All I Ever Wanted

by LuAnn McLane

  “That’s Joe for ya.” Arabella laughed. Her mother and Joe were opposites, but the two complemented each other in a way that her mother and father had not. It wasn’t until after their divorce that Arabella had found out her parents’ arguments had stemmed from her father cheating. The infidelity had been difficult for Arabella to forgive, but her mother insisted that they simply weren’t meant for each other and had stayed together for her sake. Arabella didn’t have the heart to tell her mother that she wished she had saved them all the angst and had divorced early on, but instead, she thanked her mother for her sacrifice. Another odd twist was that after the divorce her parents were finally on friendly terms. “We were both at fault,” her mother had explained, and Arabella respected her parents for making peace, but she’d vowed that she would never tolerate cheating nor would she stay in a relationship for the “sake of the children.”

  “So, how are things, sweetie?”

  “Oh, fine,” Arabella replied in an airy tone. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin her mother’s dream vacation with anything negative.

  “That’s so good to hear. You work so hard! I’m proud of you.”

  Arabella blinked away hot moisture stinging her eyes, wishing she could pour out her troubles to her mother. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  No! “Yes, just, you know, like I said, working.” Stretched to the limit. Full of anxiety.

  “Well, I know it’s really early to ask, but do you think you could break away from business and come to Cincinnati for the Christmas holidays?”

  “Early? Mom, it’s August.”

  “Right, so time to plan ahead.”

  Arabella felt a pang of guilt. “I don’t know. . . .”

  “No pressure. I just miss you.”

  “I miss you too, Mom.”

  “Are you seeing anyone special?” her mother asked with such longing that Arabella almost wanted to fib.

  “I’m afraid not,” Arabella replied, knowing how much her mother longed for a grandchild.

  “Maybe California isn’t the place for a nice Midwestern girl like you. Ever think of moving back home? We could use a Hip, Hop, Health in Cincinnati. You can run your business from here, couldn’t you?”

  “Oh, Mom . . .” Arabella said. Her parents tried hard to make up for the early years from hell. “I’ll look at my calendar and see when I can come for a visit.”

  “That’s all I can ask for,” her mother said, but then paused.

  “Mom? Is there something else you wanted to tell me?”

  “Well, it isn’t really my place to tell you. . . .”

  “Mom! You can’t say that and then not explain.” Arabella looked around for the stress ball, certain she was going to need it.

  “Your father is getting married again.”

  “I know. Cynthia seems . . . okay, I guess. I only met her a couple of times.”

  “Well, I thought you might want to know that your father is planning to sell Granny York’s house sometime soon.”

  “Oh.” Arabella’s stomach dropped unpleasantly, like she was going over the crest of a roller coaster.

  “I’m sure he plans to call you, but just in case he doesn’t, I wanted you to know. I thought you might be interested in buying it. Believe me, I know how much that house means to you.”

  Arabella thought of the little brick house with the big front porch and the tiny backyard. “Wow.” She felt an ache settle in her chest. “Why is he selling?” Arabella had vowed to keep Granny’s house in the family.

  “Apparently, Cindy doesn’t like it and wants to move out into the suburbs rather than stay in the little house in town.”

  “She prefers Cynthia.”

  “I know.”

  Arabella chuckled, thankful she’d gotten her warped sense of humor from her mother.

  “I . . . well, I thought you might consider buying it and moving back here? Anyway, I wanted to give you a heads-up. You might not have until Christmas.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’ll talk to Dad about it.”

  “You didn’t hear it from me!”

  “Okay, I understand. Mum’s the word.”

  “I thought grease was the word.”

  “Great, now I’ve got that song in my head.”

  “Me too! Wait, just switched to ‘Greased Lightning.’ ”

  “Go, greased lightning!” Arabella laughed again, remembering how she used to love doing the movie’s finger-pointing, heel-tapping dance with Granny York. “Hey, I hope you and Joe have a great time on the cruise. Take lots of pictures, okay?” Arabella forced a heavy dose of false cheerfulness into her tone.

  “You know I’m famous for cutting off heads and putting my finger over the lens in photos.”

