by Nan Dixon
Okay, baby steps with the driving, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel.
At the receptionist desk he made another appointment. “I sure hope that’ll be the last one.”
“You look better than you did two months ago.” The receptionist, old enough to be his grandmother, winked. “And you looked pretty good back then.”
He was smiling as he left. Still smiling as the cab dropped him off at his condo. And grinning when he grabbed his keys. He planned to hop in his truck and drive—finally.
He patted the leather seats of his F-150 pickup. Nice to be mobile again. On his way to Fitzgerald House, he figured out what he would do for the next two weeks. He would work on Rosa’s stairs and porch.
For the first time ever, he parked in the Fitzgerald House parking lot.
He took the steps to the apartment without needing to hold the railing. Success. Then stopped, not sure if he should use the key Carolina had given him or knock. With Ella there, things had changed. Even staying last night and knowing she was in the other room had been strange.
So he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door.
Ella answered it. “Good morning, again.”
“How is she?” he asked.
“Walking around like a zombie.” Ella wrapped her arms around her waist. “I don’t know what to do for her. She’s lost her balance.”
That, he could sympathize with. “What time does she work today?”
“Not until seven.” She eased away from the door so he could come in.
“Good. I’ll... I’ll take her away from here. To Tybee for lunch.”
“I hope that helps,” Ella said. “She’s in the kitchen.”
Belatedly he asked, “Do you want to come with us?”
“I play at five.” She shook her head. “Cheer up our girl.”
“I’ll try.” He headed to the kitchen and stopped under the archway.
Carolina stared into her mug, her hair drooping around her face.
His heart ached. “Hey.”
She blinked and tears fell into her coffee. “Hey.”
He hurried over and kissed her. “Let me take you to lunch.”
“Southern Comforts?” She shook her head. “No way.”
“Tybee. I’ve heard there’s a place by the lighthouse that has great fish tacos.”
“North Beach Bar and Grill.”
He nodded.
“I haven’t been there in ages. Let me grab my keys.” She pushed away from the table.
He pulled his keys out of his pocket. “No need. I’ll drive.”
“You were cleared to drive?” Her mouth dropped open before she hugged him. “That’s fantastic. What about working?”
He grimaced. “Not yet.”
“I’m sorry.”
And here was one more reason he’d fallen in love with her. While her world was in shambles, she was happy for him.
He kissed her, not just a quick brush like moments ago. This was a soul-merging kiss that, when it ended, left them both gasping.
He leaned his forehead on hers. “We’d better not do that again or I’ll march you right back to the bedroom. And I won’t care if Ella is listening.”
Some of the darkness melted from Carolina’s face. “Then we’d better leave.”
* * *
THEY HELD HANDS as he maneuvered his truck through the historic district’s one-way streets. “Tomorrow, I’ll start scraping your mother’s stairs and porch and pick up the paint.”
“Are you sure you want to?”
“I’m hoping I only have two weeks left of this sick leave. I want to get as much done as I can.”
“You are getting better.” He glanced over and saw a storm pass across her face.
“Hopefully, I can have everything done before your mother is released.” He eased through the pedestrian traffic. “She was exhausted when I dropped her at the hospital last night.”
“I talked to her this morning. She didn’t want me coming by because she wanted to nap.” Carolina chewed her lip. “I don’t want her to know what happened with the Fitzgeralds. It might set off more seizures and they’re just back under control.”
“I won’t say anything.” He accelerated as the causeway opened up. “What did Abby say?”
“She doesn’t want to upset her mother. She doesn’t see the resemblance. Last night was the best night ever in the restaurant.” It was like she was reciting a FBI report. Her normal melodic voice was a mere drone. “She’ll honor our contract through the month. I can stay in the apartment until my mother is released.”
“How do you feel?” His brothers would bust a gut if they’d heard him ask that question. But this was Carolina.
“Horrible.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “When she talked to me it was like I was—” she swallowed “—a stranger. Like she’d never hugged me or sent food to my mother. She hates me.”
“I’m sorry you lost her friendship.”
“Everyone blames me.” Her curls bounced as she shook her head. “Do you blame me?”
“I...” He had to get this right. “I love you, but...you weren’t honest with me.”
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I promised Mamá. I couldn’t tell anyone.”
Did that make it better? He thought they’d had something special. They were in love.
“I need the work. I need the money.” She turned to him. “I just have to keep my head down.”
He exhaled. “Let’s put it aside and enjoy the day while we have it. I hear storms are coming our way.”
She squeezed his thigh. “Is it a hurricane?”
“Tropical storm at this point.”
“Thank goodness. I remember Mamá talking about Matthew and Hugo. And I have vague memories of Floyd.”
Silence and tension settled around them like a blanket. He had to take his own advice and set it aside. Enjoy the day. He drummed his fingers on the wheel.
After parking near the lighthouse, they made their way along the path. Sand and shells crunched underfoot until they reached the restaurant deck.
