“But no tests?”
“No tests.”
Peter fell silent again, navigating the traffic back to the campus. “You, Felon. How many classes did you miss today?”
“All of them,” Harmony murmured.
“All of yours or all of mine?” She didn’t even dignify that with an answer, just crossed her arms and turned to stare blankly out the window. The ride home was going to be a barrel of laughs.
When they pulled into the parking lot, Melody couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. Peter rolled down his window and beckoned her over, never even turning off the car. “This was not a good idea,” he said.
“I know.” She sighed.
“I expect more out of you. Not just going along with everything she says. You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”
“You’re disappointed in me, and I get it.” Melody looked up then, and her lips curved ever so slightly. “But I think, in the end, we’ll be getting rewards not reprimands.”
“Do you now?” Peter asked, astonished. He could not believe these girls sometimes.
“We haven’t reached the end of the story yet, Dad. It always looks darkest for our heroes right before the dawn.” She winked, kissed him on the cheek, and walked away.
“I should never have let you tell them bedtime stories,” Peter muttered, glancing at his brother in the passenger seat. But before he could put the truck into gear, Dustin jumped out. “Shit.”
“Language,” Harmony said with a sparkle in her eye.
Peter just threw her an unimpressed look before turning off the engine and following his twin. Dustin was next to the truck, pacing a tight line the length of the parking spot. “I’m staying,” he said.
“You’re what?” Peter asked.
“I’m staying. I can’t be in that car for the next four hours. I can’t waste four more hours. I can’t waste four more minutes.”
“Dusty – ”
“No,” he said, raising a hand at Peter to stop. “You don’t understand. I can’t wait. I have to fix this. Right now. Here. Now.”
“I get that. Believe me, I get that. It’s only what I’ve been telling you for the last, oh, ten years. But bro, this is not the way to do it.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Oh really?” Peter said, mocking in his voice. “Then tell me what’s your master plan? You don’t know where Faith lives. You don’t know anyone that will talk to you. You don’t have a place to stay. You definitely don’t have any wheels because I’m driving that truck right back home in the next ten minutes.”
“What about my car?”
The men turned to see Harmony standing on the running board, listening to them as she leaned against the open door.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said with a laugh as he stared at her. “You think you still have a car?” She floundered around for words before shrugging in defeat and climbing back into the truck.
“I can use her car,” Dustin said.
“Her car probably doesn’t even start – we’re going to have to pay the school to haul it away. But that is so not even the point.”
“You’re all talk, Peter. You’ve been all talk for ten damn years. I don’t need talk. Action. I need action.”
Peter watched Dustin pace, his movements that of a caged animal getting ready to escape. But he knew his brother hadn’t thought it all through, getting ready to chase after the girl into a rainstorm again. “Action didn’t work last time.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Dustin, stop,” Peter said, grabbing his brother around the shoulders and pulling him to a stop. “Last time you ran without thinking you got sucker punched by a foreign car. Flattened so badly I thought they were going to have to peel you off the fucking road.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“You’re welcome,” Peter said, taking a step back so Dustin would meet his gaze. “And you need one. You need to be in your right mind. Faith ties you up in knots and drives you crazy on a good day, and today, this is not a good day.”
Dustin’s shoulders fell, as if the weight of the world was bearing down on him the moment he stopped moving. “You never go to a job without a building plan; you need to treat this the same way. You need to do this right.”
“I don’t even know what that is anymore,” Dustin mumbled.
“Well,” Peter said, slowing guiding him back to the truck, “figuring that out would be a great use of four hours.”
Faith sat in the waiting room of the maternity ward, surrounded by smiling faces waiting to meet new bundles of joy. She felt woefully out of place, and her mind kept wandering to one person. One person she was finally ready to reach out to.
She pulled out her phone, hoping the cell number was still the same, and typed out a message. Maybe I was a little too harsh.
Maya’s reply was almost instantaneous. Nope, I’m gonna need more than that.
What do you want me to do? Grovel?
The phone pinged. Some groveling would be nice. Some understanding would be a whole lot better.
Faith sighed and ran frustrated fingers through her hair. I’m sorry but I don’t understand. You’re going to have to explain it to me.
Well, being open to an explanation would be a good place to start.
I am, Faith texted. And finally, after six years, she was. Maybe it wasn’t just hospitals that inspired misunderstandings.
Do you ever write songs FOR people? Faith looked at her phone with confusion. What kind of reply was that?
What?
I’m serious – answer the question. Do you ever write songs for people?
Here it was, first test of her no longer secret life. Could she share it, any of it, with someone else? Even one of her oldest friends?
Before she could decide, another message popped up. Here, I’ll help. We both know Switchblade is about me.
Fine, yes, you got me. I write songs about people I know. It’s how I process things.
What songs?
Faith rolled her eyes, and her thumbs started flying over the keys. If she found this in an interview later, Maya would be dead. You called Switchblade. I wrote Magpie for my lawyer. Lollipop is about Tara and her suicide attempt.
