“Ava, have you ever been arrested?”
“No.”
“Are you a drunk, or do drugs?”
“No, of course not.”
“So you’re not a criminal, and you don’t do drugs. You’ve never had a child out of wedlock, as far as I know. You are a little bit of a germophobe, but that’s no big deal. You’re the opposite of a feminist, thank God. So what’s so wrong with you?”
“Everything.”
Travis laughed, then looked right into her eyes.
“You are one of the funniest people on earth. Your smile lights up any room. Whether you like it or not, you’re a good-looking woman, just like your mother. You are loyal, a good friend, and the kind of person that everyone wants in their life. You are almost the perfect wife, a partner that any man would die for in their life. This guy would be lucky to have you. So what makes him so great?”
Ava took a deep breath.
“He’s an orthopedic surgeon, a deacon in our church, mentors foster children in his spare time; he’s gorgeous, and he adores me. Also, he’s a damn fine golfer.”
Travis gently leaned back in the cart again.
“Does he ever date older men?”
They busted out laughing, Ava cackling now.
“Why me? Why would a man like that want to spend the rest of his life with me? I’ll be a constant weight in his life.”
“No, darling, you’re the missing piece,” Travis answered, nodding his head. “A man like that needs a woman who he can trust and respect, that won’t abuse the privilege of being his spouse. He needs a woman who respects what he does and won’t expect him to become someone else as the years go on. He needs an independent woman who can take care of herself, and has her own goals that he can help her fulfill.” Travis stared at her again. “If you don’t love him, then let him go. You will be wasting both your lives.” He grabbed her hand now. “But if you do love him, go for it, help make both your dreams come true and have the life that y’all deserve. You’ve had some roadblocks and heartbreaks, and you’ve come through them like a champion. You deserve to be happy. It sounds like you both deserve to be happy.”
Struggling not to break down, she reached over and hugged him, long and hard.
“I love him, Travis. Oh, I adore him. I hope he loves me. I think he does. I can’t believe it, but I think he really does.”
“I trust you and your instincts,” Travis answered. “I’d bet my life on your instincts.”
“Stop it, damn it. Stop being my caddy. You make me miss golfing with you.”
“I can’t help it. You’re the best, and it’s the truth. And I’m so happy for you. You’re going to have a wonderful life, and you deserve it. Why don’t you call him right now and give him the good news? Then we can celebrate. I know the perfect place.”
Chapter 3
The Reason
“Oh, my God,” she gushed, her mouth full of the greasy burger, “how can it still taste this good?”
“Whataburger never lets you down,” Travis answered, dipping an onion ring in the spicy ketchup. “Maybe you can serve it at the rehearsal dinner. Or does your Yankee doctor only eat kale and quiche?”
“Screw you,” she smirked. “There’s nothing wrong with eating healthy. And Richie likes ice cream, so hah! And how do you still eat this stuff and have a flat belly? I’d never fit in a wedding dress if I lived here.”
“I’m bulimic. By the way, where is the bathroom?”
“Shut up!” she laughed, cackling again. “Seriously though, thanks for saying ‘Hi’ to my Richie. He’s a huge fan and ecstatic now. I can hear him right now, telling everybody at the hospital about the phone call and how he talked to Travis Hatfield. I know he’s jealous that you’re going to walk me down the aisle and not him.”
“Whoa. Wait a minute. I don’t walk you down the aisle. What about your stepdad?”
Ava put down her burger, sternly.
“I’ve met him only three times in my life, Travis, including Mom’s wedding, and he didn’t even go to the airport with Mom to pick me up yesterday. He stayed home to watch TV. Judge Judy.”
“Oh, Ava.”
“Hey,” she said, pointing at him, “you told me to marry Richie. You’ve got to walk me down the aisle now.”
“I didn’t tell you to marry a Yankee,” Travis said weakly. He leaned back and thought to himself, almost pleading for a different answer, but none came. Taking a deep breath, then a loud exhale, he answered, “I’d be honored to walk you, but I don’t have to wear a tux, right?”
