He, Belinda and the judge went way back. As Dodo’s long-time neighbor, the judge had taken an interest in them since they were kids. Lucky for Jon. Judge Dougherty had given him probation instead of clapping him in juvee where he’d undoubtedly belonged at the time. The judge should probably bow out where they were concerned, but, if they could agree on nothing else, he and Belinda agreed on one thing. They trusted the judge and would rather wash their linen in front of him than anyone else.
“How’s she going to prove she stays clean?
Jon scooped up some M&Ms. “Pee in a cup. She’s thrilled.”
“But she’ll do it?”
“Better than jail; cops could have thrown her in there for DUI.” They’d hushed up more than one offense in the past. “Plus custody reverts to joint after eight months. She doesn’t want the kids, though, as much as she wants the money that goes with them.”
Dodo had phoned him just over a month ago to tell him Belinda and the kids had been in a car wreck. Once she’d assured him the kids were fine, Belinda’s mother had fallen silent, probably at war with herself over love for her grandchildren and the natural desire to protect her daughter. He’d finally gotten the whole story. Belinda had zoned out at sixty miles an hour on the winding highway that led to her mother’s, drove over the middle line, narrowly avoided making mincemeat of an oncoming car and ended up in a ditch. The cops knew she was high but couldn’t prove it. Thank God, the kids were strapped into the tiny backseat. Nobody was hurt.
He’d seethed with frustration. There were so many demands on his time. But this involved his kids. Since he’d already planned to take them during the tour’s pause at Lake Kesibwi, it was a simple matter to give in to Dodo’s apologetic pleas to take them for Belinda’s eight-month “sentence,” although he’d wondered why Dodo was so uncharacteristically insistent. She usually asked nothing of him, already flustered at the amount of money he showered on her even though he’d assured her it was no more than he’d do for his own mother. If he still had her.
When he’d seen Dodo, though, he’d quit wondering.
“Dodo’s not looking too good. She’s aged a lot.” Jon tipped more candy into his mouth. Thinking of Dodo, the stuff had all the flavor of sawdust. “I’m worried about her. I gave her money to go visit her sister. She said she’d be back, but I don’t know if she will. And I don’t know what I’m going to do with the kids if she doesn’t come back—or can’t care for them.”
Weary lines had dug furrows around Dodo’s mouth, and more gray than brown washed her hair. She’d watched Belinda with the alertness of a stray cat wary of a swift kick. The last few years had taken their toll. He didn’t know how much more he could ask from her.
As a kid he had been smitten with Belinda, but he’d loved her mother without reservation. A widow, she’d always had time, a hot meal and refuge for the scroungy kid Belinda dragged into the house. Since a rebellious Belinda rebuffed her mother at every turn, Dodo turned to him, lavishing him with maternal affection, and he’d soaked it up. After his first successes, he’d assumed Dodo’s mortgage and footed her household bills, knowing he could never really pay her back. Belinda had called him Mama’s Boy. She never had liked it when he’d paid attention (or money) to anything or anyone, else.
Not only Dodo had changed, his kids had changed. His reunion with them had been strained beyond the situation. Ten-year-old Melanie, the baby-round face he remembered now thinned into prettiness, stared warily at him from beneath too-long, brown bangs, and Michael, all thin limbs and round, almond eyes glittering from under a mop of bowl-cut, dark hair, didn’t stand still long enough for a hug. Their clothes looked like they came from the Swap ‘n Shop. He hadn’t expected hearts and flowers after a two-year absence, but Mel’s apathy and Michael’s manic behavior sounded an alarm. Just what in the hell was going on?
Zeke said mildly, “Keep the kids. I’ll help out—we’d do okay.”
“I thought of that, but it just doesn’t play. I’m willing to fight for them—even Peter’s for it—he thinks me as a family man would be a great hook for Van Castle’s image after the battering it’s taken.”
But he didn’t live a life fit for a child. In just over a month, Van Castle would leave for Canada, then Europe. Peter had scheduled charity events, a TV special in London, store appearances, radio shows. It would be a zoo. Even afterwards, their schedule was packed.
