“You’re my baby, my hummingbird,” she said and put her arms around Savannah again.
“I love you, Mama,” she said, and realized she had never said those words out loud to anyone before.
Hazel sniffed. “I love you, too, Savannah.”
Savannah felt a little piece of her soul heal with the simple words spoken in a kitchen that was so familiar to her. All those nights spent in family counseling, all the days spent angry with her lot in life, all the times she’d been too afraid to ask the hard questions, rolled through her mind.
She’d wasted nearly twenty years of her life being afraid of who she was. Collin was right. She was Savannah Walters. What happened before she was given that last name didn’t have to ruin her future.
She was through being afraid.
“I’m not going back to Nashville.”
Mama held her at arm’s length for a moment, her gaze inspecting Savannah as if she expected her to have sprouted horns or wings or maybe a tail. “Are you feeling all right?”
Savannah wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Despite the waterworks, yeah, I’m good. Better than I’ve been, maybe ever.”
“But you love singing.”
How many people were going to tell her what she loved? She liked singing. She was good at it. Saying that she loved it was an exaggeration.
“I saw singing as a way to do something that was me. Something that would make you all proud of me. Levi was the football star. I wanted to shine for you, too, and I knew I could sing, so that’s what I did.”
“But you didn’t have to do anything to shine. You shine all the time, just by being yourself.” Mama poured two mugs of coffee and motioned Savannah to the kitchen table.
“It doesn’t matter, it’s just what I thought. Still think, maybe. But being on the reality show and then joining the tour—” she shook her head “—made me realize that I like singing for me, not for crowds. The crowds and the noise and everything that goes along with a singing career make me feel like I can’t breathe.” She sipped her coffee, waiting for Mama to tell her she was wrong.
“Okay.”
Savannah blinked. Mama Hazel sipped her coffee and then added another spoonful of sugar from the little bowl on the table. “What? You’re an adult, Savannah. If you don’t want to be a singer, you don’t have to be a singer. What do you want to do?”
The million-dollar question, and one for which her answer was still a little murky. She liked being with Collin, but dating an orchard owner wasn’t exactly a career aspiration. She liked hanging out with Amanda, and she’d liked working with the kids in the Nashville music program.
“Do you remember that camp we went to after my freshman year?”
“The family camp.”
A halfhearted smile crossed Savannah’s face. “Therapy camp, Mama.”
Mama Hazel waved her hand. “We were there as a family—”
“Because I ran away from home and wouldn’t talk about it. We had daily sessions with a therapist, and then there were the horse therapy things and the bonding exercises.” And before she’d come back to Slippery Rock, it had been one of the happiest experiences of her life, despite the fact that she’d pretended she’d hated every minute of it. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For taking me there. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that.” Savannah thought about the week the four of them had spent at the camp, and an idea began to form in her head. “There was a music program I volunteered with in Nashville. It’s one of the only things I liked about being there. It was a mix of kids, some from rich neighborhoods, some from poorer. I think I’d like to do something like that.”
“Run a music program for kids?” Mama Hazel seemed to mull the idea over for a long moment. “You could talk to the school, I guess.”
“No, I’m thinking more like a camp that is musically based. For foster kids. A place for them to go, to be themselves, to have music. To keep music in my life, but in a way that I’m comfortable with.”
Mama reached across the table and put her hand over Savannah’s. Her darker skin was soft and smooth, her nails clipped short and painted a light pink. Savannah squeezed her mother’s hand in hers.
“I think that is a beautiful idea,” Mama Hazel said and patted her hand.
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Savannah drew in a slow breath. A music program. Her own music program, not for aspiring singers or songwriters or guitarists, but for kids who were just looking for something or some place where they could belong.
It was a scary thought. An exciting and scary and energizing thought. Now she just had to figure out how to make it work.
* * *
FOR THE FIRST time since Levi’s football injury three years before, Collin skipped out on their dart game at the Slope.
He pulled his old truck into the drive at Walters Ranch just before seven and walked to the door. Levi answered.
“I knew that look at the bar meant something,” his friend said, giving him a light shoulder shove. “She’s not ready.”
“Is this where you give me the big brother talk?” Collin entered the house. Mama Hazel and Bennett sat in their matching rocking chairs. Bennett watched the Kansas City Royals on TV while Mama Hazel worked on some kind of puzzle in a magazine.
“I figure you know the drill on that one, having two sisters of your own.” The two of them sat on the sofa facing the big brick fireplace.
“When will your house be finished?” Collin asked.
“Another week or so.”
“Then we just have to get Savannah out, and we’ll be empty nesters,” Bennett added from his chair, his deep baritone filling the room. “We didn’t realize we’d raised two kids who couldn’t live on their own.”
“Hey, I survived two years in Los Angeles and Nashville, thank you very much,” Savannah said from the stairs. She wore a short navy dress with thin straps at the shoulders and a skirt that swirled around her thighs. Collin swallowed hard.
