by Julie Benson
As she watched Molly leave, Emma thought, six months. That’s all it would take before Molly called to say she’d made a mistake leaving the band. Life could sidetrack people with dreams. Parents got sick. Keeping a roof over their heads or wanting to eat food other than ramen noodles got in the way, but ambitions like theirs never died.
She glanced at her notes for her volunteer orientation and training but couldn’t focus. As day jobs went, hers as volunteer coordinator for the Estes Park animal shelter was a pretty good one. It had its perks, the biggest of which being on tough days like today she could hide in the kennels and play with puppies until she could face the world. Yup. A little puppy therapy was the only thing that kept her going today.
* * *
TWENTY MINUTES LATER Emma looked up from her spot on the kennel floor when her best friend and boss, Avery Montgomery, walked in. “You’re playing with puppies. What’s wrong?”
“Some days it doesn’t pay to get out of bed unless you cuddle puppies.” Emma pulled the wiggling black bundle closer to her chest as she gave Avery a quick rundown of her conversation with Molly. “Unless we find a new fiddle player, last weekend’s performance may have been Maroon Peak Pass’s swan song.”
“What’re the chances you can find a replacement relatively quickly?” Avery asked as she settled onto the floor beside Emma. One fluffy, roly-poly pup crawled off Emma’s lap and waddled over to her friend.
“It’s harder than you think. Talented musicians who are serious about their craft are already in bands and most aren’t looking to change.”
“Can you go on without a fiddle if you can’t find someone else in time for the state fair contest?”
“It’s hard enough to stand out among all the country acts. Adding Molly helped define our sound. Now all of our arrangements and the new music I’ve written are for a band with a fiddle. I don’t want to think about how long it would take to rework everything. We’d definitely have to cancel our upcoming engagements.”
“I’m sorry, Em. I know how much the band means to you.” Avery scooped up a pup and scratched him behind the ears.
Avery was one of the few people in her life who truly understood how her need for a career in country music drove her. Emma wished her family understood better. They couldn’t grasp why she wasn’t content with her job at the shelter. It was stable and provided her with a paycheck every two weeks. She could play musician on the weekends. Why did she want more? She couldn’t put her need into words. She only knew she couldn’t settle for less than giving a music career her best shot. Not now, when she was older and wiser than when she’d dashed off to Nashville at eighteen all full of hopes and dreams but not much common sense.
“I wish Molly had waited a little longer to quit. Even a day. I could’ve handled it better. Why did she have to tell me today?” Emma bit her lip and tried to ignore the ache spreading through her. “He turns seven today. Between that and Molly’s bombshell, it’s too much to take.”
Seven years ago she gave birth to a son and watched the nurse walk out of the room to hand him to someone else to raise.
Chapter Two
Emma didn’t even know her son’s name.
The pain that enveloped her after she’d given him up for adoption had been overwhelming. Looking back she had no idea how she’d gotten through those first few months, but somehow she had. While the sting had lessened over the years, her emotions still flared up at times. Certain days were worse than others—Christmas, Mother’s Day and her son’s birthday. Each year they became easier to get through, but something was different with his birthday this year.
“I’m sorry, Em. I forgot what today was. I can’t imagine how tough this is for you every year.”
“I think of him a lot, but I’ve been doing that more than usual lately. Sometimes I wonder what he looks like and what he’s doing. Does he like sports? Is he taking piano lessons?” The list of questions was endless. Did he have her dark coloring and green eyes, or Tucker’s golden hair and brown eyes? Had he inherited their musical ability?
The puppy she held snuggled closer to her chest all warm and fuzzy, full of endless energy and unconditional love. While puppy kisses couldn’t fix all the world’s problems, they definitely helped. “The questions I understand, but it shouldn’t hurt this much. It didn’t last year. I don’t get what’s going on.”
“Have you contacted—” Avery paused for a minute, lines of concern evident on her beautiful face.
Emma recognized the awkwardness. It showed up whenever anyone considered saying a certain phrase to her.
“It’s okay. You can say the word. Parents. Have I contacted his parents?”
“Have you? Maybe they’ve changed their minds about the closed adoption. Could be they’d agree to send you photos or updates on how he’s doing. Then you wouldn’t have to wonder.”
“You know me. I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl. When I quit dating a guy I can’t be friends. How could I be happy with emails and a few pictures?”
“I wish I had an answer for you.”
Emma did, too. It would be so much easier if life came with an instruction manual. Then, during the rough spots, she could flip the book open and read the directions. For this type of life problem, do A, then B and everything will turn out great.
“I bet Tucker never thinks about me or our son.” He’d barely thought about her when they were living together. The familiar anger welled up inside her—at him for his wandering eye, and other body parts for that matter, as well as at herself for her schoolgirl foolishness. “His band with that trailer-trash Miranda Lambert imitation has a top-ten album. They’re on a world tour, performing in front of thousands of people while I’m playing weddings and anniversary parties.”
And working a day job to pay the bills.
She and Tucker had been high school sweethearts and the star vocalists in the choir. The fall after graduation they’d packed up their belongings and headed for Nashville. Soon after arriving, Emma had discovered there were hundreds of other young hopefuls who’d done the same thing, and breaking into the industry was tougher than they imagined.
