SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One)

by Jerri Corgiat

  “Yes. But Mother…” He noticed when she was puzzled, a cute, tiny line would appear between her eyebrows. “She listened to the whole fantastic tale, then she just hugged me and said…” Her color heightened.

  “What did she say?”

  She picked at the beads on her dress. “That she knew what was up from the way we looked at each other, so it didn’t surprise her a bit. After that, everyone else just followed her lead.”

  He liked Zinnia.

  “Except Mari, of course. I’ve seen Mari angry before, but never like this. She won’t talk to me at all.” Catching her lower lip in her teeth, she looked away.

  He watched her. For the last week plus some, she’d been a real trooper. Although she’d be well paid for her part, this hadn’t been easy. He’d seen enough to know how close she was with her family, and her sister’s reaction must be cutting her to ribbons. He got to his feet and moved toward the sofa.

  She grabbed her shoes and stood up. “I’m going to bed, I’m exhausted.” Those child-wide eyes narrowed. “By the way, where is bed? I didn’t agree to sharing a bedroom.”

  “And I didn’t ask you to,” he retorted. He’d only intended to comfort her, for God’s sake. Feeling foolish, he dug his hands in his pockets. “Roy put your things in Tina’s old room. She’s bunking with Mel. You’re upstairs at the end of the hall.”

  “And, where are you? I mean, in case I need to explain to the children why…”

  “Why mommy and daddy don’t sleep in the same bed? Just tell ‘em I snore. They’ll believe you. I do. With gusto.”

  Lil turned toward the stairs that led to the second floor. She was in such a hurry to get away from him, she apparently forgot about her unwieldy gown. She was five paces underway when the train snagged under the legs of the coffee table and sofa, pulling her up short.

  “Darn it all!” Kneeling, she wrestled with the train, but the stuff snarled around her hands. She gave up and rose, back straight.

  He couldn’t help the twitch that tugged on his mouth. She looked so regally helpless, her long legs twisted in netting, her chin tilted up like a queen and her eyes flashing cool fire. Underneath that rosebud mouth, he figured her teeth were clenched. He pulled out a stick of gum, took his time unwrapping it, then pushed it in his mouth and watched her.

  “Instead of standing there with that goofy grin, do you think you could possibly lend me a hand?”

  He wiped off his smirk, but couldn’t look her in the eye, sure he’d bust out laughing. He lifted the table and the sofa off the train while she stood in frigid silence, then knelt by her feet and tried to unleash the netting that hobbled her. Her struggles had tugged the stuff into mess, and he was afraid he’d rip it. He sat back on his heels and looked up.

  She stared down her nose, graceful brows raised, and he couldn’t resist a sly smile. “You’ll have to take it off.”

  Her eyes widened and peach bloomed on her cheeks. “If you think I’m—”

  “Not the whole dress, dummy. The train.”

  With a grunt of impatience at her skittishness, he rose and grasped her waist just above the swell of her hips, not bothering to hide he enjoyed the soft feel of her under his hands. He purposely leered, snapping his gum, and enjoyed watching those blues shift from royal frost to pale alarm. “You can’t—”

  He winked. “I’m not.”

  She made an exasperated sound, and he swiveled her around. Modest in front, the gown dipped alarmingly in back and her nakedness faced him, a field of sun-kissed, satin skin that hollowed between her shoulder blades and over the pearl strand of her spine.

  The air in the room hummed, suddenly as charged as a pre-concert arena.

  His jaw stilled. He swallowed hard and made himself concentrate on the tiny buttons that hooked the train to the scoop of her dress, traveling from her shoulders to the swell of her bottom. His fingers skimmed the smooth flesh, his breath fluffed the sprinkle of curls that lay on her neck, and her floral scent made it hard to think. She shivered.

  “Cold?” he murmured.

  He wasn’t cold, he was hot. Wild and hot.

  His hands trembled with the urge to yank her around and crush that full mouth under his. He remembered the feel of her under his lips after the judge had pronounced them man and wife, the yielding of her body, the tremulous sigh. His resolve to leave her alone began a slow slide to oblivion.

