by Vivi Holt
“I’m leaving in the morning. The timing is … not good.” Her voice wavered.
He pulled her to him, his eyes intense and longing. “Why does it have to end? So you go home tomorrow. That doesn’t mean we won’t see each other again. It doesn’t mean we have no future … does it?”
“I just don’t see how it could work. Please let me go.”
He released her, and she turned and fled into the house, racing to her room and shutting the door quietly behind her. The house was still – Eamon and Parker must have turned in for the night. She threw herself on the bed and rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling, her hands behind her head.
By tomorrow afternoon, all of this would be a fading memory. She’d be home, ready to begin rehearsals the next day for the ballet. Her dreams were coming true, much quicker than she’d ever imagined. Who knew where this might lead? She could be fielding requests from orchestras all over the world by the end of the year.
She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. Why didn’t the idea bring her the satisfaction she’d always thought it would? She’d worked her whole life toward this moment, this point in her career when everything was falling into place, and all she felt was anxiety and nausea. There was no excitement, no anticipation, no pride in her achievement. No doubt Mom and Dad would be proud, but that wasn’t enough anymore.
Pleasing her parents couldn’t fill the void inside her that opened whenever she thought of the years stretching out ahead of her. Years of violin practice, striving, looking over her shoulder to see who was vying for her position, travel, hotel rooms, lonely nights eating room-service meals in bed. She’d experienced it for years already, and knew more of the same lay ahead because she’d talked to others about it who’d been doing it for decades. They loved it – it was their passion and filled them with joy. But they’d sacrificed so much. Was she willing to do the same? Would she give up this chance of love to follow that dream? Was it even her dream, or just her parents’?
Hazel shook her head, then turned over and buried her face in the pillow.
Chapter 10
The sound of a car in the drive pulled Hazel from her bed. She’d been awake for an hour, her thoughts in a jumble, hoping the Williams brothers would be off to work by the time she showed her face. She hadn’t seen Dalton since she ran away the previous night and was embarrassed by her behavior.
She hurried to the window and pushed the blinds aside. A Volkswagen Jetta sat beside Dalton’s truck, the door hanging open. Jen! She’d called her before falling asleep, but hadn’t expected her to show up like this. A swell of gratitude swamped her like a wave against a sandy shore. She threw on shorts and a T-shirt and ran out to greet her friend, squealing as she padded down the stairs barefoot and threw her arms around Jen, squeezing her tight.
“Ahh … you’re suffocating me,” Jen joked. “And remember, I just had surgery.”
Hazel quickly pulled away with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m just so happy to see you. Did I hurt you?”
“No, it’s fine. And I’m glad to see you as well. I just had to come down here after your phone call last night. This is all my fault, and I have to clean it up – you shouldn’t be shouldering the whole thing yourself.” Jen placed a hand on Hazel’s shoulder. “Did I tell you how sorry I am?”
“Only a hundred times. It’s fine, really. I actually had fun.”
Jen’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Really?”
“I know it sounds strange, but it’s nice here. Dalton’s been so kind to me, welcoming me into his home. And Harley’s adorable – you’ll have to come inside and meet him. I’ve even made friends with the horses, if you can believe it?”
Jen shook her head. “That’s great. Unexpected, but great. And Contessa’s Charity …?”
“She’s over there,” Hazel pointed her out. “See how happy she looks?”
Jen squinted in the bright morning sunshine and watched the mare grazing contentedly.
Hazel smiled. “Come on inside and meet everyone. They already know everything, so you might as well join us for breakfast.”
They went into the house and through to the kitchen, where the murmur of conversation and sounds of laughter floated out to greet them. “Good morning,” Hazel chirped. “I’d like y’all to meet someone. This is Jen.”
“The Jen?” asked Eamon, a spoon poised over his bowl of cereal. “The real one?”
Parker laughed. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Jen. Pull up a chair.”
