The Right Man

by Mankin, Michelle

  “Thanks.” I sat stiffly beside him on the leather passenger seat of his rental car.

  “He needs more than that.”

  “I know he does.”

  Tears threatened at Brad’s words, but I blinked them back. He was right. Rush needed better than me.

  Glancing at me, Brad frowned. “You need to toughen the fuck up if you plan to stay around.”

  I gasped at his sharpness. “I’m not weak.”

  “Didn’t say you were.” He gave me a quick side glance as the car jolted over a pothole in the unpaved dirt road. “Rush is a celebrity. This is going to be big news.”

  “His mom being sick?” I pressed my hand to my stomach, nauseated at the thought of Rush having to deal with media attention right now.

  “Yeah. It’s not cool, but that’s the way it is. And you, with your profession, are gonna be like gas on a flame.”

  “No one knows.”

  “Yet. It’s only a matter of time. You have a record.”

  “Does he know?” I gnawed my lip.

  “About the solicitation?” he asked, not mentioning the other, though he gave me a searching look. “No. I didn’t think his knowing would change anything. And he’s got enough to worry about right now. I’ll shield him as much as I can. The rest is up to you.”

  Staring straight ahead at the road, he switched topics.

  “Reporters can’t go inside the hospital. I’ll make a statement and keep Rush away from the TV and off the internet. My loyalty’s to him.” He gave me another glance that felt like a warning. “But you’re going to have to help and learn fast to fend for yourself. The media aren’t your friends. Just say ‘no comment’ and don’t engage them. Understand?”

  I nodded.

  “Good girl. Maybe he did all right with you.”

  Brad turned the car onto a gravel driveway leading to a two-story farmhouse with a wraparound porch. Large trees were planted on either side of it, and I wondered if Rush had climbed them as a boy. When the car came to a stop, I pulled in a fortifying breath.

  Apparently in manager mode now, and no gentleman like his friend, Brad didn’t open my door after he climbed out of his side of the car. His long strides sure, he headed straight toward the house without looking back.

  I got out and followed him.

  “Come on.” Already on the porch, he held the screen door open for me and unlocked the front door.

  “Sorry.” I picked up my pace. “I’m still a little stiff from the plane.” And the stress, but I didn’t share. The media weren’t the only ones I needed to be wary of.

  “Living room.” Inside, he gestured to where we stood. Plaid sofa, two easy chairs, all faded and worn. A Christmas tree in the corner with a couple of presents beneath, reminding me of the one for Rush I’d left behind. “Bedrooms are upstairs. His mom’s room is at the back. His brother’s opposite. Rush’s room is on the right, the one with the guitar and Dylan posters.”

  “Got it.”

  “Kitchen’s through there.” Brad pointed at a pass-through on the other side of the living room. “Knowing his mom and the neighbors, it’s likely well stocked. Get yourself something to eat. I’m gonna let Rush know we’re in, and I need to make some calls.”

  “All right.” I couldn’t eat, not with my stomach in knots. But I could make sandwiches or something. Keep myself busy. Away from Brad.

  “Jewel?” he said, and I stopped. “Randy and Brenda will be here soon. Rush texted they just arrived at the hospital.”

  “Okay.” The knots in my stomach tightened.

  “Randy and Rush don’t get along.”

  “I know.”

  He nodded. “Well, he’s not your problem. She is.”

  • • •

  I gripped the edge of the kitchen sink and forced myself to take deep breaths. I couldn’t let on that she upset me.

  But none of my gran’s lessons were sticking. Instead of starving Brenda, I kept feeding her ammunition to zap me with at every turn.

  “There you are,” the beautiful blonde said as she breezed into the kitchen, wearing a navy two-piece business suit and heels. I was dressed more appropriately for the casual farm setting in my jeans and tee.

  “Did you need something?” I pasted on a smile, trying to ignore how her perfume made my eyes burn. Had she bathed in the stuff?

  Brenda wrinkled her nose. “Not if you’re making it.” She hadn’t been a fan of my sandwiches.

  “I’m just tidying up. Then I’m going up to Rush’s room.”

  Her sapphire-blue eyes narrowed. Every mention of Rush’s name from my lips seemed to trigger her temper. “Do you have permission to be in his room?”

  “Brenda.” Randy stepped into the kitchen.

  He had brown hair and gray eyes like Rush’s, but that was where the similarity between the brothers ended. Randy’s nose was too large, his lips too full. With his long legs, short torso, and thin frame, he reminded me of a terrier. The way he trailed along behind his wife reinforced that impression.

  “Jewel is his girlfriend.” Frowning at his wife, he scratched his ear, like a terrier with possible mange and bad taste in women. “She’s welcome here.”

  “This is my home.” Brenda stomped her foot. “Not his.”

  I winced. A hotel would have been so much better.

  “He’s my brother. This is a family matter.”

  “She’s not family.”

  “Listen,” I said. “I can—”

  “You stay. That’s what he wants. My brother always gets what he wants.” Randy sounded whiny and looked beaten down.

  “I don’t want to be any trouble,” I said. Moira was Randy’s mom too. He had to be wracked with worry like Rush. I felt bad for my derogatory inner commentary. “It’s an upsetting time for everyone.”

