You, Me and a Palm Tree

by Inglath Cooper

  ♪

  Holden

  I’VE SPENT MOST of the day writing in my office downstairs. My heart hasn’t been in it for a while, but when I sat down with my guitar after CeCe left the house this morning, something inside me needed release. And the words and chords began to flow.

  It’s always been like that for me. Writing is catharsis. It’s as if whatever hurt, pain, disappointment I’m struggling with on the inside can only find its way out on the backs of those words.

  I write two complete songs. One that’s just a feel good tune – “You, Me and a Palm Tree” – and another that gets to the heart of what we’ve been going through.

  When CeCe walks through the door just before five o’clock, I’m just finishing up the last one. She comes into the office with Hank Junior and Patsy at her heels.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey,” she says, walking into my arms and wrapping herself around me.

  “How was your day?” I ask, kissing the top of her hair and breathing in its familiar scent.

  “Interesting. How was yours?”

  “Productive, actually. I wrote two songs.”

  She pulls back to look at me, surprise on her face. “That’s amazing. Can I hear them?”

  “Now?”

  She nods. “Sure.”

  I pick up my guitar, sit in what I’ve designated as my writing chair and strum out the chords of the first one to refresh my memory. CeCe sits on the couch across from me, Hank Junior and Patsy hopping up to sit next to her. She puts her arms around each of them as I begin to sing the first song, a simple tune about getting away and remembering love in its first stages.

  CeCe smiles when I’m done. “People will like that, Holden. It’s a getaway song.”

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Can I hear the other one?”

  “Sure.” I close my eyes and settle on the words, feeling their power, recognizing their truth. But it’s not only my truth. It’s CeCe’s as well. When I open my eyes at the end of the song, I see the tears streaming down my wife’s face, and my heart breaks a little.

  I put down the guitar, walk over to the couch and drop onto my knees in front of her. “I’m sorry,” I say.

  She reaches out to run her hand through my hair. “Don’t be. It’s beautiful.”

  “Will it hurt every time you sing it though?”

  “At first. But doesn’t pain have to come before the healing?”

  “I don’t want you to be in pain.”

  “I don’t want you to be either. But I know from this song that you are. It’s okay to talk to me about it,” she says.

  “I don’t want to add to yours.”

  “Sharing it with me isn’t adding to it. I think it actually makes it a little easier for both of us to bear.” She leans forward and wraps her arms around me, putting her head on my shoulder.

  “Tell me about your day,” I say.

  “I went to the fitting with Mama and Aunt Vera. She looks beautiful in the dress. I can’t wait for Case to see her.”

  “Did you have the appointment with Dr. McCormack?”

  “I did. Before that, I actually met with Jacob Bartley.”

  At the name, I lean back a little, surprised. “Really? Why?”

  “He called as I was leaving the fitting and asked if I could come by the studio. So I did.”

  “What did he want?” I ask, unable to deny the edge in my voice.

  She meets my gaze as if she wants me to know she has nothing to hide and says, “He’s asked me to be the other ambassador for the orphanage in Belize. He and a couple of the major donors are going there a week after the fundraiser concert.”

  “Oh,” I say, completely unsure how to process this.

  “I’d like to go,” she says. “Would you be willing to come too?”

  I try to keep my expression neutral when I answer, “That’s kind of out of the blue, don’t you think?”

  CeCe shrugs. “I don’t know. Is it?”

  “What’s involved in this ambassadorship?”

  “Speaking to potential donors. Telling the orphanage’s story to the media and other influential audiences.”

  “With Bartley?”

  “Well, yes. That’s all it would be.”

  I stand up and move across the room, putting my guitar back on its stand. “For you, maybe.”

  “Maybe? Holden. Are you serious?”

  I draw in a deep breath, release it out slowly in an effort to resist coming across as a complete jerk. “I’m a guy. It didn’t take much insight to see he has a thing for you.”

  “What if he does?” she asks. “Do you not trust me to handle it?”

  “It’s not a matter of trust.”

  “How can it not be?”

  “Are you saying if the situation were reversed, you would be okay with it?”

  “I’m saying I trust you.”

  “And I trust you.”

  “Then why is there a problem?”

  I walk over to the window, fold my arms across my chest and stare out at the front yard of our house.

  “Will you at least think about going?” she asks.

  I don’t know what else to say. “I’ll think about it.”

  ♪

  CeCe

  WATCHING MAMA WALK down the aisle on Saturday afternoon is a moment I will never forget. My whole life I have wanted her to have the happiness I’ve always known she deserves. She worked hard when I was growing up to make sure I had the things she wanted me to have, life luxuries like braces, that weren’t a given in our household.

  Her generosity and commitment to raising me the best she could made me forever determined to pay her back in whatever ways I could.

  While I’m not directly responsible for her happiness today, I am thrilled that my life here allowed her to meet a man like Case, a man who adores her and sees her as special as I do.

  I’m now standing at the front of the church with Aunt Vera next to me, Case on the other side, staring at the church doorway as if he cannot wait for Mama to appear.

  When she does, we both gasp a little. Holden is giving her away. He looks unbelievably handsome in a black tuxedo.

