You, Me and a Palm Tree Read online

  She pulls me to her, and then I remember. “CeCe, I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “It’s okay. The doctor said two weeks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She nods, and we blank out everything else except our love for each other, and the rightness of the way our bodies fit together. I want her more than I have ever wanted her. We make love to each other. And it is exactly that. Both of us, hearts broken, wanting to make the other whole again.

  ♪

  CeCe

  I’M STILL LYING in bed, warm from Holden’s touch, when his phone rings. He’s in the shower, so I glance at the screen and see that it’s Thomas. I answer with, “Hey, stranger.”

  “Hey, honey. How are you?”

  I hear the very real concern in his voice and wonder what Holden has told him. I brighten my answer because there’s no need for him to be worrying about me. “Getting better,” I say.

  “We miss you. Lila wants to fix dinner for you as soon as you feel like coming over.”

  “I’d like that. Everybody good there?”

  “Yeah,” he says, gratitude in his voice. “Really good. Holden told me what you’re doing for Charlotte’s father.”

  “You think I’m crazy?”

  “No.”

  “I just needed to change the focus somehow.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  “Enough about me. What’s up?”

  “Well, right before Holden left this morning, I got a call from Jacob Bartley.”

  Holden walks into the room just then, a towel around his waist, his hair wet. “It’s Thomas,” I say, putting him on the speakerphone.

  “Hey,” Holden says. “You missing me already?”

  Thomas snorts a laugh. “I was missing CeCe.”

  “So what did Jacob Bartley want?” I ask.

  “He’d like to meet with us tomorrow at his studio.”

  “Why?” Holden asks, sitting down beside me on the bed and taking my hand.

  “He didn’t want to say over the phone. Said he’d like to have the chance to present it to us in person.”

  “Interesting,” Holden says.

  “I know the timing’s not great,” Thomas says. “If you want, I can ask him if we can meet down the road.”

  Holden looks at me, and I know I’m the one to make the decision. I don’t want to disappoint either one of them or keep them from a good opportunity, so I say, “Tomorrow is fine. What time?”

  ♪

  Holden

  WE’RE ON THE way to Bartley’s studio the next morning, when I finally ask CeCe what I’ve been wanting to ask her. “You’re doing this for Thomas and me, aren’t you?”

  She glances out the window, her voice neutral when she says, “I want to be honest with you about how I’m feeling. The only way I can explain it is numb. It seems like the best thing to do is go ahead with life the way we normally live it. And maybe at some point, it will start to feel right again.”

  I reach across and take her hand, linking my fingers with hers. “Just keep telling me how you’re feeling. Don’t shut me out. Promise me you won’t?”

  “I won’t,” she says, meeting my gaze with a half-smile.

  She turns the radio on. The Highway on XM is playing “Amazed,” CeCe’s voice suddenly filling the car, pure and beautiful. Without hesitating, she changes the station.

  ♪

  BARTLEY’S STUDIO IS in the heart of Music Row. It’s one of the largest and most visible. The building, one story and square, is painted a bright red. The shutters are yellow, and an enormous sculpture of a cowboy hat sits prominently in the front yard.

  It seems a bit showy to me, but I suppose if you’ve reached his level of success in Nashville, you can do what you want with your studio.

  We park in the side lot. Thomas pulls in behind us in a new black Ford truck. He gets out first, opening CeCe’s door for her.

  “Come here, beautiful,” he says, lifting her up so that her feet aren’t touching the pavement.

  He holds her like that for several long moments. If anyone understands the bond between them, it’s me. I’m grateful for how much he cares.

  When he finally lowers her to the ground, his eyes are moist, and he wipes the back of his hand across them. “I can’t stand what’s happened to you two.”

  “I know,” CeCe says, putting a hand on his arm. “We’re getting there.”

  “If you don’t want to be here today, CeCe,” he says, “we can cancel this.”

  “I want to be. I need the distraction.”

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  The main door to the studio opens then, and Jacob Bartley appears in the doorway. He’s under six feet, but buff as all get-out, and has the kind of commanding presence that tells people he’s somebody, whether they already know it or not. He’s wearing his signature cowboy hat and boots. I notice that his gaze settles first on CeCe, lingers a bit longer than seems proprietary before his face splits in a smile, and he strides toward us.

  “Glad y’all could make it,” he throws out in a deep country voice. He shakes my hand first, dead-on eye contact, killer grip, as if he knows I caught him staring at CeCe and he wants to assure me he’s not after my girl. I’m not sure I’m convinced though.

  Thomas shakes his hand. “Thanks for the invite, man.”

  “Absolutely,” Jacob says, turning his gaze to CeCe then. He offers his hand, and she shakes it. I’m watching, and I swear, he’s got a major crush on my wife.

  “Y’all come in,” Jacob says, waving us toward the door. We follow him inside. A pretty young receptionist in a short skirt and boots greets us at the front desk. Jacob tells her not to send him any calls until he gets back with her. She says of course and smiles a perfect white smile.

