by Ruby Laska
It had always been his dream. When Amber was dating Mac, he was driving a beat-up old Buick that was held together with hard work and baling wire, but he used to talk about the truck he’d have one day. Big, red. Expensive.
Just like the one they stood admiring.
“I wouldn’t have guessed you to be so sentimental,” Amber said.
“Then I suppose you would have guessed wrong,” Mac said gruffly. He stepped ahead to open the door for her. The truck’s cab was unlocked. Of course—nobody locked anything in Heartbreak. Another reminder she’d been away a long time.
The interior of the truck was just as clean and well-cared for as the exterior. It even smelled good. Amber smiled when she noticed the expensive sound system. “You still love music as much as ever?”
“Mmm,” Mac said, noncommittally. He reached under the seat and pulled out an enormous case of CDs, scanning the rows of titles. Looking over his shoulder, Amber felt a rush of memories as she read the familiar titles. Alabama, The Judds, the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band—all albums they’d once listened to together.
So he was sentimental.
About everything?
She banished the thought as soon as it appeared. No reason to think he had anything more on his mind than a conversation with an old friend...just because her knees were feeling a little unsteady, and her pulse was racing.
Mac made a selection—nothing old, Amber noticed, to take them further into the past. The latest Martina McBride tune filled the cab, and he turned in his seat to face her.
“So what do you do, anyway? Are you her manager?”
“Hardly,” Amber murmured, her eyes downcast. She felt her confidence erode, her defenses slip a little. “Just a glorified secretary, actually. I’ve been with Sheryn five years now. I guess—” She bit her lip and looked out her window at the empty street, the lights coming on one by one as the dark descended. “I guess in some ways I haven’t gone so far in the world.”
“On the contrary—it looks to me like you got a world away.”
Amber blushed under his intense scrutiny. “I’ve changed my look, I suppose, since I last saw you.”
“I’ll say.” His voice was barely more than a murmur, and a shiver traveled through Amber’s nerves. How she’d loved his voice. Late nights he’d sing along with the radio, the deep bass voice practically resonating under her skin. Sometimes he would sing to her while he held her close, his lips brushing her cheek softly. She used to love to close her eyes and let the sound fill her senses, until everything else slipped away, her cares and worries replaced by the words of a love song.
Those had been the happiest moments of her life.
The thought came unbidden, and Amber bit her lip fiercely to keep from reacting to it.
“Did you get married?” Mac looked away as he asked, his voice now casual.
“No...you?”
Mac shook his head. “The business has really kept me pretty tied up.”
“Your father’s business?” Amber managed to get the words out with only the slightest edge to her voice, though it cost her. Thankfully, Mac didn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah. Well, actually, mine now. He’s been dead almost ten years, and my mother’s in Florida, so it’s just me. And the guys, of course. We have a whole new crew, though a few of the old ones are still around.”
“Dead ten years,” Amber said softly. With a great deal of effort, she forced herself to look Mac in the eye. “I’m...sorry.”
It wasn’t a total lie. She was sorry, if only because she knew it must have been a blow for Mac. His father’s presence had been the only thing that had kept Mac going before she met him.
And, she had to assume, after she left.
“Yeah, well.”
There was a silence, awkward for Amber, though Mac seemed ill at ease as well, a deep crease appearing between his eyebrows. A worry line, something she did not remember. She found herself wondering what he was thinking.
They had once been able to understand what was on each other’s mind without speaking. A word or glance or touch spoke volumes; they knew the details of each other’s lives with an intimacy rare among young lovers. Neither had had an easy existence; life had already left scars by the time they found each other. Perhaps that explained the intensity with which they had approached each other.
The past. It was all in the past, not worth dwelling on now. This conversation was nothing more than a footnote to their relationship, a chance encounter to be forgotten tomorrow. Still, Amber found herself wishing she’d taken some time to fix up before she left the hotel, to refresh her makeup and put on something other than her strictly-business blouse. She hadn’t slept well the night before, and she knew she had the dark circles under her eyes to prove it.
