by Amy Ruttan
Gary grinned. “He did.”
“Is that why you’re pushing this on me?”
“I am. I aim to change your mind yet.” He winced. “Come on, Doc, humor me.”
“I don’t think that will work.” Though she was sorely tempted to get out of the hospital, going back to her mother’s house was no better. It was so lonely there. Maybe she should take Gary up on his offer and go somewhere where no one knew her.
Where no one would be questioning her skills and whispering about how she was a failure.
“Come on, Doc. Just go check out my replacement. It would put me at ease. You know, less stress.”
Vivian rolled her eyes and then laughed. “You’re terrible.”
He grinned again. “I know it.”
She sighed. “Printer’s Alley?”
“It’s not far from here and, besides, the walk will do you good. It’ll clear your mind.”
“I know where Printer’s Alley is. I’m from here.”
“Good, then you know exactly how far it is.”
“I’m not going.”
She had spent so many nights in Printer’s Alley with Reece. Huddled together in a secluded booth having a coffee, talking about medicine or not talking at all. And there had been the time in the winter, when a rare snow had begun to fall early in the season, catching them off guard...
“It’s starting to snow.” Vivian had stood there, staring up at the inky-black sky. “I’ve never seen it snow this early on.”
Reece had stepped out the door of the bistro and stared up at the sky. “Must be El Niño.”
She had snorted and then laughed. “I can’t remember the last time I really watched it snow.”
“It snows every year,” Reece had said.
“Yeah, I know, but I can’t remember the last time I did this—you know?” She had held up her arms and spun around.
“What? Dancing in the snow?”
“No.” She’d stuck out her tongue and caught a snowflake.
“Haven’t you heard about acid rain?” Reece had teased.
“You’re a stick-in-the-mud.”
“Oh, am I?”
Then he had pulled her close and begun to sway.
“Let’s dance, then. That’s what I like to do in the snow...”
“So what’s the holdup, Doc? Why won’t you do this one favor for me?” Gary pleaded again, interrupting her thoughts.
“Fine, but you need to rest for the rest of the night. No television. Sleep.”
“Deal, but when you get back I want a report.”
“Fine, but if you’re asleep I’m not going to wake you.”
“Get out of here, Dr. Maguire,” Gary said, laughing, and then laid on his Southern accent really thick. “Go on, now—git.”
She didn’t really want to go to Printer’s Alley to watch Gary’s replacement at a bistro, but maybe a change of scene would do her some good. She changed into her street clothes and decided to take the short walk to the bistro.
It was still early in the evening, but late enough that the sun had set. She could see the pedestrian bridge lit up against the dark night. Usually the streets were quieter in the fall, but it was summer and there were a lot of tourists milling about. They were being brought in by shuttles from various hotels to the normal tourist traps.
The Red Swallow Bistro wouldn’t be on their radar.
Which was good. If she had to endure a night of live country music, she wanted it to be in a relatively peaceful place so she could think.
“Can I help you?” the hostess asked as soon as she walked in.
“Yes, Gary Trainer sent me over.”
“Oh, yes. You must be Dr. Maguire. Gary called me and let me know you were coming,” she said sweetly. “Follow me.”
Vivian followed her through the darkened bistro that had white Christmas lights strung from the low rafters. The mood was definitely intimate and rustic.
“Here’s Mr. Trainer’s booth. Can I get you a drink?”
“A sweet tea with something in it would be nice.”
The waitress smiled. “Sure, I’ll be right back.”
Vivian slid into the booth, which was off to the side and in the shadows. You could see the stage area. The entertainment hadn’t started for the evening. The small stage was lit up with a circle of light and on the wall behind it were various neon signs and signed country music paraphernalia.
The rest of the bistro was wood, brick and stone. It just gave off a rustic feel. That was the best way she could describe it. Vivian relaxed against the plush leather seat in the booth. It had been so long since she’d really relaxed like this.
Seven years was too long.
“Here you go,” the waitress said, setting the tea down. “Mr. Trainer said your drinks are on the house.”
“He doesn’t have to do that. I can pay for my own drinks.”
The waitress shrugged. “He insisted and, since he owns most of the shares in this place, I’m not going to argue with my boss.”
Vivian chuckled. “Fair enough. Thank you. When does the live music start?”
“Soon. If there’s anything else you need, just holler.”
“I will.”
The waitress left and Vivian took a sip of her spiked sweet tea. The alcohol went straight to her head and though she wasn’t sure what they’d put into her tea she didn’t care. It tasted great.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special guest with us here tonight. He’s a close personal friend of Gary Trainer, who is still in hospital, so please give a warm welcome to Reece Castle.”
Vivian almost choked on her sweet tea as Reece came out of the shadows of the stage, a guitar slung around him and his black cowboy hat down low. Reece? He was Gary’s special guest? She knew Reece could sing but why he would agree to it? He hated the spotlight, but it was him. He walked across the stage, keeping his head down as he sat on a stool. The house band came out and sat behind him. Another guitar, an autoharp player, percussion; it was a bit surreal for her.
