“Fine. Lecture me. Tell me I’m supposed to stand around and pet the lions while they tear me apart.”
“You’re a preacher’s kid,” George shot back. “You know the answer to that. But you’re also human. So am I. Stop trying to run the show, because you can’t.” George jabbed a finger at the sky. “Do you really think you can control the weather?” Next he pointed at the hills. “Or earthquakes?” He hooked a thumb at his own chest. “Or how about booze, addiction, and the lies printed in the National Enquirer?”
“Fine!” Zeke shouted. “I get the point. Shut up, will you? Just shut up!”
George didn’t say a word. Instead, he watched and waited for close to a minute. When he finally spoke, his voice came out so low Zeke had to strain to hear him. “I’m not the one you need to yell at. Tell God how you feel. Trust me, He can handle a grown man having a tantrum. He put up with Jacob and Moses, Job, and quite a few others—including me.”
Zeke understood the concept of that kind of love, but he couldn’t grasp it for himself. “My dad would say you’re presuming on God’s grace.”
“Maybe I am,” George said. “But in my experience, God would rather I presumed on His grace than walk around like a prideful buffoon. There’s a balance, and I’m looking for it. But until I get to heaven, I’m going to hang tight to that grace and thank God for every bloody drop of it.”
Grace. Zeke knew what the word meant in his mind, but his heart couldn’t grasp something so generous. A drop of rain splashed on his cheek. When he looked up, another one smacked his forehead.
Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap.
George strode toward the Corvette. “Let’s get out of here.”
The rain increased from sprinkles to a shower. George opened the car door, but Zeke shook his head. He and God weren’t finished yet, and he wasn’t leaving until he had some answers. “Go on ahead. I’ll walk back.”
George wiped the rain from his face with his sleeve. “Don’t be an idiot.”
“I’m not.”
“But—”
“Just go. I need to do this.”
George studied Zeke’s face for a full twenty seconds, getting wet himself before he climbed into the Corvette and drove slowly down the road, leaving Zeke with a choice. He could yell at God, curse at himself, cry like a baby, or suck it up, man up, and plug up every ugly feeling. That was what he usually did, what he always did. But with the rain pelting him, he couldn’t find the air to suck up anything. “Why?” The single word scraped over his lips. The rain was falling harder now, bouncing off earth so dry it was rock hard.
Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap.
With the drops washing his face, Zeke became a child again, a lost child, a frightened child like Max dreaming about snakes. That fear was real and legitimate, but so was the majesty of a geode. Somehow fear and beauty coexisted in the complexity of the earth, sky, and stars. And so did shame and grace in the ceaseless throb of the human heart.
Zeke shed his coat, took off his tie, and let the water soak through his shirt to his skin. “I give up, Lord. Take Caliente Springs. Take—”
Everything.
But he couldn’t spit out that final word. Everything included Julia. They loved each other enough to survive anything. Zeke believed that. But if he lost his job, Hunter would lord his money and career over them. Hunter—the jerk who destroyed Zeke’s career. The fool who took his own son to snake country. The manipulator who pulled Julia’s strings as if she were a puppet required to dance for him. How did Zeke protect the woman he loved if he couldn’t even put bread on the table?
Tap . . . Tap . . . Tap.
“Lord,” he prayed, “we’re not done yet, are we?”
Soaking wet, Zeke drew in lungfuls of the heavy air. His battle with God still wasn’t over, but nothing else would happen today. Chill bumps erupted on his skin, and he realized just how cold and wet he was. He thought of calling George, but his phone was sitting in his own SUV.
Flinging his soggy coat over his shoulder, he took a final look around his personal Calvary, then headed to the dirt road, stomping in a big puddle just because it was there. As he rounded the bend, he saw George’s Corvette idling in the rain, the taillights bright in the gloom, waiting for him. Grinning, Zeke broke into a jog.
thirty
At six o’clock on Friday evening, the wedding party gathered at the lookout for the rehearsal. George and Ginger were present, along with Derek’s parents. Tiff and Derek’s minister, an older man and the veteran of a hundred weddings, took charge. There wasn’t much for Julia to do, so she wandered to the edge of the canyon and peered at the valley below. Thanks to the rain, the grass was neon green. With temperatures in the high seventies, tomorrow promised to be as perfect as today.
