Burned in Broken Hearts Junction

by Meg Muldoon

  My heart leapt at the name on the screen.

  Jacob.

  In all the madness of the past week, I hadn’t even thought to give Jacob a call.

  That had been a first.

  I took a deep breath and answered it just before it went to my voicemail.

  “Hi,” I said in a steady and calm voice.

  “That you Loretta?”

  I lay down the brush and took a seat on the edge of my bed.

  “It’s me,” I said.

  “How are you?”

  I thought about telling him. Telling him about Dale and Courtney and her psychopathic sister. About The Cupid almost going up in flames.

  About how I almost went up in flames with it.

  But in the end, I didn’t tell him any of it.

  “I’m just fine,” I said, looking at myself in the mirror. “Yourself?”

  There was a strange silence.

  “Jacob?”

  “Uh, I’m fine, too,” he said.

  He sighed into the phone. I got the feeling something was on his mind, so I waited for more.

  “Well, uh, the truth is, I’m not fine,” he said quietly, in an unusually small and shaky voice.

  Then I heard what sounded like a snivel.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  The phone cracked under his breath.

  “It’s, uh, it’s over,” he said, the words thick with emotion. “The band broke up.”

  My mouth dropped a little in surprise.

  “But I thought you were on tour,” I said. “I thought this tour was going to be the big—”

  “It’s over, Loretta,” he said. “They’re finished. I’m finished. Kaputz. All zipped up like a big bag of horse poop.”

  There was real pain in his voice. I’d never heard him quite like this.

  “I’m really sorry, Jacob,” I said.

  There was another long silence, like he was trying to keep back the tears. Then he cleared his throat.

  “You know, since I found out, there’s been only one thing on my mind,” he said. “One thing that’s been getting me through all this.”

  “Yeah?” I said, swallowing hard. “What’s that?”

  “I can’t stop thinking about coming back home to you. To our house, by the tracks.”

  I bit my lip, looking at myself hard in the mirror while I listened.

  “Of just lying awake with you in my arms, listening to that train go by. Eating breakfast together. Christ, reading the paper together.”

  I didn’t say anything. My throat was too dry.

  “I know things have been tough between us these past few years,” he said. “But I see now how much I need you, Loretta. What a fool I’ve been. All this time, I’ve just been a scared kid running from the truth.”

  “You have been a fool,” I said.

  “I know.”

  He waited for me to respond, but I had nothing to give him.

  “All I want now is to make it up to you,” he continued in a low voice. “Will you let me come home? Come back to where I belong?”

  My heart thundered hard in my chest.

  I knew all along that this was how it was going to play out.

  We were soulmates, after all. We belonged together.

  And now, finally, after all these years away from me, he understood that.

  We could be together again. Things could be the way they were when we first found each other.

  Life could finally be worth living.

  My mind raced with all the possibilities of it, losing myself in our future. In the lazy mornings in bed, of listening to him sing in the shower, of us one day moving out of this little shack into something bigger. Something with an extra room, maybe.

  But as I looked at my reflection in the mirror, I knew there was someone else… someone else more important I had to answer to.

  Someone who had been here through all of the heartache and pain these past few years.Someone who spent her nights reading romance novels and woke up every morning with a dead loneliness that made it hard to get out of bed and face the day. Someone who had suffered more than her fair share because of this man.

  Someone who deserved more.

  “I’ll be on the next plane out of here,” he said. “Just say the word, Loretta. Just say the word.”

  That woman in the mirror knew the real score of things.

  That woman in the mirror knew the price of these years.

  And I knew, as I looked at her, that there was no way she was going to let me be so stupid.

  Jacob may have been my soulmate.

  But in the end, that didn’t mean a damn thing.

  I’d suffered too much, for too long.

  I took a deep breath.

  “It’s closing time, Jacob.”

  “What?” he said after a moment.

  “It’s over, baby,” I said, my voice rising with a kind of strength that I didn’t know I had. “Me and you—we’re through.”

  There was a stunned silence on the other side of the line.

  “But, Lorett—”

  “You had your chance,” I said. “And you blew it.”

  “But…” he stammered. “But what about all that stuff you’ve said all these years, about us being meant for each other? What about all of tha—”

  “I was mistaken.”

  “But, Loretta,” he said, stuttering as his words grew sloppier and more desperate. “I know you still believe in us. I know you still love—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Not anymore.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  He’d run out of appeals, giving the half-hearted attempts that were typical of him, I realized.

  “It’s Lawrence’s birthday today,” I said. “I know you probably forgot, but you should probably call him. He’s been asking about you for three years now.”

  He started saying something, something about how busy he’d been, but I was tired of hearing it.

  I was done with Jacob Halliday. Once and for all.

  I hung up the phone, and tossed it on the bed.

  I looked back at the woman in the mirror.

  Tears were rolling down her cheeks. Her mascara was running, and she looked about five years older than she really was.

  But there was a faint smile breaking at the edge of her mouth.

  This woman had had her share of lickings.

