by Liz Isaacson
“Right,” he said. “And when will I meet Shelley?”
“She’s in makeup right now,” she said. “Which is where you should be.” She lifted the lid on the box, revealing a black leather belt that Wyatt would’ve bought for himself whether it was from a celebrity or not.
He whistled, and took the belt out. “And they come in six adjustable sizes,” he said, reciting what he’d memorized from the product sheets he’d been given to study.
“That one’s your size,” she said. “So you’ll replace your belt with that one on-air, and we’d love to have you show viewers how to exchange the buckles.” She dropped her gaze to the huge championship belt buckle Wyatt currently wore, and when she met his eyes again, he nodded.
“Yeah, I’m prepared for that.” Wyatt felt as prepared as he could be, and he followed Georgia to makeup, where he met a blonde named Shelley who would help him through the segment.
An hour later, he stepped onto the set in front of at least thirty people, most of whom wore headsets, carried clipboards, and wore professional clothes. He felt underdressed in his jeans and long-sleeved shirt, despite his jeweled belt buckle.
“Ready?” Shelley asked, immediately pressing her lips together one last time.
“Absolutely,” he said.
“Try to smile,” she said, and Wyatt just blinked at her. She may have been in front of a camera for a while, but he’d been playing live crowds for two decades. He didn’t need to be told to smile. He knew he appeared to be standoffish, even a bit tired of the whole show, before it started.
But once it did…Wyatt flipped a switch and his charm and charisma flowed from him. He didn’t know how he did it. It just happened.
“And we’re on in thirty,” someone said. Wyatt looked down at the screens embedded in the counter in front of him. A shelf just below that held a bottle of water, and he reached for it and took a drink.
“Ten,” someone said. “Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four….”
Wyatt had been on television before, and when the director’s fist balled up, it was ground zero, and he flipped the switch.
“Hello, y’all,” Shelley said, almost pouring it on a little too much. “Welcome to this special edition of the Digital Shopping Channel, where we have so many surprises for you today. Many of you know this tall drink of water standing next to me.” She giggled, and Wyatt played his part perfectly and chuckled too. “As Wyatt Walker, the winningest cowboy in rodeo history. Is that right, Wyatt. Winningest?”
“That’s what they tell me,” he said, shooting a grin at her and then the camera. “And we’re going to be going through my affordable line of western wear for the cowboys and cowgirls in your life today, as well as revealing a brand new item that isn’t available anywhere else.”
“That’s right,” Shelley said seamlessly, and it was a thrill to work with someone with experience and know-how. “But we’ll tell more about that later.” She gestured to his body. “You’re wearing your clothes. Tell us what you have on.”
And just like that, his products were front and center. He did all the things he was supposed to do—he signed cowboy hats while Shelley spoke to buyers live on the air, personalizing the inside of the hat bands for their loved ones for Christmas. He smiled and laughed and cracked jokes.
He mentioned the maker of the clothes and hats, two companies that were owned by the same parent company and had a reputation for high-quality items. “So you’ll be getting something of value,” he said. “Which is important to me. I’m still a working cowboy, and I don’t want my hat to let me down while I’m out training with the horses.”
He spoke to callers, and when it was time to reveal the belts, he was the one to lift the lid. He changed out his belt and added the new buckle to it.
The two hours passed in a blink of an eye, and with twenty seconds left, he looked right into the camera, thinking of his father, his momma, and Marcy.
“Thanks for bein’ here with us,” he said, making sure he didn’t say “today” or “this morning,” as DSC would show this special several times over the next two months as they went into prime shopping season.
“And just before we go, I want to tell you a little about why I wave my hat the way I do after every ride.” His throat tightened. He’d never revealed this to anyone before, and now he was doing it in front of thousands. “I started waving like this as a tribute to my father, who gave me everything I have today. It meant thank you. I love you, Dad. I knew he was watching, because he watched all of my rodeo runs.”
He took a moment to breathe and center himself. “And over the years, it became a wave to my mother, letting her know I was alive and happy and okay. It meant thank you. I love you, Momma.”
He swept his hat off his head and held it at his chest. “And then, it started being about the fans, the people who showed up and cheered for me, gave me a piece of themselves by sharing their energy with me as I rode. And so now, when you wave your Wyatt Walker hat, you too can say, Thank you. I love you.”
Wyatt lifted his hat up in his signature wave. He moved his wrist in his signature up-and-down move, the hat flapping at the camera. “And now I add my wife to the sentiment, because she supports me in everything, and I couldn’t be here without my sweet Marcy. So thank you, Marce. I love you.”
His throat felt extremely dry. He continued to wave his hat, and it seemed to go on for several seconds before someone said, “And we’re out.”
He lowered his arm and looked at Shelley. “That was a joy,” he said, taking her into a hug. “Thank you.”
“Oh.” She patted him on his upper shoulders. “Well, you’re very welcome.”
Jim appeared on set, and he ushered Wyatt down out of the spotlights. The switch got flipped off, and Wyatt took the towel and cold bottle of water his manager offered. He wiped his face, and drank, and utter exhaustion overcame him. This was always how his body reacted after such a high for so long.