“You’ll look hot. Like James Bond. Agent Travis Hatfield Bond. And you have to bring a date.”
He tried to smile, then slowly looked off away into the distance. They sat quietly and ate for a minute.
“Travis, I didn’t come back to visit Mom.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She measured her words carefully.
“I came back for you. I came back to help you.”
Puzzled, yet concerned, he methodically responded, “Ava, I’m fine.”
“Maybe. Maybe you are. But you need help.” Ava leaned toward him, her elbows on the table now and a quieter voice. “Don’t you wonder why I quit my job?”
“No. That’s your business, and I figure you’d tell me if it was important. Most people quit a job in their twenties. It’s part of growing up and learning who you are.”
“I got into broadcasting at Duke,” Ava began. “During the summer before my sophomore year, the football broadcast team wanted a sideline reporter, and being the trend right now, I guess they wanted a woman to be on the sidelines. I fit that criteria, so I became the Duke sideline reporter. I loved it, got pretty good at it, and by my senior year, I had my own weekend sports show on the Duke local access network.
“When I graduated, I tried to find a sportscasting gig, but unless you have a gold medal or you’ve rushed for 10,000 yards in the NFL, it’s a tough job to find. I sent resumes everywhere and got almost no callbacks. So I went to work for a sports marketing company with the Carolina Panthers, having fun with friends and scraping by, waiting for my big break.
“Then I got a phone call from a small market station called Freedom Sports Network in Connecticut. It was a local sports channel dedicated to New England sports, from high school to the pros. I flew there the next day to interview.
“The interview didn’t go very well at first. I knew almost nothing about New England sports, and my Texas accent was not appreciated. Right before the producer was going to kick me out of his office, he asked if I had anything interesting in my background sports-wise.”
“You mentioned me,” Travis added.
“Yeah.” She took a sip of her diet coke. “He was early fifties, knew your story well, and hired me instantly. He helped me sign a lease at an apartment complex, a fantastic place with vaulted ceilings, and gave me a company car. My dream started coming true.
“The job went well at first. I was a runner and odd-jobs person, no airtime, but I was promised a shot in a few months. The hours were horrible, but I got to see and do some cool things.
“Anyway, after six months, a week ago, the producer asked to see me in his office. He offered me a promotion, a good one, almost twice my salary. There was one catch: I had to get an interview with you, discussing why you retired and the situation with your wife. Of course, I said no way. Then he said either I did the interview or I’m fired. The bastard even threatened me with the apartment lease, saying I would be stuck with it, a two-year lease.
“So I quit and walked out. I talked to the apartment people, and they let me out of the lease, no problem. They had another person ready to replace me. I don’t have to move out officially for another 60 days, so I’m fine. I got lucky.”
Travis tried to look her in the eyes.
“I’m sorry the job didn’t work out.”
“It’s ok, Travis. I found out everything that I wanted to know about that world, and I know now that it’s not for me, and I found out how much more I love Richie than being a sportscaster. It was a learning experience, and I’m better for it.”
“Good girl.”
“But,” she sighed, “the whole situation in New England made me realize something. You see, I get asked about you all the time. Your story still lives on to this day. Hell, I’m the answer to a trivia question: what was the name of the little girl who caddied for Travis Hatfield at the Houston Open?”
“Ok,” Travis answered, a little aggravated now. “Do you want me to apologize for that also?”
“No, I can deal with it. I always have. Proudly. But it is easy for me. Everyone smiles when they remember me as a little girl. People talk about how lucky I was and what a great experience I had. I don’t get hurt by my relationship with you in any way. No one asks me about your marriage or your wife, and if they do, I can say ‘I don’t know’ and no one bothers me anymore.”
“What are we talking about, Ava?”
She leaned in.
“Your daughters.”
“Leave them out of this,” Travis said, not amused.
