You, Me and a Palm Tree Read online

  “We don’t have to see him again,” I say.

  Quiet hangs between us, and then Thomas says, “What about that announcement he made about CeCe being ambassador for the orphanage in Belize?”

  “Maybe we can issue a press release saying I’ve decided not to accept for personal reasons,” CeCe says.

  “My guess is he’s going to drag us through the mud if you do.”

  “So? He can’t do this,” CeCe says. “It’s gone too far.”

  “Based on what we’ve seen, I’m thinking you’ll be right, Holden,” Thomas says.

  “We’ll recover. Anyone who knows us will realize I wouldn’t back out lightly.”

  “He’s got a pretty powerful PR machine,” Thomas says.

  CeCe shakes her head. “I can’t believe he would use it like that.”

  “It seems pretty clear that he would.”

  “The only way I would consider going now is if you go with me, Holden.”

  I pull her closer, wrapping my arms tighter around her. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go, babe. I might end up in jail in Central America.”

  “Then I’m not going either.”

  “That settles it,” Thomas says. “We’ll just ride it out. Right?”

  “Right,” CeCe says.

  “Okay,” I say.

  Thomas slaps me on the back. “I gotta get home to my woman. Y’all hang tough.”

  “‘Night, Thomas,” CeCe and I say in unison.

  When the front door closes, she pulls back to look up at me. “I’m so sorry.”

  I shake my head. “How’d you do with the surprise song?”

  “I handled it, but that was pretty uncool of him. I could have made a great big fool of myself. I expected you to come out and beat him up.”

  “So did he.”

  “I’m proud of you for keeping it together.”

  “I saw red.”

  “And still walked away. You’re such a grown-up.”

  I laugh a little. “Yeah, there’s a positive, I guess.”

  “Want to go upstairs and let me show you what a good boy you were?”

  “I’ll be up as soon as I let Hank and Patsy out.”

  “Okay. I’ll be in the bath.”

  I watch her leave the kitchen, realizing how incredibly lucky I am to have her. And that there’s a line I’m not willing to let Bartley cross. Regardless of the cost.

  ♪

  CeCe

  THE NEXT MORNING, I go to an early yoga class at a studio downtown. I’m wound so tight I feel like I’m about to unspool in a million separate threads.

  I slip into the class a few minutes after the start and place my mat at the back of the room. No one acknowledges the interruption, focusing on their own poses and meditation.

  For the next hour, I slip into the peacefulness that yoga creates inside me. Once the class is done, everyone stands to roll up their mat, chatting softly in the relaxed aftermath.

  I speak to several of the women I know, but then a tall blonde woman I’ve never met walks over, sticking out her hand. “I’m Octavia Matherson. You’re CeCe Ashford?”

  “Yes.” I give her a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  “I was at the concert last night. You were wonderful, and I just wanted to tell you how great I think it is that you’re serving as ambassador for the orphanage in Belize. My husband and I are trying to adopt, so it’s a subject dear to my heart.”

  I start to tell her I won’t be doing it, but something stops me, and I just say, “I hope that will happen for you soon.”

  “Me too,” she says. “It’s such a long process, and when you’ve been waiting for a while, it gets kind of unbearable. Especially when you’ve had miscarriages.”

  I try to prevent pain from flashing across my face, but judging from her stricken expression, I don’t think I’m successful.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says, putting a hand in my arm. “That was thoughtless of me, when yours was so recent.”

  I take a step back. “I really have to be going.”

  “Good luck with the trip to Belize,” she says.

  I leave the studio, feeling guilty for my abruptness with her. I know she didn’t mean any harm, but I still haven’t gotten used to my personal life being such an open book.

  At the car, I get inside and sit for a moment with the engine running. I feel suddenly angry at Jacob for creating this situation and putting me in the middle of it.

  Just then, my cell rings. I glance at it and see his name on the screen. I start not to answer, but my current state of anger overrules common sense.

  “I’m surprised you found the courage to call me,” I say.

  “You’re mad at me?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

  I drop my head against the seat, close my eyes. “Did you expect me not to be?”

  “Maybe temporarily.”

  “It’s not temporary, Jacob. You’ve put me in a horrible position.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “It is. I really don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Give me one minute.”

  “I’m counting.”

  “I received a call yesterday morning from the director of the orphanage about a little girl who was born to one of the teens there. Sadly, the young girl died after childbirth. The baby has a hole in her heart, and they are asking me if there is any way to get her to the United States for the surgery she is going to need. It’s going to take some incredible diplomacy to get her out of the country. I’m thinking you’re the girl for the job.”

