Bobby stared at her, then tilted his head back and laughed. “You must be good in front of a jury,” he said. “You just talked to me in a complete circle.”
Carol smiled and picked up the violin and bow. “Don’t ever try to win an argument with me, Bobby. I do it for a living.”
“I actually wasn’t arguing with you, Darlin’. You were doing the talking for both of us.” He leaned forward until his face was close to hers.
“And I didn’t say you won. I just said you were good,” he said in his slow drawl. He kissed the tip of her nose and sat back on the swing, lying back down in his earlier position.
Carol took a shaky breath, straightened her back as she tucked the violin under her chin, and raised the bow. Then she began to play.
The sky darkened as the sweet sounds filled the air. She kept her eyes closed, picturing the notes she needed to play, then eventually just letting her hands and heart take over from her mind.
At some point, she opened her eyes and caught him sitting straight up, staring at her with such an intense expression, almost an angry look, that it took her breath away. She felt the air crackle around them and felt a bit unsteady at the energy his stare possessed. Escaping back into the song, she closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was alone.
She finally played the last song, and the notes drifted into the night air long after she put the bow down. The apprehension she’d felt about playing in front of someone who had been lauded as one of the best fiddle players on the Nashville scene had disappeared sometime in the middle of her impromptu recital. She’d always wanted the gift of music, had dreamed of it since her first lesson on the instrument, but it had never come to her the way it had manifested in Bobby. Instead, she developed a practiced skill as opposed to cultivating a natural gift.
She rolled her neck on her shoulders and straightened and stretched her arm. It had gone stiff from being held in the same position for so long. She lifted her ice tea and took a long swallow, taking her time before she faced him. Then she turned her head, catching her breath at the look on his face. The light coming from the house was shining directly on him, and his blue eyes were intense, boring straight through her.
Carol’s pulse picked up, and the air crackled around them. She felt a shiver run through her that carried something she couldn’t define.
The memories suddenly bombarded her, and she felt herself flush with the thoughts, felt her pulse begin to race. For years, she’d kept so many thoughts at bay, but now they collapsed forward in her mind. She thought of the first time she’d ever seen him, how giddy she felt whenever she could be near him, how listening to him play the violin in school had done strange things to her heart rate. She thought about the first time she’d kissed him. Then she thought of the last time she’d kissed him.
She stood and ran suddenly shaking hands down the sides of her skirt. “Thank you for letting me play your violin. I’ve always wanted to.” Bobby didn’t respond, but his eyes followed her every movement. “I need to go home now,” she said, bending to pick up her phones from the porch. She slipped them into her pocket.
“Why?” he asked. His voice sounded low, gravelly.
Carol took a step backward. “I have to work.”
Bobby stood and walked toward her. “It’s Friday night, counselor. You spent all day at a funeral. Take the night off.”
“I took the day off, remember?” Carol took another step back, trying to keep him from closing the distance. She felt the back of her leg hit the leaves of a bush, and knew she had reached the edge of the porch. If she took another step back, she would fall down into the bushes. Bobby took the final step toward her, closing the distance. She had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.
He reached out and ran a strand of her hair around one of his fingers. Carol knew hair didn’t have nerve endings, but she swore she could feel the touch all the way to her toes. He leaned close, until his lips were just a whisper above hers. “Thank you for spending the evening with me.”
His low voice vibrated around her and through her. She framed his face with her hands and looked straight into his eyes. “I need to say something,” she said, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I have a knee-jerk reaction of not trusting you born of nearly nine years of a broken heart. But, despite that, I find myself getting swept away, much like before. But this time, I’m not the only one who will be affected if you take off and don’t look back.”
His arm snaked around her waist. “Quit expecting the worst of me, Carol. And understand that this,” he said, squeezing her closer to him, “is good, and right, and has nothing to do with our daughter and everything to do with us.”