Her relationship with Tucker hadn’t gone according to plan, either. Things grew rocky between them within a week and got steadily worse. Then, two days after she’d told him she was pregnant, he’d waltzed into their dumpy studio apartment and announced he didn’t love her anymore. Just like that. No buildup. No preparation. No warning. Since by that point she wasn’t all that crazy about him either, it was a horrible relief when he moved out.
“Hearing about how well his career is going has to be tough,” Avery said.
“I don’t begrudge him his success—”
“You may not, but I sure do. He didn’t earn it. Not when the song that got him noticed and led to his recording contract was yours, too.”
“I’ve changed my mind. You’re right. He doesn’t deserve it.” When Emma had stumbled across a video of him on YouTube, she’d discovered the ass had taken one of the songs they’d written, though he swore he wrote it alone, changed the lyrics slightly—emphasis on slightly—and performed it with his new band. The song’s video had received over a million hits and landed him a recording contract.
That blow had broken Emma’s spirit. Skinny because her morning sickness lasted all day, broke and depressed, she’d hit rock bottom, packed up her meager belongings and headed home to patch up her wounds. “How could I have fallen in love with such an ass?”
“Cut yourself some slack. You were young, and he was your first love.” Avery released her squirming pup, who bounded off and tackled one of his siblings.
Age and lack of experience explained her mistake with Tucker, but what about Clint? She couldn’t say the same for him, since she’d made that blunder two years ago. How could she have missed the fact that he was nothing more than Tucke
r version two-point-oh?
“We need to make a Tucker voodoo doll,” Avery said.
“Now, why didn’t I think of that? The idea has definite possibilities.”
“I wonder if he’d lose his voice if we stuck pins where his vocal chords are.”
“Better yet, let’s harpoon him in another more private area and hope he loses use of that little piece of equipment.” That would serve him right for hooking up with every blonde who could carry a tune—even if she needed a bucket to do it—when they were together.
“That’s the spirit. All guys aren’t like him, you know.”
Avery had always believed in love and happily ever after. Even after her high school sweetheart had left for Stanford and broken up with her via email. Then, a year ago, Reed’s brother was deployed to Afghanistan and he returned to Estes Park to stay with his teenage niece. After a bumpy ride, the pair had cleared the air, fallen in love all over again and married soon after that.
“If you want to take the day off, I can handle things around here.”
Emma shook her head. “Thanks, but no, thanks. I’d rather be here and stay busy. If I go home all I’ll do is throw on sweatpants and crawl on the couch to eat Häagen-Dazs Chocolate Chocolate Chip ice cream while I watched Thelma and Louise. That’s just a pathetic pity party, and I refuse to do that.” Not now. Not when she’d come so far. “But you can help me make that voodoo doll.”
* * *
MICK HALLIGAN STOPPED when he walked into his restaurant. For a minute he stood and surveyed what he’d built. With the Formica tables, industrial-style chairs with the plastic padded seats and the country memorabilia, some people would call his place a hick bar, but looks were deceiving. His restaurant was so much more. People came to Halligan’s to connect, to celebrate special times with family and friends. Everyone, staff and customers, knew each other and their lives were interconnected. They meant something to each other.
“I’ve got a plan, but I need your help,” Mick said to his friend of almost fifty years and fellow Vietnam War vet, Gene Donovan, when he walked into the kitchen.
“Is it something for the business?” Gene asked as he stood chopping onions for the marinara sauce for the meatball sub sandwiches.
“This has to do with family. Mine and yours.”
“You know whatever it is, I’m in.”
“I knew you would be, but I thought I’d ask anyway.”
Mick sometimes wondered how he would’ve made it through the hell of Vietnam if Gene hadn’t been there in the trenches with him. They’d kept each other sane through the madness. Then, when shrapnel had torn Mick apart and he’d lain in a heap bleeding like a stuck pig, Gene had literally saved his life. Risking his own neck under heavy gunfire, Gene had made his way to Mick and dragged him to safety.
“I’ve been thinking about what matters in my life. It’s family, friends, my ranch and this place. What good is having land and a business if I don’t have anyone to leave them to?”
“You’ve got your daughter.”
A daughter who’d written him off along with the rest of her past. Having a cowboy, Vietnam vet father who ran a country-western bar didn’t sit well with Kimberly or her hotshot corporate executive husband.
“Fat lot of good that does me.” When he’d realized Kimberly wouldn’t visit him for fear of her husband learning about her wild-child past and the son she’d given up for adoption, Mick had offered to come to California, but she always had an excuse why that wouldn’t work. They were moving or remodeling the house. Her husband was in the middle of a big deal at work. While he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, Mick had finally got the message and stopped asking.
“If I leave everything to Kimberly, all she’ll do is sell what I’ve built and pocket the money. I’m not about to spend eternity rolling over in my grave because a developer built condos or a resort on my land, and I don’t even want to think about what she’d do to this place.”
Gene nodded in agreement. “That would make for an unhappy afterlife. What do you have in mind to do about it?”
