“No,” she assured him. “We’d never have a private moment without someone coming over to the table.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Jake said. “I wanted to talk, just you and me.”
“I’d like that. What exactly do you plan to talk about?” She smiled, surprised at how serious he looked. “Do you have an agenda?”
“Yeah,” he said, stepping on the gas. “We’re going to start with the story of our lives and go from there.”
“Really?” Aurora wondered if it was too late to change her mind about going out for dinner. Over the last years she’d turned being private into an art form. Just the thought of revealing an ex-husband and a broken career was enough to make her wish for a microwaved dinner in front of the television set. “That might take a while.”
“Sweetheart,” he murmured, turning at the flashing red light on the corner of Main Street. “I hope it takes all night.”
To stall, she asked him about his childhood and he shared the disappointments, the frustrations and the music that saved him from going crazy.
“I’ve been avoiding family life ever since,” he confessed. It was a beautiful sun-filled evening, and the wheat fields stretched endlessly on both sides of the road. Aurora had slipped on sunglasses. “Marrying Winter’s mother was crazy, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I’m not sure why.”
“And she never told you she was pregnant?”
“No. Merry was used to getting what she wanted. And what she wanted was to go back to England and marry someone who was very, very rich. Which she did, eventually.”
“And he didn’t adopt Winter?”
“No. He knew she wasn’t his and, from what Winter said, was nice enough but not at all interested in her.”
“How sad.”
“But that means I have her now,” Jake said. “And I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“She’s a funny child. I like her.”
“And she likes you. She thinks you’re very glamorous and interesting.”
Aurora laughed. “Most people around here have other ideas.”
“They know how important you are to the town,” he said. “Don’t underestimate yourself. And wait until they hear you play the fiddle.”
She groaned. “Please, you’re not going to make me do that, are you?”
“Oh, yeah, I am.” He glanced her way and grinned. “Every band needs a fiddler, and the Wild Judiths are no exception. We’ve got a big gig for the night of the finale, and you’re going to be onstage with us.”
She winced. “I don’t know about that, Jake.”
“I do. It’s going to be an event they’ll never forget.”
They talked of other things for the rest of the drive. Sam’s addition, Aurora’s exhibitionist construction crew, Meg’s plans for the ranch and Jerry’s broken heart. Jake thought he was smitten with a reporter at the moment, but Aurora wasn’t convinced.
“He’s not himself,” she said. “He won’t argue with me, no matter how much I try to annoy him.”
“And he likes to argue with you?”
“He loves it. Gives him a little spring in his step, you know?”
It wasn’t until much later, in their quiet corner table at the Stockman Steak House, that their conversation grew serious. The waitress had cleared their plates, coffee had been ordered, dessert refused and wineglasses refilled. He took her hand across the table.
“Tell me this is not just me feeling this way,” he said.
Her heart lurched and her fingers tightened around his. “It’s not just you,” she replied. “But it’s a little frightening.”
“I know.” He smiled at her. “I’m more terrified than I’ve ever been in my life. I keep thinking you’re going to push me away.”
“You don’t do well with rejection?”
He shook his head. “Not this kind.”
“Neither do I.”
“You were married once before.”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “I suppose this is the time to explain?”
“Yep.” He squeezed her hand. “You can’t remain a mystery forever.”
She smiled at that. “Okay. A lot happened to me, all at once. My parents were killed, in a plane crash. They were in a private plane and, well, it was bad. I was five months pregnant at the time and I lost the baby.”
“Oh, Aurora,” Jake whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“I started having panic attacks.” She left out the part about the concerts, the collapses onstage, Sean’s frustration and her inability to leave her house. That was a bit too much drama for an official first date. “And my life—and my marriage—fell apart. My husband was my manager and the fallout was, well, cataclysmic. It was a mutual decision to end the marriage,” she added. A long moment passed before Jake said anything else. She could tell he didn’t want to pry, and yet he wanted to know what brought her here, to Montana, at this point in her life. And she didn’t blame him for being curious.
“So,” he said, still holding her hand. “How did you end up in Willing?”
“I wanted to die,” she confessed. “So I packed up the things that mattered to me, bought a car and started driving. I wasn’t a very good driver—it wasn’t something I did very often—so it took me a while, but I eventually drove into Willing.” She frowned, trying to remember. “I was in Billings, right off the interstate, and I took a wrong turn. It took me hours to catch on that I was going the wrong way.”
“And by then you were in Willing?”
“Yes. And, miraculously, I wasn’t dead.” She smiled at the incredulous man in the white shirt. “So I bought the Dahl.”
He studied her, his expression serious and even sad. He looked as if he wanted to take her in his arms and make everything okay, but of course he couldn’t. “You went from a world-class musician to buying a bar. On a whim.”
“I wanted to be far away from where I’d been,” she explained. “Does that make sense?”
“I suppose.” He took a deep breath. “And you were happy.”
