You, Me and a Palm Tree
Inglath Cooper
You, Me and a Palm Tree Copyright © 2015
Contents
Copyright
Books by Inglath Cooper
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Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
CeCe
Holden
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Copyright
Published by Fence Free Entertainment, LLC
Copyright © Inglath Cooper, 2015
Cooper, Inglath
Nashville – Book Nine – You, Me and a Palm Tree / Inglath Cooper
ISBN – 978-0-9862825-4-6
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the email address below.
Fence Free Entertainment, LLC
[email protected]
Books by Inglath Cooper
Dragonfly Summer – Book Two – Smith Mountain Lake Series
Blue Wide Sky – Book One – Smith Mountain Lake Series
Rock Her
Crossing Tinker’s Knob
Jane Austen Girl
Good Guys Love Dogs
Truths and Roses
A Gift of Grace
RITA® Award Winner John Riley’s Girl
A Woman With Secrets
Unfinished Business
A Woman Like Annie
The Lost Daughter of Pigeon Hollow
A Year and a Day
Nashville – Book Nine – You, Me and a Palm Tree
Nashville – Book Eight – R U Serious
Nashville – Book Seven – Commit
Nashville – Book Six – Sweet Tea and Me
Nashville – Book Five – Amazed
Nashville – Book Four – Pleasure in the Rain
Nashville – Book Three – What We Feel
Nashville – Book Two – Hammer and a Song
Nashville – Book One – Ready to Reach
On Angel’s Wings
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Get a FREE copy of Jane Austen Girl by joining Inglath Cooper’s newsletter mailing list! Just click here.
Reviews
“If you like your romance in New Adult flavor, with plenty of ups and downs, oh-my, oh-yes, oh-no, love at first sight, trouble, happiness, difficulty, and follow-your-dreams, look no further than extraordinary prolific author Inglath Cooper. Ms. Cooper understands that the romance genre deserves good writing, great characterization, and true-to-life settings and situations, no matter the setting. I recommend you turn off the phone and ignore the doorbell, as you’re not going to want to miss a moment of this saga of the girl who headed for Nashville with only a guitar, a hound, and a Dream in her heart.” – Mallory Heart Reviews
“Truths and Roses . . . so sweet and adorable, I didn’t want to stop reading it. I could have put it down and picked it up again in the morning, but I didn’t want to.” – Kirkusreviews.com
On Truths and Roses: “I adored this book…what romance should be, entwined with real feelings, real life and roses blooming. Hats off to the author, best book I have read in a while.” – Rachel Dove, FrustratedYukkyMommyBlog
“I am a sucker for sweet love stories! This is definitely one of those! It was a very easy, well written, book. It was easy to follow, detailed, and didn’t leave me hanging without answers.” – www.layfieldbaby.blogspot.com
“I don’t give it often, but I am giving it here – the sacred 10. Why? Inglath Cooper’s A GIFT OF GRACE mesmerized me; I consumed it in one sitting. When I turned the last page, it was three in the morning.” – MaryGrace Meloche, Contemporary Romance Writers
5 Blue Ribbon Rating! “. . .More a work of art than a story. . .Tragedies affect entire families as well as close loved ones, and this story portrays that beautifully as well as giving the reader hope that somewhere out there is A GIFT OF GRACE for all of us.” — Chrissy Dionne, Romance Junkies 5 Stars
“A warm contemporary family drama, starring likable people coping with tragedy and triumph.” 4 1/2 Stars. — Harriet Klausner
“A GIFT OF GRACE is a beautiful, intense, and superbly written novel about grief and letting go, second chances and coming alive again after devastating adversity. Warning!! A GIFT OF GRACE is a three-hanky read…better make that a BIG box of tissues read! Wowsers, I haven’t cried so much while reading a book in a long long time…Ms. Cooper’s skill makes A GIFT OF GRACE totally believable, totally absorbing…and makes Laney Tucker vibrantly alive. This book will get into your heart and it will NOT let go. A GIFT OF GRACE is simply stunning in every way—brava, Ms. Cooper! Highly, highly recommended!” – 4 1/2 Hearts — Romance Readers Connection
“…A WOMAN WITH SECRETS…a powerful love story laced with treachery, deceit and old wounds that will not heal…enchanting tale…weaved with passion, humor, broken hearts and a commanding love that will have your heart soaring and cheering for a happily-ever-after love. Kate is strong-willed, passionate and suffers a bruised heart. Cole is sexy, stubborn and also suffers a bruised heart…gripping plot. I look forward to reading more of Ms. Cooper’s work!” – www.freshfiction.com
Holden
YOU THINK YOU know what matters in life. Chasing after a dream. Catching it. Holding onto it. Fighting for it, if necessary.
