Secondhand Heart

by Kristen Strassel

  I danced around my room for a couple minutes, and texted Bree to let her know that I heard from him before answering. I wanted to play it cool, like I hadn’t had the phone right next to my face since I sent him the last message. Sounds great.

  Doesn’t it? Can’t wait.

  “Oh my God, that’s Cam Hunter!”

  “Cam! Cam!”

  “Can I have your autograph?” Cam got swarmed by fans as soon as we arrived at the baseball game. People of all ages first pointed at him, needing assurance they actually had spotted a country singer and not a stunt double, then once they were sure, they didn’t hesitate to pounce. They whipped out their phones and asked for pictures. Mothers pushed their young kids forward through the crowd. Like the kids had any idea who Cam was.

  Cam took it in stride, smiling, posing for pictures. I had to remind my heart to keep beating as the crowd threatened to chew me up. I don’t think anyone realized I was there with him. Five minutes into our first date and I was going to have a panic attack.

  “Isn’t that the girl whose husband died in Afghanistan?” someone asked their friend, talking about me like I wasn’t right there.

  “Yeah, I think she walked in with Cam.” Her friend eyed me, not caring if I noticed or not. “Maybe they’re throwing out the first pitch or something.”

  “It’s got to be a charity thing.” The first woman shrugged. I wanted to die. People thought Cam would only bring me out for charity? This was such a horrible idea. We should have gone someplace else, like Connecticut. They might know Cam there, but no one would have known me.

  I reached around a grown man who was way too excited to be in this crowd to touch Cam’s shoulder. When he turned to me, the buzz of the swarm hushed. “I’m going to find some place for us to sit.”

  “Wait for me.” His eyes told me he wanted away from the crowd as much as I did. “Guys, I’m going to go enjoy the game now, okay?” he called out. Anyone who hadn’t got an autograph groaned in disappointment, but much to my surprise, Cam was able to make a clean break.

  “Sorry about that.” Cam kept his voice low. He took my hand when he joined me, his arm rubbing against mine. I could hear people gasp and react, almost like we were in a cage at the zoo. Yes, the hot singer is here with the chunky townie. Get over it, people. You’re here for the game, just like us.

  “Don’t be sorry.” I looked up at him as we walked, more so I could make the rest of the world go away. “I just get funny in big crowds like that, that’s all.”

  “Are you going to be all right here?” His eyebrows turned down with concern.

  “Yeah. Just as long as I know I can get away from it, I’m fine.” We headed to the outfield. It sloped upward from the playing field, so fans could see the whole game if they wanted to sit there. But people tended to choose the seated area instead. Cam had brought a woven blanket for us to sit on, instead of heading to the bleachers. I thought it was clever before, but after the fan frenzy, it seemed like pure genius. Anyone who knew how to avoid a crowd was all right by me.

  Cam spread out the blanket and we both settled. He reached back in his cooler and pulled out a thermos and two plastic cups. “I made us a little something at the bar.” He handed me my cup, filled with pink liquid.

  I put it to my lips. It smelled sweet. And strong. “What is it?”

  He sighed. “I think it’s electric lemonade. I’m more of a beer guy, but I couldn’t bring myself to put beer in a thermos. And I wasn’t sure how strict they were about drinks at the game.”

  “Oh, they’re strict. Welcome to the suburbs.” I took a sip. “Whoa! Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “Maybe.” He laughed, then drank his concoction. “Holy crap. Good thing I’m not a bartender. I’d be sued within a day.”

  “What kind of beer do you usually drink?” I asked.

  “I’ve been digging the Mayflower Porter we have on tap.”

  “Nice. Super local. But,” I faked concern. “I’m an ale girl. Is this a deal breaker?”

  His eyes lit up and he stifled a laugh. “You know your beer. That’s a deal sealer.”

  We stood for the national anthem. Rumors had probably been flying through the bleachers that Cam was going to sing it, and instead, an eight-year-old girl did the honors. Believe it or not, the kid had chops. Once we sat again, he continued. “Do you really like baseball, or are you just humoring me?”

