Country Heaven (42 page)

And she might not have a nice bathroom anymore, but at least it had four sides.

While she was sprinting to it, Kevin emerged from his tent. “Tory, we have some visitors.”

“Yes, I saw. Be back in a jiff.” She waved and hurried off to handle her business.

When she emerged, Kevin was gone, so she headed to her tent to freshen up and use a wet wipe to clear off the dust and grime of the day. They didn’t have visitors often, but at least she could be less sweaty and dirty while they chatted.

Unzipping her tent netting designed to keep air circulating but the bugs out, she stepped inside and immediately turned around to zip it back up.

“Hello, Tory,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

She looked over her shoulder and stumbled back against the tent when she saw Rye standing there.

He was hatless and dressed in tan slacks and a white long–sleeve T–shirt and looked much leaner. His hair still curled at the end, a mix of blond and ash that she’d remembered each and every time she looked out at the savanna. He still had his goatee, and his hazel eyes seemed to drill all the way into her soul.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and a part of her thought for a moment that she had to be crazy, thinking she was seeing him here. With her. After all this time.

Yet he approached her as she stood there, her quickened breaths audible in the quiet of the tent. Speechless, she watched him reach out and touch the hair sticking out of her hat. “It’s longer,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I like it.”

When his fingers brushed her hair, it snapped her to attention. “What are you doing here? How…did you even find me?”

“We contacted Fulbright.” His hands fell to his sides. “I’ve come a long way to talk to you.”

Suddenly it was too much. “Why in the world would you come here? It’s been months, Rye.” Then a thought hit her. “There’s nothing wrong with your family, is there?”

His gaze roamed over her face. “No, everybody’s fine. They send their best. Including Rory.”

She picked at her white cotton skirt. Oh, that sweet little boy. “Then I don’t understand why you’re here. There’s nothing more for us to say to each other. I’ve moved on with my life, and I thought you would have, too.”

“There are things I need to say to you. Things I want to explain. I should have called you about buying the house—”

“Stop right there,” she interrupted, and suddenly the old anger—that he had gone too far, interfered too much—had her seeing red. “ Like some personal Dear John letter? Oh dammit, why couldn’t you just leave me alone?” She’d been so happy, stepping more into the sun each day, and now she was being plunged back into the darkness.

“No, God, I…I needed to see you. To tell you how things have been. How everything has changed. Tory, I’ve missed you like you’re my last breath.”

It felt as though her heart had crashed down against the rocks, miles from shore. “Stop saying things like that. It’s too late. Don’t you understand? I came all this way to get you out of my head, and now you’re here.”

She edged away, but he reached for her shoulder, and that old ping of attraction between them blew through her defenses. This time it was unwelcome, a devastating reminder of everything they’d lost.

“Tory,” he whispered hoarsely. “I love you. Please just calm down and let me talk. I have something I want to show you.”

At one time hearing those words from him would have given her hope, but all they did now was engulf her in familiar pain. “Stop this! You don’t love me. If you did, you never would have believed I’d betray you.”

He hung his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry. I’m ashamed of that. I’ve never asked anyone this directly before, but I’m asking you… Tory, will you forgive me?”

So, this was about his guilt, after all. Studying him, she realized her first impression of how lean he’d become was spot on. He was haggard, and he didn’t radiate star quality quite like he had when she’d worked for him.

Her lip started to quiver. “It’s not so easy as that, Rye. You hurt me. Not once, but twice.”

“I know that, and I’m sorrier than you could ever know. Please forgive me, Tory. So we can begin again. I’m a changed man, and I brought something to show that to you.”

He wanted her back? Her hand flew to her throat, and she pressed her lips together to keep from crying out. Would it even be possible after all the betrayal and hurt he’d put her through?

“Tory, are you all right?” Kevin called, and the sound of her tent unzipping made her look away from Rye.

“If you’d just give us some privacy,” Rye barked.

“I heard raised voices,” Kevin said and walked over to her. “Is everything all right? Do you want him to leave?”

Rye stepped forward in a move designed to intimidate, but Kevin didn’t back down.