Until everything comes to a jolting halt, and you get it. Finally, you get it. And it becomes crystal clear that everything you thought mattered, doesn’t matter at all, unless you have the one thing that really does.
For me, that’s CeCe. My wife. My soul mate. My other half.
I stare at her beautiful face now, reach out and brush the back of my hand across her cheek. Tears well in my eyes, and it feels as if the pain inside me will provide them with permanent fuel, that they will never stop.
The machine monitoring her heart beeps a steady rhythm. Outside the hospital room, I hear the low hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional staccato of alarm, another person’s emergency, another person’s pain.
And then I hear CeCe’s mom, talking with one of the nurses, repeating questions she’s already asked because the answers aren’t ones she wants to hear.
“We have no way of knowing how long she will remain unconscious, Mrs. MacKenzie,” the nurse responds kindly.
Then Case’s voice, asking when they can speak to a doctor.
How did we get here? How did I allow this to happen to CeCe? How did I not realize the danger? Missed the fact that I was putting her at risk. How could I have missed the significance of C
harlotte Gearly’s actions? How could I have thought there wouldn’t be some horrible end to them?
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice breaking. “Please wake up. Come back. Please come back. I’m here for you. I’m waiting. I need you so much. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
I hear footsteps at the door, raise my head to find Thomas standing there, looking at me with unedited grief on his face. “Hey, man,” he says.
“Hey, Thomas,” I say, sitting up without bothering to clear the torment from my expression.
He walks over, and I stand up from my chair. He reaches out and clamps me in a hard hug, holding onto me like one brother trying to save another from drowning. I absorb the comfort he’s offering because I know that he understands. No one in this world could possibly understand the way he does.
“I’m so sorry, Holden,” he says, each word laden with the weight of pure sorrow.
There aren’t any other words to cover it. He lets me go after a few moments, pulling back to give me a long look.
“You’re going to get through this,” he says. “And so will CeCe. You know how strong she is. She’s going to be okay.”
I want to believe he’s right. Dear God, I want to. “What if she’s not, Thomas?”
“Don’t do that,” he says. “She needs your faith. Your strength. You need to give her that.”
“How did I let this happen?” I ask, shaking my head.
Misery darkens Thomas’s expression, and I suspect he’s also blaming himself. “We can’t control what another person does, Holden. That girl was sick. Mentally sick. CeCe was a victim of that.”
“Our baby was a victim of that,” I say, pain rising in me with so much force that my knees buckle, and I sink onto the chair next to the bed, crying under the weight of sorrow. “Maybe that’s why she’s not waking up. Because she knows our baby is gone.”
Thomas puts a hand on my shoulder, gripping hard as if it’s the only way he can keep me from slipping into a darker place than the one I’m already in. I don’t look up at him, but I can feel the grief shaking through him. It settles in the room around us, a choking blanket of disbelief.
“You’re going to get through this, Holden,” he says. “Both of you are.”
But I don’t know if he’s right. If CeCe will let herself come back. All I know is that I don’t want to be here without her.
I can’t be here without her.
♪
THOMAS SITS ON one side of the bed, holding CeCe’s hand, and I sit on the other. Neither of us lets go, and we don’t talk. I can’t find any words that seem capable of expressing what I’m feeling. So I don’t try, and neither does he.
At some point, the door to the room opens, and a doctor walks in. The nurses have been in and out constantly, but this is the first time Dr. Walker has been in since early morning. Thomas and I both stand at his entrance but don’t let go of CeCe’s hands.
Dr. Walker is the most prominent doctor at Vanderbilt for traumatic brain injury. And although he’s already assured me CeCe’s CT scan looks good, he knows I am beyond terrified by the fact that she hasn’t woken up yet.
“She has every reason to come back,” Dr. Walker says, looking at me with a sincerity I am grateful for. “Sometimes, a patient needs to resurface at her own speed. Our bodies and brains are far more complex than we can begin to understand. I believe that our brains sometimes protect us from grief and loss in exactly this way. Keep talking to her, telling her things you know she needs to hear. And we will wait.”
I nod once, grateful for his assurance, hoping I have the strength to believe it.
♪
TWO DETECTIVES ARRIVE at the hospital late that afternoon. Thomas goes out into the hall to speak with them, coming back in a few moments and saying, “They’re insistent on speaking with you now. I’ll stay with her, okay?”
I don’t want to leave, but I know I’ll have to talk with them eventually. I’ve already put them off several times.
I walk out into the hall where a man and woman dressed in dark clothes are waiting for me. “Mr. Ashford,” the woman says, “we’ll try not to take too much of your time. We understand what you’re going through, but we do need to ask you a few questions. There’s a waiting room just down the hall. Maybe we could talk there?”
