Any Time You Need Me

by Farrah Rochon

  Actually, that was probably a good thing. After the hurting she’d put on her credit cards this past year, she didn’t need to use them anyway. She found just enough quarters in her purse to put the last load of clothes in the dryer.

  Of course, Deanna’s washing machine would break the day after Paul set out on a week-long haul up to Minneapolis. Aubrey could have washed the clothes here and brought them back home to dry, but her sister’s book club was meeting there tonight. She didn’t want to interrupt Deanna’s life any more than she already had.

  “Sure, that’s why you’re here,” Aubrey muttered.

  She wasn’t even thinking about doing laundry until she learned that Myra Stewart was a member of Deanna’s book club. Seeing Sam’s mom again would be nearly as hard as it had been to see Sam. She wasn’t ready to face the scorn of someone she’d loved and respected for so long.

  Besides, unlike her Laundromat back in L.A., Aubrey had had this one to herself for the past hour. It had been the perfect place to clear her mind and think about her next steps. She’d been doing that a lot lately, trying to decide if she should do what Deanna and Paul both suggested—live with them until she earned her degree, paid down her debts, and got back on track financially—or if she should move somewhere else in a few months and continue pursuing her dream.

  Although, her dream wasn’t the same as the one she’d had when she first left Maplesville ten years ago.

  After a decade of seeing what it took to make it in the music industry, Aubrey had decided it wasn’t for her, at least not as the star she thought she would become. She would be happy to teach music for the rest of her life. She’d found her calling as a vocal coach, helping other young singers develop their gift. She was good at it.

  But she wouldn’t be able to make a career out of being a vocal coach here in Maplesville. She would have to eventually move to a bigger metropolis, somewhere that was ripe with young, starry-eyed dreamers bursting with raw talent that needed to be molded by someone who had once been in their shoes. She had a lot to offer those young hopefuls out there. She’d learned more hard life lessons in her twenty-eight years than most people who were twice her age.

  The door to the Laundromat opened and Dale Chauvin walked in, a white laundry basket tucked under his arm. He smiled when he spotted her.

  “Hey, Aubrey. How’s it going?” he asked as he started straight for her.

  Aubrey was still a bit shocked at how accepting both Dale and Ian had been to her at The Corral last week. She would have thought their loyalty to Sam as his two best friends would have them both giving her the cold shoulder, but that hadn’t been the case.

  “It’s going okay,” she answered. She gestured to the clothes she’d been folding. “My sister’s washing machine broke this morning.”

  “My sister’s broke too,” Dale said, holding up his basket. “I think she did it on purpose because she’s tired of me raiding her fridge while I do my laundry.”

  Aubrey chuckled. “Can’t say I blame her. How’s Vanessa doing?”

  “She’s still Vanessa,” Dale said, as if that was all that needed to be said.

  Actually, it was. Aubrey had always admired Vanessa Chauvin. She remembered when Dale’s older sister came out as a lesbian. A few people in Maplesville tried to turn it into a scandal, but Vanessa shut down that talk before it had a chance to turn into anything. Everyone learned to accept her for the person she was, not necessarily because they wanted to, but because Vanessa demanded it.

  Aubrey wished she could have been that strong when her own scandal broke. Instead, she’d left the people in this town to their gossip and hadn’t bothered to look back.

  “You know,” Dale started as he shoved an armful of dark-blue T-shirts, all with the words Harding Construction embossed on the left breast pocket, into a washing machine. “We spent so much time chatting about Zena’s run on America Can Sing at The Corral that I never got around to asking what you’re doing back in Maplesville.”

  Aubrey instantly bristled.

  Dale held both hands up. “I hope it doesn’t seem as if I’m prying, but I guess I am. I mean, there aren’t many jobs for professional singers here. I just wondered what made you come back.”

  After hearing the same question from Sam over and over again Wednesday night, Aubrey’s first instinct was to tell him to mind his own business, but then she remembered the way Dale had invited her to sit with them at The Corral last week. He gave her no reason to think he’d asked out of anything but genuine curiosity.

  “Actually, I’ve had a couple of professional singing gigs since I came back home,” Aubrey said. “I sang the Star-Spangled Banner at a groundbreaking ceremony for a new school being built over in Slidell, and was the soloist at a funeral last week.”

  “Who says Maplesville isn’t as glamorous as Tinseltown?” Dale said with a laugh.

  She couldn’t help but join in. “I’m also going to school. I’m in my third year of an online program through the University of California system.”

  His eyes widened. “No shit. So am I. I just started a few weeks ago, though. And I’m going the old school route, attending classes twice a week at the University of New Orleans.”

  “But I thought you earned your degree from LSU?”

  Dale wiggled his hand. “Whether or not I earned it is still up for debate, but that degree was in business. I’m going back to earn my teaching degree.”

  “I’m going for the same. Well, not technically. Mine will be a Professional Studies of Music degree, but teaching is a big part of it. I want to teach when I’m done.”

  If anyone would have told her just a few months ago that she would spend a half hour shooting the breeze with Dale Chauvin about the ups and downs of life as a college student, Aubrey would have asked what kind of drugs they were using. But life came at you fast, and it changed with unbelievable quickness.