And what did you do with those songs?
I don’t understand the question, Faith replied.
Did they sit in a drawer, gathering dust where no one would ever see them? Did you give them to the people who inspired them to try and start a conversation? No. No, you released them, into the world, for everyone to hear.
Faith thought she knew where this was going, and the next message from Maya confirmed it. How is what I did any different?
She looked up from her phone, out at the happy smiling faces around her, and tried to come up with an argument. She didn’t really have one.
I don’t use my own name. She knew it was a feeble excuse.
Do you think anyone really connects me with that movie? Or that I didn’t know that song was about me, Andy Peters? Nice try. Next.
This is stupid. Yeah, okay, I wrote a three minute song about how mad I was at you. You took my story – MY story, mine – and wrote a screenplay. They made a movie of my life. You didn’t share my story, you ripped it away from me. And I felt betrayed. I still FEEL betrayed.
Faith wiped a tear from her check. No one noticed, all of those around her too eager with anticipation to recognize her pain. Alone even in a crowded room – a sentiment she knew very well.
I’m not saying I was 100% right, but I wasn’t 100% wrong either. You wrote songs, and you didn’t tell any of us about it. We weren’t stupid. We knew exactly when you started, when you began compartmentalizing your life. Just because we weren’t a girl group anymore didn’t mean we weren’t a group of girls that cared.
Faith wanted to escape from the truth of that, but Maya’s words wouldn’t let her. The texts just kept coming. I thought maybe I could write some words to help because speaking them sure as hell wa
sn’t working. So you could see it from a different perspective. So you wouldn’t leave it like that. So you could be whole again.
But you didn’t see any of that, Faith. All you saw was betrayal, and you cut me out. And you missed the whole freaking point. Which was, without embellishment, you had a love story worth writing about, worth living, worth fucking fighting for.
Faith ran from that, distanced herself from it the only way she could. You don’t know the whole story.
Faith, you’re forgetting who you’re talking to. This is Maya – probably the only other person that does.
That’s right, Faith realized, she was. Then you know why I left.
I know Dustin would never hurt you on purpose. And that, in ten years, he’s never moved on.
He hadn’t seemed like he’d moved on. And she couldn’t reconcile his anger at her at all, not with the man that had pushed her away in the midst of a nightmarish night. But he still hadn’t fought for her.
You were at the ranch. You went to see him too, didn’t you?
Yeah
Was it still there?
More tears fell silently from Faith’s eyes. She nodded before remembering Maya wasn’t sitting next to her talking; it was only the voice in her head. It was
The lemon tree had been there, and Dustin had been incensed when he thought there was a stranger anywhere near it.
Faith couldn’t handle this. But it wasn’t there for me. It was there for her, always for her.
Faith, come on. You know that’s not true. She could hear Maya’s voice, her incredulous tone, as she read it. But that was the perk of texting – she didn’t have to hear it if she didn’t want to.
No, she texted, unable to handle anything else. I know no such thing. All I know is that I gave him everything I had, twice. And he let me walk away, twice. I can’t do it again. Maybe we had a love story worth fighting for, but all stories have ends.
Faith turned off her phone and dropped it in her purse. She was done with the past, done with all the people that insisted on reminding her of it. There was a new life coming into the world right down the hall, dozens of them, all shining beacons that the only way to move was forward.
Chapter 23
“Uncle Dust,” a voice murmured, drawing his attention from his tree in the yard. From their tree in the yard.
“Harm? What time is it?”
“Almost sunrise,” she answered. Hell, he’d been standing at the window all night. No wonder his back hurt.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked, watching her hover tentatively in the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“After the last twenty-four hours, I think you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
“Well, it was definitely stupid to take the car out and drive it halfway across the state.” She sighed.
“Yes, it was.” He should have been stern, but he couldn’t muster up the energy. For once he didn’t see how his anger or frustration was going to do anyone any good.
“So obviously I’m sorry for that and for scaring you guys and making you chase after me.”
Dustin cocked his head to the side at her tone and dropped down onto the window seat, beckoning her over to sit beside him. “You didn’t think we’d come after you?”
She shrugged. “No, not really.”
“Why in the world would you think that? Your dad and I would move mountains to find you.”
“I was with Mel, I was safe.” She fidgeted slightly before continuing in a much less confident voice. “And you were so mad at Faith I figured you didn’t want to be anywhere near her, so I thought I could go instead.”
“Harmony, I don’t care if you were with the devil himself; we’d always come for you.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a swift hug. “Why did you go, sweetie?”
“I’m not stupid you know,” she murmured as a reply.
Dustin pulled back and gave her a puzzled look. “Excuse me, Nancy Drew. When did I say you were?”
“It’s so clear, why didn’t you see it?” she said, jumping up to pace the floor. He recognized that maneuver, all the Andrews did it, but hid his smile as he tried to concentrate on her words. “As long as you have all the facts, it’s staring you right in the face. Well, Faith didn’t have all the facts, so I wanted to give them to her.”
“Excuse me?” he asked again.
