Nights Under the Tennessee Stars

by Joanne Rock

  She couldn’t put off talking to him any longer. He’d be leaving tomorrow. She had wished for a romantic gesture. She knew it wasn’t coming. Even Patrick had been able to see that Remy had problems he still needed to work out. Maybe if she was younger and more naive, she would jump in with both feet and cross her fingers she could help him find happiness.

  At first, she’d thought it was simply a matter of taking a risk. She understood now there were calculated risks where you gambled on good odds, and there were foolish risks that were just for the sake of riding the drama roller coaster. She wanted an equal partner. Someone to share the journey with her.

  Remy’s hazel eyes met hers. They were greener than ever, maybe because of the colors in the sky at sunset or maybe because of the adrenaline from the confrontation with Patrick.

  “I wish you could have seen all the emotions crossing your face just now.” He shook his head as he used his fingers and thumbs to make a square frame in the air. “Even if I had my camera, I’m not sure I could have captured them, they slid by so fast.”

  Her throat clogged. Those emotions he talked about were that close to the surface, ready to bubble over.

  “Remy—”

  “I screwed up, didn’t I?” His arms dropped to his sides, golden muscles making her wish she could have seen him paddling his pirogue around a bayou. “Not just going after that guy.” He barely spared a gesture to dismiss Patrick. “But installing the system without asking you. Setting up so many gadgets like it’s my house and not yours.”

  “No.” She corralled his gesticulating hands in hers. Held them. “I don’t mind the security. It was sweet and thoughtful and I can’t believe you spent all day working so hard to do something really nice for me.”

  He studied her face, and lights popped on all around them, flooding the grounds with a halogen glow.

  “I might have gone a little far,” he admitted, blinking against the glare.

  “The thing is, I guess I let myself get my hopes up when you said you had a surprise for me. I thought it would be tickets to see you in Miami. Or maybe you’d take a page from Scott’s book and come up with someplace we could meet the next time you go on a trip to scout for locations.” She lifted a shoulder, not sure what exactly she’d expected. It definitely hadn’t been an alarm system. “Every day we’ve spent together, I’ve fallen a little more for you and I think you’ve been retreating from me.”

  “One step forward, two steps back.” He hung his head. “I knew it might be like that when I tried to rejoin the living.”

  His voice was whisper quiet, as if it was some dark admission. Yet, the thing she noticed most was what he didn’t say.

  “You don’t deny you’ve been retreating from me.” She’d noticed it after his bad dream. And it had only gotten worse after the episode at the store.

  She couldn’t be with someone who lived half his life in an old nightmare.

  “I don’t want to.” He met her eyes again and there was no denying the force behind the words. “But the harder I try to move on, the more the past strangles me. Falling for you means I’m going to be scared all the time. Scared of leaving you. Of someone hurting you. I know you don’t want to live that way and neither do I. I thought if I got the alarm set up, I’d relax.” He touched her cheek and his fingers came away wet. “Don’t cry.”

  “I find it sad.” She swallowed back dreams that weren’t going to come true. Caring about Remy had been a huge risk, and if given the chance to do it all over again, she would. But losing him was going to hurt ten times as much as she had feared.

  Already the hole in heart ached and he hadn’t left yet.

  Not physically, anyway. But he’d been fading a little more every day this past week.

  “I never wanted to hurt you.” He stepped closer, bringing all that physical comfort she needed so damn badly and couldn’t afford to take.

  “I hurt me, Remy.” She stepped back, needing that space between them before she fell into his arms, made love to him all night long and lost the rest of her heart to him forever. “That’s on me and I own it. I’m glad I got to be with you, and be special to you, even for a little while. I hope you find peace with...everything.”

  Tears welled in his eyes, too. And oh, man, that was going to just break her.

  She rushed to finish before she lost it. “I need to say goodbye to Sarah. I don’t want her to be upset about this. Maybe in the morning I could stop by the B and B while you...I don’t know...fuel up the car or get breakfast or something.”