“And I did four long years at college and another two and a half in the pros. It’s like you don’t like us or something,” Levi said.
Collin liked the banter in this cozy living room. He missed bantering with Mara and hadn’t yet figured out how to banter with Amanda.
“And now you’re both back. It’s like you two are homing pigeons,” Bennett said, laughter in his deep voice.
“You hush, we love having both of our children at home,” Mama Hazel said diplomatically.
“You’d just like us better in our own homes, we get it,” Levi put in.
The play-by-play was fun to watch and almost familiar to Collin, although his memories were of Bennett, Hazel and Levi teasing like this and Savannah mostly off to the side. Interesting that she was joining in now.
That joining in meant something. He hoped it meant he could start thinking about Savannah in the long-term instead of this open-ended but short-term thinking he’d been doing.
A few minutes later they left the house. Collin handed Savannah into the truck and backed down the lane.
“Nice look. I wondered if you had any pants that reached past your knees,” Savannah said.
“Made a special trip to Shanna’s Closet. Did you know she carries menswear now, too?”
“Really? I thought those probably came from the sporting goods store at the marina,” she said, gesturing to his khakis.
“Ouch.” Collin put his hand to his heart as if he’d been punched, making Savannah laugh. “And here I was going to tell you how nice you look.”
“This old thing?” She grinned. “Where are we going?”
“The Overlook,” he said, mentioning a restaurant with wide windows and the best views of the lake.
“Nice choice.”
“Well, Bud’s closes at seven thirty, and Merle gets annoyed if too many people eat the fruit off his drink setups.”
They passed the rest of the drive in companionable silence, with Savannah appearing to focus intently on the fields they passed.
Once seated with glasses of wine on the table, she said, “I’m not going back to Nashville.”
It was the farthest thing from Collin’s mind and he shook his head. “You have to, it’s your job.” He paused. “Not that I want you to go back. Unless you want to go back.”
“I don’t, and singing isn’t going to be my job much longer, even if I did.” She fiddled with her napkin. “The label is cutting new artists, trying to level their revenue lines. Four artists were on the chopping block, and three of them are already gone. I’m the last.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, but he wasn’t. The thought of Savannah staying in town made him happy. He was a jerk.
“I’m not. I told you the other day I didn’t like the attention of the media, but it’s more than that. I didn’t like being on stage at all. All those people watching me, I couldn’t relax.”
“You might have gotten used to it.”
“That’s what my manager said, or at least, it’s what he implied. He also said there will be a feeding frenzy for me when the label makes the announcement.” Savannah kept fiddling with her napkin. “I told him I didn’t want to continue on.”
“And he said?”
“He said what any good manager would say to a fledging artist who he feels has cold feet—that I don’t really know what I want.”
Finally she looked at Collin and what he saw in her gaze wasn’t fear or uncertainty. There was a bit of what he thought might be discomfort, but mostly her gaze seemed sincere.
“But you know what you want.”
“I do. Kind of. I don’t want to be in the spotlight, and I’m not a role model, but I do know some people who would make good role models. I want to figure out how I can put those people in touch with foster kids. I might not have gotten bounced around like so many fosters do, but there is still a stigma attached to being in the system. I’m thinking about creating a music camp just for those kids. I want to do something that matters.”
Collin didn’t really know what to say. “You want to make a difference.”
“Apparently, I do.” She sounded as shocked as he felt. But having said it, she put the crisp, white napkin in her lap and reached for a piece of bread from the basket the waitress had brought with their wine. “I thought I just wanted to show my parents that I could do something, and maybe that’s part of what this is. I just don’t want any child to feel the way I felt for so long. Like they don’t belong or that they might be sent away again. Kids deserve better than that.”
“Savannah,” he said, and reached across the table to take her hand.
“Do you know my parents went into family counseling with me four different times? Every single time, I would just sit on the couch and try not to talk because I was afraid of the things I might have said.” She bit into the bread.
“You’re not afraid now?”
She was quiet for a long moment and some other emotion, something he couldn’t put his finger on, crossed her face. “Oh, I’m still afraid, just not of Mama or Dad or Levi.” She glanced at him.
“What brought all this on?”
“I had a rooftop talk with Levi a few days ago. I made myself talk to my mother this morning, after my manager called. And when you and I talked last night, it’s like something opened up inside me. I think it’s been trying to open for a while, but I just kept hiding away from it, letting life happen to me. I still have questions, but I’m making peace with some of the answers.”
Collin raised his glass and, when she did the same, he clinked the glasses together. “To facing the music,” he said.
* * *
THAT NIGHT SAVANNAH lay in Collin’s arms in his loft apartment over the barn. She watched the night sky through his bedroom window. A few high clouds skirted in front of the moon and thousands of stars twinkled in the sky. And the man in bed with her wrapped his arms around her waist while she slept.
It was the most protected she had ever allowed herself to feel.
Savannah lifted Collin’s hand to her mouth, kissing his fingers. His answer was a light snore at her shoulder.