Dalton just kept eating, staring into his bowl. He wasn’t his usual cheerful self.
“Thanks,” replied Jen, sitting beside Parker at the table. He handed her a bowl and spoon and she poured herself some Rice Chex.
The only empty seat was beside Dalton and Hazel took it with a bright smile. “Morning, Dalton.”
He glanced up at her. “Mornin’. Nice to meet you, Jen – we’re glad you’re here. I believe Gus is arriving later to take Charity home. I’m assuming you’ll be going with him?”
Jen’s eyes found Hazel’s and Hazel nodded. “Um, yes. I think Hazel’s going to drive my car back this morning and I’ll ride with Gus later. I have to thank you, Dalton – you’ve been very welcoming to Hazel. I really appreciate it. And thank you for not reporting us to my boss – I don’t think he’d understand. I apologize for this whole mess. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
He chuckled and tipped his head toward her, his eyes sparkling. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Jen fit in well with the Williams brothers – before long, the four of them were laughing and joking like old friends. Hazel carried her empty bowl to the sink, rinsed it and stacked it in the dishwasher. She watched their playful banter with a smile, then slipped out of the room. She had to finish packing and get on the road. There was no reason for her to stay any longer – Jen had everything under control now.
* * *
Dalton watched Hazel sneak out of the kitchen, her eyes downcast, and frowned. He hadn’t been able to get through to her the night before, even though he was certain she felt the same way about him that he did about her. He could understand her reluctance – to be together, a lot of things had to work out. He didn’t pretend to know how, only that he wanted to try.
He was reluctant to press the issue any harder than he already had. He knew what she was doing – pushing him away so she wouldn’t get hurt. He’d done it himself plenty of times, especially after Jodie broke his heart. He’d been determined not to let a woman do that to him again. But now he’d fallen for Hazel, and he didn’t want it to stop. Not this time.
He pushed his chair back and went after her. If she’d planned on leaving without saying goodbye to make it easier on herself, he wasn’t about to let that happen. He found her loading her suitcase into the trunk of Jen’s car, leaned against it and crossed his arms. “I hope you weren’t planning on skipping out on us without so much as a goodbye.” He did his best to smile.
“No, of course not.” She flashed him an unconvincing grin.
He took a long, slow breath. “Hazel, I really don’t want this to be it.”
She blinked. “Me neither. It’s just that … if I stayed, if I gave us a chance, I know I’d give up everything for you. But there’s no future for me here. Tifton’s a small town – no opera, no symphony orchestra, no ballet. Well, there’s Janie’s Ballet School, but you know what I mean.”
He laughed. “I know.”
“So … what would I do? I don’t fit down here. If things didn’t work out between us … let’s face it, it’s not like I’ve ever held down a long-term relationship before. What then?”
He sighed. “I don’t have the answers. I just know I want to see you again. I want to spend time with you, get to know you better. I’ll miss you …”
“I’ll miss you too. But I’m sorry, Dalton, I have to go.”
He hung his head and stepped back from the car.
“Say goodbye to the others for me – I don’t think I could face them righ
t now. I already said my goodbyes to Harley. Take care of yourself.” She got into the car and slammed the door closed, then backed out and turned down the long driveway.
He waved goodbye, a single flick of his hand, then tipped his cowboy hat. He didn’t even know if she saw him. He just watched the small white car until it rounded a bend and was gone, then stood gazing at the empty road.
With a sigh, he wandered back into the house, stopping to remove his boots at the front door. He followed the hoots of laughter back into the kitchen and pulled up a chair across from Jen. She was telling a funny story about a house call she’d made to a jaundiced cat, and his brothers were crying with laughter. She was a born storyteller and he couldn’t help smiling at the expression on her face as she wove her tale.
When she finally finished and the laughter faded, she caught his eye. “Is she gone?”
He nodded and drummed his fingers on the table top.
“What?” asked Eamon with a frown. “Hazel’s gone? But she didn’t tell us goodbye!”
