Pretend Mom

by Hestand, Rita

  Dixie smiled warmly at Ed. "I'm sorry, Ed—really," she said softly.

  "I'm crazy about you, Dixie. I'd make you happy. We'd work and play together. It would be sensational, and together who knows? We'd get a sensational write up in the paper."

  Dixie chuckled. "Poor, Ed. Always so concerned with what the papers will say. They had a field day with me at that last concert teaming me up with that other joker, remember?"

  Ed laughed and shrugged. "Okay, so sue me. I'm not exactly a romantic."

  "Besides, I don't love you that way, Ed. It would be terribly unfair. I don't want to cheat you, Ed—or myself. And I've got to admit, I want a little romance."

  "You wouldn't be cheating me," he promised.

  "But I don't—"

  "I know, I know." He drew her into his arms, hushing her from repeating the inevitable. "But I do, Dixie."

  "That's not enough." She pushed him away, the frustration of the situation beginning to take its toll.

  "Then maybe it's time you found a new studio to work for." Ed's comment caught Dixie by surprise. "I just don't think there's room here anymore." Obviously he was feeling the strain, too.

  "Ed, you don't mean that," Dixie said.

  "Yes, I do. It's too hard working with you day to day and feeling the way I do, love. We're through, as of now, Dixie. I release you from your contract."

  "But I thought we had a good working relationship, Ed. You can't let personal feelings stand in the way. I'm good at my job."

  "No, you were good at your job until you decided to take that vacation. Maybe you're right. You are getting too old for this." He pulled Dixie into a hug and then held her at arm's length, saying, "You're pretty good at tearing a man's guts out, you know?" He gave a slight chuckle. "If you decide to stay, I won't be working with you any longer. Good bye, love." With that, he gave her a final kiss and quickly left the conference room.

  ***

  Two weeks later Dixie found herself alone in New York, finding it impossible to get an agent. No work. It was scary. Scary enough to shake her up and make her realize if she was going to make it, she had to do it herself, and quit relying on others. For the first time in her life, Dixie was truly on her own.

  "Go home", a voice kept whispering in her ear, but she refused to pay heed. Stubborn pride kept her here, alone. Besides, she felt certain that Mike wouldn't believe her if she told him how she felt about him. He didn't trust her and, without trust, how long could their relationship possibly work?

  Dixie sank herself into her work, writing songs. She pounded the sidewalks of New York trying to interest different agencies in representing her. She offered beautiful love ballads. Beautiful bittersweet songs that would sell like hot cakes as soon as she found a promoter. She didn't lack for drive. She gave up relaxation—and sometimes, eating—for work.

  Each day she would hurry home to her apartment, and make herself write what she was feeling. She put down on paper the pain and agony of having loved and lost. As painful as it was, she poured her heart and soul into her writing, and felt as if she were coming alive again.

  Maybe she really could become a successful songwriter, and fulfill her dream. Everything she wrote evoked heartfelt emotion. Now, she had to wait. Finally, establishing a promoter, she poured out the music. The man came highly recommended an agency had said, but he worked mostly out of Nashville, and it might mean another move.

  Two weeks before Christmas, New York was hit by a heavy snowstorm. As she watched the snow fall, Dixie had the sinking feeling that she'd be alone from now on. To realize one's dream was one thing, to realize them alone, was quite another.

  Then one evening, tired and cold, she trudged home in knee high boots and heavy woolen coat, kicking at the snow like a child, juggling her two sacks of groceries. Reaching her apartment, she realized the phone was ringing. "Dixie," came the drawl that she remembered so well.

  "Mike! How are you, is everything okay?" she asked in an almost frantic voice.

  "Everything is fine, sweetheart. Listen, I called to tell you I'm flying up there tomorrow. Will you meet me at the airport?"

  "Flying up?" Panic constricted her throat. "B…but you can't. I…I mean, the weather here is terrible. It's not a good time to fly to New York, Mike. Is it important? Is there something I can take care of for you instead?"

