“What are you, my dad?” She watched her classmates dancing the night away, watched them laughing with one another, connecting. She felt none of that.
“Well, I’d like to think I’m more of a big brother, thank you, very much,” Tank said, then sighed. “Look, if he’s bothering you, he and I could have a little chat, you know?” Tank’s somber expression reflected his seriousness.
Georgia faced him. “You know, you scare me sometimes with how protective you are.” She smiled. “Listen, you are a dear, dear friend. You were to my dad, and always have been the same to me. And I want you to know how much I appreciate your offer, but I think I can handle this.”
The big man smiled and tapped his knuckles on the counter of the bar. “I’m here if you need me.” His gaze lifted to the room filled with guests. “Looks like you’re going to get that chance to handle things soon.” He walked away as Justin made his way through the crowd toward her.
“I know you’re working, but it’s the last song and I wondered if you’d care to dance?” He held out his hand.
Caught without her shoes or excuse to turn him down, she removed her apron and bent down to retrieve her sandals.
“Don’t bother,” he said, toeing off his shiny oxfords. “These things are killing me.” He took her hand. “Come on.” He led her to a cluster of lighted potted palms. “You know, I haven’t had the chance to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”
He drew her close and she remembered the heat of his body against hers. The music began and her heart stopped at the familiar song. She lowered her head, reprimanding herself for the tears the song prompted. It had been one that Caleb sang, knowing how much she loved the Garth Brooks tune “The Dance”.
“Georgie?” Justin searched her face. “Honey, what is it?”
She sniffed and tried to hold in her emotions. “That song…it’s…it’s hard for me. Caleb--” She had no sooner spoken his name when Justin stepped away.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t. But it’s time you did.” She pulled him outside into the garden. One couple, talking quietly, meandered back inside as she led him to a concrete bench. “Please sit down. I need to share this.”
He in his stocking feet, her barefoot, they sat side-by-side on the bench. “You remember me telling you how I was feeling vulnerable that night with your brother?”
He nodded.
“Well, it’s because I’d just found out I was pregnant.” She cleared her throat. “Let me start over.”
Justin looked at her. “Georgia, you don’t owe me any explanations.”
She took his hand. “I know, but I want you to understand. I need you to understand, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’d been taking on more and more responsibility that year at the bar. Dad was getting forgetful. His health hadn’t been good. He’d been actively looking for acts to bring in for the weekends. Caleb was on tour, trying to get a start. Playing every honkytonk from here to Texas, trying to build a following.” She smiled at the memory of their first meeting. “He had dreams of making it big in Nashville.”
Georgia looked over to see Justin bent forward, his hands clasped over his knees as she’d seen him do countless times before. She loved how he focused on listening when she really needed him.
“We fell in love. Hard and fast,” she continued. “He asked me to go with him, finish out his tour, then come to Nashville.” She sighed. “Of course, I couldn’t leave, not with Dad’s health in decline. He needed me.”
Justin nodded.
“He made a promise to come back after the tour was done. By that time, he said I could get some help for Dad and go with him to Nashville.” She paused, having never told another soul aside from Aunt Mae and Tank what had happened next. Georgia drew in a breath, summoning her strength. “Two days later, I got a call from Caleb’s manager. He told me that the old bus they’d been driving had been broadsided by a semi-truck coming onto the highway from a mountain on-ramp. He’d apparently fallen asleep at the wheel and pressed the accelerator. He hit the side of the bus and pushed them both through the guardrail and over the side of the mountain ravine. There were no survivors.”
She looked up and met Justin’s horrified expression. “Georgie,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry.” He hesitated at first, then slid closer and took her in his arms.
She pulled from his embrace and continued. “About a month later, around the time your brother was to get married, I discovered I was pregnant.” She chuckled quietly. “I suppose the fact that I started showing a few months later didn’t help the rumors any.”
Justin shook his head. “I had no idea about any of this.”