Mac, on the other hand, looked great. His hair was tousled, a little long in the back, and one or two glints of silver peppered the sun-lightened brown. He was wearing a work shirt that had obviously seen a lot of hard miles, the fabric softened by dozens of washings, the indigo color faded. The hair on his arms was bleached a pale gold in contrast to the sun-burnished skin. Around his eyes there were a few more crinkles than before. From smiling, she wondered, or from worry?
Not that it mattered.
Even if he hadn’t volunteered the information, she would have guessed that he was still at his father’s shop—his shop, she corrected herself. His arms were every bit as well-muscled as they’d been over a decade ago, shaped by hours of working on the boats. He’d been brought up in the shop, learning at the knee of his father and the men who worked for him. When Amber met him he could take on nearly any kind of task, everything from finessing a motor to coax the best possible performance out of it, to scrubbing down the sides of the boats at the end of the season before they went into storage. She remembered the dozens of times he picked her up after her waitressing job, still wearing the smells of hard work, the motor oil and heady scent of a man’s honest labor.
She’d always loved that smell, and it was there—however faintly—in the cab of the truck. She inhaled deeply without thinking, resisting the urge to close her eyes and let the sensation transport her back through the years.
She held his gaze, though. She would not be the first to look away. She’d acquired enough pride for that, at least.
“Amber.”
She waited, her breathing suspended, listening to the silence. Before he spoke again, Mac reached out and tentatively touched her hand. A single touch, a caress so brief she didn’t have time to pull away, that nevertheless sent a tremor down her arm to all the nerves in her body. Oh, God, how she responded to him. Nervously her fingers went to the thin circle of gold suspended on a delicate gold chain beneath her blouse, a habit of years.
“What the hell happened?”
There was an edge to his voice, and the moment was gone. Amber sighed and turned away, shifting her body so she was facing forward, and looked through the windshield. Ahead she saw they had put a stoplight in at the corner of Maple and Washington streets.
“You know what happened. It came down to a matter of faith, and in the end I guess you just didn’t have enough of it. But frankly, Mac, it’s an old story. Hardly worth dredging up now.”
“I just...everything happened so fast. I never thought you’d actually leave. You never even said good-bye.”
“You didn’t get my letter?”
“I got the damn letter.” The fury in Mac’s voice was raw, an old wound opened anew. “‘Don’t call, don’t write.’ As if I could have—you never even let me know where you ended up.”
“I asked you to go with me,” Amber reminded him in a voice choked with suppressed anger. She knew she should end this conversation, but she couldn’t help herself. He’d been the one to let her down, to turn away when she needed him—didn’t he remember that?
Mac said nothing, the corners of his mouth tugging down, sparks flashing in his eyes.
Amber shook her head and took a deep breath. “As I said, this
is all an old story. And it doesn’t seem to be serving any purpose to bring it all up again.”
“I don’t know,” Mac muttered, his tone suddenly flat. “You talk like you have everything all resolved and filed away. I’m not sure how you manage it, Amber—pretending none of it ever happened. I guess I’ve always felt I deserved an explanation.”
“You deserve—”
Mac held up a hand, silencing her. “Forget I said that. Let’s not make this about who owes who, all right? We were both hurt. We both made bad decisions. Let’s not blame each other—can’t we get past that?”
“I’m—I don’t intend to get past anything. There’s nothing to get past, nothing to talk about. I don’t have time for anything but what I came here to do.”
Mac’s expression slowly settled, cooled. “Whatever you say. If you change your mind...I imagine you could still figure out the way to the shop.”
His sarcasm stung. She’d only done what she always did when emotions threatened to overwhelm her, protecting herself with a few carefully chosen words. She hadn’t meant to lash out...but maybe she’d been too harsh. Misgiving clouded her thoughts. He was so close, so familiar.
