Lost in Tennessee

by DeVito, Anita

  “I was on the jobsite.” Kate pictured her day with an odd curiosity of wondering where she had been at the fatal moment. “I had a phone call at nine, then inspected an excavation.”

  Butch glared at his brother. “I was in bed asleep.”

  The gears kicked into place, and Kate’s thermometer went from room temperature to are-you-fucking-kidding-me hot. “You think your brother did this?” Your family watched your back, not stabbed you in it. If Jeb wouldn’t defend Butch, then she would. Kate stepped toe-to-toe with Jeb. “I’ve known him for a few days, and I know he’s too good of a man to do anything like this. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  Jeb lowered that steel gaze to Kate. “Don’t act like you know my brother. You’re just his latest fancy. Butch is just like Baskin-Robbins: thirty-one flavors, one for each day of the month.”

  Butch pulled Kate behind him. “What the hell, Jeb? I told you, it’s not like that.”

  Kate clawed her way around the buffer Butch created to yell at Jeb. “You narrow-minded asshole.” The insult stung. How had she let herself fantasize that a man like Butch could have any real interest in someone like her? She may not know how to be a girl, but a woman in a world of contractors, she knew how to stand up for herself and for Butch. “Get your mind out of his bed and out there looking for who did this. He’s being set up. You’d see that if you pulled your head out of your ass.”

  Butch pulled her by the shoulders and stepped between the two again. “Kate, stop. Jeb doesn’t—”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to? A night in lock up would teach you respect for the badge.” Jeb strained to see around Butch, lips tight as he spoke.

  Kate grabbed onto Butch’s hips and leaned until she saw those stormy eyes. “I have respect for the badge, it’s the man behind it that I think is incompetent. You don’t have to arrest me to prove it.”

  Distracted by the fight in front of her, Kate missed the storm that brewed behind.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Tom Riley filled the doorway. Her cousin always did love a good entrance. A looming six foot four with dark features, broad shoulders, and hands like ham hocks, Tom demanded attention. His long, dark brown hair matched the color of his menacing eyes. A scowl tightened his face with outrage.

  Kate turned to face her cousin as her mind raced. She should have known he gave in too easily. Grateful he didn’t put up a fight, Kate missed it as early warning of a bigger storm. “Tom. What hell are you doing here?”

  “Of course, this would be Tom,” Butch said.

  Tom looked down at Kate, ready to jump into the middle of her fight. “I’ve come to pull you out of this mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  “I’m not in a mess.”

  “Yes, you are,” Jeb said.

  “Shut up,” Kate snapped at Jeb and struck a composed stance for her cousin. “Tom, I’m in the middle of something here.”

  Tom glared at Jeb, though he spoke to Kate. “I heard what you’re in the middle of, and we’re going.”

  “She’s not going anywhere.” Butch tucked Kate under his shoulder. “Jeb, do what you have to do. I know you don’t believe I did that to Angie. Find who did. It wasn’t me.”

  Jeb slapped his hands on his thighs and then flung them in the air. “Take off those goddamned rose-colored glasses. You think it’s just a coincidence that she shows up here, moves into your house and—poof—your ex-wife is dead after confronting her in the bathroom?”

  Butch pushed Kate firmly behind him. “You think Katie did that to Angie?”

  Tom stalked across the floor. “I’ve heard enough. Let’s go, Kate. Next time you want to talk to her, do it through our lawyer.”

  Kate jumped back and avoided Tom’s hand. “I’m not going with you.” Kate scrambled to put the couch between her and Tom. She knew she was faster, but if Tom got his hands on her, she was toast.

  “The hell you are.” Tom took off after her.

  Butch and Jeb shouted at the circling pair. Kate dashed around the room. Tom jumped on the couch, tipped it, and caught Kate by the waist. He flung her over his shoulder and ran toward the door. Kate pounded on his back to no effect, arching her back to overbalance him. There was a sharp crack and a high-pitched yelp.

  Kate squeezed her eyes shut, but still the world spun. A heavy thud sounded, and then something soft cushioned her.

