The Darling Songbirds

by Rachael Herron

  ‘Thank you. And I know this isn’t a social call. What’s up?’

  ‘It could be a social call.’

  Dixie nodded slowly, suspicion in her eyes. ‘Sure. Most of my friends call or text before they come over, though. When they just drop out of the sky at the crack of dawn –’

  ‘It’s after nine!’

  ‘Oh, God, it’s that early? I just went to bed.’ Dixie held her ceramic mug like she wanted to hug it. ‘So if you’re not here to fire me, too, then –’

  ‘You heard?’

  ‘That you fired Nate? Of course I did.’

  ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘Come on. You know there’s no one in town who doesn’t know.’

  ‘The postmaster didn’t seem to know.’

  Dixie’s eyes widened. ‘She tweeted about it.’

  ‘Dot Rillo put it on Twitter?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Does Nate know that?’

  Dixie shook her head, and her short curls bounced. ‘I doubt Nate even knows what Twitter is.’

  Just the sound of his name made something hurt in Adele’s chest. Was she too young to have a heart attack? It ran in the family, after all. Wasn’t this the way they started? With a dull ache in the chest, followed by a foggy feeling of confusion? A deep well of sadness? That was totally medical. She knew it. ‘Can you tell me where he docks his boat?’

  ‘Sorry?’ Dixie blinked and stirred her coffee lazily.

  ‘His boat. The one he’s been living on. Is it at the main marina? What’s it called?’ She would go find it and – and then she’d come up with a plan.

  ‘He doesn’t have a boat.’

  ‘Yes, he does.’ Adele heard the ludicrousness of her words. As if she knew more about Nate than Dixie did. ‘He told me he’s been staying on it while I’m in his room.’

  ‘Yeah, well, he lied to you.’

  ‘He never had a boat?’

  ‘Oh, sure.’ Dixie smiled. ‘He had one. He loved that thing. But the bank turned him down the last time he applied for a preapproved loan, saying it was too old a boat to be counted as security. It was just a liability. So he sold it to Ruthann, and she put it in dry dock. She lives on it with her dog. If you want to see it, it’s just over there, on the other side of the gazebo. That big white yacht is mostly hiding it, but it’s right behind it.’

  A seagull swooped down and perched on the edge of the pink table, making it rock. Adele’s coffee spilled.

  ‘Oh, sorry. Shoo, you vile thing.’

  And even though Adele knew Dixie was talking to the bird, for a moment, she really did feel vile.

  ‘When?’

  ‘When did he sell the boat? Oh, maybe five months ago? Yeah. The loan got preapproved just before summer. I remember, because we were hanging new white lights in the arbour, taking down the strands that committed suicide over the winter.’

  ‘So he was never staying there.’

  Dixie tilted her head. ‘Probably not.’

  ‘He lied.’

  ‘To make you feel better, he probably did. He does that.’

  Adele rubbed her hands against each other. The sunlight was warm on her shoulders, but she felt chilled to the bone. ‘Well, he shouldn’t.’

  ‘Yeah, well. He takes care of people. If it hadn’t been you he put in his room, it would have been someone else. Heck, he put me in there when we first met. Though back then he was still sleeping on his boat.’

  ‘Why does he do it?’

  ‘Put people in his room at the hotel? Because he could, I guess. Probably goes back to his mother.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Something prickled at the back of Adele’s neck.

  ‘You know. Him taking care of her for so long.’

  ‘His mother?’

  ‘You knew her, didn’t you?’

  Adele shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. How would I have known her? He’s from Fresno, right? Somewhere around there?’

  ‘Donna.’

  The inside of Adele’s brain went quiet. ‘Who?’

  ‘The bartender. You knew that was his mom, right?’

  Adele covered her mouth with her fingers. ‘Oh, God.’

  ‘A lot of people didn’t know that, but I thought you would have.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t he tell me?’

  Dixie shrugged. ‘He didn’t really tell anyone.’

  ‘He was embarrassed.’

  ‘No, that’s the weird thing. Hugh told me Donna made him swear not to tell people. Not till she was sober.’