“Thank y’all for having me here tonight. I thought I would sing some songs that mean a lot to me and Mr. Trainer to let him know we’re thinking about him tonight.”
Vivian watched with bated breath as he began to play the guitar and the lyrics of the song Gary had been singing a few nights ago, Ray Castille’s song Only Hearts Are Broken, slipping from his lips, but what made a shiver race down her spine was that she heard Ray’s voice in Reece. Which was eerie since Ray Castille had been dead for a long time, but it was as if he was in the room. She’d heard Reece sing before, but never really listened. It was eerie, hearing him sing like this. She’d never put two and two together before now.
And she wasn’t crazy, as a few people around her began to gasp and whisper, but only for a few moments as they sat back and listened. Reece had the audience under his spell, as if he was weaving words which held them captive and enthralled.
Something she’d never seen him able to do.
He moved so quietly through the halls of Cumberland Mills. Almost like a shadow. He didn’t speak out or step out of line. Most people thought he was harmless and didn’t think twice about him, but she knew better. Vivian knew that he didn’t take guff from anyone and he was fiercely talented.
Here, though, he had a commanding presence.
With his voice he reached out to the audience and ensnared them, holding them captive. It was mesmerizing and she was just as captivated as the rest of the audience. Just as spellbound. And when his performance finally came to an end there was a standing ovation, which she joined in.
And it was then that he saw her. Their gazes locked across the bistro and she couldn’t tell whether he was happy to see her or not, but he didn’t take his eyes off her...
“Now that you’ve taught me to two-step, what’re you going to teach me next?” she had teased as she’d run her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I thought I would sing for you.”
“Sing now?”
“Yep.”
And then he’d begun to sing in her ear. A sultry song she hadn’t recognized, but she hadn’t cared because it had been the man singing it to her, holding her close on that snow-covered street in the middle of the night that had mattered...
The song ended and there was applause. She was breathless, her heart fluttering at the memory. She’d been so in love with Reece it was overwhelming, all the memories coming back to her.
I should leave.
“Thank you, everyone. Have a good night,” Reece quickly said before disappearing off the stage.
Vivian sat back, suddenly nervous, and she didn’t know why.
It wasn’t long before Reece made his way through the crowd, but he was no longer the country singer. He was the man she was familiar with. He slid into the booth, his back to the stage.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he said.
“I could say the same of you.”
He nodded. “Well, it’s a side of me that...I can’t even finish that sentence.”
“Why?”
“Singing in public is hard for me. It brings back too many painful memories.”
At least that explained his behavior at the Opry.
“I didn’t know you performed like this.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re amazing. In fact you sound exactly like Ray Castille. I’ve never noticed it before. It’s eerie.”
His look was thunderous; even in the shadows she could see the change. “How do you know Ray Castille’s music? I thought you hated country music.”
“I grew up listening to it. He was my father’s favorite. He wanted to be like him.”
Reece nodded slowly. “I don’t sound like Ray Castille.”
“You do. It’s uncanny and I’m not the only one who thinks that way. You should’ve seen the audience, their faces when you began to sing. It was...I can’t describe it.”
Reece shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not.” Then she reached out and touched his hand. “Why does it bother you so much? You have a talent.”
He stiffened. “My talent is surgery.”
“Yes, that too, but singing... It was beautiful. It was better than Ray Castille as far as I’m concerned.”
“No, Dad was the far superior singer.”
* * *
Reece watched her closely. It didn’t take her long to process what he’d said. It was a shock to him that he was actually admitting it. That he was telling someone that his father was Ray Castille. That he was finally telling Vivian his darkest secret.
That he was the son of a late country music legend.
A son who’d done nothing but disappoint his father by walking away from the gift of music to pursue the gift of healing instead.
“You can heal souls with music, Reece. You can’t with medicine.”
Telling her, though, felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. He’d been hiding this from her for so long. It felt good, but also made him nervous. Why was he letting her in like this?
And for a moment he regretted his decision.
“Your father?” Vivian stammered. “But your name...”
“I changed it.”
She blushed. “You have me there. Why did you change your name, though? You’re country music royalty.”
“No,” Reece snapped. “I’m not. I’m a surgeon. I love music, but it’s not my passion. Medicine is.”
She nodded. “I get that. Does Gary know who your father is? Is that why he asked you?”
“No. He doesn’t know. He knows I sing. He’s caught me at some smaller venues and he’s been asking me to come here and perform for a long time, but my schedule doesn’t let me.”
“For someone who is vehemently against connections to one of the greats, it’s so odd that you come out here and sing.”
“I’m not vehemently against it. Music relaxes me, but I’m careful about it. I don’t perform often and I avoid the places where people might recognize me. As you said, my father was a country music star and there were a lot of parties. It’s why I changed my name. I just want to keep my anonymity.”
“Fair enough. Though singing your dad’s stuff and sounding like him, it will be hard to keep that secret.”
