by Bella Falls
Cate perked up. “Ooh, I know. That song about a country girl shaking it. It’s one of my favorites, and I begged you to stay.”
The memory clicked into place. “Right. I like that song, too, but if I’d waited any longer to go, I would have remembered that song for a completely different and embarrassing reason.”
Crystal almost spit out a sip of coffee with a laugh. “And you bet we would have never let you live it down. Let’s see, Odie and I took off after that handsome man over there,” she waved her thumb at Hunter, “crooned Bless This Broken Road. That’s our special song.” Color rose in her cheeks, and she ducked her head and smiled at the secret memory with her husband.
Levi listened with great intensity, nodding but not prompting. Mac pulled a small notebook out of his back pocket and asked for a pen. Not wanting to break the flow, I rushed out of my chair to find one, not caring that I tipped it over with a wooden crash onto the floor.
“Here you go.” I handed the writing utensil to him and righted the head chair. “Do y’all know what you sang and when?”
“We usually keep a set list of the songs we know we’re going to play,” Hunter admitted. “And Mac here keeps pretty close tabs on our timing.”
“Yeah, he’s a little obsessed.” EJ twirled his forefinger in a circle by the side of his head and mouthed, “He’s crazy,” to us. A piece of hash brown flew across the table and hit the guitarist in the forehead. Without blinking, he scarfed down the tasty projectile.
Mac wrote something down on his pad. “I’m not obsessed. I’m the only one who keeps us on track. I know how long each song should be and what to either add in or cut out to keep us on schedule. Without me, you’d never stop playing.” He glanced up at EJ. “And think how sad that would be for all those girls you try to land at the end of every gig.”
The two of them took digs at each other, and the volume of voices increased while Hunter played referee.
Exasperated, I stood up and motioned my hands in the universal sign for a time out. “Whoa, boys. Let’s try and stay focused. Mac, does this mean you could build a timeline based on a few songs?”
The keyboardist grimaced and shrugged his shoulders. “Yes and no. I can say with confidence that the official reception ended at around eleven thirty because the contract was for us to perform until eleven o’clock.”
Hunter pointed at him and agreed. “But since we know Harrison, we decided to keep going rather than hooking up a playlist through Bluetooth.”
“Oh, right. You were taking requests of songs for those of us still partying,” I recalled and pointed at my friends. “So, we know what song you performed when Crystal left. And then we know the country girl shaking song when I departed to go take care of things up at the house.”
“There’s a pretty big gap with who knows how many songs in between those,” Dani admitted, her enthusiasm draining from her face.
“No, wait.” I slapped my hands on the table. “I remember y’all played that song about cheating because I thought that was a weird request to make for a wedding reception.”
“Right, it was.” Hunter tipped his chair back on two legs as he thought about it. “We had a very quick debate whether or not we should play it. But since it’s got such a catchy hook, we figured we’d honor the request since somebody took the time to write it down.”
My eyes flashed to his. “Did everyone make requests by writing it down?”
Mac stopped taking notes. “We left scrap paper on the side of the stage and a pencil. They’d write down the name of the song and put it in an empty guitar case, and then I’d pull out the requests. We sometimes do that to challenge ourselves.”
“But ultimately, we trust you to accept the requests or not. You’re a good musical director, dude.” Levi clapped Mac on the back.
Any other time, I’d appreciate all the bro love flying about, but it wasn’t helping me sort out the problem of who hurt Harrison. “Do you still have the requests?” I pressed.
Hart, the band’s drummer, pushed his empty plate away from him. “Honestly, tearing down and packing up last night was a mess. By the time they let us go, we just wanted to get out of there.”
“It’s possible we tossed those slips of paper in somewhere, but it’ll take us getting home and unpacking before I can look.” Mac shot an apologetic glance my way.
Dani raised her hand, and I did my best not to shout at her in impatience to just speak. Once I called on her, she offered her own idea. “We were all there. If we put our heads together, maybe we could figure out which songs were played. That would give us something to go by and try to match the time.”
