by Miles, Ava
It took Rye a moment to clear his throat. “Sure, son. Do you have anything in mind?”
Rory cuddled closer, his warm body soft. “Would you sing that Elvis song, ’Love Me Tender’? Tory told Granddaddy it was her favorite.”
Rye felt his breath leave his chest, remembering that long ago night in Memphis. Christ, what a fool he’d been.
“Sure, son. I think that’s my favorite song, now, too.”
“You’ll have to tell her that, Uncle Rye. It’ll make her happy.”
I hope so, he thought as he started to sing, his deep voice caressing the words. His voice broke suddenly at the memory of Tory in Club 152, and Rory patted his chest with a small hand.
Rye had found his voice again.
But I missed her so,
Couldn’t let her go.
So, I got on my knees,
Started a prayer with please,
And asked God to send back my angel to me.
Told Him I’d make her a home,
And love her all my days,
Down here,
In country heaven.
Rye Crenshaw’s new verses for the song now titled, “Country Heaven”
Chapter 25
Finding the exact location of Tory’s camp in Kenya was taking longer than Rye liked. Myra hadn’t felt comfortable telling him where Tory was in light of Tory’s refusal to accept his offer on the house. The setback had been disappointing, of course, but he had used the time to record the new version of “Country Heaven” and put a rush on the cover art and new songs. The end product couldn’t be more symbolic of the new man he was, and he hoped Tory would understand that.
The art featured him sitting near a glorious autumn tree, his signature black cowboy hat resting off to the side, the blurred forms of his niece and nephew running around in the background by the tree swing. Tammy had been kind enough to agree to the concept, understanding how important the kids had become to him. Rory had asked him to let Tory know it was him running around since his face wasn’t visible. The kid was champing at the bit to find her as much as he was.
His private investigator had discovered that Fulbright had given her the grant, so J.P. had flown up to Washington, D.C., to personally deliver a sizeable donation to one of the board members and work his magic. When his friend called with the information, Rye heaved a sigh of relief and shouted for Rory to tell him the good news.
“We found her, son.”
And the little boy jumped into his arms and said, “It’s about time, Uncle Rye,” which made him laugh.
It was early November, and even though Tory was supposed to be coming back around Christmastime, he wasn’t about to wait. And, as J.P. had pointed out, the fact that Rye would be stepping onto a plane for the first time in his life might be an even bigger gesture than the album.
A few days later, he was boarding the private jet he’d commissioned for the trip. J.P., Clayton, and Rhett had insisted on making the trip with him. Part of him wondered if they were coming because they were worried how he’d take it if Tory rejected him. Whatever their reasons, he was grateful for their support.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” J.P. said from beside him. “You look about as sick as a bloated possum after days of being dead by the side of the road.”
Not wanting to be groggy, he’d decided against drugging himself for the plane ride. He planned on gritting his teeth the whole way. Except he’d already been doing that for a day and his jaw hurt, and he hadn’t even gotten on the plane yet. “I’ll be fine.”
“Can’t tell you how proud I am of you, Rye,” Rhett said, slapping him on the back with enough force to send a smaller man flying. “Seems fitting for me to help you claim your woman, since you helped me serenade mine.”
Yeah, what a time that had been, playing the piano in the freezing cold as his friend crooned the song he’d written for Abbie. At the time, Rye hadn’t believed he’d ever do something so crazy over a woman, and yet here he was, gripping the handrail as he ascended the plane’s stairs, about ready to puke.
“I still say you should have videoed that performance, Rye,” Clayton drawled. “We all know Rhett can’t sing worth spit.”
His friends continued to banter as they found their seats and belted themselves in. Rye just concentrated on taking deep breaths during takeoff, and when they reached cruising altitude, he somehow managed to peel himself out of his seat and join the others in the sitting area.
Clayton looked up and grinned, clearly enjoying his discomfort. “I just can’t feel bad for you, Rye. Here you are, on a private jet in pure luxury. Terrified. You don’t know how scary commercial airlines are. They don’t even give you a can of soda anymore.”
A snort was all Rye could manage.
“Oh stop riling him,” Rhett said, plopping a deck of cards on the table between the men. “Let’s play some poker.”
Rye lost every hand, which he hoped wasn’t a bad omen.
When they stopped to refuel, he stayed on the plane, not wanting to step on land until he was in Kenya, worried he might not be able to make himself get back on. He’d hoped that the longer they flew, the easier it would become.
It didn’t.
When they arrived in Nairobi late that night and found their hotel, he took a cold shower and tried to calm his system down. Tomorrow, the guide they’d hired would take him on another godforsaken plane ride to the Maasai Mara, and then they’d drive the hour plus to the site of Tory’s camp. He’d been warned the plane was the size of a crop duster, and his stomach roiled at the thought.
Sleep was impossible. But he was closer to Tory than he’d been in months, and even though everything around him was foreign, he took some comfort in that.
He finally fell asleep after reading the card Rory had made for Tory yet again.
Even if she could resist him, how could she possibly resist his nephew pleading his case?
