You, Me and a Palm Tree

by Inglath Cooper

  Holden

  SO WHEN CASE said he didn’t want to wait, he wasn’t kidding.

  The wedding is set for Saturday evening, less than a week from the day Mira told us he had popped the question. I don’t blame them though. More and more, I’m beginning to believe that we shouldn’t put off the things that really matter.

  And it’s been good for CeCe too. She’s been busy with her mom and aunt, shopping for dresses, getting their hair done, planning the menu for the caterer. Case asked if we would be willing to sing at the wedding, and, after talking to Thomas, CeCe told him we’d be honored to.

  We get together one afternoon with the band and rehearse the songs we’ll be playing. We spend another couple of hours coming up with a set for Bartley’s charity concert which will take place a week after the wedding.

  CeCe surprises me with her focus on the music. She puts her all into it, and I realize what a professional she has become, putting the personal stuff on the back burner to the extent that no one would realize everything she has on her mind.

  But I know. I catch glimpses of it when she thinks no one is looking. A sadness in her eyes that she won’t acknowledge even to me. It’s as if she’s decided the only way to deal with what has happened is to put it away and forget that it actually did.

  It’s a solution that might work temporarily. Some things allow themselves to be put on the shelf for a bit. But I don’t believe losing a child in the way we did will stay pushed down forever.

  From my spot on the stage behind her, I strum my guitar through the last song of our set, closing my eyes to absorb her voice on each of the poignant words. I want to live this life amazed. See the world like it’s my very first day.

  That is the CeCe I’ve known and loved, the CeCe I married. Will she be able to look at life in that way again? I want to take her hand and lead her through her sorrow, shield her from the blows of grief.

  But I can’t unless she wants me to. Standing back when I see her in pain goes against everything I believe true of my role in her life.

  “How’s she doing?” Thomas asks when we’re taking a break, before going through the set one more time.

  I take a sip from a bottle of water and say, “If you ask her, she’ll say fine.”

  “If I ask you?”

  “I honestly don’t know. There’s just something different in her. This reserve. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  “CeCe’s always been one to go after life wide open,” he says. “When bad things happen to us, we get afraid to test the waters. You know that as well as I do.”

  “I didn’t expect her to want to sing this soon. For the wedding or Bartley’s show.”

  “Don’t you think it’s the best thing for her though?”

  “Mostly.”

  “She’ll find her way, Holden. You married a strong woman.”

  “I just don’t want her to think she needs to get there on her own.”

  “Then tell her.”

  “I have.”

  “Give her time, Holden. She’ll get through this.”

  I nod once because I want more than anything to believe he’s right.

  “On another note, I got the feeling you weren’t too psyched about joining up with Bartley.”

  I shrug. “I’m sure it’s a good opportunity.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know. Not too sure I liked the way he was looking at CeCe.”

  “Jealousy? Seriously? That girl is as crazy about you now as she ever was. Not that I get it, mind you,” he adds in a teasing voice. “Why would you worry about him?”

  “He’s a big star.”

  “So are you. You also happen to be her husband.”

  “Maybe I imagined it. I swear when I get up in the morning, it’s like our lives got turned upside down and shaken to the point I’m not sure what’s what.”

  “I know what you’re feeling, Holden. But don’t start looking for problems where they don’t exist. Just be who you’ve always been for CeCe and she won’t be looking to anyone else to be her hero.”

  “Thanks, man. I’m just being stupid, I guess.”

  “Hey, we all doubt sometimes. It’s the nature of being a guy.”

  “You ever doubt Lila?”

  “Early on, hell yeah. I might look like I have all the confidence in the world, but don’t let the exterior fool you.”

  “You’re full of it,” I say.

  “There he is. As long as you’re giving me crap, I know you’re gonna be okay.”

  I shake my head and land him a punch on the arm. “Let’s get back to it.”

  “Oww,” he says, protesting.

  “Wuss.”

  “Jackass.”

  ♪

  CeCe

  I’VE NEVER SEEN Mama so happy. Aunt Vera too. I think they’re afraid to let me see it though. As if their happiness somehow takes away from what’s happened to Holden and me. They’ll be laughing when I walk in a room, and as soon as they see me, they stop.

  Which is what happens on Thursday morning when I walk into the kitchen. They’re drinking coffee at the table, laughing at something on Aunt Vera’s phone. They look up, spotting me and go silent.

  “Hi, honey,” Mama says. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “I’d love some,” I say.

  Mama starts to get up from the table, but I tell her I’ll get it. I pour a cup and join them. “Can I ask you two a favor?”

  “Of course,” Aunt Vera says.

  “What is it, honey?” Mama asks.

  “Can you not feel guilty for being happy? You should be happy. And I’m happy for you.”

  Mama reaches across to take my hand. “I guess I do feel guilty. That maybe the timing isn’t right.”

  “You and Case have loved each other for a long time. You shouldn’t wait another minute to be together.”

