Country Heaven (36 page)

It had never happened to him before, but he was sure his lip trembled.

“Goodbye, Rye.”

When the door closed behind her, he stared at it for a long moment before finally slamming his fist into it.

When he headed back to his suite and entered the sitting room, a birthday cake was waiting for him there. He approached it wearily, the three layers of white frosting giving him pause. Though elegantly decorated, it seemed almost too simple to be from one of the gourmet bakeries in Memphis. And then he spotted the cake’s centerpiece—a plastic Elvis figure in a white jump suit.

His breath rushed out, and he knew in that moment it was the cake Tory had baked for him as his surprise.

There was a cake knife and server, and a plate beside it. As he drew closer, he stumbled. It smelled like her, and he knew it would taste like her too.

There was no fighting the temptation of eating the final thing she’d cooked for him. It lured him like a siren. He forked a morsel, not bothering to cut a piece. The frosting hit his mouth first and then the spongy, white cake knocked his taste buds out of the ballpark. He grabbed a napkin and gagged, unable to force it down. It tasted like it was mixed with the hemlock of broken promises and bruised hearts. As Tory’s face swam in his mind, he put a hand out and lowered himself slowly into a nearby chair, sick beyond record.

She was truly gone.

Why did he fear he’d never be the same?

***

The plane ride was terrible. All Tory could think about was Rye’s betrayal. Well, what had she been expecting? This was real life—and fairy tales didn’t happen to girls like her. Beastly country singers didn’t suddenly turn into nice guys. Cooks and servant girls didn’t become princesses.

Hadn’t she been alone for a while now? You’d think she would have learned from it.

Then she thought of Rory, how he’d told her she wasn’t alone anymore, that
he
would be her family, and she had to reach for a tissue to dab away her tears.

By the time Tory made it home via the Super Shuttle—she’d told Myra not to pick her up—her travel Kleenex had run out. She hauled her suitcase into the empty house, and wrinkled her nose at the stuffy smell. Sighing, she carted her baggage to her bedroom.

After taking a shower, she poured herself a glass of wine and settled onto the couch. When she heard the knock on the door, she trudged over to answer it on wooden legs. Myra’s smile fell when she opened it.

“Oh, honey,” she murmured and opened her arms.

Tory pressed her face into the other woman’s shoulder and cried. Myra held her tight and led her inside after a few minutes.

“Okay, now, come on and tell me,” she said, patting the place on the couch beside her.

Tory told her everything, not caring about confidentiality anymore. Myra’s eyes shone bright with tears a couple of times, but she didn’t let herself cry. She rubbed her hand up and down Tory’s arm as if to warm her.

“So, he’s a troubled and confused man, and he hurt you terribly,” she murmured.

Tory leaned against her. “Yes, and I knew it—except there was more to him, Myra. So much more. And then he…”

Myra made a tsking noise with her tongue. “We’ll have to hope and pray he comes around then—for himself and for his family. And maybe even for you.”

“No, not when everything we shared couldn’t balance his inability to trust.”

Myra grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Tory, something arrived in the mail a few days ago. I decided to wait to tell you because I knew you were coming home soon. Now seems like the perfect time.” The thick manila envelope she drew out of her purse made Tory’s heart race.

She tore it open and sped through the letter, pulling out her advance check. “Oh, my God! My grant from Fulbright came through. I’m going to Africa,” she said.

For four months. The timing couldn’t be better, and since all of her expenses would be covered, it would help her financial situation.

“You can rent the house while you’re away,” Myra said. “Maybe some student hasn’t found housing yet or something fell through. I’ll keep looking after the bills, but you’ll have to leave your checkbook this time. I don’t think you’ll have a phone where you’re going.”

No, she’d be living in a tent, without any air conditioner or running water in sight.

“Tory, don’t lose faith. I know this thing with Rye has hurt you, but your heart will heal. There’s still a man out there for you, I promise.” Myra’s wink was saucy. “Maybe you’ll even find him in Africa like Meryl did in
Out of Africa.”

“Yeah, and she got syphilis and went bankrupt.”

“Good point. Let’s stick to a better version.”

As Myra continued to chatter on cheerily, Tory focused on steering herself away from the past, trying desperately to erase one thought: how was she supposed to give her heart to someone else when it belonged to Rye?