“I have been able to keep it secret for most of my life.”
“You got me there.” She smiled at him and it made his heart skip a beat. He liked seeing her like this, relaxed and talking with him as if no time had passed. “I never noticed it before. I can’t believe I haven’t.”
“It only seems to come out when I sing his stuff. I never sang his songs to you before.”
She smiled. “True.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Gary about this, though,” Reece said. “Or he’ll bug me to perform again.”
“I won’t tell him, but you know word is going to get out. You’re skating on thin ice, my friend.”
“What will they hear? That there’s a guy who can sing like Ray Castille? As long as they don’t know the real truth it doesn’t matter.”
“And you don’t think Gary is going to ask you to sing with him at the Opry, especially if you sound like your dad, which you do?”
“Well, my schedule just became impossible. He’ll forget about it the longer I put him off. Like most music stars I’ve had the acquaintance of, he’ll move on to something new and shiny in no time.”
“How is your trial coming?” Vivian asked. “I know you don’t like me asking about it, but I’m curious.”
“It’s coming along well. The medicine is being well received.” And it was. All his patients were doing well and Sandra was recovering nicely, with only a few minor side effects.
“Have you been to see your mother since she came out of sedation?”
“I have and she hasn’t had too many blips. When will you release her?”
“By the end of the week. I have a few more memory tests to run on her.” The waitress set down a cup of coffee in front of Reece.
“Can I have a coffee, maybe with a shot of espresso?” Vivian asked.
“Sure,” the waitress said, taking away the empty glass that had been sitting in front of her.
“Are you planning on burning the midnight oil?” Reece asked.
“Yes. Until I find out what’s causing Gary’s illness.”
“You’ll find it.”
“Why do you have so much faith in me? I mean, it’s clear the rest of the hospital is questioning my abilities, but you have faith in me. Why?”
Because I’ve never lost faith in you, even after you destroyed me.
“You’re a good surgeon.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Castille.”
The voice addressing him by his family name sent a shiver down Reece’s spine. He turned and saw an older man in a bolo tie and suede jacket standing beside the booth—the one who had approached him at the Opry.
He’d recognized the man too, but couldn’t place him then. Now he could. Andrew Sampson. His father’s producer and the man who’d written several of his father’s platinum hits, including the one he’d sung tonight.
“I’m Dr. Castle. Not Mr. Castille.” Reece didn’t like lying, but telling Vivian was one thing, letting the whole world know was another.
The man smiled indulgently. “If you say so. But you can’t deny how much you sound like Ray.”
“Thank you,” Reece said quickly. “This is Dr. Vivian Maguire. She’s working with me. We’re both treating Gary Trainer at Cumberland Mills.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Maguire.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sampson.” Vivian then slid out of the booth. “I really have to head back to the hospital. I’ll let you two gentlemen chat.”
Reece got up and touched her elbow. “You don’t have to leave.”
I want you to stay. Don’t leave me here. He needed her, but he couldn’t vocalize those words. He couldn’t ask her for that.
“No, it’
s okay. I’ll get my coffee to go and head back to the hospital. I won’t feel good until I figure out what’s wrong with Gary. I’ll see you later at the hospital?”
Reece nodded. “Yeah.”
He watched her leave and his heart sank in disappointment. He was trapped and now he really regretted coming up here and singing his father’s songs, but tonight he’d been feeling maudlin. Watching Vivian with her mother made him yearn for something he’d never had with his parents. Tonight he’d been regretting not seeing his father more often, for not working out his issues with him.
So he’d broken with tradition and sang his father’s songs.
He shouldn’t have done it.
“You’re a doctor now?” Andrew asked as Reece returned to the booth.
Reece nodded. “I am. I’m a neurosurgeon.”
Andrew’s eyebrows raised. “I’m impressed. I always knew you were bright.”
Reece cocked his head to one side, giving up on trying to pretend he wasn’t Ray Castille’s son now that the two men were alone. He snorted. “Did you?”
“Of course.” Andrew cleared his throat. “So you and that pretty doctor are treating Gary Trainer?”
“Yes.”
“I hope Gary recovers soon. What’s wrong with him? There’s a lot of talk.”
“I’m not at liberty to say. I can say the talk is wrong.”
Andrew smiled. “Well, it’s great to hear that the gossip is just that. It’s always so disappointing when talented musicians fall prey to the drink and drugs.”
A knot twisted in Reece’s stomach.
“How can I help you, Mr. Sampson?” Reece asked, shutting those memories of his parents’ past from his head.
“The thirtieth anniversary of your father’s first single going platinum is coming up. It’s sad he’s not here to celebrate it with us at the Opry, but you have his gift, son. Come sing at the Opry. Come sing for your father.”
Sing for your father.
Only he couldn’t.
Singing at these small venues was one thing, but getting up there on the stage and singing for all those people... He couldn’t do that.
He was a nothing.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sampson, but I’m going to have to decline. My work just won’t allow me to do it. I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the hospital.”
