“It feels that way,” Aurora offered. “When we’re together it feels that way. And he left me his daughter. That’s saying a lot.”
“I’ve seen the way Jake looks at you.” Meg eased herself out of the booth. “He’s a man in love. I’m happy for both of you. And now I have to go throw up.”
Aurora watched Meg scurry across the room to the narrow hall behind the counter that held the cash register and the gum. Either Meg had the stomach flu, food poisoning or was pregnant.
Aurora laid a hand on her own abdomen. She remembered feeling as if her body had been taken over by an alien force those first weeks of pregnancy. She’d settled into the calm, hungry stage at the end of the third month, her waist disappearing rapidly while her energy returned along with her appetite. Meg was in for an adventure, and she envied her so much it hurt.
Winter’s yellow hair flew around her face as she rushed across the room.
“Shelly asked me to babysit,” she said. “Loralee, Meg’s mom, will be at the house.” She paused. “Did you know they live in one of the cabins? I mean, how cool is that?”
“I did. And it is.”
“Anyway, Loralee will be there but I’m going to be there, too, so Loralee can get ready to go out tonight. She has a date.” Here Winter rolled her eyes. “Shelly said she has to work until two, but if I could stay, then maybe she could get her laundry done and take a shower.”
“But you can’t pick the baby up.” Aurora looked at the cast. “You’re not hurting, are you? Not doing too much?”
“No, it’s cool. She’ll be on the floor having tummy time and then she likes to lie on her back and play with the toys that dangle from this cage thing that hangs over her.”
“That sounds good,” Aurora said, unsuccessfully trying to picture what kind of baby toy Winter was trying to describe. “Call me and let me know when you’re heading home.”
“Have you talked to Dad?”
“Not since yesterday morning. He sounded really busy.”
Winter sighed. “Is he coming home soon?”
“He’ll let us know,” Aurora assured her. Winter surprised her with a quick hug before returning to the baby and Loralee. Meg was still in the bathroom, and Aurora decided to go home and practice the violin. After all, she had a gig in eight days, and she’d promised to show up at the band jam this afternoon. The guys were taking over the Dahl, and everyone was determined to come up with a set list that would guarantee a standing ovation at the finale party.
Aurora had a few surprises planned herself. Jake Hove had better get ready.
* * *
“I’M NOT SURE,” Jake hedged after his daughter asked him when he was coming home. Aurora listened to the conversation from the speaker phone, Winter tucked against her on the chaise longue.
“But when?”
“I have business here,” he said, sounding mysterious. Or at least, that’s what Aurora sensed.
“I miss you,” Winter whined.
“I miss you, too,” he said. “Let me talk to Aurora?”
She handed over the phone and flounced off. Aurora turned off the speaker and held the phone to her ear. “What’s going on?”
“A little business,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”
“All right, but—”
“Hip said practice went really well Sunday. And that you played.”
“You talked to Hip?”
“The guys were impressed. You’ve been practicing.”
“You’ll never make a bluegrass fiddler out of me.” She laughed. “But I do like those country-rock riffs.”
“Look, I have to go, but I’ll call again tomorrow.”
“But the fund-raiser—your friend—”
“It’s all good,” he assured her. “Tim and Faith showed up, and Willie. Trisha Yearwood put on a huge lunch for everyone.”
“I’ve seen her cooking show.” She would have loved to have lunch with Trisha Yearwood, even if she had never heard her sing. “She seems really nice.”
“They auctioned off one of Taylor Swift’s guitars, and Garth was there to emcee the whole thing. We sang together Sunday morning. Did some gospel, then—oh—wait a sec.” She heard him talk to someone else, something about buying a guitar. Then his voice came back on the line. “Sorry about that.”
“You’re having a good time,” she said, her heart growing heavy.
This town wouldn’t hold him, not for long. He sounded so happy, in the middle of the world where he’d made a living for so many years. Aurora looked over at Winter, who was typing furiously on her iPad.
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Lots of excitement here. We might make this an annual event. We raised a lot—”
And then he was gone, the connection cut.
“Wow,” she said, to no one in particular, but Winter looked up.
“Yeah,” the girl answered. “He’s in ‘big star’ mode again, don’t you think?”
“It must be fun,” she said, hoping Winter wouldn’t be too hurt by her father’s delayed return. He certainly hadn’t sounded upset about staying in Austin for a while longer. Today was Tuesday, and she’d thought he’d be flying home. But now that she thought about it, she realized he hadn’t said exactly when he’d return.
“It’s fun here,” Winter insisted. “With us.”
Yes, Aurora thought. But maybe not fun enough.
* * *
“ARE WE GOING NOW?”
“Yes, we are.” Aurora picked up her violin case, her violin secured inside it. Jerry had organized the huge Monday-night finale party in the park. There would be hot dogs and hamburgers on grills brought from the Triple M, who used to host large parties back in the nineteen fifties when Owen’s grandfather was entertaining the county. Owen had hauled in twenty of his new picnic tables for the event.
And the Wild Judiths were going to perform. With a fiddler.
And without Jake Hove.
