My Wildest Dream: Whisper Lake #2

by Barbara Freethy

  "But you're not a pushover."

  "No, which is why there is often conflict. This trip is probably a mistake or at the very least a waste of time."

  "It's never a waste of time to explore a new idea."

  "We'll see. What are you going to do tonight?"

  "I haven't thought that far ahead." Seeing Brodie after work every day had become a very nice habit.

  "Maybe you should work on that song in your notebook."

  "It's not a song."

  "Not yet. But it could be. What are you singing tomorrow for the kids? Something new or an old favorite?"

  "I don't have anything new, so it will be one of the first songs I wrote as a young girl. It's about chasing butterflies, something Lizzie and I used to do in the summer. I think the kids can relate. Of course, the song is about more than chasing butterflies; it's about going for your dreams."

  "It sounds inspiring."

  "I hope so."

  A tense silence fell between them.

  "I should go," he said finally, pushing back his chair.

  She got up as well and forced a smile onto her face. "Good-bye, Brodie. Good luck with everything."

  His lips tightened. "Don't say it like you're never going to see me again."

  "Things could change for you in a big way after this trip."

  "We'll still see each other."

  "I don't think you should make any promises," she said quietly, feeling like her heart was about to break. She needed to get Brodie out of her kitchen very soon, because she was suddenly feeling like she might cry.

  His jaw tightened. "Chelsea—"

  "Don't, Brodie. Whatever you're going to say, don't. Go hear your offer. And don't worry about me."

  "I'll call you from LA. That's a promise I can keep."

  "Okay."

  He gripped her shoulders, gave her a hard kiss filled with pent-up emotion, and then he left. She let out a breath. The house was suddenly so quiet, so empty.

  It felt like the end. She hoped it wasn't.

  The school day passed slowly, and Chelsea was haunted by Travis's empty chair. She wished she could talk to him again, reassure herself that he was okay. By the time school ended, she'd talked herself into a quick visit to his house. She still had his mail truck in her bag. It was a good reason to stop by, so she could give it back to him.

  Neither Brodie nor Adam would probably approve of the visit; they'd want her to stay out of the situation, but Travis had sat in her classroom for six weeks, and she wanted to make sure he was all right.

  The Walker house was quiet, but there was a car in the driveway. She went up to the door and rang the bell. The door opened a crack. She saw Kimberly in the shadows.

  "What do you want?" Kimberly asked.

  She gave her a sad smile, seeing the young woman’s red eyes and puffy nose. "I'm sorry about what's happened. I wanted to make sure Travis is okay."

  "How could he be okay? His grandfather is an arsonist."

  "I know. I'm sorry."

  "They say he's probably been doing it his whole life. I can't believe it. He was always my role model. I started working for the post office because of him, and now I hear he may have been using the vacation mail blocks to find houses to burn down. It's awful." Kimberly frowned as a car pulled up in front of the house. "You better come in. That's probably another reporter."

  She slid into the house as Kimberly quickly shut the door behind her. "Is Travis here?"

  "He's in his room. The only good news is that his mom is coming home on emergency leave. She'll be here tonight."

  "What does Travis know?"

  "I'm not sure. The police talked to both of us this morning, but they took him in a separate room, so I don't know what they told him or what he said. He knows his mom is coming home. He has been sitting in the window seat in his room ever since. I guess he's looking for her."

  "Do you mind if I talk to him?"

  "You can try. His room is upstairs, first door on the right."

  As she went up the stairs and down a hallway filled with pictures, it felt so strange to see George Walker as a happy, smiling, family man. He'd hid a dark secret for a very long time, a secret that had probably killed at least one person—maybe more.

  She paused in the doorway of Travis's room. It was very neat, and she had a feeling Travis was responsible for that. He liked organization, even at school. It bothered him when things were messy.

  "Travis," she said.

  He turned his head and gave her a long look.

  She walked over to the window seat and sat down next to him. "I heard your mom is coming home. That's exciting."

  He didn't react to her words. She pulled his toy mail truck out of her bag. "I brought this back to you."

  He took the truck and put it on the windowsill. As he did so, she realized that his window overlooked the remains of the house across the street. Was this the scene he'd drawn? The house, the van, his view of the fire?

  "You were awake when the fire started, weren't you? But you didn't want your grandfather to know. You probably didn't want to get in trouble."

  "Grandpa was there," Travis said suddenly, his voice almost catching her by surprise. He pointed his finger to the house across the street.

  "He was at the house before the fire?"

  Travis nodded.

  "You wanted me to know that, didn't you? But you couldn’t tell me. That’s why you showed me the mail truck." She realized how scared and tormented Travis must have been.

  "Fire is bad," he said.

  "You don't have to worry, Travis. There won't be any more fires." She couldn't help wondering if Travis had thought his grandpa might set their house on fire. How terrified he must have been in his head.

  "Mommy," he said suddenly, a pained look in his eyes.

  "She'll be here soon." She wanted to give him a hug, but Travis had personal boundaries she couldn't break. "We had a good time in class this year, didn't we? If you want to bring your mom to school tomorrow, you can hear me sing at the assembly."

