She really wanted him to stay in Whisper Lake.
But what if he didn't?
What if she didn't?
The silent question startled her, mocked her for pretending that singing and playing the guitar last night hadn't changed everything, hadn't made her want more music in her life.
But to what extent?
That was a question she still had to answer.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The school day passed in agonizing slowness. Chelsea kept losing her train of thought, thinking about Brodie, about the song brewing in her mind, the invitation to sing at the assembly, and Jessalyn's request that she get in touch with her. That one, in particular, kept running around in her head.
She owed Jessalyn West a lot. Jessalyn had been so kind to her at the beginning of her career, so generous with her time and with her fans. Chelsea needed to call her back. It wouldn't be easy, but maybe it was time she stopped avoiding things that were difficult.
In the afternoon, she tried to get the kids into another art assignment, but they lost interest fairly quickly, as eager as she was to be done with the summer session. She finished the day with a show-and-tell. She'd asked the kids to bring something in that was important to them to share with the class.
As she went around the room, she was surprised at some of the items that had made the trek to school. Along with teddy bears and books, there was a pet bunny, a goldfish, a bicycle, a miniature fire truck and a police car. The kids told their stories as they went around the circle. Last up was Travis. She didn't see anything on the carpet in front of him, so she asked him if he'd brought something in to share. He gave her a long look and then shook his head.
She smiled. "That's fine." Then she turned to the rest of the class. "That was a fun share, wasn't it? Well, I have something to share with you. We have one more full day of school, as you know, and then on Thursday we're going to have lots of fun and games as well as an assembly." She took a deep breath, preparing herself to take a step she couldn't take back. Once she said the words, made the promise, she'd have to keep it. "At the assembly," she continued, drawing on every last ounce of courage she had, "I'll be singing a song."
Ashley's daughter, Kalani, immediately clapped her hands with delight, leading the other kids in a round of applause, ending with the bell.
The kids immediately lost interest in her big news as they ran to get their things.
Travis was moving more slowly again, a change from his behavior the day before. When everyone was gone, he pulled something out of his backpack and put it on his desk.
"What's this?" She moved closer to get a better look. It was a white vehicle, a miniature mail truck, she realized. "Is this what you brought in to share?"
He nodded.
"Your cousin and your grandpa drive a truck like this, don't they?"
He nodded once more.
"Did one of them give this to you?"
"Yes."
She couldn't quite read the expression in his eyes. It felt like he was trying to tell her something, but she didn't know what.
"Travis," an impatient voice came from the doorway. "I told you to stop being so slow," Kimberly chided.
Travis grabbed his backpack and ran toward the door. Kimberly sighed as her cousin brushed past her. Turning to Chelsea, she said, "I will be so happy when his parents come home. He's so difficult to connect with. My grandfather is getting to the end of his rope, too, and we still have another month to go. It's not that we don't love him."
"I know. It's a tough situation."
“Sorry to complain."
"Don't worry about it."
As Kimberly left, she realized she was still holding the mini mail truck in her hand. She'd have to return it to Travis tomorrow. She took the truck back to her desk, so she wouldn't forget to give it him. When she set it down, she saw something she hadn't seen before—a flower sticker on the window. Her heart skipped a beat.
This was what Travis had been drawing—this little miniature mail truck with the flower decal.
Why? What did it have to do with the fire across the street?
Maybe it had absolutely nothing to do with the fire. He'd just drawn one of his favorite toys in front of the burning house. All this time, she'd thought it was a clue, but it was nothing.
She pulled her phone out of her bag and called Brodie. He didn't answer; he was probably busy with work. She left him a quick message. "Hi, it's me. I think we're on the wrong track with the white van. Travis brought in a toy for show-and-tell today, and it was a miniature mail truck with a flower decal on the window. I'm pretty sure that's what he's been drawing. Anyway, I guess he was just drawing whatever was in his head. I steered us down the wrong path. Call me back when you can."
She'd no sooner put the phone down when it buzzed with an incoming call. For a second, she thought it was Brodie returning her call, but it was her sister.
"Chelsea, are you free?" Lizzie asked.
"I am. Good timing. My class just ended."
"Great. Do you think you could come by the inn? I need to run something by you."
"Is everything all right?"
"It's fine. Could you stop by?"
"Sure," she said, not liking the undertone in Lizzie's voice. Something was definitely up. "I'll be there in a few minutes."
"I'll see you soon."
She put her phone in her bag, then locked up her classroom and headed across town.
When she arrived at the inn, she was surprised to see Lizzie waiting in the swing on the front porch.
"Okay, what's wrong?" she asked immediately.
"I might have done something you won't like."
She tensed at that reply. "Like what?"
Lizzie gave her an apologetic look. "Jessalyn West is inside. She showed up a half hour ago. She said you haven't contacted her, and it's urgent that she speak to you. Since she thought you might be avoiding her, she asked if I would get you down here."
"Why didn't you tell me that on the phone?"