Outside, two cars waited at the curb, and Wyatt realized he’d be going back to the hotel alone. He grabbed onto Jim, and said, “Thanks for everything, Jim.”
“I didn’t know that about your hat,” he said, pounding Wyatt on the back. “You’re such a good man, Wyatt.”
Wyatt stepped back, his smile a bit shaky now. “Thank you. I really appreciate that.”
“I thought your hat wave was a brilliant piece of marketing to bind you to fans. It means so much more now that I know it was something else.”
“It was both,” Wyatt said. “The message is always the same.”
“Two important messages,” Jim said, putting his hand on the door handle. He paused and turned back to Wyatt. He removed his own cowboy hat—one of Wyatt’s, of course—and waved it at him.
Thank you, Wyatt.
I love you.
He nodded and allowed his driver to open his door so he could slide in the back seat. Wyatt sighed and pulled his phone out, wanting to call Marcy and say those two messages he’d just given to the world.
He did appreciate her, as she’d given her permission for him to come on this tour, even when she wasn’t happy about it. And he did love her.
He flipped his phone over and over, only looking up when the driver said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s nice meeting you too.”
He understood what Marcy meant about sharing him with America, but he had no idea how to fix that.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Marcy rushed out of the hangar, well-aware that she had grease under her fingernails still. The hangar was a mess besides, and she vowed to come back after lunch and clean it up.
But it was Tuesday, and she had lunch with Penny every Tuesday. She tapped her phone a couple of times after she got behind the wheel. “On my way,” she said into her phone. “Sorry, I’ll be a few minutes late.”
She didn’t bother to check to make sure the voice-to-text feature worked. She sent the text and threw the car into reverse. Penn
y was used to Marcy running late, but she still didn’t want to disappoint Wyatt’s mother.
She was aware how odd it was to be sneaking off to lunch with her estranged husband’s mother. But she’d called Penny weeks ago, and the woman had agreed to meet her for lunch. The truth was, they got along splendidly, and Marcy felt her mother’s spirit when she spent time with Penny.
They’d talked about Wyatt at length, and Penny didn’t push Marcy in either direction. She was a good listener, and Marcy felt comfortable telling her almost anything. Her phone chimed several times on the drive to town, and she took a moment in the car to check the messages.
Only one had come from Penny—No problem. I’ll get us a table when I get there.
The others were from Bryan, and he once again wanted to know if Marcy needed help getting the house on the market. She decided to call him quickly, and he picked up on the first ring.
“I’m sorry to keep bothering you about it,” he said. “I just want you to be able to move on.”
“It’s okay,” Marcy said. “I know I need to do it. I didn’t think I was ready, but I am now.”
“I can come for the weekend and help with whatever you need.”
“That would be great,” she said. “This weekend?”
“Yes,” he said. “Hey, real quick, did you happen to record Wyatt on the Digital Shopping Channel? I heard he was amazing, and I missed it.”
Marcy opened her mouth to respond, but she found she didn’t know what to say. No one besides Penny knew she and Wyatt weren’t in the best of places. Well, his brothers probably knew, as he’d stayed at Seven Sons for the few days before he’d left on tour.
“I didn’t,” she finally said. “But they replay stuff all the time. I could probably find it and record it for you.” And she needed to watch it for the first time.
Or maybe she shouldn’t. She felt like someone had taken a surgical knife and pulled it right down the middle of her heart. And a heart divided against itself couldn’t beat for long.
“That would be great,” he said. “I’ll get a flight and let you know when to expect me.”
“Okay,” Marcy said, excited to see her brother again. “There’s not much left in the house.”
“Could you call a realtor and have them meet us at the house on Saturday?”
“Sure,” she said.
“I can if you don’t want to.”
“I can do it,” Marcy said, watching as Penny walked into the restaurant. At least she hadn’t kept her waiting—yet. “I have to go, Bryan. I’ll see you soon.”
“Love you, Marce.”
Marce.
Her voice caught. “Love you too.” She hung up quickly, drawing a long breath. She could do this. She’d met Penny for lunch a handful of times now, and she wasn’t someone Marcy feared.
It was the advice she wanted that she didn’t know if she could handle or not.
She got out of the car and went into the restaurant, catching Penny just as the hostess started to take her to a table. “I’m here,” she said.
“Oh, here she is.” Penny’s face lit up, and she pulled Marcy into a hug. “It’s good to see you, dear.”
“Good to see you too.” They followed the woman to a table and waved away the menus. They’d been to this restaurant several times before, and Marcy got the chicken barbecue ranch tacos every time, with the tortilla soup.
Penny got cheese enchiladas, with extra Spanish rice and refried beans. They both got sweet tea, though Penny sometimes ordered strawberry lemonade.
“What’s got you shook today?” Penny asked, spreading her napkin over her lap.
“I was just talking to my brother,” she said. “He’s coming this weekend, and we’re going to get my father’s house on the market.”