“I’m not sure what your problem is though,” she muttered almost to herself. “How could you not see she was still crazy in love with you? I don’t even know the whole story, and I can hear it in every one of her songs.”
“It’s been years since I’ve listened to one of her songs.”
“Give me a break.” Harmony scoffed. “Ranch Hand is like your favorite song in the world.”
“And since when does Faith West sing Ranch Hand?” Dustin asked in confusion.
“Come on, Uncle Dust, stop playing. I know.”
“You know what?” He stood, the question and crazy direction of their conversation propelling him to his feet.
“I know,” she said with smug satisfaction. But only for a moment before the color drained from her cheeks. “But it looks like you don’t.”
Her pacing shortened, three steps either way before turning. “Crap, crap, crap, Dad is so going to kill me.”
“Harmony Joyce Andrews,” Dustin boomed in his most serious voice, “you tell me what you’re talking about Right Now.”
“Do I have to?” she squeaked.
“I should say so.”
“Would you accept a bribe instead?” His glare silenced her.
“Well?” he said as her silence stretched on.
“I’m trying to figure out who is going to be madder – you or Dad.”
His grin was slightly ferocious. “Well, I’m the one here right now.”
She stopped pacing and looked him up and down, hands coming to rest on her hips. “I have a question first.” He waved his hand for her to continue. “Are you in love with Faith, or aren’t you?”
What did you tell a teenager about a decade’s old love? He was all in, he’d always been all in, but he’d spent half the night staring at the lemon tree wondering if that was going to be enough. The fact that she’d run into a rainstorm on their wedding night was his fault – a huge misunderstanding that would wound him always – but would they have made it anyway? They’d been young and idealistic and fought about petty things that seemed so unimportant now. Had he created unrealistic hopes, building a bedtime story into something it was never supposed to be?
But that morning… He shook his head thinking about it. That morning, their ten-year anniversary evidently, before lawyers and divorce papers had arrived. There had been something there and not just children replaying familiar routines. He’d laid under her car and thought about what it would be like waking up beside this woman for the rest of his life, not the ideal of ten years ago, but the woman that she was.
The one that unabashedly smelled like lemons and had named their baby girl and knew superheroes and movie stars. The one that gave a girl she didn’t even know, saddened by cancer, a business card to come see what the future could hold. The one whose voice had matured but still managed to touch something deep within him he was afraid to name.
“Yeah, I’m in love with her. God knows I shouldn’t be after all this time, but yeah, I am. I never stopped being in love with her.” It was her; it had always been her.
“So you’re not going to sign the divorce papers?”
“Excuse me,” Dustin said in surprise. “And you know about that how?”
“Umm, that’s probably not so important.”
It was Dustin’s turn for hands on hips in an unamused stance. “I beg to differ.”
Harmony sighed and rolled her eyes. “If I tell you, you’re just going to be really mad, and then we’ll get off topic. Believe me, Dad has already punished me enough for it. You’re good.”
He’d used to be a p
rivate person, right? How had he gone from brooding, secretive uncle to everyone knowing his business? Only one answer – Faith. “I have absolutely no intention of signing any damn divorce papers.”
Harmony smiled, relieved. “I am so happy to hear you say that.”
Dustin’s smile was less pleasant. “Now why don’t we get back to what you seem to know that I don’t.”
She took a deep breath and jumped right in. “Faith West is Andy Peters.”
Dustin just stared at her with a blank expression. “If that was your bombshell, it kind of sucks. I have no idea what that means.”
“Could you be anymore behind the times about the music scene, Uncle Dust?”
“Probably. I listen to those mixes Peter gives me, so at least there is a little pop culture mixed in with my country tunes.”
Harmony’s eyes got a devilish glint. “What kind of songs does he put on them?”
Dustin rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. “They’re compilations, Harmony. I’ve never noticed much of a theme.”
“Well, Dad is obsessed with this songwriter, so I bet all the songs were written by the same person.”
“Makes sense,” he growled.
“Come on, Uncle Dust, put it together,” she admonished.
“Harmony…”
“The songwriter he’s obsessed with, the same one who wrote Ranch Hand, is Andy Peters. And Andy Peters is…”
“Faith West.” He exhaled the words on a sigh, barely sure he believed it. He’d been listening to her music all this time; he’d never actually stopped.
Ranch Hand had always felt so familiar. He played that song a lot when drunk, wondering how he’d ended up alone, never having the kind of love the song talked about. He’d been a ranch hand; where was his fiery love affair?
Dustin walked around behind his desk to the bookcase and started pulling out CD cases, searching for the ones Peter had been giving him. The first one, he realized, was right after he heard Dustin record his bedtime story. Sneaky bastard.
Harmony shuffled silently out of the room. Her work here was done.
Faith was not alone in the waiting room for long. By the time Barrett made an appearance, his worried expression showing he was much more than just a bodyguard, other family members had started showing up. There was so much commotion Faith had no more room for thoughts of Maya, Dustin, or her own trip to the hospital.
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