***
The camp was totally empty when they arrived. It was nothing like Rye had imagined, and it made him wonder how she’d lived like this for the past months. There were three tents pitched close together, two private quarters, and one that was stacked with camping gear and cooking equipment. The shower and bathroom setup made him frown. It was outside with barely a cloth to conceal the person using it, and a huge rusted tank overhead with holes punched into it. The fire pit in the middle of the camp drew his gaze, and he wondered how she cooked out here and what she ate. Dear God!
“Makes my summer camp growing up look like a five–star hotel,” Clayton muttered.
There was a small river below a steep cliff about a hundred yards off, the waters muddy and filled with shifting shapes. Hippos. Crocodiles.
“Jesus,” Rhett breathed out. “It’s like Wild Kingdom. Why isn’t she living with the tribe she’s studying?”
“The more traditional Maasai don’t like to have people that close to them,” J.P. said. He was the expert on the trip, since he’d done a fair share of reading and talked to the Fulbright people. “There are some land and cultural issues, but you don’t care about that.”
“Where in the hell is she?” Rye asked, kicking at the ground.
“Probably out on a field trip at one of the surrounding villages,” J.P. said. “We’ll have to wait for her here.”
Rye looked around. He’d been hoping for some privacy for their conversation, but he wasn’t sure he was going to get it. The sun was hot and the flies were as attracted to him as his craziest female fans.
Yet the beauty of the place was undeniable. The vast savanna was flat and sparse with only one or two knobby trees dotting the landscape. They had seen some giraffes and a ton of zebras and water buffaloes on the way to Tory’s camp, and Rhett was right. It was like watching Wild Kingdom.
A green Range Rover appeared in the distance, and Rye’s breath caught. It was her. Finally.
The vehicle was still miles away, and it took a while for it to come close enough for him to see that it was a young man
, not Tory. This had to be the other student. A sudden worry hit him in the solar plexus: could she have fallen for this guy?
When the redhead climbed out of the cab, J.P. crossed over to him, his mega–watt smile radiating charm. “You must be Kevin Andrews,” he said. “The people at Fulbright couldn’t say enough good things about your grant application. I’m John Parker McGuiness.” Then he introduced the rest of them.
When J.P. reached Rye, the young man frowned, and it was obvious he knew something about Rye’s connection to Tory.
“I was hoping to speak with Tory,” Rye said. “I’m not sure if you know this, but she worked for me this past summer as my cook, and we have some unfinished business.”
“Long way to come for business,” the guy said, raising his eyebrows. “She’s still out in the field.”
Well, he hadn’t been expecting that. “Can you let us know how to find her? I’d like to see her today.”
“Directions out here aren’t particularly easy to explain to outsiders,” he said.
“We have a driver who knows the area,” J.P. said, “and we’d appreciate your help in finding Tory.”
The guy gave each of them a lingering look, and Rye could tell he wasn’t going to share diddly. “Would it be all right if we waited for her, then?” He wasn’t about to leave without seeing her.
“You can wait in the mess tent, I guess. But it’s going to be a while. Where are you staying? I can tell her you were here when she returns.”
Like Rye would leave something this important to a stranger.
“That’s mighty neighborly of you,” Rhett said. “We’re staying at The Queen’s Lodge. But we don’t mind waiting. Tory’s an old friend.”
“I’ll bet,” Kevin said. “Fine. I have some things to do, so if you’d like to make yourself at home…”
Yeah, the guy had a chip on his shoulder all right.
They ducked inside the mess tent, and Rye took in the sight of an old mini–fridge, a hot plate, and a couple of chipped plates and bowls. This had to be the camp kitchen. Christ, how could she stand to cook under these conditions when she loved cooking so much?
“More poker anyone?” Rhett said as they settled in at the small table, J.P. pulling over two crates to serve as makeshift chairs since there were only two in the tent.
“Might as well,” Rye said, looking at his watch. The waiting was getting to him, but he had to stay focused. He was here. She was coming. It would all work out.
For the second time, he lost every hand at poker.
***
When Tory returned at sunset, she noticed the additional Rover and guide waiting near the camp. While she wondered who their visitors could be, she had to go to the bathroom so bad, she didn’t stop to find out. The village she’d been working in today was thirty minutes from their camp, and while she could go outside in nature any time she wanted, there were no trees for cover save a lone acacia. The animals in the Mara were incredibly socialized to people, which is why you could pull your Rover over next to a cheetah or lion sunning itself without fear of being mauled, but they were still wild animals.
And she might not have a nice bathroom anymore, but at least it had four sides.
While she was sprinting to it, Kevin emerged from his tent. “Tory, we have some visitors.”
“Yes, I saw. Be back in a jiff.” She waved and hurried off to handle her business.
When she emerged, Kevin was gone, so she headed to her tent to freshen up and use a wet wipe to clear off the dust and grime of the day. They didn’t have visitors often, but at least she could be less sweaty and dirty while they chatted.
Unzipping her tent netting designed to keep air circulating but the bugs out, she stepped inside and immediately turned around to zip it back up.
“Hello, Tory,” a familiar voice said from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder and stumbled back against the tent when she saw Rye standing there.