  At the end of a long hallway, Bartley takes a right into a giant office with a big walnut desk and eight or ten Restoration Hardware-type leather chairs. The walls are lined with accolades for his music, and I have to admit the guy has earned his fame in Nashville.

  “Y’all have a seat,” he says. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I’m good,” Thomas and I say at the same time.

  “Bottle of water?” CeCe asks.

  “Sure thing,” he says, walking over to a stainless refrigerator with a glass door through which small bottles of Pellegrino are visible. He pulls one out and hands it to her with a napkin.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  “You’re welcome,” he answers without directly meeting her gaze.

  He takes a leather chair across from us, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees.

  “What can we do for you, Jacob?” I ask then, not so sure about our decision to come here today.

  “Well, I won’t hold you up any longer than necessary, so I’ll just get to the point. I work with an organization that supports an orphanage in Belize down in Central America. They do really great stuff there. I’ve been twice and spent time with the kids, watched with my own eyes what is done for them with the funding and gifts they receive. I’m getting ready to do a pretty big fundraiser here in town. Reba was headlining it with me, but something major came up and she can’t. I was hoping y’all would be interested in taking her place.”

  “Whoa,” Thomas says, sitting back in his chair. “That’s quite an honor.”

  “Yes,” CeCe agrees. “Thank you for asking us, Jacob.”

  “You’d be a real asset to the show,” he says. “I know you’d bring in your share of the crowd.”

  “What’s the date?” I ask.

  “It’s two weeks from tomorrow. That’s the catch. It’s awfully last minute.”

  “Can you tell us a little more about the orphanage?” CeCe asks.

  “Sure,” he says, his voice warming to the question. “It provides care and rehab for abused children. Physical and sexual abuse. Most of them have been abandoned. They usually have about thirty children at a time, anywhere from infants to teens.”

>   “How did you become involved?” I ask.

  “I was looking around for something I could get involved in. I was adopted, and I guess it’s something I have a passion for. This particular organization does amazing work, and I wanted to help bring attention to it.”

  “Wow,” CeCe says. “That’s wonderful. I would love to help.”

  She looks at me, and I don’t manage to hide my surprise. I didn’t expect her to want to perform any time soon.

  “Holden? Thomas? What do you think?” she asks.

  “I’m in,” Thomas says.

  “Yeah. Sounds awesome,” I say.

  “Fantastic,” Jacob says. “If you have time, I’d love to show you a video of the orphanage I took the last time I was there.”

  “We would love to see it,” CeCe says.

  Jacob does a really bad job of hiding how thrilled he is by her response. I feel like I’m watching the beginning of something I need to jump out in front of, stop before it has a chance to get started. But that’s crazy. I know CeCe better than anyone in the world. The one thing I know I don’t have to question is her commitment to me. I have no idea how I ever got lucky enough to have it, but it’s real.

  I reach across the space between us and take her hand in mine. “We would love to be a part of it, Jacob.”

  ♪

  CeCe

  “YOU DON’T LIKE him, do you?”

  We’re driving home a little while later when I ask Holden the question.

  He glances at me, his expression neutral. “I don’t really know him.”

  “No, but he seems like a guy with good intentions.”

  “Does he?”

  I hear the doubt in his voice and wonder where it’s coming from. “Do you know something about him that I don’t?”

  “Just a vibe I got.”

  “What kind of vibe?”

  “That he was into you.”

  “Holden,” I say. “Do you really think it would matter even if he was?”

  “No,” he says, his tone honest.

  “Then why would you let it bother you?”

  “Maybe I’m not as confident as I come across.”

  “You should be, where I’m concerned.”

  He looks at me then, apology in his eyes. “I know. I’m just being a jerk.”

  “At least you admit it.”

  “I get brownie points for that?”

  “Depends on what’s involved with the brownie points.”

  “I’m a simple guy,” he says, giving me the small grin that always makes my heartbeat pick up.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say.

  “Hey,” he says, putting his hand on my leg. “I’m sorry. I really was being a jerk.”

  “You don’t need to doubt me, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “All right then.”

  “All right then.”

  ♪

  WE GO BY the hospital to see Mr. Gearly.

  He looks surprised when we walk into the room, as if each time we leave, he doesn’t expect us to come back.

  “How are you doing?” I ask, standing at the edge of the bed, Holden just behind me.

  “They tell me I’m doing better,” he says. “I think I actually believe them.”

  I’m surprised to hear this, but I see something in his eyes I haven’t seen before now. Hope.

  “That’s wonderful, Mr. Gearly,” I say, feeling a gratitude I did not expect to feel.

  He’s silent, but there’s struggle in his expression, and he finally says, “I’ve thought a lot about what you said. That wrong can’t be overcome with more wrong. I don’t know why you two felt the need to help me, but I want to thank you for doing so. I don’t deserve it. I’ve made so many mistakes with my life, but I’ve got another chance now. I don’t want to squander that. I’d like to lose the weight I need to lose to get out of this bed and justify what you’ve done for me.”

  It’s only when he’s done that I realize tears are running down my face. I wipe them away with the back of my hand. “That’s pretty much all any of us can do, Mr. Gearly. Try to give back for what we’ve been given. Where will you go from here?”

