“What the hell does it look like?!” Dustin was at the end of his rope. He couldn’t stare at this thing any longer. He thought it had given him solace, but he knew better now – it had just been heartache. He thought he needed a reminder. But a reminder of what? Of everything he lost and had no chance of getting back? He could live forever without being reminded of that again
“Looks like you’re being an idiot. That’s what it looks like.”
“Thanks so much for the pep talk, Peter. So sorry that I can’t just carry on like nothing ever fucking happened.”
“Hey,” Peter cut in, his voice harsh. “Hey!” He grabbed the front of his brother’s shirt and forced their gazes together. “Don’t be such a fucking prick, Dusty. I had to move on. For the girls. I didn’t have a choice like you who just gets to wallow and be a fucking drama queen.”
“My life would have been a whole lot better if I had never laid eyes on that girl.”
“No.” Peter’s voice was all steel, and Dustin couldn’t help but glare at him. His twin’s eyes flashed fire. “Don’t ever say that.”
“What the hell is wrong with you? You spend forever telling me to go get her, then you tell me to be careful, and now you’re telling me what?” He pulled away from Peter and slammed his hands against the tree, launching himself out of Peter’s reach. “Have your daughters made you so soft that you can’t handle a rant anymore?”
“Rant away, Dustin. It’s what you’re good at. Ranting and raving at the unfortunate circumstances of the world. Well, I have just two words for you. Buck up.”
“Buck up?! Did you seriously just tell me to Buck Up? Today of all days? What kind of shit is that?”
Peter looked like a warrior about to step into battle. “It has been ten years, Dustin. Ten. And you’ve done nothing about it. You don’t want to be hung up on some girl – then stop. You want to have her again – then fight. But don’t you ever say that you wish you’d never met her.”
“And why the fuck not?”
“Because without the girl there wouldn’t have been a car accident. Without the car accident, I wouldn’t have been in an emergency room, meeting Darcy. Without that, Melody and Harmony wouldn’t be a part of our lives. I thank God every fucking day for that girl.”
Dustin’s face went slack with shock, not at all prepared for those words from his twin. He couldn’t imagine his life without those girls. The last decade without Melody’s quiet contemplation and Harmony’s feisty spirit would have been unbearable. The only reason he hadn’t been swallowed whole by the bleak cloud of loss was them. Shining surrogates for the family that almost was. “I never… I didn’t…”
Peter sighed and closed the space between them. “Why do you think I hand you magazines with Faith’s face on them?” Dustin just shrugged. “Because I think you guys can have it. You had to break apart so you could grow and so we could find the other half of our family. But that doesn’t mean you were meant to stay that way.”
Dustin’s eyes moved from his twin to his tree, sturdy and strong, blossoms peeking out from between the branches. Peter laid a hand on his shoulder before retreating, picking up the axe from the ground as he left. “You can still have that happily ever after you tell the girls about.”
Dustin wiped a hand at his eyes, shaking himself from his black thoughts. “I don’t know why we’re still talking about this, Peter. It doesn’t matter. She’s gone, not coming back.”
Peter was halfway across the yard before he replied. “No man, the love of my life is gone. She’s not coming back. Yours just got lost along the way.”
“She doesn’t want me, Peter. She fucking left me. Again. Pretty damn sure that says it all,” Dustin yelled after him, kicking the dirt in frustration.
Peter continued on as if Dustin hadn’t spoken. “Only a fool wouldn’t try and find her. It’s been ten years Dustin – you over being a fool yet?”
Chapter 19
Bea sat at her desk, a large glass of sweet tea next to her computer, and surveyed the room. Mementos of a life well-lived stared back at her – photos of her favorite guests and friends, crafts the kids had given her from time to time, even a spare bridle or two. She’d met a lot of people and lived a full life, both as camp director and then as a successful high-end hotel owner. The Fruit Orchard Company had reinvented itself as many times as Beatrice herself had.
She was feeling particularly nostalgic this morning, so she abandoned the numbers in front of her and walked to the high bar littered with photographs. Her and Walter on the day they were married and the other just a few weeks shy of his funeral. Twenty had been too few years together. But she’d persevered, pulled up and out because her kids needed her. Even now her business manager would ask why she would only open their most beautiful resort to at-risk youth for summer camp. She’d just shake her head and smile, give him the Irresistible Twinkle as he’d call it.
Another picture caught her eye, and the corners of her mouth turned down. Those two had been crazy about each other from almost the moment they laid eyes on one another. Dustin and Faith, two people more perfect together had not been made since Bea and Walter. Ah, that’s why she couldn’t concentrate. Today was the day she’d watched them wed from her window, so happy they’d found each other. It was also ten years since they’d split. They kept in touch with her, if not each other, and she could always hear the yearning even if they couldn’t.
Dustin would just shake his head and call her a crazy old lady for saying so. But there would be something else in his eyes even if he didn’t know it. Peter had been her co-conspirator for years, but there wasn’t much more they could nudge.