  “She’s right, Mira,” Aunt Vera says. “We’re kind of closing her out by acting glum every time she walks in the room. I’m sorry, CeCe. I didn’t realize we were doing that. But you’re right. We have been.”

  “I’m really sorry, honey,” Mama says, stricken. “That’s the last thing I meant to do.”

  “I know. It’s okay. You’re trying to protect me, but I need to be a part of it. The joyful part too.”

  Mama gets up and walks around the table to pull me in her arms. “I love you so much. Life is going to be good again. It will.”

  I hug her back, hard. I want to believe her. More than anything, I want to believe her.

  ♪

  WE SPEND THE DAY getting a final fitting for Mama’s dress. She looks so beautiful in it. “It looks like it was made for you, Mama. It couldn’t be more perfect.”

  She runs her hands down the front, studying her reflection in the long mirror before us. “Really? Do you think I’ll look pretty enough for a man like Case? There will probably be eight ex-girlfriends at the wedding.”

  “And is he marrying any of them?” Vera throws out with her typical candor.

  I smile and say, “Good point.”

  “I’m just worried I’ll look too old or too wrinkled.”

  “Stop,” I say. “You’re neither one of those. He’ll be speechless when he sees you at the end of that aisle.”

  “I’ve never cared too much about being pretty,” she says. “But I admit that on Saturday, I really would like to be.”

  “You are,” I say. “And you will be.”

  ♪

  I HAVE AN appointment with Dr. McCormack at two, so I leave Mama and Aunt Vera at the boutique to finish up. I’m pulling out of the parking lot when my cell phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but pick up anyway.

  “CeCe, it’s Jacob Bartley. I hope you don’t mind me calling your cell. I got the number from your manager. We go way back.”

  “Oh. Hi, Jacob. No, of course not. It’s fine.”

  “I just wanted to thank you again for agreeing to do the show on such short notice. We were in a pretty b
ad bind.”

  “We’re really happy to be a part of it,” I say, intentionally putting the ‘we’ in there.” But then I feel silly and add, “What can I do for you?”

  “I was hoping you might be willing to meet with me to have another conversation about the orphanage in Belize. Maybe I’m mistaken, but I thought it seemed to strike a chord with you.”

  “It sounds like a wonderful place,” I say. “What do you need?”

  “Can we meet to discuss it?” he asks again.

  I feel the alarm bell. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t. But it’s Jacob Bartley, so I say, “I have an appointment downtown in a little over an hour. I’m near the Row right now.”

  “That’s perfect. Meet me at the studio in ten minutes?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  “Can’t wait to see you,” he says.

  I click off then, wondering what kind of door I’ve just opened.

  ♪

  CeCe

  JACOB BARTLEY looks like a cross between Tim McGraw and Dierks Bentley. He’s every bit as successful, and something in the way he carries himself says he’s aware of it. He’s waiting for me at the front entrance to the studio, his perfect white smile welcoming.

  “Hey,” he says, putting a hand on my arm and guiding me to his office. “Thank you for coming by. I didn’t expect to get to see you again this soon.”

  “I’m glad it worked out,” I say as we walk into the office. He closes the door behind us and waves me toward a long, red-leather sofa. I sit, and he sits down next to me, a couple of feet between us.

  “So, I’ll get right to it. I think you would be a wonderful ambassador for the orphanage. We need a strong female advocate for our fundraising. I’m hoping you’ll be willing to be that woman.”

  I’m more than surprised, and I’m sure it shows in my expression. “I’m honored that you would ask, Jacob. But why me?”

  “You have a big following. You’re smart and articulate. And on a more shallow note, you’re beautiful, and you catch people’s attention.”

  “Wow,” I say, more than surprised by the praise. “I’m not sure where you got your information—”

  “My own two eyes,” he says, something suddenly warm and sincere in his voice. He holds my gaze, and I don’t think I’m imagining the flirtation there.

  I shift on the sofa, crossing and uncrossing my legs. “I’m flattered, Jacob, but I’m sure there are plenty of other singers you could—”

  “And I want you.”

  The words hang there between us. Is it my imagination that there’s some other implication behind them? Do I venture out on that limb? Unless I do, there’s no way I can continue this conversation. “Jacob. I’m married.”

  He watches me for a moment as if trying to decide whether he’s going to join me on that limb. “Happily?”

  “Yes,” I say, unable to believe we’re having this conversation. “I’m not sure how we got here.”

  He smiles a half-smile and shrugs. “I make no secret of the fact that when I see something I want, I go for it.”

  “Something?”

  “In this case, a beautiful, talented woman.”

  “Who happens to be married.”

  “I know from firsthand experience those things don’t always work out the way we want them to.”

  “You’ve been married?” I ask, giving in to curiosity.

  “Way early on. Back before I got jaded. Caught her on the tour bus making out with my lead guitar player.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “It was at the time. That was before I made it. She was still trying to decide who to place her bet on.”

  “That’s jaded,” I say.

  “And also true, unfortunately.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Isn’t that how we’re purified? Trial by fire?”