She shrugged. “Why would you? By then, you’d already moved to Montana and were quite happy to be there, as I understood.”
“Even after how I treated you after the funeral, you were curious about my happiness?” he asked with a half-smile.
“Your old coach came into the bar now and again.” She gave him a soft smile and continued. “But there’s something else.” She looked at him. “When Kolby was three, I started noticing little bruises on him. But, you know, with him being an active little kid, I didn’t pay much attention to it. And then one day he had a seizure and, while in the hospital, they diagnosed him with ALL—acute lymphoblastic leukemia.” She wrung her hands clasped in her lap. “Apparently, it’s one of the common childhood cancers…who knew, right?”
He took her hand, brushing his thumb gently over her knuckles. Calmed by the small bit of connection, she gathered the strength to continue. “It has something to do with the blood cells, primarily. He’s already been through so much just to get him to a point of remission. Now the goal is to keep him there, so he can rebuild healthy cells.”
“Jesus, he’s only five.” Justin squeezed her hand.
She nodded, holding back the emotions this conversation had stirred inside her—feelings of guilt, anger, and a profound sadness. If she were to lose Kolby now—Georgia shut her eyes, pushing the thought away. “They tell me that he has a good chance at survival. A few years ago, they gave kids like him a ten percent chance. Now, it’s about ninety percent or better.”
“Is there anything I can do, Georgie?” Justin said. “Any way I can help?” His blue eyes studied hers. “My God, you’re a remarkable woman to have managed all this and a business on your own.”
“I’ve had help. Tank is my rock at work. Aunt Mae”--she shook her head--“I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
He held her face and kissed her softly. “I love you. I said it earlier, and I meant it, Georgia Langley. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you. I want to make this work. I want to be there for you and Kolby.” He held her gaze. “Listen, my ranch back in End of the Line is a beautiful little place. I’ve got plenty of room, lots of space for a little kid to play. Lots of fresh air. There’s even an equestrian ranch where I work that I bet Kolby would love. And I’ve got a few horses, I could teach Kolby to ride.” He smiled.
Georgia swallowed the lump in her throat and touched his cheek. “You are the sweetest man. But I can’t just leave the business and Aunt Mae.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “But I love you for asking.”
He grabbed her hands. “Okay, at least promise me that you’ll come up for a visit. Bring Kolby. See what you think. Honey, it’s what that song is all about—not taking one minute for granted, or the things you have right in front of you. Because none of us knows how much time we’ve been given.”
She leaned her forehead to his. “You’re a good man, Justin. You always have been.”
“I want to be more to you, Georgie,” he said quietly. “If you’ll let me.”
She offered him a tender kiss as the houselights in the ballroom came up. “Stay with me tonight. I don’t want to be alone.”
***
He woke in the double bed of the apartment at Langley’s alone, his body still charged from making love into the wee hours of the mornin
g with Georgia. He caught the scent of coffee brewing, bacon in a frying pan, and slipped on his boxer briefs before following his nose to the tiny apartment kitchen. He discovered her at the stove, scrambling eggs.
Wrapping his arms around her, he nuzzled her neck. “You smell like bacon.” He kissed the ticklish spot beneath her ear. “And you’re wearing my T-shirt.”
She glanced up at him, set the pan aside, and turned off the stove. “I guess you’re just going to have to wrestle me for it.” She grinned and side-stepped around him, taking off down the short hall.
“You know I made state in wrestling my junior year,” he called out as he started after her. His shirt, flying through the air, slapped him in the face. God almighty, he loved this woman.
Two hours later, they sat on the couch eating fresh scrambled eggs and warmed up coffee. Justin took another stab at suggesting she come up to the ranch, certain that once she experienced the air, the space, the friendly town--and hopefully his presence--she’d consider making it permanent. He had his work cut out for him; he was no fool. She wouldn’t ever leave the bar—it was her dad’s legacy, and she’d just gotten a good start on her new catering enterprise.
