Texas Heat

by Rhonda Laurel

  * * *

  Tate got up early before Isabelle and went down to the stables. Three hours later he went back to the cabin, prepared to tell his lie. He gingerly walked through the cabin, looking for her, but she wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen. He stopped. The house felt eerily silent. Empty. His stomach flip-flopped. He bounded up the steps to his bedroom.

  The skylight was closed, and her things were gone. Two gift-wrapped boxes and a note sat on the bed.

  He tore into the packages. One contained a scrapbook of some of the items they’d found in Lila’s boxes, and the other held his gold watch, now in pristine condition. The watch shined like new, and the crystal had been replaced. He leafed through the book and saw the care and love she’d put into arranging the photos and ticket stubs they’d found. The book held highlights of the good times with his mother. It lightened his heart to see them all together between the pages, not scattered about far and wide like they were in his mind.

  Tate opened the note.

  The past doesn’t always have to be broken.

  Isabelle

  Tate sat down on the bed, clutching the note in his hand and feeling as if his heart was going to explode. This is what he’d decided he wanted in the wee hours of the night, for Isabelle to go away so he wouldn’t hurt her, right? Instead of elation, he felt like a callous jackass.

  * * *

  Isabelle checked the notification from the airlines on her cell phone. Her flight to Georgia would be on time. She needed to get back to her empty apartment and start furnishing her life all over again. Instead of confronting Tate about the conversation she overheard last night, she waited until he left the house to pack her things and took the golf cart in his garage over to Morgan’s house. She felt like a dramatic hot mess as she stood in her cousin’s beautiful kitchen trying not to cry while asking for a ride to the airport. Tate’s sadness about his mother dying and returning to their house had to have felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders. She wanted to kick herself for being foolish enough to think she could help him through it.

  Morgan questioned her at first, but when tears started falling from Isabelle’s eyes, Morgan sprang into action and told Seth she was using the pickup to take her to the airport. He asked her to take a moment before she up and left the state. Morgan silenced him with a quick squeeze and said they’d talk about it later. Isabelle was pretty sure Seth was been stalling, saying he misplaced the keys and left the room for a few minutes. She was almost sure she’d seen Tate’s phone on the coffee table when she’d left his cabin. Morgan found the keys herself, and they were ready to go to the airport. Seth had one more stall tactic, asking her to wait so he could have his private plane take her home, but she politely refused. Isabelle said good-bye to Jake as cheerfully as she could, hoping he couldn’t understand how bad she felt.

  “The flight is on time,” Isabelle murmured.

  Morgan nodded, her eyes on the road. “Good. I’d hate to envision you sitting in an airport lounge drowning your sorrows in ice cream for hours.”

  “I could get hammered on liquor.” Isabelle ran a hand through her hair.

  “Remember when we stole a couple of beers out the fridge? And how sick we got?” Morgan laughed.

  “I prayed for death to whisk me away many times that night. I think I went into the light at least once.” Isabelle groaned.

  “There’s nothing like a lecture from Curtis Reed. Then he called Uncle Lucas, who read us the riot act.” Morgan rolled her eyes.

  Isabelle bit her lip. “Morgan, do me a favor? Don’t give Tate a hard time when you get back to the ranch.” She swiped at the tears spilling onto her cheeks.

  “Why on earth would I do that?” Morgan cracked her knuckles.

  “That’s how the Reeds do it. When we love, it’s deep, blinding, and irrational.” Isabelle sighed.

  “True.”

  “It will serve no purpose, and it won’t change anything.” Isabelle put her hand on Morgan’s arm.

  “I promise.” Morgan nodded.

  * * *

  Tate rang the doorbell. Seth answered.

  “Is Isabelle here?” Tate took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair.

  “No, Morgan took her to the airport. What the hell happened?” Seth pulled him inside.

  “I think she may have overheard me schedule some tours dates. I was talking to Cyril and said I had to get away for a while.” He shook his head.

