by Elle Casey
“Why on earth would I want to do that?” I ask.
“Well, you’d be helping your friend Ty out, for one.”
I snort by accident, laughing and inhaling at the same time. “He’s not my friend.” He’s annoying, confused, and sneaky. And hot, but that part doesn’t matter. And sometimes charming, but that also doesn’t matter.
“Really? He always seemed like a pretty cool guy to me.” Red’s smile is slow. I think he’s teasing me.
“Well, he can be cool, sure. But he can also be a jerk. Trust me.”
“Maybe he’s just frustrated because of the stuff that you were mentioning. Because he doesn’t feel like he belongs.”
Red is plucking those damn heartstrings of mine again. Sprong! I’ve been a homeschooled hippie living on a commune all my life; I know a thing or two about not belonging. And I most certainly know what it’s like to have a dream and watch it slip away.
“Maybe,” I concede, “but that’s not my problem.” It’s not my problem, it’s not my problem, it’s NOT my problem!
“But aren’t you at all interested in the story?” I can tell he desperately wants me to understand him, but I’m lost.
“What story?”
“The story about the time before you were born, and then the time you were conceived, and then the time after. Don’t you want to hear our end of it? Don’t you want to get to know the man who’s your biological father, and the fathers of your sisters?”
Click, click, pull! Boom! Both barrels! He saved the big guns for last. Smart man. His words have sent my emotions warring inside me. I would be a complete empty-headed numbskull to not wonder about those things, but I fear the price I’d have to pay to get to know them would be too high.
I sigh, letting my frustration out in a long stream of hot air. “Of course I’m curious, Red, but not knowing has kept me protected my whole life . . . and I kind of like how uncomplicated and simple my world is.” Being in that club in Toronto just that one night taught me all I need to know about the crazy life of a rocker and anyone attached to one.
“I get it, I do . . . I really do.” He reaches out to take my hand, and I let him because I’m temporarily caught up in his enthusiasm. “And I know that this rock ’n’ roll lifestyle is not something you want. But you don’t have to be a part of that. You can be in the background as a consultant. Nobody even has to know who you are to the band, know your background or how we’re connected. We can keep it totally professional to the outside world. They won’t even see you.”
For a nanosecond I wonder what it would be like to have the freedom to say yes. But then that moment passes and I ask myself: Who would manage my hives? Who would help Rose in the clinic? Who would take my place and do all the things I do to keep our family business running?
“I don’t know. I have work on the farm I have to do.” I pull my hand from his grasp.
“It wouldn’t be for long. Just a couple weeks. And if you need to go home to do some work, you can go back whenever you want. You’d be in complete charge of your schedule. It’s a hundred percent flexible. The jet would be at your disposal. It can even fly into smaller regional airports, you know.”
I can’t believe it, but he’s actually tempting me. There’s no denying that the idea of pointing this man and his bandmates in the right direction so that Ty can have a satisfying career with them would make me feel good. Ty’s not always a jerk, and I think the times that he was, he was suffering from a broken heart or misinformation. The band that he loves more than anything in the world isn’t reaching out to him like they should, but I could show them how.
Two big questions remain, though: Do I want to learn more about these men who are fathers to my sisters and me, or am I better off not knowing? And do I have a moral obligation to help another human being—Ty—when he needs it, even though it may harm me in the process? Maybe. But I’m not convinced.
“I’d need to talk to my sisters about this. And I’m not saying yes at all. Just that I’d need to talk to them before anything could ever happen differently in my life.” My heart is pounding hard and fast. This conversation is forcing me to pull out decisions I made in the past for closer examination . . . choices I made that could now be altered as a result of what I do with Red’s proposal. If I were given another chance, would I still choose to stay on the farm with my family, or would I choose something more exciting for myself . . . something focused on my own happiness and not the happiness of others?
“You and your sisters are pretty close, huh?” he asks.
“Closer than anyone in the world. I won’t do anything that would hurt them, and I make decisions only with one hundred percent of their support.”
“That’s fine with us. I’ll tell you what . . . Take the day. Hell, think it over for as long as you need to. And then, when you’re ready to give us a decision, get in touch through Lister. He always knows where we are. How’s that sound?”
A tingle runs along my entire body, as if my life somehow fundamentally changed in that moment. “That sounds . . . fine.”
“Excellent.” He stands and I follow suit. “Thanks for meeting me for coffee,” he says, digging into his front pocket.
“Sure, no problem. Thanks . . . to you too. For meeting me.” Thirty minutes with the man and I’m still an awkward nerd. And yet, he’s as cool as a cucumber in a freezer. We can’t possibly be related.
He throws two twenty-dollar bills down on the table. “Are you all set for your stay here?”
I look at him, confused about what he means. “I think so.”
“You have enough money for your travel and accommodations?”
He thinks I need his money. I go cold at the insinuation. “Yes. I don’t need anything from you.”
