Country Heaven (27 page)

Tory blinked back tears. “I’m sure she does. She’s lucky to have you for a brother. I always wished I had a brother.”

He studied her with a seriousness beyond his age. “Don’t you have a family?”

“No, I don’t,” she said softly. “My grandpa just died. He was the only one left.”

“What happened to your mama and daddy?”

“They died in a car accident when I was little.”

“Oh.” His brows knit together like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “So, your whole family’s in heaven?”

Tory wiped away a tear before it could fall. The little boy’s faith seeped into the cracks of her heart, and in that moment, she had a surer answer to that question than she’d been able to muster for some time. “Yes, I hope so.”

“That’s sad. Do you miss them?” he asked.

“Very much,” she responded.

His body edged closer, smelling of boy sweat and forest.

“Do you think my family would miss me if I ran away?”

Oh, baby. She wanted to hug him, but knew it would be the wrong move. “Of course they would. Your mama was crying when I left, and so was Annabelle.” She raised a tentative hand and brushed the damp blond hair off his forehead.

“My Daddy wouldn’t. He doesn’t love us.”

In that moment, she was glad Rye had punched Sterling. If he hadn’t, she would have. How could he make his own son think such a thing? Tory put an arm around him. “I’ll bet he does. You’re a sweet boy.” She could lie to a little boy about something this important, right?

Rory rubbed his head against her shoulder. “No, he doesn’t. I heard Mama fighting with Granddaddy and Uncle Rye. I’m glad Uncle Rye hit Daddy.
I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.”

Tory hugged the boy tight. His usual reserve snapped, and he clung to her. She smoothed his hair and rubbed his back—anything to give him comfort.

“Rory, even if only
one
person loved you like your mama does, it would be worth going back.”

Pushing away, he put a finger to his lips like he was thinking. “You’re right. Annabelle and Mama love me. And Granddad and Grandmama and Amelia Ann.” He leaned into her again, ducking his head into her shoulder. “I like you too. I’m glad our names sound alike.”

Could she choke out an answer through her tight throat? “Me too,” she whispered. When she held out her hand, he took it. “How about we see if that three–wheeler over there has a key? That way we can get home faster.”

“It does,” he told her.

He was right, and as soon as they were both situated in the vehicle, wearing helmets, she turned the key dangling in the ignition. The engine thundered to life.

“You hang on tight now.”

His little arms gripped her waist. She hadn’t ridden a three–wheeler since high school, but it came back to her with ease, and she headed in Rye’s direction. When she spotted him and Buster near an enormous oak tree, she braced herself as the dog came bounding toward them.

“You found him,” Rye called. He plucked Rory off the seat and hugged him tight against his chest, and the boy wrapped his little arms around him.

His hazel eyes met hers, shining so bright, and in that moment she knew she loved Rye with all her heart. There was no holding back now.

“Thank God.”

When he pressed his face into the boy’s hair, she bit her lip as the dog danced around them, wired from the chase.

“You scared us, son.”

“I know, sir,” he murmured. “My tummy hurts.”

“No doubt.” Rye eased back. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m your Uncle Rye, not
sir.
I know we don’t know each other well yet, but that’s about to change.”

As he hugged the boy again, Tory stepped off the three–wheeler, keeping a wary eye on Buster.

“Why don’t you take him back?” she said. “I’ll walk.”

“No!” Rory yelled. “We’re not leaving her.” He shrugged free of Rye’s embrace and took Tory’s hand.

Now what was that all about?

“All right, son,” Rye said. “She goes with us. I didn’t want to leave her behind either.” He sent Buster home with a firm command. “Do you know he picked up your scent, Rory?”

“He’s a good dog, Uncle Rye.”

He picked Rory up and placed him in front before settling into the seat. When he turned to look at Tory, he gave her a big smile. “Good thing you’re so little. It’s going to be a bit tight, but it’s not far, and I’ll go real slow.”

When she climbed on, she pressed her face into his back, struggling with tears. Oh this man. This boy.

They’d barely cleared the woods when Tammy screamed out Rory’s name. Rye halted the three–wheeler and killed the engine, then lifted Rory from his seat and unbuckled the boy’s helmet.