  “Tate, what the hell were you thinking?” Tyler said from the kitchen.

  Tate followed Seth from the foyer to the kitchen to find both Tyler and Channing sitting there.

  He didn’t get a chance to answer because the sound of the front door slamming startled all of them. Morgan entered the kitchen and threw the truck keys onto the table.

  “Hey, baby. Was Isabelle able to get a flight?” Seth kissed her.

  “Yes, thank goodness. She couldn’t get out of Dodge fast enough.” Morgan scowled at Tate.

  “Morgan,” Tate began, but he stopped when she held up her hand.

  “Tyler and Channing, you want to take your nephew to lunch today?”

  “What?” Tyler blinked.

  “I thought it would be nice if he hung out with the two of you. And Seth, don’t you have to go over some things with J.J.? I need to talk to Tate.”

  Seth stammered. “I guess I do.”

  Tate, along with everyone else, froze, not knowing what to do.

  Morgan squared her jaw. “By the time I count to ten, the only person I want to see in this kitchen is Tate.”

  “Can we really take Jake?” Channing asked.

  “One,” Morgan said.

  “One!” Jake repeated after his mother and clapped.

  “Two.”

  Tyler got up with Jake and let him kiss Morgan good-bye.

  “I hope you left me the Ferrari in your will.” Channing gave Tate an awkward hug as if he’d never see him again.

  Seth grabbed the truck keys and his hat.

  “Seth.” Tate looked at his brother.

  “Baby, he’s kind of big, so if he goes missing people will notice.” Seth kissed his wife on the top of her head and went for the door.

  The door closing sounded more like a metal cage locking for a death match.

  “Morgan,” was all Tate could manage to say again.

  “The only reason I haven’t karate kicked you into Oklahoma is because I’m pregnant and Isabelle asked me not to hurt you. She actually asked me to give you a pass from the beatdown of a lifetime because she said you’ve already been through enough. Funny, coming from a woman who’s recently divorced a cheating bastard and can’t do the one thing she loves to do, play her violin, with a broken arm and isn’t sure she’ll ever play again. I vouched for you Tate. I told her you were a good guy who had a hard childhood before you became a part of this family. I told her you were a kind, loving soul who just needed the right person in his life and he’d stop wanting to run and drown himself with women. I told her it didn’t matter if she wasn’t as worldly as you because deep down inside you were a good man with a soft heart, just like my husband. I told her you two were cut from the same cloth, that you were strong men who worked hard and loved even harder. I told her it would be OK if she followed her heart and it led her to you. She is my family, when you hurt her, you tore a hole through my heart too. And what pisses me off even more is that you’re my family too and I hate to see you hurting. I don’t think it was an easy plan you were concocting to brush her off because you couldn’t take the chance some of your old family shit would flare up. Let me tell you something, Tate McGill, my mother died when I was nine, and I just reconciled with that two months ago. So you don’t get a pass on your past. You suck it up and you fight for a normal, happy life just like we all do every day. You are better than the man who abused you. But keeping yourself from Isabelle because you don’t think you deserve that kind of happiness is total bullshit. And if you do believe that, then you were never right
for her.” Morgan walked out of the room.

  Tate stood there for the longest time hoping Morgan would come back, but he wasn’t sure he knew what he would say if she did. Maybe it was time to stop talking and just let the feelings rush through. Morgan was right. He didn’t want the woman he loved to turn into a shell of a person because he’d systematically broken her spirit due to some destructive hereditary gene.

  For so long he’d been content living in fractured pieces, writing songs to fill in the voids in his heart. Then he met Isabelle. He hadn’t felt like writing one song since he’d met her, perhaps because the loneliness that had driven him to write was dissipating. She loved playing the violin, eating good mac and cheese, and making love in the rain. She was beautiful, but she didn’t take herself too seriously. She liked helping others by helping them understand what she felt when she played her violin. Love was as simple as that, and he just pushed it away.

