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Authors: Sheila Walsh

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BOOK: Song of the Brokenhearted
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Ava flipped the power button off and set the bag of leaves behind Jason's seat.

She remembered her grandmother saying she'd never grow anything. The little houseplant she'd been given as a prize at school died within the first month she'd had it. Grannie would also regurgitate the story of how Ava forgot her Barbie doll outside in the fort she'd constructed with Clancy. The dog chewed off one leg. Grannie whipped her good for that one, Ava clutching the one-legged Barbie. She'd cried even longer when Grannie confiscated the Barbie after the spanking and gave it back to the dog.

“Maybe that'll teach you. I just hope you never have children. They probably won't survive you being their mama, just like you can't grow anything.”

Neither Ava nor Jason spoke the rest of the drive home. Ava went through Sonic and bought Jason a chocolate milkshake, but she'd lost her appetite for one. As soon as she pulled up to the house waiting for the garage door to rise, Jason opened his car door.

“You know, I would've appreciated you being a part of this today. That tree is special to me, and you made it harder than it already was. You're acting like I did something wrong and you're punishing me. I haven't done anything, Jason. So knock it off.”

“I'm not . . . punishing
you
,” he muttered.

“Are you ever going to acknowledge that what you did was wrong?”

“What—today or the other thing?” he muttered.

“I guess both.”

“Of course,” he said, his voice cracking. “I just want to go up to my room. Can I?”

“We need to talk about this.”

“Can we later? I just want to go to my room.” He clenched his jaw, but to Ava, he appeared boyishly meek and small.

Ava wished she could crack his closed expression or force him to open up.

“I guess,” she muttered, and off he went.

Fourteen

A
VA LEANED IN TOWARD HER VANITY MIRROR, TOUCHING HER
finger along the slight lines below her eye. They appeared more pronounced lately, accentuated by the faint bluish shade that always gave away restless sleep.

She stared at the face in the mirror. Ava had always thought her cheekbones were too pronounced for the roundness of her face, and her grandmother said she looked like a doe with her large eyes and narrow face.

It surprised her when men started treating her differently in her early teens. Daddy and her grandmother wouldn't let her wear makeup or jeans; it was dresses only. Daddy went to prison and she decided to do what she wanted. Then she spent every tip she earned waitressing after school at the diner on jeans, makeup, and trips to the small beauty shop in town. Grandmother said she was a vain tramp and that men only liked her because she dressed like a harlot.

In California Aunt Jenny told her she was beautiful with or without makeup. She showed her how to use blush to accen tuate her cheekbones and eye shadow to bring out her eyes. Ava lived in San Francisco for five years, going to college, working at Nordstrom, and discovering a world beyond Texas. Aunt Jenny said she transformed into a lady during those years. Grannie wrote her letters about her backsliding ways. Clancy had joined the military, Daddy was sitting in prison, and Mama was in the grave. They were a family that would never exist again.

Even now after so many years of luxury, Ava could see her face transform into a wild child with matted hair or the teenager putting on too much blue eye shadow.

Ava pulled her hair into a short ponytail and slipped into her designer sweats and jacket. There was a slight chip in one of her nails, and she had just enough time to get it fixed before picking up Dane's tux from the cleaners.

She touched the silver Vera Wang dress that Kayanne insisted she buy for tonight's charity event, exclaiming that if she had curves like Ava, her search for a man would be over. The dress did hug her hips, which twenty years earlier might have been nice to display except that curves weren't popular then. Now that they were, Ava felt too old to be wearing a form-fitting gown. She'd pulled a less flashy black dress as a backup and hung it up beside the silver—she'd decide tonight which to wear.

Ava rushed down the stairs, enjoying the fresh scent. Martina had been in today. Ava loved Martina days, when the house was even cleaner than usual, dinner was popped into the oven, and the laundry was actually put in everyone's drawers instead of folded on the laundry room table.

Ava grabbed her keys, chiding herself for spending too much time thinking and not getting going. What did reflection accomplish anyway?

The sound of the garage door stopped her. She walked toward the garage, but the door opened before she reached it.

Dane jumped when he saw her.

“What are you doing here? This is a surprise,” she said. He'd left for the office early, promising to be home in time for the ball.

“Yes, it is a surprise.” Dane's voice sounded weary.

“What's going on?” She kissed his cheek, noticing how his deep lines and dark circles were much more pronounced than her own.

He took in the bag on her shoulder and keys in hand. “You're on your way out. When will you be home?”

“Few hours. Just errands—nails and dry cleaners.”

“We'll talk when you get back.”

“You remember it's the Charity Ball.”

He chuckled and muttered, “Of course it is.”

“What does that mean?”

“I'm sorry. Nothing. We'll talk after the Charity Ball then.”

Warning flags waved in her head.

“Is it about us?” she asked, following Dane as he walked down the hall and turned into the den.

“It's about us,” Dane said solemnly, dropping his messenger bag on the desk. He looked up then, seeing her face, and his expression changed. “No, not about us, as in our relationship. Nothing like that. I need to make some calls, but don't worry. It'll be all right.”

Don't worry. Everything is going to be all right
. How often she'd heard her father say that, all through his trial, and even into the first years of his conviction. And Dane often assured her with such words—he'd been saying them for years—but in his case, everything
had
turned out all right.

“Is it the company?”