He was hatless and dressed in tan slacks and a white long–sleeve T–shirt and looked much leaner. His hair still curled at the end, a mix of blond and ash that she’d remembered each and every time she looked out at the savanna. He still had his goatee, and his hazel eyes seemed to drill all the way into her soul.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and a part of her thought for a moment that she had to be crazy, thinking she was seeing him here. With her. After all this time.
Yet he approached her as she stood there, her quickened breaths audible in the quiet of the tent. Speechless, she watched him reach out and touch the hair sticking out of her hat. “It’s longer,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I like it.”
When his fingers brushed her hair, it snapped her to attention. “What are you doing here? How…did you even find me?”
“We contacted Fulbright.” His hands fell to his sides. “I’ve come a long way to talk to you.”
Suddenly it was too much. “Why in the world would you come here? It’s been months, Rye.” Then a thought hit her. “There’s nothing wrong with your family, is there?”
His gaze roamed over her face. “No, everybody’s fine. They send their best. Including Rory.”
She picked at her white cotton skirt. Oh, that sweet little boy. “Then I don’t understand why you’re here. There’s nothing more for us to say to each other. I’ve moved on with my life, and I thought you would have, too.”
“There are things I need to say to you. Things I want to explain. I should have called you about buying the house—”
“Stop right there,” she interrupted, and suddenly the old anger—that he had gone too far, interfered too much—had her seeing red. “ Like some personal Dear John letter? Oh dammit, why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” She’d been so happy, stepping more into the sun each day, and now she was being plunged back into the darkness.
“No, God, I…I needed to see you. To tell you how things have been. How everything has changed. Tory, I’ve missed you like you’re my last breath.”
It felt as though her heart had crashed down against the rocks, miles from shore. “Stop saying things like that. It’s too late. Don’t you understand? I came all this way to get you out of my head, and now you’re here.”
She edged away, but he reached for her shoulder, and that old ping of attraction between them blew through her defenses. This time it was unwelcome, a devastating reminder of everything they’d lost.
“Tory,” he whispered hoarsely. “I love you. Please just calm down and let me talk. I have something I want to show you.”
At one time hearing those words from him would have given her hope, but all they did now was engulf her in familiar pain. “Stop this! You don’t love me. If you did, you never would have believed I’d betray you.”
He hung his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m ashamed of that. I’ve never asked anyone this directly before, but I’m asking you… Tory, will you forgive me?”
So, this was about his guilt, after all. Studying him, she realized her first impression of how lean he’d become was spot on. He was haggard, and he didn’t radiate star quality quite like he had when she’d worked for him.
Her lip started to quiver. “It’s not so easy as that, Rye. You hurt me. Not once, but twice.”
“I know that, and I’m sorrier than you could ever know. Please forgive me, Tory. So we can begin again. I’m a changed man, and I brought something to show that to you.”
He wanted her back? Her hand flew to her throat, and she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. Would it even be possible after all the betrayal and hurt he’d put her through?
“Tory, are you all right?” Kevin called, and the sound of her tent unzipping made her look away from Rye.
“If you’d just give us some privacy,” Rye barked.
“I heard raised voices,” Kevin said and walked over to her. “Is everything all right? Do you want him to leave?”
Rye stepped forward in a move designed to intimidate, but
Kevin didn’t back down.
“Oh stop it. Both of you,” she said. “I need to think. Rye, I…where are you staying?”
If she had time to think, then she’d be better prepared for the next time they spoke.
“Tory, please don’t send me away,” he said, and cast a cutting glance at Kevin. “Please let me stay and tell you about my family and how things have been with them.”
It was a low blow, and he knew it, using her love for his family to sway her. But she felt like she was emotionally freefalling, and she desperately needed to regain control. Otherwise she was afraid she’d start yelling at him or crying over spilt milk, and she had too much pride for that.
“No, you sprang this on me. Coming here out of nowhere. I need some time to process all this.”
His sigh was long suffering, and he put his hands on his hips, looking defeated. “All right. I’ll give you your time. I’m staying at The Queen’s Lodge. Do you know it?”
Of course. It was the most luxurious safari park around, frequented by celebrities. “Yes, I do. I’ll…find you. When I’m ready to talk.”
Rye inclined his head to Kevin. “Can you give me a moment here?”
Her friend looked over at her for guidance. “It’s okay, Kevin.”
When he left the tent, Rye took a deep breath and gazed at her with such intensity, she could feel all the tears she’d suppressed rising up in her chest.
“I do love you, and I’ve changed. Like I said, I brought proof…or at least as close to proof as I can get.” He crossed the space and picked up a manila envelope from her small sitting table. “This is for you. I hope it will help you see…”
She took it when he pressed it into her hands, and then he covered her hands with his. “I do love you, and I’m willing to do anything you want to show you just how much.”
A huge pocket of emotion flew out of her with as she exhaled sharply.
He crossed to the tent flap. “Will you promise me you’ll come talk to me when you’ve done your thinking?”
Since she couldn’t squeeze a word out, she nodded sharply.
