Country Heaven (38 page)

“I know you’re hurting,” she said, looking down at her son, who now had a hesitant smile on his face and was patting the dog, “but so is your Uncle Rye.”

And this time, after what he’d done for the kids, she couldn’t leave him alone with his sorrow. When she reached the staircase, he was already taking the stairs two at a time. She called his name, and he stopped halfway up, one hand on the polished wood railing.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “For thinking of the children.”

“I saw a kitten and thought about buying it for you,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I remember you asking Mama for one when we were growing up, but I didn’t know if you’d still want one.”

She reached for the pearls at her neck and wrapped her fingers around them. He’d thought of her? He’d remembered? The sweetness of it almost stopped her breath. Where had her black sheep brother gone? Annabelle’s favorite nursery rhyme ran through her head:
Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes, sir, yes, sir, three bags full.

Yes, his hands were full. And he was opening them up to her and the kids. And wasting away before her eyes… After just getting him back, she couldn’t stand to lose him again. She was grieving the mistakes she’d made, and she could see him doing the same.

“I’m too old for a kitten, but getting dogs for the kids was so sweet of you, Rye,” she said, her voice breaking. “You’ve been…wonderful.”

“They’re only puppies, Tammy. If you need me, I’ll be in the studio.” He tromped up the stairs.

She didn’t remind him he was going the wrong way. His studio was on the lower level.

“Mama, there’s a man out here,” Annabelle cried from behind her.

Tammy darted to the front door, worried to hear that someone had gotten through the gate without her knowing. A man dressed in khaki shorts and a gray T–shirt was crouched down comfortably on the porch, petting Annabelle’s dog. He had thick brown hair, and when he looked up, she felt her breath stop at the sight of his dimpled smile and arctic blue eyes.

“Hi there, you must be Tammy.” He stood and held out a hand. “I’m John Parker McGuiness, an old friend of Rye’s. I decided to finally come over to meet y’all. He’s told me a lot about you and the kids. Welcome to Dare River.”

Tammy smoothed her hands down her raspberry linen top, grateful that she’d bothered to dress nicely like she always used to…even though she never went anywhere other than to the market and Rory’s school. Somehow, seeing that put–together woman in the mirror each morning was a small comfort.

“I’m Tammy.” Rye hadn’t told her to expect company. The man’s handshake was warm and firm.

His mouth curved. “I know that.”

Heavens, she was getting flustered. “Of course. And these are my children Annabelle and Rory. And these are the new puppies Rye has bought them.”

He tugged on Annabelle’s hair, making her giggle. “We’ve met, doggies and all. Your uncle is really glad to have y’all here.”

Rory just eyed him with suspicion and walked to Tammy’s side with his leashed puppy, like they were her little guardians. Tammy didn’t know what to do with her hands, so crossed them over her body. “Ah, how do you know Rye?”

J.P. winked at Rory, who stood still while the puppy jumped excitedly around him.

“We went to school together and have been friends ever since.”

A Vandy alum? Who knew Rye had college friends? Even though they’d been living together for over a month now, they hadn’t discussed such things, wrapped up in their own worlds of grief. Tammy pointed to the mountain bike propped against the side of the house. “You live close by?”

He scratched Rory’s puppy, getting him to roll onto his belly. “Yep. Up river. About ten miles. It’s a good ride.”

Ten miles? His tan forearms gleamed with a sheen of sweat, and while she’d never liked seeing men heated from the outdoors, she couldn’t seem to look away.

“Rye inside?” he drawled.

“Yes,” she murmured. “He’s probably in his studio. I’ll show you.”

His dimple winked again as he stood, all tall and lean, towering over her. “I know my way. It’s nice out just now. You should stay out here with the kids and get to know the puppies better. Perhaps Rye and I can put up a tree swing for the kids sometime soon.” His eyes tracked across the lawn. “There are some nice trees for it.”

Annabelle clapped her hands. “Yes, yes,” she cried.

“That would be lovely.” Hadn’t she promised herself she’d get the kids to play outside more? Get dirty like other kids? She’d become a neat–freak mommy, and it was time for that to stop.

“I’ll see y’all later then. It was good to meet you, Tammy.”

