Deleted

by Tess Thompson

“I’m a total snob, so you’re in good hands,” Honor said.

  “Wait, there’s one more thing. I have to get her a dress.”

  “Oh no. You leave that to Kara and me. Finding the perfect dress is a job for a woman. What would she like, do you think?”

  He thought for a moment. What had her dress looked like back then? Shiny and flowy. He seemed to recall sparkles. “She likes feminine but kind of simple since she’s so tiny. The one she had was cut like this.” He gestured at his waist to indicate a full skirt.

  “A-line?”

  “Yeah, sure. I think so. All I know is she looked like a princess in it. The most beautiful princess in the world.”

  Honor’s eyes misted over. “Oh, Jackson, if only I had a man who loved me like you love Maggie.”

  He looked at her, surprised. Honor wasn’t usually so vulnerable. “You could have one, you know. If you’d let anyone in.”

  “You sound like Kara,” Honor said.

  “Did you ever go to your prom?”

  “Me. God no. I could never afford a dress, even if someone had asked me.”

  If he had to force him, Jackson was getting Zane Shaw to ask this pretty girl right in front of him to the prom. It might be just what they needed.

  “But you can afford a dress now,” Jackson said. “Think of all you’ve accomplished, all on your own.”

  “Not exactly on my own. I have Brody to thank. And, the rest of you Dogs for always looking out for me. Until I came here, I didn’t know there were good men out there.”

  “Doesn’t take away all your hard work,” he said.

  “Stop it. You’re going to make me cry and I don’t want to smear my makeup.” She waved her hand in front of her eyes. “I’ll send an evite to everyone tonight. The ladies will need a chance to get dresses.”

  “Thanks for doing this,” he said.

  “You kidding? I live for stuff like this.” She waved the list in the air. “I’ve got to run. Kara and I have no time to waste.”

  After Honor left, Jackson found his dad downstairs in his study.

  “Good, it’s you.” His father set aside the book in his lap. “There’s something I wanted to talk with you about.”

  Jackson took the seat in the chair opposite. “What’s up?”

  “Couple things. One is I’d like your permission to ask Janet to marry me.”

  He stared at his father for a moment. “You don’t need my permission, Dad.” Jackson hesitated. Should he say something about Brody? While he was deciding, his dad beat him to it.

  “I went out and saw Brody earlier. To ask his permission, so to speak.”

  “How’d that go?”

  “Remarkably well. Kara’s done a good job of softening him to the idea.”

  Jackson smiled, imagining the conversation she must have had with Brody. “She has a gift that way.”

  “Brody asked me to take good care of her, which of course, I will. But he said something else that really touched me. He told me how much his father liked me, and that he often told him that I was the type of man to emulate. He said his father would approve of Janet and me—that I was one of the only men he would have deemed good enough for Janet.”

  “Dad, that’s really nice. Wow.”

  “Brody also said that he feels that way about you. That he will tell his own children, if you want to see a good man, look at Jackson Waller.” His father choked up. “That made me prouder than I can express.”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Jackson examined his hands, embarrassed.

  “Like men, we’ll move onto another topic. I’m fairly certain Janet’s going to say yes, and we want to spend some time traveling together before the grandchildren start arriving.”

  “Yeah?”

  “And that means I need to retire for real. No more of this half-time stuff. Janet’s ready to go wherever and whenever. I want to be too. With Kara at the office, you don’t need me. The two of you can run it together.”

  Jackson wanted to be supportive of his dad’s plans, but the whole idea had been for them to practice together for a few years before he retired for good. His disappointment must have shown on his face.

  “I’m sorry my plans have changed, Son. But I think it’s all for the best. Kara coming here was the catalyst for many things. Janet and me. The fact that you don’t need me at the office. It’s futile to resist change. When we try, it makes everything that much worse.”

  “Do you think that’s what you did after Mom died?”

  “Maybe. I remember a deep sense of wanting everything to be exactly as she left it, which is absurd when you think about it.”

  “Dad, you grieved in your own way. And now, finally, you have a chance to be happy with someone else. I’m going to miss the idea of us, but truthfully, you’re right. We shouldn’t resist change just because we had an idea of something. Whatever is coming might be that much better.”

  “For one, you won’t have your old man bossing you around at work.”

  Jackson smiled. “If I can be half the doctor and father you’ve been, I’ll be happy.”

  “Well, now, let’s not get carried away.”

  “I have something to tell you too. I’m going to propose to Maggie.” He told his dad about his idea for the prom.

  “I always felt terrible you two missed yours.”

  “I need to scramble to get a ring.” He chuckled. “I’m hoping they’ll let me exchange the one I got for Sharon. Maggie will want something more traditional, don’t you think?”

  “Funny you should mention that.” His father crossed the room and opened a desk drawer, from which he took out a small velvet bag. “Inside are your mother’s rings. The ones I gave her on our tenth wedding anniversary. When we got married the first time I could barely afford a plastic one.”

  Jackson loosened the top of the bag. The engagement ring was a two-carat princess cut diamond with tiny diamonds on the edges.