  "'Fraid not, sweetheart. This is something I need to do in person. Flying's the fastest way to get there. Now don't be late. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm coming in on Flight 207, should get there around noon."

  "Mike…wait!" she cried but it was too late, he'd hung up.

  What was so important it couldn't wait? Didn't he realize the danger he was putting himself in? Memories of Audrey flying into New York that summer flooded Dixie. She'd been on her way to see her, too. Dixie had been waiting at the airport for her, when they announced the flight would be late. She waited—then in a matter of minutes, Dixie's world came crashing down around her. Flight 119 had crashed shortly after takeoff at DFW airport. A thunderstorm had nearly canceled the flight. There were no survivors.

  "No, this can't happen again!" Dixie screamed. "I won't let it happen again."

  She picked up the phone and dialed Mike's number. There was no answer. She called her mother—she had to reach him.

  "M…mom, this is Dixie."

  "Hello, dear, so nice to hear from you. How are things in New York?"

  "Fine. Look, mom, Mike just called and said he was flying up here tomorrow. You've got to stop him. Please, it's important."

  Dixie couldn't keep the panic from her voice. Her hands shook as she held the phone close.

  "Stop him?" Emily chuckled. "I'm the one who talked him into going. Don't you want to see him?"

  "Yes, I do. But he can't fly, Mom. He just can't," Dixie cried into the phone.

  "Why, dear, what's wrong?"

  "When Audrey flew here to see me that summer she never made it. I can't risk the same happening to Mike, Mom. Please, you've got to stop him," Dixie pleaded. "I just can't go through this again."

  Emily's voice calmed. "Dixie, dear, please stop worrying so much. That was an accident. The chances of it happening again are one in a million. Oh, I wish I could be there to hold your hand and assure you it would be all right. But it looks as though you're going to have to face this alone. Mike's already left for Dallas. He's so anxious to see you. He wanted to talk to you about the house, dear. Said it couldn't wait. Now, please don't worry. He'll be fine. And Dixie … it wasn't your fault about Audrey."

  No, he wouldn't be fine! He'd crash just like Audrey, and she'd lose him forever. Losing him to another woman was one thing, losing him to death was another. Dixie couldn't stand the thought of losing another loved one in her life.

  Tears ran down her cheeks, and she didn't know what else Emily said. She finally hung up the phone, unable to talk any longer. Emily was such a dear to try to reassure her, but Dixie was terrified that Mike wouldn't make it. She couldn't sleep. She called the airport to check his flight and see if there was any way to stop him from coming. Of course, there wasn't. What did she think she was going to do, stop the plane?

  She stayed on the couch until the wee hours of the morning, worrying over the flight. It was bad enough her having to fly all over the country, but now Mike. She couldn't bear losing him. If she hadn't come to New York, this wouldn't be happening. It was her fault. There were no survivors. The words rang in her ears like a gong.

  With only a couple hours of sleep, she showered, dressed, and headed for the airport.

  Snow covered the ground, the windshield of the taxi, everything. How could a plane survive a flight in this kind of weather?

  She arrived a couple of hours early, walking the long corridors of the airport, trying to calm herself. She stopped in the coffee shop, and memories filled her thoughts. Mike's face seemed to appear everywhere she looked.

  Her prayers did little to reassure her. Faith, and trust, yes that's what she needed.

  She gla
nced at the gate signs. Mike's plane had been delayed. They expected it to arrive in another hour. Another hour! How could she possibly wait that long?

  She sat at the big window, watching the planes coming in, marveling at how anyone could manipulate such a craft in this snowstorm. She gripped the armrest of her seat until her knuckles turned white. Where was he?

  She began pacing and finally went up to the desk. "I'm sorry," she said, "but could you give me any information on Flight 207."

  "Flight 207, just a minute let me check, for you," the attendant said with a smile.

  Dixie strummed her nails against the counter.

  "Yes, the flight has been delayed. It looks like it might be another hour."