  He nodded, the movement jerky. He was holding back as much as her. “Of course. I understand.”

  There was so much more to say, but it would all just end with the same two words, and she couldn’t speak knowing they were coming up. Knowing they had to say them.

  “Goodbye, Remy.” Leaning in to kiss his cheek, she didn’t let herself look at him.

  She ran into the house and locked herself in her bedroom. The pain of losing him was too big to face any other way. She hugged her pillow and cried, wishing she’d been the kind of woman who could make him smile again.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  NO WONDER SARAH hated Miami.

  Remy had been back for four weeks and was already considering putting their home on the market. What the hell had made him choose a city where just driving home from work required the aggression of an Indy car driver and was guaranteed to elevate his blood pressure? He hung his keys on a hook in the kitchen as he entered their apartment. A hook Sarah had installed, now that he thought about it. It was shaped like a daisy with a ladybug on one petal.

  Since he’d returned from Tennessee, he’d noticed a lot of stuff she’d taken care of in the past two years. These days, his eyes were open to all the ways he’d put his head in the sand for too damn long. Knowing Erin had shown him how narrow his world had become. Meeting her had been like an electric shock to the senses, zinging him alive after he’d walked through too much of his life in a daze.

  He missed her so badly he ached with it. Too bad he hadn’t been able to give her the kind of happiness she deserved. But each day, he was trying to do better. Be better.

  He’d taken Sarah back to Louisiana the weekend before to visit her mother’s grave. For the first time, it hadn’t ripped his heart out. His counselor had suggested it might be a good thing to do. And it had been really...important. They’d brought flowers and arranged the blooms on the grave site in the rough outline of Liv’s cypress tree painting. Remy had photographed it and put the photo with the others—his original photo of the tree and Liv’s painting of the photo. He’d felt a new sense of peace ever since he’d been able to say goodbye in a way that was meaningful.

  Permanent.

  Now, laying his jacket over a kitchen chair, he switched on a light above the stove and pulled out a pan to make dinner. That was one of the ways he was living in the here and now—he’d divided cooking duties with his daughter. His nights sucked more—obviously—but he was proud to have expanded his repertoire to include poached eggs. He could grill salmon. And there’d been a time when he did not burn a roast, although that dish was far from mastered. Tonight he would Cajun fry some speckled trout his brother had overnighted him, packed in ice.

  Fresh caught in bayou waters, the fish was an old favorite, the recipe something he could make in his sleep. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t Cajun fry.

  When he’d first returned from Tennessee, he’d been primed to return to his therapist and work harder to make progress. Get through those grief stages. Find a way to be a better father and maybe—just maybe—be the kind of man who wouldn’t hurt Erin Finley again.

  But it had been slower than he’d hoped. His “one step forward, two steps back” theory seemed like a big fat joke these days. At first, he’d stepped so far back he’d actually had a day where he’d been speechless at work. Stuck in a meeting and unable to pull his thoughts together to form a coherent sentence. But then, the guys in the meeting hadn’t known that
discussing home renovations would put him over the edge. Just the words air nail compressor damn near sent him into a meltdown with missing Erin.

  Things had gotten better recently. Especially after the visit to Liv’s grave. He could feel new hope brewing inside him.

  His phone rang while he seasoned the fish.

  “Armand,” he answered, looking at the caller ID. “You are the hero of the dinner table tonight. I’m cooking the trout as we speak.”

  Sarah would be home from graduation rehearsal any minute. Mathilda had driven her and—bless that girl—she was helping Sarah with some application essays for late registration.

  His daughter had applied to some schools in Tennessee and a few in Louisiana, inspiring Lucas to send out a few last-minute applications himself. The kid was obviously crazy about Sarah, and who could blame him? Remy had been keeping a close eye on that situation, but he had to admit, the guy made Sarah smile a lot. Hard to begrudge her the daily Skype time with Lucas when the boy made his girl laugh so often.