“Run to your mama, son. It’ll make her feel better.”

Rory took off, arms pumping. When he reached Tammy, both of them fell to their knees, clutching each other, making room for a crying Annabelle to join them.

“What did you tell him to make him come back?” Rye asked.

Tory took off her helmet off and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I told him that so long as there’s one person who loves you, it doesn’t matter how bad things get. You always have to go back.”

Rye turned and caressed her cheek. “You’re one hell of a woman.”

She slid off the three–wheeler, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to go into his arms. His embrace was sweet, his kiss gentle. Then he tucked her under his arm and led her back toward the house.

Hampton raised one hand in greeting, using the other to grip the porch rail. His face was haggard.

You all right, Daddy?” Rye called.

“Aged me twenty years.”

“Me, too.”

Rory pulled away from Tammy as they approached and crooked a finger at Tory. She went down on one knee in front of him.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’ll be your family, I promise.”

She blinked back tears as she smoothed down his hair and rubbed a spot of dirt from his face. “That’s the most precious thing anyone has ever said to me. You go home with your family now, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As he ran to take Tammy’s hand, Tory took a moment to study Rye’s sister. She was disheveled for the second time in their acquaintance, her hair in wild clumps, mascara streaked down her face. She looked vulnerable—and like a stranger to the woman she’d first met, all smooth and polished. Her unpainted mouth trembled.

“Thank you, Tory. And Rye,” she added in a whisper, grabbing Annabelle’s hand with her free one. “We’re staying at Hollinswood tonight.”

“Good idea,” Rye responded. “I’ll take Daddy and follow you. We’ll talk to Mama with you.”

Rory tugged on Tammy’s hand. “I want Tory to come too. She shouldn’t be alone.”

His sweet words humbled her. “I’ll be all right, Rory,” she said. “You go with your family.”

“No, you’re coming with us.” He walked over and grabbed her hand. “You remember what I said?”

How could she forget? And while she didn’t want to go to the manor house, she nodded because Rory wanted it.

“Then that’s enough of that,” he said in a grown–up voice.

Tammy’s eyes widened, and Rye strode forward. “Rory, you sound like your Granddaddy Crenshaw. How about I tell you and Annabelle about him at bedtime tonight? You would have liked him a whole lot.”

“I need to turn the stove off,” Tory murmured, suddenly remembering the pot roast.

“I just checked on it,” Tammy said. “Why don’t you bring it up to the house?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll go pack it up. Be right back.”

Tory arranged the food in a couple of brown grocery bags. When Rye strode in, she nodded her head to the counter. “Could you grab the chocolate chip pie and one of the sacks?”

“What did Rory say to you?” he asked, doing as she’d asked.

“That’s between us for now.” It held so much meaning for her that she wasn’t ready to share it, not even with the man who held her heart.

He stepped in front of her. “Why won’t you tell me?”

Her heart pounded faster with his closeness. “Because it meant a lot to that little boy, and I’m not sure he wants anyone else to know.” There was truth in that.

“Do you think I would do anything to hurt him?”

“Never. I’m just not ready to tell you.”

His jaw clenched, the only sign that he didn’t like her response. “We need to go. They’re waiting for us.”

Rory waved out the SUV window when Tory emerged. She smiled at him, her eyes burning with held back tears again. When had she become so involved with this family—this dysfunctional, hurting family—that she was willing to risk being hurt?

Rye took her bags and started arranging the food in the back of his father’s SUV. It felt normal, somehow—like domestic moments like this happened all the time with them. She wedged the pie in the corner so it wouldn’t slide and heaved a sigh. Perhaps her food would help the others.

“Buckle up,” he muttered, opening the back door for her.

Hampton turned around in his seat as Tory slid in. “Seems like the men in this family really like you, Ms. Simmons. I hope you know how rare that is. We’re not easy to get along with.”

She didn’t believe that anymore.

I don’t want silent dinners no more.
Where even the dog don’t come ‘round anymore.
And all that can be heard is a fly,
Beating against the screened porch.
I want a healthy dose of noise.
My woman watching me with joy.
Smiling her sweet smile.
The one reserved just for me.
I want my kids to chatter about their day.
Giggle over little things and play.
And bow their heads to pray.
Silence with others around is hell.
I don’t want to hear that sound again.
I don’t want to hear it anymore.

