“Well, you do. Except you know her as a veterinarian.”
“What?” Harmony slumped down on bench. “You’re not making any sense.”
“I researched all of the names attributed to writing the first Apple Lodge movie, and there were quite a few of them. The one that stuck out was Maya Turner. Which, you may remember, is the name of one of the singers in Attitunes.”
“Oh yeah! The Urban Sista!” Harmony exclaimed.
“Exactly. So there’s the Faith West connection. Then I did more research into Attitunes. Found lots of interviews and articles, but the most interesting one was from a few years ago. A ‘where are they now’ type of thing. It said Maya isn’t in show business anymore but instead went back to her first career aspiration. Animals.”
Melody looked about to explode, but Harmony couldn’t take it any longer. “Animals. Maya. Veterinarian… Is that what Dr. Spencer’s first name is, Maya?”
Melody nodded and turned the phone towards her laptop screen. She had the website for the local veterinary clinic up, and there was her picture, Dr. Maya Spencer. “Now that you know it’s her, can’t you see the girl from Attitunes?”
“No, not really,” Harmony admitted, “but it’s kinda grainy. I’ll pull up the website when we’re done. So you connected the writer of the movie to Ally. And we know that Dad and Uncle Dust know Dr. Spencer. Oh, and she works on all the animals on the ranch, right? So Bea knows her.”
“That’s right she does.” Melody smiled. “So there’s the proof.”
Harmony grinned widely for a moment before it crumbled. “Wait, proof of what? What are we actually trying to accomplish here?”
“I think this means the bedtime story is true, Harm.”
“I get that,” she said, grimacing. “But so what? You’re not here, Mel, you can’t see it. Or them. I don’t know if the bedtime story being true even matters. I don’t think this helps us get Uncle Dust a happily ever after.”
Melody’s expression softened. “Is that what you were trying to do? Find him a happy ending?”
“Of course,” Harmony whispered, staring at the wood grain of the table. “Weren’t you?”
Melody shrugged. “Maybe. But his happy ending may not be your happy ending.”
“What does that mean?”
“You like mysteries,” Melody said. “And in mysteries there is always a culprit and catching them is how the story ends. Real life doesn’t always have one right answer.”
“So Ally – or Faith – doesn’t have to be the only solution?” Melody just nodded in reply. “Ugh, this is getting depressing. Real life sucks sometimes.”
“Tell me about it,” Melody joked. “I get to study for midterms and not make it home this weekend while you get to be there with my favorite pop star. Please tell me how that’s fair?”
“It is cool. Though being here has not been all it’s cracked up to be.” Harmony was silent for a moment, contemplating her sister. “I’m still going to try. Even if it’s not the only way. It could still be the best way.”
“Maybe.”
“Hmm, what a resounding vote of confidence. Nancy Drew out.”
Chapter 12
Dustin stepped into the kitchen, his clothes smudged with grease. He wasn’t about to admit he couldn’t get the car working. He wanted to blame it on the illogical foreign car, but a voice in the back of his head was whispering that his whole heart just wasn’t in it.
Peter sat at the kitchen table, red pen in his hand and papers piled around him. Faith was in the armchair against the wall, curled up with a tablet in her lap and a look of concentration on her face. Dustin studied the tiny crease between her eyebrows. He remembered how he used to run his thumb across her brow, try and smooth it out and erase all of her worries. He had never been all that good at it.
Harmony marched into the room, dropped down into a chair, and let out a theatrical sigh. When Peter didn’t look at her, she sighed again, even louder. “Have you come down with consumption, Peaches?”
“Yes,” she said, throwing in a weak cough.
Peter sat back in his chair and gave his daughter his undivided attention, a teasing grin on his face. “Well, this is going to be good.”
“And before I shove off the mortal coil, I’d like some answers.”
“Well, I’d say my answer is forty-two then.”
“Dad.” She giggled. “I’m serious.”
“With consumption?”