  “That you’re making worse,” Brenda said, her eyes narrowed like a cat’s.

  I curled my fingers into fists. “Again, I can leave.”

  “Can you give us a minute?” Randy said to me, waving a dismissive hand in the air. “Rush’s room is—”

  “I know where it is. Brad told me.”

  “All right then.” Randy gave me an imperious look.

  Relieved to escape, I slipped past them. Their raised voices chased me into the living room and up the stairs. Stepping into the first room on the right, I closed the door, successfully shutting them out.

  Sighing, I leaned my back into the wood and wished—not for the first time since Brenda and Randy arrived—that I had left with Brad to return to the hospital.

  My eyes watering, I glanced around the room. Twin bed beneath one of the windows. Bookshelves with trophies. Guitar case by a Dylan poster.

  Looked like I had the right room.

  I forgot to feel sorry for myself as I took a closer peek at the photos of Rush on the wall. In them, he looked very young with his hair shorn short, his expression guileless, and his stance unsure. He was cute, but I preferred the current version—more mature, cocky, and with his hair falling in his eyes.

  Then I saw a grouping of photos that appeared to have been freshly dusted. Rush and Brenda. He’d been happy, grinning adoringly at her, his arm slung around her shoulders. With a bow in her hair and a virginal smile, she had ruled his world.

  Deflated, I sank onto the bed. I used to be a girl like her. The type of girl you married.

  My cell dinged. I pulled it out of my pocket, hoping for Rush, but it was Cam.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey, where are you? The connection is terrible. I don’t hear the ocean. You sound like you’re in a tunnel.”

  “I’m on a farm in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Did you go back to Tennessee?”

  “No, I’m at Rush’s family’s house in Indiana. His mom’s in the hospital. She has a cerebral aneurysm. Her surgery’s in the morning.”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Earlier today, I mean yesterday. It’s late here.”

  “Is he okay
?”

  “He was all right when I left him. Mostly.” I frowned.

  “Why are you there if he’s at the hospital?”

  “He’s staying in her room. It’s a single bed.”

  “A single can fit two. It’d be cozy, but then I think cozy’s what you two are.”

  “Yeah. He took me to the Getty Museum yesterday, Cam. He told me he loves me.”

  “Whoa.” She was silent a moment, the ramifications of it hitting her. “That how it is for you too?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re there with who and why?”

  “His brother, who’s barely tolerable, and his sister-in-law, who’s also Rush’s ex-fiancée. The woman is a she-bitch straight from the pits of hell.”

  “She giving you shit?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “She’s jealous. She’s still into him.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Give her shit back. Channel a little of your Harley attitude.”

  Sighing, I said, “I don’t belong here, Cam.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “This is wholesome Hometown, USA.”

  “You’re worth more than any of that whacked group. Don’t be a kicked puppy. If Rush is what you want, kick that she-bitch back.”

  “His mom’s sick.”

  “So do it diplomatically. But get your ass back to that hospital. If he’s your man, stick by him.”

  Chapter 37

  * * *

  Rush

  “Jewel.” I rubbed sleep from my eyes, thinking I was dreaming. “What are you doing here? What time is it?”

  “Two in the morning, or somewhere around there. At least, that’s what time it was when the Uber guy dropped me off.”

  “We don’t have Uber in Pendleton.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to disagree,” she whispered over the beeping of my mom’s monitors. “But I called Brad, he used his app, and it worked. So here I am.”

  She shifted on her feet, looking adorable, sweet, and unsure of herself. I’d never been more relieved in my life to see anyone.

  “You were supposed to stay at the house.”

  “I don’t belong there. I belong with you.”

  And so she did.

  I threw back the thin piece-of-shit blanket and moved to the far edge to make room for her on the pullout. Looking more relieved than I felt, she unzipped her hoodie, dropped her bag on the floor, and set down my old guitar. I was surprised to see it, but then again, not so much.

  I smiled as she climbed into the pullout with me.

  “This is much better.” She tucked her body to mine, placing her hands on my chest.

  I wrapped my arm around her. “It is. Worlds better.”

  With Jewel here, I didn’t feel like I was flying through space untethered.

  I pulled her closer, anchoring myself to her. “Was Randy an ass to you?”

  “Brenda.”

  “I’ll take care of her in the morning. I’m busy now.” I kissed the top of Jewel’s head, inhaling deeply. Peach aromatherapy, my preferred healing balm.

  “How’s your mom been?” she asked softly.

  “Resting well now.” I stroked my fingers up and down Jewel’s arm. “They gave her something to relax. We talked for a while until she fell asleep.”

  “You did? What about?”

  “Stuff we hadn’t discussed in a long time.” Things that had comforted and unsettled me. It felt a lot like tying up loose ends. The surgeon’s talk of survival odds had probably rattled her too.

  “Such as?”

  “Her and my dad. How they felt about my leaving college.” I stopped stroking, and Jewel looked up at me.

  “That must have been tense.”