***

A week later, she was packing, trying not to think about Rye and his sisters in the house in Dare River. He’d spun a magical picture of his home, so much so that Tory could practically see the way the sunlight turned the river into diamonds when he took his fishing pole down there to catch trout or catfish.

Keeping her promise to Rory had been hard, but she’d told the little boy she would keep in touch. He’d written down Tammy’s phone number for her in a purple magic marker, and a few days ago, she’d dialed it into her phone. After exchanging empty pleasantries with Tammy, Tory had talked to Rory about her trip and all the animals she’d see in Kenya.

She had a good cry after saying goodbye. It seemed to be happening as regularly as clock–work lately. Part of her hoped Rory would forget her. Calling him was too hard because of the continued link to Rye, especially since the little boy would soon be living with him.

There was more packing to do, so she threw another pair of shoes in her suitcase. She was almost done when the phone rang.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Tory, it’s Connie Perkins. I know you’re trying to rent the house, but I think my news will change your mind.”

A few students had come to look at the house, but no one had called her back yet.
“Okay.”

“Oh, Tory, it’s simply the most incredible news.” Her voice bubbled like candy before it cooled. “I’ve just received an incredible offer on the house. And you won’t believe who it’s from. Rye Crenshaw! Those media reports about you two getting cozy must be true after all.”

Her hand fumbled the phone. He’d made an offer on her house!
Why?

“His manager, Georgia Chandler, just sent in their offer today, and it’s twenty thousand more than the asking price as a bonus for you. Can you believe it? Plus, he wants to sign it back over to you. You’ll be free and clear of the mortgage, but you’ll still have a place to live! Oh, Tory it’s simply an answer to prayer. I’ve heard about celebrities doing things like this, but I never thought I’d play a part.”

Anger burned through her. What the hell did he think she was? Some mistress he could pay off? If it was his way of assuaging his guilt, it wasn’t enough. Especially when he hadn’t even bothered to make the call himself.

“I just need to pop by with the papers. Is today good? I know you’re leaving soon.”

Even though it would make her life harder, she knew what she had to do. She’d feel guilty taking his money, and it wouldn’t change what had happened between them.

“Tell him no,” she said flatly.

Connie’s chuckling broke off. “What’d you say?”

“I said, I want you to tell him no, Connie.”

“But Tory—”

“I’ll find someone to rent it for the semester.” And she prayed she was right. “You can put it back on the market when I return around Christmas.”

There was a quiet pause. “Tory, you don’t seem to understand. Once he signs it back to you, it’s yours. You can still rent it out like you planned. In fact that’s wise. Give you some extra income.”

“Connie, please understand.” She took a breath, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. “I’m not selling this house to Rye Crenshaw. Please tell him we’ve rejected the offer.”

“Tory, I don’t know what happened between you two, but you’re not thinking right,” she continued. “This is your best chance. You know how old that house is, what we’re up against in this market.”

Tory looked at the ceiling, at the small lines in the plaster like old wrinkles. “I know, Connie, but please don’t question me on this. Just tell him no.”

“All right, dear, if that’s what you want.”

“I have to go, Connie.” She clicked off and rolled into a ball on the bed, tears falling freely now.

Thank God, she was leaving tomorrow.

***

When Georgia called him and told him Tory had refused his offer on the house, Rye reached for the bottle of Johnnie Walker that hadn’t been out of reach since he last saw her. The ocean thundered and cracked against the beach in Padre Island, and he just wanted to punch at it with his fists. Why wouldn’t she let him do this? Goddammit, he felt guilty about how he’d treated her, and he hadn’t been able to stop worrying about her financial situation.

J.P. looked up from his James Patterson novel, and his long–time friend, poker champion Rhett Butler Blaylock, glanced over with a frown.

“What?” Rhett said. “You look like you’re about ready to start another bender.”

The shot he poured went down easy. “Tory refused my offer.”

J.P. grabbed the bottle away from him when he made another move for it.

“All this drinking’s dulled your reflexes,” Rhett said. He’d started to act like a mother hen since getting hitched to Abbie Maven. Usually they partied wild when they were together, but not anymore.