Both such good people, both such good hearts. She worried about Faith more, though everyone thought that was crazy. Faith was a rich, successful singer with talent to spare. She could take care of herself. Bea wasn’t always so sure about that. She put on a good front but her heart was still broken. First Dustin then Maya. Bea always thought she should have cut that poor girl a bit more slack, but Faith didn’t listen to her any more than Dustin did.
She’d been a meddling matchmaker for as long as she could remember and those two had been her greatest achievement – and her biggest regret. She wanted to shake some sense into them but knew those stubborn kids wouldn’t take her seriously at all. Then again, they didn’t know her story. Her eyes tracked to another set of photos, ones set farther back on the shelf, and she picked them up. A teenage bride with a smile a mile wide, standing next to the most handsome soldier you’d ever see. She’d only been married to Norman for a month before she was widowed. And the other photo of an irrepressible old lady who knew exactly how to nudge her into a better life. It’s all she’d ever tried to do.
There was a knock at her door, and she put the photos down. Everyone around here knew to come right on in. She turned with a smile on her face and stopped short, wondering how she’d summoned a singer to her side. “Faith,” she said, her smile growing as she opened her arms to her. The girl didn’t say anything, just crossed the room, her sobs starting before she’d even reached her embrace.
Dustin sat on the steps of the gazebo as the sun set, looking out across the field at the farmhouse and thinking about what Peter had said. He’d been holding so much anger and pain about that day a decade ago that he’d never even considered there was a silver lining to the storm cloud. If it was fate, it sure had a tricky way of intervening.
But he didn’t think he believed in such nonsense. But then, years ago he’d been head over heels in love with one of the members of the most popular girl group since the Spice Girls. Who’d have ever thought they’d cross paths in the normal course of events. Was it fate that brought her to a ranch instead of a beach or a ski chalet? Was it fate that brought them a lemon tree?
Harmony came into view, making her way across the yard, and he took the chance to look at her, really look. She walked over to him and his surly mood without hesitation, confident in the fact that he wasn’t going to rebuke her pr
esence. Completely sure of his love for her. She was always the search party Peter sent out when his good humor was scarce and needed to be recovered.
What would his life have been like if she wasn’t in it? More worrisome, what would her life have been like? Darcy was sick when Peter met her; she would have been that way even if they hadn’t met. Who would’ve cared for the girls after she passed? One distant relative who didn’t want them as much as he wanted to be paid off for not fucking up their lives. He shuddered to think where his nieces would be without that car crash in the pouring rain.
Harmony reached the gazebo, dropped down beside him, and handed him a glass without even looking. He took a sip and coughed at the unexpected taste of whiskey. “What’s in yours?” he asked with a pointed glance.
“Iced tea.” She took a sip and let silence sit between them.
“Are you happy?” Dustin asked her.
“Happier than you, I think,” she responded with a smile, impish glee in her eyes.
“No, I’m serious. Are you happy? Here. With us.”
“Ecstatic,” she said without a moment’s pause.
Dustin pulled her in close, placing a kiss against her temple. “I love you, Harm.”
“I know,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “You could stand to love a few more people too, you know.”
He rolled his eyes. “I already have you, Melody, and Peter. What is this, a lovefest? Am I a hippie now?”
“Only you would think three is a crowd, Uncle Dust.”
“Better that way,” he mumbled.
“Dad says that being kind and spreading love and joy is one of the greatest things we can do.”
“Hippie.”
“I think he heard it in a song somewhere,” Harmony said with a sly glance.
“Say your piece, meddling woman.” Dustin sighed.
Harmony turned to face him and tucked her feet under her, giving him her undivided attention. “I liked Faith.”
“I liked her, too,” Dustin said, just as surprised as Harmony that he admitted it.
“Did you tell her that?” He looked away from her disapproving gaze and shook his head. “Girls like to hear it, you know.”
“You don’t say?”
“I’m serious, Uncle Dust.” When he didn’t look at her, she continued on in a different tone. “She’s Ally.”
“Harmony, I know who she is. It’s my story.”
“It’s my story,” she said. “And it’s Mel’s story. And we want it to have a real happy ending. If Dad couldn’t have one with Mom, then you should get one for all of us.”
He looked up and saw the tears shining in her eyes. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “Harm, don’t cry.”
“Is that what being an adult is like? Being sad and never getting what you want?”
“Shh,” he murmured. “Sometimes it is. But not for you, honey. Never for you. I’ll make sure you have your happy ending if I have to write it myself.” And damn the man that tries to make a liar out of him.
“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” And he would be. For her, for Melody – for all of them. He’d move past it. Try and find another way to make his happily ever after.
The town car finally pulled into Faith’s driveway, the house dark save for the light in her study she always left on. She’d stayed with Bea much longer than she’d been planning on, tears taking too long to stop. She’d blubbered into the old lady’s shoulder for what felt like hours and then didn’t feel like talking so Bea talked instead. Told her a story she’d never heard before about a widow trying to find love again.
She could see that twinkle in the old woman’s eye, knew she was telling her to try inspire her in some way. It hadn’t worked. If possible, it made Faith feel even more lonely. She was tired of hearing love stories whitewashed of all hardship. They all implied that love was enough to get you to the happily ever after. But Dustin and her had had that; that’d weathered multiple places for the story to end happily. Maya had chosen the best one to end hers.