  “Kate? Kate? Come on, Kate. Open your eyes. You’re scaring me.” A hand pressed into her shoulder.

  “Tom?”

  Tom let out a breath. “That’s right, Kate. It’s Tom.”

  “Tom,” Kate repeated. Then she led with her left, intending to dislodge the arm that trapped her. “Jerk.” She missed his arm but found his jaw.

  Tom fell to his knees on the floor while Kate scrambled to her feet.

  “You can’t make me leave.” The world spun. There was three of everything and too much noise.

  Tom reached out for Kate with arms twice as long as they should have been. Kate dodged him again. Her legs were too long, her knees too knobby, but she refused to fall. Solid hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her against a hard body, and she threw elbows, kicking out in random directions.

  Butch’s voice reached through the chaos. “Enough. Stop it. Everyone. Katie, let me look at you.”

  She stood in Butch’s arms, watching her cousin sit on the ceiling.

  “Shit. You really got me that time.” Tom rubbed his jaw as the floor swung left then right, left then right.

  Jeb stood over Tom with his practiced glare. “Do you want to press charges for assault, Kate?”

  “She can’t,” Tom said. “I’m family. She’d just have to bail me out. I’m Tom Riley, Kate’s cousin and partner.”

  Silence weighed heavily with the energy of the chaos drained. Jeb had left after his radio squawked about a problem elsewhere in the county but not before he warned he’d be back after work. Kate turned down an offer of a red-light escort to the emergency room, which left Tom tending to her sore head. Tom finished the chore and went to the job site, after accepting Butch’s offer of a bed and a meal. Kate washed off the day with a hot shower, after which, she went in search of company to break the silence.

  She found Butch in the living room with sheets of legal paper scattered across a folding table. With one elbow planted on the table, Butch supported his head with his hand while his other arm pinned the legal pad to the surface. His hair stood on end, pointing in all directions. As she watched, he lifted his head and ran his supporting hand through his hair. Agitated fingers sent the strands even more askew. He tore the sheet of paper from the pad, wadded it up, and started again.

  “Music is hard work, huh?”

  Butch stared out of the top of his eyes, looking as if someone pulled out his fingernails with a pair of pliers. “This ain’t work. It’s torture. As directed by Mr. Finch, I am making a list my marital assets by the end of the day. That man does love his deadlines.”

  Kate smiled wryly. “Deadlines make things happen.”

  Butch’s scowl deepened. “You even sound like him. Are you going to help me or what?”

  Kate climbed over the arm of the couch, threading her legs under the table. “What can I do?”

  “I don’t know. Fawn and I were only married for two years, but she went on a spending spree the day after we said ‘I do.’ We have two houses—not counting this one, which is my parents’—four cars, art, my instruments and equipment, and four bank accounts.”

  Kate read the legal document as he ranted about the most recent years of his life. “Well, it’s a good thing you knew Finch before you met Fawn. Just glancing over this, I’ll say it looks like as tight a contract as I’ve ever read.”

  Butch took a drag from his latest bottle of beer. Two empties already sat on a corner. Butch had an edge to him. One he deserved to have.

  The way Kate read it, Butch was a little angry, a little frustrated, a little overwhelmed, and a little lost. She took
his hand, kissed his palm, and cradled it to her cheek. “I’m sorry. I wish I could take it all away for you.”

  Butch leaned forward and, with a long sigh, rested his head on her shoulder. She snuggled against him. He stayed quiet, still, and she wondered once again what he was thinking.

  As if he heard her unspoken question, he turned his head and whispered softly to her, “What do you see in me?”

  Chapter Seven

  Kate’s mouth went dry, and she forgot every word she’d ever learned. “Um, huh?”

  Butch burrowed into the den of red hair at the base of her neck. “Humor me. I’m wallowing in self-pity. Tell me something good about me.”

