She still had some questions, but he looked so tired, she let him change the subject. Considering that… something…she’d just felt, it was for the best anyway. “Probably. Melanie was reading.” She smiled. “And it takes more than lights out to get Michael to sleep.”
“Guess I’ll go say good-night before I have to head out.” He twisted to look at her. “By the way, what was with that present you gave me for Michael yesterday? If I’d been you, I would have hung me out to dry.”
“I let my temper get the better of me. I hurt the children and worried you. The present was an apology.”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to apologize. For anything. You were right. I’ve been an ass. From now on, I’m a better dad. When I win custody it should be because I deserve them, not because of any tricks.”
She still felt skeptical but hope blossomed anyway.
Watching her, his face grew grave. “Don’t believe in me too much, Lil. I’ll try, but my track record isn’t anything to write home about.”
She started to protest, but he interrupted. “You do owe me an apology for one thing.”
She was puzzled. “What?”
“The present. Boxing gloves?”
She smiled. “I know he’ll likely knock the house down around us, but I knew he’d love them.” Her smile widened. “And maybe he’ll loan them to you.”
“To me?”
“To use on Belinda.”
They stared at each other a moment, then laughed, leaning against each other’s shoulders. She relaxed, simply enjoying the warmth of the moment, then stiffened when she realized that same something was growing again.
Apparently noticing her tense, Jon pushed himself up. “Back in a moment.”
That fleeting awareness dissipated, and she could once again tell herself she’d only imagined it. She watched him head upstairs. A door clicked. She heard Michael’s giggle, Jon’s low voice. She’d likely have to spend another half hour calming Michael to sleep, but she didn’t mind.
Almost as soon as Jon returned, Zeke arrived. While he waited on the outside step, Lil helped Jon collect his notes and Fender and followed him to the door.
As she handed everything over, she murmured, “Jon? It’s not your fault Belinda turned into the person she is. We all have choices, and she made hers all on her own.” As she’d sat waiting for him to come back downstairs, she’d rehearsed this little speech, hoping it might sway him to look at things in a different light. But he didn’t look convinced, he looked skeptical. Exasperated, she surprised them both by gathering him, guitar and all, into a fierce, tight hug. Before he could react, she stepped back, blushing wildly. “Now go. Go play with your friends.”
***
Friday and through the weekend, the cabana moved to a different rhythm. When he got home after rehearsals, Jon joined her, Roy, and Zeke on the deck to watch the sunrise, then turned breakfast into an occasion, clowning in the kitchen. On Saturday, he even surprised them all with his ability to flip pancakes two feet off the stove (only three splattered on the floor, much to Michael’s delight). He’d head to bed soon after those mornings, and they wouldn’t see him again until evening, but Lil noticed on Friday and Saturday he called a halt to business an hour earlier than usual and spent a good three hours with the children around dinnertime, even tucking them in to bed. On Sunday, he did no business at all.
The atmosphere grew light, Michael’s mischief more benign, Melanie more animated. The strain between Lil and Jon dissolved, except for this odd, lingering tension Lil decided to ignore. She felt it when their shoulders brushed in the kitchen, when his gaze settled on her as the day dawned, when they’d exchange a look over Michael’s antics. Then came Monday, and she couldn’t ignore it any longer.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MONDAY MORNING, following an abbreviated Sunday night rehearsal, Jon tiptoed through the cabana before Lil or Roy were up. Balancing a mug in one hand, he quietly opened her bedroom door with the other.
Outlined in the pearl light that glimmered at the windows, Lil was still asleep, turned on her side, an arm tucked under her head. He grinned. A soft snore, not at all ladylike, slipped between her lips. He approached the bed and stared down. His smile faded, and he tried to ignore the urge to nibble those lips. That hug the other night… Her face had radiated conviction and compassion, her voice had brooked no argument as she’d tried to argue him out of his guilt. She was so sweet, so strong, even if she didn’t fully realize it. She was…
Needing immediate distraction, he glanced around her room, his gaze roaming past the books lined up on a bookcase, past the clothes folded neatly on a chair, to the picture by her bedside. She was off limits—damn his scruples and damn their deal and—while he was at it—damn, too, that photograph of her husband.