Tiff was going to have the wedding of her dreams. Maybe someday Julia would too, but Zeke had been strangely quiet since Wednesday. He hadn’t mentioned the future at all, and she wondered if the rumors were getting to him—or worse, if they were true and he knew something he didn’t want to share with her. They were both in limbo, waiting and facing circumstances bigger than they were.
Like Hunter. Earlier today, when she met him to hand over Max, she had barely managed to let go of her son’s hand out of fear of what Hunter might say or do.
Tiff’s laughter drifted to Julia’s ears, and she turned back to the rehearsal, listening as the minister told Tiff and Derek what to expect. Love for his bride lit Derek’s eyes, and Julia was sure Tiff’s expression was just as bright.
The minister’s voice rose above the happy chatter. “Tomorrow, this is when I’ll say, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’ I don’t think you two need any practice, but—”
“I think we do,” Derek announced.
Tiff flung herself into his arms. He kissed her thoroughly, picking her up and spinning her around and around. Julia watched with tears stinging her eyes.
The rehearsal ended with a round of hugs, and the troop returned to their rooms to dress for dinner.
An hour later, Julia arrived at the Travers mansion. The same little black dress she’d worn the night she told Zeke she loved him swished around her legs, but she wouldn’t see him tonight. Instead she would have to watch Hunter with Max while she smoothed out any wrinkles with the dinner.
She walked around to the backyard to check the patio and caught her breath at the sight of two round tables with crisp linens and centerpieces dripping with orchids. Thousands of tiny lights glistened in the trees and overhead arbor, and night-blooming jasmine scented the air.
Someday she wanted a night like this with Zeke. No, she corrected herself. Not someday. She wanted that night now. But she knew Zeke. He wouldn’t propose marriage unless he had a good job. And what would they do if a job offer took him away from California? Julia felt obligated to stay within driving distance of Hunter. As he was so quick to remind her, he had rights.
After a final inspection of the tables, she headed to the kitchen. She greeted the catering staff, verified serving times with the woman in charge, then checked on Max’s meal. When she lifted the plastic cover, she was delighted to see bites of fruit arranged in the shape of a dinosaur, chicken tenders, plain green beans, and macaroni and cheese. Perfect. Exactly the kind of food Max liked.
Guests would be arriving soon, so she headed for the front door. As she crossed the living room, Ginger emerged from the hallway. Dressed in a beaded gold gown with her platinum hair sprayed to perfection, she glowed with her old star quality. George, dapper in a black suit, followed her into the room and left to pick up Ellen. Julia stationed herself at the front door to play hostess.
The wedding party arrived all at once. Jessica, the production assistant for Flops & Fortunes, snapped dozens of pictures and tweeted on the fly. The arrival was full of joking, nervous laughter, and back-slapping for the guys.
The doorbell rang again. When she opened the door, Maury greeted her with a warm handshake. “You’re as lovely as ever, Julia.”
“Thank y
ou.”
They shared a quiet moment that honored the past without bringing it back to life.
She turned back to the door just as Hunter’s Lexus cruised into the driveway. She tensed, but her irritation was tempered by the sweet anticipation of seeing Max in the suit she had bought for him. It was a little big, but he looked adorable in the plaid bow tie.
Hunter climbed out first, tugged on his cuffs the way he always did, then lifted Max out of the booster seat. His back blocked her view, but she saw him comb Max’s hair first, then his own.
As they walked toward the house, Julia raised her arm to wave, but when she saw Max, she froze. Instead of the cute gray suit and plaid bow tie, he wore a black suit almost identical to Hunter’s, tailored to his small frame and accented with a burgundy tie that also matched Hunter’s. Even their shoes were the same. Instead of his favorite cowboy boots, Max was wearing little black wingtips.
Hunter’s mini-me.
Julia managed to smile and wave, but the evening air took on a chill.
