Peace in the Valley

by Ruth Logan Herne

  So when she succumbed to the lure a few years later, he’d seen the truth firsthand.

  He hadn’t been enough after all. He’d never been enough. Maybe nothing was enough once the brain got a taste of drug-induced highs.

  He’d been left on his own by his parents and his beloved wife. No matter what, the drugs came first, and his heart was left to wither into nothingness.

  “You are a sorry sight.”

  Trey swung around as Nick came his way.

  “Don’t let the girls see that face,” Nick continued. “They’ll never be able to sleep tonight.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Hey.” Nick didn’t shut up, but he stopped teasing Trey. “What’s wrong? What’s happened? I’ll be glad to punch out someone’s lights for you. Say the name and consider it done.”

  “Lucy.”

  Nick rolled his eyes. “Well, I can’t punch Lucy. First, she’s nice, and she’s got cute kids, and I think the Double S has done enough in the past to mess her up, don’t you?” He stood square in front of Trey, blocking him into a corner. “What’s going on?”

  “Her singing impressed Ed.”

  Nick looked confused. “Her singing impresses a lot of folks. How is that bad?”

  “He’s talking to her about a career.” He punched the nearby stable wall with his fist and got nothing but really sore knuckles for his trouble. “In music. In Nashville.”

  “Lucy going to Nashville? For real?”

  “If Ed has his way.”

  “With all the kids?”

  Trey scowled.

  “Oh, man.” Nick crossed his arms and contemplated Trey. “It’s not the going to Nashville that spooked you. It’s the idea of Lucy having a singing career like—”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “Cathy’s,” Nick finished. “You’re letting this push a lot of buttons, Trey.”

  “I’m not the one pushing the buttons. She could have just told him no. Do you know what the odds are of making it in Nashville, even with a good agent? Slim. Real slim. Almost none actually. Every label has cut back with record sales down. There’s no getting around digital sharing, and it’s a night-and-day kind of job to make enough money to just scrape by for a new artist.”

  “Did you assess that risk when you left college and headed to Nashville?”

  “No, but I didn’t have four kids to raise either.”

  “That raises the stakes.”

  “And multiplies the risks.”

  “Talk to her about it,” Nick suggested. “She’ll listen to you. I think she actually likes you, though I can’t figure why.” He grinned when Trey glared at him. “You’ve got two choices. Pout in the barn like a four-year-old or talk to the girl.” He fake-punched Trey’s arm. “Take it from a guy who’s been in your shoes not too long ago. Talking to the girl is best.”

  He couldn’t.

  Oh, he knew the drill. He needed to step back and assess what emotions were getting pushed and why, then disengage them mentally. He’d gone over it in therapy with Clara. He’d witnessed it in others. Nick was right. But there was no way he could approach this subject right now and not come off like a complete and fairly insecure jerk. “I can’t. Not right now.”

  Nick sighed. “Why do Staffords always have to be the slowest learners on the planet?”

  Trey said nothing.

  Nick jutted his chin toward the yard beyond the barn. “When does the city slicker go to the airport?”

  “Midafternoon.”

  Nick eyed Ed’s designer suit and his Italian leather loafers through the broad barn door. He didn’t sigh again. He didn’t have to. He kept his face placid. “Can’t be soon enough.”

  Right now Trey was feeling the same way.

  Sam had purposely invited Ed to the Double S to dangle doubt and money in front of Trey. He’d thwarted that volley the night before.

  Today’s barrage wasn’t so easy to dodge.

  Lucy had parked the van nearest the driveway, as if keeping an escape option open, and he couldn’t blame her. Belle and Noah came racing out of the house as he and Nick crossed the driveway. They’d changed into play clothes, and as they dashed for the playground equipment at the far end of the yard, they set an example of unfettered joy. Sweet and pure and uncluttered by grown-up mistakes. If only it were that easy.

  He went inside.

  Sunday morning smells filled the air. Cinnamon and apples, a September staple. Coffee, rich and robust. A pot of potatoes covered one burner of the stainless steel stove, and a pan of barbecued beans sat waiting to go into the oven.