“It’s bad enough I have to shunt them off to Nashville when we leave for Canada but permanently pushing them onto someone like that nanny, or worse, boarding schools, isn’t any solution. Hell, my life didn’t do Belinda any favors. Think she would have hoed the same crooked row if she’d had a nine-to-five husband? Eight months of me will be plenty enough for the kids. Longer term, I could really mess them up. Truth is, they’re better off with Belinda—a sober Belinda—than with me. As long as they have Dodo.”
Zeke zeroed in on his rhetorical question. “Actually, I do think Belinda would have gone the same route no matter who she’d hooked up with, my man, but we’ve been over that ground before and you don’t listen.”
Because it wasn’t true. Belinda had once been free-spirited and wild. Now, she was grasping and bitter. Life had changed her. He had changed her.
Jon shifted. “Doesn’t matter. Think about it. We can’t keep them.”
“Not to mention a fight for custody would mean dragging the band through the muck again.” Zeke’s voice was dry.
Jon fell silent.
During his divorce from Belinda, she’d squawked half-truths and outrageous lies for every tabloid reporter who’d listen—and most did. Knowing she lashed out from hurt and feeling each blow deserved, he’d weathered the punishment in silence, even though some of the lies got pretty bizarre and even though Peter had badgered him to tell his side of the story. Unwilling to drag Belinda down further, unable to pit his children between their parents, he’d refused. His silence almost cost him his rights to his children—and his career. Fortunately, Belinda had realized she was killing her golden goose, and she’d finally shut up. But not before a lot of damage was done.
For the last two years, he, Zeke, Three-Ring and Peter had worked to mop up his image. He’d submitted to boring publicity dates with up-and-coming country queens whose trilling remarks about his good character were planted in the idol mags, bowed to serious interviews with journalists ranging from Country Dreaming to Time, held court on late-night talk shows and shelled out a lot of money to charitable causes, most notably and ironically, one to do with child exploitation.
He popped a few more M&Ms. “You know the publicity a custody battle’d bring is the last thing we need right now. The press and public still love Belinda and she would play them for all they’re worth. We can’t take another hit like the last one—not this soon. Besides, the kids don’t need me. What they need is a different mother.”
Zeke smiled wryly. “Kind of hard to pick those off the shelf, my man—especially since you haven’t even been on more than a promotional date in three years. Perhaps you should try your hand with China Blue Eyes. God knows you have a jones on over that song.”
Not just over the song. He’d never forget how those blue eyes had blinked at him in total lack of recognition. Thinking about it now, he realized he’d felt a strange relief.
Before the muse struck him again, Jon stood up. “I don’t have time for dating. I’m going to crash.”
No, he didn’t have the time, but he sure did have some kind of inclination where that bookstore lady was concerned.
CHAPTER FOUR
ON TUESDAY AFTERNOON, the day after she’d met Jonathan Van Castle, Lil was still peeved. He’d had the nerve to appear in a dream she’d had last night. Standing up from the carton she was packing, she stretched against the noodle of pain in her back. She looked around Merry-Go-Read with mingled sadness and satisfaction. Only a few more hours work and the store would be ready for the final sale that would close its doors.
She and Mari had w
orked all day, and in the last hour, Mari had finally stopped trying to tease more information from her on the whereabouts of Jonathan Van Castle.
Now her sister emerged from the back room, flipping the tab on a soda she’d retrieved from the mini-fridge. She took a gulp, burped, then set the can on the counter. “So, you gonna go?”
Pretending ignorance, Lil leaned over and scooped a pile of books into the open carton. “Go where? Ouch.” Her ring had caught on the lid. Sucking on her knuckle, Lil pulled it off, along with her watch, and walked them to the counter.
“To the lake, that’s where.” Mari slapped a label on a box. “Don’t try to change the subject. Mom’s gathering the clan for a big powwow over What To Do About Patsy Lee and you know it. And while she’s not saying so, I’m sure she plans to settle your future, too. Besides, the family always goes. Or at least a few of us still do, even if some members have chickened out the last three years.”
Lil stilled and Mari back-peddled. “Sorry, chickened out wasn’t the right phrase. I know you don’t want to go because of Robbie, but, dammit, Lil—I mean, darn it—it’s been three years. And Patsy Lee is going even though we just lost Henry. Besides, when you don’t go, it’s a bore because Hock and Stan just babble on about how much better their place is on Shawnee Bay—where they’re staying this time, thank God—and what merger made their stock split umpteen ways to Sunday.”