  ‘But …’

  Dixie raised her mug as if in salute. ‘And she never got sober. She went a couple of months a few times, I think. Hugh said she had a whole six-month plan. That if she could stay dry for half a year, she’d believe she’d really done it and then Nate could brag to everyone who she was. She wanted to have a big party. She said she needed to make them believe in her. But she was wrong about that.’

  ‘You don’t think Nate believed she’d quit?’

  ‘No. The opposite. She had two people who totally believed in her – both Nate and Hugh.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Family is family. I don’t understand how he could keep that a secret.’

  ‘Donna wanted him to be proud of her, and she was even more stubborn than he is. It was her plan.’ Dixie kicked her feet up on an empty chair. ‘And she wouldn’t budge from it.’

  ‘How did you know, then? He told you?’

  ‘Nah. I overheard Hugh talking to him one night.’

  ‘He believed that she would quit drinking.’ Adele remembered that she’d never seen a woman pack away more alcohol and stay on her feet. She remembered how Donna had smelled the next morning, when she came wobbling in to work and Uncle Hugh sent her up to his place for a nap and a shower. ‘Why? Why on earth would he believe that would ever happen?’

  ‘Because Nate believes in people. That’s what he does.’

  ‘I told him she probably slept with men for drinks.’

  Dixie’s mouth formed a perfect, shocked O.

  Adele put her forehead briefly on top of the pink plastic tabletop. ‘I know,’ she mumbled to her shoes. ‘And then I fired him.’

  ‘Hoo, boy. That’s a shitstorm, right there. How are you doing?’

  It was how Dixie said it that made Adele lift her head. Dixie’s voice was kind. Soft.

  She was listening.

  It felt so good to be listened to by someone who looked as if she cared. Adele couldn’t have stopped the words from tumbling out of her mouth if she’d tried. ‘I’m so mad at him.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘It’s …’ It didn’t feel hard to admit the truth to Dixie. ‘He thought, because I slept with him, that meant I’d sell to him. Or that I was thinking about it, that he would get me to reconsider.’

  Dixie laughed. ‘With the power of his cock! Oh! That’s good.’

  ‘You can’t laugh at that!’

  It seemed to make Dixie laugh more. ‘Oh, yes, I can. That’s hilarious.’

  ‘How is it funny?’

  ‘Because I’ve always said that sex ruins everything. Especially business. And trust me, I have experience with this. So he thought y’all were going to be celebrating the close of the deal?’

  ‘I think so. Maybe. Yes.’

  ‘He’s always been damn sure he’d end up owning the place.’

  ‘He never had the right! Where did he get that from?’

  ‘You know, honey. Just sheer hope. The Golden Spike was the one place his mother loved. He took care of her when she couldn’t take care of the bar. And then he took care of the bar, too, when Hugh got too old to do it. Like I said. It’s what he does. Hugh said he could have the place if y’all didn’t come home, and he was close to believing you never would.’

  Adele felt like she’d tuned in to a station that wasn’t coming in clearly. If she moved her head, maybe it would get clearer. She shifted in her seat. Nope. Still static. ‘And then I came to town. And worse, I went and goddamn
fell in love with him.’

  Dixie leaned forward, a small smile at her mouth. ‘I know.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘Honestly, who wouldn’t fall in love with that man? I like women, and I’m half in love with him myself.’

  Adele gave a laugh that felt more like a sob. ‘What do I do now?’

  ‘Oh, honey. I’m so bad at relationships I live in a trailer so I won’t accidentally let someone move in.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Kind of. The one I want to move in is already living with someone else.’

  Adele nodded and perched her elbows on the table. ‘So we’re both doomed.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I have to apologise to him.’

  ‘Um …’ Dixie, for the first time, looked unsure.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Didn’t you say you called his mother, like … a whore?’

  Adele felt her face go red. ‘I didn’t say that. I just – oh, God. I did. That’s exactly what I said. How am I supposed to fix this?’