“No,” Ava said emphatically. “I realized that whatever troubles that I’ve had from being a part of your life, their troubles have been ten times worse than mine. I bet they get asked what happened to their mom every day and if you did it. It started to haunt me so bad, I went online to check on them a few days ago, and I read about what happened at SMU.”
Travis grimaced, just staring out the window, wanting her to stop.
“Poor Charlotte was stalked at her dorm by reporters, constantly asking her about you and her mother. The poor thing had to drop out.”
“She transferred,” Travis corrected. “And she is fine now. The University of Missouri was a good school, and she did great.”
“Travis, this has to end.”
“How!” Travis blurted out, startling everyone in the burger joint. He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Fine. I ruined their lives. It kills me, but I accept that. What the hell else can I do?”
“It’s easy for you, Travis. You just hide away from life and surround yourself with people who worship you. But your daughters can’t. They aren’t beloved by everyone like you. They have no place to escape. Charlotte and Shelby are considered victims, or, worse, people who know the truth and are hiding something. No one thinks that I know anything, so I’m left alone. But everyone thinks your daughters know some dark, scary truth about you, and are hiding it to protect either you or themselves from you. Travis, you have to protect your daughters like you protect yourself in your own life. They need to be left alone.”
Travis leaned back in his chair, crushed.
“I can’t believe you think that I don’t want to protect my children. I’ve done everything that I can.”
“No, you haven’t, Travis. You never told everyone the truth. People don’t know what really happened.” She leaned in again. “Travis, I don’t know what really happened.”
“You were six years old! You expected me to explain it to you?”
“But I’m 27 now,” she said, gently, grabbing his hand. “You daughters are out of college and have their own lives, and they don’t know what really happened, do they?”
“Ava,” Travis said like a father, “they know all they need to know, and they are fine.”
“They are terrorized by your story daily. Your daughters need your protection.”
Travis shook his head in disgust.
“Has it ever occurred to you that I am protecting my family by not telling the world my story?”
Ava leaned back in her chair now, looking at him curiously, trying to make sense of his reasoning.
Then it hit her.
“You’re protecting your wife. That’s why this is best for your family.”
“Everyone knows all they need to know. So just drop it.”
Shocked by his logic, she was also relieved, realizing he was trying to be generous, like the Travis she had always known.
“This isn’t fair, Travis.”
“Life isn’t fair, little girl. Trust me.”
“This is wrong. You have taken too much of the blame.”
“How do you know?” Travis responded. “And who cares? None of it matters anymore. They still love their mom in their own way, I hope. That is all that matters.”
“But do they love you, Travis? Not the way that they should. They can’t because they don’t know what really happened. Don’t they deserve to have a father that they can love also? Their mother is gone, but their father is still here. You’re still here.”
Travis put up his hands, pleading for this to end.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”
“I want to help you, old man,” she said, trying to make him smile.
“Well, you suck at it,” he said, with a fake smile back.
“That’s why I came to see you. I want to write your story. I want to help you get this horrible monkey off your back, and to help you protect your daughters. To finally repay you for all that you’ve done for me.”
“Write my story? A stupid article or something. What the hell, Ava?”
“A novel,” she corrected. “The whole story, written by someone that you know, that you can trust. I won’t change your story or slander you and your family in anyway. All the sales will go to your daughters, or a foundation for your wife, or whatever. I don’t care. I just want to help you and your daughters from this misery.”
“Are you serious? It could be terrible. It could be one horrible book. What if you do it and it sucks?”
“If it sucks, you can burn it, Travis. Just let me try. I think it is the best option for you. Richie agrees. Truth be told, this was his idea.”
“Your fiancé knows about this? I talked to him on the phone, and you didn’t tell me about y’all’s big plan for me?”
“I just did. Travis, I told him that before I could marry him, I needed to help you somehow, that you needed my help and I had to do something. We brainstormed about it, he came up with the perfect idea of me writing your book, and that is why I flew back to Houston. Richie is a great guy. You said so yourself an hour ago.”