  “When your mother was dying, she asked me to save her rings for Maggie. She felt certain you’d marry sooner than later, and she wanted her to have them. That way, she said, a small part of her would be there for the wedding and with you as you made a life together. They would be good luck, too, because she’d been blessed with such a happy marriage.”

  So much for the pledge not to cry. Jackson couldn’t stop the tears that spilled from his eyes. “I can’t believe, after all this time, you can finally keep your promise to Mom.”

  “It’s been a circuitous route.”

  “I’m overwhelmed,” Jackson said. “Maggie will be too.”

  “There’s one more thing. Reach inside the bag. There’s a note hidden in there from Lily to Maggie. She’s supposed to read it on her wedding day, but I think you could go ahead and let her read it when you propose.”

  “May I?” Jackson asked. Was it for Maggie’s eyes only?

  “Lily never said, so I think we’re good. Read it aloud.”

  Jackson cleared his throat. If he could get through this without breaking down, it would be a miracle. “Dear Maggie. If you’re reading this…”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Maggie

  * * *

  MAGGIE HELD HER breath when she knocked on the back door of her father’s house. Darla answered seconds later. She looked like she’d aged ten years. The skin under Darla’s eyes looked like raw dough. A wave of pity went through Maggie.

  “What do you want?”

  “May I come in? I want to talk to you.”

  “Fine.” Darla stepped aside so she could enter.

  Dishes were stacked on the counters, and the air smelled like rotting bananas and stale coffee grounds.

  “I found her. The baby. My sister.”

  Darla stared at her hands. “Yeah?”

  “She’s good. She’s had a great life. A great family adopted her. I can’t help but feel gratitude toward you for saving her life.”

  “They rich?”

  “As far as I can tell. What does that matter?”
Maggie asked.

  “It doesn’t. But it figures.”

  “How’s he doing?” Maggie asked.

  “Not good. In and out.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “It’ll just upset him.” Darla’s voice wavered.

  “Would it surprise you to know I don’t care?”

  A muscle at the left of Darla’s mouth twitched. “Please don’t tell him about the girl.”

  “Why? He can’t hurt you now.”

  Darla crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “It’s not that. I don’t want him to know he didn’t kill her.”

  Maggie stared at her. “I don’t get it.”

  “He doesn’t deserve to be let off the hook.”

  “That’s a change.”

  Darla nodded. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. You know, about why I was with him. Feeling like crap about yourself isn’t really an excuse to do bad things.”

  “As far as the baby goes, you did the only decent thing you could,” Maggie said. “You’re not the only woman who loved Roger Keene and accepted less than you deserved. You’re not the only one who was afraid of him.”

  Darla rubbed under her eyes. “I can’t sleep. I’m awake all night wondering why I let him do what he did. To me, that is.”

  “Has he hurt you?”

  “Sure. He didn’t save that brand of love for just your mother.”

  “You’re almost free. And he’ll go where he belongs,” Maggie said.

  “I’m sorry about your mother. She didn’t deserve what happened to her.”

  “Abused women never do. Including you.”

  “I wasted my whole life,” Darla said. “For a man who never loved me.”

  “He can’t love anyone. That’s on him, not you.”

  “I suppose you’ll take the house from me,” Darla said.

  Maggie thought for a moment before answering. What had Darla ever had of her own? “I don’t want the house. There’s nothing but bad memories for me here. You can live here as long as you like. When you move on, I’ll take it back.”

  “It was your family’s house. Doesn’t feel right.”

  “Think of it as a thank you for bringing my sister to me.”

  “Thank you.” Darla looked away. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

  “I should see him now. This’ll be the last time. I want to say goodbye.”

  Darla led her down the hallway to the living room. He was in the bed with his eyes closed.

  “Roger, Maggie’s here,” Darla said.

  She still loves him. I can hear it in her voice.

  Her dad’s eyes fluttered open. “You came back?”

  “I came to say goodbye.”

  “You going somewhere?” he asked.

  “No. But you are.”

  “That, yes.”

  “I’ll never forgive you for the things you’ve done, but I’m not going to let you destroy my life any longer. I’m going to live a good, full life despite of all the ways you tried to destroy it. Not one single person will be sad you’re gone. Me, on the other hand? I have so much love. So much to live for. Consider my living well the ultimate revenge.”

  He fluttered his fingers. “Get out. You ungrateful girl. I did everything for you and this is the thanks I get?”

  “Goodbye, Roger Keene. May you rot in hell.”

  Maggie arrived at the Woods’ home around ten the next morning. She grabbed her portfolio and guitar from the back of the car and headed up the walkway. Birds chirped in the maple tree as she knocked on the front door. A good sign. Good wishes from her bird friends. Micky opened the door and invited her inside.

  He gave her a quick hug before getting right to business. “Let’s head on down to the studio. My staff’s waiting for us.”

  She followed Micky down steep stairs to the basement level of the house as he explained how he’d built the studio and made it soundproof. “The kids were still little when I built it, so there was a lot of racket going on up there. Nothing can penetrate this place.”

  When they arrived downstairs, Micky introduced her to Carlos, his sound technician. Carlos made up for the lack of hair on his shiny head with a bushy beard that touched the collar of his shirt. A young woman with spiked pink hair and tattoos on every inch of her arms waved to them from inside the recording booth.