  “I have to admit, it’s pretty strange to see you here in Maplesville after all this time,” Dale said. “I figured you were done with us a long time ago.”

  “I thought the town was done with me,” Aubrey said. “I didn’t think I would ever be welcomed back.”

  Dale shrugged. “People around here are pretty forgiving. I don’t think anyone cares about what happened before you left.”

  She snorted. “I know of at least one Maplesville resident who still cares.”

  “You mean Sam?”

  She nodded. “He came to see me a couple of nights ago. Showed up at the church just as choir practice was letting out.”

  Dale’s eyes widened. “Sam?”

  “He wanted to talk.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yes, Sam.” Aubrey chuckled. “I asked him for a little peace between us. He agreed.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s all he seems willing to give,” she said. “I’m just going to try to stay out of his way as best as possible. The last thing I want to do is stir up any kind of trouble. That’s not why I came home.”

  “Look, Aubrey, Sam’s been through a lot lately.”

  “Of course he has. I understand that. I know how close he and Charlie were.”

  “Yeah, well Sam’s troubles started long before Charlie died.”

  She frowned at the agitation she heard in Dale’s voice. “What do you mean?”

  He ran a palm down his face. “It’s not my place to say anything. If Sam knew I’d said even this much he’d try to kick my ass. I say ‘try’ because we both know I’d annihilate his bony ass, but he’d probably put up a good fight.”

  “His ass isn’t bony,” Aubrey said.

  Dale’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “It is compared to mine.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I won’t tell him you said anything if you don’t tell him that I remarked on his ass.”

  He chuckled. “You got a deal.” But then he sobered, his eyes growing earnest. “Just know that Sam’s made it through some really rough times. I was afraid that you coming back to Maples
ville would send him sailing over the edge again, but he’s taking it better than I’d expected.” He dipped his head, bringing his eyes in contact with hers. “Don’t let him push you away, okay?”

  She was touched that Dale cared enough to give her advice on how to deal with Sam, but she also knew it was a lost cause, especially after Wednesday night.

  “It would be naive of me to think there could ever be anything between me and Sam,” Aubrey said. “There’s too much water under that bridge.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Dale said. “I’ve known Sam all my life. He’s never been as serious about anyone as he was about you. Even after all this time. Don’t you think that says something?”

  “He hates me, Dale.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He’s angry. He’s been angry since you left, but that doesn’t mean you two don’t belong together. I mean it, Aubrey. As much as Sam may think he hates you, I’ve never seen him love anyone the way he loved you. Ian and I used to rip him over it all the time, but we were both jealous of what the two of you had.

  “Now that I’ve found that same thing with my girlfriend, Nyree, I can better recognize it in others. Sam has never had that with anyone else. Only you.”

  Aubrey braced herself against the onslaught of hope that Dale’s words stirred within her. She hadn’t allowed herself to look for anything other than friendship with Sam. And she couldn’t even manage that. She could barely get him to agree not to look at her with complete and utter scorn. She wasn’t about to get her hopes up, thinking there could be anything remotely resembling an actual relationship between them.

  No. No way. She wouldn’t allow herself to get caught up in that dream.

  If she was being honest with herself, she could admit that there had been a small part of her heart that wanted something deeper than just friendship with Sam, but after their talk a couple nights ago she no longer entertained ideas of the two of them reconnecting on any true level. The most Aubrey could hope for between herself and Sam was a casual acquaintanceship, or at the very least that he would be cordial to her when he passed her on the street.

  Hoping for anything more than that was just setting herself up for heartbreak.

  Chapter 4

  Sam leaned against the rusted front fender of his dad’s old Chevy pickup. It had been parked in this very spot in his parents’ driveway for well over a year, ever since his dad’s ALS took away his ability to drive. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ground, debating whether he should just get back into his own truck and leave. His mom had left him a voicemail earlier, letting him know she was going to some gallery exhibit in New Orleans. No one would even know he’d been here.

  Except both Ian and Dale were on their way.

  Shit. He knew he shouldn’t have called them.

  As if his mind had conjured them, Dale pulled up to the curb in front of the house, with Ian motoring in on the Suzuki bike he’d rescued from a junkyard and restored to amazing beauty. Sam tracked his friends as they made their way toward him.

  Ian nodded in greeting and Dale brought Sam in for a one-armed hug.

  “You sure you’re up for this?” Dale asked. “We know how hard this is, Sam, especially with tomorrow being Father’s Day.”

  He didn’t need the reminder. It didn’t matter how much he’d tried to avoid thinking about the first Father’s Day without his dad, the date still loomed like a thunderous storm cloud on his calendar.

  “Dale’s right,” Ian said. “Why don’t you stick to using my garage for now.”

  Sam shook his head. “No, I’m good,” he lied. Anxiety squeezed his heart, as if it was caught between the metal teeth of the cast iron vise just a few yards away, beyond the closed doors of the workshop. He’d avoided this moment since the day he’d locked the doors over a year ago, not wanting to face this place where his dad had spent so much time back when he was healthy and vibrant, his body not stiff from the ravages of ALS.

