Cord wondered if he could get Mitch to perform one of Bill Hollister’s favorites, Willie Nelson’s “Always on My Mind.” He remembered his grandfather singing it in his husky voice, remembered his grandmother smiling. He was about to lean over and ask when Carly suddenly got up and walked quickly to the makeshift stage. Cord was shocked and so, obviously, was everyone else at their table.
Carly whispered something to Aaron, who introduced her. “Everyone, this is Carly, and she’s new to town. She’s gonna sing ‘One of These Days’ by the great Emmylou Harris.”
Carly tapped her foot and started singing. Her voice was...astounding, clear and yet so expressive. So emotional. Aaron led the audience in vigorous applause.
When she returned to the table, everyone stared, first at her, then at each other. Cord noticed that several young people at a nearby booth were exchanging nudges and whispers, pointing at Carly, some even checking their cell phones. Rude, he thought, wondering whether she’d noticed. But the evening was over, and their group prepared to leave. Both he and Shallie congratulated Carly on her performance as she got into Tina and Mitch’s car. Carly thanked them but remained impassive.
Back at the house, Cord suggested another drink—tea, wine, beer—and some conversation. They sat on the porch with the dogs, she with her spritzer, he with a beer, and talked about their astonishment at Carly’s talent. “Did she get that from her mother?” Had Reba been able to sing? They tried to remember and agreed it wasn’t something she did often, but she’d had the ability. It only happened occasionally, like the time she’d sung “Piece of My Heart” to Cord, with his arms around her, on another one of those campfire nights. She’d stopped abruptly when she became aware of the attention she was attracting. From Shallie among others...
“‘Piece of My Heart,’” Shallie said now, speaking quietly. Yes, she’d been there that night. He recalled, however faintly, the look on her face back then. A look he hadn’t quite been able to interpret. Disgust? Anger? Confusion? The only reason he remembered it at all was the difference between her reaction and everyone else’s. The others who’d been there had either laughed or cheered them on.
He wondered how Shallie felt about that memory—especially since he’d begun to question how he felt.
After a few minutes’ silence, she asked, “How would you feel if it turns out you’re Carly’s father?”
“Fine—but there are other possibilities.”
“Yeah, two of them. It’s ultimately going to be about the DNA.”
He sighed. “Do you have any sense of her willingness to go through a test like that?”
“We haven’t discussed it yet. I didn’t find the right opportunity today, and you haven’t given me the questions yet. But I promise I’ll talk to her. If you’re sure you can’t do it?”
“I’m sorry. I’d rather you had that conversation with her. This time, anyway. Like I told you, I’m really not comfortable with it, and I’m not convinced she would be, either.”
“I want whatever’s best for Carly. And,” she added, “for you.”
He nodded his thanks, so moved by her simple statement he could barely speak. Her next remark changed the mood.
“But don’t forget you, Eli and J.P. have to do the test, too.”
“There isn’t, shall we say, universal acceptance of that plan. They don’t seem ready to find out, one way or the other.”
“I’ll bring up the subject with her. But you have to talk to the guys.”
“Agreed, but no rush.”
“If you say so,” she murmured.
“I’ll print out the list of questions for you. Pretty basic stuff—mostly confirming family background.”
“Okay.”
“One more thing. I didn’t tell you about the money. A couple of thousand dollars, in cash, in her backpack. We have no idea where that came from. Tina confided in me that Carly said it was money from Reba—but I’m not sure I believe that.” He shook his head. “And I’m not sure whether Eli should be investigating this.”
“What? Two thousand dollars? Where would Carly—” She stared at him. “You’re thinking it’s theft?”
“Hope not!” Then he said, “If you do learn anything about it from Carly, I need you to share it with me, just so she’s not blamed for some crime she didn’t commit.”
“I’d have to let her know. You understand that, right?”
“Yes. But we’ll leave it for now,” Cord said. “Ready to go inside?”
“Sure.” She stood up and the dogs stood with her. “Everybody in.” They happily trotted after her, and Cord locked the front door.
As she stood by her stairs, he walked over. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I appreciate what you’re doing for Carly. For both of us.”
She leaned toward him and gave him a light kiss. He kissed her back, equally restrained, then said, “What the hell? Let me kiss you properly.”
“I’d like that!”
“I’ve been waiting for this...” Waiting and hoping...
Shallie didn’t say she’d been waiting, too, but she didn’t hold back when he kissed her. She said with that kiss what she didn’t say with her words.
This is only the beginning, he told himself. The beginning of a new way of being together.
* * *
CARLY FELT VAGUELY hungover when she got up—although she certainly hadn’t had anything, other than water, to drink. And her experience with hangovers was minimal, anyway. No, her feelings this morning had to do with regret. And fear.
Showing off like that, impulsively getting up to sing, had been a mistake, especially since she’d done that Emmylou Harris song on My 3 Dads. She supposed the truth was that she hadn’t been able to resist. Even worse, those kids sitting in a booth near the back—she’d seen them watching her and she was positive one of them had said “Charlotte” as she walked by.