“This is wonderful,” Ellen said to Susan Wilkins, Derek’s mom. They were seated across from each other at the family table. A waiter was removing salad plates, and Ellen was enjoying the food, lively table talk, and having George at her side. The bridal party was seated at the second table. Tiff glowed the way a bride should, Derek looked both nervous and proud, and the air was full of joking, flirting, and just a hint of longing on the faces of the two bridesmaids who were single.
Ellen loved weddings, but this one sent pangs straight to her heart. As happy as she was for Tiff and Derek, she had lived through the years of Hunter’s delays and Julia’s disappointment. She was very grateful they hadn’t married, but it irked her now to be seated with him. The only bright spot was Max fidgeting between them.
George gave her hand a squeeze. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do?”
“You’re planning a day like this for . . .” He waggled his brows at her.
“Don’t you dare say us,” she teased back as she withdrew her hand. “I expect some serious romance before we take that step.”
“And you’ll get it, darlin’. Plenty of it. But for the record, I was going to say Julia and Zeke.”
Ellen reached for his hand a second time. They held tight until a waiter brought them both filet mignon. A second waiter delivered lobster tails to Hunter and a children’s plate to Max.
When Max saw the dinosaur made of fruit, he scrambled up to his knees. “It’s a T-rex. That’s my favorite.”
He started to take a strawberry with his fingers, but Hunter stopped him. “We need to wait, son.”
As much as Ellen disliked Hunter, sometimes he set a good example. Tonight seemed to be one of those times, so she relaxed.
While the waiter finished serving, George checked his phone. It wasn’t like him at all, so she whispered, “Is everything all right?”
“It’s better than all right.” She waited for more, but he only shrugged. “Zeke answered a text. That’s all.”
“I wish he were here.”
“He will be, but not until later.” George met Maury’s gaze and nodded.
“Something is going on,” she said.
“Yep.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see.” For a man who bared his soul in his music, he could be a brick wall when he didn’t want to talk.
Ellen huffed. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Do you know how frustrating you can be?”
“Yep.” But then he winked her. “Get used to it, darlin’. I want a lot of years with you, and I’m not going to change. That’s the bad news. The good news is that I don’t want you to change either.”
But change would come. A year from now, when Max was in school and Julia didn’t need her so much, maybe Ellen would sell the house and move to San Luis Obispo. In the meantime, George was free to travel to Los Angeles whenever he wanted, and Ellen planned to sell the flower shop. It had been a placeholder in her life, something to fill the hours without Ben. She was done with it now.
Feeling wistful, she took in the tall orchids with a professional eye, then turned her attention to the meal and conversation. Derek’s parents were gracious hosts, and Maury told jokes like Jay Leno. Ginger, poised as always, told Max how handsome he looked in his suit. He said thank you, then scooped up another bite of his macaroni and cheese.
Hunter signaled the waiter and asked for another champagne cocktail. In less than a minute, the waiter placed a crystal flute in front of him. A sugar cube fizzed at the bottom, and a twist of orange curled around the bubbles.
When Max saw it, his eyes popped. “Can I have one?”
Hunter shook his head. “Sorry, son. This kind of drink is for grown-ups.”
Ellen let out the breath she was holding, but then Max scooted up on his knees.
“Please, Daddy? I want to try it.”
Maybe she was too conservative, but Ellen saw no reason for a four-year-old to sample a cocktail. She fully expected Hunter to say no.
Instead he gave Max a wink. “All right. But just a sip.”
Ellen opened her mouth to protest, but Hunter was already holding the flute to Max’s lips. Instead of a sip, Max took a gulp. Hunter laughed, but Ellen saw no humor in the situation at all. Maybe she was crazy to worry. She’d grown up in an alcohol-free home and didn’t know what other people considered normal.
Needing help, she put her hand on George’s knee. He squeezed her fingers tight as if to say, You’re right. This isn’t a good idea.
She braced herself to step in, but Hunter set the glass down. “That’s all.”
“I want some more,” Max insisted. “Please, Daddy! Pleeeeease.”
Ellen laid a firm hand on her grandson’s shoulder. “No, Max. Champagne is for grown-ups.”