  “Dr. Adams recommended me to a surgeon he knows who specializes in weight-loss surgery. He thinks I’m a good candidate, and if I can lose fifty pounds on my own, he’s willing to do the surgery.”

  “That’s amazing,” I say.

  “It is,” he agrees. “What’s more amazing is that I think I can do it.”

  “I’m sure you can,” I say.

  Holden steps in beside me and says, “That’s really great, Mr. Gearly.”

  “Wish I’d found the courage to do it a long time ago,” he admits. “Maybe if I had, Charlotte could have had a chance to get help.”

  I don’t know whether he is right or not, so I stay silent while the three of us absorb the implication. “There’s no way to know,” I say. “All we can do is go on from here.”

  “I guess that’s what we have an obligation to do,” he says. “Anyway, I don’t want you to be concerned about me any longer. I practically made my daughter a hostage in her own life because of the obligation she felt to me. I never want to do that to anyone again.”

  “It’s not like that, Mr. Gearly.”

  “Even so, I’ve been a burden long enough. It’s time I stand on my own two feet. Thank you for what you did. For getting me here and opening my eyes.”

  I can see that he is determined to live up to his words. And that it’s time for me to say good-bye. “You’re going to be fine,” I say. And I know somehow that I am right.

  “If you need anything, Mr. Gearly,” Holden begins—

  But he stops him with, “I know you mean that, and that still amazes me. But you two have lives to get back to. And that’s what you need to do. I’ll look forward to reading about your successes.”

  I touch his enormous shoulder and say, “You’ll do great.”

  “Thank you, CeCe. For everything.”

  Holden takes my hand; we say a final good-bye and leave the room.

  ♪

  MAMA IS COOKING when we get home. The wonderful smell of biscuits baking in the oven greets us at the door. Hank Junior and Patsy trot into the foyer, tails wagging hard at the sight of us.

  Holden gives them each a rub, looking at me and saying, “I love your mom’s cooking. Can she stay forever?”

  “I’d be happy about it,” I say, walking toward the kitchen. “We’re home, Mama.”

  She smiles at the sight of us, smudges of flour on the green apron she’s wearing. “Hey, you two. Hope you don’t mind that I started dinner.”

  “Mind?” Holden says, walking over to kiss her on the cheek. “We don’t want you to ever leave.”

  “Aww,” she says. “You’d get tired of me eventually.”

  “No, we wouldn’t,” I say, putting my arms around her and hugging her tight. Somehow, I need one of her hugs right now.

  She presses her hand to the back of my hair, saying, “Everything all right, sweetie?”

  “Yeah. We just stopped to see Mr. Gearly. I think he’s going to be okay.”

  “You’ve both been wonderful to him.”

  I shrug.

  “You have,” she insists.

  “Maybe it’s helping us get some closure,” I say.

  She wraps me a little tighter in her arms, kissing my hair. “Speaking of staying forever, I’m sure you’re both ready to have your life back.”

  I pull back a little to look in her eyes. “Does that mean you want to go back to Virginia?”

  “No. Actually, I wanted to get your opinion on something,” she says, stepping back to look at us both with a suddenly serious expression.

  “What?” I ask, instantly worried.

  “Well, Case has asked me to marry him.”

  “What?” I can’t hide my surprise.

  Mama smiles then, and I can see how happy she is to tell us. “Oh, Mama, that’s wonderful.”

 
“It is, Mira,” Holden agrees. “Really.”

  “Y’all don’t think I would be foolish to hope I could keep a man like Case?”

  I hear her doubts then, and even though I understand the source of them, I know how lucky Case is to have her.

  “Mira,” Holden says. “You’re the best thing to happen to Case in a long time. I think he knows that.”

  “I just don’t want to look like some aging desperado—”

  “Mama,” I admonish. “You are a beautiful woman. The woman Case Phillips fell in love with. He’s been walking around with a broken heart for a long time. You two are meant to be together.”

  “You really think so?” she asks, clearly wanting to believe me.

  “I do.”

  “I love him,” she says.

  “I know. I’m glad you’re finally admitting it.”

  “So have you set a date?” Holden asks.

  She shakes her head. “Case wants to get married right away. On the farm.”

  “And?”

  “It seems too soon,” she says. “After everything that’s happened—”

  I glance at Holden. He gives me a small nod. “Mama, we don’t want you to wait because of us. I don’t think we should put off living. We never know how that’s going to go.”

  A flash of pain crosses Mama’s face. “It seems wrong to be joyful when you’ve both lost so much.”

  “It’s not,” I say. “We live. That’s our only choice.”

  Mama steps forward and pulls me into her arms again. “Will you help me get the wedding together?”

  “Of course, I will. Is Aunt Vera coming?”

  “I know she would love to.”

  “She’ll stay here,” I say. “We need something to celebrate.”

  “Thank you, honey. So much.”

  “I’m happy for you, Mama.”

  “Me too,” Holden says. “Case is a lucky man. But then so am I.”

  ♪