  He unhooked the last button and the trail dropped. His hands lingered, as if they had a will of their own. With a nearly audible groan, he bent his head, his hair drifting against her back. He aimed for that tender spot where her shoulder slid up to her neck.

  As though guessing his intentions, she sucked in a breath and went rigid. If he gave her a push, she’d keel over like a domino, face down, knees locked. Reconsidering, but not yet ready to yield, he pulled back. When he did, she twitched once, enough to make him drop his hands. Without a glance behind her, she went toward the stairs.

  Her steps, normally light, were wooden. “Thank you. Good night.”

  He thought her voice caught on the words, but she didn’t turn around. He was left standing in the middle of the room like a clown, tongue hanging out, arms dangling loose at his sides. No less than he deserved.

  Muttering a curse, he kicked the train aside, grabbed his Fender and sprawled on the sofa. He had no right to toy with her. He had a genetic predisposition to shatter the heart of anyone who loved him. He wouldn’t let himself fall for her and, with her prissy attitude, she wouldn’t find him any great shakes even if he did.

  He closed his eyes, gave his knuckles a long crack, then fingered his guitar pick. China Blue Eyes. Such a surprise. Gentled and soothed under my hands, your face a disguise… Yuck.

  ***

  Upstairs, Lil locked her door, then leaned back against it. Her blurred gaze traveled the sterile confines she would have to call home for… she didn’t know for how long.

  She pushed herself up and impatiently brushed at her eyes, peeled off her dress and hung it from the closet door, pausing to run her hands down the folds. The glass beads twinkled, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

  In the attached bathroom, someone had laid out her toiletries. Yesterday, she’d gone home to pack up her luggage for delivery to the resort, taken a long look at the contract she and Jon had signed before stuffing it out of sight in the bottom of a kitchen drawer, and had walked slowly through the rooms of her little yellow house, clutching her cat Petunia and wondering when she’d see them both again.

  Thinking of Petunia, her eyes filled again. She missed her purring comfort and hoped Mari’s ire didn’t extend to her pet. Since the resort had a no-pets policy, their mother had coerced her sister into caring for the cat through the rest of the summer. After that, she hoped she could have Petunia with her. Wherever she’d be.

  She brushed her teeth and washed her face, careful not to look at her swollen eyes. Circling the room, she switched off all the lamps, then paused to push the curtains away from the window. Light from the half-moon spilled into the room. A lone boat skimmed across the lake, its lights like fireflies against the dark surface.

  Leaving a gap in the curtains, she crawled between the covers, pulled them up to her chin and turned her face to the soft light.

  Strains from Jon’s guitar and the murmur of his rich voice floated up the stairs and through the crack under her door. She couldn’t understand the words, and the tune wasn’t familiar, but it was pretty— a haunting, mournful ballad, sung in a minor key.

  A serenade for her wedding night.

  She remembered her first wedding night, Robbie’s gentle, tentative explorations and her clumsy responses. Their limbs tangled together. Their giggles. As she drifted toward sleep, those images merged with the soft touch of Jon’s hands as he’d unfastened her train, his breath warming her neck, his hair brushing her back… and the traitorous way her body had quickened.

  Her pillow grew damp with her tears until she wadded it under her cheek and sl
ept.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  OVER THE NEXT nine days, Lil found she didn’t need to fight off tears as much as she needed to stave off boredom. The Van Castle money-making machine had paused briefly for their wedding but then had hummed back to life, leaving her and the children scrambling to find a place in its tempo. Steeled to defend Melanie and Michael from the excesses of their father’s stardom, she’d gradually softened. There weren’t any wild parties. Not a whiff of marijuana smoke, not a pill in sight. No groupies, no flunkies, no bimbos. She almost wished there were. At least it would give her something to do.

  The day she’d spent on the houseboat with Jon and the children seemed part of a distant past. The man she’d glimpsed then was a mirage. He’d disappeared into a workaholic personality and a non-stop schedule. Any thought she’d had they might live with some semblance of normalcy had disappeared in the face of the gait he set—to the detriment of his children.

