by Leah Atwood
“I hadn’t thought that far, to be honest. In a few weeks, he’ll be coming back for a few days. If you’d like, I’ll ask him what he thinks of having a dinner together.”
“That would be very nice. I’ll make us a big family dinner so we can get to know him.”
“Actually, having dinner at my house would probably be better. He’ll only have a short time with his daughter. The drive here and back would take too much time away.”
Her mom nodded with understanding and a hint of approval. “Let me know once you do and we’ll get everything arranged. Now I have some news as well. Your dad received a promotion.”
“That’s awesome,” Sophie exclaimed. “Congratulations.”
“I’m very proud of him, but it will mean a lot of changes.”
A pill of unease dissolved in her stomach. “What kind of changes?” she asked, her brows furrowed.
“We’ll be moving to Arkansas the first week of August.”
“What? You can’t just up and move. We’ve lived here our entire lives! What about Mia? You can’t rip her away from everything she knows in her senior year.” Her astonishment was real, her words in harsher tones than she meant.
“This is a shock, dear, but it’s for the best. Your dad wanted this position for some time and the promotion’s a real honor.”
“But all our family is here. How can you just leave them?” Too much change was coming at her at once.
“When you love someone, you support them.” Her words were pointed, and Sophie didn’t miss their meaning. “Arkansas isn’t so far that we can’t come back for frequent visits and we’ll make new friends.”
“And Mia?”
Her mother sighed, her eyes becoming etched with pain. “Mia could use a change. She’s not like you, Sophie—she hasn’t always known who she was, what she believed. She’s trying to discover who she is, and I’m afraid she’s looking in all the wrong places. There have been several times she’s come home smelling of tobacco and once even alcohol. We’ve grounded her, talked to her, prayed for her, but she’s lost right now.”
“I had no idea.” Sophie frowned. The news of her sister upset her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Just keep praying for her. Today she’s with a friend from church. Your dad and I are hoping this could be a turning point.”
“I hope so.”
Her mom stood and gathered the plates. “How late can you stay today?”
“I have nothing planned, so until whenever.”
“What do you say we have some retail therapy?”
“I could use new shoes. I’ll treat you to some Fro-Yo at one of those create-your-own sundae places afterwards.”
“Now we’re talking.” Her mom placed an arm around Sophie’s shoulder. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“I’m glad I confided. I feel like a weight’s been lifted from my shoulders.”
And at almost twenty-five years old, she just realized what a blessing her mom truly was.
Chapter 12
Breakfast away from his house had been a terrible idea. Bryce had eaten dinner the night before on the road and hadn’t thought to look at his food stock. Why hadn’t he told Fjolla, his housekeeper, to stock groceries like he normally would have? Regardless, his stomach was empty, and he wanted food, which meant leaving the house.
He’d almost made it without incident. Stopping by his favorite diner just a few minutes away, he’d placed an order to go—a slice of quarter-inch-thick ham between a halved biscuit. Knowing Caroline, she’d be on another health kick, and lunch would consist of little more than rabbit food, so he needed something to sustain him until later.
Bag in hand, he was walking out the door. He lived far enough from the hub of Nashville that the tourists seeking celebrity hotspots hardly ever came out this way. Plus, it was only six-thirty in the morning. A month of waking up early with Gracie had his body trained to a naturally early alarm. All things considered, he hadn’t expected to be flocked by a throng of fans, but just his luck this particular group had chosen the diner near his house to stop at on their way in to Nashville.
The group included teenagers. Loud, scantily-clad teenaged girls. He pinched the bridge of his nose, easing the onset of a headache. A twinge of guilt hit him—his fans were responsible for his success. Normally, he didn’t mind stopping to chat for a few minutes or sign autographs. It came with the territory and he’d met some cool people that way.
But not this early in the morning. And not when their primary method of communication was high-pitched squeals.
As graciously as possible, he’d excused himself after several minutes and left—quick, fast, and in a hurry. He drove around for a while after that, eating as he went. Eventually, he’d have to face an empty house, but last night had been too dreary. He should invite the guys over tonight for a barbeque. A nice slab of ribs sounded good. Man, he was still hungry.
He pulled into the parking lot of a local supermarket. This time he took precautions, throwing on a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap. Where he wasn’t expected to be seen he could blend in, but not here. With food on the brain, he went into the store and grabbed a buggy. Distracted, he wandered down the aisles, tossing some junk food and frozen dinners into the cart.
His phone rang, belting out the personalized tune he’d set for Sophie’s calls.
“Good morning sunshine,” he answered, propping the phone between his shoulder and ear as he pushed the cart along.
“You sound chipper. How long have you been awake?” Her voice was music to his ears, the tonic he needed for his morning.
“Long enough to be attacked by a gaggle of teen girls when I went to get breakfast.” His eyes rolled with the memory.
“You poor thing. How terrible.” Her light lilt told him he’d get no sympathy.
“I’m banning Gracie from all things pop culture. She’s never going to act and dress like that.”
Sophie laughed. “Says the over-protective dad of a five-year-old. Wait ten years then see what happens.”