  Kate wrapped her arms around him and held him to her heart. “I look at you, and I see everything a man should be. Wickedly smart, incredibly talented, and hot as hell.” She pressed her lips to his hair when she felt his smile against her skin. “You’re strong without being overbearing. You’re kind. Don’t dismiss that. There isn’t enough kindness in the world. Strength and kindness can change the world. I’ve never met a man as passionate as you. Your passion comes through in your music. It’s like you can reach into my soul and heal the wounds.”

  “You have wounds?” His husky voice, audible only in the silence of the house, bared the depth of his unhappiness.

  Kate closed her eyes tightly and answered softly. “Doesn’t everyone?”

  “Tell me more about the hot as hell part.”

  Kate chuckled, glad for his attempt to lighten the mood. “Well, you are. There’s this spot I just love. Right here.” She caressed the intriguing little dip between his shoulder and his neck. “I know this must hurt like hell, but you had the courage to love. That’s not a little thing either. Too many people can’t trust, can’t give themselves freely. Having the capacity to love and the courage to love makes you an incredible man.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  “I told you, I don’t have a love story. There have been men I’ve cared about, certainly men I’ve been attracted to, but I’m not sure I’ve ever been in love. I don’t know.” She paused. “I don’t think they were in love with me either.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  Kate rested her cheek against his hair. Closing her eyes, she told him her biggest fear. “I’m just not that lovable. I’m not very good at being a girl.”

  Butch sat up, lifting her chin to look at him when she tried to hide. “I think you’re very good at being a girl, Katie.”

  Kate hated how every emotion painted her cheeks. She treasured Butch’s compliment, would hold it close to her heart, but didn’t know what to say next. “I, uh, like that you call me Katie. No one has ever called me that.”

  Butch rubbed his lips over hers, soothing her and, in turn, soothing his own ache. “Katie. My Katie.”

  Had he ever been in love before? He’d never had this easy kind of happy. Angie had been his first love. They figured it all out together. They’d both made their share of mistakes, but they always had each other to fall back on. His second wife, Tessa, had been his spiritual mate. As driven about her art as Butch was about his music, Tessa ignited something in him that had never been touched before. But when his path veered from hers, she walked away. She chose her uncompromising art over her husband.

  So why had he fallen for Fawn? He didn’t like the answer. She needed him. Maybe he had a hero complex like Jeb had said. Young, talented, and beautiful, Fawn had looked at him as though he could walk on water. She was everything his ego needed until her own career began. Overnight he became old, out of step, unsupportive.

  “What are you thinking about?” Kate asked in a quiet voice.

  He settled her onto the couch next to him, lacing their fingers together. “My ex-wives. I don’t think I made good choices.”

  One side of Kate’s mouth curled upward. “Well, hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Next time, just ask your brother. He’ll tell you if you’re making a mistake. You haven’t said anything about the second ex-Mrs. McCormick. Where is she?”

  “Tessa? She died a few years ago. She was a ceramic artist and did beautiful work. There was a fire in her studio, and she didn’t survive. You’ll appreciate this bit of irony. I signed with Finch mid-marriage. He had us file a bunch of papers making us partners in each other’s work. After the divorce, we kept the partnership. After she died, the value of her art skyrocketed. Between the sales and the insurance, she made me a rich man as much as I earned it. I started an art endowment in her name at her college with part of the money.”

  “See how good you are? Who else would have thought to use the money to help kids? You’re a good man, Butch McCormick. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. That includes you, muscles.”

  Butch pressed her hand to his lips, his eyes nearly burning with tears.

  “I am glad for the twisted fate that brought me here. I’ll even take the shredded tire and banged up wheel well, because I know when I look back on my time in Tennessee, you’re going to be the best part.”

  He loved the idea of being her best part of Tennessee. He wanted to do something for both of them, something to write a story that would remind them both of this unexpected time together.

  “Katie, I’m going to play at the Grand Ole Opry on Saturday.”

  She looked up him with confused eyes. “Okay. Where is that?”

  Butch frowned at her clear lack of education. “In Nashville. You’ve never heard of the Grand Ole Opry?”

  Kate pressed her lips together tightly. “Should I have?”

  “Hell, yes. You’re coming with me. Trudy and Hyde usually come with me. We’ll drag Jeb and make a weekend of it.”

