by Miles, Ava
And then J.P. had promptly made a few suggestions. Lawyer boy could make a person weep with his stories, either in court or on the radio, and with a stable full of country singers as clients, he shared his gift for words in both spheres.
Clayton and Georgia loved the new material too, and were delighted by the new image he was creating for himself. This was the new Rye, the one forged in fire in Meade, changed by his time with Tory and his new life with his family. This is what they’d been striving for all along with their various PR strategies.
It was hard not to think back to what Tory had said to him that last day in Memphis, urging him to integrate the different sides of his personality. He’d finally done it through music, as he’d always done, and it pained him that he couldn’t tell her about it.
Then he called his band into the studio, and Clayton and Georgia managed the process of creating his new album. It was a crazy, chaotic time.
But through it all, there was the underlying sense that something vital was missing.
His family could sense his lingering sensitivity because they still walked on eggshells around him, but either they’d gotten used to it or there were fewer shells. When Tammy casually showed him her ideas for the property over breakfast one day, her garden design blew his mind with its raised beds and koi pond and other water features. When he praised her, she thanked him and promptly fled the kitchen.
Amelia Ann simply crowed like a rooster about Vandy and started bringing new friends by to meet the family, which was awkward, since most of her friends swooned over him. But he was glad to see her happy, so had put up with the eyelash flutters and nervous giggles.
Late October was a bit late to plant, but they’d had a warm fall, so Rye told Tammy to go for it when she asked him. Crews dug up parts of his lawn to lay stone paths and fill in the new koi pond by the oak tree. When he asked if he could go fishing in it, it made her laugh—a beautiful sound.
Annabelle started going to a nearby pre–school a few days a week, making new friends as easily as Amelia Ann, but Rory said little about school or anything else, and he still refused to talk to Rye. Fortunately, he seemed glued to his growing puppy, whom he’d finally named Bandit. The kid didn’t even laugh when he joked about all their dogs’ names starting with B: Bullet, Banjo, Bandit, and Barbie.
But Annabelle did, bless her heart.
He walked along Dare River before dinner each night, taking a few moments for himself, and that was when he let himself brood about Tory. His regrets would rise up, fresh and raw, threatening to consume him.
He started babysitting, a word he hated since it didn’t involve much more than keeping an eye on the kids. Annabelle always challenged him, constantly telling him she was bored, and he was pretty proud of the games he’d invented to keep her occupied. With Tammy out at a Junior League meeting, a recent foray back into being social, today’s game was paying the kids a dollar for each bright red leaf they found scattered across the property. After he announced the challenge, Annabelle claimed she was going to make a million dollars. Rory just rolled his eyes and threw a stick to Bandit.
When Tammy came home and let herself onto the back porch, he was thrumming the strings of Old Faithful. She sat in the chair across from him, running a hand over the new outdoor furniture she’d picked out.
“How was your meeting?” he asked.
“Good. I recognized more faces today. There are some nice women there. I have two lunches scheduled next week.”
“That’s great,” he replied, wondering if any of the women had given her trouble over the article in the paper.
Her figure had finally stopped its slow decline to gaunt. In the first weeks after moving to Dare River, she’d barely eaten a thing. For that matter, neither had he. Desperate not to think about the reason for his lack of appetite, he turned to watch Annabelle stack her leaves neatly in a pile under the tree. She gave chase when a gust upended her neat arrangement.
“Hi, Mama. Uncle Rye, the wind’s ruining my pile,” she called across the lawn, clutching leaves to her rumpled green dress.
“Come and bring them to me, Annabelle. We’ll count them together.” Rye set his guitar aside.
“Do you have my kids picking up leaves, Rye?” Tammy asked with a small smile.
He puffed out his chest, delighted to have thought of it. Too bad no one had him playing that game when he was a kid. He would have done well for himself.
“Yeah, they get a dollar for every one they catch. Of course, Annabelle is cheating, but I’ll overlook that since she’s little. But we may need to work on it. If she’s cheatin’ at this age, she’ll be running us ragged by the time she graduates high school.”
When his sister’s face crumpled, he grew alarmed. Was she upset about this innocent game? “What’s the matter?”
“You said ‘us.’”
He realized he had, and that realization sent a powerful river flowing through his heart. “Of course I did, darlin’. I’ll…go help Annabelle.”
He darted away as she wiped a tear from her cheek.
“I’ll go make us some dinner,” Tammy called after him in a hoarse voice.
He didn’t want to eat, but he knew he had to. They ate as a family now. Tammy was trying even harder than he was to give Annabelle and Rory some semblance of a normal life.
He doled out ten dollars to Annabelle and fought a frown when Rory didn’t present him with any leaves. Well, he’d already guessed he wouldn’t be able to pay his way out of this situation.
Hadn’t Tory taught him you could never purchase someone’s affection?
***
Later that evening, he was nursing a glass of Jack Daniels on the porch when he heard Annabelle’s footsteps. The moon was a silver fingernail, so he couldn’t see anything but a small body. He smiled, waiting for what had become his favorite moment of the day—when she cuddled in his lap, and he sang her his new songs.