Between last night in the truck and tonight at the restaurant, she had placed nearly all of her fears at his feet. He hadn’t run away. Hadn’t told her not to call. Hadn’t used the clichéd “it’s not you, it’s me” excuse and left the restaurant.
He’d toasted her decision.
There was only one secret left and she hoped she would never have to voice it. If she didn’t have to talk about it, she could pretend she hadn’t fallen that far down the self-destruction rabbit hole.
The truth was, she didn’t want to face what she had done in that trailer, not really. She wanted it to just be in the past. To lie there silently until she forgot it. Forgetting had to happen sooner or later. After all, she’d already managed to forget seven years of her life.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SAVANNAH GOT HER WISH.
Within a week from the phone call with her manager, the record label dropped her, citing financial difficulties. Guy had been right about one other thing: the other label heads wanted her. She had offers from not one but six different labels, from small startups to New-York-backed labels. Not one of them offered the typical deal that favored the label over the artist.
Guy thought she was nuts to turn every single offer down, but Savannah had never been happier.
She’d had important talks with not only her mother and Levi, but Bennett, too. When she mentioned the music camp, Bennett immediately jumped into action.
Her father had skipped work at the dairy to take her to a small plot of land at the north end of the ranch.
“What do you think?” he’d asked, getting out of the big truck and spreading his arms toward the open area. A few of the familiar oaks and maples were scattered across the area, along with a set of railroad tracks that had been unused for as long as Savannah could remember.
“It’s pretty,” she said. “Isn’t this where Levi moved the old herd, after you did the switch to an organic operation?”
“For a while, but the cows needed more room. We’re renting space over at the Harris farm, so this is just empty land. I thought you might be able to use it.”
Savannah shot him a glance. “To start my own dairy operation? Have you forgotten the absurdity of my attempts at milking so soon?”
Bennett put his arm around her shoulders. “For your music program. It could be a school—there are plenty of open storefronts downtown, but if you built something new, it could be more than that.”
“Like the therapy camp we attended.” Savannah had hoped to turn her program into a camp-like program, eventually. She’d never expected her father to hand her several acres of prime ranch land. “I’ll buy it from you.”
“You’ll take it from me,” he corrected, squeezing her shoulders. “And you’ll do wonderful things here.”
Savannah wiped a hand over her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry about that afternoon with her father or the gift of the land. She’d cried at the time, and that was enough. It was enough that things with her family were coming together. Her plans for the music program would come, too.
Then there was Collin.
She had spent nearly every night since their date at the Overlook in Collin’s arms.
Life was suddenly offering Savannah everything she had always thought she didn’t want. It was Memorial Day, and they’d spent the day with Collin’s friends. Friends she was beginning to think of as her own. She sat in a lawn chair in Adam’s backyard, watching the last rays of sunlight sink into the lake. Despite the pile of fencin
g in one corner, the yard was lovely, filled with flowers and shrubs, the grass a thick cushion under her feet. Savannah curled her toes against the cool grass and smiled. Their yard was perfect, right down to the little spit of sand at the water’s edge that Jenny said Adam had brought in a couple of summers before.
Adam’s wife, Jenny, handed Savannah a wine cooler and then took the seat next to her. Jenny’s long braid was pulled through her baseball cap, and she wore cut-off jeans and a T-shirt with a flag painted on it. The men were standing around Adam’s fire pit, roasting marshmallows and talking about the intricacies of s’mores-making.
“They’re still fifteen mentally, I think,” Jenny said, her gaze full of laughter. “So you’re Levi’s sister and Collin’s girlfriend?” At Savannah’s nod, she continued. “I’m trying to figure out why I don’t remember you from school at all.”
“I kept to myself, probably a little too much.”
“But you sang the national anthem a few times.” She shook her head. “I should have remembered, but until Adam pointed you out on that singing show, I swear I missed everything about you.”
Savannah liked the strawberry-blonde. She was warm and funny, and seemed to immediately accept Savannah as part of the group.
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t remember you, either. Small towns are weird, aren’t they? We’re all supposed to know one another and yet I swear I still see people at the farmers’ market that I’ve never seen before. And some of the people I do know, I still can’t figure out. Like, I’ve lived here since I was seven, and I still don’t understand why Merle and Juanita pretend they aren’t an item,” Savannah said.
Jenny’s eyes widened. “They are? Everyone says it’s just work flirtation.”
“Believe me, when you work with the two of them, it’s evident. They arrive at the same time, leave at the same time. Half the time he offers to drive her home. They should just come out about it already.”
“What other unseemly affairs are running around this town?” She leaned on the arm of her chair.
“You mean other than me and Collin?” That made Jenny laugh. “I think the rest of the town is an open book. But I wouldn’t be surprised if James has something going on.” She pointed a finger at the deputy sheriff, wearing old jeans and a black T-shirt, his aviator sunglasses resting on top of his head. “He is way too relaxed to not be having some kind of sex, but no one in town is connected to him.”
Famous in a Small Town Page 20