  But she’d come through it.

  And she was going to be all right.

  Maybe not today.Maybe not tomorrow. But sure as the sun came up in the east, someday, she would be all right.

  I wiped away the tears, went out into the living room, and went over to the wall of photos.

  One of them didn’t belong there anymore.

  And that was okay.

  Chapter 74

  After loading the picnic basket full of fried chicken, iced tea, and birthday cake, I stuffed it in the back of the truck and drove over to the nursing home with Hank.

  Lawrence had gotten himself dressed up nicely in a beige suit and a bolo tie for the occasion. He had trimmed his bright white beard, and was looking vibrant and healthy and happy.

  I helped him out to the truck, placing his wheelchair in the bed, and then drove him over to Heartbreak Park near the hiking trail where I’d gotten that bad migraine the week before.

  Lawrence seemed to be unusually excited and agitated as he sat there in the front seat with the window rolled down. He kept rubbing his hands together, like he’d downed a whole pot of coffee before I’d picked him up.

  “Now what’s got you riled up, Law Dog?” I said, as we approached the park.

  He smiled.

  “I’m just glad to be outside on such a beautiful day,” he said. “And to be here with such a pretty lady at that.”

  “It’s a little scandalous, don’t you think?” I joked. “What will the town say? The age difference between us being so profound.”

  Lawrence chuckled.

  He was downrig
ht giddy.

  “But seriously, what’s got you so jumpy?”

  He took in a deep breath of air.

  “I guess I’m just happy to be alive today,” he said. “Just glad that they caught crazy Nurse Ratched before she got a chance to hurt you, and that you’re here with me to celebrate my birthday.”

  “Aww,” I said, glancing over and patting him on the hand.

  “You know, I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bitters,” he said. “I mean it. You’re as dear to me as my own flesh and blood. Like the granddaughter I always wanted.”

  “You’re going to make me cry, Law Dog,” I said.

  Good old Lawrence.

  I pulled up to the park and got out of the truck. Hank followed close at my heels. I went around to the passenger’s side, and helped Lawrence down. Then I got the picnic basket from the backseat, holding it with one hand while offering up my other arm to the old man for support.

  We slowly walked across the bright green grass of the park to the wooden picnic table at the other end. The one that overlooked The Crooked River, dancing and sparkling today in the bright sunlight and blue skies of early spring.

  When we made it to the table, I helped Lawrence sit down on the bench and then started unpacking the picnic basket.

  “Have you talked to my grandson today?” he asked, looking up at me hopefully.

  I bit my lip.

  I wasn’t going to tell him that I’d finally and officially broken up with Jacob.

  Not on his birthday.

  That news could wait a little while.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said. “Jacob said to tell you happy birthday and that he misses you.”

  The old man smiled a bright, unrelenting grin that seemed out of place.

  “What’s that smile about?” I said, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Well, when I asked you if you’d heard from my grandson today, I didn’t mean that grandson.”

  The Tupperware of fried chicken dropped out of my hands and bounced onto the table.

  “What?” I said. “What do you mean?”

  Lawrence started chuckling.

  “I mean, I want to know if you’ve heard from him today?” he asked again.

  I looked at him hard.

  A wave of panic coursed through me.

  This must have been how it started. The old man was starting to go senile, thinking he had another grandson. A few months from now, he’d probably end up in a room with padded walls and bars on the windows.

  “Lawrence, I don’t know what—”

  “Well, son of a gun,” he said, looking past me. “There’s my grandson now.”

  “Lawrence, you don’t have…” I said, turning around.

  I gasped.

  Chapter 75

  I looked back at Lawrence.

  He was laughing like a madman.

  “Remember that surprise I told you about last week?” he said. “Well, here he is.”

  I turned back, still unable to believe my eyes.

  He was coming toward us, like a mirage in the desert. Dressed in blue flannel and jeans and cowboy boots, he was carrying a bouquet of roses in one arm, and a bottle of something in the other.

  Hank started barking, taken by surprise as much as I had been. He ran up to the man as he approached, jumping on him, clawing at his legs for attention. The man stopped, tucking the roses under his arm while leaning down and rubbing Hank’s belly until the dog was appeased. Then he finally crossed the grass, coming over to the picnic table.

  My jaw was still on the ground.

  “Happy birthday, Gramps,” he said, handing Lawrence the bottle of whiskey.

  But he kept his eyes on me.

  “Well, thank you kindly, Fletch,” Lawrence said.

  “But… but…” I said, stammering.

  I looked back at Lawrence, whose grin was as bright as anything I’d ever seen.

  “I’m sorry, Bitters,” Lawrence said. “I’m being rude. This is my grandson, Fletcher. Come all the way from Tennessee to settle down in Broken Hearts Junction to take care of me. Fletcher, this is Loretta Loveless. A great friend of mine.”

  I looked back at Lawrence.

  I could have… I could have…

  But I didn’t.

  “You old devil,” I finally said after I’d gotten over the initial shock. I punched the old man lightly on his shoulder. “You sneaky old devil.”