She’d kept her mother’s secret from everyone, including him. That wasn’t love in his world. He tried to shut down his resentment, but it rubbed and pushed at him just like a saddle sore.
CHAPTER TWELVE
CAROLINA ADDED ONE more swipe of lipstick, then powdered her forehead and tucked her makeup bag into her locker.
She could do this. She could sing where they didn’t want her. It’s not like every employer loved her.
She headed out the door, hating that she had to pass by the kitchen.
“Good,” Abby called as she walked by. “I’ll be out to introduce you.”
How would Abby introduce her tonight? Hated member of the Fitzgerald House family?
Carolina couldn’t worry about that. She headed to the bar and ducked under the pass-through. “I’m grabbing water and lemons, Naomi.”
There was a new bartender helping out.
“Have fun up there tonight,” Naomi said. “Last night I raked in the tips. I’m hoping a Saturday night will be even better.”
Carolina smiled and squeezed lemon slices into her drink. Was everyone’s financial prosperity depending on her? Abby and her sisters would hate that.
She glanced at the balcony, hoping Abby’s mother wasn’t there. Luckily, the large table was empty.
Sage wasn’t at the bar, either. Her chest ached.
Ella worked her way through some Gershwin songs. They’d decided to open with Broadway numbers tonight.
She waited by the bar until Abby moved out of the kitchen and they met near the stage. Abby’s white toque flashed under the spotlight. “Are you ready?”
Carolina nodded.
Abby stepped up on the stage. “Welcome. I’m Abby Fitzgerald
. Last night was the first night we had live music. I hope you’ve enjoyed Ella Blade on the piano. Now you’re all in for a treat. Please welcome Carolina Castillo.”
Did Abby choke on her last name? And Carolina being part of the Fitzgerald House family had lasted less than twenty-four hours.
She shook back her hair and waved. Taking the mic from Abby, she asked, “How is everyone doing tonight?”
The response was lukewarm.
“Come on now. It’s Saturday. Are you having fun?”
The audience was louder this time.
“Good.” She slipped onto the stool. “As Abby said, I’m accompanied by the lovely Ella Blade. She’s been entertaining you. Isn’t she great?”
Now there was clapping.
“We’re going to take a walk down Broadway, but if there are any songs you’d like to request, please talk to your server or Ella. If we know it, we’ll sing it.”
And maybe the tip jar would grow even more tonight.
“We don’t know each other very well, but I hope we will by the end of the evening.” She nodded at Ella, who played the opening. “I’m from Tybee. Where are you lovely people from?”
People called out.
She picked up her cue and sang “Getting to Know You” from The King and I.
Sage took his place at the bar. He touched a finger to his mouth and pushed up a smile.
God, was she frowning? She forced a smile on her face and happiness into her voice. Who could be sad singing Rodgers and Hammerstein?
They worked through her favorite musicals, sticking with the happy songs. She moved around the stage, finally sitting to sing “Somewhere” from West Side Story.
She took a breath and found Sage. Their eyes locked and she sang to him, letting all her love, frustration, pain and heartache bleed into her voice.
The rest of the audience faded. It was only the piano, the spotlight and Sage.
She let the final note free. Let it soar into the balcony and sky.
Ella played the echo of the opening and resolved the chord.
Shutting her eyes, she inhaled.
The diners were silent, then the applause roared. A few got to their feet.
Carolina stood, needing to grab the stool to keep her balance. “I hope some of that is for the wonderful Ella.” She waved and Ella took a bow.
“I’ll be back in about a half hour. Eat. Enjoy. Have a drink.”
Ella turned off the small spotlight. Carolina’s legs wobbled as she walked down the stairs.
“Are you all right?” Ella took her arm.
“A little shaky.”
“Not when you were singing. Lord, girl, that last song had me crying.”
“Thanks.” She waved at a diner who quietly clapped as they walked by, leaning harder on Ella.
Ella frowned. “When did you last eat?”
Carolina had to think. “Lunch, I guess.”
Ella pulled her over to Sage. “This girl needs to eat something before she sings again.”
Sage gave up his seat and pointed at the fries on his plate. “Start with these.”
Carolina’s stomach churned at the thought of food, but she put a fry in her mouth and chewed.
“I have to head to the ladies’ room,” Ella said. “Are you going to take care of our girl?”
“I’m on it.” He scowled. “You barely ate lunch. Did you have something after I dropped you off?”
She shook her head.
Sage flagged down Naomi. “She needs something to eat before her next set. Comfort food?”
Naomi nodded. “I know just what will work and it’s fast.” She moved to the order station, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “That should help. Damn. You’re amazing. I can’t believe you were bartending when you have that kind of talent.”
Carolina winced. “I needed to make money while Mamá...” What could she say? They knew her mother was fighting cancer. She took a drink of the lemon water Naomi placed in front of her. And forced another fry into her mouth.
Ella, Naomi and Sage talked. The conversation swirled around her, but she didn’t hear or understand what they were saying.
A hand pressed against her back. She turned.
Abby stood behind her with a plate. Worry had her brows mashing together. “Heard we had an emergency. Are you okay?”