He strolled through the door. When he faded from view, she fanned herself, feeling warm. Must be the heat. What was wrong with her? Well, she hadn’t seen a lot of men for some time. Hadn’t Sterling been jealous, angry when they’d come home from a dance at the country club? She’d stopped talking to men, and it was jarring to return to it, especially with one who was so handsome.

Annabelle grabbed her hand, holding the pink leash, the dog on the end chirping out a bark. “Come on, Mama. Let’s take Barbie for a walk.”

She shook off the memories and extended her hand to Rory. “Come with us.”

There was a smile on his face when she took his hand, and hope sparked inside her. She prayed the puppy would help him heal. She couldn’t remember him truly being a little boy. And she was deeply afraid it was her fault.

Every night she prayed it wasn’t too late.

***

Rye was staring down at his legal pad when J.P. entered the room. He had been so flustered earlier that he’d actually gone the wrong way to get to his studio—imagine that, getting lost in his own house—and he still felt out of sorts..

“Well, lookee here,” Rye said when J.P. walked in. “You’re not wearing one of your fancy suits for once.”

J.P. plopped down on his massive leather couch. “I biked over. It’s a nice day. Lyrics coming along any better?”

Rye scowled. “No, dammit.”

“Hmm. Well, I met your family. Your niece is as sweet as they come, but the boy’s guarded. Your sister is, too, but she’s lovely. I can’t say I see any family resemblance.”

“Ha ha. You just came over to spy since I told all of y’all to stay clear of the house for a while.”

He shrugged. “We understand that you want them to have some space after everything they’ve been through, but as the nicest guy in our set, I was given the honor of coming over to check on you. How are things going in Familyville?”

Rye reached into his mini–fridge and pulled out a couple of beers, handing one to his friend after he popped them open. He took a long draw from the bottle to wet his dry throat. Christ, he felt raw after giving the kids the puppies. And scribbling down gibberish for lyrics wasn’t helping his mood.

“I don’t know what to do with Tammy. She and I were never close growing up. Amelia Ann’s going to be fine. She’s got fire. She’s been running around Nashville like a newly liberated woman.”

“She’s been given her freedom,” J.P. commented. “Heady stuff.”

Yeah, and his freedom seemed to have vanished at the same time. Funny how he wasn’t missing it. “Tammy’s different. She’s controlled and unsure. Doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself now that she doesn’t have her own house to take care of and appearances to keep up.”

J.P. rested his beer against his chest as he leaned back on the sofa. “She’s a different woman with different experiences. Can’t imagine what it must have been like to be married to that piece of work.”

Even now, the memory of what Sterling had done burned Rye’s ass. When he’d asked her—in a pretty awkward fashion—if she wanted him to do anything about Sterling hurting her, she’d only responded with a stiff shake of her head. They’d never spoken of it again, and he still had bad dreams about what might have happened between them.

“Her life was blown apart,” J.P. said. “Now, she’s divorced and a single mama, living in a new city with a brother she doesn’t know well, of whom she’s never completely approved. Must be hard for her to reconcile thinking of you as a sinner when you’ve showed recent signs of being a saint.”

Rye growled. “I ain’t no saint.” Hadn’t his missteps with Tory proven that?

J.P.’s dimple winked when his mouth tipped up. “Sinners don’t buy puppies for children.” He chuckled. “Hey, that’s a pretty good song lyric. Maybe you can use that.”

“Shut up, J.P.”

“Your sister needs to discover who she is now and what she wants to become. Right now, all she knows is that she’s a mama. Beyond that, I’d say the rest is about as fuzzy as a pussy willow. My mama felt the same after Daddy took off until she became a preacher. Then she was right as rain.”

Rye glared at him. He’d swear J.P. must have picked up this annoying therapy talk from his mama by osmosis. “Well, your sisters turned out all right. Not so sure about you.”

J.P.’s shoulders shook with laughter. “You really are out of sorts. So, tell me. What does Tammy like?”

He threw aside the legal pad. “Shit, how do I know? Didn’t you just tell me that we’re basically strangers?”

J.P. raised a brow. “Work with me here, Crenshaw. I’m trying to think of something she could do, on the professional side, to become more independent. Does she like to host parties? God knows you do. Although with the kids around, your future events may need to be more upscale. No more slutty bunny costumes…unless it’s Easter.”