He’d invited her to go see him. In broad daylight, at his job. What could possibly go wrong in that setting? Where would be the harm in just talking?
But she knew the answer to that question. Knew better than to chance even the most innocuous interaction with Mac. There wasn’t room for idle chat, there would be no pleasant reunion for them. She had pledged him everything, and he’d thrown it away the first time their love was truly tested.
On the other hand, she was the one who had run.
“I have so much to do for the few days we’ll be in town,” she amended, trying to keep her voice even. “I—perhaps I could find a few minutes somewhere.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie—Sheryn was bound to keep her plenty busy if Amber allowed her to—but it wasn’t a matter of life-or-death obligations, either. On the rare occasions that Sheryn managed some down time, she was generous with letting Amber take time off as well. All she had to do was ask.
“You never did say,” Mac said, ignoring her remark. “What exactly is your business in Heartbreak? Seeing as we’re nearly three hundred miles from Nashville, you obviously took some trouble to get here. But I don’t recall any concerts being scheduled over at the high school gymnasium. Or even over in Kingsport, for that matter.”
“Why would we need a reason?” Amber shrugged, though she knew it was pointless to evade Mac’s inquiries. He had always been able to read her like a book. “Sheryn had to cancel some dates. She’s having a little medical trouble—nothing serious.”
Amber pressed her lips together. Sheryn would kill her if she ever found out Amber was discussing her health. The doctor had said Sheryn could return to touring in two weeks if she promised to spend the time at home, resting her voice. He’d been very clear on that point, and driving Sheryn home from the clinic, Amber had pleaded with her to heed his advice.
Sheryn wasn’t a woman who liked to be told what to do, however. The only thing she hated more was being stuck in one place. The official line was that she was suffering from a touch of the flu, and Amber was not at liberty to say anything to the contrary.
Certainly not to a man who was, for all intents and purposes, now a stranger to her.
“And...of all the possibilities, she picked Heartbreak to recuperate?”
Mac’s voice was tinged with sarcasm. Amber just nodded, not meeting his eyes.
“You’re an extremely poor liar, Amber DeWitt,” Mac said softly. “Come on. Out with it.”
She glanced up then, once—but once was enough. She saw her own emotions mirrored back in his eyes. Uncertainty and old anger, yes, but there was something else, a buried attraction so powerful that it was sparked by a chance encounter, a single touch.
And once sparked, it was pointless to try to hide. But she would resist it, and she would succeed. She would not allow Mac to re-enter her life, not for anything more than this one conversation. But there was no way on earth she could evade his questions, either.
“Sheryn wants to build a theme park,” she said, sighing with resignation. “Here, in Heartbreak. I know, I know. It’s a crazy idea.”
“What—like Dollywood?”
Amber closed her eyes and grimaced. Those had been the first words out of her mouth, too, and she’d immediately regretted them. Sheryn, as much genuine affection as she had for her fellow country stars, was fiercely competitive and had retorted at once that her park would put Dolly Parton’s park to shame. Bigger, better, more—those were the kinds of words Sheryn was comfortable using. And to hell with details. Bothersome little matters like finding land, negotiating deals—in Sheryn’s opinion, that’s what bean counters and lawyers were for.
“Sheryn has something a little different in mind,” Amber said. “She just wanted to come see the town, get ideas. It’s all very preliminary. She wanted to take advantage of the time off to brainstorm before she brings anyone else in on the deal. I’m just taking her around, showing her the sights, since Gray—her husband—he couldn’t get away. I mean, he has to manage things at home. But, I guess she felt like she could recuperate here just as easy as home in Nashville.” Amber realized she was talking too much, and pressed her lips together fiercely.
“And you leapt at the chance to return? Yeah, right. Come on, Amber. If you had wanted to come back, you would have done it a long time ago.”