I nod and follow them to the room that is thankfully empty.
“I’m Detective Aronson,” she says, “and this is my partner, Detective Linder. Why don’t we sit?”
We take the circle of chairs by the window, and I drop onto the seat, wanting only to get it over with.
“We understand that Charlotte Gearly had been stalking you for some time. Is that correct?”
“That’s correct,” I say.
“Were you aware that she was in the house?”
The question comes from Detective Linder, and the words contain none of the empathy his partner had just shown.
I lean back a little, trying to assess his angle. “If I had known she was in the house, do you think I would have let her anywhere near my wife?”
“Of course not,” Detective Aronson says. “Do you believe she had ever been in the house before?”
“Not to my knowledge, but we know that she stole our dog from our backyard and dropped him a few hours away. I knew she was capable of bad stuff, but I never imagined—”
“We’re very sorry, Mr. Ashford,” the female detective says softly. “We just need to tie up some loose ends.”
I stare at them for a few moments, trying to find words that might in some way be appropriate. But I don’t have any. Because the whole thing is just so sad. It’s sad that Charlotte Gearly was a sick person who needed help and didn’t get it. Sadder still that her actions took from CeCe and me a child we will never have the chance to know.
♪
CeCe
I HEAR HOLDEN calling me.
I want to answer. But something is stopping me. I don’t know what it is. It feels as if my brain is being held hostage. Preventing words from surfacing past my lips.
I try to open my eyes. It feels as if they are hinged shut. As if I’m not in control of anything regarding my body.
And there’s pain. In my abdomen? Or is it my chest? My heart?
Frustration wells up and settles tight in my throat.
Holden’s voice again. I reach for it, struggling to process what I hear in the sound of my name.
He’s crying.
What’s wrong?
I try to scream the words but they only echo in my head.
He needs me. Holden needs me. I have to get to him. I try to move up, forward. There’s a wall in front of me though. I can’t push through it.
Why can’t I get to him? Panic stabs my chest like a knife. There’s an answer. It floats up from somewhere deep inside me. I reach for it, feel it slip through my fingers like water.
I start to sob because I want to know what I’m reaching for. Am I crying out loud? Or is it only in my head?
Why is Holden crying? Why am I crying? What’s happened?
And then I remember.
Oh, dear God. I remember.
♪
LIFE GIVES US choices.
Sometimes, they’re so small we can’t possibly recognize their significance until it’s too late. Until the decision is made. And then there is no more choice. Only consequence.
The choice was to think that we could handle the situation with Charlotte. Assume that she could never really hurt us. And we were wrong.
I don’t want to open my eyes. I know Holden is here beside me. I feel him, feel his grief, his love like a cloak waiting to envelop me. If I open my eyes, I will have to let it in. Acknowledge the why of his grief.
Because I know.
Our baby is gone. As soon as full awareness descended over me, I knew.
I’m empty inside. It’s the certainty of this emptiness that makes me realize what it meant to have that little life growing within me. The miracle of it. The heartbrea
king loss of that life.
I feel Holden take my hand, lace his fingers through mine. Finally, I force myself to open my eyes, and I settle my blurred gaze on his beautiful, grief-stricken face.
He raises his eyes to mine, and I see the fear collapse inside him. He reaches for me, scooping me up and into his arms. I realize there’s a cast on my right arm, and it feels like a hard wall between us.
“CeCe. Thank God. Oh, baby. Thank, God.”
He begins to cry. And I know I should. The pain inside my chest is like nothing I’ve ever known. I want the release of tears, but they won’t come. I bury my face against his shoulder.
I am numb. Feeling something, anything would be a relief.
But there is nothing. Just blank space where there was once joy, hope, happiness. I can’t imagine ever feeling any of those things again.
♪
HOLDEN KEEPS THE police out of the room for nearly twenty-four hours. I hear him arguing with them outside the door a few times. I’m grateful at first, but then reality insists that I can only put it off for so long, and I tell him to let them in. I want to get it over with.
Holden reluctantly agrees, but manages to convince the two detectives waiting to see me that both of them will be too much for me. The woman comes in alone, closing the door behind her, softening her expression as she approaches the bed.
“Hello, Mrs. Ashford. I’m sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances.”
“CeCe is fine,” I say. “Please, sit down.”
“Thank you,” she says, pulling a chair to an angle where we are facing each other. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, I guess.”
“I wanted to say I’m very sorry about—”
“Thank you,” I say, not letting her finish. I don’t want to hear token condolences. And then, realizing I’m being unfair to her, add, “How can I help you, detective?”
“We just have a few questions to ask you about Ms. Gearly and the night of the accident.”
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