Penny’s expression softened, and she reached across the table to cover Marcy’s hand. “That’s got to be hard. I remember when we moved my mother out of her house of fifty-seven years. Boy, I knew then why God had given me seven sons.” A smile crossed her mouth, but it didn’t stay long as it wasn’t meant to be jovial.
“The house is mostly cleaned out,” she said. “Wyatt and I did it last winter.”
“That’s good.”
“I just haven’t been able to let go of it yet,” she said. “It’s time. I know it’s time.” She looked up and into Penny’s soft, brown eyes. Eyes that would accept whatever Marcy said. “I couldn’t take down the family photos on the mantel.”
“You will,” Penny said.
The waitress arrived, and they put in their orders. Once alone again, Penny said, “I wanted to talk to you about Wyatt’s birthday.”
Marcy’s heart bumped painfully for a moment. “It’s tomorrow.”
“I want to tell him about our lunches.”
Marcy opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“He’ll be home in two weeks, Marcy, and you should….” She shook her head. “I’m going to tell him, and I want your blessing. He should know we’re getting together. He should know you haven’t given up on him.”
“Is that what I’ve done?”
“Yes,” Penny said. “That’s what you’ve done. Or rather, what you haven’t done.”
Marcy needed something to drink, as it would provide a pause for her that she needed to align her thoughts. But their waitress was nowhere to be found. “I want to,” she said. “Talk to him. I just don’t know how.”
“Come to Thanksgiving,” Penny said. It wasn’t the first time she’d invited Marcy to come for the holidays, and Marcy had initially balked at the idea. She still did, and she shook her head.
“I’m going to my cousin’s,” she said. “I won’t be alone, but I don’t want to have a public thing with Wyatt.” She shook her head. “I’ll figure out how to talk to him.”
“Birthdays are a great time,” she said. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Their drinks arrived, and Marcy reached for hers quickly. “I agree,” she said. She just didn’t know if she had the courage she needed to call her husband and wish him happy birthday.
The next day, Marcy woke while it was still dark. Now that it was mid-November, it did stay dark later in the morning, but it was early by any standards. She didn’t know where Wyatt was right now, though she could’ve looked up his itinerary on her phone. He’d shared it with her back when they were still on good terms.
She knew he was ending his tour in Montana, and it would be even earlier there. “Even better,” she thought, because she wanted him to start his birthday with a message from her. She wasn’t going to steal Penny’s thunder and tell him about their lunches, and she tapped out just two words.
Happy birthday.
There were so many more short phrases she could’ve used. I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.
Her fingers hovered above the screen as her mind whirred. What to send, what to send….
She hit send and let her phone drop to her chest. What would Wyatt do with that text? Maybe he’d call. Maybe she should offer to call. Maybe she should send all the other phrases.
I miss you.
I love you.
I’m sorry.
Can you call me later?
Can you forgive me?
Can we figure out how to be together and share our lives with the world?
I would love to talk to you.
She felt flattened, as if the world had collapsed on her, pushing all the air out of her lungs. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing.
Just one more breath. Just one more.
Before she knew it, her phone was ringing, startling her out of slumber. Surprise and adrenaline combined in her chest, and she felt new life enter her body.
And when the screen read Wyatt, all of her cells rioted.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Marcy,” he said, and nothing more.
She hadn’t sent any of her thoughts, but Wyatt had somehow gotten the messages anyway.
“I sure do miss you,” he said.
He sniffed, but Marcy couldn’t imagine the tough, tall cowboy crying. “I’d love to see you when I get home.”
“When will you be home?”
“The day before Thanksgiving,” he said.
“I’m eating with Savannah and her family. I know your mother is doing something at her house.”
“You’re not…of course not.” He exhaled. “Maybe Friday?”
“Yes,” Marcy said. “Let’s get together Friday.”
“Do you do that Black Friday thing?”
She gave a light laugh. “I think you’ve forgotten who you’re talking to.”
He chuckled too, and the sound had been something Marcy had sorely missed in her life. “So no shopping. Lunch?”
“Make it dinner,” she said. “I have to fly in the morning, same as usual.”
“Dinner it is,” he said, sobering. “Thank you for the birthday wishes, Marce. That text meant the world to me.”
She nodded, her words stuck in her throat. “Be safe,” she managed to say, and the call ended.
She got out of bed and went into the living room. After turning on the TV and searching for Wyatt Walker on the guide, she found a replay of Wyatt’s special on the DSC. She pushed the record button, and satisfied that maybe she’d taken another step down the path that would bring her and Wyatt back together, she went to shower.
Then she was going to check her email and see if there were any updates with the construction she’d restarted in Church Ranches.
And she had a phone call to make to a realtor to make sure she and Bryan could get their father’s house on the market that weekend.
Marcy felt like the pieces of her life were finally coming together, and a slip of happiness moved through her. It had been such a long time since she’d truly been happy that she barely recognized it.
But it was there, and as she showered, dressed, and got herself up into the sky to begin her day’s work, she reflected on the times she’d been the happiest over the past few years.