  The four older kids hurried through the kitchen, ready to claim the outdoors for the last few days of summer vacation. Lucy and Elsa followed, chatting, with neatly folded church clothes in their hands.

  Lucy saw him and stopped abruptly. She’d been talking easily.

  His presence made her hesitate. She looked at him, then dropped her eyes to the plastic bag Elsa held out. “Great, thanks. I’m going to put these in the van now, so I don’t forget.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  She didn’t answer, and her face looked sad, which only added to the weight he carried.

  Elsa backed toward the opposite kitchen entrance. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. I’m going to get changed myself.”

  Trey held the kitchen door open for Lucy. They crossed the broad side porch, then the graveled drive to her car, silent. She opened the back of the van, set the clothes inside, and then just stood there with the hatch raised.

  “Lucy, I’m sorry.”

  She kept her attention on absolutely nothing in the van.

  “That whole talk of Nashville, of you singing.” He thought about what to say, then confessed, “It caught me off guard.”

  “Caught you off guard?” She turned now, fast. “Your agent compliments me, says nice things about my singing and my appearance, and you take offense. That says one of two things. Either you can’t handle your agent’s split attention, or you have absolutely no confidence in the idea that I can make it in Nashville. So which is it? Your wounded superego or my lack of ability? I’m dying to know.”

  “Neither.” He went to rub his hand across the back of his neck, made the sunburn sting even more, and scowled half at the pain, half at her assumption. “You’re more talented than a lot of folks making money in Music City, and Ed has lots of clients who’ve managed to make him a very comfortable living. I’m friends with a bunch of them. It’s not about Nashville, not really. Well…” He stared off at the rising hills to the north. “Some, I guess.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “It’s a great city. I love it. But being a newbie in Nashville isn’t an easy path, and there are four kids to consider.”

  She stepped back and closed the hatch harder than needed. “So now I’m selfish and inconsiderate of my family. Somehow that’s not making this better.”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying it’s hard, Lucy. It’s hard to get a grip on a musical career and keep that grip.”

  “You wanna know hard?” She faced him now, and those pretty blue eyes blazed hot. “Being raised by a miserable man who belittled you and your mother at every turn, blocking every normal thing a kid would like to do. That’s hard. Then making stupid teenage mistakes and ending up married to a man who was a younger version of your father, only you were too young and gullible to see it. That’s hard.

  “And then being a single mom to three impressionable kids, stuck in a hand-to-mouth existence because of your own choices, and wearing that guilt like a yoke across your shoulders. So don’t spew rich-man nice-isms at me about tough times and difficult choices. I’ve lived them. I’ve survived. And no one will ever do me the disservice of making my decisions for me, ever again.”

  She didn’t wait to hear his response. She strode off, tough and angry, insulted by his reaction.

  Anger rose like A.M. mountain fog.

  He wasn’t trying to hurt her. He was trying to protect her. Her and those
kids.

  She didn’t know how tough things got with late-night gigs every night, and the label pushing you to extremes. Sure, the money made it easier if you made it big, but if you didn’t?

  It was taking whatever job you could, with whatever crazy hours were offered, day in, day out.

  It can be, his conscience reminded him in a somewhat snarky voice. But that’s not the real reason you’re upset. Tell her about Cathy. Talk to her. And then be man enough to leave it alone.

  He took Ed to the airport a few hours later. He didn’t ask Lucy to come along, and she was doing a real good job of ignoring him, so that made his escape easy. Too easy.

  It was a quiet ride to Sea-Tac, and a quieter ride back to the Double S. When he pulled into the ranch drive, Lucy’s van was gone. The kids were gone.

  He glanced around, decided he didn’t want to answer questions, and drove right back down the driveway. He passed Nick’s new house, just begun. He passed the arched sign at the ranch entrance with the two wrought iron Ss centered at the top.

  He drove to the cabin, but didn’t go in.