His arms drop to his sides and he stares at me for a long time. It makes me uncomfortable.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
He slowly shakes his head. “I’m looking at you like that for so many reasons. I’m wondering if you’re okay. I’m wondering if you’re happy. I’m wondering if there’s anything in this world that I could do or give to you to make your life better. I’m wondering if you’re my daughter or the daughter of one of my best friends. I’m wondering if you know how much I loved your mother. I’m wondering if you know how sorry I am for not being a part of your life all these years.”
Gut punch. Tears rush to my eyes, and I don’t want him to see them. “I have to go.” I leave the restaurant at a run and don’t stop until I’m at the elevators. I slap the buttons trying to get the damn thing to come faster. When the doors finally open, Jeremy is standing there, smiling with his silly gold buttons in two rows down his chest.
“Hello, Ms. Fields.” As soon as he sees my tears, though, his face falls. “What happened?”
I rush into the elevator. “Just bring me to my room, please. I’m sorry for being rude.”
“You’re not being rude, ma’am. Just sad. I get it.”
I cry silently all the way up to my floor and pat Jeremy on the shoulder as I leave the elevator. It’s all I’m capable of right now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
As soon as I’m in my room, I call my sisters, but the phone just rings and rings, and neither of them answers. I think about my next move and realize there’s only one for me to make. I can’t just sit here in this hotel room wondering what I should do. I’ll walk around in circles and wear a hole in this expensive carpet. I call the house phone at the farm and wait for someone to pick up there.
“Yello.”
“Is this Barbara?”
“No, this is Carol. Amber?”
I nod. “Yes, it’s me.”
“What’s wrong? You sound like you’re crying.”
“I am.” I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to control my emotions.
“What happened? Tell me what’s going on.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
She instantly goes tough on me. “I know you�
��re in New York City, and I know you’ve met with the band, so out with it.”
“They told you?” I didn’t think to instruct my sisters to keep our conversations to themselves. Is everyone going to be angry at me when I get back? All that thought does is make me cry harder.
“Yes, they’ve told us. And while we’re not thrilled with the idea that you went down there without saying anything to us, we understand.”
The load weighing on my heart lightens just a bit. “Okay, well that makes me feel a little better.”
“Are you upset because you thought we’d be mad at you?”
“No, it’s more than that.”
“Do you want to talk to me, or do you want to wait for your mom?”
“Is she around?”
“No, she went out to the store, and I don’t know when she’ll be back.”
“I guess I can talk to you.”
“So, I’m sloppy seconds, is that it?” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“No, it’s not like that at all. You know I love you just as much as I love Barbara.”
“I know, I was only teasing. Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”
“Well, I just had coffee with Red Wylde.”
“Really?” Her voice becomes all breathy and high-pitched. “How is he doing? How does he look? Does he look good? I’ll bet he does. What was he wearing?”
“Carol, if you’re going to go all fangirl on me right now, I’m not going to be able to have this conversation with you.”
Her tone becomes more subdued. “That’s all right, I get it. Just ignore me. I’m having a little moment, that’s all.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, he was very silly about you girls too. He said he really loves you. His memories of you are . . . fond.”
She doesn’t respond, but I can sense her intense emotions over the telephone line. I keep going so she won’t start crying.
“We were talking about the inheritance or settlement . . . whatever . . . that they’ve offered, which we turned down, but he said there’s more to the story than what you told us.”
A long sigh comes over the line before she responds. “Maybe there is.”
“What do you mean, maybe?” I’m not liking the feeling that’s welling up in me. I want to believe my mothers are innocent of any wrongdoing in this situation, that they did what they thought was best and weren’t being intentionally cruel to anyone involved.
“Well, there always is, isn’t there? There’re always two sides to every story. But we have never lied to you. Maybe by omission, but not directly.”
“I know that.” A piece of Red’s story leaks from my brain. “But maybe you don’t have the whole story.”
“What did he say about it?”
“I didn’t want to hear his baloney, so he didn’t say anything. But he did make me feel crappy about painting him as the bad guy.”
“Don’t they all?”
“All?”
“Yes. All men. In my experience they tell you the story that makes them look as good and innocent as possible. There’s a reason we chose to leave and not involve them in that decision, but it doesn’t make them bad guys, per se. It’s just . . . the way it had to be.”
“Maybe.” Carol’s responses leave me with the sense that I still only have part of the story, but this is not the time to dig deeper. “Anyway, he made me a different proposition.”
“Is this going to make me upset?” she asks, suspicion lacing her voice.
“I don’t think so. They’re having a bit of an image problem with this new band member they have, and they’ve asked me to help them out with it.”
“And how would you go about doing that?” She sounds surprised.
“Well, I would work as a consultant, I guess. It’s just for a couple weeks. I’m supposed to help them update their look.”
“You mean change the way they look physically?”
“Maybe. I haven’t really thought it through.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Which part? Changing their look or taking the job?”
“Either one. I mean, do you really want to leave here and live in New York City?”