“I’m going to create a bubble for her to live in.” He grabbed a case of soda from a shelf.
“Okay. I’d be interested in how that one turns out. How’s your morning minus the girls?”
“I drove around after I got breakfast, didn’t feel like being in the house yet. Now I’m in the grocery store.”
“You’re doing grocery shopping?” Her voice inflected, expressing her disbelief.
“Even famous people need to eat,” he replied in low tones, even though he was the only customer in the store for the time being.
“It’s not that—it’s that I can’t picture you cooking.” She giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“An image of you wearing an apron that said Kiss the Cook flickered through my mind.”
“Hmm. I might find one of those aprons and cook for you.”
“You wouldn’t need an apron to get a kiss,” she flirted.
Man, he loved when she was an open book like now. “Nice to know.”
“Can you really cook?”
“Not unless it’s prepared using a microwave or grill.”
“I knew you must have a flaw somewhere.”
“As if I haven’t shown you enough of them yet.” He was joking, but at times he still couldn’t believe she hadn’t gone running from him.
“Anyway, I was calling to tell you I talked to Gram. Tomorrow afternoon, Gracie and I are going miniature golfing.”
“Watch your shins or stand back. She doesn’t pay much attention to where she’s swinging.” The bruises were on his legs to prove it, but he wore them proudly.
“Thanks for the warning.”
“I’m about to check out. Can I call you back in five minutes?”
“I’m walking out the door for a tutoring session, then meeting Louella Anderson for lunch. Call me after?”
“I’m meeting with Caroline and then the guys. Likely, I’ll be tied up all afternoon, but I’ll call w
hen I’m done.”
“Have fun.”
“You too. I miss you,” he said, dropping his voice.
“I miss you too,” she replied, a wistfulness in her tone.
“I’ll talk to you tonight.” Disconnecting the call, he realized his headache had disappeared. Sophie was, indeed, good medicine for him.
He checked out and loaded the bags into the rear seat of his truck. When he returned to his house, Fjolla was there, cleaning the kitchen.
“Welcome home, Mr. Bryce.” She eyed the bags in his hand and clucked her tongue. “Why didn’t you ask me to stock you with groceries?”
“And rob myself of the joy known as grocery shopping?” He placed an affectionate kiss against the older lady’s cheek. Fjolla had come highly recommended from a peer and Bryce would never regret the day he’d hired her. Over the years, he’d been able to pry information from her and he’d learned she’d been a refugee from Kosovo, coming to America with her daughter and grandchildren after her town was taken over. She’d lived an amazing life and though she was an employee, he also looked at her as an honorary grandmother.
“You fool no one, sir. Your mind is elsewhere and didn’t think. Did you have a nice vacation?”
“Yes, ma’am. I wish I didn’t have to come back.”
“Then why did you? Life is too short.” She tsked.
“People are counting on me.”
“Some more than others.” She raised a single eyebrow, and he wondered if she somehow knew about Gracie. “Have you thought of shaving off that thing?” she said, pointing to his facial hair. “Such a handsome face shouldn’t be covered.”
“It’s not going anywhere.” He grinned, rubbing a hand over the stubble. “A certain lady happens to like it.”
Fjolla’s eyes lit up then fell. “You should settle down. Find a good woman.”
“Gram said the same thing.”
“She’s a wise woman.”
“She might come visit soon. I think the two of you would hit it off and become fast friends.”
“I’d be pleased to meet her, but don’t change the subject young man.”
“This girl is the one, Fjolla.” He leaned over, his elbows resting on the counter. “She’s special.”
“Oh, Mr. Bryce, don’t toy with an old woman’s heart.”
“I’m not. Her name is Sophie, and she is amazing.” He was completely comfortable telling his housekeeper about Sophie, strange as it may seem. A bond of trust already existed between them and he knew the information wouldn’t leave the room. Why hadn’t he done so before?
On the precipice of change, awareness dawned on him. In the midst of crisis, God had given him a deeper support system all along, but he’s been too blinded to see it. Fjolla, Caroline, the guys—all of them would be there for him. Loyal to him, and he to them, each had been with him almost every step of his success. He’d wasted the last year bottling everything inside of him when he hadn’t had to walk alone.
Sophie had opened his eyes. Knowing she was beside him, even figuratively, was making him a better person and more open to accepting help.
“I have a daughter.” He watched her face closely for a reaction.
A placid smile spread her lips. “I already knew.”
“How?” Fear and surprise passed through him. He’d been so careful. Who else knew?
“Voices do travel, Mr. Bryce. Your entire countenance changes when you talk to her. All those stress lines around your eyes ease away and you smile. Not the fake smile you put on for an audience, but a genuine I’m happy grin.”
“Want to see her picture?”
“You already know the answer.”
He slid a hand into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. Gracie’s Easter picture was inside and he pulled it out, handing the print over to Fjolla. “This is Gracie. She turned five last February.”
“You have a beautiful daughter. And this Sophie- she is Gracie’s mother?”
“Thanks and no, Sophie is not Gracie’s mom. Shelley, Gracie’s mom, passed away last year. I didn’t know about my daughter until then.” He frowned.