“If only we’d been taking pictures of each other with our spell phones,” I lamented.
Cate brushed off my regret. “We were having fun without them, like in the good ol’ days. Plus, all our phones were in our purses at the table. If anybody did capture pics or videos, my bet is the county sheriffs will figure out how to collect them.”
Mac turned to a clean page in his notebook. “Okay, let’s assume we started free playing around half-past eleven. What songs can we remember?”
It took all of us making suggestions or clarifying each submission through our personal recollections of the moments. Music proved to be a powerful tool to help jog memories, and a list slowly formed.
“I can work on guesstimating the time on the ride home based on what we have, even though there are a few gaps,” Mac offered after we ran out of songs.
“There’s one song missing that’s the most important.” I faced Hunter. “What’s that one that goes like this.” I hummed what I could remember. “Oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s a song that What’s-Her-Name who won an award this year sang.”
“Hum it again,” Mac asked.
Closing my eyes and concentrating, I repeated the same tune of the slow song. “It’s about a space cowboy.”
“Oh, that’s Kacey’s song we played,” EJ interjected. “And there’s technically a comma between space and cowboy. It’s not about a cowboy riding around in space.”
“But I don’t understand,” Dani commented. “Why’s it important, Rue?”
The tune played again in my head, and I pictured light from the reception area filtering through the bushes and casting shadows behind the wedding party’s table. I hadn’t been paying attention to the lyrics, but I wouldn’t be able to hear the music without thinking of that critical moment.
“Because I heard y’all playing it when I found Azalea and Harrison.”
My confession caused a hesitant hush to fall over all of us. During our lively conversation trying to build the entire night’s list of songs, we’d lost track of why we were doing it in the first place.
Mac broke the silence first by clearing his throat. “That will be the last one on our list since we barely started playing anything else before we noticed something was wrong.” He jotted down the title.
“Have you heard anything from Gloria about how Harrison’s doing? Or what happened with Azalea?” Crystal asked me.
I shook my head. “Gloria’s not answering her texts. I’m holding out hope that no news is good news when it comes to Harrison. I plan to go to the hospital after I clean up.”
“We’ll help with that before we head out.” Mac closed his notebook and shoved it in his back pocket.
The clattering of plates and dishes replaced our chatter, and all of us brought stuff into the kitchen. With the tiny sink, we couldn’t all do the cleaning, so I shooed the boys out with reassurances that the rest of us could handle things.
“Besides, I can’t risk having y’all ruin our cast iron skillets by stripping their seasoning. You guys get on the road and get back to me with whatever timeline you come up with,” I insisted.
After hugs and reassurances that I would keep them up to date on Harrison and Azalea, I waved goodbye at the door and ignored my desire to flop down on the nearest couch in exhaustion. A flurry of activity and conversation pulled me back into the k
itchen.
“Them boys are definitely something to look at. And that one called Mac, well, he’s just a heap of handsome. Someone in his family brought him up right,” Granny Jo crowed, her corporeal form practically vibrating with appreciation.
“Are you really going to the hospital today?” Crystal asked, scooping leftovers into a plastic container.
I nodded. “I want to find out how Harrison is plus to check on Azalea. Luke figures they might have taken her in for questioning last night.” I checked my spell phone again. “I can’t believe Gloria hasn’t texted me back. I hope that doesn’t mean something’s gone wrong.
Dani stopped scrubbing down the pan in her hand. “Why don’t you go ahead and go. We’ve got things covered in here.”
Not wanting to trample on their goodwill but also chomping at the bit to find out more, I rocked back and forth on my feet. “Y’all sure?”
Granny floated over to me and spoke in a calming tone. “Friends in distress are more important than a few dirty dishes. You did good in there this morning. It’ll be interesting to see how it all fits.” She snapped her towel at my behind. “Now, git on outta here.”
Grabbing the last piece of bacon left, I didn’t wait for them to change their minds. Once in the car, I debated whether to go back to my cottage to fix my appearance or to head straight to the hospital.