He gave her a soft, slow kiss that she felt unfurl from her lips down to her ankles. Before she could even think of reacting, he stepped away. “Go home, beautiful Carol. I enjoyed listening to you play more than you even realize.”
CHAPTER 21
Personal Journal Entry
May 5
I’ve tried to placate him over and over. I’ve tried to mollify him. I’ve even tried to bargain with him and threaten him, but it does no good. Every time he speaks to me it’s all about her. That intolerable voice yelling her name. The last one went so wrong. He says she doesn’t count. But it was his fault. I gave her to him. I practically gift wrapped her. It was all his fault. He tries to blame me or blame her but it was all on him.
Maybe, maybe I can give him another. Maybe I can hold him off. Maybe I can distract him from her for a while. At least for a little while longer.
I’m not ready to lose her yet.
Saturday, May 5
BOBBY lifted Lisa onto the saddle and adjusted the stirrups. He ran a hand down Josey’s flank, then swung himself into Jupiter’s saddle. As they left the corral, the door to the house opened, and Bobby clenched his jaw but turned in that direction. Josey docilely followed behind.
“Mom. How are you feeling this morning?” he inquired from horseback. His mother looked like a wreck, and she still wore the same dress she’d worn yesterday, the day of the funeral.
“Time heals, Bobby. I was hoping Carol was with you,” Harriet said.
Bobby shook his head. “She had to work this morning.”
“I wanted to apologize to her. I’m afraid I’ve been way out of line for years now. I suddenly realized about three this morning what a horrible person I’ve been. I would like to talk to her, Bobby.”
He watched his mother swallow a few times, her eyes staring at the ground. “I need to tell her what a good job she’s done,” she finally said, ending on a sob. She put her hand over her mouth to try to hold her emotion back.
“I’ll be sure to give her the message, mom.” His voice sounded perfectly flat, utterly without emotion. He felt a tug, fought it, then gave in. He let his voice warm. “Lisa and I are going to take the back trail.”
He turned Jupiter, but then quickly reigned in and waited while Lisa jumped off the horse and gave her grandmother a hug. Harriet hugged her back, then helped her granddaughter back into the saddle. She stood on the porch and watched the two of them ride way.
A weekly tabloid was thrown on top of the brief Carol was trying to read, and the picture on the front was her hugging Bobby Kent outside the church the day before. The headline read, “Bobby Kent’s Secret Love Child!” The subtitle read, “Love Child’s Mom Chases Richmond Red!”
Carol shook her head. The print setter must have had everything ready in advance, just waiting on the picture from one of the paparazzi before going to press. She looked up and saw Rhonda standing there with her arms crossed.
“Can you believe they would invade your privacy like this?” Rhonda demanded.
Carol picked up the paper and put it in the trash can. “I have a feeling it will get worse before it gets better,” she said. She would have to be more wary of presenting such easy photo opportunities in the future. “Why are you here on a Saturday?”
“It’s quiet here. No phones. No paralegals. I can
work and not be bothered. You?”
“Exactly,” Carol agreed. “I feel like I can’t get anything done during the day anymore.”
“Well, you’re getting harassed by the big case on top of everything else. That has to be breaking into any quiet time.” Rhonda stepped out the door but paused and looked back. “Want to catch lunch later?”
Already back into her brief, Carol’s brain registered the question and she looked up. “Lunch? Oh, no thanks. I have plans later. I’m just working through the morning.”
Rhonda smiled. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Enjoy the quiet.”
“You too,” said Carol.
BOBBY kept Jupiter from running because Lisa rode beside him, but the horse practically vibrated with the desire to let go and fly. He almost wished he hadn’t picked this horse to ride, because by the time they finished the trail, he had to fight him to keep him under control.
Lisa handled Josey well, and he felt proud of the way she sat in the saddle. She explained to him on their way back that Robert had her in a saddle before she could walk, and her mom had often let her come out to ride.
