The buzz of conversation stopped abruptly. Jude felt gazes shift to him. Someone whistled and the room erupted into applause. Jude stopped and glanced behind him, but no one else was there.
“There he is,” said Marilyn Harding. She hadn’t changed a bit since high school. Still the very persona of a cheerleader. “Celebration’s very own world champion.”
He should’ve gotten used to the recognition by now. But in this context, it was embarrassing. He felt like a fraud. He’d only have the title for another couple of weeks and then someone new would walk away with the honor. The worst part was that he wasn’t even able to defend it. He wasn’t even able to try.
Jude smiled humbly and waved for them to stop. When the adulation finally died down, he said, “I thought George Clooney was trying to sneak into the meeting. Because surely I don’t deserve such a welcome. But thanks, guys.”
Jude’s gaze swept the room, and he picked out Juliette amid the crowd of twenty or so who had gathered for the meeting. It made it worse that she’d witnessed the reception. She knew the truth about why he was home. She knew he was undeserving of the praise.
She was seated between two people they’d gone to school with. Their names were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t recall them.
Marilyn appeared at Jude’s side. “Thanks for being here tonight, Jude. We’re all so glad that you and Juliette could take time out of your busy schedules to join us and that you’re as eager as we are to be part of the ten-year reunion.”
They were eager? Was Juliette eager? If she was, he might be able to muster some enthusiasm.
“We have some fun things planned,” Marilyn continued. “We can’t wait to hear your thoughts because a lot of the plans directly involve you and Juliette. Shall we get started?”
Marilyn gestured to an empty seat next to the one she’d claimed. Jude sat down.
“Since our homecoming king and queen are both in attendance for the reunion, Marcy and I decided it might be nice to change the theme to Blast From the Past. Some of the things we have planned involve merging the reunion activities with the school’s homecoming festivities. But we will have some special events that are just for the class of 2007. What do you all think of that?”
The meeting attendees applauded.
Marcy, who was sitting near Juliette, said, “Of course, we have the homecoming football game on Friday night and the dance is on Saturday night. But we thought we’d add some things. We’ve gotten permission to have a car in the homecoming parade on Friday before the football game. The school’s committee voted and it was unanimous that they’d like for Jude and Juliette to be the grand marshals of the parade.”
Everyone clapped, which made Jude squirm. His gaze found Juliette’s and she looked a little embarrassed.
“Don’t worry, kids,” said Marilyn. “All that entails is riding in a convertible and waving to your adoring public.”
“The timing will work nicely with the barbecue that we’d already scheduled for Friday before the game since there are a couple of hours between the parade and the football game,” Marcy interjected. “Jude and Juliette, since you were our class’s homecoming king and queen, the administration would love for you to join last year’s royalty in the crowning of this year’s king and queen. Does that work for you?”
“Now on to new business,” Marilyn said before they could answer. “It’s traditional for the class that is celebrating its ten-year reunion to give the school a gift. It’s a legacy thing. After talking to the administration, they indicated that the rodeo club would like to host a competition at the school next year. In honor of our most distinguished classmate—” Marilyn gestured to Jude “—we wanted to make a sizable donation to help make that a reality. We were hoping to donate upwards of a thousand dollars. The competition will bring good press to the school and to Celebration. So, it’s a win-win for everyone. How does that sound?”
The crowd murmured their approval.
“We can raise that money through individual donations. Or we could hold a fund-raiser.” The crowd groaned. “Now, come on,” Marilyn urged. “This could be fun. Marcy and I were thinking we could reenact the senior talent show and charge admission. We could dust off our old numbers and acts and reenact them at the reunion talent show. Jude and Juliette, would y’all be willing to sing that song y’all performed together?”
Jude looked at Juliette, who looked as mortified as he felt.
The ideas sounded excruciating. Would people really pay money to watch others humiliate themselves—again? Okay, put in that light, he could see how it would be a success. But damn. He couldn’t sing the first time around and his voice had probably gotten worse.
“Oh, what’s the name of the song y’all sang?” Marcy snapped her fingers as if the action would ignite her memory. “What was it called?”
It must’ve worked because she virtually jumped out of her seat with the recall. “Oh! Oh! I remember. It was that old Elton John and Kiki Dee song—‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart.’ Remember? It was adorable. Y’all won first place, didn’t you?”
Yes, they had won. It had been total cheese. Jude’s gaze connected with Juliette’s again. She smiled and seemed to soften at the memory. Well, maybe it hadn’t been that bad. But really, she wasn’t up for re-creating it, was she? Singing in front of all those people? He hated being strong-armed into something like this.
“I just know everyone would love an encore performance and, of course, the proceeds from the event will benefit a very good cause.” Marcy glanced back and forth between Jude and Juliette. “Y’all don’t have to commit right now. Think about it. And that goes for everyone. I’ll put a sign-up sheet on the reunion website and y’all can sign up there. This is going to be so much fun!”
“I will make a five-hundred-dollar donation if my brother gets up there and sings.”