She grinned at Lil, as though encouraging her to join in on trashing their oldest sister and her husband, Stan, a pastime they’d sometimes shared, But Lil only said, “Don’t call Alcea Hock. She doesn’t like it.” The rebuke was automatic. At the ripe age of five, Mari had discovered Alcea was the formal name for the hollyhock flower, and she’d gleefully christened the sister eleven years her senior.
“Do you know where Alcea is, by the way?” Lil asked. “She said she’d give me a ride home—the Escort’s in the shop again. I’m tired. We can finish this in the morning.”
“I forgot. Hock called because she can’t make it. Actually she called Mom, but Mom and Pop are helping out at church camp this week, so Mom called me. Alcea said she couldn’t reach you—like she tried—and then, naturally, left Mom figuring out how to get you home. Hock’s such a jerk. She had to pick up precious Kathleen from a fifth grade something, then deliver one of her oh-so-famous cakes to her Rich-People-Pretend-To-Help-The-Poor Meeting, and—Hey, Patsy Lee told me Stan’s banging his secretary.”
“Hush. Ho—I mean, Alcea—is not a jerk and Patsy Lee didn’t say any such thing. You shouldn’t spread rumors about your brother-in-law.”
Mari looked smug. “Maybe she didn’t say it in exactly those words, but she told me Stan’s always got ‘business meetings’ with that bimbo behind closed doors, and she comes out with her eyeballs rattled. And Patsy Lee would know, wouldn’t she? Since her desk is right next to Stan’s office.” Stan was the bank president; Patsy Lee was his assistant’s assistant. “Wonder if Hock knows about his latest.”
“Whatever problems Stan and Alcea have, they’re none of our business. Alcea tries, Mari. She’s just not very self-confident, that’s all. She’s…” Lil stopped, tired of Mari’s gossip and weary of trying to defend her oldest sister when she didn’t understand herself why Alcea had married, let alone stayed with, the philandering Stan.
“Poop. You used to be more fun.” Mari abandoned the box she was packing. “Anyway, instead of walking over, I brought my trusty steed to do the queen’s bidding and rescue the damsel in distress.” Mari lived with their folks around the corner on Maple Woods Drive, while Lil lived nearer the town’s outskirts.
Mari motioned to the street where her battered VW slumped by the curb looking anything but trustworthy. “Couldn’t have you walking home. You’d melt into a mere puddle on Main Street, then we’d have to hold a wake, and I’d have to eat more of Helen Tidwell’s Tuna Casserole Surprise, which positively makes me barf.”
Lil frowned.
Mari managed to look contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—oh, forget it.” She grabbed the soda and took another swig. “So, are you going?”
Lil blinked. Mari changed subjects faster than a remote changed channels.
“To the lake, dummy! You’ve got to go. This year will be worse than usual. With Henry gone, everyone’ll mope around.”
As Mari continued arguing, Lil moved to the window and pushed aside the faded curtains. Across the street, St. Andrew’s huddled as though looking for shade.
She and Robbie had played at the lake as children, frolicked on tire tubes in the water and roasted marshmallows in the barbecue ring Pop had built out back. As newlyweds, fumbling and giggling, they’d made love for the first time on the sleeping porch while stars blinked across a black velvet sky. They’d returned there for vacations each of the seven summers they were married.
She didn’t want to go back there, not to discuss Patsy Lee’s future, not to discuss her own, not even for old time’s sake. Especially not for that. “I’m sorry, Mari, but—”
“Come on. When we aren’t powwowing, Mom’ll piddle with her flowers while Pop reads. Hock and Stan will brag. And all Patsy Lee will talk about is the new baby.”
Lil’s hand dropped. “What do you mean,” she said slowly. “What new baby?”
Mari looked like she’d rather be anyplace else. “Mom didn’t tell you? Dammit—I mean, darn it—she said she was going to tell you!”
“What new baby, Mari?” Lil whispered.
“Patsy Lee is pregnant.”
Lil’s sat down hard. Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, she stared at her hands.
“Oh, Lil. I thought you knew! She’s four months along and said it must have happened right before…right before Henry died.” Mari rushed over and knelt next to her. “Please don’t look like that. Say something.”
