The last revelation clearly touched Justin. He took a deep breath before smiling at her warmly. “Becca would have appreciated the gesture. And so do I.”
“Ditto,” Brian said softly.
Hallie cast Justin a curious glance. “I still don’t understand how you broke your leg. Did that happen in your brawl with this Dominic person?”
“Naw. I broke it when I dropped from the side of the overpass.”
Hallie’s eyes grew round. “Excuse me?”
Tess shivered at the memory of watching Justin’s hands disappear as he fell.
“I got pushed off the overpass. I held on for a while, but—”
“The driver of an eighteen-wheeler saw Justin’s predicament,” Brian explained when Hallie furrowed her brow. “The trucker stopped his truck under the overpass, significantly cutting the distance Justin fell when his hands slipped.”
“It was still a rough landing. That’s how I broke my leg.” Justin’s face hardened, and he met Tess’s gaze. “What really hurt was knowing that I’d let you down . . . again. I promised to take care of you, and I dropped the ball. My failure almost cost you your life.”
Tess crossed the room and knelt in front of him. “That’s where you’re wrong. You were with me. During our time together, you helped me find that part of myself that I thought had died. You’ve done more than save my life. You’ve given me the courage and strength to fight for myself.” She stroked his cheek and saw the impact of her words written in the moisture in his eyes. “You’ve made a difference, Justin. You’ve succeeded in changing my life and winning my heart.”
Justin was silent for a moment, absorbing what she’d said. Then he narrowed his eyes with a mischievous grin. “She don’t need no stinkin’ bodyguard. My lady can take care of herself.”
“Darn right, she can,” Brian said.
“But I still need you,” Tess continued. “You’re very much a part of the woman I’ve become. I love you, Justin.”
He sobered quickly and met her gaze with a blue fire in his eyes.
She squeezed his hand. “I couldn’t say the words before, even though I felt them deeply. When I gave my love to you, I wanted it to be a gift free of encumbrances and not tarnished by the past. I can do that now. I can give you my whole heart and a perfect love.”
With a hungry groan, he tugged her close and captured her lips with his. “I love you, Tess,” he murmured between kisses.
“You hurry up and get out of this hospital, Justin Boyd,” she whispered back. “Nights are awfully lonely without you. Besides, you have some unfinished business to attend to.” At his quizzical look, Tess grinned. “Nashville is waiting for you.”
Justin’s features softened, and he ducked his head. “I don’t know if Nashville is where I belong. I’ve realized I can reach people and make a difference with my music anywhere. I think Becca just wanted me to use my gift in a way that made me happy. Helping people makes me happy. My music is just a tool I use.”
“Nothing says you have to give up Nashville in order to help people.” Brian cleared his throat. “Think of the platform you’d have as a musical celebrity, the number of people you could reach with your message if your name is on the Billboard hit list.”
“He’s right, you know,” Hallie said. “The two goals are not mutually exclusive. The one could serve the other. And think of the good work you could do with all the money you’ll make.”
Justin frowned. “Money was never what it was about for me. You know that.”
Brian shrugged. “But there will be money, and you can use it to help people, if you hit the big time.”
“When he hits the big time, you mean,” Tess corrected and smiled at Justin. “He’ll take Nashville by storm. I’m sure of it.”
A slow, lazy grin split Justin’s face, reminding Tess of the blue-jean-clad cowboy she’d met on a rainy Texas highway only a few weeks before. “Fine. I’ll go to Nashville, but only if you go with me.”
Tess kissed him softly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
EPILOGUE
Justin picked up his guitar and headed toward the waiting area in the lobby of the record producer’s office. He’d bought a new guitar but still preferred the one Brian had given him for sentimental reasons. Over the months they’d been in Nashville, Brian’s old guitar had gone with Justin to every audition.
“Well?” Tess asked, peering up from the magazine in her lap.
He frowned and shook his head.
Tess sighed. “Don’t get discouraged. There are other producers in this town.”
He gave her a wry smile. “I’m not discouraged. I’m hungry. How about lunch?”
“Yum.” Sliding her arm around his waist, she walked with him toward the elevator.
“Mr. Boyd? Wait!”
With a glance over his shoulder, Justin saw the producer’s secretary wave and motion him back to her desk.
“Mr. Turner wants to speak to you. He’s on his way out. Can you wait?”
Justin exchanged inquisitive looks with Tess and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
When the door behind the secretary’s desk opened, a tall, silver-haired man strode out. “Justin Boyd?”
The man looked vaguely familiar, and anticipation mingled with curiosity inside Justin, starting a flutter in his gut. “Yes, sir. That’s me.”
He stepped forward and offered the man his hand to shake.
The man continued eyeing him, then, as if satisfied by what he saw, he motioned for Justin and Tess to follow him into the office.
Once they’d sat on a long leather couch, Mr. Turner took a picture down from his bookshelf and passed it to Justin. “I don’t know if you remember my daughter, but you made quite an impression on her.”
Justin looked at the picture. Turner’s daughter couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven years old. Red hair, freckles, and a bright grin.