  Maggie had been in a recording studio before for voiceover work, but never one as sophisticated as this. Micky Woods didn’t mess around.

  When the young woman joined them, Micky introduced her as Lena Wheeler. “Lena works with our artists most intimately, both on the music itself as well as your brand and career direction.”

  “If we decide to sign you, we can help you find the right manager, publicist, and agent as well. We know who’s good in this business and who isn’t.” Lena’s articulate and resonate way of speaking surprised Maggie. She looked like she belonged on the back of a Harley. “From what Micky said, you don’t have much experience in this side of show business. We’re a family here. Unlike a bigger studio with lots of artists, we don’t take many on, but the ones we do get our full attention. We win when our artists win.”

  “I’ve been in New York, mostly in chorus girl roles on Broadway,” Maggie said. “I studied musical theatre at NYU. We had a lot of vocal training, obviously. But I’ve also worked with vocal coaches over the years. Some of the best.”

  “Cool beans, Chica,” Lena said. “I prefer to work with people who have formal training. No matter if they want to sing rock and roll or opera, technique always shows in your voice. That said, singers who come from musical theatre usually can’t transfer to pop music.”

  “I’ve sung in a lot of bars and coffee shops,” Maggie said. That familiar feeling from auditions washed over her. Directors and casting agents loved to make you sweat. How bad do you want it? Can you defend yourself? Heck yes, she could. She’d been a New Yorker for twelve years. Be tough. I can do this. I have the chops. This is finally my chance to prove it to someone who can actually take me somewhere.

  “Micky tells me you’re kind of Norah Jones meets Trisha Yearwood,” Lena said. “Which, if true, makes me wonder when you sold your soul to the devil.”

  “Micky’s kind to say so,” Maggie said.

  “Kindness doesn’t mean a flying squirrel in this business. It’s all about the delivery. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Micky, who had been fiddling with the equipment over with Carlos, looked up at them. “Lena, just have a seat. Maggie’s got this nailed.” He indicated for Maggie to follow him into the recording booth. Once inside, he lowered his voice. “Don’t mind her. She’s just testing you to see if you’re tough enough. Once she hears you sing, she’s going to be all over you. Now, I want you to choose one of your original songs and just play and sing like you did last night in front of the crowd.”

  He spoke into the microphone. “She’s going to sing an original with just her guitar.”

  Lena nodded as she sat on one of the tall chairs next to the equipment.

  This is happening. This is really happening.

  “You been in one of these before?” Micky asked.

  “Once or twice for voiceover work,” Maggie said.

  “Good. Then you know what to do.”

  A glass window encased the front of the booth so that she could see out to the engineer. As she took a seat on the stool, Micky adjusted a sophisticated looking microphone to the proper distance and level. “Sing Deleted,” he said. “Lena won’t know what to do with herself when she hears the vocals on that one.”

  “Whatever you say, boss,” she said.

  “Just nice and easy.” Micky handed her a set of headphones. “Like you did last night. No reason to change a thing. Be you. Let it show through the music. Remember, you’re good enough just as you are.”

  “Great. Thanks.” If she could sing without shaking. As Micky stepped through the door, Maggie adjusted a few strings to get control of her nerves. Whatever she did
, she must not show how jumpy she was. Pull out the old acting skills.

  As if she were here, Lisa appeared in her imagination and repeated her favorite saying.

  Be myself. Everyone else is taken.

  This one’s for you, Lisa.

  Maggie slipped the headphones over her ears. Outside of the booth, Sophie bounded into the room and flashed her wide smile. “Good luck,” she mouthed.

  Buoyed by her sister’s face, she took in a deep, centering breath. Sing for all the women in my life. Sophie and Lisa. Mama and Lily up in heaven. Maggie played the beginning chord on her guitar. Sing for Jackson.

  From the other side of the glass, Micky gave her the thumbs up.

  Maggie leaned into the microphone and began to sing.

  I danced under a fallen moon,

  And wondered where were...

  When she finished, she glanced out to the studio. Sophie clapped and bounced up and down on her toes. Micky gave her the thumbs up. Carlos was bent over the equipment moving dials.

  Lena had uncrossed her arms, but her facial expression was as stoic as before Maggie had started singing.

  Micky pushed a button and his voice came through to the booth. “You did great, kid. Sing another. One of your originals, but with the piano this time.”

  Maggie set aside her guitar and moved to the piano. Intimidated by the size and quality of the instrument, her hands shook. This was nothing like her keyboard at her apartment or the one at Zane’s bar. I can do this. I can do this.

  She played the opening notes to the song she’d written last week. It had come out of her in an hour, like it wrote itself. Lena stood against the wall with her tattooed arms crossed over her chest.

  I thought I saw you today,

  By the flowers near the bay.

  But it was only a reflection of the sea so blue,

  Not the you of me and you.

  Maggie looked out to where the others stood together by the equipment. As before, Sophie smiled and clapped. Micky motioned for Maggie to come outside of the booth. She did so.

  Sophie hugged her and whispered in her ear, “Lena’s impressed. I knew she would be.”