  I smile. “Your reputation is anything but pure.”

  He laughs. “You’ve been asking?”

  “No,” I say firmly. “The word’s out anyway.”

  “I’m looking to be reformed.”

  “Did you just invite me here today for a flirt fest?”

  He laughs again. “No, I didn’t. I invited you here for the reason I gave you. Not to say I can’t be sidetracked.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Persistent too.”

  “I really am happily married, you know.”

  He studies me for a few seconds, as if trying to decide whether I’m telling the truth. “All right then, that being the case, can I talk you into joining me as an ambassador for the orphanage?”

  “May I ask you a question?”

  “Anything.”

  “What made you get involved there?”

  He glances off for a moment and then meets my gaze directly. “I know what it’s like to be an orphan. I didn’t end up in the foster system until I was twelve. My mom had been in and out of jail for drugs. The last time she got sent away, it was for twenty years. She hit a family in a minivan one night when she was stoned and killed two people. There was no one else to take care of me, so I ended up with foster families. As you can imagine, no one wants to adopt a rebellious, red-neck teenager.”

  I start to say something sympathetic, but he stops me with a raised hand. “It’s true. And that’s who I was. On a positive note, those years made for a hell of a lot of good material for country music.”

  “You’ve written some amazing songs.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. So back to how I got involved with the orphanage. I was touring around with some guys after some shows we did in Central America, and we literally stumbled across the place. It was this small, concrete-block building, immaculately clean and surrounded by children playing and working around the place. The people who worked there invited us in and showed us around. All the kids looked happy and well-cared for. When they told us they were all orphans, I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t anything like what I imagined an orphanage being like. We stayed for a couple of days and helped repair stuff, did some painting.

  I know this might sound cheesy considering how lucky I’ve been with this career, but nothing has ever filled the hole for me the way that place did. I felt like I could make a difference there, and, to be honest with you, the main reason I’m grateful for what I’ve accomplished here is that it gives me the ability to help on a large scale.”

  “Wow, Jacob,” I say. “That’s an amazing story. Not what I would have expected.”

  “The player reputation and all?”

  “Well, yes,” I admit.

  “I kind of like knowing I surprised you.”

  “It’s admirable, what you’re doing.”

  “Does that mean you’ll join up with me?”

  “It means I’ll think about it. And talk it over with Holden.”

  “Fair enough. I’m going down the week after the concert. I’d love it if you could come too and check it all out. I’ll be taking the jet down. Plenty of room.”

  “That’s a really nice offer.”

  “Then I hope you’ll take me up on it.”

  “Something tells me I should be a little afraid of you.”

  “If I had a woman like you, the last thing I would ever do is hurt you.”

  The words drop a blanket of heat over me, and I stand up quickly, saying, “I have to go. I’m going to be late for my appointment.”

  He stands too. “Sorry. I didn’t intend for that to happen. You’ll get back with me?”

  I nod. “I have your number from when you called me.”

  “Cool. Thanks for coming by, CeCe. I really hope to hear from you.”

  “Bye,” I say, leaving the office with quick strides even as I refuse to look back.

  ♪

  DR. MCCORMACK IS waiting when I arrive at her office. She waves me past the check-in area, closing the door and walking over to her desk.

  “How are you today?” she asks.

  “Good,” I say, still distracted by the meeti
ng with Jacob.

  “You look like you have a secret,” she says, sitting in her chair and leaning back to look at me.

  “No secrets,” I say.

  “Then tell me how you’re really doing.”

  “Feeling a little lost, I guess.”

  “How so?”

  “Like I was driving along for miles and miles, sure I knew where I was going, but someone changed the landscape, and now I don’t recognize anything at all.”

  “You’ve experienced a terrible trauma, CeCe. Your feelings are completely understandable.”

  “But I don’t want to feel like this.”

  “It’s a process. A journey. And unfortunately one you have to travel through to come out on the other side.”

  “I understand that with my logical mind. I just don’t want to do it.”

  “Because it’s painful. Of course we’re going to avoid pain. Part of being human.”

  “Being human sucks sometimes.”

  “It absolutely does. The only way to make it suck less is to throw yourself back into living. That’s what gets us through. Finding things that make us feel worthwhile.

  That’s when I decide to tell her about Jacob Bartley and the orphanage. She listens intently as I describe the place as he had described it to me.

  When I’m finished, she says, “That sounds like a perfect thing for you to be involved in right now. Are you considering it?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “What would hold you back?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m not sure what Holden will think. And Jacob Bartley is a pretty big flirt.”

  “I think you can handle that. Why would Holden not want you to go?”

  “Just a feeling.”

  “Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse not to get involved?”

  “Actually, I think I would like to be.”

  “Then be. This is the kind of thing you could throw yourself into for a while and do some healing.”

  “You think?”

  “I do. Why don’t you talk it over with Holden? I bet he’ll be for it.”

  And by the time I pull into our driveway a couple of hours later, I’ve convinced myself she’s right.