“I’m starting to think I don’t know you or Uncle Dust at all.”
“Really?”
“Truly. You know famous singers and hook up in closets and used to have a motorcycle.” Her eyes narrowed in on him with teenage determination. “What other things are you guys not telling me?”
Dustin choked on his drink of water, turning to cough into the sink before meeting his brother’s eyes. You told your daughter about hooking up with her mom? he asked without words. Peter’s crooked look was his answer; someone’s loud midnight tryst had forced his hand.
“Sorry,” Dustin said, to his brother for the circumstances and to Harmony for interrupting. “You were saying…?”
“What other things don’t I know about you? Are you actually allergic to strawberries? Any secret piercings or tattoos? Are Peter and Dustin even your real names?”
Peter laughed. “You want to know if I have a tattoo? Peaches, we all know I’m afraid of needles. I don’t need that pain, no thank you.”
“They don’t hurt that much,” Faith murmured absently before realizing what she had said.
“So that’s one person in the room that’s inked – any other takers?” Harmony asked. Neither of the men responded, so she turned her attention to the singer. “It really didn’t hurt?”
“Not if you get it in the right place,” Faith said, her eyes tracking to Dustin’s. He held her gaze, wondering what had brought the blush to her cheeks. He hadn’t noticed a tattoo the night before, and now it was a mystery he desperately wanted to solve.
“You guys get matching Attitunes tats?” Dustin asked with a teasing grin.
“What great role models that would have made us.”
“Okay, one tattoo in the room,” Harmony said. “How about broken bones. How many of those do we have?”
“None from me,” Faith said.
“That dislocated shoulder was pretty close though,” Dustin said. He’d been in the front row of the practice she’d fallen off the stage. Felt like ages running in slow motion before he could reach her and make sure she was all right. Hadn’t started breathing again until the physician popped it back in place and pronounced her well enough.
Faith looked at him with quizzical eyes. Was he not supposed to remember that? It was a moment he couldn’t forget if he tried; the moment he realized he loved her with abandon, without reason. Would do anything for her if it erased her tears.
“Your uncle and I are tied on that one, two to two. I broke my leg in high school playing soccer – ”
“Running into the bench before the game,” Dustin interrupted.
“And my arm, falling off that horse when you were getting lessons,” Peter finished. He glared at his twin, and Harmony giggled. “Dustin broke his bones in that car accident.”
“You were in a car accident?” Faith asked on a whisper.
Dustin turned away, looking out across the yard so she didn’t read the truth of it in his stare; he’d gotten much more than heartache the night she left. “Yeah. Long time ago.”
The room was suddenly pregnant with things left unsaid. Dustin shifted, restless and needing to move before he exploded. Or reached for her. “Any other nagging concerns, daughter?” Peter asked, breaking the awkward silence.
“How did you guys meet Faith?”
“That,” Peter said, rising from the table and gathering up his empty dishes, “is a story for another day. Class dismissed.” Dustin was out the door before he’d finished speaking.
Faith had made a decision. And it was a cowardl
y one. For the last hour she’d tried to get up the nerve to talk to Peter about why she was really here, about the divorce papers in her purse. Her resolve just continued to dissolve, the emotions of the reunion too much for her to deal with. Words wouldn’t come. She could circle the topic all she wanted, but she couldn’t voice anything about a decade ago. She needed it laid to rest.
Which was how she ended up in Dustin’s study, alone, trying to find a good place to hide divorce papers. She’d peeked; Jackson had left very clear instructions. She didn’t really have to say anything at all. Her words would just be redundant. Frivolous. Ultimately unnecessary.
“I think you’re lying,” Dustin said, busting into Faith’s thoughts.
“About what?” She held her breath, wondering how he could have found out why she was really there.
“Having a tattoo. I didn’t see one yesterday.”
She relaxed and laughed. “It’s my fault you weren’t paying attention?”
“I may have had a few other things on my mind.” His eyes gleamed with challenge. “Let me see it.”
