“I get the LBD part—little black dress—but what’s an LPD?” Jorrie asked.
“Little powdered donuts. I could eat the things until I died. When I was pregnant, I ate them every day. Intense cravings for them, along with any kind of pie or milkshake from The Windmill.”
“Well, I think you look great,” Jorrie said, and meant it.
Hannah thanked her. “That’s what Kyle keeps saying too.”
“And he’s right, of course,” Pepper said, joining them.
Hannah asked if anyone had seen Kyle, and Pepper said he was at the edge of the stage.
“One of the security guards felt sick and went back to the visitors’ center,” Pepper explained. “Kyle took up his post in the guy’s absence.”
The three women turned to see Kyle and Brady talking together near the edge of the stage, with Mack behind them, signing a few autographs. Mack turned his head, and Jorrie locked eyes with him.
“I want to get out of here,” Hannah griped. “Lucy is up at the house babysitting Jamie.”
“Is this the first time you’ve been away from the baby this long?” Pepper asked.
“Yeah,” Hannah admitted. “All of three hours.”
The crowd was mostly gone; only a few stragglers remained. Jorrie saw a familiar face moving toward the stage, and her body tensed. All her senses were on alert as the not-quite stranger addressed Mack, then Brady, and was greeted warmly by both.
Then the man raised his arm and something in his hand glinted in the dim light.
26
Kyle lunged in front of Brady and Mack.
Two quick bangs exploded over the distillery grounds and Hannah screamed.
Kyle dropped to the ground as Brady tackled the assailant. From nowhere, Goose, Walker, and Jon appeared and dog piled on the hapless attacker, the curses of all mingling in an obscene cacophony of hatred, alarm, and despair.
Hannah fell on the ground at her husband’s side. Kyle was on his back, and Jorrie saw dark red wet blotches on Kyle’s chest.
“Call 911 and go get Miranda Chaplin!” screamed Goose, who was still struggling with the attacker. Jorrie turned to see Harriet flee in the direction of the visitors’ center as Pepper pulled out a phone and began to call for help.
“No! No! No!” Hannah moaned, and put her hands on her husband’s face. “Everything was perfect! Everything was perfect!” she wailed. “Not like this! Not like this! It’s not supposed to be this way!”
Mack jumped off the stage and put his arm around Hannah, but she threw off his embrace as Jorrie approached and knelt beside her.
“Kyle, please…,” she pleaded as she held her husband’s face in her hands. “I’m here, I’m here…,” she said as she gripped his limp hand.
After a short pause in which Kyle made no discernible movements, Hannah began to weep uncontrollably.
“No… no… no…,” Hannah cried as Miranda, followed by Rachel, Lila, and CiCi, reappeared.
“Get her away from him!” Miranda barked.
Mack, along with Rachel and Lila, pulled Hannah away from her husband. Miranda ripped Kyle’s shirt open and began to check for signs of life.
Brady moved to join Rachel and embraced her.
“Kyle just saved my life,” Brady said in a shaky voice as Rachel buried her head in his chest.
“And mine too,” Mack said and put his arm around Jorrie, who stood next to him.
The group formed a protective barrier around Hannah, who could not be consoled. Jon and Walker sat on the attacker while Goose grabbed the cuffs from Kyle’s belt and cuffed the assailant, who was still face-down on the ground.
Mack gave Jorrie a little hug, then detached himself from the group when he saw that Goose and the other men had pulled the attacker to his feet.
“Why did you do that, Gary?” he pleaded. “What the hell did I ever do to you?”
Gary sneered at his former teacher.
“You got the best man I ever knew fired! And after that, my granny ditched Sims. Guess all she wanted was a meal ticket from him, and when he lost his job, she had no more use for him.”
“But why go after the judge?” asked Mack, his voice shaky.
“It was because of him that my daddy’s in prison for the rest of his life!”
“He took Judge Craft hostage, you fool!” Goose shouted.