She’d been so careful, but this was a small town. What if the news got around? What would Cord and the guys—and Tina and Shallie—think? Not to mention that she’d lied to Tina about the money... Would they understand why she was doing this? And earning money at it, via ads and the contributions to PayPal, since her YouTube channel was continuing to grow in popularity. She been cashing out some of the money deposited in her bank account, stopping at banks and ATMs along the way.
The other day, sitting under that spreading tree, she’d spent some time thinking about why she was doing this. She’d decided from the start that it was a way to commemorate her journey. But now it occurred to her that she was commemorating her mother, as well. And she was connecting with others, communicating with them, even if it was just through the internet. She’d also started to see her YouTube channel as a chance to perform. Which brought her back to last evening.
On the drive home, Tina had said she was “a performer at heart.” It seemed that way to Carly, too.
She knew it was very old-fashioned and even risky to insist on turning a chunk of her payments into cash and carrying it around. That was, she figured, partly due to her mom’s tendencies when it had come to money; she’d preferred to have it in her wallet rather than in the bank—not that she’d had much in either place. Carly gathered this went back to her early days and her uncertain income working in low-end motels and bars... And she and her husband, Duncan, hadn’t really shared their money with each other; they’d covered whatever expenses they’d individually agreed to cover and no more.
Still lying in bed, Carly felt herself grow tense. A tension that came from thinking about the past and worrying about the present. She stretched, but that didn’t relax her or wake her sufficiently to get up. Reaching for her cell phone, she saw it was already nine thirty.
Should she get out of here? Leave Painted Pony Creek? Then what about finding her father? And her friendships with Tina and Shallie, which had come to mean a great deal to her in such a short ti
me? Her relationships with Cord and the guys were something she’d miss, too.
No, she had to see this through. But if she stayed—and she would stay—she knew she’d better keep a low profile from now on.
She forced herself to sit up, begin another day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MONDAY MORNING. TIME to get up. Or maybe not... Shallie wasn’t quite ready to join the world downstairs. Or the one outside.
She decided to call Emma in Seattle, catch up on the latest news.
Their most recent conversation, the day after she’d arrived, had been brief. But now they’d have an opportunity for a lengthier talk.
“Hi, Shallie, how are you?”
“Not bad. Good, actually. How about you?”
“Same. Got a busy day coming up. One of my regular clients—Jordan? Remember him? The ten-year-old boy with autism.”
“Of course. Is he doing okay?”
“I’d say so. He’s really bonded with darling little Carrot Cake.”
“She’s a lovely orange girl, and really, truly a darling.”
“How are the horse lessons going? Details, please.”
Shallie explained what she and Cord had been working on—introductions to the various horses, and the time spent patiently relating to them, especially the rescues. Riding. Cleaning stalls.
“And the girl you told me about? Your friend Reba’s daughter?”
“Carly. I think I’ve made some headway there. We talk quite often, and she’s shared some of her history with me, sometimes asks for advice. She...needs me.”
“Yeah. She needs a friend. And a mother.”
“Not to mention a father.” Shallie had recently informed Emma of the three-fathers situation.
“I don’t even want to ask,” Emma said, “but any progress there?”
“Well, Cord’s asked me to talk to her about...certain things, including a DNA test.”
“If it turns out Cord’s her dad, how would you feel about that?”
“Okay.” And she meant it. The subject of Cord had first come up when she’d investigated his business. She’d told Emma only a little about her memories of Cord and the feelings she’d had for him, or about Reba—but Emma had easily guessed there was more. In a previous call, Shallie had mentioned learning from Carly that Reba had died. She’d described how shaken she was, not only by Reba’s death but by the fact that she’d had a daughter.
They left the subject of Cord and Carly and spoke about mutual friends, Country Classics Night and their favorite C&W songs, their delayed plans to take a trip to San Francisco.
Shallie took a deep breath, audible to her and probably Emma, and said, “I’m thinking of hiring a private investigator to research my mother’s history and, if possible, find out where she is now.”
“Do it! You can afford it.”
“Who knows what I might learn? Could be bad news. But I have to do it. And you’re right, at this point in my life, I can afford it.” Her share of profits from the house she and Rob had owned in Seattle had left her with enough money to do that. And change her life if she wanted. She’d been living in a small apartment, in the same building as Emma, since the divorce and, for the first time, had a substantial bank account.
She deeply valued Emma’s friendship, valued having someone to rely on, to exchange experiences with, to laugh with. Especially since the end of her marriage... She suspected Emma knew she had a crush on Cord. Emma had always been able to read her emotions, even when Shallie herself tried to deny or disguise them.
“Back to your mother... If you don’t pursue this, it’ll bother you for the rest of your life.”
“You’re right. Only question is, how do I go about it? Check the internet?”
“Didn’t you say that one of those three guys—the three stooges, or whatever—is a cop or a sheriff? Ask him.”
“Oh, my God! Of course. Why didn’t that occur to me?”
“Hmm. Maybe you’re not thinking straight, for one reason or another. Maybe a reason named Cord?”