  “True.” Arabella had to laugh.

  “But Joe bought a fancy new camera and he’s been playing with it for weeks. Strange that there’s no film involved.” Her mother, a former florist, wasn’t a fan of technology, but Joe, a retired science teacher, loved getting every new gadget on the market. “Did you know that Joe bought me a round robot vacuum sweeper?”

  “I didn’t know that,” Arabella said, and had to smile.

  “Scares the daylights out of the cat. And I’m perfectly capable of sweeping the rug.”

  “Sounds like Joe is just trying to pamper you.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do with my free time?”

  “Go on a cruise. Relax and have lots of fun.”

  “Joe says that’s the plan.”

  “A good one. Tell Joe to take tons of pictures.”

  “I will. I love you, Bella.”

  “I love you too.” Arabella smiled at her mother’s enthusiasm, but after ending the call she suddenly felt like crying. Oh, maybe she should just chuck it all, buy her granny’s house, and move back to Cincinnati. She could open a small dance studio, spend more time with her mother and good old Joe. Maybe meet someone? Start a family?

  The ache in her chest intensified at the thought of holding her child in her arms. Perhaps it was time to make some big changes in her life. . . .

  Damn, she needed a hug. She needed lunch. She needed a giant sugar cookie, her grandmother’s house, and an unexpected miracle.

  CHAPTER THREE

  JUST DANCE

  Trying to avoid the burning pain of the blister plaguing his left heel, Grady performed a lopsided spin move, which made him crash into Jesse.

  “Dammit, Grady!” Jesse tumbled to the floor, slid on his ass for about four feet, and thudded against the wall. With an angry grunt, he rolled onto his back and grabbed his knee. “What the hell was that bullshit?”

  “Sorry,” Grady said. “I’ve got this damned blister and—”

  “A blister?” Oliver shouted over the music. “Are you fucking kidding me? I remember when you performed at Madison Square Garden with a pulled groin muscle.”

  “A little bit of medical marijuana helped that night.”

  “There wasn’t medical marijuana back then,” Oliver said.

  Grady shrugged. “What can I say? I was ahead of the game.”

  “You got any with you now?” Jesse asked, drawing a dark scowl from Oliver. “You know, for my knee,” he clarified.

  “No way!” Oliver turned the music off. “You jokers can’t even do the moves sober. You sure as hell can’t perform high.”

  “You might be surprised.” Grady chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “What the hell, Oliver. Loosen up a little.”

  “We’re not smoking pot,” Oliver shouted. He looked over at Jimmy. “You gonna help me out here?”

  “I got nothing,” Jimmy replied.

  “Relax, I don’t have any damned pot,” Grady said. “I was only kidding.”

  “Well, stop it and get serious.” Oliver pointed at Jesse.
“Get up, you big-ass wimp.”

  “My ass isn’t big. Is it? Tell the truth.”

  Grady looked over at Jimmy, who stood with his arms crossed, silently watching the antics.

  “It was Grady’s fault!” Jesse protested. “He smacked into me in the middle of a spin. And a pretty sweet one too.”

  “I really do have a blister the size of Alaska.” Grady tugged his shoe and sock off. “See?” He pointed to the evidence and grimaced.

  “ ‘I have a blister!’ ” Oliver mocked in a high-pitched tone. “Cry me a river.” He pretended to play the violin. “ ‘My knee hurts! Whaa-whaa-whaa.’ ”

  “Shut up, Oliver.” Grady started to lose patience. “Or I’ll throw this shoe at your pretty-boy face and make you cry a river.”

  Jimmy pushed his way between Grady and Oliver. “Hey, I think it’s time to take a break.”

  “We just had a break,” Oliver said, staring daggers at Grady.

  “An hour ago,” Jimmy said calmly. “And that was for ten stinking minutes.”

  “Who made you the boss anyway, baby brother?” Jesse asked as he pushed up to his feet. Wincing, he flexed his knee.

  “You okay, Jesse?” Grady asked.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Jesse replied glumly.

  “Oh, come on, walk it off.” Oliver wiped sweat from his brow with the bottom of his T-shirt.

