by Kristi Gold
First, he had a phone call he had to make to another woman who’d probably give him hell for calling so late, even on a Saturday night.
After shutting down the truck, Brett entered the house, pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa on his way to the kitchen for some liquid courage. He set his keys next to the digital recorder attached to the phone set out on the granite bar. The red indicator showed he had twelve voice mails—two from Tim, one from his mother, the rest from various well-wishers. He’d eventually return the calls, but first things first.
He went to the refrigerator for a beer and spotted a handwritten note attached to the door with a magnet.
Don’t forget to look at the guest room. You can change it if you have to, but I hope you don’t have to. Love, Cammie.
He thought about waiting until he made the call, but that was where he headed next, leaving the beer and the note behind. He sprinted up the stairs and traveled past his bedroom to the end of the hall. He wasn’t sure why she thought this was so important, or exactly what to expect. But when he opened the door, he finally understood.
Two weird overstuffed chairs—one orange, one purple—sat in the corner of the room next to the double window. Opposite the door, a queen bed covered in a purple spread hugged the wall. And above the white tufted headboard, a plaque bearing the name of the little girl he’d made.
Lacey.
Cammie had managed to leave a hint as big as the empty space in his heart. And if ever he’d had any reservations about making the phone call, they’d all disappeared.
Brett crossed the room, took a seat on the edge of the bed and noticed the picture on the nightstand—a framed photo of then three-year-old Lacey propped on his shoulders, wearing a pink T-shirt that read Daddy’s Girl and the sweetest smile. He’d kept the memento of a better time tucked beneath his underwear in the dresser’s top drawer. He should be mad that Cammie had gone through his stuff, but he couldn’t be mad at her. Not after she’d gone to the trouble of doing this for his daughter. For him.
More determined than ever, he pulled out his cell and dialed the number that could put an end to at least some of his misery, or it could very well add to it.
Regardless, he planned to issue a few demands to Jana, tell her he still had rights and he’d see his daughter come hell or high water, even if he had to camp out on the doorstep. He’d tell her that she had no right to keep him—
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end didn’t belong to his ex-wife, and although he hadn’t heard it in a long time, he still recognized it. “Lacey?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
Apparently she didn’t remember his voice, and that ate at his soul like acid. “It’s Brett. Your dad.”
“Is this a joke?”
He couldn’t help but smile. “Nope. It’s me.”
“I just watched you win that award on TV.”
Fortunately, he hadn’t woken her up, but he doubted she still went to bed at nine, especially on the weekend. She was already halfway grown, and that made his heart hurt more. “Where’s your mom?”
“Out with Randy. I can give you her cell number.”
The fact she called her stepdad by his first name gave him a strong sense of satisfaction. Maybe he hadn’t lost her, after all. “That’s okay. I wanted to talk to you, anyway.”
“Okay.” She sounded unsure, maybe even a little nervous.
He’d start with the most obvious reason for the call. “I got your letter. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get in touch with you.” Sorry it had taken him so long to try and make things right between them.
“That’s okay,” she said. “I know you’re busy.”
What now? “I was surprised you remember that song I used to sing to you.”
“It’s downloaded on my MP3 player. I put on my headphones at night before bed and listen to it. It helps me remember. I mean, I see you all the time on the internet and in the record stores, but I like to remember you before you got so famous.”
And that fame had cost them both. “I just want you to know that none of this is your fault, Lacey. It’s my fault for not fighting harder to be in your life. I just gave up because I thought it was best for you. But I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped missing you.”
“I missed you, too. I missed all those times when you showed me how to ride Daisy. I really missed going to get ice cream when you came to see me after you and Mom divorced.”
A divorce that had damn near ruined both their lives. But then he wouldn’t have met Cammie. “I’d sure like to see you again real soon.”
“I’d like that, too. A lot.”
An idea suddenly occurred to Brett. A great idea, if she agreed to it. “Would you like to come here to Nashville for a few days? I have a concert coming up and I’d like for you to be there.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Can I bring a friend?”
“I was thinking maybe you could come with your grandmother. It might be the only way I can get her on a plane.”
“Nana’s cool. She lets me eat in front of the TV. Will I get to meet Cammie?”
“How do you know about her?” he asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.
“I heard Nana talking to Mom about her. She reads all the articles about you online and in the magazines. She says it’s the only way she can keep up with what you’re doing since you don’t call her enough.”
Another change he needed to make. “I’ll introduce you to Cammie at the concert.” If she didn’t bail on him.
“Are you gonna marry her?”
“If she says yes when I ask her.” He couldn’t believe how easily the words had come out of his mouth. How quickly he’d made the decision.