Bobby smiled. His father had put him in a saddle before he could walk, too. He felt a small tug at the thought. As they left the woods and entered the clearing, he spotted Daniel Phillips, the foreman of the ranch, coming out of the barn that held the foals and their mothers. At Bobby’s shout, he waited until they reached him, then nodded to Bobby’s request and took Josey’s reins.
“I’ll be right back, Lisa. Jupiter needs to breeze. Help Daniel brush Josey down,” he said.
Then he turned Jupiter, loosened his grip on the reins, and let him go. He bent down low over the animal’s thick neck as they flew across the pasture, feeling the powerful muscles under his legs working to eat up the ground as fast as he could. He was a racehorse, built and bred for speed, and would have been one of the best if Bobby had hired a trainer. But he picked Jupiter out for his personal use, not to race, and he’d turned out to be one of the best horses Bobby had ever ridden. He’d missed riding him over the last few months while he’d been on tour.
As he rode, he shed the week he’d just had. All the funeral arrangements and tears, the sounds of Lisa crying herself to sleep. Seeing his mother a while ago just made it all converge into one horrible nightmare, so he pushed Jupiter, thinking he could shed the week with every beat of the horse’s hooves.
He turned him around when he lost sight of the ranch buildings, and though he wasn’t ready to go back yet, Jupiter complied. He seemed to know that this was the end of the trail, so he gave it all he had and ran as fast as he could. Bobby just let him go, not reining him in until it was either jump the stable, or run into it.
He turned Jupiter and let him walk around to cool off while Daniel gave a low whistle. “That is about the finest horse I’ve ever seen, Bobby,” he said, tilting his hat back on his head and looking up. “I thought he was good looking when he was delivered the other day, but if I’d known he could run like that, I’d have snuck him out of the stable and given him a gallop myself.”
Bobby swung out of the saddle and handed the reins over to Daniel with a laugh. “He is a fine horse. Dad and I talked briefly about a month ago about breeding him with Carly. I’d still like to see that happen,” he said.
“Be a good match. She’s nearly ready now,” he said.
Bobby nodded and spotted Lisa just inside the door, standing on a stool so she could reach Josey’s back with the brush.
“About ready to go, Sugar?” he asked. She looked up with a smile and nodded.
“THAT smells good,” Carol said, coming around the side of Bobby’s house. He stood at the grill turning chicken on the rotisserie spit while Lisa and Amy played on a swing set in the corner of the yard. Carol watched them, then turned to see Bobby watching her. “Go shopping today?” she asked, gesturing at the swing set.
“I was corralled. She begged and pleaded, and I ended up falling for the sales pitch and bought the super deluxe model. Took two men from the store two hours to put it together,” he explained with a chuckle.
“You’re forgiven,” she said. She walked up beside him, close enough that their elbows occasionally brushed, watching his hands as they turned the chicken. “So, who’s Heather Dean?”
“A friend and probably one of the best banjo players alive today.” Bobby never missed a beat. Then he grinned and met her gaze. “Why do you ask?”
Carol shrugged, a smile hinting at the corner of her mouth. “A reporter asked me if you two were still seeing each other.”
Bobby winked at her. “One dance at an awards party, and you’re suddenly engaged and planning six kids.” He brushed sauce onto the chicken. “I don’t know, though.”
His eyes went far away, as if pondering. Carol asked, “Don’t know what?”
Bobby met her gaze. “Well, if she and I could have six kids who could play banjo like her…” He couldn’t keep a straight face and broke out in a toothy smile.
Carol just raised an eyebrow but she couldn’t hide her dimples at his teasing. “You already have a daughter, mister.”
Bobby nodded. “I have a daughter. What a blessing.” He stirred the coals and said, “That Heather story is probably mild in comparison. You should have seen what they wrote about me and Melody before she got married.”
“Oh, I did,” she said with a smile. “I used to sit up nights with a teething Lisa and read all about you and Melody Mason’s future as the darlings of country music. I’m pretty sure I still have your photos on some dart board somewhere.” She leaned over and smelled the chicken, her mouth watering from the smell. “What do you have to go with this?”