Jude’s head swiveled in the direction of Ethan’s voice. He must have just walked in because he was standing by the door with one hand on his hip, a bag in the other, looking smug.
“I will hold you to that, Ethan,” Marilyn said. “Marcy, write that down. Ethan Campbell has pledged five hundred dollars. That will put us halfway to our goal.”
As Marilyn and Marcy continued to outline the various committees that needed volunteers, Ethan came over and shook Jude’s hand, pulling him into a slap-on-the-back hug. “Welcome home, little brother. I heard you made it back to town yesterday. Since you didn’t come to see me, I thought I’d track you down.”
“I was going to come see you later,” Jude said. “I’m staying in the cabin.”
Jude had wanted to settle in and gather some facts and figures on the potential property sale before he saw his brother. Even though he wasn’t going to sell to MAG Holdings, he was considering listing it. Since his season had been cut short, his bank account was hemorrhaging money.
Even so, he had a feeling Ethan wasn’t going to be very keen on the idea of him unloading some of the land that had been in their family for generations. Of course, he would give his brother first right of refusal.
“Sorry to interrupt the meeting, everyone,” Ethan said. “I wanted to stop by and see if you all were planning on setting up tables for the mayoral candidates at the barbecue on Friday night? Since the election is a couple of weeks after homecoming, I thought it might be a good opportunity for the candidates to connect with the people. Kind of an informal meet and greet. I just happen to have some brand-spanking-new Ethan Campbell for Mayor buttons and brochures if anyone’s interested.”
Jude hadn’t been aware that his brother was running for mayor. It made sense. He’d probably win and be good at it, too.
A couple of people raised their hands. Only Ethan could get away with a slick move like crashing a meeting he wasn’t invited to and turning it into a campaign op. Ethan was beloved in this town—for the exact
opposite reasons that Jude had been popular. Ethan had been the dependable son, the good student, the steady, rock-solid member of the community. He’d come home after their parents’ accident and had assumed guardianship of Lucy. He’d turned around the family’s failing Triple C horse-breeding ranch, making it a viable operation that had put Celebration, Texas, on the map. Except for a bout with alcoholism, which he’d won—and, according to Lucy, Ethan had been sober for years—he was pretty damn near perfect.
Jude, on the other hand, was the prodigal son who’d returned home too late for the father to slaughter the fatted calf. He was everything Ethan wasn’t. Or maybe he should say that Ethan was everything he wasn’t.
Marilyn and Marcy had their heads together, talking about something in low tones. Judging by their expressions, they weren’t plotting to throw Ethan out of the meeting.
“Ethan,” Marilyn said. “How would you like to be the emcee for the talent show?”
His brother’s eyes flashed. “I’d be happy to.” He jabbed his thumb at Jude. “So this one doesn’t think he can weasel out of it, remind him the donation only stands if he and Juliette perform together, and it has to be that number they sang in high school.”
“Thanks, bro,” Jude said.
“Anytime.”
Some things never changed. Ethan still loved to torture him in that way that big brothers liked to persecute younger brothers.
“That is such a generous offer, Ethan,” Marilyn said. “What do you say, Jude and Juliette? Are you up for raising five hundred dollars for the rodeo club?”
* * *
Marcy bobbed up and down with excitement as she waited for Juliette to answer. “Oh, my gosh! I am so excited about this. Isn’t everyone excited?”
Juliette was surprised by how sedate everyone seemed to be. Were they feeling just as trapped and pressured as she was? At least they weren’t being put on the spot.
Juliette took a deep breath and reminded herself that Marcy was doing their class a big favor by putting so much hard work into organizing the event. She refused to let herself fall into the petty trap of inwardly rolling her eyes at the woman’s overpowering effervescence. Once a cheerleader, always a cheerleader. Well, except she’d managed to curb her enthusiasm in adulthood. If the reunion organizing had been left to her, there would be no reunion.
Rather than inwardly snarking about how she wouldn’t be one bit surprised if Marcy did backflips down the rows of stacks before breaking out into a cheer, Juliette made herself think of a kind, tactful way to disengage from this crazy talent show.
Okay, seeing the woman do backflips would be sort of amazing. Or humiliating for Juliette, if Marcy could still do a backflip ten years and one child later. Some days it was all Juliette could do to force herself to go to the gym.
“Will you do it, Juliette?” Marcy asked.
Until Marcy started pressuring her to sing, Juliette had been looking forward to the homecoming festivities. She’d even blocked off the long weekend, not booking any weddings, so that she could fully participate and help out wherever they needed her. She’d been looking forward to the break. But she did not want to get up and sing. Even if it was for a good cause. It wasn’t just that she didn’t have a good voice and had perennial stage fright, but to sing “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” with her ex-boyfriend, the one who had not just broken her heart, but had shattered it into a million tiny irreparable pieces she still hadn’t been able to put back together, was more than ironic—it bordered on dark satire.
She couldn’t figure out if Marilyn and Marcy were heartless or clueless. Maybe a little of both.