  ‘And didn’t you say that you thought he slept with you to get the bar from you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Adele hit her knee on the underside of the table. ‘I don’t feel like I know anything except that I want to fix it.’

  ‘Maybe you can’t.’ Dixie looked into her tilted mug as if she’d find more coffee at the bottom of it.

  ‘Oh, no. That’s my superpower. I can always fix things. Always.’

  Dixie shook her head. ‘And Nate always thinks he can keep things safe. Sometimes –’

  ‘Don’t say it.’

  ‘You’re both wrong a lot, that’s all I’m saying.’

  Adele dug her heels into the Astroturf, making an almost inaudible sound. ‘I can fix it.’

  ‘Okay, then. Good luck.’

  ‘I can.’ She straightened and tried to believe herself. ‘I will fix it. All of it.’

  She had to.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Nate entered the bar at the very last minute. He went straight to the stage without looking towards the cash register. He didn’t want to see either one of them – Dixie, because she’d probably laugh at him or something, and there was nothing funny in the whole world.

  Or Adele.

  Because he’d gone and gotten twisted up over that woman, as twisted as old, rusted barbed wire. Good for nothing but making people bleed and snapping under any weight at all.

  ‘You’re here!’ Mack looked happy, if happiness could be judged when the guy never took off his sunglasses. ‘I thought you’d chicken out.’

  ‘You didn’t leave me much choice, did you?’

  ‘Hey, we can’t play without a guitarist.’

  ‘There have to be a hundred in this town.’

  ‘None that know our songs.’

  ‘Our songs ain’t hard.’

  Scrug looked up from fiddling with a leg on his kick drum. ‘Hey, don’t insult our songs. No one needs more than three chords.’

  ‘Hi.’

  The voice came soft, from behind him. He should have known. She crept up on a man like the flu – you didn’t see it coming till you were flat out and done for, almost dead.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

  Why bother pulling punches? ‘So you can gloat?’ Nate finally turned, and immediately wished he hadn’t. She was in some light-coloured doily-like dress that pulled in at her waist with a red belt, accentuating her high breasts. The skirt was short enough to show enough leg to make a man crazy. Shiny red heels. Red lips to match. She looked a cherry on top of whipped cream, and he’d always been a sucker for sundaes. ‘Or because Dust & Rusty packs ’em in? Just in it for the money?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  He walked past her. Yeah, he’d made it his life’s mission never to drink when he was upset, but he’d never had to play a gig in a bar in front of the woman who’d stomped on his heart and stolen his dream. He would help himself to a rum and Coke, God help her if she tried to stop him. This was still his place. In his heart, this was still where he belonged. Here, with these people. Norma was sitting at the bar. Was she looking skinnier? Sometimes she forgot to eat protein altogether if he didn’t remind her. She was talking to Parrot Freddy, laughing raucously at something he’d said (or maybe it was something the parrot, Ethel, had said). Willie Rayburn and his brother Wagoner were playing dice in their own leather cups (the bar’s cups had never been quite sturdy enough for their tastes). Lily Dario was just disappearing out the back door into the courtyard, hand in hand with one of the two Petes. He’d have to ask her about that later.

  Or maybe he wouldn’t.

  He couldn’t take care of the whole damn world.

  His boots stalled, though, on the threshold of going behind the bar.

  It was her place.

  She’d fired him.

  He wasn’t doing real well taking care of anyone, not even himself. He didn’t work here, and he couldn’t help himself to a damn thing. It would be wrong to push her. And for once, he wished like hell he was the type to push a woman, to push her as far as she’d go before she snapped.

  But goddammit. He wasn’t.

  A bag of salt and vinegar chips hit him in the chest. Adele grinned at him. ‘Want a drink?’

  She was too cheeky. Too insouciant. He couldn’t play that game tonight – what the hell had he been thinking? He wanted to kiss her, to take her to bed, to yell at her all night, to listen to her yell back. He couldn’t play guitar and sing, not in front of her …

  And then Nate looked up.

  Over her head.

  ‘What the hell.’ It wasn’t a question. He knew what it was; he just didn’t know how it had gotten there.