“You made an impression on both of us really,” Turner said. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. If I’d realized sooner who you were, I’d have had my secretary send you right in.”
Justin handed Turner the photograph. “I’m sorry, but I don’t recall meeting your daughter. When would that have happened?”
“Several months ago in a hospital in Memphis. You played and sang for her. She didn’t look the same then, though. She was in the final stages of leukemia at the time.” Turner’s face grew sad.
Recognition dawned on Justin. “I remember her now. She has such a pretty smile. I admired her ability to smile in the face of her illness.” Justin hesitated. “How . . . is she?”
Turner drew a slow breath. “She died about a month ago.”
Justin exchanged a quick glance with Tess. “I’m sorry.”
“But she never forgot what you did out of the goodness of your heart to brighten her last days. Most people fear dying patients and avoid them like the plague.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
“I want to repay your kindness. Not only did you do something kind for my little girl, but I think you’ve got real talent, and I like your enthusiasm. If you want to give it a shot, what do you say we reserve some studio time and see what develops?”
Gratitude, shock and excitement rendered Justin mute. Tess beamed at him like the lights of the Opry stage.
“He says yes!” Tess answered for him.
“Then you have a deal, son.” Mr. Turner stuck out his hand and pumped Justin’s in a hearty shake. “Welcome to the Sunshine label!”
***
TWO YEARS LATER
Tess sat in an audience full of country music stars and fans, watching with a heart full of pride as her husband performed “Little Bird” for the crowd. A few weeks before, the song he’d written for her had made it to number one on the country charts. They’d celebrated, first with the record company executives and honored guests then later, privately, with his family.
One person had been conspicuously missing from the celebration. Tess had seen the reg
ret of Rebecca’s absence in Justin’s eyes. That night he’d decided to donate a large percentage of his profits from his debut CD to the battered women’s shelter fund set up in Rebecca’s name. It was Justin’s way of sharing his success with his sister.
Now, dressed in his black Nero-style tuxedo and black cowboy hat, he held the audience enthralled as he sang. “Beautiful little bird, now that you’re free. Say that you will fly away with me.”
His eyes met Tess’s as the last chorus faded and the crowd cheered and applauded. She blew him a kiss, and he headed offstage as Andy Griggs and Jo Dee Messina came to the microphone with an envelope to announce the next award category at the annual Country Music Association awards.
Andy and Jo Dee read the list of names for Best New Male Artist. The list included Justin Boyd.
Tess’s heart pounded. As she waited nervously for Jo Dee to rip open the envelope and announce the winner, she slipped a hand over her lower abdomen. Even if Justin didn’t win, he’d have another surprise when they got home. She would tell him tonight what her doctor confirmed earlier that morning. Justin was a daddy.
Her grin grew broader, thinking of the other new father in the family. Hallie and Brian had adopted a three-month-old girl the month before, and baby Kate had turned her attorney father into mush. Hallie called every day, giggling over the newest way Kate had wrapped Brian around her chubby finger.
Finally, Jo Dee finished fumbling with the envelope, glanced at Andy Griggs with a grin and read, “The winner is Justin Boyd!”
The music from the speakers and the roar of the crowd blurred as Tess shot to her feet along with the record company people around her. She clamped a hand over her mouth in joyful surprise.
Justin strutted back out onstage, obviously overwhelmed himself, and took the small gold statue Andy Griggs handed him. The audience sat back down as Justin stepped up to the microphone to make his acceptance speech.
“Holy cow!” he said breathlessly as he stared at the award in shock. “This is really the icing on the cake for me. It’s been such an incredible year. I have to thank Bud Turner for giving me my big break, my band for all their hard work, and the fans who supported me and have been so great.”
A cheer rang from the balcony as the fans whooped their support.
Justin took a deep breath and shook his head in disbelief. Tess knew her husband well enough to detect the subtle change in his demeanor, even if no one else in the audience did.
“I want to dedicate this award to someone who couldn’t be here tonight,” Justin continued. “She taught me to play the guitar when I was ten. She inspired me and encouraged me . . .”
Tess’s eyes filled with tears when she heard the emotion in Justin’s voice. He tipped his head back and looked toward the lights above him.
“This one’s for you, Becca.” His voice cracked as he held up the award. “I did it.”
Swiping at his cheek, he dropped his gaze to the audience again. The crowd had grown reverently quiet. His blue eyes connected with Tess’s, and she held her breath.
“Last, but far from least, I want to thank my beautiful wife for all her love and support. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t thank God for bringing you into my life. Despite all that we went through together, I’d do it all again for the chance to be with you.”
Tess knew the television camera had swung to focus on her, but her gaze stayed on Justin. Tears rolled down her cheeks, unchecked. Let America see her cry. They were tears of joy, tears of affection for the raven-haired cowboy who’d stolen her heart and showed her the real meaning of love and happiness.
“Tess,” Justin said from the stage, “all of this would mean nothing without you. You are my dream come true.”
