A Second Chance House

by Stacey Wilk

  She could go to Tennessee and check out this house. She could call the law firm in the morning for more details. If she liked what she heard, she would make a plan to go. What harm would it do to just see the house? She didn’t have other options anyway. She hated when Larry was right. She stood to make the most money with his offer. She’d be an idiot not to take him up on it, and he was banking on that.

  The idea of that woman living in her house still made her skin itch. “It’s just a house, Grace. Stop being ridiculous.” But it was her house. The house where she raised Chloe. The house she wanted grandchildren to visit. Was the house she shared with Larry ever really a home? Well, maybe, for about five minutes.

  She could use a few days away. If this house in Tennessee really was hers, she could sell it and have extra money to buy something nicer than she originally thought. Maybe something with a porch she could sit on in the mornings with a cup of tea.

  Buying a new house in town would be a fresh start. Didn’t she deserve one too? A way to show Larry she didn’t need him.

  But did she really want to run into them at the grocery store? Or the library? Or any number of places the new Mrs. Starr would show up with her rounded belly and then later with her child in tow. It would be bad enough to deal with them at Chloe’s college graduation in four years or when she married and had children of her own. She shook her head at the thought of Larry’s new child possibly being close in age to a child of Chloe’s. The man was pathetic.

  She didn’t want to move away. She loved Silverside with its tree-lined streets and parks. She could smell the ocean from her front lawn. Her life was there. How could she live somewhere else? No town would speak to her the way Silverside did.

  She’d sell her half to Larry and hope for the best. In the meantime, she’d go to Tennessee and learn more about this mysterious house. She needed to start living again. Even though her insides shook with the idea of jumping on a plane to some area unknown without the safety net of a plan, she knew she had to. For once, Grace Starr would take a risk. Hopefully, taking a chance didn’t backfire.

  Chapter Two

  Blaise Savage stared at his bandaged hand as if it belonged to someone else. The brace had turned gray from dirt and sweat, and it was starting to smell like old socks, although he’d only been wearing it for a week. He yanked on the garden hose with his good hand. He was convinced the stupid thing had tied itself in knots when no one was looking.

  The hose barely moved. He kicked and cursed, hoping it would make him feel better. It didn’t. How was he supposed to plant a garden without a working hose? Isn’t that what regular guys did? They planted tomatoes and zucchinis and handed them over the fence to neighbors.

  He glanced at the neighbor’s house. Well, no one had been on that side of the fence in years. Surprisingly, the house hadn’t been condemned. And he was going to have to look at that piece of shit for the next three months. Maybe less time. He wasn’t going to wait for the okay from the doc. He was going back on the road as soon as the dates were ready. Colton was rearranging the schedule after Blaise’s accident.

  He didn’t want to be back in Heritage River with a bum hand, but he didn’t have anywhere else to go. A musician wanted to be on the road, playing in cities across the country. Behind his drum kit was the only place that ever made sense to him. He understood time signatures and rhythms. He didn’t always understand people. Even people he thought he knew well. They were the ones who surprised him most. You thought you could trust someone, and then you were wrong.

  He gave up on the hose. The idea of planting tomatoes made him feel like his grandfather, but the doc told him to do something to get his mind off his hand and his troubles. Planting wasn’t getting his mind off his hand. All it was doing was getting dirt in his brace.

  His phone vibrated against his hip. When he saw the number, he debated answering. The last thing he needed was Melissa’s shrill voice in his ear, complaining about not having enough money. If he didn’t have to pay her so much alimony, he might not be in this much trouble and he wouldn’t need the tour as much as he did.

  He would answer the call and put up with her sharp voice because of his son. He hit the button and tried not to sigh into the phone. “What’s up, Melis?”

  “Must you call me that?”

  He sighed anyway. “What can I do for you?”

  “I know this might not be the best time for you because of your hand—I read about it on Facebook—but I need your help.”

  “Then you know I can’t give you any extra money right now. The tour has been suspended.”

  “This has nothing to do with money. It’s Cash. He’s in trouble again, and I’m out of ideas. He needs his father.”

  Blaise ran a hand back and forth through his hair. Cash in trouble again. When was it going to end? He had been wild as a kid, but not like Cash. Was it because he and Melissa were divorced? Was Cash constantly reacting to having a broken home? Or was he just mad at Blaise for not being around? Not coaching baseball games or sitting in at school conferences? Once he and Melissa split, she moved back to California and took Cash with her. What was he supposed to do?

  “What did he do now?” The afternoon sun beat on the back of his neck. Sweat rolled between his shoulder blades.

  “It sounds worse than it is, but—”

  “You always try to put a good face on the things he does. Did you ever think that was part of the problem? Maybe if you punished him when he did something he wasn’t supposed to, then he wouldn’t be in another mess.”

  “Me? You’re going to blame this on me?” She made muffled sounds with her phone. Maybe she switched ears. “Of course you’re going to blame me. That’s what you always do, but this has nothing to do with me. I’ve tried with him over and over. He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t care. There are no consequences strong enough to make him sit up and listen. Until now.”