  That was about to change. On the second Tuesday following her wedding, filled with determination, Lil tiptoed down the stairs in her bathrobe and moved to the windows overlooking Shawnee Bay. She tugged open the drapes. Night still pressed against Kesibwi, but a faint light hailed dawn. A fishing boat puttered through the haze lifting off the lake. Jon should be home soon.

  Van Castle was gearing up for the Missouri State Fair in Sedalia less than two weeks from now. The late August concert was the last event in the US leg of his tour. Over the last week, more of Jon’s people had filtered into the Royal Sun—backup singers, stage crew, road musicians, dancers, all a blur of unfamiliar faces. Roy had explained their roles to her. Heaven knows, Jon hadn’t been around to do so.

  So this morning, she had decided they were going to talk about that—and a few other things.

  Behind her, she heard a rustling in the kitchen. A few moments later, she turned to see Roy, two coffee mugs in hand, brows raised in greeting. Every morning since the day after the wedding when they’d collided in the kitchen at first light, she’d joined Jon’s bodyguard on the deck, where he’d bring her coffee, creamed and sugared just like she liked it, before seating himself in a canvas-backed chair that matched her own. They’d chat till the children rose. She’d learned that, along with sunrises, they shared an enjoyment of classical music and cozy mysteries. While Roy was intensely loyal to Jon, he longed to settle in one place. The burly, bald bodyguard had a poetic soul.

  They exchanged murmured good mornings and he handed off a coffee, but when he opened the door to the deck for her, she shook her head. “You watch without me this morning. I need to catch Jon before he goes upstairs.”

  Roy’s bushy eyebrows rose higher, but he said nothing and moved outdoors, sliding the door shut behind him. She set her mug on the table.

  As soon as the sun met the horizon, Jon would arrive, probably with Zeke. Jon would immediately stumble up the stairs following a mumbled hello, but Zeke often joined her and Roy with a cup of tea. He’d entertain them with a humorous rundown on the night’s rehearsal before heading off to one of the band’s cabanas.

  As though Zeke’s departure was his cue, Michael would then appear. And she’d face another expanse of hours trying to keep him entertained while she simultaneously labored to entice Melanie out of her books.

  They couldn’t go on this way forever. She couldn’t go on this way. Pacing, she tugged the sash on her robe tight and paused to switch on a CD, volume turned low. Vivaldi soothed her.

  She appreciated Roy’s easy companionship, Zeke’s dry humor and the children’s company, but it wasn’t enough. Jon had packed Tina back to wherever she came from, and the O’Malleys had returned to their lives in Cordelia. At least six times in the past nine days, she’d called her mother. But Zinnia was busy and couldn’t indulge in the kind of conversations Lil longed for. Instead, she only received a hurried account of her family’s news. Waiting for her baby’s birth in early January, Patsy Lee still clerked at the bank. Surprisingly, the building housing Merry-Go-Read had sold, so that was one less debt her sister-in-law had to bear. Alcea had flung herself into organizing the fall PTA events, and Mari was preparing to return to school. She’d call her mother more often, except the conversations left her battling a hollow feeling of homesickness.

  She rarely saw Jon. Mostly she felt he never gave her and the children a thought, but sometimes she suspected he was intentionally avoiding her. He sidestepped attempts at conversation, and if she happened to brush up against him, he jumped like a rabbit. But most of the time, unless playacting at marriage was called for, he acted like she wasn’t there.

  She heard the front door click open, then closed. In a moment, Jon rounded the fireplace, alone. Zeke must have gone directly to his own bed. Head down, Jon didn’t notice her.

  “We need to talk.” She intercepted him near the stairs.

  Jon’s head shot up. Tired lines webbed around his eyes. He looked longingly at the staircase, but stopped. “Something wrong?”

  “Everything’s wrong.”

  He paused, dragged a hand over the stubble on his face. “It can’t wait?”

  “No.” The guarded expression in his eyes along with the weary bent to his shoulders almost persuaded her to just let him go to bed. But then she thought of Michael and Melanie, and her resolve stiffened. Whether he liked it or not, he’d “hired” her to look after his children’s best interests, and that’s what she intended to do.