  ‘Do you like it?’ Adele looked worried, as if his opinion mattered to her.

  The huge frame over the mirror held a blown-up photo of Hugh. And Nate’s mother. They were grinning at each other, standing at the bar they were now overlooking, expressions of sheer delight in both their faces.

  It was a gut punch of emotion that threatened to level him, and that, by God, was not okay. ‘Where did that come from?’

  ‘I found a small version in Hugh’s apartment. Also framed. I got it blown up. I’m not sure who the photographer was that day, but isn’t it great?’

  ‘I think I took that shot.’ With his old Nikon. It had been raining outside, he remembered. He’d come in to find them warm and happy behind the bar, and his heart had expanded with love for both of them. That had been a good day.

  She looked worried, a small line appearing between her eyebrows. ‘Is it okay?’

  ‘Not my business.’ Literally.

  ‘I hoped you would like it. They both look so happy, don’t they?’

  He nodded. There was no denying that. They looked like they were about to play a practical joke on someone, or just had. His mother was even pretty in the photo, light snapping in her eyes, and Hugh was just as bright.

  ‘Oh, my God.’

  Her voice was low. ‘You see it, too.’

  They’d been in love.

  They’d been in love? Hugh had loved his mother? Like that? How had he never seen it until he looked at the photo? ‘I didn’t … I didn’t know.’

  ‘I didn’t know until I saw this, either. It’s nice, I think.’

  He rubbed his neck, which suddenly ached as much as his stupid heart.

  What else was there in the world that he didn’t understand? Was it all this obvious? Was he just stupid?

  His mother seemed happy in that shot.

  Suddenly, the reason why Hugh had taken care of her so long made sense. It was crystal clear.

  You’re an idiot, Houston. He looked at Adele, let her image sear into his brain so that he wouldn’t forget it. For so many reasons.

  ‘Can I get a rum and Coke?’ He thought for a moment. ‘Please.’ The picture hanging over her head made him hand over that courtesy. Grudgingly. He’d give her a thank you and a dollar ti
p because he was a decent man. He’d play his set, then he’d quit the band, and he’d never set foot in the saloon again as long as he lived.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Adele had asked Scrug her question when he arrived. Scrug had asked Mack. Neither of them, because she asked them not to, had asked Nate.

  So when they finished the first half of their set, when Nate’s back was already turned as he unstrapped his guitar, Adele stepped onto the stage.

  Her heart beat so fast it almost hurt. Her breath caught. ‘Hi,’ she said into the mike.

  The crowd, the biggest one she’d seen in the saloon so far, went silent. Expectant.

  Good Lord, she hoped she didn’t let them down.

  She hoped she didn’t let him down. She held up his mother’s guitar, the old Martin. ‘Do you mind if I play this?’

  Nate looked startled, as if she’d just slapped him across the eye. ‘You can. You don’t want to, though. It won’t stay in tune.’

  ‘I put new pegs on it. It holds true now.’

  Nate blinked hard. Then he nodded.

  The three men stepped off the stage into the crowd on the dance floor. She lost track of Mack and Scrug almost immediately, but not Nate. Adele felt him there. In the darkness. She couldn’t see his face against the spotlight shining in her eyes, but she could see his outline. She could feel his stare against her skin. She overheated, instantly, and felt the sweat start at her hairline. Sexy.

  She just needed to do this.

  ‘Okay, then. I wrote this song. It’s due to my publisher next week, and I thought it was going to be late, but then it kind of came to me.’ Her words tumbled over each other like a bird wheeling too fast to the ground. Soon she’d crash. ‘This is the first time it’s been played out. I hope you like it.’

  Hope was so small a word for what she felt in her chest. A swell, as huge as the ocean’s tide, rose inside her, and she strummed the first G chord.

  Simple lyrics. Simple chords. She could do this.

  ‘It’s called “My Confession”.’

  She sang.

  The café’s closed, the sink’s got mould,

  The fridge is warm, and the beer’s not cold.

  Oysters gone, the fries are too.

  But it all tastes right when I’m here with you.