  “No, I love it. My dad and I watch the Sox almost every night, except for when they’re playing on the west coast. It’s too late for him to stay up.” We didn’t look at each other while we talked, we watched the game. The pitcher had already struck the side out, and we were in the bottom of the first.

  “I actually like going to these games better than going to the big league games,” he said. The kids in the crowd broke out into a chant as the first batter came to the plate. “And this is exactly why. It’s just pure and about the love of the game.”

  “I’ve never even been to Fenway,” I confessed. “You’d think they’d jack my taxes, so I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have a job. None of my friends are really into it, and my dad never wants to go back into the city after work.”

  “Did your husband like baseball?” Cam asked.

  His question startled me. I just wasn’t prepared to talk about Jordan tonight. I looked down at my drink, already half empty. The dog tags burned against the top of my stomach. I usually wore them on the inside of my shirt. It wasn’t an advertisement, after all. “No. He was more into stuff like hockey and football. He’d been getting into doing those Tough Mudder competitions before he got deployed.”

  “Is it okay that I asked you about him?” Cam’s voice quieted. “I feel like I keep upsetting you.”

  “You do?” He wasn’t. Crap.

  “The fan thing, and now this.”

  “You’re not upsetting me.” I forced a smile. “No, it’s cool. It’s just that no one ever really asks. Everyone always wants to talk about him as the soldier, but not the person. Being in the Air Force was only a piece of who Jordan was. I feel like everyone forgets that.”

  Cam’s attention turned totally toward me. “Tell me about him.”

  I took a deep breath. “Jordan hated being in the house, ever. He always wanted to be outside. He could make anything an adventure. We didn’t even have to leave the neighborhood. He just had this way of looking at things,” my voice broke. “That no one else does.”

  “He sounds like a great guy.” Cam referred to Jordan in present tense, and I liked that.

  “We were just going to do so many things.” The tears escaped down my cheeks. “And now I’m doing nothing.”

  “That’s not true. You’re going to school.”

  I shook my head. “It’s a total cop out. I’m just going through the motions.”

  “Nobody gets everything right the first time they try it.” Cam put his hand on my knee. I sat up straight, the feel of his callused fingers sent little electric shocks through my skin.

  “I never thought I’d be in this position.” I’d put my cup down, and now twisted my fingers together nervously. As long as things weren’t about me, I could hang out a shingle that said I had my shit together. But when it was all about Daisy, instant implosion. “I just keep fighting it, because I don’t want to believe that I have to move on. I keep expecting him to come home, like one of those videos you see on the internet. I have this fantasy that he surprises me one day, like it was all just a misunderstanding.”

  “I wish I knew how to make it better for you.” Cam might actually be a saint for not running away screaming. This had to be worse than the girls who told guys their top picks for baby names on a first date. He had to feel so uncomfortable right now. “But I get not winding up where you expected to be.”

  “How?” I looked up at him, confused. I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “You’re famous.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Success is a funny thing. You can work your ass off, and while you’re b
usy doing that, the game changes and no one tells you. So everything you’ve done up to that point doesn’t work anymore.”

  Bree had said he’d lost his record deal. “Is that why you opened the bar?” I didn’t feel comfortable asking him about the divorce. One ghost was enough for a first date.

  He nodded. “You can’t make money in the music business with just music anymore. Not that it’s all about money, but I do need to live. Now being a musician is about the experience. You have to sell something besides music.”

  “Are you still going to make more albums?” I asked.

  “I hope so,” Cam sighed. “I try to see my current situation as a blessing in disguise. A new beginning. I’ve got some great contacts now, and I get to start again, but I’m not a rookie. This time, I can do what I want. And if no one is into the music, at least I know I’m into what I’m doing, and I have the bar.”

  “I’m sure people will like your new stuff. You have such an incredible voice.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled, then we both cheered as the Pilgrims hit a home run. “I know your situation isn’t the same at all, but Jordan sounds like the type of guy who wouldn’t want you to miss out on anything.”