“All the girls think you’re hot, so she’ll say yes.”
He appreciated Lacey’s vote of confidence, even though Cammie could tell him to ride out on the horse he rode in on. “Then you’re okay with it?”
“Do you love her?”
No sense in denying it now. “Yeah, I do.”
“Then it’s okay.”
He experienced a strong since of relief. “Then it’s settled. If your mom’s fine with you making the trip, I’ll make all the arrangements.” And that was a major hurdle they still had to clear.
“I’ll talk her into it,” she said. “I’ll promise to clean my room and do the laundry and not talk back. Much.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Between the two of us, we might be able to convince her to let you come.”
A span of silence passed before Lacey spoke again. “Are you going to sign the papers?”
Not on her life. “No, sweetheart, I’m not. You’re stuck with me.”
“I love you, Daddy.”
His mom had once told him a child would forgive almost anything if you gave them your love. Now he knew she was right. “I love you, too, kiddo. And I’ll see you real soon.”
After Brett hung up, he felt a solid sense of satisfaction mixed with more than a few regrets. He regretted all the time he’d wasted to get to this point. He’d never believed he deserved to be a part of his daughter’s life, but he did deserve it, and Lacey did, too. She deserved a dad who’d be there for her through thick and thin, and he’d be that dad from now on. Cammie had taught him that.
He realized his drive to succeed had been influenced by his own dad’s failures as a musician and a father. But he couldn’t c
ondemn him for that. Not after he’d gone down the same path with Lacey. He also regretted he had been so full of anger and pride that he hadn’t told his dad goodbye when he’d had the opportunity. That he hadn’t told him he loved him, because he had loved him in spite of his flaws.
He guessed that was what love was all about—forgiving and forgetting in the face of failure. Exactly what Cammie had been trying to tell him. Exactly why she loved him, although sometimes he didn’t see what he’d done to warrant that love. And he didn’t know what he’d do if he lost it—and her—for good.
The regrets and loss and sorrow from years past, the victories and defeats from today, bore down on him like a runaway train. And in the silence of the room reserved for his child, a gift from the one woman strong enough to slay his biggest demon—fear of commitment—he did something he hadn’t done in over a decade.
He cried.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SHE WOULD BE LUCKY if she made it on time.
Cammie took two wrong turns before she finally located the concert site set up on rural land west of Nashville. She showed her credentials at the gate, gained immediate admittance and navigated the company truck down a gravel drive past tons of cars and trucks parked on the grass. She hadn’t expected some fancy venue befitting of an upscale fundraiser, but out in the middle of nowhere? Of course, this was Brett Taylor’s concert, and definitely his cup of tea—performing in a glorified pasture.
But the closer she came to the location, the more she realized he’d gone to a lot of expense—from the gigantic video screen hovering above the semicircle of temporary bleachers filled with fans, to the towering lights illuminating numerous refreshment tents set about the area. After she pulled the truck next to an eighteen-wheeler, she grabbed her tote bag, slid out of the cab and drew in a deep breath. Time to literally face the music—and Brett. First, she needed to see if her surprise had arrived.
Cammie visually scanned the area behind the makeshift stage, but the place was too dark to see much more than a few shadowy figures. She did see the bus parked in the distance and assumed Brett was hiding away in there.
“Hey, good lookin’. Can I buy you a beer?”
She didn’t have to look behind her to know who’d delivered that tired come-on line. Her surprise had definitely arrived. She turned around, dropped her bag at her feet and practically hurled herself into Pat’s arms, nearly knocking him backward. “You made it!”
After giving her one heck of a bear hug, he set her back and grinned. “I told you I’d be here, didn’t I?”
Yes, he had, during their phone conversation a week ago when she’d asked him to temporarily come out of retirement. “Did you bring Sadie with you?”
“Nah. Her daughter came in with the boys today, so she stayed home. And get this. They’re calling me Grandpa. Never thought I’d hear that.”
Cammie was tickled over the absolute pride in his voice. “That’s wonderful, Pat. And it looks like you’ve gained a little weight, which is a good thing. Sadie must be a good cook.”
He patted his belly. “Yeah, she cooks good, but she’s a better kisser. It’s a damn good feeling to get a second chance with her. And if Brett was smart, he’d follow my lead.”
Since she’d already filled Pat in on some of the details, she’d known it would be only a matter of time before that subject came up. “Have you seen him yet?”
“Nope. I just got here a few minutes ago. I figured I wouldn’t make an appearance until the second set. Walker knows what’s going down and he’s on board with the plan.”
Cammie signaled Pat to join her behind the metal support in case Brett suddenly appeared without warning. “I’ve been instructed to perform in the second set, too. And I can’t wait to see Brett’s face when he sees you onstage.” She couldn’t wait to see his face, period. That gorgeous face that had haunted both her waking and sleeping dreams.
