Her father hefted the suitcase from the trunk of the car. The rest of her stuff, which consisted of some of her other clothes, her favorite guitars, a banjo she’d taught herself how to play, and all of her awards, were in the van she rented for Gabe to drive to the ranch on his way home in Bluebonnet Creek in Brown County. The trip was out of his way, but he’d refused to accept any payment and seemed more than happy to take on the burden.
“Gabe is trying to convince me to go in with him and form our own record label.” Her father closed her trunk.
“Are you thinking about it?”
As they headed up the walkway to the porch, he said, “I am, but there’s a lot at stake. We’ll have to put a lot of capital into the venture I’m not sure either of us have.”
“I think it’s a great opportunity. Look what Show Dog Records has done for Toby’s career.”
“I know there’s money to be made. Thing is I’d hate to leave Midland Records. I’ve been there since they first signed me twenty-two years ago. Paul Calabrese has been good to me and signed a lot of the acts I’ve brought to him. Like you and Gabe,” he said, referring to the president of Midland and another close friend. Paul’s friendship with her father was what probably saved her ass from being dropped like poop from a flock of pigeons when Trish asked for an indefinite extension on her production deadline for her current record.
He opened the screen door into the kitchen. “I also know where Gabe’s coming from. We’re both getting old.”
She moved into the kitchen and shook her head. “You’re still making number one records. Gabe is too.”
“True. But there will come a time when we’ll stop selling out stadiums and stop racing up the charts. There’s a lot of young, hot talent out there.” Grinning, he looked over his shoulder at her as they headed down the hall to the stairs. “I know what it’s like to be upstaged by my opening act. I don’t want that to happen again.”
She laughed because she’d been that opening act. “What can I say? Sorry I stole your fans.”
At the painful thought that none of those fans were hers anymore, she lost the smile. People still wanted her autograph, and she couldn’t go anywhere without someone noticing her and making a fuss, but most of her earlier supporters had deserted her. The groupies and media following her now simply wanted a piece of her because she was famous.
Swallowing, she turned to him at the open door of her old bedroom. “Dad, I think you’d make a wonderful music executive. You have a great ear for talent and you care about what people want to hear.”
He set her case inside her room, then drew her into his arms and kissed her forehead. “I love you, sunshine.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.” She had to swallow the lump forming in her throat as the tears she’d been holding in came rushing back.
Her mother finished fluffing her pillows and moved in beside them. She took Emily into her arms after Dad stepped away, hugging her close and hoarsely whispering in her ear, “I’m happy you came home. I love you and I’m proud of you.”
“I love you.” She clung to her mother. The torrent of tears was too much, and they gushed from her hot and utterly liberating. Why had she held them back?
Her father wrapped his arms around both her and Momma and held them as she cried until there was nothing left. Emily slowly moved away from them and had never felt freer.
She was home.
Now, she could truly heal.
Chapter 4
After showering in her en suite bathroom, Emily dressed in a pair of jean shorts she couldn’t button anymore and a baggy sleeveless shirt. As she looked at herself in the full-length mirror on her closet door, she tied a knot in the bottom of the shirt, hoping to make the thing look less sack-like, without giving away her belly’s distinctive curve. She fussed with the slack in the material until she was satisfied with the result.
Hiding the pregnancy was getting harder and harder, but she wasn’t ready to go public. What if she couldn’t take the criticisms she knew would be waiting for her when the world learned her secret? Although she probably deserved the ugliness sure to follow her reveal, she didn’t need more people telling her she was a fucking idiot. She was good at that all by herself.
Giving up the battle with her flyaway short hair, she set her brush on dresser and stuck her tongue out at her still groggy reflection, then headed out to face the world--and to find something to eat. Her last meal had been a fast food burger and a chocolate milkshake she’d bought in a truck stop outside Oklahoma City.
She opened the door of her bedroom and stopped dead. Her baby brother sat on the carpeted floor of the hallway. His legs crossed as he pretended to be flying a plane, which at closer inspection proved to be an X-wing fighter from Star Wars, and held a toy lightsaber in his right hand. He looked up with large hazel eyes, dropped the fighter, and scrambled to his feet. “Sissy! Momma said you came home, but I didn’t beweeve her.”
He had the same trouble with Ls she’d had as a little kid. She still remembered telling people her name was “Emiwee.” With a smile, she knelt down before the four-year-old. “Now, has Momma ever lied to you?”
He shook a curly head of four-alarm fire red hair and a big smile spread across a face scattered with freckles. She’d seen pictures of her dad when he was little and Johnny looked so much like him it was downright scary. It was as if he’d been cloned and none of her mother’s genetics had been consulted. But then, Emily didn’t have much of their mother in her either. She was a dead ringer for her long dead great-grandmother. In fact, the resemblance to the woman had clued her grandfather, John Kendall, in that she was Seth’s daughter and didn’t belong to Mike Ritter when she was a little girl.
Then you’re lucky.
She understood why her mother lied concerning her paternity. After Mike Ritter’s trial, she discovered the depth of his depravity and of his manipulation of Momma and Seth. However, at the end of the day, she regretted missing out a whole childhood with her real father.
Glad her baby brother would never have his world turned upside down as she had, she reached over and ruffled Johnny’s hair. “How long have you been waiting out here in the hall?”
He shrugged his small shoulders and studied his green lightsaber. “I dunno. Since I got home.”
She glanced at her phone, then slid it into her back pocket. It was now five o’clock. She’d been asleep for over six hours. Pre-school couldn’t be more than two or three hours long. Had he been sitting here waiting for her to wake up for hours? The implication humbled her and terrified her. Her father had mentioned Johnny idolized her, but she didn’t want the devotion. She didn’t deserve it.
He held up the extended plastic collapsible sword. “I’m a Jedi Knight.”
“I see. You like Star Wars?”
His nod sent his curls bouncing. “Yep. I saw aw the movies.” He scrunched up his face into a scowl and brandished the lightsaber in a wide arc, as he made a swishing sound between his teeth. “I reawy don’t wike the Sith.”
What would her little brother do if she told him she’d dated one of the actors from the new movies a few years ago? She laughed and stood. “Me either. I’ve seen all the movies, too.” Her stomach took that moment to let out a loud growl.
His eyes widened again and he pointed to her midsection with the toy sword. “You have a wion in there!”
Chuckling, she curled her hands into claws and growled. “An alien lion. She’s hungry and likes to eat