  “Jordan would kick my ass if he saw how I’d been acting lately.” I poured more of the pink octane from the thermos into my cup. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring this night down. I’m sure this wasn’t what you had in mind when you said you wanted to have fun.”

  Cam looked surprised. “I’m having a great time. Beautiful night, great game, fantastic company, what’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing.” I half expected him to take that as an opportunity to call it a night.

  “It’s okay that you’re devastated, Daisy. In fact, if you weren’t, it would be really weird. You don’t have to pretend.”

  The tears threatened to make another appearance. “How is that you don’t even know me, and you get it? I feel like everyone else just expects me to snap into whatever the hell plan B is supposed to be.”

  “You can’t control what other people think. You’ll drive yourself crazy trying. You just have to do what makes you happy.”

  “I don’t know what that is anymore.” I bit my lip. “Okay, let’s turn this night around.”

  “Daisy, it’s okay. Seriously.” Cam squeezed my hand. “I told you, I’m having a good time. And you do know what makes you happy. You like baseball, and beer, you’ve got some great friends, and an awesome sister.”

  “Who’s getting married. Oh yeah, that’s right, you’re the halftime show.”

  “That I am.” Cam laughed. “And you have a great sense of humor.”

  “I’ve heard that a time or two.” I flipped my hair back to punctuate. “I’m glad I came out tonight. I needed this.”

  “We’ll have to make a habit of this.” Cam smiled. “Well, we can do other stuff, too.”

  “Really?” Shit, I sounded way too surprised. “You haven’t paid back your debt to Ev by taking me out?”

  Cam fell back on the blanket in fake exasperation. His shirt rode up on his stomach a little, and be still my heart if he didn’t have washboard abs. What was wrong with this guy? There had to be something. “Oh my God. You are a trip.”

  I laid down on my side next to him, feeling way more forward than I’d expected to be tonight. Thanks, pink drink. “You must owe her big.”

  His face was just inches from mine. “Not a thing.”

  “She must know where you buried the bodies.” I giggled at my own joke.

  “If you stick around, maybe I’ll tell you where they are, too.”

  “You gave me an idea,” Ev announced as we headed out to stock up for Operation Wedding. “When you were talking about the horrible bridesmaids dresses—“

  “You’re going to make us wear them?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear any more of this. “I was kidding! What did we ever do to you?”

  “Stop being such a drama queen.” Ev waved her hand to shush me. She was going to make us look like poodles in tutus. “I like the retro idea. Upcycling is what we’re calling it now. It will be way more economical for you and Bree, and you can deconstruct a dress and really make it your own.”

  “How am I going to deconstruct a dress? I scotch tape my hems when they split.”

  “I know that. What I’m saying is get a dress at a thrift shop and then have a seamstress make it to something one of a kind. Isn’t that a cool idea?”

  “I guess.” How the hell was I going to find a decent fat girl dress at a fucking thrift shop that didn’t stink like someone else’s sweat and failure? Ev didn’t understand. She’d always been skinny. Everything looked fabulous on her. She’d never had to worry about hiding her Homer Simpson belly, or looking like a sausage stuffed in Christmas ribbon. And don’t get me started about sleeveless. I shuddered just thinking about it.

  “You hate it.” She sighed, and held the door open for me at the coffee shop.

  Now that it was out in the open, I wasn’t going to lie to her. “I just don’t know how I’m going to find anything that’s going to look good on me.”

  Ev looked disgusted. “How can you say that? I just left it wide open. You can get anything you want and do whatever you want to it.” She stopped to order her drink. “If you get something you don’t like, it’s your own fault.”

  Her words startled me like a slap across the face. “I don’t think you’re understanding what I’m saying. Those kind of dresses in general are a disaster.”

  “No. I don’t get it. Every dress in the entire world is a disaster? That’s what you’re saying. I just gave you zero restrictions. So that makes your argument irrelevant.” She punctuated her declaration by putting her straw in her decaf coffee.