But that wasn’t what love was about, was it? Finding a convenient place to end the story so it was the most happy and hopeful. It was about being all in, showing up and doing the work and choosing to love and continue on every day. Dustin had stopped choosing – she couldn’t rewrite that; she couldn’t spin it so it wasn’t so bad.
For a few hours this morning she’d actually believed that they’d get another chance, thought she’d read it in his eyes. But he didn’t fight for her. He let her go again, just like he did ten years before in a car roaring into the pouring rain. He wanted her to go; he just didn’t want to be the one to admit it. Nothing had changed.
Faith was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open, but the minute she stepped into her house, she knew what she had to do. She made a beeline for her study, grabbed her supplies, and sat down with her guitar. She’d written the words already, staring at the clouds where her home should have been, but needed the strings to find the notes.
The minute the guitar was in her hands, everything assaulted her. Dozens of songs screaming to be written down, dozens more demanding to be finished. Her heartache was good for her productivity. She tried to fend them off as long as she could, never one for multi-tasking when trying to write, but it was fruitless. Her brain was clamoring for closure.
She got up from the floor and searched for the song she tried to keep buried. She dug around in the drawers, pulling out first drafts and scratch paper and letting them fall around the room, trying to find the one song she’d never been able to finish. The one song Andy Peters couldn’t write, only Faith West could. The one with the lemon tree.
“Look who’s back.”
Faith looked up in surprise at the male voice; she was sitting in the middle of her floor with the remnants of her secret life scattered around her.
“Trevor, hi.” She got up from her knees and swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Yeah, I’m back. Sorry if I woke you.”
He smiled an easy grin, but his eyes were shrewd, taking in the tornado of her office. “You weren’t loud. I was just coming down to get Mady some water. I saw the light on and thought I heard something. I’m glad it was you and not a burglar I was going to have to take down. Though this place does look a bit ransacked.”
She tried to laugh. “No one ever confused me with a neat freak. I was just trying to find something and made a pretty big mess looking for it.”
“I can help,” he said, stepping over the threshold of the study and grabbing a piece of paper.
“No really, I…” But it was too late; he’d already reached for the staff paper at his feet. She turned away from him, scrambling to get the rest before he could.
“You write songs?” Trevor asked in interest. “I didn’t know that.” She’d seen his eyes take in her guitar and crumbled up paper. It was a simple conclusion to reach. And would stay innocent as long as he didn’t find anything familiar in her mess.
“No one does. They’re not very good, just something I do to keep my fingers and voice agile.”
“This one’s pretty good,” he murmured, his voice far away. “Wait, I think I’ve heard this one before…”
Faith turned to him, the easy smile on her face taking too much effort, and saw comprehension and awe enter his eyes. “Fuck, you’re Andy Peters.” Trevor’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes never leaving the chicken scratch in his hand.
“You caught me.” Her voice sounded tired even to her own ears. What a can of worms she’d opened. She wanted to crack one wall, just a bit, but now the entire foundation was coming down around her. She moved across the room, pressed lightly on the corner of a piece of wood paneling, and the façade popped open.
The rush of air as Trevor’s breath caught made her smile genuine. She leaned over slightly, knowing what he’d see. Trophies, statutes, all stacked haphazardly against and on top of one another. The last time she’d
thrown an award in, it had been a tight squeeze, and she’d been afraid they’d all come tumbling out the next time she opened the door. Unfortunately it was truth not trophies that came spilling out now.
“Only two people know about this. Me and my lawyer. And now you.” And the girls in Attitunes apparently. And maybe Peter. God, this wasn’t a secret anymore; she might as well start a clubhouse.
“Why would you want to keep this a secret?”
“Don’t ask the easy questions do you?” She grabbed for a Grammy but landed on an Oscar instead. She ran her hand over the small brass man, not wanting to meet Trevor’s intensely curious eyes.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said, laying a hand over hers, voice soft. “My wife is one of the most famous actresses in the world. And I still don’t always appreciate it, or get it, or even like it, but I understand that there are reasons for secrets. I’m sorry I asked.”
He just had to be so damn nice, she thought, hoping he’d ignore the tear that slipped out before she could blink it away. “I was young and I was drowning in pain, hemorrhaging heartache. I tried to hide from it, and when I couldn’t do it any longer, I succumbed to it. Disappeared down a rabbit hole for two weeks, and when I came up for air, I could breathe again. Because every ounce of sadness, doubt, self-loathing, pity, and despair I poured into those songs. Songs I had to write but could never, ever bring myself to sing.”
Faith handed him the statue and removed the song from his grasp. “And then Jackson walked in, newbie lawyer sent to babysit me signing some papers late one night, and those damn eyes of his saw way too much, just like yours. But instead of asking me questions or trying to change my mind, he showed me how to hide in plain sight. Convinced me that my words could have as much impact as my voice. I think I offered him more money than God to leave.” She smirked at the memory. “He told me it would be wiser to hire him on the spot so we’d be covered under attorney-client privilege, and then I could sue the pants off of him if he ever slipped. Though I’d never need to.”
Pucker Up Page 17