  Mama’s dress is off-white and looks as if it was absolutely made for her. The sleeves are fitted and hit just above her wrists. The waist is narrow, and her figure would be enviable to a twenty year old. The top is simple but the skirt flows out and stops at her ankles. Her hair is pulled back into a simple knot at the nape of her neck. Her makeup is perfect, lipstick a soft shade of pink. I am almost unbearably proud of her.

  I glance at Case. The look on his face tells me Mama has made a wise choice. Life is so full of ups and downs, peaks and valleys. Today is one of those days that make living through the valleys worthwhile.

  ♪

  THE RECEPTION IS at Case’s house. His band is playing out back, white tents lining the lawn under which enormous spreads of food make a mouthwatering display.

  Mama and Case are at the head of the receiving line, and the guests file through to express their best wishes. Holden and Aunt Vera and I are at the end, and I really have no idea how they managed to organize everything so quickly and so well. Most of the people coming through I know, and I’m thankful that most choose not to comment on the tragedy with Charlotte Gearly. This isn’t a night when I want to remember any of that.

  Thomas and Lila arrive with Lexie. I lean down and give the little girl a fierce hug. She is so precious, and it always makes me feel full with happiness to see how crazy Thomas and Lila are about her.

  “Hi, honey,” Lila says, stepping forward to give me a warm hug.

  “Hey, Lila,” I say. “I’m so happy you’re here. How are you?”

  “Doing great,” she says. “Thankful. How are you?”

  “Better,” I say, even as I’m not sure it’s completely true.

  “You look beautiful,” she says. “And your mom. What a beautiful bride she is.”

  “I know. I’m so proud of her.�
�

  Thomas steps in and picks me up for one of his custom bear hugs. “Hey, gorgeous.”

  “Hey, you. You look presentable,” I add, smoothing my hand across the lapel of his dark suit.

  “He cleans up well, doesn’t he?” Lila says with a smile.

  Thomas leans over and whispers something in Lila’s ear, which immediately causes her to blush. She swats him playfully.

  “We better move on before we get in trouble with the groom,” Thomas says. “See you at the table?”

  “Make him behave, Lila,” I say.

  She shakes her head as if she knows better than to try.

  Still smiling, I turn back to the line to see Jacob Bartley approaching. He smiles at the sight of me. I feel Holden’s awareness of him in the stiffening of his shoulders.

  A beautiful young woman has her hand wrapped through Jacob’s arm in a proprietary gesture that makes it clear she considers him hers.

  “Hello,” Jacob says in his familiar country voice.

  “Hi,” I say, with some uncertainty, not having realized he would be invited to the wedding. But then again he and Case know each other, so I’m not sure I should be surprised.

  Holden still hasn’t said anything when Jacob looks to the woman on his arm and says, “Giselle Thompson. Holden and CeCe Ashford.”

  “Nice to meet you, Giselle,” I say.

  She smiles at me and says, “You too.”

  Holden says, “Pretty name, Giselle. Nice to meet you.”

  She meets his gaze directly and says, “It’s nice to meet you, Holden. I love your music.”

  “Thank you,” he says, the smile on his face the same one that makes girls on the front row of our concerts scream and throw lacy bras drenched in their perfume at him.

  I slip my hand into his and look at Jacob. “We hope to have the chance to talk to you again in a bit.”

  “Of course,” he says.

  Giselle throws us both a smile as they walk on, and it’s not my imagination that it lingers on Holden.

  “Is this what we’re doing now?” I ask once they’re out of earshot, taking my hand from his.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Playing games.”

  He hesitates, as if he’s considering denying it. But we respect each other more than that, and he says, “I’m sorry. It was a jerk thing to do. I guess I just wanted to give Bartley a taste of his own medicine.”

  “Or maybe you just wanted to flirt with Giselle.”

  He turns to me then, slipping his arms around my waist and giving me a sound kiss of apology. “Baby, I don’t want any woman but you.”

  “And I don’t want any guy but you. Are you sure you believe that?”

  He nods, leaning down to kiss me with a soft heat. He pulls back and says, “Can you forgive me for being such an ass?”

  “You’re my ass,” I say, smiling a little.

  He laughs, and says, “As long as I’m yours, I don’t mind being one.”

  And we turn to greet the next guests in line.

  ♪

  CeCe

  CASE PULLS ME aside, right before it’s time to cut the cake later on in the night.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind me stealing your mama away for ten days?” he asks with a hint of apology.

  “Of course not,” I say. “She’s so excited, but she’s dying to know where you’re taking her.”

  “I know. Think I should tell her?”

  “It’ll be a wonderful surprise. She’s never been to the Caribbean. St. Barts is supposed to be amazing.”

  “I’m hoping she loves it.”

  “If she’s with you, she will,” I say.

  “CeCe,” he says quietly. “I’d like to promise you something.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “I know I’ve earned myself something of a reputation over the years, and considering the way you and I first met, I’m surprised you’d let me anywhere near your mama. But I want you to know that I’ll never hurt her. I can’t believe I got lucky enough to find someone like her. I’ll never take that for granted.”