He sat down and the bed creaked. She stirred, but didn’t wake. “C’mon, Rumplestiltskin. Places to go, people to see.” Unable to resist, he scooped the curls back from her cheek. Her skin was soft, warm from sleep.
At his touch, her eyes flew open, and she bolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chin. “What are you doing here?”
Her curls were scrunched up against her head. She looked like that scruffy bear her niece Rose dragged around, but more appetizing. She tried to glare, but a yawn caught her, revealing a soft, pink tongue.
He thrust the mug at her before he lost control and decided to plunder that mouth. “Time to get up.”
“Why?” She frowned at the mug, but he swore her nose twitched. She took it from his hands and sipped, looking warily at him over the rim. “Did you make this—or did Roy?”
“I did, of course.”
Her gown had slipped, and his eyes followed the curve of a bare shoulder. There was a hitch in her breathing. She shrugged the gown up, then glanced at her clock. “Of course? You’re usually not home for another hour. What’s going on?”
“I have a surprise. Come on, lead butt.” He gave her a light slap on the side of her haunch. “Get up and get dressed in—” He stood up, rummaged in her bathroom and emerged brandishing her swimsuit and a terry cloth cover-up. He tossed them to her, and moved toward the door, although he very much wanted to stay. “—in these. Get a move on. Your coach departs in ten minutes, and your loyal subjects await.”
“But, where are we going?”
From the doorway, he looked back at her. She was so tempting, sleepy eyed and rumpled. “Ten minutes,” he said.
In ten minutes, he handed a puzzled Lil up onto the ill-sprung bucket seat of an old Jeep. Sunlight bathed the tops of the wooded hills while the shadowed valleys lay veiled in mist. Pink and gold streaked the pale blue dome of the sky. He took the driver’s seat, and they bounced out of the drive. In the back, the children had shed their early-morning crankies. Michael’s grin stretched ear to ear. Mel’s eyes glowed. They led a string of similar Jeeps filled with the band and crew, coolers and boxes. He refused to tell his passengers where they were headed.
Through the twisted, rutted back roads, he drove, feeling like a terrier unchained from a short leash. In a grind of gears, he slid up embankments to avoid crater-sized potholes but whooped with delight whenever he hit one.
He flashed Lil a smile. “Having fun yet?”
Lil’s mouth was clenched like she was trying to keep her teeth from rattling loose. “Oh, buckets of it.”
As they tooled along, he felt her relax. The wind ruffled her hair, the lemonade sun bathed her skin. Behind her, the kids’ high, excited laughter sang in his ears.
When he glanced next, their eyes met, and she suddenly smiled. “I am having fun.” At the next bump, she threw back her head and laughed with none of her usual constraint.
He grinned. “That’s my girl.”
Out on the highway, they traveled a few miles further, then he downshifted. Spraying gravel, the Jeep swerved under white, wrought-iron arches adorned with dancing dolphins and a sign announcing Surf’s Up Water Park, a forty-acre complex of pools and water rides. Mi
chael and Melanie squealed. As he jerked the Jeep to a halt, Lil’s mother, Hank, Rose, Daisy and Alcea’s daughter Kathleen came running, lugging towels and beach bags.
Lil looked at Jon, her mouth an O of surprise.
He grinned at her. Slinging an elbow over the seat, he leaned into the back and ruffled Michael’s hair. “This day’s for you. This place is all ours for the next five hours. A belated happy birthday, buddy.”
The sound of Lil’s laughter zinged through him. “I think that’s the first time since I’ve laid eyes on him that I’ve seen him this way. Both awake—and silent.”
Jon looked at his son and joined her laughter. Michael sat stunned, his chocolate eyes melted into rounds of surprise. Then he laughed, too. A wide-mouthed howl of pure joy. As he fumbled with his seat belt, Lil hopped out to help him.
But Jon steered her away with a light hand on her back. “It’s your day, too, Lil. Zeke’ll get it.”