Dalton smiled sourly. “She said for me to tell you goodbye for her. I think she was feeling a bit emotional … you know, at leaving Harley behind.”
Parker arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “Really? Just Harley, huh?” Eamon chuckled.
Dalton got up and headed for the coffee maker. He poured himself a cup and stood with his back to the countertop, his ankles crossed, as he drank it. Once it was empty, he set it down on the counter. “We’d best get going. The day’s well and truly started and we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Parker carried his dirty plates to the sink, then turned to slap Dalton on the back, his eyes full of warmth. “Sorry, man. I know how you feel about her. But maybe she’ll come back.”
Dalton managed a smile. “Maybe. Though I doubt it – she made that pretty clear.”
Parker shook his head. “Her loss, I guess.”
“Thanks, Parker.”
“Enough talk about feelings – let’s go and do manly things!” exclaimed Eamon, slapping his palms against his chest with a shout.
Dalton laughed and headed for the door. His brothers followed, while Jen stood to carry her dirty dishes to the sink. “Let me know when Gus arrives,” Dalton called to her over his shoulder.
“Will do,” she replied.
He stepped outside and took a deep breath. It felt different with Hazel gone, like something was missing – a piece of his heart, maybe. But the day was full of sunshine and promise, and he couldn’t help feeling a bit of joy in that. He didn’t blame her for not wanting to stay. He’d tried to think of what she might do if she remained here, and came up empty.
It didn’t matter which way he looked at it, she didn’t belong in south Georgia any more than he belonged in Atlanta. If he’d met her before he inherited the ranch, he’d have given it a try, though he wasn’t likely to fit in there. But now, he was tied to Tift County as surely as if he’d been chained to it. He couldn’t leave; she couldn’t stay. It was an impossible situation and it made his heart ache.
* * *
Hazel drew the bow across the strings, and the final note hung in the still air. It wasn’t a full orchestra, just a few latecomers who needed to catch up on learning the music before rehearsals began, but it still sounded beautiful. Her eyes were moist and her hand shook as she lowered the bow to her side.
Music always manipulated her emotions. A dirge made her sad, an anthem lifted her spirits and filled her with hope. But today’s piece had simply amplified what was already there beneath the surface. She couldn’t stop thinking about Cotton Tree Ranch, Harley, Rocket, Charity, Eamon, Parker, and most of all Dalton. His dimpled smile and tanned cheeks, the strong arms that had wrapped around her and held her close …
She nodded goodbyes to the rest of the group as they packed up, a few words about the weather here and brief discussions of dinner plans there. Then they were gone and she was left alone in the small room. She sighed and packed her violin away.
Her parents had been delighted when she’d called them last night to tell them she’d made first chair, however temporarily. She’d skipped over the part about the ranch, blaming her delay entirely on the rehearsals for the ballet. First chair – well now, isn’t that something? was what Dad had said. Mom had nattered on about how she should take her part seriously and never for a moment take it for granted, how she’d have to up her daily practice from two hours a day to four, and be sure to network and solidify the relationships she had within the orchestral community …
Hazel rubbed her eyes. Just thinking about it all made her stomach clench. She wasn’t cut out for schmoozing, or cutthroat competition. Her time at the ranch had brought clarity to that for the first time. She’d gotten to relax, read, listen to the music she wanted to listen to, go out for a drink, laugh with friends – she’d even kissed a sexy man. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun.
Of course, one of the best things about it was that no one there had known who she really was. She got to play a role - maybe not well, but a role nonetheless. There were no expectations on her, no pressure to perform, no one studying her every move to see if she’d qualify for the next opportunity. And she’d loved it.
* * *
Dalton hammered the nail into the fence post. It was the last one for that post, and he stood to stretch the kinks out of his back with a sigh. He glanced down the length of the fence with pride. It looked good and they were almost done. He’d replaced all the torn-up barbed wire with a rail fence – more expensive and it took longer to build, but it was better for horses. He intended to breed the best stock horses in the Southeast, so he figured he should do everything on the ranch with excellence.