Rye Crenshaw’s Number One Hit, “Silent No More”

Chapter 15

A
fter just a few moments at the house Rye wanted to duck back out. Mama immediately took Rory to task for being filthy and gave Rye a scorching look that told him as clear as any words that she’d heard all about his skirmish with Sterling. Then she gave Daddy a piece of her mind for disappearing, but he shut her down and announced they were having a family dinner. Unaccustomed to Daddy challenging her authority, everyone waited in silence to see how she’d respond. She finally tapped two perfectly manicured pink fingernails against her emerald necklace and gave a full–watt smile, announcing her intention to make cocktails. Rye wanted a bourbon—straight up.

At the threshold to the parlor, Mama said, “Tammy, dear, why don’t you take Rory upstairs and clean him up? He looks like he’s been rollin’ around in the dirt. And Tory, since my son seems to think so highly of your cooking abilities, I’m sure you can finish everything up in the kitchen.”

Rye ground his teeth. “Leave her be, Mama.”

Tory just squeezed his hand before heading off with the pot roast.

When they sat down in the dining room, the gold damask tablecloth showcasing the Hollins china—white porcelain with a gold rim—everyone was as silent as a tomb. Mama looked like she’d sucked the lemon in her cosmopolitan, and Amelia Anne’s eyes fairly shouted questions about what had happened earlier. Rye noticed Rory grab Tory’s hand and wondered again what the boy had said to her.

Fortunately the roast she’d made was large enough to serve their crew, and she’d wisely created a few additional sides of sugar snap peas and green beans to add to the potatoes.

After taking the first bite of Tory’s food, the tense atmosphere at the table changed. Rye almost smiled, Daddy’s eyelids fluttered, and Annabelle outright giggled. Everyone reached for more—except for Mama. She didn’t touch the food, well aware that it was a grave insult to the chef.

“This is so good,” Annabelle cried, spooning in another carrot. “What’s it called again?”

Tory’s mouth lifted. “Chinese Pot Roast.”

“Like people in China?” Rory asked. “I thought they ate rice.”

Tory gave a nervous laugh. “Well, I don’t know why my Grandma called it that, but I’m glad you like it.”

Hampton lifted his glass to her. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for sharing your talent with us. I can see why Rye thinks so highly of your cooking.”

Rye winked at Tory, whose face instantly went red. When the doorbell rang, Mama rose quickly. Since no one solicited at dinnertime in Meade, Rye had a bad feeling. Everyone’s eyes followed her.

Rye heard Tammy’s sharp intake when the sound of low conversation filtered to the table, and he instantly knew who it was. Mama had invited Sterling. He started to stand, but Daddy put a hand on his arm.

When Sterling came in, his arm linked through Mama’s, Rye wished he’d punched him in the face. Still, he’d known that would generate more talk, so he’d gone for the stomach.

Mama smiled, but her face remained frozen, as if she’d received a Botox injection at the beauty shop that afternoon. “I called Sterling to join our family dinner.”

Daddy rose to his feet, which was when Rye realized why he’d stopped him. This was
his
house. He was the one who needed to make a stand.

“Until his behavior changes, he is not welcome here,” Daddy said.

Mama gasped. “But Hampton—”

“Your help is not needed, Margaret. Rye and I have already spoken to Sterling. Haven’t we, son?”

His use of son was intentional. Sterling’s face paled.

Rye let his sneer loose. “Yes, sir, we had a right pleasant conversation. Didn’t we, Sterling?”

Mama straightened her spine as if she were preparing for battle. “Amelia Ann, please take the children up for their bath. It’s been a long day for them. Tory, you can clean up the dishes. And the rest of us can retire to your study, Hampton.”

“No, I want Tory to come with me,” Rory cried.

She met Rye’s eyes as she took the boy’s hand. “Okay, I’ll come with you guys if your Aunt Amelia doesn’t mind.”

His sister’s nod was little more than a wobble of her head. When they walked out, Rye was comforted by the thought that the little ones would be well cared for. He walked to Tammy’s side in a show of support and settled a hand on her shoulder, but he broke the contact when she flinched.