  Travis's eyes lit up and he vigorously nodded.

  "Good. I'll see you then."

  After leaving Travis's house, she headed home. As she drove down her block, her gaze went to Brodie's house, and she couldn't help thinking about him—again. In truth, he'd been on her mind most of the day. He'd texted her an hour ago to tell her he was leaving for the Denver airport. That drive would take about two hours and then he'd have a two-hour flight to LA. California wasn't very far away, but right now it felt like Brodie was going to the moon. Any place that wasn't across the street was too far.

  She already missed him terribly, and he hadn't been gone a day yet. If he took the job in LA, she was in store for some heartache. She'd gotten in too deep to avoid that, but she couldn't regret their time together. It had been amazing. Being able to trust Brodie had somehow made it easier for her to trust herself.

  That would make a good line in a song, she thought. She'd have to write it down when she got home.

  As she turned in to her driveway, she stopped short of the garage, realizing she'd left the remote inside. When she got out of the car, another vehicle pulled up in front of her house.

  It was Gianna. She walked across the lawn, meeting Gianna on the sidewalk. "Hi there. What are you doing here?"

  "Lizzie told me that you're going to sing at the school tomorrow."

  "I'm going to try. We'll see how it goes."

  "Are you nervous?"

  "Yes. But I want to do it. I need to do it."

  Gianna's warm gaze washed over her. "Then this seems like a good time to give you these."

  "Give me what?" she asked as Gianna walked around her car and popped open the trunk.

  She pulled out a very familiar and very worn guitar case and handed it to her. She followed up with a second case containing her electric guitar. Her gut clenched at the sight of them.

  "I believe these are yours," Gianna said.

  She felt an intense wave of
emotion as she glanced down at the case that had been her constant companion for a very long time. "I gave my guitars to your aunt to sell in her antiques store when I first came back to Whisper Lake. She couldn't sell them?"

  "She didn't try. She thought you'd want them back one day. When I took over for her last month, she told me to keep them tucked away. But with you singing again, well, I thought you might want them back."

  Her eyes watered. She felt like she'd come full circle. "I think I might cry."

  "Don't do that," Gianna said worriedly. "I can take them back to the store."

  "No. I might cry because I've really missed them."

  Relief filled Gianna's gaze. "Oh, great."

  "Thank you so much, Gianna, and tell your aunt I appreciate her thoughtfulness."

  "I will."

  "Do you want to come in?"

  "I have to meet Zach. Do you need help carrying the guitars into the house?"

  "No. I've got them," she said, picking up the second guitar. "I used to trek all over Nashville with these guitars. They're old friends."

  "I hope you can use them again to make music, to make magic."

  "I hope so, too," she whispered.

  The one-song-only school concert suddenly felt like the beginning of something bigger.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Thursday morning, Brodie started the day with breakfast with his dad at the iconic Beverly Hills Hotel. Then they drove into Century City for a meeting with the network executives. The thirty-second-floor conference room with the floor-to-ceiling views of LA reminded him he was a long way from Whisper Lake.

  The slick presentation from all the interested parties took almost two hours. There were sports videos, projected interview subjects, possible shooting locations and dates, and a great deal of discussion about the overall concept and potential sponsors. A large sportswear company, whose logo he'd once worn, was interested as well as a popular energy drink manufacturer.

  Watching his father in action was quite impressive. He was definitely in his element, sounding intelligent, shrewd, insightful, and confident.

  Brodie had a feeling he was not coming across quite the same way as his dad kept frowning in his direction. At one point, his father asked him if he needed some caffeine to get his energy level up.

  He had accepted a cup of coffee, feeling more fatigued than he had in a while, although he thought it was more emotional weariness. He was conflicted about why he was even in LA. And while everything sounded exciting, he wasn't completely sure how much he could believe.

  Being back with these people reminded him of all his previous meetings with sponsors and agents, how he'd often felt talked over, when, in fact, he'd been the talent. He'd been the one upon whom so many careers had been built.

  Just before noon, they took a break while lunch was set up in the executive dining room. He got up from the table and walked over to the window, to get a better look at the view. Then he heard a familiar voice behind him.

  "Not a bad view, but not like the one we saw from the Titlis descent."

  He whirled around to look into the laughing brown eyes of Trent Thompson otherwise known as TNT for his explosive style of downhill skiing. Trent had been a competitor and a friend for a very long time, but they hadn't seen each other in at least two years.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked in amazement.

  "I recently joined your dad's firm as an agent. He thought I might want to say hello, and he was right. How the hell are you, Brodie?"

  "I'm good. You?" He saw no trace of the injury that had sent Trent to the hospital a year after him.

  "Excellent. It's nice to make money without having to hurl myself down a mountain."

  "But you loved that."

  "So did you. But we both always knew that kind of excitement couldn’t last forever. You can't push the envelope the way we did without being aware of the risk."

  "That's true. I just didn't think my end would come up as soon as it did."

  "Your timing sucked. As did mine." Trent gave him a commiserating smile. "But look at us now—I'm an agent, and you're going to be a television star."