  She locked a hand on his arm and steered him into the room, stopping in front of the fireplace. When she turned to face him, their gazes met. For a moment, a current drifted between them, then his brow tightened. He gently pulled away and scooped up a handful of M&Ms from the coffee table. He didn’t eat them, though, he just studied them laying on his palm. She frowned. Was her touch that distasteful?

  He finally looked at her. “So, what is it?”

  “The children are bored silly.” She latched her arms together again. “Roy brings us books and games and movies, but Michael has the attention of a bird, and there’s only so much I can do with Walt Disney and Junior Monopoly.”

  Jon let the candy slide from his fingers back into the bowl. “How could they be bored? There’s ice skating, go-karts, a theater, a bowling alley—”

  “And you don’t let us go to any of them unless the crowds are thin and Roy is with us. Those two circumstances don’t often come up. Of course, how would you know? You’re never here to see it. Or them.”

  “That’s not fair.” His voice was quiet. “I’m knee deep in rehearsals every night. Peter co-opted the resort’s roller rink for us to use, but we have to use it at night. I’m paying a wad for the privilege, too.”

  “You could be home evenings if you’d use one of the public rooms during the day like normal people would.”

  “That’s the point, Lil.” He pulled one of his ever-present Tootsie Roll Pops out, but didn’t look at her. “I keep telling you, we’re not normal. We use the rink at night to keep the curious to a minimum. As for my rules about your activities, you’ve got to remember that as far as the media and my fans are concerned, Michael and Melanie aren’t children, they’re prey.”

  Apparently feeling the conversation was done, he stuck the pop in his mouth and turned toward the stairs. She hurried after him, stopping him with a touch. He flinched. When he turned around, his expression was blank. Oh, for Pete’s sake, she wasn’t a leper.

  She tried to tamp down her irritation. “Since the wedding, I’ve seen only one photographer. That greasy-haired fellow with a wart on his nose. From the looks of him, he’s no match for Roy, so I don’t see why we need to be so cautious.” She bit her tongue before she told him his fame loomed larger in his own mind than it did in reality.

  “They’re like roaches. If you see one, you know more are around.” He crunched on the candy, pitched the stick toward the table.

  Lil frowned at the stick and wrapper. With a sigh, Jon walked around the sofa. He scooped up the trash, stuck it in his pocket and flopped down, app
arently deciding the conversation would end when she wanted it to end.

  Laying his head back, his eyes fluttered closed. “What about horseback riding?”

  “I can’t coax Roy onto one. He’s scared of them.”

  He smiled. She perched on the chair across from him, knotting her hands in her lap. His hair fanned over the cushions. His face was vividly handsome in repose.

  “Mmm. Tennis lessons?”

  “We tried that. The instructor banned us after Michael fired a ball right at his crotch.”

  His eyes opened halfway, and this time she smiled back. She had to admit, it had been funny. “The tennis coach is odious, a big-muscled blond. He flirted with me. Michael didn’t like him.”

  “Good for Michael.” Jon’s eyes drifted closed again, mouth still curved. “Swimming?”

  “We go every afternoon. If we’re lucky, a few of the crew might be there, but since they’re up all night, nobody has the energy to play with them. So, Melanie sticks her nose in a book, and that leaves Michael with me. He’s tired of me. He wants you.”

  Jon made a face. It reminded her of Michael when he’d done something wrong. “I see them at dinner, and sometimes breakfast, don’t I? By the way, I like those pancakes you make. The ones shaped like bunny rabbits with raisins for eyes.”

  Even though she felt a silly thrill that he noticed the efforts she made, she wouldn’t let him change the subject. “You see them long enough to bolt your food and ruffle their hair, that’s all. We also need to talk about what happens when you leave at the end of the month. You’ll be gone until Christmas, and I don’t want to follow you around. School will start soon. We have to consider—”

  “God, I’m tired.” Jon opened his eyes and stood up in one fluid movement. He stretched. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow.”

  Exasperated, she looked up. “It is tomorrow.”

  He stared at her. The dawn starting to lighten the room turned his eyes to fine brandy. “You just won’t let go, will you?”

  “No.”