Mind made up before I could think twice, my tires squealed on the pavement as I tore out of the driveway and headed in the direction of the hospital.
Chapter Six
Once I parked the car, I realized my mistake of coming to the hospital empty-handed. Gripping the steering wheel, I bit my lip in indecision whether or not to go down the street to the nearby drugstore to at least buy a card for Harrison. At the same time, I wanted to see Azalea and press for more information as soon as possible.
While caught in between choices, I detected Tara rushing out of the hospital sliding doors, a bouquet of flowers clutched in her hands. Her face was blotchy as if she’d been crying, and I got out of my car to intercept her.
“Tara, hey. Where are you going?” I called out.
She stopped mid-stride and stared at me with wide eyes, resembling a deer caught in headlights. “What? Oh, Ruby Mae.” Her eyes flitted away from me and her feet were aimed in the direction of her car. “I…I was just leaving.” She paused, as if waiting for me to let her go. When I kept my focus on her, she plucked at one of the flowers in the bouquet. “Ms. Robin needs me back at the shop.”
I shut the door of my car and approached her. “When did you hear about Harrison? I’m guessing you just came from seeing him. Is he okay?”
Tara’s bottom lip trembled. “I didn’t stick around very long, but I could tell things weren’t great. I heard them say something about internal bleeding and loss of blood.” A stray wind blew a strand of her hair in front of her face, and she brushed it back with a shaky hand.
“You didn’t stay to find out?” I pointed at the bouquet. “Why didn’t you leave those for him?”
She kept her eyes on the flowers, refusing to look at me. “Things were pretty hectic up there and I didn’t want to get in the way. I just hope…” she trailed off. A single tear ran down her face, and she dashed it away and sniffed. “Here, if you’re going to visit, will you take them up with you?”
I tried to refuse the bouquet she thrust in my face and encouraged her to go with me instead. “I’m sure his family would like to know how much you care.”
She shook the flowers at me, and the cellophane crinkled with the force. “No, I’d just be in the way, and I don’t think it would change anything.” When I accepted the bouquet, she took two small steps and stopped. “Tell them they’re from Ms. Robin and that she hopes Harrison has a speedy recovery.”
I wanted to ask her why she didn’t attend the reception, but she ducked in and out of the other cars parked around us and disappeared too fast. Gripping the flowers, I considered for a long second claiming them as my gift but came to my senses quick enough to stop in the souvenir shop on the bottom floor to purchase a small teddy bear holding a “Get Well” sign.
The elevator doors opened on the third floor, and I stepped out into the hallway, reading the signs to point me in the right direction. Loud voices arguing captured my attention, and I walked around the corner to find Azalea, dressed in yoga pants and a baggy shirt with her hair still in a messy form of her wedding updo, yelling at her parents.
“Don’t even pretend that you care, Mother. I don’t even know why you both came here in the first place.” Azalea placed her hands on her hips and stared them down with a heated glare.
Her father held his hands up in front of him. “Let’s try to calm down—”
“Do not tell me to calm down as if there’s something wrong with me!” Azalea shrieked. She whipped a finger at her mother. “You stood there the night of the rehearsal dinner and begged me not to marry Harrison. Tried to bribe me with a promise of unlimited money to invest in my business.”
Her mother covered her heart with her hand. “It was a terrible thing to do, and we’re so sorry.”
Azalea’s eyes narrowed. “I think apologies are entirely too late when my husband,” she spat out the word, “is lying in that room. He almost died. On our wedding night. And you, Dad.” She shook her head and looked down at the floor, allowing her long hair to cover her face. Her hands clenched in and out of fists. When she looked back up, tears streamed down her cheeks. “I am disappointed in you the most. Even after Harrison offered to pay you back for all the money you put into the wedding. After he made the efforts to mend the bridges between all of us. You still stood up in front of all our family and friends and gave that horrible toast.”