  “I guess. But taffeta. Tulle. Not cute, Ev.” I dipped my straw in my whipped cream. I couldn’t imagine nine months without coffee, so thank god for the zero octane kind for Ev’s sake.

  “Get over it.” The comfy chairs were actually open, so we took them immediately. Ev retrieved a notebook from her bag, and opened it up to a page full of writing. “So I just wanted to go over stuff with you before we start shopping.”

  “Should I be writing this down?” I joked.

  “If you want.” Ev was dead serious. “We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in.”

  “Can I have a piece of paper?” I dug in my purse for a pen. Man, I didn’t do any of this for my wedding. I just got a dress and went outside to meet Jordan and the JP.

  Ev flipped through the book until she found a blank page, everything was highlighted and seemed to be color coded. She ripped the piece and handed it to me. “Okay, so most of the big stuff is done, which is amazing since we’re doing this so quickly. My friend who does fashion photography said he would shoot for us. It’s not his thing, but I love his perspective so I think we’ll get some great shots.”

  I nodded. “I know that Cam’s in. Did you get the taco truck?”

  “Yes. They’ll have a full menu, so there will be something for everyone. We’re going to do chips and salsa instead of salads and anything fussy and formal. They also gave me the info for a margarita specialist.” She reached into an envelope and gave me a business card.

  “I take it you want me to book them?”

  “Well, yeah.” Ev looked at me like I was an idiot. Was my overachiever sister turning into a bridezilla?

  “Have you made any decisions about the cake?”

  “We’re not having one,” Ev announced with a triumphant smile when my jaw dropped. “We’re going to do churros instead.”

  “Mom’s going to kill you.” My words came out in that shout whisper thing that people tend to do when they can’t fucking believe what they just heard. No cake? Blasphemy. “You need to have a cake. And what’s with the Mexican theme? I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t have to do anything. That’s the beauty of this. And if Mom wants cake, she can make one of her shakes.” Ev laughed at her own joke. “Only the food is Me
xican. I want everything to be really informal and relaxed, and I think having food that’s fun and not stuffy will help that. Plus, it’s probably going to be hotter than hell, and what’s better on a hot day than a margarita?”

  “You’re right. I think it’s cool. I’m just really surprised with your choices.”

  Ev beamed. “Good. This might be small affair, but I want it to be special.”

  Her words weren’t meant to sting, but they did. Jordan and I just wanted to get married. We didn’t care about the details. Plus, we didn’t have any money. It had basically been a ceremony with our parents, Ev, and Bree. Jordan’s brothers were older and also in the Air Force, so they couldn’t be there. Instead of a honeymoon, we just moved into our house on base in Tucson.

  I stirred my straw into my thawing drink, trying to let the feeling pass. This wasn’t a competition, and I didn’t do anything wrong. Neither did Ev. Everything in my being knew I wasn’t ready to participate in her wedding, but I had to push through and make it happen with a smile on my face.

  I took a deep breath. “How many people are you inviting?”

  “Fifty-ish? Between the two of us, that’s everyone who matters.” If Ev knew I was having a mini freakout, she didn’t let on. “Plus the yard is pretty small. They’re going to have to park at the school and we’re looking into getting a golf cart to get people back and forth on.”

  “Awesome.” I giggled, picturing our elderly aunties riding on a golf cart. There was a wide dirt path that ran behind the houses on my street that led to an elementary school. We used to use the path the walk to school, then when we got older, to disappear from the world for a while. “Are you renting tables? Is that what they’d do in Mexico?”

  “Stop.” Ev giggled. “Yeah, we’re getting a few long ones. Did you look at my Pinterest board?”

  “Yes. Which of the five thousand photos will we be referencing, boss?”

  “It’s for the feel of things, silly. I love the string lights, and the sheer curtains. I think we can do something with that.”

  “What do you mean, we?” I panicked a little. “You’re going to hire someone for that, right?”