  "Another hour, but—" Dixie's heart plummeted. Perhaps that was a good sign. They were obviously being very careful about flying in the storm—maybe the delay would save him. She nodded at the attendant and decided to walk for a while. She walked the corridors, noting the people coming and going, and wishing she could relax.

  No one else looked startled or afraid. No one else seemed to be panicked. Still, she might as well have been in the plane herself. Her body tensed like a bomb about to go off as she realized suddenly that she was facing her worst nightmare—a nightmare she had relived over and over since Audrey's death. Audrey was dead because she wanted to come to see Dixie. Her sister was dead because Dixie left home and alienated herself from her family. It was her fault—just as it would be if anything happened to Mike.

  Nearly wearing herself out from a mixture of worry and aimless walking, Dixie finally took a seat in front of one of the large windows. An older woman sat comfortably beside her, staring out into the gray sky. "Are you waiting for someone on flight 207?" Dixie asked.

  The woman smiled warmly. "Yes, my daughter. And you?"

  "Yes, a friend."

  "These delays can be a pain but it'll be here. Those fly boys don't take chances in this kind of weather," the woman said quite calmly.

  "I'm a little nervous. I hate flying, myself," Dixie admitted, not knowing why she was so open with this stranger, this woman who calmly sat knitting as she talked.

  "I know what you mean, but it's actually one of the safest ways to travel."

  "Really? Don't you worry about your daughter flying? I mean, doesn't it bother you. What if she—" Dixie stopped abruptly. She didn't want to utter the word crashed in connection with the woman's daughter, and didn't want to think of it in connection with Mike, either.

  The woman smiled knowingly and paused from her knitting long enough to pat Dixie's hand. "Sure, my daughter flies in regularly to see me, every six months. It's the easiest way for her to get here. And this way, we see each other more often. No, I don't worry. I leave that in God's hands. Besides, my daughter loves it."

  "Have you encountered many delays?" Dixie asked.

  "A few, yes. And worse weather than this. At least this is just snow, not ice. Just as well that they were delayed with this storm. I'd rather be safe than sorry." She smiled warmly at Dixie, who's trepidation was evident. "Now, don't you worry child," she said, patting Dixie's hand again.

  "I guess you're right." Dixie shook off a chill.

  The old woman eyed her a moment, pushed back a strand of wayward gray hair and smiled again. "You'll see. Your friend will be here in no time at all." She went back to her knitting.

  The sign flashed the arrival time of the flight and Dixie felt herself relax a bit. What the woman said made sense. Air travel was safer than any other form of transportation. Crashes were few and far between. Mike would make it.

  An hour later the plane finally landed. She watched it taxi in. Mike came strolling towards her from the ramp, a big grin on his face, his arms outstretched. Dixie was so relieved and happy to see him that she threw her arms around him and kissed him square on the lips. He cut the kiss short.

  "Let's get out of here," he murmured near her ear.

  "See, I told you everything would be alright," the old woman said as she walked up to them.

  "Thank you for being there with me. You helped more than you know."

  After gathering his luggage, they took a taxi to her apartment. It was a quiet ride full of unasked questions.

  "Why did you insist on coming in this storm, Mike? Why did you risk it?" She couldn't wait until they were safe in her apartment.

  "It was the fastest way to get here. I'm getting married and I wanted you to be the first to know."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Feeling completely numb from Mike's surprise announcement, Dixie did her best to hide her shock. When they arrived at her apartment, she took his coat and Mike settled on the couch, glancing about as she insisted on fixing him a sandwich. She had to stay busy and not think about his announcement. Mike was getting married. Her Mike. She felt as though her world was coming to an end.

  "Where's Mandy?" she managed to say, sounding almost natural.

  "She's staying with Emily for a few days."

  "Is anything wrong, at home? I mean, surely you didn't just fly here to tell me you're getting married. Are Mom, Bernie and the boys okay?"

  "They're all fine. I've never seen Emily so happy. Only she misses her daughter."

  She waited for him to answer before letting out a breath.

  When he realized her relief, he added, "No, nothing is wrong, sweetheart. And yes, that's the biggest reason I'm here. To tell you all about the girl I'm marrying."

