Whiskey Lullaby

by Keren Hughes

  He really is the sweetest, most thoughtful little boy. His words make me smile.

  “Aw, Hardin, that’s such a lovely thing to do. How about I give you a sticker instead?” she asks as she gets the things ready to glue the cut.

  He nods his head but sits upright and keeps the rest of his body still.

  “Okay, now this might sting a little as I close the cut, Hardin. Do you want to hold Mummy’s hand with the other one?”

  Holding out his uninjured arm, he takes my offered hand. I squeeze his hand and smile at him.

  “I’ll be brave, Mummy.”

  “I know you will; you’re my little soldier.”

  He winces a little as the nurse presses the two sides of the cut together for a few seconds, but other than that, he’s braver than I thought he might be.

  The nurse gives us an aftercare leaflet, and once we get back into Julia’s car, I read it:

  General Advice:

  • avoid touching the glue for 24 hours

  • try to keep the wound dry for the first 5 days

  • showers are preferable to baths to avoid soaking the wound

  • use a shower cap if the wound is on the head

  • pat the wound dry if it gets wet – don't rub it

  Things to avoid during the first 5 days:

  • don’t stick a plaster on the skin glue

  • don’t put creams or lotions on the glue

  • don’t wear clothing that could rub against the glue

  • don’t pick at the glued area

  • don’t brush hair around the glued area

  I guess that’s easy enough, except we’ll have to be careful in the shower. The nurse was kind enough to give us a few waterproof dressings; I just hope they work.

  Julia pulls up outside my house and gives me the number for Sandra, the lady who was with us earlier. I didn’t even think to get her number to let her know when I’d be home.

  “Thank you for everything, Julia. You really didn’t have to help.”

  “Oh, my goodness. You’ll have to go and fetch your car first. You don’t want to get clamped on the supermarket carpark.”

  “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

  “Let me take you to get it.”

  “Oh, it’ll have to wait. It’s time for Hardin to eat, and he probably has homework.”

  “You only get three hours free parking, honey. Don’t worry, let me sort something, hang on.”

  She pulls out her phone and taps away.

  “Right, that’s sorted,” she says as her phone chimes in response. “Have you still got your seatbelt on, Hardin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, good boy. Right, let’s get you two sorted out, shall we?”

  She pulls back onto the road and when we pull up, I look up at Brent’s house. There’s a knot in my stomach as he comes to the front door and waves.

  “Right, Hardin, Brent is going to look after you while I take your mummy to get her car. We’ll be back soon, okay?”

  “Cool.”

  He claps his hands together in glee as I walk around to unbuckle his belt.

  “Bye, Mummy,” he says as he kisses my cheek.

  “Bye, baby, be good.”

  “Brent,” he shouts as he heads up the steps, “I hurt my arm, but it’s glued back together now.”

  “Oh no, buddy. Were you brave at hospital?” he asks as he ruffles his hair.

  “Uh-huh. The nurse gave me a sticker, look,” he replies as he shows off his shiny sticker.

  “That’s awesome, buddy. What do you say to a nice fruit smoothie? You can come and meet Jessa too.”

  “Do you have strawberries?”

  “I sure do. Want some in your smoothie?”

  “Yes please.”

  Hardin bounces on the balls of his feet as I watch from the end of the path.

  “Is that okay with Mummy?” Brent asks, looking at me with a warm smile.

  “Sure. Are you sure you’ll be okay with him? We can take him instead of imposing.”

  “Of course. He’ll be fine here. He can play with Jessa until you girls get back.”

  “Thank you, Brent.”

  “Bye, Mummy,” Hardin say with a wave as a little blonde-haired girl comes to stand in the open doorway.

  “Bye, baby. See you soon. Be good.”

  “I promise.”

  With a wave, he dashes off with Jessa. Brent chuckles and follows them inside.

  I’m not sure it’s good to have him get attached to Brent, given the circumstances. But what’s done is done now.

  Julia turns the radio on quietly. A song plays and my breath catches in my throat as I realise it’s Brent.

  I did it all for love,

  Something I knew nothing of,

  Until the day I met you,

  And you showed me the way.

  But now I’m here without you,

  Lost in a sea of despair.

  The lyrics are beautiful, but make my heart constrict. Before I can stop them, tears start to fall. I move to wipe them away and Julia notices.

  “He wrote it for you, you know?”

  My head whips around so fast I’m not sure I haven’t given myself whiplash.

  “You didn’t know?” she asks, shock evident on her face.

  “I-I’ve n-never heard this song before,” I whisper as more tears fall.

  “It’s only available on the iTunes album. Or it will be once that version is released. They’re holding it off until—well, I guess until you’ve had a chance to hear it on the radio.”

  “I-I’m n-not sure what you mean.”

  We pull up in the car park and Julia turns to me, her eyes soft and full of compassion. She’s a stronger woman than I would be if my husband wrote a song about someone else.

  “Honey, it’s not really my place to speak for him, but Brent loves you.”

  I see the sun shining on her wedding ring and my heart hurts more than I ever thought possible.

  “B-but h-he can’t. He m-married y-you.”