Fjolla looked at him with understanding. “And you find yourself caught between two worlds?”
“I was. Everything is starting to come into perspective.” More so than he cared to reveal at this time. He wanted to speak with Sophie, tell her about his internal conclusions.
“Time and patience, son.” She patted his shoulder. “You can’t live in two worlds, a hard lesson to learn when I had to leave my country. The best thing to do is find a way to blend them into a new life.”
“I should give you a raise.”
“We both know you already pay me more than a fair rate. If you want to do anything, settle down once and for all, be done sowing your oats.” She swatted him with the cleaning rag in her hand. “Now get out of my way so I can do my job.”
I’m well on my way, he thought while he put away his groceries. His days of running wild were well behind him. He cringed, grasping for the first time how much Fjolla knew of those days. He’d never thought about it, but now it embarrassed him. How many times had she witnessed one of his one-night stands sneak out in the morning as he stumbled down the stairs with a hangover? Or cleaned up after he’d hosted a party that got out of control.
Too many, he was sure.
A lurking shame surfaced at thoughts of his old life. There was a verse he’d memorized during his first days of being a Christian, which he held close to his heart for times like these. I’m a new creature in Christ. The old one no longer exists. He checked the time flashing from the microwave. An hour until he had to leave. He knew what he needed—he took the steps two at a time then went to his room and pulled his Bible from the unpacked bag. Crossing the room, he stopped to unlock the french doors leading to the balcony outside his room. He sat down and spent the next hour in quiet time with God.
Refreshed, he knew he’d need the strength for the afternoon to come. He only prayed his friends would understand what he was going to tell them.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Caroline greeted him when he walked through the glass doors leading to her office. She’d cut her hair while he’d been gone, but otherwise she was Caroline. She wore a fitted white silk blouse tucked into a pinstripe skirt. Five-inch-tall navy heels put her almost at an even height with him. It was her power outfit. When she had no meetings scheduled, she typically wore jeans and a T-shirt. The luxury of being her own boss, she’d say.
“Are you calling me a rodent?” He raised his eyebrows to a high arch.
Caroline huffed. “Just once, I’m going to stay mad at you.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve been hearing that for six years now.”
“Your luck’s bound to run out eventually.” She stuck her head out the door, speaking to her assistant. “Madison, hold all calls for the next hour.”
“Sit,” she bossed, closing the door. She walked around her desk, taking a seat in the expensive chair. Her eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms, pressing them against the desk. “Start talking. What’s going on?”
Bryce scowled. Caroline had no intention of letting him off the hook or going easy on him. He took a deep breath, counting to ten before he exhaled. For the second time that day, he withdrew Gracie’s picture from his wallet. Her big blue eyes stared back at him and a lump formed in this throat. Man, he missed her. With the tips of his fingers, he slid Gracie’s picture over the shiny gloss of the desktop.
Caroline’s face twisted as she examined the photo, her eyes filling with questions. “Who is this?”
“My daughter.”
“Your daughter?” she squeaked. “How, what, why? I don’t get it.”
“I didn’t know about her until last year.”
“That’s what your emergency trip to Virginia was about?”
“Yes.” He pinched his eyes shut, wondering for the umpteenth time when, or if, he’d ever be able to think of that time without having the sensation of fresh salt poured into t
he wound.
Shock fading, she calmed down. “What happened?” she pressed gently, not as his manager, but as his friend.
He told the story again, having to pause several times. When he finished, Caroline was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
“Is that what sent you out of control for a month after?” she asked.
“Shelly’s death, a daughter I didn’t know about, it all pushed me over the edge.”
“I can’t say that I blame you. Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I didn’t know how. I was afraid the press would find out. I realized what a screw-up I’d become. Take your pick.”
“We would have understood, Bryce. We could have helped you.”
“Now I know that, but I wasn’t thinking straight.” His shoulders sagged. “I did—am,” he corrected, “doing my best. But it’s not enough. I can’t find a balance.”
“You and Adam should have a sit down. He could give you advice.”
“It’s not the same, Caroline. Adam is married and his wife is there to take care of Shannon.”
Caroline rubbed her chin, pondering the information. “Where is Gracie now?”
“With my grandparents. My aunt and uncle help out, but Gramps and Gram are her main caregivers.”
“Where does that leave you?” she asked sympathetically.
“That, my friend, is the million dollar question. I can’t keep this up.” His hand raked his hair. “I don’t want her away from me all the time. I should be the one raising her.”
“I see.”
“Do you, Caroline? There isn’t a black and white answer. All this,” he paused to wave around the room, “doesn’t lend itself to raising a child. I’m never home and it’s not like I can bring her to work.” His voice rose, his frustration expelling itself. “And I can’t up and walk away from my career. People are counting on me, you included.”
Caroline stood and for a long time, looked out the window overlooking the city. When she turned around, her eyes were red around the rims. Coming out from behind the desk, she took a seat in an empty chair beside him.
“What I have to say never leaves this this room.” Her words were barely audible and her chest trembled. In all these years, he’d never seen Caroline lose her composure.