  “Can Tom come, too?”

  “Sure. The ladies will adore him.” Butch waved at the spread of papers on the table. “I need a break from this. I’m going to go upstairs and play for a bit. Call me when Jeb and Tom are back, please.” He stood from the couch, walking away from the remnants of his life. Then he stopped, went back to Kate and kissed her deeply. Sweetly. A word floated in his mind: love.

  Kate sat on a folding chair in the middle of the front yard. Chubsy sat on her feet. Both of them looked at Butch’s house. The classic farmhouse had an off-set front door, with tall windows and a low porch that ran the width of the house. The house sat atop a small hill overlooking the road. It wasn’t imposing, but cozy. She smiled, imagining Butch and Jeb as children, running around the yard causing all sorts of trouble. She imagined their children would do the same.

  “Children?” Had she actually thought about children? Kate looked at the little hillside that would make a perfect sledding hill, if it ever snowed enough to sled.

  Tom pulled up the driveway and blocked Butch’s truck in the garage.

  Kate made a note on the edge of the paper. “Going to need a better way to park.”

  A door slammed closed and Tom’s voice called across the yard. “You know you look like a crazy lady sitting on that chair facing the wrong way and talking to yourself. Maybe you hit your head harder than we thought.”

  “Ha ha. I’m working on something. If you’re not going to be helpful, go away.” Kate twisted, hiding her work from him.

  “Ok. You have my curiosity up. What are you working on?”

  “Butch’s house. You won’t believe how much crap he has at his house in California. He’s going to need twice the square footage to handle even half of it. I thought the old farmhouse could be spruced up a bit. Look here.” Kate held out her sketch pad. “It needs new bedrooms—ones with closets—and the one bathroom thing has to go. I thought if we got rid of the second floor altogether, just opened it up like a vaulted ceiling, and salvaged the wood, we could add wings here and here.” She pointed to the east and west sides of the house. “We’ll have to move the garage, but he needs more parking anyway.”

  “At this rate he will. Where did you find that chair?”

  “Garage.” Kate smiled when he returned and planted his chair next to hers. �
�He needs a studio, a big one. I think an office would make sense, too. He can’t work on card tables and boxes.”

  Tom pulled a pen from his pocket and drew on the nearest corner. “Maybe three wings would be better. Make it into a square, like this, with a courtyard. We could separate the living quarters, his work space, and visitor rooms.”

  Kate nodded. “Unless we soundproof the studio, you wouldn’t want bedrooms near it. He’s a night owl.”

  “The west wing will be the bedrooms. First floor will have four bedrooms and two baths. The upstairs will be the master suite with a sitting room and office.”

  “Unconventional. I like it. Plus the sun won’t wake him.”

  “Exactly, and he’ll have good light in the evening.”

  “The east wing will be his performance wing with easy access from the central house. There.” Kate showed Tom the sketch pad. “By the way, Butch wants us to go to the Grand Old Opera with him on Saturday.”

  “Opera? Seriously?”

  “I guess. It’s in Nashville. I didn’t have a chance to look it up on the Internet. He said the ladies would love you.”

  “Well, naturally. Count me in. Look at this.” Tom steered them back to the house. “I can do a lot with the roofline.”

  “We could do two floors on the studio. The second floor can have a balcony.”

  Tom grinned. “Excellent. Let’s take a look at her bones.”

  The pair of bone diggers invaded the house, tapping on the walls and crawling on the floor. “This wall isn’t a bearing wall.”

  Butch stopped playing and looked up from the piano. “What’s a bearing wall?”

  “A wall that holds the house up,” Tom answered. “We can’t cut one.”

  Butch frowned. “Why would you be cutting my walls?”

  Kate stood up, pointing to the closed door off the living room. “To make room for all your shit. What’s behind this door?”

  “My grandparents’ bedroom.” Butch slid off the bench and opened the door. The forgotten bedroom held a treasure trove of goods.

  Katie stepped around a pair of stacked chairs. “Huh. There’s more furniture in here than in the whole house.”