“I’ve been thinking about Jamie. He understands the way I feel about the land and this place.” Mick smiled at the memories and the wonder in his grandson’s eyes when they’d ridden around the ranch for the first time. The kid had taken to being on a horse like he’d been on one all his life. Some things were just in a man’s blood, and Mick knew the land was in Jamie’s. “I want to leave everything to him.”
“Then do it.”
“I intend to, but I miss having family around. I miss Jamie. He’s my only grandchild. Hell, my only real family other than you.” Since his wife, Carol, had died five years ago, the loneliness had settled into Mick’s bones and his soul.
Mick glanced at the clock on the wall. The other staff wouldn’t arrive for at least a half hour. Good. He didn’t want anyone overhearing what he was about to say to his old friend. “I’m going to tell you something, but you’ve got to promise not to tell anyone.”
“Haven’t I kept more than one of your secrets over the years?”
“You sure have, but this one’s different. It’s not my secret.”
Gene glared at him. “Like that makes a difference to me.”
“Jamie’s hand didn’t heal right.” Mick explained about his grandson’s troubles. “I keep thinking about when I had to give up music. It damn near killed me. This place, your friendship and the love of a good woman saved me.”
“Are you getting to the point about the plan and needing my help anytime soon?”
“Hold your horses. I had to tell you all this before I could get to my idea,” Mick said, taking his time despite his friend’s good-natured ribbing. “Jamie and your Emma would be perfect for each other. Who knows what would’ve happened between them if he hadn’t gone back to Juilliard at the end of that summer. Hell, they might even be married by now.”
“That’s a mighty big leap you just took. Sure, they dated, but as I remember, it wasn’t anything serious.”
“If you ask me, it would’ve gotten serious if Jamie had been planning on sticking around. You can’t tell me there wasn’t a spark between our grandkids. I saw it. Could be all they need now is a little nudge to get things restarted. What harm can some matchmaking do? Mothers and grandmothers have been doing it for years.”
“And men have been telling them to knock it off.”
“Since we can lead the horses to water but can’t make them drink, what do we have to lose?”
“They could get so mad they won’t speak to us,” Gene said as he stirred the simmering barbeque sauce for the pulled pork sandwiches. “That’s a real possibility considering how Emma feels about musicians. She rates them between politicians and lawyers.”
“This is my grandson we’re talking about. Emma won’t find a better man than Jamie anywhere.”
“That’s true, but considering the way Kimberly acted when Jamie contacted her, do you think he can get past the fact that Emma gave up a child for adoption?”
Mick still couldn’t believe a child of his and Carol’s had acted the way their daughter had when Jamie had contacted her ten years ago. Instead of welcoming the eighteen-year-old, his daughter had told Jamie she wanted nothing to do with him and slammed the door in his face. Then she’d called Mick, who’d told her to be honest with her husband, insisting a man who’d leave her over getting pregnant at sixteen and giving the child up wasn’t worth holding on to. What he’d got for his advice was a lecture about what a wonderful man his son-in-law was and a request that Mick not have any contact with Jamie, either.
He’d told his daughter straight-out that she could do what she wanted with her life, but she couldn’t tell him what to do with his, and he’d set out to locate his grandson. When he’d found Jamie a few months later, he’d invited him for a visit, and Jamie had flown to
Colorado for spring break.
“I can’t tell you why, but I know your granddaughter and my grandson are meant to be together. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”
Gene shook his head. “I would like to see Emma happy with a man who’ll treat her right. What do you have in mind?”
“First, I think I’ll be too sick tomorrow to pick Jamie up at the airport, and you’ll be too busy handling everything here at the restaurant to go.”
“And I’ll ask my granddaughter to help out by picking up Jamie.”
“That’s the first step.”
* * *
THE ENTICING SMELL of tomatoes sautéing with garlic wafted through the air as Emma rushed in the kitchen door to Halligan’s. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled, making her wish she hadn’t punched the snooze button so many times she had to skip breakfast. Now all she could think of was how her grandfather’s meatball sub would hit the spot.
After giving Grandpa G a quick kiss on his weathered cheek, she asked, “What’s so important that I have to drop everything and come over here?”
While she loved her family, sometimes she wished there weren’t so many of them, or that a few of them lived farther away. Both sets of grandparents, her father and three older brothers all living in one town of eight thousand people could be overwhelming. Worse yet, she couldn’t catch a cold without her entire family knowing about it within an hour, and half of them calling with advice, and yet, how often had she been at family gatherings and felt completely alone?
“Mick called. He’s sick, so I have to handle things around here.”
“It’s not anything serious, is it?”
Her grandfather shook his head. “It’s just a stomach bug, but there’s no way he can make the drive to Denver to pick up his grandson at the airport. He wanted me to ask if you’d help him out by picking Jamie up.”
She hadn’t thought about Jamie Westland in a long time. For two summers when she was in high school they’d worked together at Halligan’s. They’d even dated a few times after she’d broken up with Tucker when she’d discovered he’d been two-timing her with Monica Ritz. Had that been a big red flag waving in her face, warning her of what life would be like with Tucker, or what?