Was it too late to book herself a wedding to coordinate that weekend? She’d rather deal with the worst bridezilla than subject herself to this.
She hadn’t sung in front of an audience in a decade. In fact, that talent show had been her first and last public performance. And even then, it was meant to be a joke—a means for Jude and her to poke fun at themselves.
They’d been good at that back then. They hadn’t taken themselves too seriously. They hadn’t taken much of anything seriously. Love had come so naturally. There had been no need to analyze it or worry about it. The fact that they could ham their way through a cornball song like “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” said it all. They’d been solid. Their relationship had seemed like a strong, unending circle that had no beginning, no ending, because love conquered all.
Ah, to be that young and naive again.
“Juliette, you wouldn’t want to cost us five hundred dollars, would you?” Marcy pressed. Juliette wanted to kick her in the shin.
She felt the weight of every eye in the room on her. She couldn’t look at Jude.
“How about if I make a nice donation instead?” she asked. “I’m not much of a singer. People would probably donate even more if you promised I wouldn’t sing.”
“Oh, come on and be a sport. At least you can hold a tune. You guys won, didn’t you?”
They’d won because back in the day she and Jude had won everything—cutest couple, most likely to be married at the ten-year reunion, to name a few.
Now they were none of that. And she couldn’t even say she’d moved on and was satisfied with her life. Over the past ten years, she’d managed to get stuck on the hamster wheel of an unfulfilling job and have a handful of relationships that had only lasted six to nine months because she was too busy working.
Not to mention, she hated being pressured like this.
“I think we’ll pass,” Jude said. Juliette finally looked at him. If she’d been sitting next to him, she would’ve hugged him.
When she glanced back at Marcy, the woman looked crestfallen. “Okay, then.”
“Well, for everyone else, the talent show will be in the gymnasium,” Marilyn said. “Anyone who wants to practice on the stage is welcome to do so. Marcy and I will be in touch with those of you who do sign up and let you know dress rehearsal times. Let us know if you have any specific needs for your act.”
A sense of humor? A chastity belt? A lobotomy?
No. She would not let herself be bullied into doing something she wasn’t comfortable with.
The rest of the meeting went by in a haze of blah blah blah parade, blah blah blah barbecue, blah blah blah football game, blah blah blah dinner dance at the Campbell Wedding Barn.
That was right. Juliette had forgotten that Lucy had mentioned they were having the reunion dance at her venue. Well, that answered her question about inventing a work engagement. She could always go out of town...
“I still need volunteers to help decorate for the dance,” said Marilyn. “Marcy has the sign-up sheet over there. Lucy Campbell said there’s no event the night before. If any of you are so inclined, we could set up a time to get together to decorate before the parade and after the football game on that Friday.”
Stacy Edwards raised her hand. “Can’t we get the current student government to help with the decorations?”
Marilyn shook her head. “The students won’t be attending the same dance. They are having their own little get-together in the school gymnasium.”
After answering a few more questions, Marilyn called the meeting adjourned.
Since Juliette felt like she’d let down the entire class, she decided the least she could do was help with the decorating. She walked over to Marcy and signed up to be on the decorating committee.
“I’m really sorry about the talent show, Marcy,” Juliette said as she added her name to the decorating committee.
“I understand,” Marcy said. Her tone was icy.
Juliette was just turning to leave when she nearly ran into Jude, who had stealthily appeared behind her. “Is this where I sign up for the decorating committee?”
For a moment, Juliette thought she might actually get to see Marcy do those backflips. “J
ude Campbell! I am so grateful you want to help. Are you sure you have time? I mean, it’s enough to have you back for the reunion.”
Oh, gag.
Okay, so she was the bad guy for refusing.
The double standard was maddening. But you know what? That’s fine with me.
As Jude scrawled his name on the line underneath Juliette’s, Marcy and Marilyn gushed even more.
“This is going to be such fun,” Marcy said. Juliette could virtually see the hearts and flowers dancing around her head. “Oh, and Jude?”
Was she batting her eyelashes?
“Yes?”
“Could I ask for one teensy little favor?” She raised her brows and shrugged.
This was an opportune moment to leave. She fished her keys out of her purse, hitched the bag up onto her shoulder and started toward the door. As she walked away, she heard Marcy ask Jude, “Would you sign an autograph for my son, Todd? He’s a huge fan and he’d be so excited to get a personal message from you.”
It was innocent enough. In fact, the little boy probably would be thrilled to get an autograph from his hero.
Huh. Jude was a little boy’s hero. Who’d a thunk?
She got into her car, fastened her seat belt and sat there for a moment thinking before she started the engine.
What was wrong with her? Why was she wound so tightly? She really didn’t begrudge Jude the warm welcome. And no, she wasn’t jealous of all the predominantly female attention he was getting. He had always been a flirt and gorgeous and charismatic and being the spokesperson for the On-Off Shirt—well, he was the perfect person for the job.
So, what was wrong with her? Why was Jude’s homecoming making her examine all her own inadequacies and vulnerabilities?
The Cowboy Who Got Away Page 6