  Chapter Eleven

  Isabelle sat in the waiting room of her doctor’s office, wringing her hands while waiting for her name to be called. Her cast had come off last week, and this was her first consult with the doctor after he’d run some more tests. It felt good, finally having her arm free. She even considered keeping the cast as a souvenir until she saw Tate’s message on it. She tossed it instead. She didn’t want another reminder of him.

  What a relief it had been to get back to her empty apartment. Back to normal. No handsome country-western singers lurking around corners. Her first order of business had been to delete every MP3 and throw out any CDs she had of Tate’s. She was getting the hang of the whole cathartic thing and now regretted turning down her friend Frieda’s offer to throw her a divorce party.

  Dana still wasn’t returning her calls, so Isabelle had decided to give her some time before she contacted her again. She did get a thank-you note for the gifts, but she wasn’t sure if it was from Dana or someone who simply mailed out thank-you cards for her cousin. But she took it as a sign that an olive branch had been extended. Their cousin Shauna had called and said there’d been some drama over Charisma bringing Lamont Brayer. He had come with her but wanted to leave about a half hour after they’d arrived.

  “Ms. Reed,” the nurse called.

  Isabelle followed her into the examining room and took a seat. The doctor came in almost immediately.

  “I’m sorry,” were the only words she could make out because she cried through the rest of the consultation. The doctor stopped and got her a box a tissues. After fifteen minutes she’d calmed down a bit. It wasn’t hopeless, but the physical therapy would be extensive, and she wouldn’t be able to play again until they could strengthen the broken bones. It wasn’t the nail in the coffin, but her life was about to change in a way she hadn’t expected. The financial reality of this would have to be explored, and she had to make some decisions.

  “So, you’re saying physical therapy and then we can discuss my options?” She sniffed.

  “Yes,” the doctor said.

  “OK.”

  * * *

  After drowning her sorrows in ice cream for two weeks, Isabelle forced herself to get back into the world. She’d all but disappeared when things had started to go bad with Ned, and she liked to believe she’d learned from her mistakes. After reconnecting with the kids at Classic Music Rocks, she made a list of things she needed to do. It was one of the hardest things she had to do, but she called her father and told him the truth about her arm and the tough road she had ahead of her. After she convinced him not to kill Ned, he immediately demanded she come to Nevada and live with him and her mother. She declined but told him as soon as she mapped out a plan he and Mom would be the first people she called.

  Morgan’s daily calls were sweet, and she loved talking to Jake. She would always treasure that time she’d spent with him and Tate. It made her realize that happiness like that was worth fighting for with the right person. She assured Morgan she was OK and that a visit to Georgia wasn’t necessary.

  She realized what she had to do to end this chapter in her life and start anew. The calls from Ned had continued, and he was elated that she’d returned to Georgia. He was being charming and sending her flowers and gifts, but most importantly, he wasn’t listening to her. It was time to take the reins and do what she should have done months ago.

  * * *

  Isabelle glanced at her watch as she stood outside the office building sipping on a cappuccino. It was almost one o’clock, so she knew he’d be out soon. And there he was, just like clockwork. Ned may have been a lot of things, but he was always punctual. As a matter of fact, when things didn’t go exactly as they were scheduled, he became belligerent. She smiled, knowing the fact that she should have called and made an appointment was going to stick in his craw. But a surprise approach would make it impossible for Ned to turn a simple discussion into a covert move to get her back.

  “Ned!” she yelled as he and a few colleagues headed around the corner.

  “Isabelle?” He stopped in his tracks.

  “I was in the neighborhood.”

  Ned motioned for his colleagues to go ahead without him. One of his buddies even gave him a thumbs up before they went on their way.

  “So what brings you here? You know we could have made a date for lunch or even dinner.” He motioned for her to sit on the edge of the waterfall fountain in front of the building.