Regret passed like a shadow over her father’s face, and his shoulders fell a little. He opened his mouth to say something but sighed instead. After his quiet pause, he straightened to full height. “I’m not even sure where he would have gotten that money unless you provided it for him.”
“Get out!” Azalea screamed, rushing to the space behind her parents and planting her hands on their backs. “Get out, and don’t come back,” she insisted, pushing them forward and in the direction of the elevators where I stood gawking.
Her mother squirmed. “Young lady, unhand us. You may have your reasons to be upset, but there is no excuse for making a spectacle of yourself.”
I dodged out of the way and waited nearby, just in case my friend needed me. Gloria appeared out of nowhere and stood at my elbow. When Azalea spotted the two of us there, she regained her composure but maintained control of the situation.
Crossing her arms over her chest, she spoke in a cold but firm tone. “Mom, Dad. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. But you are no longer welcome in my life. No, let me rephrase that. In my husband’s and my life. Please leave.”
The elevator doors opened, but nobody else dared to enter inside. Azalea’s father glared back at his daughter. “We’ll go for now. But we’ll talk about all this later when you’ve calmed down.”
The newlywed bride’s face turned a shade between red and purple, but she refused to rise to the bait. Keeping her lips pursed shut, she stood her ground until the doors closed. The second the motor whirred taking her parents away, our friend collapsed on the cold hospital tile in a heap of sobs.
A nurse in scrubs rushed out from behind the desk and came over with a damp washcloth and a tissue. “There now, honey. Sometimes you gotta stand up for yourself.” She wiped away Azalea’s tears and gave her the tissue, placing the cloth on the back of her neck. “Don’t you worry about nothing else except seeing your man get better.”
“Thank you so much,” Gloria uttered, taking over the job of holding the washcloth.
The nurse with the name tag “Angel” pinned above her heart told us it was her privilege to help out. “There’s a single bathroom right down that hallway, third door on your left. Why don’t you take her in there and let her cry her eyes out or whatever she needs,” s
he suggested.
I locked the door behind us and stood at the ready for Azalea. Gloria sat her friend down on the toilet seat and brushed a hand down her hair. “It’ll be okay,” she murmured.
“How?” Azalea cried, balling up the tissue the nurse had given her. “My brand-new husband is in a hospital because someone stabbed him.”
Gloria blanched and swallowed hard. “Harrison’s a strong man. You know he’ll pull through.”
Azalea pushed her friend’s hand away. “No, none of us know that for sure. He’s been intubated and doesn’t even know I’m here for him. I just wish I knew this would all turn out okay.” She burst into a new set of tears, and the two of us gathered around as close as we could despite our unhygienic settings. We waited for her whimpers to turn into sniffs before speaking.
I pulled the trash can over and perched on top of its metal cover. “You’re right, we don’t know anything for sure. None of us are psychics, and I am definitely not going to go searching for a crystal ball to try and predict your future.”
Gloria half snorted but stopped herself, unsure of whether or not Azalea would get the joke or even want to laugh. We both let out the breaths we held when the new bride giggled.
“You sure you don’t have another one stashed away somewhere on that big family property of yours?” Azalea asked. The partial smile she managed dropped again. “It’s driving me crazy not having Harrison here to help me through all this.”
The cellophane wrapped around the flowers crinkled in the following silence, and I tossed them into the sink. “They’re from Ms. Robin, I guess. I ran into Tara in the parking lot.”
“I saw her hovering about,” Gloria confirmed. “But the doctor was giving Harrison’s update, so I guess she didn’t want to intrude.”
My fingers stroked the soft felt of the teddy bear meant for him. “How is he? What’s the latest news?”
Azalea placed her head in her hands. “The knife punctured his spleen bad enough that he needed surgery. My husband was in surgery and I wasn’t here for any of it. It’s hard to follow the doctor when she’s saying so many words I don’t understand, but I think he had a lot of internal bleeding. He coded on the table.” Her entire body shook as the enormity of it all overwhelmed her.