  I step forward and put my arms around his neck, giving him a long hug. “I already know that. You two have found something special. And I think you’re both going to protect that.”

  “Thank you for trusting me with her,” he says.

  “Thank you for loving her,” I say.

  Just as I step back, Jacob Bartley walks up and claps Case on the shoulder.

  “Congratulations, Case. I think you hit the jackpot.”

  “Got that right,” Case says, warmly shaking hands with Jacob. “Glad you could come.”

  “Thanks for the invite. What a great evening.”

  A woman in a red silk dress speaks to Case, and he turns to answer her, leaving Jacob and me standing side by side.

  “Having fun?” I ask, feeling more than a little awkward.

  “Yeah,” he says. “Beautiful wedding. Great food. Incredible music.”

  “Where’s Giselle?”

  “Chatting up a record producer, I believe. She’s working on her career.”

  “She’s really pretty.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Are you two a thing?” I ask, and then wonder why I did.

  “That depends,” he says.

  “On what?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize I’ve ventured into risky territory.

  He smiles the smile that has melted countless female country music lover’s hearts. “Do you really want me to say it?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “Jacob, you have to stop.”

  “Can I help it if I find you enchanting?”

  “That’s not a word I would imagine you using.”

  “It’s not a word I’ve ever found applicable to anyone in my life before.”

  “I’m not in your life.”

  “But you could be.”

  “I think you’re just entertaining yourself with me. Are you bored?”

  “No. Right now, I’m anything but bored.”

  “And I’m married. Do I need to keep reminding you of that?”

  “I’d like to think I could forget it, but sadly, no.”

  “If Holden sees you over here chatting me up, he might take a swing at you.”

  Jacob laughs a soft laugh. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Do you not think I could handle him?”

  “He’s got a good right hook.”

  “So I shouldn’t test it, you think?”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  “He’s possessive then?”

  “He’s my husband.”

  “And did you mention the trip to Belize?”

  “I did.”

  He leans in close to my ear and says, “And?”

  I lean away, start to make light of Holden’s negative response, but something stops me. Maybe the fact that I’ve decided I really would like to go. Not because Jacob Bartley thinks he’s infatuated with me, but for the reasons Dr. McCormack suggested. Because I feel the need to put myself into something larger than my own pain. With the hope that in doing so, I might start to feel hopeful about life again.

  Just then, Jacob stumbles backward, barely stopping himself from hitting the floor. And then I realize it’s because Holden has charged him like a bull defending his pasture from a stray opponent.

  I scream. “Holden! Stop! What are you doing?”

  But it’s as if he doesn’t hear me. He’s pushing Jacob again, and they’re rolling around on the floor like fourth graders fighting at recess. People are gathering around. Women gasp when they recognize Holden and Jacob.

  Holden takes a swing. Jacob swears as Holden’s fist connects with his jaw. I grab Holden’s shoulders, trying to pull him off Jacob, but it’s like trying to move a statue.

  “What the hell?”

  I recognize Thomas’s voice and am so happy to hear it, I nearly sob. “Thomas! Make them stop!”

  “Damn, boys, what
the heck?” Thomas grabs each of them by the shoulder, holding them apart long enough to bark some sense at them. “Have you two lost your minds?”

  “Stay out of it, Thomas,” Holden says.

  “And let you both end up in jail? I don’t think so.”

  “What’s wrong, Ashford?” Jacob taunts. “Can’t handle a little healthy competition?”

  “Your ego has clearly taken your brain hostage,” Holden snaps, the last word slurring a bit at the edges. It’s then that I realize he’s had a good bit to drink. “What do you not understand about the word married?”

  “I understand more about the word insecure.”

  “You son of a bitch!” Holden goes for him again, but Thomas makes a wall of himself between them, holding them apart.

  “You two are making a right dumbass spectacle of yourselves,” Thomas says. “Unless you want to see your twin mugshots on the front page of tomorrow’s Tennessean, I suggest you each head to your corner of the ring.”

  Jacob wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, giving Holden a glowering look. “Yeah, and anyway, I need to find my date.”

  “I think you should have looked for her before you decided to come out here and hit on my wife.”

  Jacob shakes his head, looking at me and saying, “Talk later, CeCe?”

  “Jacob, just go,” I say, feeling the coiled tension in Holden and realizing he’s ready to go after him again.

  Jacob walks to the French doors that lead outside where most of the guests are. Thomas raises a hand at the few people milling around, looking shell-shocked and says, “Show’s over, folks. Y’all join the party.”

  The spectators quickly leave then until it’s just Holden, Thomas and me standing there.

  “Brother,” Thomas says, looking at Holden with a raised eyebrow. “What gives?”

  Holden refuses to look at me, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair.

  “CeCe?” Thomas directs to me.

  “A misunderstanding,” I say.

  It’s then that Holden does look at me, and I see that he is angry and more than a little drunk. “Misunderstanding?” he repeats. “What did I misunderstand? Was he or was he not all over you, CeCe?”

  “No, he wasn’t. We were just talking.”

  “Bullshit,” Holden says, surprising me with the fierceness with which he says it.