  “Married me? Oh, honey, I’m not married to Brent. I’m married to one of his best friends, Evan. What made you think I was with Brent?”

  “I-I o-overheard you in the s-store earlier, talking about how handsome he was in the picture in the magazine. Sandra said you were lucky to be married to him, or y-you did, I-I can’t quite remember.”

  “Oh, honey, I was talking about Evan Winslow.”

  “A-and I-I jumped t-to c-conclusions.”

  God, I wish I could stop stuttering, but I feel like I’m stumbling over my words thanks to how hard my heart is beating.

  “Brent only has eyes for you, Caleigh.”

  Julia takes my hand in hers and softly squeezes it. The radio still plays in the background. As I take a few deep breaths, I feel tears racing down my face.

  “What If I Never Get Over You” by Lady Antebellum plays, reminding me how many times I’ve listened to it these last few weeks. I cried every time, because I wondered what would happen if I never got over Brent.

  “Don’t cry, sweetie. You can’t cry pretty, as Carrie Underwood would say. And you don’t want to end up with panda eyes.”

  I manage a small chuckle at her words.

  Julia turns the radio off, probably for fear I won’t stop crying. It feels like a dam has finally burst and now I can’t do anything to stop it as the tears cascade down my face.

  She reaches into the glove box and hands me a pack of tissues. I sniffle and thank her as I wipe my cheeks and blow my nose in a rather unladylike way.

  “You should talk to him. Or if you can’t talk, at least listen,” she softly urges.

  “Did he really write that song about me?”

  “He sure did. It was the last thing he did before leaving the band.”

  “I-I don’t know what to say.”

  “That’s why you should hear him out.”

  “I-I—”

  “As I said, it’s not my place to speak on his behalf,
but I would urge you to hear him out.”

  “We haven’t seen each other for a while.”

  “Are you scared of what he has to say?”

  Her bluntness shocks me but urges me to confess the truth.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  Julia squeezes my hand and looks at me with compassion written across her face.

  “Oh, Caleigh,” she replies softly. “Honey, there’s nothing to be scared of, unless you don’t feel the same way. But—and please correct me if I’m wrong in my assumption here—it seems like you might. After all, if we’re over someone, we don’t sit and ugly cry, do we?!”

  “I-I g-guess not, no.”

  I wipe away fresh tears and sigh.

  “Can I ask … do you still love him?”

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, I dry my eyes and make eye contact, so she knows I’m speaking the truth.

  “I really do.”

  “Then, darling, you need to go to him. Or, if you can’t or won’t do the running, let him come to you. Be open to communicating with him.”

  “I will.”

  I mentally pull up my big girl panties.

  “Thank you, Julia. Not only for your help today, but for your honesty and helping set me straight.”

  “You’re most welcome. Good luck. Although, I don’t think you’ll actually need it.”

  I open the door and thank her again before walking to my car, feeling lighter than I have all day, maybe more than I have in weeks.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Brent

  Somebody knocks on the door, so I pause the DVD and go to answer it.

  “Hi, Jules, everything okay?”

  “Well, her car wasn’t clamped, so that’s a start.”

  “I want to ask how you even ended up bumping into her, but little ears in the living room … you know?!”

  We walk into the living room and see the children sat in front of the telly. The Princess and The Frog is paused, and Evan is sitting with a beer in his hand.

  “Mummy,” Jessa squeals as she turns and sees Julia.

  Julia bends down and wraps her daughter in a hug. I go to sit down, but another knock at the door stops me.

  “Hi,” Caleigh whispers as I open the door.

  “Hi, come on in. The kids are watching a film.”

  “What are they watching?”

  I tell her as I lead her into my living room.

  “This place is beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I mean, you know the layout of the place already, but I’ve added my own touches here and there.”

  “And it looks gorgeous.”

  “Mummy,” Hardin shouts as he runs up to her.

  “Hey, baby, how’s your arm?”

  “A bit sore. Jessa and I were playing carefully until Brent said he could put a film on.”

  “Have you been a good boy?” she asks, although she knows the answer. I know she knows, because she’s a good mum, she’s intuitive, and she’s taught him well.

  “I have, haven’t I, Brent?” he asks, looking up at me.

  I smile at him as I reply that he’s been as good as gold.

  “Brent’s so funny, Mummy. He had us laughing at him doing other people’s voices.”

  “Is that so? And who were you impersonating?” she asks with a large smile on her face.

  “Doctor Fa-silly—”

  “Oh, Doctor Facilier, the bad guy?”

  “Yeah, him. I can never say his name.”

  “Well, I’m glad you had fun, baby, but we should get going so we can have something to eat. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

  “Oh,” he says, his face falling.

  “What’s the matter, baby?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No, come on, tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “We haven’t finished the film.”

  “Oh,” she says with a sigh. “Well …”

  “Caleigh, can I talk to you for one quick second?” I butt in.

  “Sure.”

  I pull her to one side and whisper so that we aren’t overheard by little ears.

  “You could stay, let him watch the rest of the film. We could get a takeaway or something.”

  “Oh.”

  I watch as her bottom lip trembles slightly.

  “I could, umm … I could always cook something for everyone … i-if y-you don’t mind me using your kitchen, that is.”