  “So just do it, then. If you found the right button to push, do it.” Why was she calling him about this? He couldn’t do anything from this part of the country. “Do you want me to talk to him or something? I could do that video camera thing with him later and give him a lecture.” It might not work, because Cash didn’t listen to him either, but he was willing to try.

  “You can do better. You’re going to take him for the summer. When I saw the tour was suspended, I knew it was the best idea.”

  Blaise tripped over the hose. “Wait a second. I can’t take him. As soon as Colton reschedules everything, I’m going back on the road. I might be back out there in a couple of weeks.”

  “Tell Colton to push the dates back to September. You’ll probably sell more tickets that way anyhow. Your son needs you, Blaise. You’re never around, and that’s why he acts out so much. He’s dying for you to pay attention to him.”

  “The whole summer?” He might be a great drummer, but he was a lousy father. He knew it. You can’t be any good at it when you’re constantly saying goodnight on the telephone. His father had given up his whole life to raise him and his siblings. Blaise hadn’t been that unselfish.

  “Yes, the entire summer. It will be good for both of you. Cash needs to see his father loves him and cares about what happens to him.”

  “I do love him. He knows that.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Honestly, when was the last time you spent quality time with him? Christmas for a few days? You don’t know how he’s doing in school. You don’t know that he has only one friend. Only one. You’re not checking his computer history and reading his texts.”

  Melissa let out a long breath. “I love him, but I don’t know what to do with him anymore. He’s gone too far this time, and I need you to take him for a while. I need a break.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Melissa, what did he do?” She was scaring him a little.

  “You have to keep him at your house in Heritage River, not in Nashville. And don’t you dare take him on the road. You hear me? He needs stability.”

  He had sold the Nashville ho
use, but she didn’t know that. It’s what he used to pay her alimony for the past six months. “You know he’s practically an adult.”

  “Just because he’s almost eighteen doesn’t mean he’s an adult. He’s a child looking for approval from his father. I have him booked on a flight for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? And you waited until now to call me?”

  “I wasn’t going to give you a chance to say no. He’s already packed, and believe me, he doesn’t like this setup. Only, I didn’t tell him I hadn’t spoken to you yet. He thinks you want him to come. I lied for you to try and help your relationship with your son. So don’t say I never do anything for you. You need this time with him.”

  “For the last time, tell me what he did.” His mind raced through possibilities. Did he rob someone? Hurt a girl? Cheat on a test?

  “He burned a house down.”

  Chapter Three

  Cash burned a house down. Blaise yanked on the garden hose enough to allow the water to run. He splashed his face and neck. The brace on his hand dripped. He shook his head and let the water run down his shirt.

  Okay, it wasn’t a full house with people inside. He breathed a sigh of relief on that one. It was just the frame of a new house. What the fuck Cash was thinking, Blaise would never know. Cash’s acting out was his fault. If he had been a better father, paid more attention, this would never have happened. Would it?

  The good news, if there was any—Cash was still seventeen. He wouldn’t turn eighteen until September. Melissa bailed him out, hired an attorney, and got him off with community service. The judge liked the idea of Cash getting out of town for the summer. Now Blaise would have to find him the community service he would have to do.

  The pounding in his head matched the pounding in his hand. He stepped inside the air-conditioned kitchen, leaving a trail of dirt and water on the tiles, and rummaged in the whitewashed cabinet for some Advil. The sun lit up the small space, accenting the dirty dishes in the sink. He’d have to do some housecleaning before tomorrow. Was there someone in town he could hire? He hadn’t been back to Heritage River in six months. But every time he walked into his childhood house, he felt at home. Probably because this was where their father had taught them about music and where they had played together as a family. Except for Savannah. She didn’t play. Savannah, the youngest of the Savage kids, had baked cookies and hung a sheet up in the living room, pretending it was a stage, and ordered them around as if she were their manager.

  Colton was going to blow a gasket when he found out the tour had to wait until after the summer ended. He was storming mad when he found out Blaise couldn’t play and fifty dates had to be changed. Colton even threatened to leave without him. But it was just Colton blowing steam. His older brother would never do that to him.

  He didn’t want to think about the appearance of his bank account until the fall, when they hit the road again. And what if they didn’t sell more tickets by making their already-dwindling number of fans wait even longer to see them? Summer was the best time to tour.

  He yanked open the stainless-steel fridge when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

  He frowned at the screen. Another call better sent to voice mail. “What’s up?” His salutation sounded calmer than he felt. He popped two Advil and swigged some lemonade.

  “I’m checking on how my kid brother is surviving in that matchbox-size house. That’s what’s up.”

  Colton never understood why Blaise kept their childhood home. He wanted to sell and split the money between the three Savage kids, but Blaise couldn’t let it go. He bought out his siblings and kept the house for himself. “What’s really up?”

  “Can’t I ask how you’re doing? Christ, man, you’ve been in a lousy mood since you busted up your hand.”

  Blaise let out a sigh, wiped his face with his bad hand, and bit back a groan. “You’re right. Sorry. My hand is getting better.” If he ignored the pain.

  “Listen, Joe Kelly called. He can line us up dates to finish out the tour. You know, the ones we had to reschedule.”