Gary turned a crazed countenance to Jorrie.
“And you! You put my daddy in prison too! You bitch! Wouldn’t let him plead to something…”
Jorrie recoiled as she realized she had been the prosecutor on the case. A man had taken Judge Craft hostage a few years earlier. It was one of the first serious felonies she’d handled by herself.
“Let’s get him away from here,” said Jon.
Jon and Walker led Gary several yards away while Goose went to Kyle’s side.
“I know first aid,” he explained when Miranda looked at him.
“We… we might be beyond that…”
Hannah doubled over in tears.
“I never learned it… I never learned it… he was going to teach me… I’ll never be able to sing it…”
Mack spun around. “Sing? Sing what?”
Hannah continued to cry, but Mack went to her, took her hands in his, and made Hannah look at him.
“That song… your song… the one you sang at the wedding… I never learned it. I was going to sing it to Jamie as a lullaby… I heard Kyle sing it a few times to the baby… but I never learned it…”
“Then let’s sing it right now,” Mack said. He looked over his shoulder at Miranda and Goose. Miranda had started doing mouth-to-mouth on Kyle with Goose’s assistance. “Everyone’s going to sing it, and sing it loud so Kyle can hear us.”
Mack stepped back from Hannah and, still holding her hands, began to sing.
'Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free…
Mack clung to Hannah’s hands, forcing her to look at him through her sobs rather than at the activity on the ground. Cries and the wails of distant yet approaching sirens mingled with the song, as the small group continued to sing, giving the only thing they could—the small comfort of a familiar tune in a disaster.
Halfway through the second rendition, Miranda bolted upright.
“Oh, God,” Miranda cried as the group continued to sing.
“Yeah, yeah!” Goose cried, holding Kyle’s hand as he looked down upon the stricken sheriff. “Come on, stay with us! Stay with us!”
“He opened his eyes! Keep singing! Keep singing!” Miranda shouted as the EMTs arrived.
Everyone continued to sing, and sing loudly, as the EMTs worked on Kyle and got him onto a stretcher and rolled him away toward the waiting ambulance in the visitors’ center parking lot. They loaded Kyle into the vehicle and told others to follow in their own vehicles.
As Bo insisted to Hannah that he would drive her to the hospital, she looked around distractedly until her eyes landed on Mack. She went to him and threw her arms around him, shocking him.
“Thank you,” she said in a rough voice. “You saved his life.”
Mack returned the hug. “I don’t know about that. But he sure as hell saved mine.”
The ambulance departed with sirens screaming and lights flashing, and the rest of the group scrambled to their vehicles to follow.
In the sudden and consuming silence, Jorrie and Mack were left standing together on the perimeter of the parking lot. They turned to each other and in the next second embraced.
“I hope he’ll be okay,” Mack whispered.
“Yeah,” Jorrie said as they pulled apart. She wiped tears from her eyes and sniffed. “What you did…”
“I didn’t do anything but sing.”
She smiled weakly, the memory of a June wedding returning to her.
“Once again, you had the perfect gift. So… when are you gone?” she asked.
“Tomorrow.”
“Can we—would you like to—I don’t know—go to The Windmill now? Or
dare I even suggest going up Springfield Knob?”
“I think that’s not for the best,” she whispered.
He nodded, his breathing labored. She wanted to leave, but knew she couldn’t until he said his bit. And the truth was that she wanted to savor these last moments with him.
“I love you, Jorrie,” he said simply. “And I meant it: I will be back. Either in six weeks or six months after that. This is home, the place I love and where people care about me. Hell, a man almost gave his life for me just a few minutes ago. How can this not be the place I belong?
“And wherever you are, I’m going to knock on your door and tell you I’m back. So I don’t consider us done with each other until you slam the door in my face after I’ve come back to Kentucky. That’s when I’ll know it’s really over.”
“I love you, Mack, but I’m not stupid. I know when you go, you’ll be gone for good. You have a different, better life ahead of you, and I can see that. I’m not a fool.”