“Look, Georgie. It’s summer. Things are a little slow around here. Maybe you and Kolby could come up for a week. I could take him fly fishing.”
She leaned over and touched his hand. “You’re sweet, Justin. But I don’t see how--”
“Yeah, the business.” He eyed her. “Fine. Then I guess you leave me no choice. I’ll go back to End of the Line, make a few arrangements, and move back here as soon as possible. I can teach anywhere.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to be Montana.”
“No, I won’t allow it. You love it there.”
“I love you more,” he said.
“Please, this is happening so fast. I need some time to think things through,” she said.
“Okay.” He nodded, but he wasn’t giving up. “I’ll give you a month.” He reached for her and drew her onto his lap. “A month, without this.” He framed her face and moved his mouth over hers, catching her heated gaze. “And this--” He slipped his hands beneath her shirt, raking his thumbs across her unencumbered breasts.
“This isn’t fair,” she said with a sigh.
“Oh, sweetheart, I don’t plan to make this easy for you.” He turned her beneath him on the couch.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” She smiled, sliding down the zipper of his jeans.
“Yes, I am. About you, darlin’.” And he proceeded to remind her what she’d miss--what they’d both miss--when he left.
***
“It’s good to see your face around here again,” Betty said, handing him a fresh cup of coffee. He hadn’t asked for it, but Betty must have felt he needed it. Truth was, he hadn’t slept in days with Georgia on his mind.
“Thanks, Betty, it’s good to be back. Forgot how clean the air is up here.” Justin grinned. God knows he’d spent enough time sitting on his front porch swing at night, debating calling Georgia, trying to give her time to think things through.
The bell above the diner clattered and in walked Rein Mackenzie, his brother Dalton, and another man who he’d seen from time to time around town, mostly in the company of the Kinnison brothers.
“Hey, Coach.” Rein spotted him and walked to the booth. “You still want me to take a look at building some new benches in the locker room up there at school?”
Justin nodded. “Definitely. Maybe sometime next week we could head up there and I could let you take a look at the old benches. See what I have in mind, or if it’ll work. Then I’ll present the bid to the school board.”
Dalton and the other man joined them. Rein looked over his shoulder. “Coach, you remember my brother Dalton, and this is Hank Richardson.”
Hank held out his hand in greeting. “I’m a pseudo-transplant from Chicago,” he said, grinning. “I run a private plane charter business.”
“Transplant from Atlanta, Georgia,” Justin offered, shaking the man’s hand. “Private plane? That’s impressive. Also, good to know.” He wondered how long of a flight it was to Atlanta.
“We went to school with Hank. Lately, he’s been here so much, we think he ought to just make the move.” Dalton grinned and clamped his hand down on Hank’s shoulder.
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot to consider when making a major move.” Hank shot Dalton a friendly grin. “Good to meet you, Coach.”
Justin sensed there was more to that story, but given due time he was likely to hear about it--probably from Betty.
“We’ll talk later,” Rein said, touching the end of his Stetson.
The door opened again, sending the bell clanging happily after another patron. Looking up, he saw his friend Leslie hurrying over to the booth. She dropped her massive purse on the chair and slid in across from him.
“Sorry I’m late.” She held her hands up in defense. “Consulting a young woman who’s been through the mill. Just moved here.” She glanced thoughtfully at the three men who’d just taken their seats a few tables away, and then shrugged. “You can’t rush that kind of conversation.” Breathing out a short sigh, she folded her hands and looked at him. “And how about you? Heard anything from Georgia?”
He’d told her everything--well, almost everything--that had happened over the Atlanta weekend. “It’s been more than a week. I gave her a month to decide.” He cringed and shook his head. “Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.”
His friend laid her hand on his. “I could tell you to have faith. I could tell you that what will be, will be. And both are true, to a certain extent. But right now, it doesn’t keep you from wondering if you did the right thing, laying your soul bare to someone.”