“Seems to me this girl has character,” J.P. said. “Aren’t you going to sober up soon? We leave tomorrow, and traveling with a hangover is hell. Not to mention that your family will be arriving in Dare River in a couple days.”

“When did you turn into my fucking babysitter?” he snarled. Since losing Tory, he’d been striking out at pretty much anything that moved.

J.P. stretched back. “Since I lost the coin toss with Clayton, and he bowed out this year, leaving you to Rhett and me.”

Rhett tipped his hand to the cowboy hat he wore. They all had on swimming trunks and cowboy hats.

“You don’t need any more incidents,” Rhett said. “Let me see what the chef cooked up today. If we can’t stop you from drinking like a fish, at least we can get you to eat.”

J.P. had hired a private chef since everyone who knew Rye knew about his love for good food, but he couldn’t even stand the smell of food right now. It reminded him of her, and the fact that she’d never cook for him again.

He was pathetic, acting like a girl, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

“You should call her, you know,” Rhett said. “Explain why you wanted to buy her the house. How is she supposed to know what to think of that?”

When J.P. only nodded in agreement, Rye heaved himself out of the chaise and threw himself into the hammock strung up between two palm trees. It swung madly, and he had to throw his hand to the ground to keep from falling out. What good would talking to her do? She hadn’t accepted his apology in person. And it didn’t sound like time would heal her wounds.

“I take it from that growl that you won’t,” J.P. said. “All right. Have it your way, but if you ask me, she’s the first woman who’s refused to take money from you. That says a lot.”

“I agree,” Rhett said.

Rye cradled his hands under his head and stared up at the swaying palm trees. “Shut up.” And he almost winced—he knew he shouldn’t talk to his friends that way—but dammit, everyone seemed to be telling him how wrong he was lately. And didn’t he know it? Didn’t he regret every mistake he’d made with Tory?

And Tory’s last words to him kept echoing in his mind. What if he couldn’t change and be the kind of person his family needed? She was right. He had to step up for them, and he was afraid he couldn’t. He swatted away a fly buzzing around his head.

Nausea rolled over him like ocean waves.

Tory was better off without him, but deep down he feared he wasn’t better off without her.

The kernel of good,
Is inside every man.
Even a man like me.
I fight it,
But its power has dug deep inside me.
It whispers in the dark,
Even when I’m partying on the beach.
Yes, I am,
A good man.
Don’t fight it.
It won’t make me weak.
Yes, I can.
Be a good man.
Come on.
Give into the seeds.

Rye Crenshaw’s Number One Hit, “Kernel of Good In a Man”

Chapter 23

T
he day before his sisters arrived with the kids, Rye sobered up and shaved the beard he’d grown, leaving his signature goatee. Rhett, J.P., and Clayton had hung out with him the night before, watching him like a hawk and helping him make sure everything was ready for his family. What an odd sensation it was to see the four rooms that had been decorated for his family. It made his ten–bedroom mansion feel strange, like someone else’s home. Like a real home. The kids’ rooms—bubble gum pink walls for Annabelle and girly dolls on a twin bed decked out in white and black polka dots, and a sailor–blue trundle bed for Rory with fire trucks painted on the front—made his head spin. Tammy’s pale blue room boasted a whimsical four–poster with white netting dotted with butterflies draping the posts.

He was going to let them change anything they wanted, but at least the new décor was more welcoming than his masculine taste had been. And he’d give Amelia Ann his credit card so she could outfit her housing exactly as she wanted, since she wanted to live on her own.

Before flying back to Dare Valley, Rhett had told Rye to call when he wanted to talk turkey. Rhett, J.P., and Clayton were interfering sons of bitches sometimes, but he was grateful for their friendship, particularly now that his whole life was up in the air.

When the gate called to announce his sisters’ arrival, he stepped out of the house to meet them, his eyes tracking to Dare River. The first time he saw this house with the river cutting across it, he knew he was home. The red brick plantation–style house had eight columns, a sweeping veranda, tall French windows and doors, a mix of balconies, a gabled roof, two fireplaces flanking the sides, and black shutters. The peace he found here, away from the stage lights and the cameras, gave him fuel for his music. In Dare River, there was a special way the wind blew, the trees swayed, and the river sounded. Something about it just helped him hear the music better.