“Funny.” He’d had those parties in the past, ones where women threw themselves at him left and right. Now the thought had no appeal for him. Tory had erased his passion for the two things he’d once loved most: food and women. And he wondered if he’d ever get it back.

“I aim to entertain.”

Rye tipped his head back and studied the beams running across the studio ceiling, thinking. “You’re right about one thing, Tammy’s a Hollins. She was raised to host parties.”

“You were raised to be a lawyer. How’d that work out for you?”

“I don’t know why I ever let you come over. You’re always such a dick.”

J.P.’s chuckles filled the room. “Well, you’re an asshole and that beats being a dick any day. Nice lyric, but a little too racy for your fans. So, have you finally decided to crawl on all fours to get Tory back?”

Rye jerked at the sound of her name, spilling his beer. “Shit.”

“Come on, you’re a miserable son of a bitch because you
miss
her. Admit it. You were a wreck in Padre Island. Rhett and I have never seen you drink like that. Even Clayton was impressed when I told him. We’re all worried about you, Rye.”

Rye grunted. “So, I miss her. What the hell does that change? I screwed up and accused her of selling me and my family out to the tabloids. I hurt her beyond repair. She wouldn’t accept my apology. Heck, she’s hurting for money, but she wouldn’t even let me buy her house.”

“You never even told her why you wanted to do it,” J.P. said.

“I don’t have anything to offer her, J.P, and I can’t make things right.”

J.P. leaned forward. “You have plenty to offer her, but that, my friend, is your choice.” He threw his bottle in the trash can, on top of all the balled up yellow paper. “You’re not acting like the wild Rye Crenshaw everyone knew around town, are you? You’ve poured all your energy into taking care of your family. That kind of thing means something to a woman.”

He clutched his beer as he thought back to Tory’s parting words. Wasn’t he trying to do his best, not just for his family, but to prove to her that he could be the stable anchor they needed? “I’m doing…what needs doing right now.”

“Fine. You keep telling yourself that. I’ve said my piece, and now I’m going to run on home and change. I’m meeting Clayton tonight. You’re welcome to join us, but only if you put that junkyard dog persona away. If you’re not careful, you’re going to scare those new puppies so much they’ll take to peeing on your carpet.”

Rye took a long pull from the bottle, but he couldn’t even taste the beer. “Before you go, please tell me you’ve found something new on the leak to the tabloid. This is taking too goddamn long and the trail is almost arctic by now.”

“There’s nothing new, I’m afraid, and I’m just as frustrated as you are.” J.P. had a hand on the door when he turned. “Let’s review what we know. Whoever did it was careful. The person who did this wasn’t after any money. That’s why there’s no trail.”

“My family has sworn to me that Sterling would be too concerned with his reputation to do such a thing, but you should have seen his face when he told me he’d make me pay. My gut tells me it’s him.”

“We’re still looking at him, Rye, but we need to be careful. He’s a well respected lawyer, and we have similar associates. So does your daddy.”

Rye’s hands clenched around the bottle. “I want to cut his balls off for hurting Tammy and the kids.”

“Don’t worry. We’re going to fry whoever did this. After meeting your sister and seeing the kids, I have even more motivation. She’s a real Southern lady, and this has cut her deep.”

Rye rubbed his neck. J.P. had always been able to read people well. “Yes, it has. I’ll think about what you said. About finding something for her to do.”

“I know you will. And you’re a heck of a lot nicer than you let on. Why do you think we’ve stayed friends so long?”

Snorting was his best response, since he wasn’t ready to have a Hallmark moment with his friend.

“And I have a suggestion for how you can fix your writer’s block.”

Since J.P. was a master with lyrics, Rye grabbed his legal pad to jot down his advice. “What?”

“Close your eyes.”

Rye glared at him before slamming his eyes shut.

“I want you to tell me the first thing that comes to your mind. Finish the sentence. And don’t think. Having your heart broken is like …”

Rye’s heart sputtered at the words, but his mind popped out a response without effort. “It’s like someone’s put holes in it with a fucking twelve–gauge shotgun.” His eyes opened when a few musical notes popped into his head.

J.P.’s infernal dimple winked. “Write what you know, Crenshaw. But I’d leave ‘fucking’ out. Oh, and I told your sister we should put a tree swing up. I can come by tomorrow and help if you’d like.”