  “I only sent the fish to make you come home. The bayou, she misses you.” Armand was the most colorful net maker in all of Houma, his stories as prized as his good knots. “I heard her calling out for you while I reeled in the trout, and I said I would try to lure you back with the taste of the delicacies you love best.”

  “You’re not lying about that part, anyway.” Remy coated the trout in black pepper and red pepper mixed together. “All the rest of your lines might work on the tourists, but not on me.”

  “That’s because you gave your heart away to the gods of money and you forgot about the sea, you old dog.” Armand must be approaching the dance hall because the sound of accordion music swelled until Remy could almost see the skirts swaying and the old-timers sipping their one beer for the night.

  Remy turned down the heat under the pan. “Did you put Mom on the phone while I wasn’t looking? ’Cause you sound just like her, brother man.”

  “Funny how the parents get smarter as we get older, no?” Armand chuckled before he called out greetings. “Enjoy the trout, Remigius. I keep your boat ready.”

  Remy hung up the phone, surprised how much the last bit had gotten to him—a whole lot more than accusations of selling out to money.

  I keep your boat ready.

  It made him wish he’d gone fishing that day Erin had given him directions to a nearby river. The place where she’d dropped a line as a girl. For that matter, why hadn’t he taken her with him to see the water again?

  Maybe frying the fish made him nostalgic. Or maybe it was that old zydeco tune “Quelle Étoile” that had him thinking about things he hadn’t shared with Erin. He’d bet she’d love to dance to “Quelle Étoile” in a sweaty dance hall. Or fish for speckled trout. Hadn’t she said she wished he’d done something more romantic than install a home security system?

  A rustling outside the door warned him Sarah was home a second before her key turned in the lock.

  “Hey, Dad,” she called, cheery but still not as happy as she’d been a few weeks ago. “Something smells yummy.”

  She missed Lucas, of course, but he knew for a fact she also missed Erin and all the Finleys. She’d grown deeper roots in Heartache in a few weeks’ time than she’d put down in Florida in two years.

  “We got a treat from your uncle Armand.” He lifted the pan to show her.

  “Awesome. Too bad there are no lemon-berry cupcakes for dessert.” She hung up her keys on the daisy hook and moved to set the table. “I heard Ally’s uncle Mack bought a spot for a restaurant in Heartache, by the way. There will be lots of cupcakes, I’ll bet.”

  As if he didn’t miss the place enough on his own, he had Sarah to help him remember how much he was missing.

  He tried to recall what his counselor said about doing the hard work. If he put in the hours of dealing with the setbacks, there was no reason he couldn’t emerge happy and whole. Ready to start over. If nothing else, he could always do like Scott Finley, who’d poured his heart out on six chalkboards when he couldn’t figure out how to make Bethany happy. At least the guy had shown he’d tried.

  What had Remy done to show Erin he was trying? He’d been so busy fixing himself and trying to patch together his own issues, he hadn’t taken any time to show her he could make her happy. A damn shame since he loved her so much he thought he didn’t know how he’d get through another week without her.

  He’d known it as soon as he’d left Heartache, but it wasn’t fair to tell her until he knew he could uphold his end of what that meant. But as he fried his fish and ticked through all the ways he’d failed her, he figured he might have enough of his act together to try again. No, try his ass off now that he knew how far he’d fallen short.

  “Maybe we’d better take a look at the place.” He slid the fish onto a serving platter and put it on the table in front of his daughter.

  Sarah simply stared at him.

  “Excuse me?” she said finally, eyes wide.

  “It sounded to me like you want to check out the new restaurant. And I’m agreeing. Maybe it’s a good idea.” He was setting the pan in the sink when the tackle hug came.

  It didn’t incapacitate him as much as the squeal that pierced his ear. Partially deaf but definitely pleased with himself, Remy hugged his daughter tight.