  “What I have to say won’t take long, then we would have been left with an awkward silence while we ate. We had enough of those moments when we were married. I have no desire to relive them again.” She bit her lip.

  “I still think we have plenty to say.” Ned loosened his tie.

  “Like what?”

  “I miss you something terrible. I was thinking we could go to marriage counseling. Try to rebuild a new foundation.” Ned touched her hand but she pulled away.

  “You still don’t understand why we got divorced?”

  Ned rolled his eyes. “No, I do understand. I cheated and you’re punishing me.”

  “Yes, you cheated, but let’s not blame the whole divorce on that. We’d been growing apart for years. I don’t know when I let you take the lead in this relationship. Maybe it just happened one day and I didn’t notice or didn’t speak up. You were domineering and possessive, and I thought it was because you loved me so much and didn’t want to lose me. But you cheating helped me realize the behavior wasn’t out of fear, it was you wanting to get your own way and keep me as the naïve fool who would put up with it.”

  “So, are you saying I turned you into some sort of doormat?” He glared at her.

  “No, I accept responsibility for what I allowed to happen. But you haven’t accepted responsibility for this.” She rubbed her arm. “You didn’t even bother to ask about my arm, considering you are partly the reason it broke. I make my livelihood with this arm. There is no fix for me if I can’t play my violin, but it never occurred to you because you never took my career seriously either.”

  He gritted his teeth. “That was an accident. I told you that the night I took you to the hospital.”

  “You know what, Ned? Apologies are what make us human. When we screw up, we try to make amends with the person we’ve hurt. You can’t even bring yourself to admit that you hurt me and that it could have a lasting effect on my life and possibly change the course of it.”

  “If you came back to me, I could take care of you. You wouldn’t have to work anymore. I’d even forget that fling you had with that guy in Philadelphia.” He stood up.

  “If I came back to you, which body part would get broken next?”

  “Are you accusing me of domestic violence? Is that why you ambushed me here in front of my work? To make some sort of scene?” He reached for her but she moved out of the way.

  “In a public place you wouldn’t be able to grab me like a rag doll. I went home and I told the family we’re divorced. Some of them know about the accident. My dad wants to send ground troops to your house, and there is a slew of famil
y and friends who want to see your skin hanging off a stick. I don’t want any more calls about reconciliation, and don’t try any bullshit moves with the alimony. I just want you to leave me be so I can get on with my life. And to make sure you do, I’m getting a restraining order against you. Get help, Ned, before you hurt someone else.” Isabelle dumped her cup in the nearby garbage and headed for her car.

  * * *

  Tate hadn’t taken one step out of his cabin in a month. He’d cancelled the grandiose tour plans he’d made with Cyril and informed his manager he would be taking more time off than he originally anticipated. He didn’t even want to think about his album’s deadline. He didn’t take any calls or visitors despite the many people who came over anyway. Nothing anyone said could make him feel better than the rotten piece of sludge he felt like. He wondered if she’d gotten any furniture for her apartment or if that jerk of an ex-husband had been calling her again. Crazy scenarios ran through his head that made him want to hit someone. He knew in times like these, a person could turn to an unlikely candidate for comfort. What if she turned to Ned? He hadn’t played his guitar since she’d left, his inspiration for the songs on his new album gone.

  The doorbell rang. Tate lifted himself off the couch to tell yet another person he wasn’t up for company. He’d been so depressed that even Rowdy stopped coming around. He opened the door to find Teri-Lyn, Morgan, and Jake standing there.

  “He’s alive.” Teri-Lyn pushed past him into the house.

  “If that’s what you want to call it.” Morgan shook her head.

  “Uncle Tate!” Jake reached for him.

  He sighed as he picked up Jake. “I appreciate you coming to check on me, but I’m not up for visitors.”

  “Your nephew missed you.” Morgan glared at him.

  Tate kissed Jake on the cheek. “I missed him too.”