She shook her head and backed away from him. “Not a chance, Dusty.”
“A trade?”
“You’re clean – I was paying attention.” She’d memorized every inch of him, taking nothing for granted, not one sliver of his skin. She knew there’d be a day when she sat in her room and composed an ode to his chest instead of a chart-topper.
“To be sure though.” He grinned, pulling his shirt up over his head and dropping it next to him on the floor.
“You play dirty,” Faith protested, taking another step backwards. But only one. Before she could take another, Dustin was in front of her, guiding her hand to touch him. He had to have washboard abs, didn’t he? Not from the gym or marathons or cross-fit. No, he earned his the hard way, out in the sun, sweat pouring down his brow. Just like the calluses and the wink, it was hard for her to resist.
He rubbed her hand up the length of him, bringing it to his face and placing a kiss against her palm. His lips feathered against the pulse in her wrist, and she couldn’t stop the sound of desire escaping her. “I told you. You don’t have to practice anymore.”
Dustin chuckled, and she closed her eyes so she couldn’t see it travel down the length of him. “Too engrained to stop now.” He dropped her hand and grabbed her waist, pulling her right up against him. “Where oh where could it be?”
Faith opened her eyes, wanting to pull away, knowing what she had a tattoo of and not wanting to discuss it, but the desire held her in place as he slipped her shirt off. As his eyes roved over her. As he placed a kiss against her jaw.
She tilted her head and captured his lips, using her tongue to convince him to discontinue his silly quest. He responded with enthusiasm, too much lost time to make up for. His hands skirted upwards, thumbs brushing against her ribs, and she shuddered. She’d forgotten what he could do to her with a simple touch.
Dustin pulled away first, out of breath, and she let her head fall against his shoulder. “Fuck,” he whispered, setting his lips against her temple. “You’re just so damn addicting.”
“Why quitting cold turkey was the only way,” Faith mumbled. His lips stilled at her words, right under her ear. The shift in the air was palpable, from teasing to something else, something heavier.
“I know,” he whispered. He cleared his throat before continuing. “But you’re here now. With Chinese symbols or a dolphin I have yet to find.”
She leaned back ever so slightly and raised her brow. “You think I’m a Chinese symbol kind of girl?”
“Don’t know yet.” He released her waist and pulled the camisole up over her head, exposing her to the cold air in the room. He took a step away, his eyes taking in every inch, and she had that overwhelming desire to be seen again, knowing his gaze wouldn’t overlook anything. Including the way her nipples hardened at his inspection, aroused with nothing but his eyes touching her. His tongue flicked across his bottom lip, and she gasped, not at all prepared for him spinning her in a circle, turning her around and getting his first clear view of her back. She could feel when he saw it, the air suddenly pregnant with meaning.
She started shaking, her soul laid bare. For it was her soul that she had pressed in ink against her skin, kept away from all prying eyes and only hers to see. She covered it up – with make-up, clothes, well-positioned curls. She didn’t want to be asked what it meant, why it adorned her skin; at the same time she needed it there, there so she wouldn’t have to spend any time remembering, wondering why she felt incomplete without it.
It felt like an eternity she stood there, waiting for a reaction. “Ally.” He sighed. And then his fingertips were brushing against it. The small branch usually obscured by her bra, the four leaves, the two lemons ready to be picked and one just barely beginning to grow. But his shaky breath and his forehead against her skin were too much for her to handle.
“I can’t,” she murmured. And for the second time, she grabbed her shirt and ran from a room half-dressed.
She burst out the front door and turned right but flinched at the sight of the lemon tree. She couldn’t look at that and see anything but heartache. She spun around and started running in the opposite direction, walking no longer quick enough to escape the ghosts chasing her. The universe hated her; it was the only explanation. She dared anyone to deny it.
Habit made her slow when she reached the steps of the gazebo. So many times she’d sat out here, staring at the stars and composing songs in her head, long before she’d understood the itch for the guitar. She closed her eyes, trying to recapture any of that ease she’d had a decade ago.