When she heard the recorded version of their special song begin to play, followed by a cheer from the crowd, her heart fluttered, then fell under the weight of regret. She’d only been there for a matter of minutes and already the memories had begun to attack her.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Look at that.”
“What?”
Pat pointed toward the stage. “On the video screen.”
Cammie came from behind the support to see the video she’d made with Brett splashed across the screen. She hadn’t seen the final edit, and now all she could do was watch in wonder. The film flashed from Brett standing in front of a studio microphone, eyes closed as he sang, to the scenes depicting a couple’s developing relationship among the notable Seattle sites. A relationship that in some ways paralleled theirs. A first meet at a café, holding hands at the waterfront, holding each other on the boat, and then the final scene on the rocky beach.
She was thrilled with the sheer beauty of the pine trees providing the backdrop, and surprised by the way the camera panned in on them to capture each shared touch that conveyed the chemistry she’d experienced firsthand. She was completely mesmerized watching Brett kiss her, just as she had been when he’d actually done it. To any casual observer, it would appear they’d played their roles to a tee. But they hadn’t been acting at all.
She swallowed around the knot in her throat and tried hard to hold back the tears. She’d sworn she wouldn’t cry over him again, and she planned to keep that promise to herself.
“I’ve never seen two people so meant to be together, Cammie.”
No tears...no tears...no tears... She turned to Pat and faked a smile. “I wish that were true. But I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised it wasn’t meant to be. We’ve only known each other four months.”
Pat draped an arm over her shoulder. “Let me tell you a little story, Cammie. My grandma and grandpa met at a church social. Two weeks later, they ran off and got married. That marriage lasted through five kids and sixty-five years until the good Lord called my grandma home. My grandpa passed three days later. So don’t tell me four months ain’t enough time to fall in love with your soul mate.”
If only Brett saw her in that light. “Sometimes love alone can’t carry a relationship.”
Pat gave her a squeeze before he let her go. “Love’s been known to fell countries and kings, so I figure the current king of country music will eventually come around. And speaking of the king, there he goes.”
Cammie looked to her left to see Brett approaching the stairs leading to the stage, a contingent of guards surrounding him and a group of people trailing behind him. They were all set in shadows, but she could still make out Bull, Rusty and Jeremy by their gaits alone. Luckily she and Pat were far enough away not to be noticed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the man responsible for this worthy event, the reigning Performer of the Year and one of the country’s most revered country singers, Brett Taylor!”
Cammie realized she was holding her breath when Brett appeared onstage to a standing ovation and deafening applause. Dressed in a black long-sleeve shirt, jeans and black hat, she couldn’t recall when she’d seen him look so darn good, even if he’d apparently lost his razor that morning. A light shading of whiskers surrounded his mouth and set off the smile he sent to the overexcited crowd. A genuine smile that said he was truly happy to be there. Maybe he would be equally happy to see her. Maybe pigs could fly.
He stepped up to the microphone and held up both hands in order to silence the masses. “First of all, thanks t
o everyone for showing up tonight to support the cause—from the bands that volunteered to open the show earlier today, to the radio stations who gave tickets away and the fans who gave up some hard-earned money to be here....”
As Brett explained the foundation’s goals, Cammie leaned closer to Pat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this pumped up.”
“I agree. Maybe he’s excited because he knows you’re going to be singing with him again.”
“I doubt that. Maybe he has a new girlfriend.”
“And I doubt that. Not when he dedicated his win at the awards show.”
She had to admit she was stunned when she’d heard about it. She’d wished she’d actually seen it. Unfortunately, by the time she’d arrived home that evening, she’d endured a two-hour interrogation about her relationship with Brett, led by her grandfather. However, dedicating an award and dedicating your life to someone were two different things.
“...so the foundation will be called the Lacey Project from this point forward. And now I’d like to introduce the person responsible for that change, my daughter, Lacey Taylor.”
Cammie couldn’t stifle a gasp, nor could she believe the uncanny resemblance between father and daughter as Lacey walked onstage, her waist-length near-black hair bouncing in time with her gait. She wore jeans and a purple T-shirt bearing her father’s name and a wide smile that revealed a shiny set of braces. When the camera panned in on Lacey’s pretty face, highlighting her vibrant blue eyes, Cammie realized Brett couldn’t deny she was his even if he tried. She was so glad he’d stopped trying.
“Did you know about this?” Pat asked.
“No, but I knew about her,” she answered. “And I’m happy he finally found a way to be with her again.” Thrilled that he’d obviously taken her parting advice.