"Because I didn't think you'd come. And I think you need to hear what Jessalyn has to say. You always told me how important she was to you, how much she helped you. She's come all this way. It's not like Austin. I don't think she's trying to ambush you."
"You don't? Because that's exactly what it feels like."
"I'm sorry. I knew it was wrong after I did it. If you want to leave, I'll tell her you're not ready to talk to her."
She sighed. "It's fine. I'm ready. I was going to call her this afternoon."
"You were? That's a relief."
As Lizzie stood up, a tall, voluptuous blonde with beautiful light-green eyes stepped onto the porch. Jessalyn was dressed in a sleeveless dress that dipped down to her calves. She'd always dressed like a free-spirited woman, confident in who she was. She believed in never making excuses for mistakes, never backing down from a fight, and never letting anyone make her think less of herself.
"Chelsea," Jessalyn said, opening up her arms as a delighted smile spread across her face. "Aren't you going to give me a hug?"
"Of course I am.” She embraced her with true affection. "I was going to call you. You didn't have to drive down here."
"I wasn't sure if you would call me. It's been a long time. I've been waiting for you to reach out to me, but you never have."
"I just needed to leave the music business behind."
"We didn't just do business together; we were friends."
"I know."
"Can we sit?" Jessalyn asked.
She nodded as Lizzie walked into the inn, leaving them alone.
As they sat down on the swing, she said, "I can't guarantee you won't be recognized if we stay out here."
"I'm not worried about that. I am worried about you. I saw all the press you've been getting."
"I haven't looked, but I heard there are a lot of new photos and stories about me and Austin."
"And some other handsome man you were with at the beach."
"Tha
t's Brodie."
Jessalyn smiled. "He must be important. Your voice just got soft and sexy."
She flushed at Jessalyn's comment. Her mentor had never been shy when it came to men. "He's important," she agreed. "He's a cop here in town."
"And you're in love?"
"I—I don't know."
"Sure you do. Well, I'm glad you found someone. I never thought Austin was good enough for you. I liked how you sent him packing. He was trying to use you."
"It wasn't the first time, but it will be the last."
"Good for you. Now, let's talk about your singing."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"You haven't felt the urge to sing again?"
"Actually, I have—very recently. In fact, tomorrow I'm going to sing at the school where I teach. It will be the first time I've sung in public since…you know."
"That's great, Chelsea," Jessalyn said, excitement in her eyes. "I'm so glad you're coming out of whatever dark cloud you've been living under."
"Well, I could still freeze again, but I see these kids every day, so I hope I can do it."
"This is perfect. It will be a trial run."
She frowned at Jess's words. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—the reason I came here besides just to say hello was to invite you to my fiftieth birthday party. Yes, I know it's difficult to believe I'm fifty."
"It really is. You look thirty."
"Thank you, but you're not that good a liar. Anyway, I'm having the party in Denver on Friday night at the Glasshouse. It's where I had my first solo concert when I was twenty-one, and it feels right to go back there. It will be a small concert for about three hundred people—family, friends, super fans. My daughter Kenzie is going to sing, too."
"That's amazing. How is she doing?"
"She's fifteen going on thirty," Jessalyn said with a laugh. "But otherwise good. I'd really like you to come to my party. I know you've been avoiding anything that has to do with country music, but it's important to me that you be there. Promise me you'll think about it."
She realized she didn't have to think about it. If she could face Austin, she could face anyone. "I would love to come to your party."
Jessalyn beamed. "That's wonderful. And I'd also like you to sing."
Her heart twisted. "I—"
"Don't say no," Jessalyn put in quickly. "I would love to hear your pretty voice again, and I know others would, too."
"I'm not sure I can."
"That's exactly what you said to me the first time you opened for me. You were nervous; afraid you'd let me down. But you didn't. You rose to the occasion; you always have."
"Not always, not the last time I got on stage."
"Did I ever tell you that I once had a similar experience?"
"No, and I have never heard that or read about it."
"It happened a long time ago; I was about eighteen. I was opening for the Mickelson Brothers at a county fair in Texas. I went out on the stage and right there in the front row was a man who'd made a pass at me… Well, it was more than a pass. He'd grabbed me and kissed me when I went to audition for him. He was a music executive. He gave me this look, like he was going to do it again, and there would be nothing I could do to stop him. I panicked. He was powerful, and I was just starting out. I felt trapped on the stage. I opened my mouth, and no words came out. The music kept playing. People were getting restless, but all I could see was him. I bolted like a deer in front of oncoming traffic. I didn't stop running when I got off the stage, either; I kept going. I ran all the way to my car. I think there were people chasing me, or maybe I just thought there were. But I drove away thinking I'd never sing again, never get on another stage. I figured even if I wanted to, no one would probably let me."
"I can't believe I never heard this story."
"You weren't even born when it happened."
"So, tell me the rest. How did you get back on the stage?"