“Okay, okay. I think I’ve told you too much,” Shallie said with a quick laugh. “But seriously, thanks for being there for me.”
“Goes both ways.”
“You can count on it. Well, I guess I should go down and get some coffee. And find out what we’re doing for the day.”
“All right, I should get going, too. But I have to tell you something first. I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this and I hope you won’t be upset, but I heard that Rob’s seeing someone—not the one he had the affair with, though. And, Shallie, he might be moving in with her.”
Shallie knew Emma believed, or used to, that Rob was hoping to reconcile, get back with her; she’d never believed it herself. She realized that as little as a week ago, hearing about Rob’s new relationship would have upset her, maybe devastated her. But her life felt different now.
“If this is what he wants, I’m fine with it,” she said.
“Good. Keep me posted on the PI thing. And, Carly,” Emma added. “Talk soon, and much love.”
“Same to you.”
Shallie dressed quickly in the usual old jeans, a cotton plaid shirt, running shoes. That reminded her—she needed to talk to Cord or, more likely, Tina about laundry.
She walked slowly downstairs, considering how to approach him about asking Eli to recommend a private detective. He was in the kitchen by himself.
“Hi,” he greeted her, holding up a mug.
“Yes, please.”
They exchanged the standard pleasantries as they sipped their coffee (better than yesterday’s)—the weather (warm and sunny), the dogs (happy lounging on the porch) and plans for the day (session starting at ten thirty, Shallie continuing to work with Chief).
Cord offered her waffles with syrup; normally, she would’ve declined. Not her kind of food at all. But she simply nodded and said, “Thanks.”
While he toasted the frozen waffles, then poured maple syrup into a small pitcher, she thought over the request she planned to make. Ten minutes later, food finished, coffee drunk, she said, “Can I ask you a question? I, uh, need some information.”
“Sure, fire away.”
Not an image she cared for, but she launched into an explanation, trying not to make it too complicated. She talked about Christine Fletcher’s disappearance, her own need to learn exactly who this woman was—other than “Della’s crazy sister”—and what had happened to her. Was she still alive? Shallie admitted that her search for Christine was the other “main reason” for coming to Painted Pony Creek. That, in fact, it was her first reason and how delighted she was that his training course had fit in perfectly. “So I decided I could make it a double-purpose trip.” She didn’t include her third, still-private, reason—that she’d wanted to see if there was any chance of a connection, any hope of a future with Cord.
“So, my question is, do you think Eli would be willing to recommend an investigator?”
Cord agreed to talk to him, after pointing out that this kind of research, especially in such a complicated situation, could be costly.
“Oh, I should’ve said! I’m willing to pay.”
He gave her an inquiring glance, but she didn’t give him any further information. “I’ll get in touch with Eli right now and, depending on his schedule, we’ll set up a time to get together.”
“Thanks!” She could tell that she sounded a little breathless. Out of gratitude for Cord’s generosity, his immediate willingness to help. Out of relief and anxiety now that the answers she needed might actually be within reach. She felt he understood her sense of urgency.
He got up and retrieved his cell phone, removing it from its charger, then returned to the kitchen, put it on speaker and tried Eli. He got hold of him right away, then described what Shallie was looking for. To her relief, Eli said he’d be happy to look i
nto it and already had someone in mind... “Why don’t we meet at Bailey’s tonight? J.P., too, if he’s interested. He generally has something useful to add.”
She saw Cord grin at that. “Yeah, and maybe the oh-so-smart Trooper will have some ideas, too.”
“No doubt.”
Shallie called out, “Hi, Eli, and thanks!”
Then she and Cord discussed the day’s plans. “I’ll have you focus on Chief,” he said, providing a little more information than he had earlier. “I want you to prepare him for slow, careful rides, possibly as a therapy horse sometime in the future. I’m interested in moving Hollister Horses in that direction. And at this stage, I’ll bet you know more about it than I do because of working with your friend. You’ve obviously learned a lot from her.”
“Thank you. I’ll tell Emma you said that.”
“Please do. Shall we go and visit Chief?”
As they walked to the stable, Cord said, “Is it all right if I ask why you’re looking for your mother now? I mean, she’s been missing for thirty-some years.”
“Like I told you, it’s one of the reasons I’m back in Painted Pony Creek. You’re the other...” She hoped he’d assume she was talking exclusively about his business—and wasn’t sure exactly why she felt she needed to keep business and personal matters separate, at least for the moment.
“Your mother, Christine Fletcher, disappeared from the motel in the middle of the night when you were two. I kind of remember that. I mean I remember hearing about it from you when we were...twelve or so.”
“Yes. And as for why I’m doing this now, there are a few reasons. My divorce, which happened because my husband was unfaithful...” She paused, but thankfully he didn’t comment. “Also the fact that, aside from having absolutely no information about my father—he’s ‘unknown’ according to my birth certificate—I know next to nothing about her, either. I’ve made a real effort to find her on the internet, but no luck. So...this is the biggest gap in my life.”
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