. And you deserve to be happy, honey.”