“Well, I was thinking that what would really go with this is whatever you can find in the kitchen to make.”
Carol started laughing, then surprised herself by giving him a quick kiss. “Let me go to my house. I know what’s there. I’ll be back in about thirty minutes,” she said. She started to walk away, but Bobby grabbed her arm and pulled her to him for a longer kiss, then let her go again. She stuck her hands in her pockets and walked to her house, listening to the sounds of Lisa and Amy’s giggles following her.
“I don’t mind taking her to church tomorrow, Lori, if you don’t think you’ll feel up to going,” Carol said. “We can walk over now and get some clothes for her.”
“I sure appreciate it, Carol. I didn’t think I could feel worse, then this afternoon, it hit me. Why did I get pregnant again?”
“Have you talked to your doctor yet?”
“I called him, but he told me it was just hormones, and gave me the whole spiel about how good it is to be sick, blah, blah, blah,” she said. Her voice grew weaker as they talked.
“Get some rest, and we’ll be over in an hour. We’ll finish eating. Do you need anything else?”
“No. You’re doing plenty, thanks Carol.” She hung up the phone, and Carol picked her fork back up.
“Was that my mom?” Amy asked.
“Yup. She’s feeling sick again,” Carol said.
“Jeremy Bunford rode the bus home with me yesterday because his mom had her nail appointment, or something like that, and he threw up all over the bus. Mom had to take his temperature for him and everything,” Amy said around a barbecued drumstick.
Carol looked at Amy. “So your mom has the ’flu.” Amy shrugged, and Carol picked the phone back up to call Lori.
She spoke to her quickly, and told her to call her doctor. She found out that Amy’s dad was due back in town Sunday night, so Carol told Lori that she would keep Amy until then, and that Amy could wear some of Lisa’s clothes to church. Carol hung up the phone, hoping that Amy wasn’t carrying the bug. She had a full plate at the moment, and didn’t need a round of stomach ’flu to go with it.
MICHELLE Lewis stretched her back and leaned against the enclosed smoking area outside of the medical center. She never smoked during her shift. She knew the patients could smell it a mile away, and didn’t want to add
to their distress. But, that first cigarette right after a long shift like this one – she drew deeply on the filter and held the smoke in for just a moment, then slowly let it out. That first off the clock cigarette was the best one of the day.
She looked at her watch. The bus was running late today, and that annoyed her. She longed to get home, strip out of her nurse’s uniform, and slip into a hot bubble bath.
“Got a light?”
She turned her head and looked into the most intriguing blue eyes she’d ever seen. The handsome man with the black goatee and baseball cap covering his dark hair smiled flirtatiously as he held his cigarette up.
“Sure,” Michelle said, pulling her lighter out of her pocket. Instead of taking it from her, he put the cigarette in his mouth and waited. She lit the lighter, and he cupped her hand in both of his while he guided the flame to the tip of his cigarette.
Even after she extinguished the flame, he didn’t let go of her hands. He kept eye contact and held her hand between his two warm palms. “Thank you…?”
He left the sentence hanging, waiting for her to fill it in. “Michelle,” she whispered, losing herself in his eyes.
“Michelle. Such a beautiful name for such a beautiful woman. Thank you, Michelle.”
Michelle grinned and, emboldened, asked, “What’s your name?”
CHAPTER 22
CAROL put the last plate in the dishwasher, then went through the house, following the sound of music until she found Bobby and the girls. They were in what used to be the Westbury’s den, but now was some sort of a music room.
Bobby had been busy over the past week. A piano stood in the corner where a large window replaced a wall once covered in bone colored wallpaper. In various cases and shelves along three of the walls, he opted to display different stringed instruments ranging from the antique to the ultra modern. Framed photographs of Bobby with different famous people, including two presidents, intermingled with gold and platinum albums graced one wall. The carpet had been ripped out, and in its place was a gleaming hardwood floor.
A Carol for Kent Page 17