She knew who dropped down beside her before the stairs even made a sound. “I screwed up, didn’t I?”
His voice held the beginnings of a smile. “I don’t know, East; you’re going to have to be a lot more specific.”
“I shouldn’t have come back.”
“Or you should have come back a decade ago,” Peter said.
“I couldn’t… you don’t… it…” She trailed off, not able to string together the words.
“You think I don’t understand loss? I lost you. I lost my wife. I almost lost the kids.” Faith opened her eyes and looked at him with curiosity. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I was twenty-three when Darcy died and left me with these two little grieving girls. Not everyone thought I could do it. And questioned why I wanted to, like my emotion was suspect, like blood was the only way to make a family. I had to fight for them, every day, until no one had any doubt on what I already knew. They were my girls. They weren’t going anywhere. They were Andrewses.
“That’s why we celebrate every year at a time that’s always full of sadness. Because it’s important to honor the victories, especially when there’s not many of them.” Peter glanced at Faith. “You didn’t have to leave like that, you know. We were your family too.”
Tears streamed down her face, and she tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close, until she had no choice but to lean into Peter’s embrace, sobs wracking her body. How could she tell him what she’d overheard that night? That she’d been afraid and refused to fight. How do you tell a warrior that you’re a coward?
“Shh,” he murmured, a comforting hand stroking her arm. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay, Peter. It’s never been okay. It’ll never be okay,” she cried.
“That’s not true.”
“I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it was going to make it better, but all it did was make it worse. I thought… I thought…” She dissolved into tears again, unable to get anymore words out. Peter held her as she cried, so strong, so stable.
“It’s okay, sweetie. It’s all okay.”
“I screwed it all up. Everything. I blackened everything I touched, and I broke everything I left.”
She heard the chuckle in Peter’s reply. “Come now, it’s not that bad
. You sound like an Andy Peters song.”
Her body stiffened, and she pulled away, not meeting his eyes. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and decided this truth was less damaging than that one. “We were so young and fighting so much and… and the baby was like a sign. A sign that we could work it out, be all in. That we had to grow up and stop being so petty and stupid because we were meant to be. Parents, at least, if not nauseating lovebirds.”
The universe, she’d thought, had sent her something good. A happy ending. She was getting married only once in her life, and she couldn’t think of a better time to do it – starting a new future with the man of her dreams and their baby. She’d already had a full life by twenty-one – lived plenty of dreams, and it was time to try a new adventure. The travel and the time apart and all the obligations – they’d work themselves out. Here was the reason she was born – to do this.
But the universe changed its mind. “And then we lost her. And all the reasons we’d stood in front of a preacher and vowed to stay together forever, all the reasons to become better versions of ourselves and grow up, we lost them too. All of them.”
“Not all of them,” Peter whispered. “You still had love.”
Faith opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t tell him what she overheard in the hospital that had her running into a storm barely four hours later. She just shook her head, staring at her hands in her lap. “It wouldn’t have been enough.”
Peter settled a hand over hers and she knew he was shaking his head in disagreement. It would have been enough. Maybe she’d known that all along too. Every single moment she’d been here – fighting in the kitchen, crying on the porch, kissing in the bedroom – she’d seen it. In the way Dustin looked at her, spoke to her, growled at her. Recrimination asking why she didn’t stay. And now none of it seemed to matter. Here her actions were all stripped of perspective; she was the villain and he was the hero. She’d never written that song before.
Faith slipped her hands away from Peter and stood. “I had reasons. Real reasons. My reasons. I didn’t just decide to crush the man I loved because I could. You think I wasn’t crying my eyes out the whole time? You think it didn’t crush me, too?” He reached a hand towards her, but she stepped away, knowing the tears would never stop falling if he offered her comfort again. “I’m tired of being cast as the bad guy, Peter. I need to get out of here before I start believing it myself.”
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