  “Hey, I’ve had a bad knee ever since I fell off the stage that time in Dallas,” Jesse said. “Ease up a little.”

  “How can I ease up?” Oliver rolled his eyes. “Not one of you remembers any of the routines. Somebody had to take over this mess, and it had to be me.”

  “But seriously, bro.” Jimmy shook his head. “Do we really need to do all the old formation-change dance moves? I don’t think anyone expects us to be teenagers again.”

  “Or to hit the high notes,” Grady said, clearing his strained throat. He’d been babying his vocals with hot tea and honey, but he still struggled to reach the falsetto he’d been able to pull off a decade ago. “How in the hell does Justin Timberlake do it? We’re going to have to key everything down.” Grady walked over and picked up a bottle of water. He drained it in a few gulps.

  “Well . . .” Oliver looked up at the ceiling and blew out a long sigh. “We’ve got less than three months to pull this thing off and you candy-asses are like the walking dead after a week of rehearsals. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to get laughed off the damned stage.”

  “It’s going to be in Sea Breeze, so slow your roll,” Grady calmly reminded him. “It’s for lupus research, not to revive Heartbeat.” He didn’t want Oliver to get his hopes up.

  “I’m aware of that.” Oliver nodded slowly. “Reviving Heartbeat would require a defibrillator,” he said, drawing a laugh from Jesse.

  “Hey, that was a good line.” Jesse raised his palm for a high five, but Oliver ignored the gesture and failed to crack a smile. Jesse looked at his hand and then lowered it. “Okaaay . . .”

  “I’m not joking. It’s the sad-ass truth.” Oliver tilted his head from shoulder to shoulder as if trying to relieve tension. “And we can’t move the dates we’ve chosen. Devin is already all over the promotion. We’ve got to step it up or have some serious egg splattered on our faces.”

  Jesse pointed to the new Heartbeat poster propped up against the wall. “Well, at least we all still look pretty damned good.” He crossed his arms and struck the same pose as in the poster. “At least I do. Just sayin’.”

  “Come on, Jesse,” Oliver said. “Looking good won’t cut it. We’ve got to sound amazing and pull off the choreography. I don’t want to break Twitter being laughed at or be a skit on SNL. Can’t you be serious for one moment in your life? Not everything is a joke.”

  “You’re a joke,” Jesse said, and Oliver flipped him off.

  “All right, knock it off.” Grady slipped his shoe back on and faced his brothers. “Look, this was supposed to bring us together, not tear us apart. And we’re doing this for a damned good reason. Keep that in mind.”

  “Grady’s got a point,” Jimmy said. “Let’s get our act together and stop the petty bullshit.”

  “I agree.” Jesse walked over and put his hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “But all joking aside, this should be fun, not a nightmare.”

  “I get that, but it’s also hard work.” Oliver sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to be a prick. But I can’t stand in front of you guys, showing you the dance moves, when I need to be in line with you. It screws everything up.”

  Grady crunched the plastic bottle with his hand and tossed it into the trash with more force than needed. “I thought after watching the videos and singing the songs that the rest of it would all come flooding back like riding a bike, you know? I hoped that we would just be rusty.”

  “Oil me.” Jesse moved stiffly around the room like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz, and, thank God, they all laughed, except Oliver.

  “This will get easier,” Grady said with more conviction than he felt. He looked at his sweaty brothers and felt a stab of guilt. “We need to give it some time.”

  “It’s only been a week,” Jimmy said. “I don’t know if rehearsing will get easier, but we’ll get better,” he added, but didn’t sound too convinced either.

  “At least we can’t get worse,” Jesse said, drawing a dark look from Oliver. “Wait, maybe I should rephrase that. . . .”

  “Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.” Oliver scrubbed a hand down his face. “I have to be honest and agree with you guys on one thing. We can’t re-create what we did thirteen years ago. We need some modifications.”

  “Good.” Grady felt a wave of relief.

  Oliver nodded. “Grady, I think you should reconsider giving Arabella a call.”