He was setting his glass aside when Rory came into focus a few yards away. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, he acknowledged the boy, knowing he wouldn’t get any greeting in return. “Rory.”
“I know Annabelle comes out here with you most nights,” the boy said quietly, and the shock of hearing his nephew finally speak to him caused his heart rate to speed up. “I told her you were in your studio tonight, so she fell asleep.”
Was this some new game? Perhaps Rory thought ignoring him wasn’t enough punishment, so he’d decided to deny him time with his favorite girl. Still, he asked, “Why tell her that?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Okay,” he mused, still not sure what to make of the situation. “It’s a nice night out. Sit a spell.”
“I want to stand.”
“Fine,” he said, and almost sighed. The kid was as stubborn as ever, and didn’t it drive him nuts to remember how similar he’d been at that age. “What do you want to talk about?”
Rory looked down, the moonlight making his hair a ghostly blond. “I overheard Mama talking on the phone with Amelia Ann tonight. She said you’re in love with Tory, and that’s why you don’t look so good most days.”
His chest grew tight, and while it didn’t surprise him to learn his sisters saw through him, he hoped they wouldn’t confront him. So far they hadn’t.
“So,” his nephew pressed, “is it true? Do you love her?”
Oh, Christ. Was he really supposed to share his secret with her little champion? Well, if it would make peace with Rory, maybe it was worth it. “Yes, I do.”
Rory took a step closer after studying Rye’s face for a spell. “I love her, too.”
The familiar pain started to well up again. “I know, son. She’s a mighty lucky woman to have you feel that way.”
“If you love her, why aren’t you trying to get her back?”
How could he explain how much he’d hurt her to a six–year–old? How any love she might have had for him had been erased by his betrayal.
“It’s…complicated,”
he said.
“If you say you’re really sorry and tell her you love her, she’ll forgive you. Like granddaddy said, she has a big heart.”
Daddy had said that? Well, after all Tory had done for them in Meade, he wasn’t surprised.
“I’m not sure that will be enough,” Rye said. He knew in his heart it was too late. “You should go back to bed.” Talking about this was only making his wounds bleed.
“Then you need to prove it to her,” Rory continued, his little fist clenching at his side.
Even Rye could feel Rory’s anger brewing, and his hope that this moment would lead to a reconciliation was fading fast.
“I made her a promise,” the little boy said, “and when you made her mad, and she went away, I couldn’t keep it. She told me it was okay, but a promise is a promise.”
His mind returned to the day when Rory had run away. He remembered how Tory had refused to share what his nephew had told her. “What did you promise her?”
“She told me everyone in her family was in heaven. That made me sad, so I told her she wasn’t alone anymore. That she had me.” He pointed to his blue pajama top. “That I’d be her family.”
He rubbed a hand over his throat. The kid was destroying him, reminding him of how Tory had convinced him to go to Meade after Tammy’s visit. It all but killed him to think about her being all alone, shouldering a growing mountain of debt. Isn’t that part of the reason he’d tried to buy the house for her?
“That’s a mighty big promise,” he said. “You should head off to bed now.”
Rory glared at him. “Mama says you’re nice now, and that I should be nice to you, but nice people say they’re sorry when they’re wrong.”
God, he was failing miserably—again—and Rory’s anger was bubbling up with each passing second. “I tried, son, but it wasn’t enough for her.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Now, Rory—”
“No! I hate you. I’m never going to be nice to you or talk to you again.” He stormed off, leaving Rye alone in the darkness once more.
When he placed his head in his hands, all he could think about was what Rory had said. Could the kid be right?
But how was he supposed to prove his love to Tory? To show her that he’d changed?
Then a new thought emerged. Wasn’t that exactly what his new album was about? Suddenly, he sat up. The new album. Everyone in his inner circle had been awed by the change in his music, and how it reflected the change in him. Would she believe him if she heard it?
His friend, Rhett Butler Blaylock, had convinced the woman he loved to marry him by serenading her. But then again, Rhett hadn’t done anything wrong.
Well, he’d never know if didn’t try, and he couldn’t bear to leave so much unsaid between them. He’d never even told her that he loved her, that he’d cherished their time together, that he never wanted anyone but her to sleep beside him.
His evening ritual blown, he headed inside, a new hope burning in his chest.
But he knew he wouldn’t sleep tonight.
***
Dusk was falling in a beautiful layering of crisp blues, warm apricots, and hot pinks when Rye sought Tammy out. He figured she might have a more informed opinion than Amelia Ann about what he was thinking, having been married, but he still intended to ask his other sister’s opinion when she got home. He knew the importance of keeping the peace between the two of them.
He brought Tammy a margarita on the rocks as she stood on the back lawn, surveying the newly–dug pond. The kids were busy playing with the dogs. Rory stopped to glare at him before running off to the tree swing, and it only cemented Rye’s determination.
“Bringing me a drink?” she said. “How lovely.”
“It looks good,” he commented because it was expected, pointing to the huge hole in the ground. In reality, it looked like a mass grave.
“You need to look past the dirt and sod to see its potential as a shining pond with exotic water lilies rising from the surface.” A blush warmed her cheeks, and she gave a reserved smile. “It’s going to be beautiful.”