There was no easy answer for that one. Amber hesitated before replying. The truth was, she had tried to avoid coming back to Heartbreak. Tried like hell. But none of her excuses carried any weight with Sheryn, who was looking forward to the trip with girlish glee, as though it were an extended slumber party. Without telling Sheryn the truth—and that was something she wasn’t prepared to tell anybody—there was just no way to get out of the trip.
Besides, maybe it was time. Time to return, see it—the town, the people, and yes, Mac—and then put it all in the past once and for all.
“Like I said,” she said, her voice steely, “it’s business, pure and simple. When Sheryn does well, I do well. The happier I make her, the better the bottom line.”
Mac shrugged. “Fine. We’ll play it your way. You forget how well I once knew you, and for all the changing you’ve done on the outside, I doubt that you’re all that different on the inside.”
“You’re wrong,” Amber said, but a quake in her voice betrayed her. Mac lifted an eyebrow; it hadn’t escaped him.
“I have to tell you, though, I think you are in for a battle.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s going to be those who think this theme park idea is great. They’re the folks who can’t be bothered to earn an honest living now, but I suppose they’ll be opening up tacky T-shirt stands and liquor stores and all night Quick Marts—”
“That’s not fair.”
“Really? What about the folks who like Heartbreak just fine the way it is? A number of us have put in a lot more years here than you ever did.”
Amber felt fury rise in her gut.
“Good night, Mac.” Her hand was on the handle of the door, but she half expected him to stop her.
Wanted him to stop her.
“Wait,” he said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come at you like that. It was a shock, I guess, seeing you tonight. You might have called, given me a chance to steel myself.”
“I...” Amber shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Sorry’s not your strong suit. Nor mine, if I recall.”
Amber’s skin burned. So he was still angry. Well, maybe he had a right to be. But it didn’t matter; the statute of limitations on her exit from his life had run out long ago.
He’d be surprised to know the truth. How often she’d picked up the phone, aching to call and tell him everything. Every year, as she sent out Christmas cards to dozens of friends and business acqua
intances, she thought of him. Once or twice, she even wrote his name on the creamy stationery before tearing up the envelope.
And every night when she watched the news, she always checked the weather map to see what was happening in Heartbreak, and pictured him—fishing on sunny days, building fires when it snowed.
What if he knew that even now she was clutching the last gift he ever gave her through the thin silk of her blouse?
“Look, let’s keep things civil,” he said. “We’ll play it your way. I won’t expect anything from you. But since you’re here, why don’t you see if you can fit a half hour in to come see the shop.” He suddenly looked less certain of himself, his glance flickering away from her and his mouth turning down a little at the corners. “I’d like to have a chance to show you around.”
“I’ll see if I can get away,” Amber said. Then she slipped out of the truck and closed the door, and walked back towards the hotel, resisting the urge to look back.
CHAPTER TWO
Amber rolled over on her stomach and pulled her pillow over her head, hoping that the knock at the door had only been part of a dream. When the sound continued, she groaned, then slowly sat up and looked at her watch, which she’d tossed on the bedside table.
Eight-thirty. Two hours later than she normally slept.
“All right, all right,” she grumbled. “Hold your horses.”
She didn’t even bother pushing her hair out of her face to open the door. Of course it had to be Sheryn. The woman thought nothing of calling Amber at any hour of the day, with an idea or thought that just couldn’t wait until business hours, or a joke she’d heard from one of the road crew, or an invitation to go out and join her in satisfying one of the food cravings that struck her late at night.
At 48 (of course she only admitted to being 39), Sheryn had an unbelievable amount of energy and vitality, even though the most exercise she ever got was struggling into her famous tight outfits. Of course, she needed that kind of energy to make it through the grueling concert tours she’d gone on over the last decade. In fact, Amber was relieved that circumstances had forced Sheryn to relax a bit; after this fool’s errand in Heartbreak, Sheryn would still have time to enjoy the pool and tennis courts at the enormous home she and her husband and manager, Gray Sawyer, had built in Nashville.