“You’re a fool if you think I’d stay away forever,” he said, pulling her to him.
She didn’t resist and allowed him to bring his lips to hers, to taste her, to tease her, to give her this one last kiss that she knew would haunt her forever. Jorrie had missed the feel of his strong arms and his scent—that earthy, sweaty smell she would always associate with Mack.
Feeling herself reeling and falling too easily under his spell, she broke away.
“Don’t go,” he pleaded with her as she moved from his side.
She shook her head. “Time to go, Mack. Time for both of us to go.”
Knowing that if she walked with him back to the concert area she would be completely at the mercy of his charms and the desires of her own body, she said good-bye and made for her car in the lot, abandoning her gear.
It was just as well to leave it behind, along with the memories, the music, and Mack.
“I love you, Jorrie Jones,” he said, and she stopped briefly and looked over her shoulder at him. “And I’ll be back here. That’s a promise.”
In six weeks, Mack felt like he’d aged six years—at least. The rigors of performing at the resort while holding down his teaching job in Bourbon Springs had been exhausting. Mercifully, his six-week gig at the resort was over, and he headed out of Nashville to Bourbon Springs for the long Thanksgiving weekend, looking forward to getting home and getting some much-needed rest.
Webb had called him before he’d left town, telling him that he’d know by the end of the weekend whether the resort wanted to hire him for the full six-month deal. Mack suspected that his performances and consistently strong audience numbers would push the resort in the direction of hiring him for that longer period. He knew that meant a move to Nashville, probably shortly after the holidays.
Thank God for Lucy Davenport during these last several weeks.
She’d cared for Albert like her own child, and he knew his grandpa was happy to have a companion. She could handle Albert because he respected Lucy in a way that he just didn’t when it came to Mack.
And, if truth be told, Mack suspected Albert was sweet on Lucy. He saw the same silly, teasing behaviors in his grandfather when Lucy was around that he’d seen when Jorrie had been a visitor in their home.
Mack hoped that Lucy wasn’t getting tired of being with Albert. She helped at Hannah and Kyle’s house with the baby as Kyle continued his miraculous recovery from being shot twice in the chest.
After his arrival at the Bourbon Springs hospital the night of his shooting, he had been evacuated by helicopter to Lexington where he remained for the next two weeks. He’d heard from his grandpa that even though Kyle was lucky to be alive, he wasn’t back to work yet.
If not for the stupid money, he’d blow off the six-month deal he expected from the resort and return to Bourbon Springs for good. He was miserable in Nashville, although he’d enjoyed a nice measure of success. But he wasn’t happy away from home and away from Jorrie.
Would she still be interested in him come the summer, when the six-month gig was over? Or would she slam the door in his face? He definitely planned to make good on his promise and go knock on her door when he got his house in order.
He put the thought aside and tried to keep his eyes and mind on the road, but another problem entered his noggin: Gary’s criminal case.
Mack was a witness, and the prosecutor had told him that he would definitely be called to testify in Gary’s attempted murder trial, set for sometime next spring. It was a long way off, but Mack thought about the trial every day, as he did about what had happened at that last fateful concert.
Gary had been behind all the attacks and vandalism except for the tire slashings. He had admitted to everything but that little nasty bit of vandalism, leading all to believe that had indeed been the handiwork of Sims. After his initial confession, however, he’d clammed up. The general belief—or hope—was that Gary would offer more information about Sims in a possible deal to get some leniency.
It was nothing short of a miracle that Gary hadn’t killed anyone. Mack had heard from Pepper that no one understood how Kyle had survived; the shots he took should’ve been fatal. Pepper claimed that Hannah firmly believed that the singing had brought Kyle back from the brink. Mack wasn’t so sure that a song had that kind of power, but if it made Hannah Davenport feel any better, he was glad the notion comforted her.