Dane nodded. “Always the company. There will be some allegations against it. They aren't true, but in this day and age, you have to prove your innocence. We're being investigated. The company is on the verge of crumbling, and out of nowhere, we're being investigated for securities fraud.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's going to affect us. We need to talk about it.”

“So . . . what does this mean?” Ava realized this wasn't being processed in her brain at all. It felt like she was talking about someone else.

“It will take a few days or weeks to know for sure.” Dane cleared his throat and sighed. He sat down in his favorite leather recliner in the corner of the room, closing his eyes. Dane didn't rest when things went wrong, he fought back. This sight sent flutters of fear through her.

“I don't want you to be late for your nail appointment,” Dane said with his eyes closed, then he opened them. “But don't use the American Express card when you pay.”

“Okay,” she said, standing in the doorway wondering if she should really leave.

“I just need a little sleep.”

“Of course,” she said, gathering a blanket that was draped over the leather couch on the opposite wall.

She closed the door behind her, but Ava set down her purse and sent a text to her manicurist, canceling her appointment. She fixed herself a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table.

Words assaulted her from a voice much like her grandmother's.
You've been acting all high and mighty. Now you face the very hard fall
. In the first years after the old woman's death, Ava was haunted by them. Grannie saw the devil in nearly any misfortune since he was always trying to destroy them. She'd often exclaim that the world was getting so bad, Jesus was going to return soon.

As she fixed an early lunch for Dane, she told herself that everything was going to be fine. She prayed it as well. God had taken care of her through much worse than a financial glitch. Dane emerged from the den, rubbing his eyes.

“I forgot to ask if you talked to Sienna this morning?”

“No, why?” she asked as she sliced homemade bread for his sandwich.

“Did you know she and Preston were having so many problems?”

“What do you mean?”

Their daughter often called her father when debating a big decision, then Ava would be the second call. She didn't mind, even loved the idea of her daughter having a strong male force in her life. What would that have been like to have a father to talk to, especially as a young woman?

Dane studied her face. “So you don't know? Sienna called off the wedding.”

Fifteen

Y
OUR TIMING IS IMPECCABLE
, A
VA NEARLY MUTTERED AS
D
ANE
drove them into downtown Dallas for the Children's Charity Ball. The high-rise buildings shimmered with light and glass brighter than she remembered.

They'd driven in silence with Ava trying to find a viable excuse to not attend the event. Her hands clenched together to keep them from shaking and to keep herself from bursting into tears before they arrived. Her phone sat on her lap in anticipation of Sienna's return call. Ava's calls went unanswered, but Sienna had sent a text saying she was talking with Preston and would call them when she could. Ava prayed their talk would turn this around. What was her daughter thinking?

“How bad is all of this? I really want to know the truth,” Ava said, turning toward Dane. The dashboard lights illuminated Dane's strong chin and neckline. She hadn't realized how attractive he looked tonight.

“Sienna hasn't been sure about this marriage for a long time. I liked the guy a lot, but I'm not marrying him.”

“I was asking about your company.”

Dane pulled in front of the Hyatt Regency. “The company. That's better discussed later.”

The valet trotted up to the car, waiting for them to emerge.

“I think I want to know now.”

He took her hand, studying her face a moment. “It's pretty bad.”

She stared into his dark eyes, wondering what he was thinking. Dane released her hand and rose from the car. He gave the keys to the valet and walked around the car, then opened her door and reached again for her hand. Ava felt the strength in his fingers as he gently led her out.

“Let's enjoy tonight and talk later at home.”

Ava squeezed his hand, making him stop as the antique light posts along the entrance blurred momentarily. “Tell me now.”

He spoke, and Ava only heard bits and pieces. “Investigation. Freezing assets. Investors pulling out, allegations of . . .”

His words turned to gum in her head. Ava had never understood the financial world. Dane explained it off and on, but he could see her eyes glaze over. He said something about failed mergers and insider trading, but she couldn't get off of the thought,
What are we going to do?

As more arrivals came up behind them, Ava became aware that they were standing outside in what must have appeared a very intense conversation. “All your investments are gone?”

“Personal investments have been for a while now, but the company investments—I'm hoping we'll salvage the company and the market will come back, or . . .”

“Or what?” she asked as Dane led her toward the entrance of the hotel.

“Or the company goes under and I look for a job, though probably not in Dallas.”

Ava stopped again. “We'd move from Dallas?”

“That or I'd commute. The east and west coasts have always been better for my line of work, you know that.”

They stepped inside the luxurious entrance. The sound of people talking and laughing in the crowded ballrooms reminded Ava of crows squawking from a telephone wire.

Let me just paste on my smile and pretend our life isn't imploding around me
.

“We can't bid on anything,” Dane said with such a deeply apologetic look that her heart ached for him.

“Oh, of course. I expected that.” Ava reached out her hand and touched his face, trying to reassure him. She had been making this about herself, not considering how painful and humiliating it must be for her husband.

Dane had three rules in life: be a man of integrity, provide well for his family, and build close ties with his wife and children. Ava had told him that something about God should be first on that list, but he said God was a given, not a mission statement. Now that he'd been praying for the company, Ava wondered if his faith was shaken by the outcome.

Before familiar faces surrounded them, Ava tugged on his hand and led him away from the hall where the main ballroom was located.

BOOK: Song of the Brokenhearted
12.64Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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