  I looked at Fletcher, who was grinning too. The similarity in their smile was undeniable.

  I just shook my head, astounded.

  I probably should have been angry with Lawrence, keeping a secret this big from me. I probably should have, but I wasn’t.

  He’d gotten me. That couldn’t be argued with.

  “You’ve been playing matchmaker, haven’t you old Law Dog?” I said.

  Lawrence shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “That’s your territory, Bitters. But I just had the idea that the two of you might get along with each other, being that you all have so much in common. Plus, remember that night I threw you out of The Cupid? Well, I wanted to finally make it up to you.”

  I shook my head in amazement.

  The old devil.

  “But, Lawrence, I don’t understand,” I said. “You never told me that you had another grandson.”

  Lawrence nodded.

  “Jacob didn’t know either up until three years ago,” Lawrence said. “You see, Jacob’s dad, well… he was a bit of a wild one in his youth.”

  Lawrence sighed.

  “During his younger days he did some things that weren’t… well, that was shameful. He rambled around a bit, got this young woman pregnant in Tennessee. Didn’t take the responsibility, though. He just left her.”

  He glanced over at Fletcher, the smile fading and a sadness pulling at the wrinkles on his face.

  “He picked up and left, leaving her with nothing. Kept it a secret for years. Then that night at The Cupid? The first night The Rusted Spurs played and I kicked you out? Well, I got the shock of my life that night. Fletcher here comes up to me before the show and says, I think we might have something in common, and it ain’t a love for country music.”

  He was still looking at Fletcher with that sad expression.

  “He looked just like his dad,” Lawrence continued. “I couldn’t believe it. Fletcher had tracked him down all the way across the country.”

  Fletcher sighed and looked away. That look of shame on Lawrence’s face deepened.

  “My son was a troubled man,” Lawrence continued. “He didn’t do right by Fletch, even after meeting him that night. You see, Jacob’s mother was a very religious woman. And my son wasn’t about to admit to a mistake like that to her. So he kept it secret from his family. Told me that he’d never speak to me again if I told them about it, and he kept his back turned to Fletch here.”

  Lawrence looked up at his grandson.

  “I’m sorry, Fletch.”

  Fletcher patted the old man on the back.

  “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for, Gramps,” he said. “You always did right by me. I’ve got nothing to complain about.”

  Lawrence smiled.

  “Anyway, I kept in touch. The two of us been writing back and forth a long, long time. When their father died, I finally told Jacob that he had a half-brother. And, uh, I’m afraid the boy didn’t take it all that well. Didn’t want to hear about it. I guess he’s angry with his father. Hell, maybe he’s angry with me for not telling him about it sooner.”

  Lawrence shook his head.

  “The boy’s just lost,” he said in a heartbreaking tone. “He’s got a dark side to him. I guess he inherited it from his father.”

  I took the old man’s wrinkled hand.

  “Well, maybe one day he’ll find his way back,” I said.

  “Maybe,” he said, looking down.

  “Until then, you got me.”

  He patted my hand.

  “I hope I always have you,�
� he said.

  “Then you always will,” I said.

  Fletcher smiled. A million dollar smile that could have lit a house on fire. I looked back at him, my heart soaring with a feeling I hadn’t had in ages.

  “These are for you,” he said, handing me the bunch of yellow roses he had tucked under his arm. “I’m sorry it took me a little while to come back to you like I said. There were some things I had to settle.”

  Our hands brushed as I reached for the flowers, and I felt a current run right through me, as strong as a bolt of lightning.

  That’s when I recognized something in his eyes that I hadn’t before.

  They looked blue today in the spring sunshine, brighter than their normal shade of stormy grey that I’d gotten accustomed to.

  I’d seen those eyes once a long, long time ago, I realized.

  In a vision.

  A vision of a boy playing guitar.

  A vision of those bright blue eyes looking deep into my soul.

  It all dawned on me in one fell swoop.

  “That was you,” I said.

  He furrowed his brow in momentary confusion.

  He didn’t understand, but he didn’t need to. A warmth rose up in my chest as I realized what had happened.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said, taking the roses and smelling them.

  “I told you I’d be back.”

  I smiled, a couple of happy tears popping out of my eyes and rolling down my cheeks. He brushed them away.

  “I know we haven’t known each other all that long. But it’s been a long, long time since I felt this way about anyone,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I know you’ve got ideas about Jacob. And I’m not here to ruin anything. And maybe this is wrong of me to do this, trying to take you from Jacob. But you know? I don’t care. The way I see it, Loretta, you’re the kind of person worth fighting for.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “You got to pick your battles in this life,” he said. “And for you, I’d fight ‘em all, Loretta.”

  I looked down, shook my head, then squeezed his hand before looking back up into those stormy blues of his.

  “You don’t have to, Fletcher,” I said. “You don’t have to fight anyone. You’ve got me.”

  A look of relief swept across his face, and he smiled. I grinned back, my heart feeling like it might just burst through my chest.