  Restlessness spurred him to work. He hauled an ax out of the shed, sharpened the blade, and split firewood for as long as daylight allowed. He didn’t want to think right now, and he sure as heck didn’t want to remember. Bone-wearying, mindless activity suited the moment, and when he finally fell into bed, he knew he needed to fix this. But with old emotions tying him in knots, he had no idea how.

  Lucy tucked Ed Boddy’s card behind a refrigerator magnet the next morning.

  He hadn’t pushed or prodded the previous afternoon, but she caught him watching her from time to time. When he did approach her to say good-bye, she’d extended her hand, knowing Trey was nearby. “Nice to meet you, Ed.” Just that, pure and simple. Trey hadn’t invited her along on the ride to Sea-Tac, and she wasn’t about to ask.

  But then the agent took it further of his own accord. He slipped her the card with a promise. “The pleasure is all mine, Lucy. I’ll be in touch.”

  Years ago, those words would have spurred hope in her heart.

  Now consternation mixed with the hope because she’d matured. Trey was right. The music industry wasn’t easy. But what was? “All right.”

  She didn’t encourage him, but she wasn’t about to slam the door shut either, because sometimes God opened doors for a reason. And a door like this deserved prayer and thought.

  The crunch of Elsa’s tires said she’d have to think about this later. They were taking Dakota, Cheyenne, Cade, and Cody back-to-school shopping in Ellensburg. Ashley had been invited to work with Isabo for the day, and Angelina was keeping Noah and Belle at the Double S.

  “Boys. Elsa’s here.”

  “Do we have to go do dumb clothes shopping?” Cade hooked his thumbs into his front jeans pockets like he saw the ranch hands do and faced her. “Can’t I just go help Trey?”

  “Cowboys need an education,” she told him. “And to get one of those you need new clothes. And if you give me a hard time, we won’t worry about visiting the Double S for a while. Got it?”

  “Yes.” Head down, he scuffed his way to the car.

  Cody had already climbed in. He’d grabbed the middle seat with Dakota, so Cade had to climb through them to get to the back seat.

  Cheyenne was reading a book. She set it aside when Cade sat down.

  “Do you wish we could just stay home and ride too?”

  His face lightened instantly. “Yes!”

  “Same here. I’d much rather be in the barn, taking care of the new baby calves. I loved having the puppies around. They were so much fun.”

  “I miss them,” Cade confessed, and Lucy caught Cheyenne’s nod in response.

  “Me too. But Dad says you have to get used to the comings and goings on a ranch if you’re going to work it. Animals come, they go, and then there’s more. But I sure hated seeing that last puppy drive off down the road.”

  “I’ve never had a dog.” Sadness gripped Cade’s voice with the admission. He kept his voice soft, but Lucy heard every word. “I want one someday. Just a nice dog to roll around with.”

  “Like Achilles.” Elsa’s big, hairy mixed breed was quite at home on the Double S. “My dad didn’t let us help with the dogs before. And we couldn’t do a lot of stuff. But now we can, and you get to come over a lot. If you can’t have your own dog, you can share ours, okay? No one will mind.”

  And they wouldn’t, Lucy realized.

  She’d mind, because she didn’t like feeling obligated, but that shouldn’t become the kids’ problem. Cheyenne had shed light on the issue from youthful simplicity.

  “Elsa, can we have the radio on back here?”

  “Sure.” Elsa hit a button as she pulled out onto the road. “Are you ready to tackle this?” She kept her voice low and light, so Lucy did the same.

  “Looking forward to it actually. There hasn’t been a lot of girlfriend time the past few years.”

  “I hear you. Me either. Of my own accord,” Elsa acknowledged. She hit the interstate and eased into end-of-summer traffic. “And I’ve never taken kids back-to-school shopping before.”

  “A novice.”

  “Of the highest order. Which means feel free to offer advice as needed.”

  “Me?” Lucy kept her voice soft but filled with question. “Advising a psychologist? There’s a role reversal for you.”

  “How about friend advising friend?” Elsa smiled her way. “I like level playing fields.”