It was getting close to lunchtime, and Mack felt his stomach protesting his failure to eat a decent breakfast. He was still an hour away from home, so Mack took an exit off the interstate at Elizabethtown and headed into a fast-food place to get a quick bite and get back on the road as soon as possible.
He sat in the crowded restaurant and wolfed down his food, wishing he’d eaten in his truck due to the noise. He pulled out his phone and checked his e-mails and messages. He had an e-mail from Webb, wishing him a happy Thanksgiving and telling him to rest his right arm.
“I want it to be plenty rested so you won’t have any problem signing that new contract!” he’d written.
Webb was eager and Mack couldn’t fault him for that. But Mack did not share Webb’s enthusiasm for the new deal, despite the money. It felt like indentured servitude rather than a freeing opportunity.
Mack was about to put his phone away and polish off his lunch when it rang; it was Drake Mercer. He hesitated; Mack wasn’t in the mood for bad news. Drake had continued to negotiate with the plaintiffs, trying to put the bloodsuckers off until the new year and work out some kind of payment plan now that he had decent money coming in. But they were demanding a judgment so they could garnish his wages directly, and Drake was doing everything to prevent that.
Mack answered and braced himself for the worst.
“You on your way home?” Drake asked.
“Yep,” Mack said and popped a fry into his mouth. “I’m assuming this isn’t good news if you’re calling me the day before the holiday.”
“Actually, I’m about to tell you something that should make you very, very thankful.”
Mack sat up in his booth seat and leaned over the table.
“Did you work out a deal? A payment plan?”
“Better than that. Your debt has been paid off.”
Mack held the phone out from his head and looked at it confusedly.
“Did I hear you right? Paid off? How?”
“That’s what I said.”
“But who did that?”
“Hannah Davenport.”
Mack was stunned into silence and listened as Drake explained that the plaintiff’s attorney had contacted him that morning and said that they would be filing a motion to dismiss since they’d received full payment.
“I’m just as baffled as you, Mack. I guess she knew about the lawsuit—it was public record, after all—and took it upon herself to contact the other side and ask how much you owed. I’m telling you, it’s over. The other attorney sent me a copy of the check, and it was for the full amount. You’re free.”
“Have you talked
to Hannah, to ask her why she did this?” Mack asked, a little irked.
He didn’t like the idea of someone paying off his debts. He’d worked like a dog for the past several months to make ends meet and keep the debt-wolves away from his door. But that didn’t mean he wanted or welcomed a handout.
“She only said it was something she had to do,” Drake replied. “I told her you’d probably contact her about this.”
“You bet I will,” Mack said, and ended the call.
27
He raced back to Craig County and was at Old Garnet within the hour, his pace fueled by an eagerness to get home to Albert as well as intense frustration. Mack ran through several things he’d like to say to Hannah, speeches ranging from the outraged to the eternally grateful.
Most of all, he just wanted an answer.
Why had she done it? Why pay off the debt of someone she only marginally knew? Did she think that he’d come back to Bourbon Springs and do the concerts next summer if she got him out of his big hole of debt?
If so, she needed to think again. He didn’t like feeling beholden to anyone; having the debt over his head for so long had been a miserable experience in that regard. And while he was happy to be free of the lawsuit, Mack felt like he’d merely traded one burden for another.
When he pulled off Ashbrooke Pike and onto the distillery ground, all his senses went on alert. The last time he’d been here had been that horrible night that Kyle had been shot. And that was the last time he’d seen or spoken with Jorrie.
Mack parked at the far end of the lot, even though there were plenty of parking spaces closer to the visitors’ center doors. There wasn’t much of a crowd the day before a major holiday, and Mack suddenly needed the solitude, despite being alone for the better part of the past three hours on a boring drive. He found himself weepy, completely overcome with the recollections of the last time he’d been in this special place.
Bourbon Springs Box Set: Volume III, Books 7-9 (Bourbon Springs Box Sets Book 3) Page 24