  No matter what else happened, he’d made one special girl happy today. But he knew it would take a lot more than cupcakes to convince Erin to take another chance on him. For the first time, the words hope springs eternal didn’t tear him apart when he thought about them. If anything, he hoped that whoever said them knew what he or she was talking about because he needed Erin to have some small hope left. Some lingering faith in him.

  * * *

  ERIN HAD EVERY faith her highlights were going to look amazing.

  She straightened from the wash sink at The Strand where Trish had just rinsed out the solution that would put ombré highlights in her newly caramel-colored hair. Of course, her hair was one of the few parts of her life that was working out for her these days. Well, that and her professional life.

  Last Chance Vintage had just opened the new addition last weekend with double the inventory. Heather was back in town splitting time with her, so she didn’t need to be there as often, giving Erin more time to develop her Dress for Success initiative. She was raising funds to buy a small bus to take their huge inventory on the road so she could bring the mini-shop to women in rural parts of Tennessee who couldn’t get to the store. The project had taken on a whole life of its own now that it wasn’t just about her making up for hurting Patrick’s family. Now it was a way to help other women make their dreams come true. It fulfilled her on a soul-deep level.

  Professionally speaking, anyway. The personal part of her life still missed a vital piece.

  “Girl, you look smoking hot,” Trish observed as she blew out the damp strands, taking the time to curl the ends under with a fat round brush. “You were right about this color combination. I’m loving it on you.”

  “It looks great, Trish. I really needed a pick-me-up.” Erin didn’t bother to hide her broken heart from her friends this time. With Patrick, she’d known he wasn’t worthy of her anyhow, so moping around and being upset afterward had felt wrong.

  But who could blame her for wishing she’d worked things out with Remy Weldon? Half the female population had fallen for him while he’d been in Heartache.

  “I can’t even watch another episode of Interstate Antiquer now. Or American Voice, for that matter. How could he just head back to Florida without a word?”

  In spite of everything, she felt the need to defend him.

  “He’s texted me a few times since he left.” Four short messages telling her he was trying to get his life together. She hadn’t responded as she couldn’t afford to take another chance on a man who hadn’t made any promises.

  “Humph.” Trish concentrated the hot air on the ends of Erin’s hair. “I really thought I could size a man up better than
that. Everything I saw said he was crazy about you.”

  As if her heart wasn’t tender enough, well-meaning friends poked at it regularly. She wanted to believe he’d texted her with some great purpose—that he had hopes of coming back one day.

  But for all she knew, the only reason Remy was trying to work out his issues was so he could be a better father to Sarah. While she applauded that in theory, the reality was, it wouldn’t fix the ache inside her.

  “He’s been through a lot.” Logically, she understood. Still, she needed to stop making excuses for a man who simply hadn’t been able to put the past behind him.

  It was as straightforward, and as heartbreaking, as that.

  “Well, I say you’ll have no trouble turning heads whenever you’re ready to date again.” Trish spun her chair to face the mirror as she shut off the dryer. “What do you think, sexy woman?”

  Erin smiled. The hair did look great, even if what stood out to her the most was the sadness in her eyes. With an effort, she blinked it away and tried to be positive.

  “You’re a hairdressing genius in addition to being a good friend.” Standing, she left her apron in the chair and followed Trish to the register.

  Outside, she could see her car parked on the street and—strangely—a basket beside it. She’d been planning to stop by the store before going home for the day, but the basket made her curious.

  “Want me to make an appointment for you in six weeks?” Trish asked, already checking her appointment book.

  “Can I call you?” Erin left extra cash on the counter. “I just remembered. I have to get going.”

  “Well, sure, hon,” Trish was saying. “Hey, Erin, you left way too much...”

  But she was already out the door, drawn by a basket that looked like a picnic hamper. And it wasn’t just sitting on the street as if someone had left it by accident. The red-and-brown woven container was balanced on the hood of her car, close to the windshield.