  “I do too, but they can be a rarity in the real world.”

  “Your past with Sam underscores that.” Elsa pondered the thought as she shifted lanes. “But sometimes that imbalance is our own doing, isn’t it? When we apply skewed reasoning?”

  Was it?

  “God doesn’t assess land holdings or bank accounts. He sees us. Our hearts, our souls. He sees the person we strive to be. That’s pretty level.”

  “Well, he’s God.”

  “Exactly. So we can’t expect humans to be omniscient. We need to allow ourselves—and others—time to figure things out.”

  “You’re talking about Trey.”

  “Or not.”

  Yesterday’s emotions rose within her. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

  Elsa kept driving. The kids in the middle seat were busily making pictures to illustrate a story they’d made up the day before, and the older two kids were quietly talking horses, dogs, cats, and cows in the back seat.

  “I made a promise to myself years ago. That I’d make my own way in this world, me and God and good choices. And that’s what I intend to do.”

  Angelina would have made a cryptic remark here. Elsa stayed quiet, and Lucy decided she might have preferred the snarky reply. “I’m not being stubborn.” The minute she said it she realized she was being purposely stubborn. “Well, I am, but for good reason.”

  “Our reasons always seem good to us.” Elsa switched lanes again and signaled for the upcoming exit. “But when we examine them from other perspectives, the view can be quite different.”

  “Trey told you that Ed approached me about singing.”

  Elsa nodded.

  “He seemed insulted by the idea.”

  “Insulted or worried?”

  “I wasn’t about to take time to find out.” Lucy clutched her small handbag with both hands. “Years ago I would have been thrilled by an agent’s interest. My husband thought that making it big would be the end to all of our problems. In retrospect I realize that nothing could be further from the truth. Problems dog our steps no matter where we are. But that’s for me to decide. Not the gorgeous guy next door who’s never had to worry about food on the table or shoes on kids’ feet.”

  “Did you ask him why?”

  She hadn’t. She’d gotten angry and treated him like an outcast for the rest of the day.

  “I don’t know Trey well, yet,” Elsa said.

  Neither did Lucy, not really. She knew Hank/Trey, the kind, funny, har
dworking, unafraid-to-get-dirty cowboy next door. Superstar Trey seemed to be a different thing entirely.

  “But he’s suffered traumas. His parents. His wife. Trying so hard to show what can be done is an exhausting task because it never really ends. With no endgame in sight, it’s got to be hard to balance what was with what is.” She pulled into a parking space and turned Lucy’s way. “You make choices based on experience, right?”

  “Life can be the world’s best and harshest teacher.”

  “Yes.” Understanding softened Elsa’s tone. “Trey’s got such love inside him. He’s a true tender heart; those songs he writes come straight from who he is. Who God created him to be. But there’s another side to Trey, Lucy, the side he doesn’t let the world see. The side that fears loss and abandonment and love not being returned. That’s a gaping hole for a grown man to fill.”

  Trey feared nothing. He’d said so often enough, but the minute Elsa said the words, Lucy recognized the truth in them.

  “He’s looking for peace, Lucy. Just like the rest of us. And it’s an elusive hunt, especially when the world thinks you have it all. That makes the loneliness even harder to endure.”

  Like the hymn, a few nights back, the poignant words about finding peace in the valley. He’d brought those words to life in the emotions of the song. Why didn’t she see that he wasn’t just singing a sweet old song, but that the words poured out of him, about him? Was she that self-absorbed? “Elsa, I—”

  Elsa waved her off as the kids scrambled to get out of their seats. “Just something to think about when there’s a quiet moment. Which”—she made a doubtful face as Cheyenne and Cade climbed out of the back seat—“probably won’t be for a while.”

  Lucy would have never taken Elsa as a shopaholic. Clearly she was mistaken. By two o’clock she was ready to drop into a chair, put her feet up, and stick earplugs in her ears because the boys had started getting grouchy an hour before, and grumpy boys were loud.

  “One more stop,” Elsa promised. “And then ice cream.”