  “Sure.”

  I can practically feel myself smiling from ear to ear. This might be a one-off. It might not lead to her talking to me. But I’ll take it. For now.

  “Great. What do you have that I can make for us?”

  “There’s plenty of fresh vegetables and some chicken breasts, or there’s turkey mince. I’m sure there’s probably something else too. Depends what you want to make. Shall we go and take a look?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She smiles, and it warms me from the inside out.

  “Hardin, we’re going to stay and watch the film, okay?”

  “YAY! Thanks, Mummy.”

  “Go back into the living room and ask Evan or Julia to put the film back on, okay baby? Brent and I are going to go and see what there is for me to cook for us all.”

  “Okay, Mummy.”

  He skips off and I lead Caleigh into the kitchen. She rummages through my fridge and pulls out ingredients.

  “I don’t suppose you have any herbs and spices, do you?”

  “Actually, I do. They’re over there in the spice rack.”

  “A spice rack? For a guy that told me he couldn’t cook?” She sounds amused.

  “Yeah, I actually learned to cook some healthy basic staples, along with my mum’s lasagne.”

  “Ooh, get you. Brent Ryder, country music star extraordinaire turned master chef overnight.”

  “Are you sassing me?”

  She cocks her hip, placing a hand on it and gives me a hard stare.

  “Don’t make me beat you with a wooden spoon, Mr. Ryder.”

  My cock twitches at her words.

  “Kinky!”

  She reddens, and my heart squeezes as I realise that I’ve never seen her looking more beautiful than in this moment. She’s stunning, to put it simply.

  I don’t want to push her too far, so I show her the spice rack as well as where I keep the pots and pans. Pulling out my wok, she gets to work. She chops and dices, showing serious knife skills.

  I turn on my iPod and set it to shuffle. “Country Girl” by Luke Bryan starts to play and Caleigh’s eyes light up as she begins to shake her hips to the rhythm.

  It’s nice to see her seem so carefree around me once more, but I’m not a fool. I know she hasn’t forgiven me. She might have got part way there if I’m lucky, but she isn’t all the way over the finish line yet.

  “What are you cooking, good looking?”

  “Ah, it’s a surprise. Just wait and see.”

  She smiles at me, and damn if my heart doesn’t kick into gear, thundering against my rib cage all because she threw a smile my way.

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  “You can wash the veggies.”

  She points to the pile of vegetables she needs washing and goes back to singing. I daren’t tell her she was right about not being able to carry a tune; it might earn me a slap. But honestly, I don’t care that she’s a little off-key. She’ll always be perfect to me.

  Once I’m done, I hand her the pile of carrots, broccoli florets and other bits and pieces she managed to locate in my kitchen. She hands me a knife and I start peeling and chopping. The aromas in the kitchen, coming from what must be a sauce of some kind, smell amazing.

  “Do you have any mozzarella?”

  “I’m not sure. Did you check the fridge?”

  “I wasn’t looking for it at first. Give me a sec.”

  She leaves her pan on the heat and I find it odd that she’s cooking it all just in the wok. She’s neat and tidy, even when cooking. Me? I have a milli
on pots and pans out and the kitchen looks like a bombsite until I load the dishwasher.

  Emerging triumphant, Caleigh smiles as she slices the mozzarella. I still don’t know what it is she’s cooking, but damn it smells and looks great.

  “Next time, you need to try my chicken lasagne.”

  Next time? Maybe she’s coming around to me after all.

  “Chicken lasagne? I’m sorry, but that sound all kinds of wrong,” I say as I pull a funny face.

  “I’ll have you know,” she says with a hand on one hip and the other waving a wooden spoon at me, “that it’s actually really goddamn tasty. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  “But come on, Caleigh, lasagne is meant to be beef.”

  “I’m telling you, Brent, it’s not as bad as it sounds. I didn’t like the sound of it at first either, but then Rhi cooked it for me and totally changed my mind.”

  “Who’s Rhi?”

  “My best friend, Rhiannon. I’ve told you about her, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, you probably did.”

  “Well, she lives here in Brookhaven. Her daughter Luna goes to the same school as Hardin. You’d like her, she’s good people, so is her husband Lewis. Although he’s a workaholic solicitor, he’s a good guy.”

  I like to see her so open and willing to talk to me again. There was a time I thought she’d never speak to me for as long as we both lived. And me buying what could have been her house can’t have helped.

  ***

  We’re sitting in the living room, having eaten the delicious meal cooked by Caleigh’s fair hands. Everyone is stuffed, including me and I have a big appetite. It was the best home-cooked meal I’ve had in ages. Probably because it was cooked by the woman I love.

  The film is over, and the kids are playing quietly while the adults sit around drinking wine. I won’t deny it feels good. More than good, actually. It feels amazing. But is it only temporary? I can’t become complacent about trying to win her back. My plan still needs to go full steam ahead.

  “… he was so blind drunk that he thought the wardrobe was the en suite bathroom and peed in his shoes which we on the bottom shelf.”

  I tune in to the tail end of what was said and realise they’re telling stories about me.

  “Hey, jerk, you’re meant to be my best friend!”