  But Sam also knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. His dad wouldn’t want him to.

  He needed a table saw to cut the clapboard he would be using for the facade of one of the storefronts for the theater production. Dale had offered to cut them for him while on the job for the construction company where he worked, but Sam didn’t want his friend to risk getting reprimanded for doing outside work on the job. Not when Charlie’s table saw stood just beyond those doors.

  Sam considered renting one, but decided against it. It was past time he stopped hiding and faced this. Hopefully, it would be like pulling off a Band-Aid. Once he got over the initial pain of seeing all his dad’s things again, it would somehow become easier.

  Sam led the way to his dad’s workshop, Ian and Dale both falling in line behind him.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he inserted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. Dust motes floated in the rays of sunlight glinting through the windows. The comforting smell of sawdust saturated the air. The walls were imbued with the overpowering aroma of wood varnish, a lingering legacy of the years his dad spent in this space, building cabinetry for kitchens around the area.

  As Sam looked around the silent workshop, raw pain sliced through him. He’d expected it. It was the reason he’d avoided coming here all this time. But, surprisingly, it didn’t take long for the sharp pain to subside, becoming nothing more than a subtle ache in his chest as his eyes roamed around the small, simple building.

  “Man, this place holds some memories, doesn’t it?” This from Dale.

  Ian chuckled. “There was nothing better than hanging out here with Charlie, seeing which one of us could get the biggest rise out of him.”

  “He thought we were all a bunch of knuckleheads,” Sam said.

  “He was right,” they all said in unison.

  Sam smoothed his hand over the rough surface of his dad’s favorite work table. He trailed his fingers across the scarred wood, and a calmness and sense of peace he hadn’t felt since before his dad’s diagnosis stole over him. He felt closer to Charlie than he had in a long time. He’d spent all this time avoiding this place when he should have been savoring the connection it had to his father.

  “I’m not taking the table saw out of here,” Sam said.

  “But I thought you needed it for the props,” Ian said.

  Sam looked over at him. “I’m going to bring over the things in your garage and finish building the set here.”

  “You sure about that?” Dale asked.

  Sam nodded, feeling better about his decision with each second that passed. “My dad used to look forward to building the sets for the theater productions every year. He’d want me to do the work here, in his shop.”

  “You got it,” Ian said. He leaned against Charlie’s 5-drawer tool chest and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll help you haul the stuff from my place right now if that’s what you want.”

  “We can give it a couple of days,” Sam said. “I need to work on the database I’ve been building for one of my clients. They need it sooner than we’d first contracted, so I’m taking the rest of the weekend to finish it and charging them an extra thirty percent for the rush job.”

  “Lucky son of a bitch,” Dale groused. “Making all that money and sits on his ass all day.”

  “Jealousy looks ugly on you,” Sam said with a laugh.

  He stopped short. Was he actually laughing in his dad’s shop? One of his biggest fears was that he would break down into sobs the moment he walked into the building. Instead, he was laughing. It made him want to laugh even harder.

  He did exactly that when Ian recounted the argument he’d had with Sonny that morning over her wanting to trade in her beloved VW Bug for a bigger car once the baby arrived. Sam would have guessed it would be the other way around, seeing as how Sonny adored her car, but apparently the car held just as much sentimental value for Ian.

  None of them made a habit of sharing details about their sex lives, but both Sam and Dale knew about what had taken place in the p
arking lot of The Corral between Sonny and Ian the first night they’d met. Sam didn’t blame the guy for wanting to keep the car. That had to be one grade-A memory.

  Dale pushed himself up on the countertop and said, “I forgot to mention this. I ran into Aubrey at the Laundromat last night.”

  Sam’s good mood instantly turned sour.

  “I didn’t realize she was in school,” Dale continued. “She’s working on her degree in music.”

  “No shit,” Ian said. “Good for her.”

  Good for her? So now it was good that she wanted a degree?

  When Sam had begged her to follow him to Tulane, she’d claim she wasn’t cut out for it. She had it in her mind that earning a degree was a waste of time for someone who was going to be the next big pop star. Funny how that shit changed once she realized she couldn’t make it as a singer.

  Sam winced at the amount of malice behind that thought.

  He was thinking about her as if she was still that young, reckless teenager, but that was ten years ago. Of course Aubrey’s outlook had changed now that she was older. A decent human being would applaud her for going back to school. He would be a decent fucking human being.

  “Aubrey also mentioned that you went to see her at the church’s choir practice,” Dale said.

  Ian’s head whipped around to him. “You did?”

  Sam shifted from one foot to the other. “Yeah, so.”

  “So? You’ve spent the past ten years threatening to take our heads off if we so much as mention her name, yet you went to talk to her and didn’t bother to tell us? What did you two talk about?” Ian asked. “Did you talk about…you know?”

  “No,” Sam quickly replied.

  He knew exactly what “you know” was, and he had no desire to even think about it, let alone talk about it. Why in the hell would he ever want to bring up one of the most humiliating, devastating episodes of his life? It would be akin to stabbing a knife directly into an old wound that had finally started to heal. He wasn’t about to put himself through that.