  "Not sure about star," he said dryly. "But the project is interesting."

  "Your dad says you haven't committed yet."

  "There's a lot to think about. I have a life in Colorado. I'm a cop."

  "I heard. But your dad said you're ready for a change."

  "I think he's ready for me to change."

  "Well, I don't know if they told you yet, but your job comes with a Malibu beach house rental, and after lunch I get to take you there."

  "Seriously?" he asked in amazement.

  "They're pulling out all the stops. They want you bad."

  "I can't figure out why. There are other ex-skiers who could take this over—yourself included."

  "I'm not Brodie McGuire. I didn't crash on my way to an Olympic gold medal. I didn't lead three national teams to historic victories. I didn’t inspire a legion of young skiers. You're a legend in the sport. And it's much easier to sell a legend than a guy who did all right but no better than a dozen other guys."

  "You're selling yourself too short."

  "Just telling the truth. And you'll be able to shoot on some of the prettiest mountains in the world. That must be appealing to you—to go back to where it all began."

  It was both appealing and surprisingly uninteresting. Going back to where it began would only remind him that he couldn't actually go back.

  "So, you got a woman in Colorado?" Trent asked. Then he grinned. "That's a stupid question, right? Of course, you've got a woman. Does she want to move to LA?"

  "I'm pretty sure that's the last place she'd want to move."

  "I bet you can convince her."

  "What about you?" he asked, ignoring Trent's comment.

  "I'm engaged to Allison Crower."

  He smiled at that piece of news. Allison had been on their Olympic ski team. "That's great. She was a fun girl."

  "We had a good tribe back in the day, didn't we?"

  He nodded, thinking about the skiers he'd traveled the world with. They'd pushed each other to be the best they could be. That kind of camaraderie and shared experience was something he'd missed.

  “I think they want us in the dining room now,” Trent said. "We can catch up over lunch. I'd like to hear more about your woman."

  He nodded and followed him down the hallway, thinking that Chelsea was her own woman, not his, and at this very moment in time, she was facing a big hurdle. He wished he was there with her. He would have liked to support her.

  But she didn't need him to sing again. She had it in her, and she was ready.

  This might be the beginning of her return to the career she'd left.

  Unlike him, she could go back.

  Which begged the question again: what the hell was he doing in LA?

  The last day of school had included playground games, arts and crafts, and a book fair. Now it was time for the final assembly in the school auditorium. Several of the classes were putting on performances, and as Chelsea stood in the wings, watching elementary school kids belting their hearts out, her nerves began to fade. This wasn't about being perfect or being a star; it was about singing, sharing her voice, her music.

  With one more group before her, she glanced out into the auditorium and saw Travis sitting with a woman who had to be his mother. She was so happy they'd come. Travis needed his mom now more than ever. Along with the children in her class, and their parents, as well as the rest of the school she also had family and friends in the audience.

  Lizzie was in the third row, along with Adam, Gianna, and Hannah. She couldn't believe they'd taken time out of their day to come to this. But she knew it wasn't about the assembly; it was about love and friendship.

  She'd run to Whisper Lake to heal, and that's exactly what had happened.

  Her heart was whole again—at least at the moment. She was very aware of Brodie's absence. Having him here wo
uld have been the icing on the cake.

  Ashley came forward and gave her a worried look. "You're ready, right?"

  She was quite sure that even if she said no, the very determined and bossy Ashley would not let her back down now. She had planned this assembly and like everything she did, it had to be perfect. "I'm ready," she replied, taking her guitar out of its case.

  Ashley gave her a look of relief. "I can't tell you how much my daughter and her friends are looking forward to this. They've been playing your songs nonstop since everyone realized who you were. I mean, I knew who you were a long time ago, and so did some of the other moms, but we were trying to respect your privacy."

  "I appreciate that."

  As applause rang out, Ashley motioned her forward. "You're on."

  She'd heard those words a million times in her life, and just like always, a tingle of excitement shot down her spine as she walked onto the stage.

  There were no bright lights, no big crowd, no band behind her, and that was all good. There was a chair and a microphone, and that's all she needed. It was how she had begun.

  She cleared her throat and said, "This is one of the first songs I wrote. I was about twelve at the time, and I had a lot of big dreams. I hope you all like it."

  She strummed her guitar and began to sing, the richness of her voice surprising her. She'd thought she'd sound shaky as she had the night before. But her tone was perfect, and as she sang, all the nerves faded away. It was just her and the music. And she wanted to give the kids a moment to remember.

  Maybe she also wanted to give herself that moment.

  When the song ended, she took a bow, smiling at the cheers and applause from the crowd. She thanked them and then walked off the stage as the principal stepped up to deliver the final good-bye.

  As the assembly ended and the crowd dispersed, she moved down the stairs and into the auditorium.

  "That was amazing," Lizzie said, giving her a big hug.

  "Truly great," Gianna put in.

  "Out of this world," Hannah added.

  "You are all too kind. Thank you for coming. I know you had to squeeze this in on your lunch break."