He met her concerned gaze. “You’re right about that. I bet I’ve asked myself a hundred times—what the heck were you thinking?”
His friend smiled. “But if you never take the risk, you’ll never reap the reward.”
“I guess that’s supposed to make me feel better?” He smiled ruefully. It didn’t really, but her concern and friendship did. Just having someone to bounce his troubles off of was a great relief.
“Well, that’s what they told us in psych class,” she answered with a grin.
“Good evening, Reverend,” Betty said, bringing a fresh pot of coffee and two clean mugs to the table. She eyed Justin’s untouched coffee. “Figured you needed a fresh cup, given the way you been staring at that one since you sat down.” She smiled as she placed two steaming cups in front of them. “Now, may I recommend tonight’s special—Jerry’s chicken n’ dumplings with cornbread and your choice of cooked greens or a house salad.” She looked from one to the other. “You all look like you’re trying to solve world peace over here.”
Leslie smiled. “Make that two specials, Betty. With pie. Solving world peace is hard work.”
Betty glanced at Justin. “Sounds like matters of the heart.” She nodded. “Comfort and joy, coming right up.”
Justin looked at Leslie. “You realize I’m going to have to add an extra mile to my morning run?”
She waved away his comment. “That’s what friends are for.”
Chapter Six
It’d been well over a week or better since Justin returned to Montana. She’d staved off Kolby’s pleas to go for a visit so he could ride horses and he’d been exemplary in keeping his toys picked up and eating his vegetables to try to influence her decision.
Aunt Mae had said little, but once or twice had let slip that fresh air and visiting a real ranch might be good for his health.
Georgia missed Justin. She missed their late-night talks after they made love, how he made her laugh, how he’d listen patiently when she needed someone to hear her concerns. He lived honestly, loved with all his heart, and he wanted to take care of her and Kolby—he wanted to become a family.
The thought crossed her mind, too, that she was young enough to have another child. But with what losses she’d been through—her fat
her and Caleb--and battling her son’s deadly disease, her heart was weary, afraid. It seemed as though everything she’d ever loved had been taken from her, too soon.
Friday afternoon, she decided to go to the bar before opening. Rolling up her sleeves, she embraced the solitude and dove into a deep cleansing which often helped her think things through. Today, however, the silence seemed deafening. She felt alone and lonely.
Determined to get past it, she flipped on the old radio and hummed along as she set to the task of polishing down the old mahogany bar and its brass work. She remembered her father’s excitement when he’d found it at an auction. She smiled at the memory. Lord, how he loved coming here every night. The friends he’d made, the fights he’d averted, the aspiring acts to whom he’d given a venue in which to play their music.
“And now it’s time to give away tickets for that big tour y’all have been waiting for.” The radio DJ’s voice crackled over the airwaves. “We’ve got two tickets to see the great G.B. in person to the first caller who can name this tune.”
The familiar piano melody started and Georgia’s hand stopped. Was it fate that this song should play at this moment?
Her gaze lifted, her life clarifying in the next instant. She scanned the empty tables, the old dart board where countless patrons had challenged each other, the small stage where she’d first watched Caleb and his band—along with dozens of others—in search for their dream. Langley’s…this business…had been her dad’s dream.
What was her dream? For herself? For her son?
“You know, I’ve considered many times talking to you about this idea I had. Never got around to it, until now. So, I figure, I’ll give it a shot. What can you do, fire me?”
Startled from her reverie, Georgia turned to find Tank standing at the other end of the bar.
“I wondered if you’d ever thought about going into partnership with me? I could chip in half and take on more of the management.” He walked over, leaned his elbow on the bar, and looked at her. “It’d give you a little nest egg—to, I don’t know, do some traveling. Maybe spend a little more time with your son?”
Georgia On My Mind (A Magnolias and Moonshine novella Book 7) Page 9