“No, I don’t think so.” I feel like I’m lying to my mother. Do I want to live in New York City? Part of me is saying yes. My pulse quickens. I couldn’t. Not permanently. They need me on the farm.
“Hmmm . . . You just said think so,” Carol says.
Busted. “So? What does that matter?”
“You’re not a person to do anything by half measures or to waffle. When you say you don’t think so, that means you’re considering it.”
I sigh loudly, so frustrated with my confused brain and a mother who can read my mind better than I can. “Maybe I am. I don’t know. I’m very mixed-up right now.”
“Does this have anything to do with that lead guitarist, by any chance?”
“No,” I scoff. Ridiculous. “Why would it?”
Her voice takes on a teasing tone. “I don’t know. I hear he’s pretty cute. And I hear he’s been spending some time with you, too.”
“Listen, I’m not a groupie, okay? I’m not going to fall in love with the lead guitarist for Red Hot, unlike some people.”
“That’s not funny.”
“And neither is you teasing me about falling in love with some guitarist I don’t even know.”
“Is he really that bad?” She sounds sad about the idea.
This conversation is exhausting. “I don’t know. No. Maybe. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Okay. Well . . . did I help you at all? I’m not sure I have.”
“I don’t know. But I need to make a decision soon about what I’m going to do. If I’m going to help them out, I don’t want to go all the way back home and then come back here again. I’d like to just get it done and then fly home after.”
“You said it’s going to be a two-week thing. We can certainly handle anything that’s going on here for that period of time, so don’t worry about the farm. If that’s what your indecision is about, it’s a nonissue.”
“No, it’s not just my work on the farm or the hives or the market.”
“Tell me what it is, then. Just come right out and say it.”
I blurt out the thought that keeps trying to hide from me. “I don’t want to get attached.”
“To whom?”
“To anyone!” I yell. “I get it, okay? I can see how you and my mom and Sally got wrapped up in this stuff all those years ago! They’re nice guys when they want to be. And they’re interesting. And they’re talented.” I hate admitting that. I don’t like their music now any more than I did before, but after having met them, it has more meaning to me. And knowing that my moms were around when they wrote their best music that Ty plays so well only enhances that emotion. I can still picture him up on that stage, and the image makes my heart skip out of rhythm.
“I know, I know,” she says wistfully. “I get it.”
“But these men didn’t want us,” I say, close to weeping again. “They let all of us go.”
Carol says nothing to that.
“So why should I give them the time of day? Why should I help them out? I should spend two weeks trying to destroy their band, not help it.”
“Come on, Amber,” she scolds softly, “we didn’t raise you to be like that.”
“I know. And that pisses me off too.”
She laughs. “Why?”
“Because. That would be justice, for me to do something mean like that . . . and I like things to be fair.”
“Oh, come on . . . First of all, two wrongs don’t make a right; we’ve always taught you that. And second of all, since when is life ever fair? Life is never fair. In fact, if life starts being fair, you’d better watch your backside because karma is coming for ya.”
“Why does it have to be like that?”
“Because . . . if life were fair all the time and you never had any obstacles or things to
surmount, it would be incredibly boring and you wouldn’t want to go on anymore.”
I let that sink in for a few seconds. She’s probably right. She always is. And even if I disagreed, I don’t have the juice left in me to argue about it. “You’ve given me some things to think about. How about I call you guys later?”
“Just don’t forget one thing,” Carol says.
“What’s that?”
“Remember that we love and support you, which means we trust that whatever decision you make is going to be in your best interests, because you’re smart, you’re strong, and you’re nobody’s fool.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. I wish I shared it.”
“You do, though! You know what you’re all about. You’re not going to fall for any big-city nonsense. And you’re not going to fall for the groupie bullshit either. You’re smarter than we were.”
I almost don’t want to say this, but I need to be up-front with her. “What if I do think the guitarist is really cute?”
“Big deal. So he’s cute. Love is not just about looks, and you know that. Remember, life on the road is not easy. These men sacrifice a lot. And anyone who’s going to be with them on a permanent basis is going to have to sacrifice a lot too. It’s why we left. If you go into this thing with your eyes open and you know what’s what, then you’re less likely to get hurt. Your moms and I were very naïve when we were your age, and we were younger than you are when we were with them. We didn’t know our assholes from a hole in the ground back then. We’re older and wiser now, but we did a lot of stupid shit back in the day.”
“Do you think me staying here and working with them for two weeks is a stupid thing to do?”
“No. Honestly, I think it will be good for you and a lot of fun. You’ve spent way too many years here on the farm, and you almost never get out. Since college, anyway, and even then, you were so close and always came home on breaks and did nothing off the farm. It’s not natural for someone your age.”
“Hey! Whose fault is that?” I’m a little offended that my sacrifice is being painted as me being unnatural.
“Yes, I know we raised you here and we homeschooled you long before it was the hip thing to do, but you’re twenty-four years old now. You could’ve left a long time ago.”