  Dixie most definitely didn't want to know about his new sweetheart. He couldn't possibly know how good she felt to see him—to smell that wonderful fresh scent that was all Mike, to touch that hard body, to taste the sweet wine of his kisses.

  She slipped a hot skillet of eggs onto a plate and placed it on the table. Then she took out the mayonnaise and bread and brought it to the table too.

  "This isn't fancy, but I figured you needed something now. I'll fix us a nice supper later."

  "That would be nice."

  "Great, let me change, and I'll be right out." She smiled—which wasn't easy under the circumstances.

  "Hurry, we don't want these eggs to cool off."

  She threw on a patched pair of jeans and an old beige silk shirt she loved to wear around the house, trying desperately not to cry all the while. There'd be plenty of time for that later, when he was gone.

  "It's great seeing you again but what's really going on, Mike?" she asked nervously as she sat down at the table and dug into the sandwich in a fury.

  He laughed. She squirmed. His long lashes veiled his thoughts from her. He was full of smiles and teasing—obviously he was elated at the prospect of his getting married. Dixie's heart sank a bit more.

  "We'll get around to that, later," he said. "For now, let's eat before it gets cold. You look frozen. And I want to know why you didn't want me to fly in."

  "Well, it's the first big snow and …" She gestured toward the window in the living room, not able to say any more. Had he guessed her fears?

  "Yes, unlike at home, it's thick enough to really be beautiful. But why the panic, sweetheart?"

  "I'm just not fond of flying, that's all."

  "Because of Audrey?" He watched her closely.

  She bowed her head. "Yes. I can't keep that day out of my mind when someone I care…I mean … when I hear about anyone else flying in this weather. Even when I fly I'm terrified."

  "I'm sorry I worried you. And I'm sorry your lifestyle has forced you to endure the agony." His expression softened.

  Watching her wipe her mouth, his eyes lingered on her lips, and she squirmed again.

  "It's okay. I'm starting to get the fear under control, I think. I know it's not really rational." She reflected on the conversation with the woman at the airport. "I had a long talk with a woman at the airport who was used to waiting for people to arrive. The conversation was very enlightening."

  "It's okay to be afraid of something, Dixie, as long as you don't let it take control of you. Audrey died in a crash, an accident. I know you
've lost a lot of people in your life, sweetheart, but I think you've had all the losing you're going to for a while."

  Hah! Her thoughts screamed. I'm losing you, Mike! "I know," she said calmly. "I guess it will never be my favorite mode of transportation."

  "You've lost weight," he remarked, giving her the once over.

  "Thanks." She tried to laugh without much success. "So have you."

  "But you're skin and bones."

  "Gee, thanks again," she said as she screwed her face into a half-smile.

  "I like your place, very modest, but cute."

  Dixie bit into her sandwich, glancing at his navy blue western cut suit. He looked good enough to eat. "Everyone has that surprised look on their face when they see my place. But the minute I found it, I knew it was the one for me. The landlady's rough, but very protective of her tenants. I liked that. It made me feel safe. When I first came here it scared me witless, but now I'm used to it, and very comfortable."

  "It's very—homey."

  An uncomfortable silence blanketed the room for a few moments.

  Mike cleared his throat. "So, how's the recording business?"

  Dixie endured the idle conversation with frustration. When was he going to say what was on his mind? "Not much recording lately. I've been through some rough times, especially since I quit working for Ed. I put a lot of miles on these feet, and I'm doing what I want for the first time."

  "Which is?"

  "Writing songs."

  "Your mother said you changed something. Problems?"

  Dixie tried to laugh, but it caught in her throat. "There were, but they're resolved now. And I'm writing one of my best works now—something I've always wanted to do."

  "So, does this mean you and Ed are really through?"

  "We never really got started. It was hard getting back into the swing of things after going home. I got spoiled. Apparently I've been hard to deal with ever since." She gave a small chuckle. "Anyway, we decided it was time to go our separate ways."