Hesitating, she wrapped her fingers around the arm he offered. His muscles jumped under her touch. Folding his hand over hers, he led her up a carefully tended path toward the entrance. The scent of petunias and freshly mowed grass mingled with the tangy smell of chlorine. The sun and her touch were warm.
“There’s an adult with each kid, so don’t worry.” At the top of the path, he turned her around. “See?”
Back in the lot, Zeke worked at the straps snarled around Michael. Nearby, Rose stood in a ruffled bathing suit, watching them with her hand tucked into Zinnia’s. Melanie, an orange-eyelidded Daisy and Kathleen, who for the moment had lost Alcea’s perpetual, regal expression, danced ahead of Three-Ring, Peter and Lydia on the wide, tree-canopied walkway. Ahead of them, his belly spilling over the waistband of his swimming trunks, Roy huffed along behind Hank, who dreamily trailed a hand over banks of violet petunias and magenta-spiked celosia. Some of the road musicians struggled up the walkway lugging baskets undoubtedly stuffed with food. Other members of the crew straggled behind them with fistfuls of balloons. Watching Lil watching them, he held his breath.
“I can see Lydia and Peter’s competent hands in this, but I know enough by now to know nothing happens around here without your supervision.” Lil glanced up at him, her expression shy. “You’ve done well, Mr. Van Castle. Thank you.”
He released his breath. He linked his fingers through hers and tugged her forward. “I did do good, didn’t I?” He cupped his mouth. “Last one to the Furious Flume is a loser!”
Everyone sprinted for the water park entrance and when Lil would have followed, he kept a tight grip. “Let’s go over to the wave pool. We need to talk about a few things, and the next couple days will be crazy.” The State Fair concert was only a few nights away.
She looked perplexed but only nodded and followed him through the entrance. Just inside, he scooped up a couple of fat, yellow tubes and they moved under an arch of mimosa and locust trees toward the Wave Pond. The Wave Pond was a monster of a pool with a concrete beach on one end and heavy machinery buried behind concrete in the other. At intervals, the water churned into waves, mimicking the ocean. Except for a lifeguard perched by the pool, it was deserted.
After dropping their belongings on a nearby patio table, they waded into the pool. Jon plopped the tubes on the surface and held one for Lil to settle into. The early wake-up call must have washed the starch right out of her. Instead of a ladylike wiggle followed by her usual straight-up posture, she flopped on the tube ass-down, draped an arm on either side and lazily let her head fall back. She gave a sigh of satisfaction, and before long, her eyes drifted closed.
The long arch of her neck was exposed and vulnerable, her throat an inviting hollow. What would she do if he strummed a line of kisses along its arc? Slap him, no doubt.
He shifted from foot to foot. “Come on. We’ll catch better waves in the deep end.”
“Wouldn’t want to miss a one,” Lil murmured and made no effort to move.
She was a floating rag doll, except nothing was childish about the sweep of her neck to the handfuls of soft flesh mounding under her swimsuit. Ignoring the spasm in his groin, he set his teeth and dragged her toward the back wall of the pool.
After he’d hoisted himself onto his own tube, he grabbed one of the handles on hers and tried to ignore what else he’d like to grab. “We need to talk about the kids.”
As he’d expected, her eyes popped open. They were a shattering turquoise with the water’s reflection. Digging her elbows into the vinyl, she pushed herself up.
“I’m sure you’d be able to make a home for the kids anywhere,” he started. “But the band leaves in about a week. You didn’t seem to think it’s a great idea for them to go. Not that I wouldn’t want them, honest. But our flight schedules are screwy, we sleep on the plane or in different hotel beds every night, and chow is mostly lukewarm room service.” He watched to see if she planned to reproach him.
“Sounds like lots of fun.” Far from looking upset, she seemed pleased. Her toes played with the water, a gesture he’d put down to nerves, except he’d rarely seen Lil nervous.
“Used to be. I used to get psyched. I wanted to see it all, experience it all. But, as they say, the thrill is gone.” This time charging himself up had been hard. He bet—no, he knew—it had something to do with her and the aura of home she’d created for him and his kids. His gaze wandered from her toes, along her delicately arched feet and up her firm calves to a pair of sweet knees. At least he’d be leaving the agonizing temptation that grew stronger every day they were together.