  “What? No!” Grady shoved his fingers in his damp hair, trying to chase away his inner doubts. If they had Arabella on board—No, don’t go there. “I just can’t.”

  “Can’t and won’t are two different things,” Oliver argued.

  “You just don’t get it.” Grady felt tension building at the base of his skull. Damn, it had been hard enough seeing Arabella in some of the videos of their tour they’d binge-watched. What would it be like seeing her in person? He couldn’t even imagine, but his brain went there anyway. Did she still have that gorgeous, cinnamon-colored hair? That endless energy? A sweet smile that lit up the room when she walked in? “Hey, let’s call it a day,” Grady said, suddenly feeling completely drained.

  “Grady!” Oliver said in a pleading tone. “Come on, man. It’s still early.”

  “Well, personally, I think it’s just about beer-thirty,” Jesse said, still favoring his knee. “I need to ice this thing soon or it’ll be the size of a melon. I’ll hang out for a while, but no more dancing.”

  “You mean no more flopping around,” Oliver said as he grabbed a water from the minifridge.

  “I’m willing to stay,” Jimmy offered.

  “Okay,” Grady said. “You guys hang out here if you want to, but I’m going to go inside and do some paperwork. Devin wants to talk about having merchandise available before the concert and I need to get back to him.”

  Oliver didn’t look pleased, but he nodded. “Well then, let’s get started early tomorrow.”

  “I have to give a guitar lesson in the morning,” Jesse said.

  “I’ll be staying up late working on Mom’s song,” Jimmy said. “I’m not at my best early in the morning.”

  “You guys suck,” Oliver nearly shouted. “Okay . . . how about one o’clock so you can get your lunch in. Wouldn’t want anybody to be low on blood sugar.”

  Jesse raised his hands. “Dude, I think you’re low on blood sugar. Grab a Snickers bar or something.”

  Grady had to chuckle. “Hey, I’ll let you guys figure it out. Shoot me a text. See ya tomorrow.” He gave the
m a wave over his shoulder. Truth was, he could put off the call to Devin until later, but he felt exhausted both physically and mentally. While Grady had known that this Heartbeat reunion would pose some challenges, he hadn’t realized how much he would be thinking of Arabella. Last night he’d had an erotic dream about her that had felt so real, when he rolled over in the morning, he’d expected her to be lying in bed with him. He longed to pull her warm, willing body next to his, bury his face in her silky hair and inhale her light floral scent that always drove him nuts.

  “How fucked up is that?” Grady mumbled under his breath. “Still hung up on someone who walked out without looking back. Not even a backward glance.”

  He once again wondered what it would have been like if that groupie hadn’t barged into his dressing room that night. Would he and Arabella still be together? Married by now?

  Have kids?

  The thought hit him with an odd pang of . . . longing? Wasn’t the ticking biological clock supposed to be a woman thing? I’m only fucking thirty-four, Grady thought as he reached into the fridge for a bottle of water but snagged a bottle of beer instead.

  With a sigh, he twisted off the cap and sat down on a stool at the kitchen island. He’d updated the room with granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and a six-burner state-of-the-art stove he barely used. The kitchen used to be the hub for the Heart family, and now the house seemed to echo with loneliness.

  “Well . . . hell.” After the loss of his mother, Grady had wondered if it was such a smart decision for his mental health to keep the family home, with its constant reminders of the good times they’d shared as a family, but they just couldn’t sell it. After a lot of discussion, Grady had offered to buy his brothers out of their shares.

  After taking a swig of the tangy beer, Grady toed off his shoes and tried to relax before making the call to Devin. Despite his sore muscles, the blisters, the arguments, and the struggles with the dance moves, Grady still believed that doing the benefit concert was the best way to honor their mother. Raising money for a cruel disease that remained an unknown mystery to two-thirds of the public would be worth whatever they had to endure along the way. Watching his mother struggle with pain and fatigue had been so damned difficult. Doctors had thought that her symptoms were brought on by depression stemming from the death of her husband, and she’d gone misdiagnosed, something common for those who suffer from lupus. One very small saving grace was that their father hadn’t had to see his beloved Susan suffer.