Lil didn’t reply. She noted her ring finger narrowed just before the knuckle, right where her wedding band normally rested. Now she understood how Patsy Lee stayed so strong.
Mari stood up, hands on hips. “Don’t you do this!”
Lil looked up. “Do what?”
Mari stamped her foot, her expression equal parts sadness, entreaty—and anger. “I can’t stand to see you like this anymore!”
Lil smiled weakly and dropped her gaze to the old dress she’d thrown on this morning. Like the one she’d worn yesterday, she’d found it in a box her mother had put out for a church rummage sale. “I didn’t think I looked that bad.”
“Although your clothes could certainly use some work, you know I’m not talking about that!” Mari paced, dragging her hand through her hair until it stood up in kinked horns. “You go through your days like some kind of damn robot. Up at dawn, tend your garden, work at this nothing job, home to teach piano to airheads like Joey Beadlesworth who thinks Mozart is the name of a car, for God’s sake. You’re not living, you’re only existing. You’re half the person you used to be. You used to joke, used to laugh, and now you hardly ever smile. I mean, dammit, Lil, it’s like you died, too. Ever since Robbie…” She ignored Lil’s cringe and plunged on. “Ever since Robbie died, ever since you lost your baby, you’ve been—”
Lil blanched. “Mari —” It was rare for anyone to talk to her about Robbie, and a tacit agreement had grown to never mention the unborn child she’d lost the same day he died.
“No! I won’t stop. You listen. Everybody’s pussy-footed around you, like they’re afraid you’ll break. It’s been three years, Lil. Three! And you’ve been gone. Oh, you nod your head and talk, but you’re not really there. You’re closed off somewhere inside, and we can’t find you. I can’t find you. And Lil, I need you! We all need you. Especially now that Henry’s gone.”
Mari paused at the counter, then whirled around. “But if you’re too selfish you can’t understand what you’re doing to us, then go ahead and think about yourself. But really think. Patsy Lee told me you’re both planning to work at PicNic. I can understand why she would. She’s got no education, and three
kids, almost four now. But you? Why? You’re only thirty! You could do anything. You could go back to school and finish your degree or switch majors to music or move somewhere and start all over. Maybe you’d even meet someone and fall in love and— You could still have kids. Oh, I know you can’t have your own, but you could always adopt instead of forever pretending Patsy Lee’s or Hock’s are yours.”
Lil’s eyes burned. “That’s not fair—”
“So what? Life isn’t fair for anybody, so what makes you special? You can mope around, or you can do something about it. Think of the possibilities, Lil! I can tell you I’m not wasting my life. As soon as I graduate, I’m outta here.” Mari’s rested her elbows on the counter, bottom poked into the air. Her eyes turned dreamy. “I’ll rent an apartment—maybe even in Chicago—anywhere besides this burg. I’ll be a sought-after graphics artist and I’ll go to art shows and concerts and I’ll travel. Eventually I’ll marry some marvelous, sophisticated guy with a pile of money and—Oh, Lil, don’t you see? There’s a whole, big, beautiful world out there!” Mari swept her arms across the counter. Invoices scattered along with Lil’s watch and ring.
Horrified, Lil watched the ring ping against the register, rattle across the wooden floor and disappear into the shadows under a bookshelf.
“God, Lil—I’m sorry.” Mari scuttled around the counter and dropped to all fours beside the shelf. “I would never hurt you in a million years.” She swept a palm under the shelf. “You know I love you. You know I’d never —”
“Stop! I’ll do it.”
Chewing her thumb, Mari sat back. Lil knelt and frantically patted the floor until her fingers wrapped around the ring. Breathing a sigh of relief, she slid it back on her finger, then looked at Mari. Mari’s nose had pinked and her eyes swam.
“Oh, Mari. Come here.” Mari fell into her arms, and Lil hugged her close. Behind Mari’s back, Lil stared at her ring. “I’m not trying to shut you out. It’s just… I loved him so much.” With every ounce of her being, every fiber in her soul, just as he had her. “And I still miss him. Every day.” She tried to straighten the wobble in her voice. “I miss his touch, his glance, his strength and especially his optimism.”
SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One) Page 4