"My daddy heard what happened, and he made me tell him why I ran. He didn't believe it was nerves. I was so scared to confess the truth. I felt ashamed. I thought he'd call me a slut. Or he wouldn't believe me. Or he'd think I'd come on to the man to get somewhere. That's what the guy told me would happen if I spoke out."
She shook her head at the all-too-familiar story.
"Anyway, I finally found the courage to tell him the whole story," Jessalyn continued. "He got quiet and then he told me it wasn't my fault. I guess I needed someone else to say that out loud, and to believe it, so I could believe it. He told me that when I stepped out onto the stage the next time, I would take my power back. I needed to look for the people who needed to hear me, not just wanted to, but needed to. I wasn't really sure what he meant, but a couple of weeks later, he set me up on another stage. And when I looked out in the audience, he was there, along with my mother, my sister and brother, our whole family, and half the neighborhood. They needed to hear me. And when I sang my stories, I felt my power come back. Because my music is me, just as your music has always been you. I think you need to take your power back from whoever stole it."
She stared at Jessalyn. "It wasn't anything like that. The person didn't hurt me." She paused. "He hurt himself." As she told her secret to yet another person, she realized it was starting to lose its potency. Maybe she had been wrong to keep it to herself for so long.
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," Jessalyn said, compassion in her eyes.
"He said my words caused his death."
"But you know that's not true."
"Do I know that? Words matter. They influence actions. We do have power as singers. We can change people's lives. I just always thought it would be for the better."
"Most of the time, it is for the better."
"But what about the times when it's not?"
"Then you cry, and you grieve, and you try to help. I wish you'd told me this a long time ago."
"I didn't want it to get out."
"Well, I can understand that. You need to take your power back, Chelsea. You were born to sing. Start with your school program, and then come to my birthday concert on Friday night. You don't have to sing, but if you want to, I want you to."
"Can I think about it?"
"Of course." Jessalyn got to her feet. "But I hope you'll say yes. You remind me of myself; you always have. I'd like to see you happy."
"I am happy," she said.
"Well, there's happy and there's happy…" Jessalyn said with a laugh.
She smiled. "Actually, my happy has gotten a lot happier since I met Brodie."
"Bring him to the concert. I'd like to meet him."
"We'll see."
"Thank your sister for me, and don't get too mad at her for letting me ambush you."
"I won't." She stood on the porch as Jessalyn made her way down the steps and out to the parking lot.
The front door opened, and Lizzie came out, a wary expression on her face. "How did that go?"
"Fine."
"You're not mad?"
"I should be mad." She didn't want to let Lizzie off the hook just yet. "You should have told me before I got here."
"I thought you needed to talk to someone from your world, someone who really cared about you."
"Maybe I did. You're a good sister, Lizzie."
"Phew."
She laughed. "Am I that scary?"
"When it comes to your past and your secrets, yes. But only because you're like a wounded bear who doesn't want to let anyone get close enough to pull the nail out of your paw. We have all wanted to help you, but we haven't been able to." She paused. "But you've changed over the last week. Ever since you met Brodie. You let him get close enough to pull out the nail. Hopefully, now the healing begins."
"It has already begun," she admitted.
"You two are good together."
"We are. I just don't know if it can last."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because I feel like things are changing, maybe for both of us. I have this sinking fee
ling that we were just meant to be together for a short time. That somehow meeting each other helped us both move forward, but maybe we have to do the rest on our own."
"I think you can make it work if you want to."
"And if he wants to," she added. "I guess we'll find out."
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brodie listened to Chelsea's message as he headed toward his grandfather's house after work. The mini mail truck with the flower decal was certainly a new twist. Did it mean anything or was Chelsea right, that Travis had been simply drawing whatever was in his head, items that were completely unrelated to the fire across the street?
He called her back, but she didn't answer. "Sorry I missed you," he said. "I'm stopping at my grandfather's house to talk to him and Janet. I'll call you when I'm leaving. Let's get together tonight."
He felt oddly dissatisfied as he disconnected the call. Things had been great with Chelsea until he'd told her about his trip to LA. Then she'd pulled back. He couldn't blame her. Making flight reservations had been a tangible step away from her. And she had strong protective instincts when it came to her heart.
But he'd had to be honest with her and with himself. He needed to explore the job opportunity if for no other reason than to make sure he was exactly where he wanted and needed to be.
He pulled up in front of his grandfather's house a few moments later. He'd given them a very brief review of his conversation with Craig the night before, but they wanted to talk further.
Jogging up the steps to the porch, he rang the bell. His grandfather opened the front door with Janet right behind him.
"Come in," his grandfather said impatiently, waving him inside. "I thought you'd be here sooner."
"I was caught up in a case, but I'm here now. What's going on?"
"That's what we want to know," Janet interrupted. "I spoke to Craig today, and he's having a very bad day. I got him to see his therapist, but after your conversation with him yesterday, he's worried that these fires are going to get pinned on him."
My Wildest Dream: Whisper Lake #2 Page 23