Because, Aurora thought for the hundredth time, Jake Hove wasn’t coming back. She hadn’t heard from him in three days, though he and Winter texted every morning. Had he regretted their romance? Found the bright lights of Austin more appealing than Willing? Been swept up with the glamour of his famous friends’ lifestyles? Forgotten that tonight was the big night they’d been rehearsing for? They had special songs to do together, and he’d forgotten. Or no longer cared.
Was he already regretting living in Willing? Was he regretting getting involved with someone who wasn’t part of his musician’s lifestyle? The thought hurt. She was also nauseous. And having trouble breathing.
“We don’t want to be late.” Winter picked up the basket of cookies she’d helped bake with Lucia. She also grabbed a grocery sack filled with bags of potato chips.
“No, we don’t want to be late,” Aurora said, wishing she could be sick in private. She slowed her breathing and prayed for rain. Rain would stop the concert. She couldn’t possibly perform in the rain, not even under a tarp. The Pietro couldn’t take the dampness.
“I’m so glad it’s sunny!” This was from Winter, who wore one of Aurora’s designer T-shirts and a pair of denim shorts.
“Bring your hoodie, just in case,” Aurora told her. “The weather can change in an instant.”
Please let it change in an instant.
The construction crew was still working when she and Winter left out the front door. They’d been joining the new construction to the old building and, along with entertaining the female tourists by waving and posing for photos, had been at the site since seven. Tomorrow they would knock a hole in the wall of the Dahl and begin the process of joining the two spaces.
“I wish Jake was here,” Winter said, scrambling to keep up with Aurora as they walked down the sidewalk. “He was
supposed to sing.”
He was supposed to do a lot of things, like keep in touch.
Return.
Live happily ever after with Aurora Jones.
Aurora kept silent, gripping the handle of the violin case, as they made their way to the park.
“Wow,” Jerry said, coming toward them. He wore a bright blue Willing to Wed T-shirt and khaki slacks. The sunglasses were pure Hollywood, as was the gelled hair, his red curls slicked back from his freckled forehead. “I heard rumors that you could play the fiddle,” he said, eyeing the case. “I find that frightening.”
“I imagine you find talent of any kind intimidating,” she retorted. “Considering.”
“Very funny, Aurora. Along with my people skills, of which you have none, I have talents you will never know about.”
“To that I say—thank God.”
He turned to Winter. “We’ll miss your father tonight, but I hear he’s busy in Texas.”
“Yes,” the girl said with a sigh. “He’s singing with Garth Brooks.”
Jerry’s eyebrows rose and he glanced meaningfully at Aurora’s violin case. “How can you compete with Garth?”
“I can’t even begin to try,” she drawled. She eyed Jerry’s hair. “I see you’ve gone all Hollywood on us.”
He grinned. “Some of the crew came back into town for the party. And some of the ladies, too.”
“I know. Everyone was in the Dahl Saturday night.”
“Yeah, but more came in yesterday.” His face clouded. “But not Tracy.”
“She wasn’t worthy of you,” Aurora assured him seriously. “I mean that.”
She had the uncomfortable sensation of actually having something in common with the man: rejection.
Mike, with his beaming fiancée in tow, hurried up. “We’re gonna be famous after tonight, I think.”
“Maybe you’ll have one of those televised weddings,” Aurora said, greeting Cora. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in your shop yet. I hear you opened this weekend.”
“Thanks. And stop in anytime.” She glanced at Aurora’s boots. “I have some very cool vintage Tony Lamas you might like. Size nine?”
“Yes. How did you—”
“Is Jake back yet?” Mike interrupted.
“Not yet,” Jake’s daughter piped up. “He’s real busy in Austin right now with Blake Shelton and Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood.” Aurora noted that Winter’s accent had gone from British to drawling Montanan.
“Wow.” Mike looked impressed. “Well, have him get in touch. He only rented the apartment on a week-to-week basis, and I’ve got three different people who want to rent it with a year lease. I need to know what his plans are.”
“Of course,” Aurora said, hiding her surprise. Week to week? She’d thought he’d rented for the year, or at least the entire summer. She didn’t want to believe that he was just enjoying a temporary fling with the local bar owner, whispering secrets and words of love while taking advantage of free child care.
No, she didn’t want to believe that. She really didn’t.
But then again, maybe she had no choice but to face the truth?
* * *
“JUST BECAUSE HE’S not here doesn’t mean he’s not coming back,” Meg insisted. Lucia stood next to her and nodded.
“Of course he’s coming back,” her other friend said. “His daughter is here.”
“He seems so distant on the phone,” Aurora tried to explain. She held a burger in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other. “Like he barely knows me. As if he’s gone home. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I’ll ask Sam,” Lucia said. “When he gets back.”
“I didn’t know he was gone,” Meg said. “Is he filming somewhere awful again?”
“No.” Lucia laughed. “He’s meeting with a publisher in New York about a series of children’s books. Educational, nonfiction books about the strange fish he’s seen in the Amazon and around the world.”