“I’ve never met the asshole in person.”
They both laughed.
“I don’t want to do this, Ava.”
“I know,’ she answered. “But you should. Your daughters deserve it. I will write it the way you would want it written. I know you, and I love you.” She leaned back again. “Trust me and my instincts. Bet your life on my instincts. Remember that one?”
Travis shook his head, still in a little shock by what had just occurred. But Ava was right. His daughters had been hurting for years. They were bearing the brunt for his sins, and he wanted them in his life again. Desperately. Maybe it was time, and he couldn’t think of another way to have this done. Perhaps this was his best chance.
“Ok,” Travis said reluctantly. “But I’ll tell it my way.”
Chapter 4
T-Mac’s
“A froufrou restaurant?” Ava asked, parking her car. “It’s 10:00 am, and it looks closed. ‘T-Mac’s Old Italian Bistro’? Why here? It looks closed.”
“It is closed,” Travis said, getting out of the car. “That is why it’s perfect. No one will bother us.” He grabbed his clubs out of her trunk. “Relax, little girl. Get ready for a big surprise.”
They walked through the front doors, instantly greeted with the smells of fresh paint, wood varnish, and Clorox bleach.
“Where the hell have you been?” a voice yelled from across the room.
“I ran into an old buddy,” Travis yelled back.
“Oh my God, Uncle Mac, is that you?” Ava asked, jogging toward him
now, then jumping into his arms.
Mac was Travis’s best friend when Ava was growing up, and he was always around. Back in the day, Mac owned a small restaurant/corner bar place where Travis sometimes brought Ava for lunch, and Mac let her eat and drink cokes for free. He kept pints of chocolate chip ice cream just for her.
“The one and only,” Mac laughed, lifting her in the air with his huge arms. “What, did you think I was dead? Oh man, I’m sorry. I’m so sweaty. It’s been a busy morning.”
“Shut up, like I care,” she said, gently punching him in the shoulder. “You look great. Wow, so now you own a fancy restaurant? It’s huge, Mac, and what an amazing location. River Oaks. All your customers are rich. What’s on the second floor?”
“A brothel,” Travis answered, smirking. “We need to talk all afternoon, Mac, and maybe some tonight. Can we use one of the booths in the back?”
“No problem,” Mac said. “What are y’all drinking?”
“Jack and Sprite Zero, and waters also. Thank you, Mac.”
Ava gave Mac another hug, then followed Travis to a large, half-moon shaped corner booth, sliding in, then plugging a microphone into her laptop and turning on the computer.
“You drink now?” Ava asked.
“Yeah, it loosens the swing,” Travis said, looking at her equipment. “What’s all that?”
“I’m going to record you,” Ava said, placing the mic in-between them, “so you can just let it all out, in your own words.” She turned to survey the beautiful main floor of the restaurant again, amazed at the artwork and furniture. “How can he pay for all this?”
“Mac is just a restaurant genius,” Travis said. “The restaurant business is tricky, really trendy in this uptown district. Everybody wants to go to the new hotspot in town, so every year or so, Mac gets new furniture and changes the theme. He has a buddy that owns a commercial furniture place, Michael at Lyndsey Furniture, and Mac leases all this stuff from him, so he owns nothing and can change the theme whenever he wants. When Mac wants to change the place, he calls Michael and they take the old and bring new stuff, whatever Mac needs. The complete turnaround, furniture, paint and everything, is about a week. People think it’s a new place, even though it has the same basic name, so they flock to it, for a year, then Mac changes everything again. He makes a killing. It was ‘T-Mac’s Tex-Mex Hacienda’ for the past year, but now it’s going to be the ritzy ‘T-Mac’s Old Italian Bistro.’ His prices are insane, but the idiots keep lining up, trying to be trendy. The guy is a genius.”
Disappearing like the Wind Page 2