“Maybe not happy,” she admitted carefully. “But content. Content enough with what I had, I think.”
“And now?” He looked as though he wanted to lean across the table and kiss her. But the expanse was large and there was a low votive candle and a bud vase between them. “Could you be happy now?”
“I don’t want to be made a fool of, Jake.”
“I’m not fooling around.” His eyes darkened. “I’m serious about this, Aurora.”
“I’m really too old to have boyfriends,” she said, lifting her chin.
“And I’m too old to be one,” he growled. “And if we don’t get out of this restaurant soon, I’m going to have to come across that table and kiss you in front of forty people eating steak and potatoes.”
“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” She reached for her purse. “Let’s go.”
* * *
HE LIKED HER attitude. And he was relieved she’d finally told him why she’d run away to Montana. She’d lost her family, an unborn child and a husband who sounded like a man who hadn’t been sympathetic. Reading between the lines, Jake guessed that Aurora had been on her own long before her marriage ended.
But no longer.
Jake settled the bill with a minimum of fuss and escorted his gorgeous date out of the restaurant, where in the shadows of the overhang and the privacy of an isolated corner of the building, he took her in his arms and kissed her.
Finally, he thought as her arms went around his neck and her head tilted to allow him closer.
Finally.
* * *
“YOU HAVE COMPANY,” Sam announced, when Jake stopped in to check on Winter. If she was awake, he’d take her home. If not, he’d pick her up in the m
orning. Winter liked bossing around the little boys and helping Lucia in the kitchen, but Jake wondered if her arm ached after a long evening of playing with the Swallow kids.
“Company?” He was still beaming from his evening with Aurora. They’d kissed. And talked. He’d driven her home and then, upstairs in her apartment, they’d played a few songs together. She’d perfected a stunning solo break for his third hit song and she’d worked up an arrangement for “Midnight on the Water.” They would bring the house down during the finale party, he’d assured her. And she hadn’t protested.
“Your band arrived tonight. They’re on their way to a festival in Billings. I think they were in Canada a few days ago.” Sam leaned against the counter in Lucia’s quiet kitchen.
“My band?” Jake couldn’t quite comprehend what his brother was talking about. “My band? From Nashville?”
“Yeah. Nice group of guys. They’re camping in the backyard.” Sam chuckled. “They seemed glad to get out of those vans. And the truck with the sound equipment is parked out front. Didn’t you notice it?”
“Not really.” Jake hadn’t noticed anything but the lights on in the living room, meaning Sam and Lucia were still up. He wanted to tell Sam—well—he wasn’t sure what he wanted to tell Sam.
“Winter’s asleep on the couch. You should just leave her there, because she’s wrapped up in a quilt and snoring. That is one funny kid. She’s teaching Davey how to speak with a British accent and he goes around calling himself Lord Grantham.” He frowned. “Or is it Lord Wrentham?”
“Grantham,” Jake replied, going to the window to peer outside. He saw two tents but no one was around. The guys had always appreciated any excuse to camp. This particular group of musicians loved roughing it whenever they could and traveled with camping gear, propane stoves and sleeping bags. John, the drummer, never tired of telling them he’d been an Eagle Scout.
“Your lead singer went ahead with his girlfriend, but the guys here wanted to stop and say hello.”
“Should I go out there?”
“Nah. They were wiped out. Lucia fed them and the bass guitar player took a shower.”
“I owe Lucia for this.”
“She enjoyed herself. They entertained us with stories about life on the road.” Sam pushed himself away from the counter. “Go home and come back in the morning. I’ll send them to Meg’s for breakfast.”
“Call me when they get up?”
“Sure.” Sam smiled. “How’s Aurora?”
“Beautiful,” Jake declared. “Absolutely beautiful.”
* * *
“THE THING IS,” Manny said, stabbing his pancake with a fork. “We need you. Just for a couple of nights. That’s all. It’s a three-day show and all the money goes to help Paula. We figured you’d want to know.”
“You figured right.” Paula Davis had hired him when no one else would. She’d given him his first break, backed his first album and made sure he had enough to eat. She mothered a lot of struggling musicians, but she also had a gift for spotting talent.
And now she had cancer. Insurance wasn’t covering all the expenses, she was in danger of losing her Austin club and she needed help. Musicians were uniting in south Austin to raise money by doing what they did best: play music. It was to be a weekend event, with local restaurants donating food and distilleries donating beer. And it was going to start in six days.
“Then you’ll come?”
“Of course.”
* * *
THE PARTY AT the Dahl that Monday night would go down in history.
“People are going to be talking about this for years,” Jerry said, sounding humbled as he looked around the barroom.
Aurora didn’t disagree. Jake’s friends and the Wild Judiths had combined into one large band, taking turns cramming themselves and their instruments on the tiny stage.
“The show was pretty good tonight, too,” Jerry noted. “You can see how Mike and Cora are falling for each other. And you can’t tell if Pete is heartbroken or not.”