  There was the truth. Colton tried to hide it, but Blaise knew Colton blamed him for postponing the tour, even if he never said it. It didn’t matter that accidents happen. “Sounds great. When exactly?”

  Colton took so long to answer Blaise thought he’d hung up. “In four weeks.”

  He stared at the ceiling. Four weeks. Of course. That was just his luck. He was hoping to postpone this conversation at least until Cash had arrived, but that wasn’t in the cards. “I can’t be ready in four weeks.” He braced himself for the explosion.

  “What do you mean you can’t be ready in four weeks?”

  Blaise held the phone away from his ear.

  “As far as your hand is concerned, you’ll be fine.” Colton surprised him by lowering his voice. “Look at the guy from Def Leppard. He plays the drums with one arm. What are you whining about? Your drumming can’t get any worse. Trust me.” He laughed at his own joke.

  Blaise wanted to deck him. He gritted his teeth. “It’s not my hand. Cash is coming to stay with me for the summer.”

  “Why?” The question wasn’t as hateful as it sounded. Any other time Cash wouldn’t be staying with him. Colton loved Cash. They were buddies. Maybe that was part of Cash’s problem.

  He told Colton the whole story.

  “Wow, man, I didn’t know your kid had it in him. He makes what we did as kids look like amateurs.”

  “I know.”

  Colton laughed again. “Okay. Whatever. Doesn’t matter anyway, does it? Melissa got him off, and your punishment is to spend the summer trying to make your kid feel guilty about what he did.”

  “It’s not punishment spending time with my kid.” Was Melissa trying to punish him too? Was there any chance she exaggerated the offense? Probably. She resented how he picked music over her. Except when she bought whatever she wanted with the money he made. Then she didn’t seem to mind his career choice. And would she have ever looked twice at him before they ruled the airwaves? After all the years of fans chanting his name, he still couldn’t believe the guy staring at him in the mirror was a famous musician. He was and always would be some awkward kid from a small town in the South.

  “Take Cash with you on tour,” Colton said, bringing Blaise’s thoughts back to the present.

  “I can’t. He has to do community service, stay put, and learn some responsibility.”

  “He can work as a roadie.”

  Blaise walked to the back door. The neighbor’s house mocked him with its slanted roof and broken shutters. “Working as a roadie doesn’t count as community service.”

  “It does in my book.”

  He stepped outside and stood at the fence. Maybe the town would let Cash fix up that house. “I’ve been writing music. I want us to record it,” he said, not sure now was the time for this conversation.

  “I’ve said all I’ve got to say, Blaise. You know that.”

  Colton hadn’t written a thing since he dried up and got clean and didn’t want anyone else in the band to write either. “You don’t have to write anything. Just record it. My stuff’s good, and we need new music. We can’t keep playing the same old shit. Nobody cares.”

  “Not happening, little brother. I’m the songwriter in the group.”

  “I can write music too, you asshole.”

  “Yeah, but you suck at it.” Colton laughed.

  “Listen, I’ve got to run.” What was the point discussing new music? The band’s name might be his, but Savage was and always would be Colton’s.

  “Remember we take off in four weeks.”

  “You saying you’d leave without me?” His blood heated up to the temperature outside. “After what I just told you about my son?”

  “I’m saying we’ve got our fans to think about, not to mention our careers. We don’t get back on the road soon, there won’t be any more fans, and don’t go bringing up songwriting again because that store is closed. Besides, the only place you�
��re ever happy is on the road. Do you really know how to be a father who hangs around the house doing something stupid like planting that garden of yours?”

  Blaise continued to stare at the neglected and forgotten house. The gaping windows stared back. “Fuck you.” And he ended the call.

  Real mature, Blaise. He shoved the phone back in his pocket. Then with another thought, he yanked it back out and hit a button.

  He was about to disconnect when an out-of-breath voice answered. “Hey, sis.” He smiled into the phone.

  “Oh, Blaise, can I call you back? I’m about to run the kids to the pool for the afternoon, and I’m supposed to pick up their friends, and I have to stop at the library to grab some stuff for the fundraiser, and of course, I’m running late. Hey, why don’t you come over for dinner?”

  He laughed at his sister’s ability to say all that in one breath. She definitely had inherited their mother’s aptitude to accomplish ten tasks at once and never lose her cool. She made being a mother, a wife, and the head librarian, not to mention all her volunteer work, look easy. He couldn’t help but be proud of his little sister, who wasn’t bitten by the music bug and never felt any less important because her brothers could be heard on radios around the world. Well, they were heard a lot more years ago, but he didn’t want to think about that.

  “Thanks for the invite, but I can’t make it.” He had too much to do before Cash arrived tomorrow. “I just wanted some advice, but it’s not important. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Hang on. A Savage man calls looking for advice, and you say it isn’t important? Spill. The kids can wait.” He heard a chair scraping the floor behind her.

  “No, really, Savannah, it can wait. Can I take a rain check on the dinner and bring a guest?”

  “You’re seeing someone.” Her voice squealed. “You want advice about a woman.”

  “No, no. Your mind always goes to a woman. I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone. There isn’t a woman out there who understands what my life is like, and inevitably she will hate me for always being on the road.”