A buzzer announced the beginning of a wave interval. The lifeguard stood at attention, and the water stirred, only ripples at first, then gaining momentum. Their tubes bumped together, then apart as they plummeted over one wave and into the pit of another. They dipped, bumped, then crested, down, bump, then up. Like Mama rocking them in a big, water cradle. Except Lil’s posture refused to relax.
Bump. “What did you have in mind for me and the children?”
Bump. “I have digs outside of Nashville. You’d like it. The countryside is—”
Bump. “No.”
In the rush of water, he didn’t think he’d heard her right, although he recognized the set of her chin. “Sorry?” The waves subsided, and the lifeguard sat down.
She pushed wet curls out of her face. “I don’t want to go to Nashville.”
“It’s not so bad. I know you’re not used to cities, but Nashville isn’t that big—”
“And the children don’t want to go, either. Michael isn’t old enough to remember much about Nashville, about the last years of your marriage. But Melanie does.” She paused, then looked at him in her usual straight-on fashion. “They aren’t happy memories.”
He looked away, staring over the woods that ringed the pool deck. A breeze surfed through the treetops and ruffled the leaves into a smatter of applause.
Of course, the kids didn’t have happy memories. Those last years, he and Belinda had to work at being polite. Usually they hadn’t even managed that.
“You’re right.” He reached for her tube and pulled her alongside. “How about this. I have another home in LA, for when we record there. A loft. But it’s big enough—”
Again, Lil shook her head. Feeling unusually patient, he waited to hear what she had to say, surprised at how much he’d grown to rely on her judgment about his kids. Hell, about everything. He should’ve known she’d already given this matter a lot of thought.
“Cordelia,” she said.
Both his eyebrows went up, and she hurried on, her knuckles turning white on the tube handles. “Please, don’t say no before you think about it. My house is big enough for three of us. Three bedrooms. They’re on the small side, and I’ll have to move some things around, but that’s no problem. And, there’s an addition on the back where I gave my piano lessons. I can turn that into a playroom. I have a cat, and they’d love a pet, you know. Out back, there’s a play fort, a swing set thing that was there when we bought the house. We’d kep
t it for when—” Abruptly, she broke off, lips tightening.
“For when, Lil?” he asked gently.
She stared off over the treetops. When she finally replied, he could hardly hear her. “I lost my baby. I was pregnant when I got the call that Robbie was hurt in a car accident. I rushed to the hospital and when I got there…”
He thought of the photo he’d seen this morning. Laughing eyes and an engaging grin.
Her face mirrored pain, and she hauled in a shaky breath. “You know, the doctor had such shiny shoes. Like black mirrors. Whenever I think of that day, I think of those shoes. Silly, isn’t it? I remember wondering if he shined them himself, or if his wife did it. I concentrated on those shoes, like if I thought about them hard enough, I wouldn’t have to hear what he said. And right after he told me, I had cramps. Horrid pains ripping at my insides, and… There wasn’t anything they could do.” She looked down, blinking rapidly.
He wanted to pull her to him, absorb her grief, but the careful way she held herself told him she’d reject any offers of comfort. Instead, he gave her what he could. “I’m sorry, Lil.” He spoke slowly. “You know, I—Belinda and I—lost a baby, too. Our first.”
She raised her head, her expression sympathetic. “I remember you mentioned a pregnancy.”
His gaze followed a mourning dove. It flitted from the ground to a low hanging branch.
He rarely acknowledged the void that yawned where that child should be. “At first I was upset Belinda got pregnant. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted that kid, wanted to give it everything I’d never been given. So I married her. Wrote a song, too. Bella Linden.” He smiled. “We were going to name the baby Linden. When the song hit the top of the charts, I thought I had it all. I’d grabbed the brass ring. Success and a family all in one swoop.”
“What happened?”
His smile faded. “Miscarriage, like you. One night when she was home alone.” Of course, she blamed him, never bothering to mention the drugs he now realized she took even then. Drugs or not, it didn’t matter. “I screwed up. I wasn’t there for her.”
SING ME HOME (Love Finds A Home - Book One) Page 18