“They sure created a lot more drama than I remember,” Aurora said, watching Jake help break down the equipment. The bar was officially closed for the night, though Jerry showed no signs of following the rest of the customers out the front door. “I didn’t know that the girls were crying so much.”
“Just ask Iris,” Jerry muttered. “She started wearing earplugs because she couldn’t take the whining.”
“Wow. I missed that, thank goodness.”
“Yeah. You saw them at night, all happy and dressed up and ready to party.” He sighed into his glass of scotch. “But there was a dark side.”
“There usually is.” She turned on the faucet, rinsed the cloth in hot water and squeezed the excess water out of it before wiping down another section of the bar.
“I hear your boyfriend is leaving us.”
“Yes.”
“Going to Texas. Austin. Live Music Capital of the World.” He sighed again. “They’ve got it all down there. A river. Good weather. Music venues. Tex-Mex. A university. Bats.”
“Bats?” she asked as Jake turned and smiled at her, holding up two fingers, telling her he’d be with her in two minutes.
“Big tourist attraction. I wish we had something like that.”
“You wish we had bats?”
“Yeah. Thousands—or millions, maybe—come flying out from under a bridge every sunset. Tourists love it.”
Aurora shuddered. “I can’t imagine.” She waited for a moment, wondering if he was through talking about the wildlife in Texas, before she refilled his drink.
“On the house,” she said.
“Thanks.” He lifted his glass. “Cheers.”
“What about you? Are you going to be okay?”
“You mean about Tracy?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll survive. The pain is easing. And I still think she’ll come to her senses and realize what a stud she could have had.” He took a sip of his drink. “Wow. The good stuff.”
“Special occasion.” She smiled as Jake headed toward her from across the room.
“Good luck with that one,” Jerry muttered as he swiveled on his stool to see who she was smiling at like a lovesick fool. “You know, if we can get him to stay, we could turn Willing into the Live Music Capital of Montana.”
“He’s staying,” she assured the mayor. “He’s staying.”
* * *
“I WANT TO GO,” Winter said, watching her father toss his clothes into a duffel bag. His guitar case stood by the door, and a bag of music sat next to it on the floor.
“Not this time. Another time. We’ll go down for the SXSW Festival one of these days.”
It was annoying how he could put his foot down and say no to her, just like that. She didn’t like being left behind. She didn’t like it one bit. They’d been together since Seattle, since she got off the plane and trudged to the baggage claim, where Jake had stood holding a sign so she’d recognize her own father.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving,” she yelped. “It is so not fair!”
“I told you,” he said, using his irritating Calm Father Voice. “It’s a fund-raiser for an old friend who has cancer. I need to be there.”
“You can take me with you.”
“I can’t. There will be too many late nights and too much going on. I don’t know where I’m staying and I won’t have anyone to look after you. You can’t go with me, not this time.” He stopped packing and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Yeah,” she sniffed. “Me, too. At least I have Aurora.”
“And Lucia, Sam and the boys. And Meg, Owen and everyone at the café,” he reminded her. “And Mama Marie.”
“But I get to stay with Aurora,” she reminded him. She liked
staying with Lucia and Sam, but the cousins? She couldn’t picture living with those three noisy little boys for a week.
“Yes.” He kissed the top of her head. “Remember what I said.”
“Respect her privacy.”
“That’s right.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” she promised. “I won’t do anything to mess up what you’ve got going.”
“You just called me ‘Dad.’”
“It’s okay,” she assured him, pulling away from the hug. “You’re starting to act like one.”
“Which is a good thing?” His smile was movie-star handsome.
“Most of the time,” she conceded. “Except about riding horses.”
“We’ll talk about that when your bones heal,” Jake said, turning back to his packing. “In the meantime, stay away from Icicle.”
She looked down at the cast on her arm. “It’s not like I have a choice.”
“I love you, kid.”
Winter couldn’t look at him. She felt her throat tighten and she wanted to cry. She sort of loved him, too, though she wasn’t going to get all soppy and tell him that.
“You’re going to miss karaoke night,” she reminded him, following her father down the stairs. “How can you miss karaoke night?”
* * *
“I’M NOT SURE if I should act like a mother or an aunt or a much older friend,” Aurora told Meg. She’d taken Winter to the café for breakfast, and after filling up on pancakes and eggs, she’d joined Loralee and Shelly to play with the baby in the far corner of the room. Little Laura never failed to attract attention whenever she made an appearance at the restaurant.
“Whatever you’re doing seems to be working.” Meg took a sip from her coffee and winced. “This tastes funny. Does your coffee taste funny?”
“I’m drinking tea.”
She pushed the mug away from her. “When does Jake come home?”
“Today’s the last day of the concert. He’s supposed to fly back to Billings Monday or Tuesday.” She watched Winter laugh along with Shelly while the baby made faces at them. “I like that child.”
“You seem to have a family now,” her friend said. “Is this turning out to be serious?”
The Husband Show Page 20