“I... I—”
“She forgot to eat,” Sage interrupted.
“Hope this helps.” Abby handed her the plate and turned away. But she turned back. “Will you be able to finish your sets?”
She nodded, hating the coolness in Abby’s voice.
When had Carolina’s feelings changed about her half sister? It wasn’t that long ago she’d resented asking Abby for a job. Now she longed for the closeness they’d had yesterday.
That was over.
“That last song.” Abby held up her hands. “Amazing. You could have heard a pin drop in the restaurant. The staff stopped working.”
“Sorry.”
“Sorry? You’re pulling in crowds. It’s standing-room only at the bar. And we’ve filled the balcony.”
“You have?” Carolina looked around. People waved and smiled at her. A crowd stood by the patio doors and up in the balcony.
“Word of mouth and our website. And there was a food critic here last night who raved about our food and your singing.”
Sage put an arm around Carolina’s shoulders. “You make a good team.”
Abby stared at Sage. “You might be right.”
Carolina’s mouth dropped open.
“You’d better eat. There’s not much time left and I don’t want the crowd to get ugly.” Abby spun around and headed to the kitchen.
“That was...interesting.” Sage turned her so she faced the food.
“We’re not a team, Sage.”
“More than you know. Or maybe interdependent?”
Carolina didn’t want to analyze their relationship. She dug into a chicken, mushroom and noodle dish that was delicious. “Mmm.”
He massaged her shoulders. “You could share.”
“Mmm-hmm.” But she kept shoveling in the tender chicken in an incredible gravy.
“You’re as tight as new cowboy boots.” He dug his fingers into her muscles. “You’ve given me tons of back rubs. I need to reciprocate.”
She pushed the plate away, knowing she didn’t sing her best on a full stomach. “You can finish that.”
“I will.” He kissed the back of her neck and slid so they were side by side in the tight space. “Can you come home with me tonight?”
With all the drama in the last two days, she should sleep in her own bed. Alone.
But that wasn’t what she wanted. “Yes.”
* * *
“MAMÁ, HOW ARE YOU feeling?” Carolina asked on Tuesday, setting her tote on the chair next to the hospital bed.
Mamá’s hair had been fixed and she looked good. “I want to go home.”
“Let’s ask Dr. Laster when we meet with her.”
“How did your sets go last night?” her mother asked. “You were so good when I saw you. You should be recording. Why aren’t you recording?”
Mamá was caught in a time warp believing it was Sunday and not Tuesday. She’d learned not to tell her mother that it had been a few days since she’d sung. And no way would she tell her the Fitzgeralds knew her true identity. “Ella thinks my rendition of ‘Somewhere’ was the best she’d ever heard.”
“I love that song!” Mamá started singing.
Carolina sang with her, harmonizing when she could. Her mother’s voice was deeper, but they blended and meshed.
She fumbled with her phone, trying to record their duet, but the song ended too soon. She needed to record her mother before it was too late.
A
pplause sounded from the doorway. “That was beautiful,” Dr. Laster said.
“My daughter’s singing here in town.”
The doctor nodded. “I heard her sing that song Saturday.”
“You were there?” Carolina asked.
“Upstairs. I couldn’t see you, but I could hear.” Dr. Laster touched her shoulder. “I’m so glad I went.”
“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” Mamá smiled.
“She sure is.” The doctor pulled up the extra chair. “But let’s talk about you, Rosa. I’ve met with your neurologist. If you can make it through the end of this week seizure-free, we’ll release you next week. You might be home for Halloween. If you feel strong enough, you could see Carolina sing again.”
“Home?” Mamá clasped her hands on her chest. “Finally.”
“Home.” Carolina wanted it for Mamá, but the logistics of caring for her mother at home were daunting.
“There are some things to consider,” Dr. Laster said.
Carolina flipped open the notebook she kept on her mother’s condition and the doctor’s instructions.
“Your seizures may have stopped, but the tumors are affecting your balance. We don’t want you falling, so you’ll need support when you return home. Rosa...” Dr. Laster took Mamá’s hands. “It’s time to call in hospice. I would like to set up a meeting before you leave the hospital.”
“But that means...” Tears rolled down Mamá’s cheek. “I’m not ready.”
“It’s to make sure you have what you need at home. Stairs will become more and more difficult. It not worth the risk.” Dr. Laster hadn’t let go of Mamá’s hands.
“My bedroom’s on the second floor,” Mama said.
“That will need to change.”
Carolina wrote things down as fast as she could. “We can do something with Poppy’s office. There’s a bathroom on the first level.” But climbing the steps to the house was another challenge.
“Keeping you on the main floor will be best.” Dr. Laster smiled at Carolina. “She shouldn’t be left alone.”
Hospice. Carolina tried to think back to the guidelines she’d read when she’d first arrived from Nashville. She choked out, “Does that mean she only has six months?”
It couldn’t be. What had all the weeks in the hospital bought her mother? Only pain and more seizures?