  “At first.” I resumed the mindless motion. Focusing on the creamy softness of her skin made the details easier to retell. “Emotions were always high on both sides. They wanted one thing for me, and I wanted another. They saw my taking a different path as a rejection. I never realized that before, but I can relate to it now. I don’t do well with rejection.”

  She nodded.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s pretty obvious.” I gave her a wry look. “Anyway, she told me how proud she was of me for my success, for striking out on my own and keeping at my dream until I made it what I wanted it to be.”

  “Is it what you want it to be?” In the low lighting, Jewel’s eyes appeared to be bronze as they searched mine.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” It’s what I’d been contemplating long after my mother fell asleep. “I think I was closer to it when I started out. But it could be that way again with the right focus, if I’m true to myself and my vision for my music. You helped me realize I wasn’t doing that anymore.”

  I brought up my hand to frame half of her pretty face.

  “I need the right people with me to support my dream and share my success. I’m fortunate to have a few. Brad. Jack. Ben. And now you.”

  In truth, she was the top one. I wanted to tell her how important she was and how much I needed her in my life, but it was too soon to lay that on her.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes darkened, shadowed with emotion. Whether she was happy or sad, I wasn’t sure. With my mom in that hospital bed, everything felt tenuous.

  I wanted to force the issue of Jewel’s feelings. I also wanted to turn back the clock and fix things with my mom and dad before so much time had been lost, but life didn’t work that way.

  You got some chances. You lost others.

  But it had hit home tonight that I needed to make the most of every single moment I was given with the ones I loved.

  • • •

  Jewel

  I drifted off to Rush stroking my arm, and woke later to the soft murmur of voices. Harmonized voices. Rush’s deep compelling one, and his mom’s softer emphatic one.

  “She’s awake.” Moira’s eyes, so like his, met mine.

  “Good morning,” I said uncertainly, sitting up and glancing around for a clock. Without a window in the room, it was difficult to tell the time.

  “It’s not quite morning.” Rush came around his mom’s bed and bent to kiss my cheek while holding the acoustic guitar I’d brought from his room close to his body.

  “Why are you up? Is everything okay?” Given the circumstances, and on so little rest, I felt discombobulated.

  “Mom wanted to talk.” Rush returned to her side, and when she reached for him, he took her hand and squeezed it. “Well, she wanted to visit with you and me before everyone else gets here.”

  “But why the guitar?” I tossed my hair out of my eyes and crossed my legs.

  “My girl seems to know I process better with it in my hands. Guess having one in every room in the condo gave it away. Or she just assumed my guitar is like her and her paintbrush.”

  “Rush told me you like art,” Moira said.

  “I do.”

  “Something you two have in common.”

  “Yes.” I hadn’t thought of it that way, but she was right.

  “He told me about your grandmother. I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You loved her very much.”

  Tears filled my eyes as I nodded. “She was my entire world.”

  “I’m sure she felt the same way about you.”

  “Before I left.” I dropped my chin.

  “Distance doesn’t change love.” Moira turned to look at her son. “Neither does a difference in goals. Not if you remember to love each other.”

  Rush gave her a small smile. “I love you, Mom.”

  My heart hurt at the glance they exchanged. It was buoyant with affection but weighted with apology, regret, and worry as well.

  “Could I take a picture of you two?” I asked. “I’d like to sketch you together. I can work on it in the waiting room, then give it to you as a gift when you come out of surgery.”

  “How thoughtful.” Moira gave me a sweet smile. “I’d love that. Two beautiful gifts. Light and love in unsettled places. Like the lyrics you were
sharing with me, son.”

  “Yes. Jewel brings out the best in me.” Rush stared across the room at me. My eyes burned from his statement while his blazed bright.

  “That’s all your father and I ever wanted for you. All any parent wants, I think. For their children to be the best they can be.”

  Rush leaned in to kiss her cheek. He reached out to brush away her tears, a tender caress, and as she looked up at him with adoration glowing in her eyes, I snapped a picture with my phone. They were so beautiful in that moment, I was afraid to breathe for fear I’d ruin it.

  But then it got better. As was Rush’s way, he sensed an unspoken need and filled it.

  Straightening, he lifted the guitar and strummed a soft chord. The sound flooded the room with his dream, replacing the uncertainty with a son’s hope and a mother’s love.

  Hey, feel the breeze blow

  Soon don’t you know

  It grows to a wind

  Life rushes along

  A bittersweet song

  Beginning to end

  Hope bring me home

  Love lead the way

  Back to the ones that matter

  Don’t let my life

  Go silently by

  Make my words really matter

  Time comes at a cost

  All moments lost

  Are never repaid

  So spend your hours wise

  Without compromise

  Don’t be afraid

  Hope bring me home

  Love lead the way

  Back to the ones that matter

  Don’t let my life

  Go silently by

  Make my words really matter

  Don’t think you can wait

  And leave it to fate

  Say what you need to say

  Before it’s too late

  Hope bring me home

  Love lead the way

  Back to the ones that matter

  Don’t let my life

  Go silently by

  Make my words really matter

  “She’s the right one, Rush,” Moira whispered, glancing at my face, which was as wet as theirs.

  He smiled at me. “She sure is.”