“That sounds like something Sam would be really good at.” Aurora looked over at Winter, who despite her broken arm was leading the Swallow boys around the small park. She’d taken photos of herself with the statue of the bull and sent them to her friend in London before eating two hamburgers, a hot dog and half a bag of potato chips. She’d declared she loved America and then polished off three of her own cookies before bossing around Lucia’s children.
“Winter has adapted quite well,” Meg said.
“She’s a strong child.”
“And she’s lucky to have you,” Aurora’s friend declared. “Jake did a good thing by coming here.”
“My future brother-in-law has excellent taste.” Lucia gave Aurora a quick hug. “Don’t give up on him just yet.”
Lucia hurried off to supervise her children, leaving Meg and Aurora watching the Wild Judiths assemble the sound equipment on the makeshift stage.
“So, you’re going to play tonight?”
Aurora gulped. “Jake and I had some songs worked out.”
“But you’ll play, anyway,” Meg said. “I hope. Lucia says you’re wonderful.”
“I used to be,” she confided, wondering why she was keeping her past a secret now. “I was a soloist. A child prodigy. A star.”
“I’m not surprised. You do still have that star quality.” Meg helped herself to another cookie. She looked down at Aurora’s boots. “I mean, the crystals on the fancy cowboy boots are impressive.”
“I always liked to look good onstage,” Aurora admitted. “I wore a diamond cuff bracelet that looked great under the lights. How are you feeling these days?”
Meg blushed. “I’m a little sick to my stomach and I’m no longer drinking coffee, but that’s our secret, right? At least for a few more weeks until I see my doctor and know that everything is okay? I don’t want Owen getting his hopes up before—”
“I won’t say a word.”
“Thanks. And to heck with Jake Hove,” Meg said, waving her cookie toward the stage. “You don’t need him to get up there and knock ’em dead. You can do that all by yourself!”
And that’s exactly what she did. One hour and ten minutes later, with the finale due to begin in seventeen minutes on the large-screen televisions placed around the park, Aurora and her violin brought the house down, exactly as they’d planned. They played Jake’s songs, with the lead guitarist and the drummer sharing the vocals. Aurora played every song they’d rehearsed, including the haunting “Midnight on the Water” with Hip’s bass accompaniment that she loved so much.
Her version of “Orange Blossom Special,” practiced for hours each day, was to have been a surprise for Jake. The Wild Judiths were prepared, having been sworn to secrecy at the last two band practices. The crowd whistled, stomped their feet in the grass, hollered their appreciation and applauded for long minutes while Aurora took several bows.
Carnegie Hall had nothing on the Willing Town Square.
Aurora took one last bow, her violin tucked under her arm, her bow dangling from her index finger. Her flowing yellow dress whipped around her knees as the wind began to pick up. She looked past the crowd and toward the bar and wished Jake had been there to see this.
And she saw smoke.
Smoke?
She couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. Shock took her voice, but she pointed, stricken, to the stream of black smoke pouring into the darkening sky.
“Fire,” she heard the drummer announce.
“Fire!” echoed through the microphones and blasted from the huge speakers.
“Fire,” Aurora croaked, then asked the question she was so afraid she already knew the answer to. “Where is the fire?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“WINTER IS SAFE,” Lucia assured Jake. “Aurora is safe. They were in the p
ark when the fire started.”
He stood on South Congress on the cracked sidewalk outside the Continental Club. The Monday night happy hour had just finished and he was about to get a slice of pizza and walk back to the Austin Motel.
“Jake? Can you hear me?”
He cleared his throat. A fire. They both could have been killed. “I hear you.”
“Where are you? Why aren’t you back?”
“How are they? Where were they?”
“At the party. In the park. Tonight was the finale of the show, remember?”
He didn’t. He almost dropped the phone, recovering it before it slipped out of his fingers and onto the cement. Winter had been texting details, but he thought it was next week. Next week.
Lucia continued. “They think it was from the construction. Something about a blowtorch, smoldering old wood, I don’t know. Half of the Dahl’s second story is gone.”
“Where are they now?” He had to call, had to hear their voices, had to reassure himself that they were all right.
“They’re with Meg. I want them to stay with us tonight, but they might stay at your apartment. Although Winter doesn’t want to sleep on the second floor of that old building, and I don’t blame her.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he promised. “I have some things to wrap up.” He paused, but Lucia said nothing. “Can I talk to Sam?”
“He’s in New York, remember?”
He hadn’t remembered that, either.
“I’ll get back,” he said. “Soon.”
“I hope so, Jake.” And then Lucia hung up. Without saying goodbye in her normally sweet voice, he noted. He tried dialing Aurora, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Same with Winter’s phone.
He wasn’t used to having to account to anyone for his whereabouts, but he liked it, when he remembered. He loved listening to his daughter talk about what she was doing and how her cast itched. He loved the sound of Aurora’s voice, though he wanted her so much he immediately grew tongue-tied when she spoke.
He couldn’t see her face when she talked to him.
He hated that.
There was so much to tell her, and yet she had lost her home and her business. Or come close to losing it. She wouldn’t want to hear about his. Not yet.
The Husband Show Page 21