“Oh stop it. Both of you,” she said. “I need to think. Rye, I…where are you staying?”

If she had time to think, then she’d be better prepared for the next time they spoke.

“Tory, please don’t send me away,” he said, and cast a cutting glance at Kevin. “Please let me stay and tell you about my family and how things have been with them.”

It was a low blow, and he knew it, using her love for his family to sway her. But she felt like she was emotionally freefalling, and she desperately needed to regain control. Otherwise she was afraid she’d start yelling at him or crying over spilt milk, and she had too much pride for that.

“No, you sprang this on me. Coming here out of nowhere. I need some time to process all this.”

His sigh was long suffering, and he put his hands on his hips, looking defeated. “All right. I’ll give you your time. I’m staying at The Queen’s Lodge. Do you know it?”

Of course. It was the most luxurious safari park around, frequented by celebrities. “Yes, I do. I’ll…find you. When I’m ready to talk.”

Rye inclined his head to Kevin. “Can you give me a moment here?”

Her friend looked over at her for guidance. “It’s okay, Kevin.”

When he left the tent, Rye took a deep breath and gazed at her with such intensity, she could feel all the tears she’d suppressed rising up in her chest.

“I do love you, and I’ve changed. Like I said, I brought proof…or at least as close to proof as I can get.” He crossed the space and picked up a manila envelope from her small sitting table. “This is for you. I hope it will help you see…”

She took it when he pressed it into her hands, and then he covered her hands with his. “I do love you, and I’m willing to do anything you want to show you just how much.”

A huge pocket of emotion flew out of her with as she exhaled sharply.

He crossed to the tent flap. “Will you promise me you’ll come talk to me when you’ve done your thinking?”

Since she couldn’t squeeze a word out, she nodded sharply.

His mouth tipped up to the side. “Okay, then I’ll see you soon.”

When he left, she succumbed to the storm inside her. The pain was fierce, the tears hot. Her head and nose grew stuffy, and she had trouble catching her breath when she curled onto her cot.

Did he really love her? Why would he wait to tell her until now? It was insane. And then another thought surfaced, something she hadn’t remembered until now. He was terrified of flying, and yet he’d faced that fear for her.

She reached for the package, and the first thing she pulled out was a CD. On the cover, Rye sat hatless under a tree with two kids playing in the background near a tree swing. Her heart stopped, and she knew the kids were Rory and Annabelle, dressed in matching outfits of crisp white and powder blue. Above his name was the album’s title,
Country Heaven.
Since Myra had been a long time fan of Rye’s, Tory had seen plenty of his other album covers. They all showcased his spectacular body in motion, solidifying his reputation as a bad–boy country singer.

But not this time…

Then she pulled a blue card with a garden scene on the front with the words,
Thinking of You.
It looked like something Tammy might have bought. Inside were two pieces of construction paper with a child’s big, awkward red letters.

Dear Tory,
I miss you. I hope you’re having fun. Listen to Uncle Rye and his songs. He loves you like me. I didn’t talk to him until he said it. Come home soon and see my puppy, Bandit. He bought him for me.
Love, Rory

So her little champion thought Rye loved her? He was no pushover. Tears leaked out of her swollen eyes, and she knuckled them away.

Her gaze fell to the CD again.
This
was the man she’d met in Meade.

She tore off the cellophane and popped the disc into the mini–player that was in the bottom of the envelope. Her heart pumping in vicious beats, she hit play.

The first track shared the name of the album, and when she heard the opening chords of a guitar and his quiet voice, she shivered, realizing it was the song he’d sung for her in Memphis. Bracing herself to hear the words that had broken her heart, she was shocked when the lyrics were different.

But I missed her so,
Couldn’t let her go.
So, I got on my knees,
Started a prayer with please,
And asked God to send my angel back to me.
Told Him I’d make her a home,
And love her all my days,
Down here,
In country heaven.

She pressed a hand over her mouth as she started to cry again. “Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted, rocking herself. So it was true. He loved her. He really did.