Instead of settling down, Max flung back his shoulders and gave her a snotty look. She arched her brows at him, her expression a warning Max knew well and usually respected. But not tonight. With his little nose in the air, he turned back to Hunter. “Please, Daddy. I like your drink the best.”
Ellen seethed inside. Not at Max, but at Hunter, who was beaming a proud smile as if to say, Isn’t he cute? No. He wasn’t. He was being a brat. Max needed to be corrected even if it meant taking him to another room.
He pushed up higher on his knees. “Daddy? Could I please have some more?”
Chuckling, Hunter raised the glass to his son’s lips. “Oh, all right.”
Ellen broke in. “I don’t think—” The second gulp was over before she finished, so she sealed her lips.
“Hey, Hunter,” George said in the rumble he used on stage, “take it from a pro. That stuff is going to hit the boy harder than you know. If not tonight, twenty years from now.”
“He’s fine,” Hunter said. “Aren’t you, Max?”
“Yeah!”
Hunter picked up the glass and drained it himself, thus solving the problem or making a point. Ellen wasn’t sure which.
Still on his knees, Max bounced up and down like a little jackhammer. His gaze landed on Hunter’s plate and the remains of the red lobster shell. A few bites of the white meat still remained. Max wrinkled his nose. “Eeeeew. That’s gross!”
“Gross?” Hunter laughed again. “No way. Lobster is Daddy’s favorite food. You should try it.”
“Yuck!” Max’s voice rang across the entire patio.
A couple bridesmaids, including the one with Flops & Fortunes, nudged each other and whispered something. Ginger smiled benignly while Maury watched with a frown. Derek’s parents traded a look of concern mixed with irritation. George pushed back in his chair, watching and waiting for Hunter’s next move.
Ellen was on the verge of getting Julia when Hunter stabbed a bite of lobster with his fork, swirled it in the melted butter and held it in front of Max. “Here. Try it.”
Max covered his mouth with both hands and shook his
head.
“Come on, son.” Hunter moved the fork to within an inch of Max’s lips. “Be a big boy and try it.”
With his hands firmly in place, Max stared cross-eyed at the dripping shellfish. Ellen knew this child. He loved his daddy and wanted to please him. But he had also consumed two chicken tenders, watermelon, a giant strawberry, most of the macaroni and cheese, a glass of milk, and those two gulps of champagne. Forcing lobster on him was both cruel and unwise.
She pushed out of her chair, dropped her napkin on the seat, and spoke to George. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to find Julia.”
The rehearsal dinner was in full swing when Zeke stepped through the sliding glass door leading to the patio. He intended to signal George that he was here then slip inside to wait in the den. George’s text had been cryptic, to say the least. Need to meet w/ you tonite. Come to the house around 10. Not knowing what to expect, Zeke had dressed for a business meeting, a formal dinner, or a funeral for his career. The timing was peculiar, but Maury was returning to LA on Sunday and the wedding was tomorrow.
Leaving the slider ajar, he raised an arm to wave at George, but Ellen, striding toward him, blocked the view.
She halted in front of him, her face tight and unsmiling. “Have you seen Julia?”
“No. I just got here.”
A waiter holding a white towel and a water pitcher passed in front of them. “Miss Julia’s in the powder room.”
Ellen let out a groan.
“What’s wrong?” Zeke asked.
“Hunter.” Grimacing, she hurried past him and into the house.
Zeke stepped onto the patio but stayed in the shadows. Tiff and Derek were snuggled together and posing for pictures. Jessica from Flops & Fortunes snapped one with her phone, then turned and saw something that made her brows shoot up.
He followed her gaze to the family table and the back of Max’s head. He was shaking it hard and covering his mouth with both hands. Next to him was Ellen’s empty seat, her chair askew as if she had launched out of it. George too was focused on Hunter. Next to him were Derek’s parents, both frowning, then Ginger, disdain radiating from her ramrod posture. Maury leaned toward Hunter and said something, but Hunter shook his head and raised his hand a little higher, giving Zeke a glimpse of a bite of lobster shining with drawn butter.
Someone Like You Page 27