Author’s Note
This novel is fiction. Unfortunately, the problem of domestic violence is all too real. For more information or help with an abusive relationship, call the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE. A portion of the sales of this book are being donated to help battered women make a new start.
AUTHOR BIO
Award winning author Beth Cornelison received her bachelor's degree in Public Relations from the University of Georgia. After working in public relations for about a year, she moved with her husband to Louisiana, where she decided to pursue her love of writing fiction. Since that time, she has won numerous honors for her work including a final in the Rita contest sponsored by the Romance Writers of America. She made her first sale to Silhouette Intimate Moments in June 2004 and has gone on to sell many more books to Harlequin/ Silhouette. She has also published with Five Star Expressions, Samhain Publishing, and Sourcebooks.
Beth has presented workshops across the country to numerous chapter meetings, conferences, online classes and book clubs. Beth Cornelison lives in Louisiana with her husband, one son and a fluctuating number of cats who think they are people.
Excerpt from TRUST IN ME by Beth Cornelison,
Amazon Kindle Bestseller!
CHAPTER ONE
"That's it! I quit!"
Kevin Fuller looked up from the work schedule he labored over, trying to stretch three employees' hours to cover all the shifts, and frowned at the woman who'd stormed into the manager's office.
"No," he groaned. "Don't do this to me, Lydia. I need you. We're shorthanded as it is."
"Then get rid of that...that walking hormone! That teenage terror! Either Ray goes or I do." Lydia Banks, the heavy-set woman who worked the cash register for Lowery Hardware and Farm Supply, pursed her bright coral lips and propped a hand on her ample hip. "I'm tired of puttin' up with his gutter mouth and his juvenile behavior."
Aren't we all?
Tunneling his fingers through his already well-mussed hair, Kevin expelled a frustrated sigh. "You know I can't fire Ray. His father owns the store. In theory, Ray's in training to run the place in a few years."
Lydia snorted. "All the more reason to get the hell out of Dodge before it's too late. Can you imagine working for Ray?"
The brunette eased the neck straps of her store apron over her permed and highly sprayed hairdo then dropped the uniform in Kevin's lap.
"Lydia," Kevin said in the tone that had soothed the woman's ruffled feathers numerous times in the past. "Don't go. I'll talk to Ray, and I'll talk to Mr. Lowery about Ray. Again. I know you've been working long hours lately. We all have. I've got help wanted ads up all over town and at the University. Surely someone will answer the ad soon, and you won't have to put in so much overtime. Bear with me a little longer. Please."
"Sugar, it ain't you. It ain't the hours. God knows I can use the money from the overtime. It's that redneck moron who thinks jokes about animal abuse and using the bathroom are funny!" A pink flush stained Lydia's cheeks as she ranted, testifying to her ire. "Even my six-year-old has moved beyond Ray's potty humor, and there sure as shootin' ain't nothing funny about hurting dogs."
Kevin raised his hands in surrender. "I know. I know. He's just pushing your buttons, Lyd. Just...ignore him. And I'll try to arrange the schedule so you don't work with him any more than necessary."
Lydia huffed. "Oh...all right."
Kevin glanced at the meager work schedule, wondering how he was supposed to keep his promise, wondering how the store could operate if he didn't hire some more help soon. Ray's lewd jokes and childish harassment had managed to run off three capable cashiers in the last five months. And apparently every unemployed resident of the small South Carolina town had heard what it was like to work with Ray, because no one had applied for the opening at the family-owned hardware store in several weeks. Even if he did hire more help, how did he convince them to stay?
"Go on and knock off for the night, Lyd. I'll close up."
With a dramatic sigh and a nod, Lydia snatched her oversized purse from a cluttered shelf. As she disappeared from the office, she muttered something about what she'd do to Ray if she were his father, something that sounded frighteningly painful. A moment later the tinkle of the b
ell over the front door signaled her departure.
Kevin stood and stretched his back, mentally bracing himself to confront Ray about his off-putting behavior. Confrontations ranked somewhere below a root canal as far as Kevin was concerned, but thanks to Ray, dealing with disgruntled employees was an increasingly common part of managing Lowery's Hardware.
He found Ray smoking a cigarette on the loading dock at the back of the store. The acrid smell of smoke clashed with the fresher summertime scents of cut grass and wild honeysuckle that perfumed the evening air. One more way Ray managed to ruin a good thing.
With his meaty shoulder propped against the side of a delivery truck and his unkempt black hair drooping negligently in his eyes, Ray mirrored the brash and irresponsible attitude that gave Kevin so much trouble. The burly teenager, who looked far older than his seventeen years because of his size, took a slow drag of his cigarette and glanced at Kevin with disinterest. The shipment from the tractor supply company still hadn't been unloaded from the truck.
Kevin sucked in a deep breath of the humid summer air, praying for patience, and stepped out on the landing of the truck dock. "I'd have thought you'd have had this truck emptied hours ago. What's going on, Ray?"
The teen blew a stream of smoke toward Kevin and gave him a smirk. "I'm on break. Too damn hot to be workin'. If I don't finish today, it'll still be here tomorrow."
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