Pulling the lyrics sheet from the cover, she scanned the Acknowledgements, where he thanked his Daddy, Amelia Ann, Tammy, Rory, and Annabelle for coming back into his life. And the last line on the page was To T.S., with love. Always.

For a moment, it felt like lightning had struck her heart.

She read the lyrics for the rest of the songs as if her life depended on it. They were all about his broken heart, sitting a spell with his favorite little girl in the evening, and the power of forgiveness. Her finger caressed the album cover as she listened. She noticed his cowboy hat resting to the side in the picture. Rye Crenshaw without his hat? Surely it meant something. He was telling her—telling the world—that he was setting aside his old image, wasn’t he?

And she’d sent him away.

What in the heck did she need to think about? Everything was exactly as she’d always hoped it would be.

Panicked, she picked up her keys and ran to her Rover. Kevin emerged when she started the engine.

“He loves me!” she shouted. “I’m going after him.”

“Good luck,” he said with a smile, but his shoulders fell as she drove away.

She had only been to The Queen’s Lodge once, for a special lunch, and while it was grandiose, she barely paid it any mind as she crossed the lobby to the main desk.

“Can you tell me what room Rye Crenshaw is staying in?” she asked the receptionist.

“I’m sorry, miss, but we’re not able to divulge the name of our guests,” he replied.

“Then can you call him, please, and tell him that…” She broke off when she saw Clayton and another man walking out of a nearby room. She cried out his name, rushing toward them.

His mouth curled at the corner, while his friend regarded her warily.

“I’m here to see Rye,” she said in a rush. “Can you take me to him?”

“Are you planning on breaking his heart anymore than you’ve already done?” Clayton asked.

“No,” she said quietly. She’d broken his heart?

“Well, good,” he replied.

“I’m John Parker McGuiness, by the way, another friend of Rye’s,” said the man next to him. “It’s good to finally meet you, Tory. Why don’t you come with us? We’ll take you to Rye.”

“Thank you,” she said. Suddenly she was nervous.

“I’m really glad to see you here,” John Parker said. “Rye’s terrible at waiting.”

The first makings of a smile formed on her face, and it felt good. “I know.”

“Seems I owe you an apology,” Clayton said. “Georgia raised me to speak plainly, and it sometimes comes off too gruff. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Her mouth parted slightly in shock. “Thank you,” she simply responded.

They followed the path to the pool and then curled around it, heading to the largest bungalow on the property. When they reached the door, J.P. squeezed her arm. “Just wait here for a moment.”

The wait was interminable, and she tapped her foot, all the things she wanted to say to Rye spinning through her mind in an endless loop.

When the door opened again, J.P. and Clayton emerged with another very tall man, who looked her up and down and whistled. “Lady, for being so little, you sure know how to cause a whole heap of trouble,” the stranger said. “But I’m glad you’re in love with my friend because I’m a hopeless romantic now that I’ve gotten hitched myself. But go easy with him. He wasn’t sure he’d convinced you about his feelings, so he went a little crazy.”

“It’ll be fine,” J.P. said. “Just tell Rye how you feel.”

And with that, they left her alone at the mahogany door. She only needed to open it.

Every good cook has a signature dish. Even though I’m not of Italian heritage, one of my signature dishes is lasagna. The wonderful thing about cooking is that you can go anywhere in the world simply by cooking in your own kitchen. Since we didn’t have any money to travel to mysterious places when I was a kid, I started cooking recipes from countries I wanted to visit. When I was first introduced to Italian cuisine, I felt that I’d found my second home. Their approach to food—simple, family style with fresh local ingredients—seemed to blend with my own vision of what makes a good meal. Serve it to your family with a good red wine. Light some candles. And celebrate togetherness.

Tory’s Mouthwatering Lasagna
2 packages sausage
1 lb. hamburger
6 cloves garlic
2 tbsp. Italian seasoning
1 can tomato paste
1 small can crushed tomatoes
1 carton of cottage cheese or ricotta
2 beaten eggs
1 tbsp. Parsley
¾ cup Parmesan cheese
Mozzarella cheese