The feeling in his stomach less resembled butterflies than gravel being kicked up on the highway by a semi. He tucked his thumbs in his belt loops.
“I need your advice. As a woman.”
She turned, her expression surprised. “Okay.”
“Rory talked to me last night,” he began, and filled her in on their conversation. By the time he was finished, she was wringing her hands. “I…ah.” Christ this was hard. He felt like a total girl, talking about his feelings this way. “I got to wondering what it would take for you to reconsider a man who’d screwed up so royally.”
Silence lengthened. In the distance, Rye heard Annabelle giggle and Barbie bark in return.
“Besides an apology? Action.”
“Great!” As a confirmation, it was music to his ears. “So, I’m thinking about flying to Africa to share my new songs with her and tell her…that I love her.”
Just thinking about getting on a plane made him sick, but his fear of flying wasn’t going stop him—Tory was too important. And as for finding out where exactly she was, well, he had people to do that for him, right? Surely, it wouldn’t be too hard. Or so he kept telling himself.
“But you’re petrified of flying,” she mused.
“I know.”
Then his sister smiled. “I’m glad you’ve decided to do something. Tory…is a special woman. I’m sorry I didn’t treat her better. I hope I’ll have the chance to apologize for that.”
It was nice to hear her say that. He wanted them to get along. If Tory actually… The thought of actually talking to her, seeing her, made him nervous all over again.
“Do you think she’ll believe me?” he said, ducking his head down, his embarrassment acute. “She’s so tough. And after all I’ve put her through, I’m not sure what I have to offer will be enough.”
“She’s not that tough.”
“What?” he asked. “Of course she is. She’s in freakin’ Africa.”
“That’s different. I’ve seen her with Rory,” she explained. “You don’t inspire love like that in a six–year–old without softness. And I noticed the way she looked at you.”
Oh, boy. “How’d she look?” he had to ask.
“Like you. In love and scared,” she whispered.
He rubbed the back of his neck and decided to ask her opinion on another worry that had been keeping him up at night. “The song I sang her in Memphis. It was like a breakup, right?” He’d wanted to tell her how special their time together had been, but the gesture seemed more hurtful than romantic now.
“I can’t say what went through her mind, but…I can see how a woman might think that. Still, it was a lovely song, Rye.”
Those words were her way of softening the blow. Well, Tammy was a softy too, he’d discovered, something he’d been blind to growing up.
“Thanks, Tammy.”
“After everything you’ve done for me and the kids, I’m glad I can finally give something back, even if it’s only advice.” When she leaned on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, it was suddenly hard to swallow. “Thank you, Rye.”
They held each other’s gaze, and because he’d experienced it with Tory, Rye recognized the beginnings of a true friendship with his sister. Before this summer, he never would have believed it possible.
“Well, I’m going to get dinner started,” she said.
“I think I’ll head to my studio for a while.”
He had hunkered down in his studio and was stupidly staring at his legal pad, trying to think of some new lyrics for the Memphis song, when Tammy called him and the kids for dinner. She never let him help in the kitchen, and because it reminded him of Tory, he hadn’t forced the issue.
After pushing his food around, he returned to his studio, where he kept scribbling and ripping up paper. The new lyrics for the song just weren’t coming to him.
When he went to sit outside to
wait for Annabelle, he was surprised to see Rory approaching him again. Dread rose.
“Mama told me you’re going to Africa to get Tory back.”
Over the sounds of crickets and the rustling of trees, he heard something near the door and turned his head. Even in the dim light, he could make out Tammy’s shoes, illuminated in the moonlight. The rest of her was bathed in shadow.
“Yes,” he said, his chest filling with emotion at his sister’s peacekeeping efforts. “You were right. If I love her, I need to tell her I’m really sorry and try to prove it to her.”
“Mama says I can’t go to Africa because of school, but can I make her a card?”
He’d wanted to come too? Tory’s little champion knew no bounds. “You make her as many cards as you want, and I’ll bring them.”
Rory hiked up one shoulder. “I’m sorry I said I hate you.”
It didn’t seem possible that anything could relieve the pressure in his chest, but the boy’s apology finally did. “That’s okay.”
“I’ll start talking to you again if you promise me not to be mean to Tory or make her go away again.”
He chose his words carefully. “If she forgives me and comes back, I promise I won’t make her go away again.” No, he’d love her all his days, and didn’t it figure that music accompanied those words in his head.
“I miss her,” Rory said, and Rye’s eyes burned with a matching emotion. “I miss her too, son.”
When the boy looked down again, Rye gave in to the need to make peace and pulled Rory onto his lap. Fortunately, the boy didn’t balk.
“We’ll both be her family now, son.”
“She’ll like that, Uncle Rye,” the boy whispered, leaning his head against his chest, and as a surrender, it was sweet.
He ran a hand over Rory’s hair. It was thick and curly at the end just like his had been. His serious little knight—just six years old and already looking out for damsels in distress.
Rory fiddled with his pajama top. “Will you sing to me, Uncle Rye? Like you do with Annabelle?”