“How’s it going?” asked Eamon as he piled another load of palings at Dalton’s feet.
“Done with this section. Only a few more to go and we’re finished completely.”
“That’s music to my ears, brother.”
Dalton laughed, but his smile quickly faded. He bent over to retrieve a paling.
Eamon lifted a post and carried it with a grunt to set in the hole they’d dug for it earlier. “Why so glum?”
Dalton sighed. “You know why. Dang it, I just can’t seem to get her out of my head.”
Eamon grinned as he brushed the dust and splinters from his shirt. “Sounds to me like you’re in love.”
Dalton kicked dirt into the hole around the post. “What would you know about that?”
Eamon’s eyebrows arched high. “Now, now – no need to get testy. I know enough. You should probably give her a call.”
Parker pulled up in the truck and jumped out with a wave. “I brought more palings.”
“Thanks,” replied Dalton, then told Eamon, “There’s no point in calling her. She’s got her life there, I’ve got mine here. She doesn’t see a future for herself down here, and frankly, I get that. But getting it still doesn’t help the way I feel.”
Parker grinned. “Ahh … we’re talking about the lovely Miss Hildebrand, I take it.”
Eamon nodded. “Yeah, and this dipweed is moping over her, but won’t do anything about it.”
Dalton leaned an elbow on the fence post and glared at his brother. “Tell you what – if I say I’ll think about it, will you leave me be?”
Eamon raised his hands in surrender. “Done. Consider it dropped.”
“There’s something else on my mind as well.” Dalton rubbed his hands over his face and took a breath. “It’s the ranch.”
Parker and Eamon stopped what they were doing and listened.
“I’m running out of money. I’ve got another mare arriving for Rocket Peak today and a few more later in the week, so the stud fees will help. But I’m still just starting to build a name and it’s not going to be enough.”
Eamon scowled. “How bad is it?”
“The problem is, the ranch isn’t properly mine until the end of twelve months – that’s only four months away. If I don’t make it until then
, it’ll revert to Nana Dixie.”
Parker was in shock. “I hadn’t heard that. Grandpa Joe sure had fun writing that will of his. I think he did something similar to our cousins.”
“And I’ve sunk all my money into this place. If it goes, I lose everything – my inheritance, my savings and a year’s worth of work, all down the drain.”
“I’m really sorry, man,” said Eamon with a scowl. “But we’ll think of something.”
“Yeah, we’ll figure it out.” Parker rested his hand on Dalton’s back. “Eamon and I have to head back north in a couple of weeks, but we’ll see what we can come up with before then.”
“Thanks.” Dalton kicked more dirt into the hole, then stomped it down hard, fixing the pole in place as he did. They’d think of something. They had to. Otherwise he didn’t know what he’d do. It was times like these he missed his father. Dad would have known what to do. But he was gone, and Dalton was on his own.
Chapter 11
Hazel walked through the front door and dropped a handful of bills and junk mail on the kitchen table. The house was still and quiet, and for a moment she remembered the rambunctious fun of living at Cotton Tree Ranch. Here there was no puppy licking her toes, no brothers fighting over the last slice of cake. No noise at all other than the rumble of traffic as it drove in a continuous stream past the house.
She missed it.
She hung her purse on the coat rack by the door, then searched through the refrigerator for something to cook. It was obvious Jen hadn’t bothered to shop while she was away – the fridge held a half-used bottle of ketchup, another of French dressing and a carton of milk that was turning into a new lifeform. She sniffed it, wrinkled her nose, then poured it down the sink.
The kitchen door flew open and Jen breezed in, her duffle bag over one shoulder. She grinned when she saw Hazel, then grimaced and covered her nose. “Ugh! What is that smell?”
Hazel laughed. “The milk you let spoil.”