  I stay silent for several long moments, letting his words sink in. I’m so unhinged by the picture he’s just painted that I can’t think what to say.

  “CeCe? Are you still there?”

  “I—yes. That’s horrible, Jacob.”

  “It’s tragic for sure. But I think we have a chance to right something here. Give this little girl a chance at life. I’ve already been in touch with a surgeon at Vanderbilt who is willing to take on her case.”

  “I don’t really see how I can make a difference here, Jacob.”

  “You’re a celebrity with a positive reputation and that will bring credibility to the baby being in the best hands possible.”

  “You’ll understand if I’m a little suspicious of your motives.”

  “So I have a crush on you. I’m not making a secret of that. But this isn’t about me. It’s about a baby girl who might not live if she doesn’t get this opportunity.”

  I hear the sincerity in his voice, and all of a sudden, I feel shallow for making this about me. “When are you going?”

  “We would need to leave tonight. I assume you have a current passport?”

  “Yes, but tonight?”

  “Will you come, CeCe?”

  “I can’t give you an answer right now, Jacob.”

  “Then call me by one o’clock. If you can’t, I’ll go on without you. I’m just not sure I’ll be successful.”

  And with that he hangs up.

  I put my phone in the passenger seat, hardly knowing what to think about first. The fact that a newborn baby needs this opportunity. Whether I really can make a difference or if this is another ploy by Jacob to put my marriage in jeopardy. And too, what will Holden say? Would he be able to trust that Jacob is telling the truth?

  I don’t have definite answers to any of my questions. And I don’t think there’s any way I’m going to.

  ♪

  Holden

  I’M IN THE backyard throwing a Frisbee for Hank Junior when CeCe gets home. She walks out on the terrace, clapping when Hank catches it. He spots her and immediately drops the Frisbee to run and greet her.

  She drops onto her knees, and he covers her face with kisses. “Hey,” she says, looking up at me with something just short of a smile.

  “How was yoga?”

  “I’m loose,” she says.

  “Maybe I should take it up too.”

  “You’d definitely cause a st
ir in class.”

  I walk over and slip my arms around her waist, leaning in to kiss her neck. “Would I cause a stir in you?”

  She leans back to look up at me. “Always.”

  I kiss her, and then pull away, sensing there’s something she wants to say. “What is it?”

  “Can we talk?”

  “Sure.”

  I take her hand and lead her to the bench at one corner of the terrace. We sit down.

  “What is it, CeCe?” I ask.

  She looks down at her hands, then forces her gaze to mine. “I’d like to go the orphanage in Belize. There’s a newborn there who needs to come to the United States for heart surgery. Jacob says I can help make that happen.”

  Something inside me collapses a little. “Did you see him this morning?”

  “He called,” she says softly, as if she doesn’t want to cause me pain. “The teenage mother who had the baby died. Jacob thinks it won’t be easy to get permission for the baby to come here for the surgery. He thinks I might be able to persuade the officials. I would like to do this, Holden. And when I get back, we can go away for a while. Find an island somewhere. Just you, me and that palm tree.”

  I fold my arms across my chest and watch Hank Junior and Patsy as they scout the fence line. I don’t say anything for a long time, processing what she’s said, considering my response.

  “I love you, CeCe,” I finally say. “And that means I have to be willing to let you go, even if I’m afraid you’ll never come back.”

  “I will,” she says. “I promise.”

  “Don’t promise,” he says. “But if you do, I’ll be waiting.”

  I get up from the bench then and walk away, leaving the woman I love to find her own way back to me.

  ♪

  Next: Nashville: Part Ten

  Dear Reader,

  I would like to thank you for taking the time to read my story. There are so many wonderful books to choose from these days, and I am hugely appreciative that you chose mine.

  If you’d like to try another of my books, Jane Austen Girl, you can do so FREE by joining my newsletter mailing list! Just click here.

  Come check out my Facebook page for postings on books, dogs and things that make life good!

  Wishing you many, many happy afternoons of reading pleasure.

  All best,

  Inglath

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  About Inglath Cooper

  RITA® Award-winning author Inglath Cooper was born in Virginia. She is a graduate of Virginia Tech with a degree in English. She fell in love with books as soon as she learned how to read. “My mom read to us before bed, and I think that’s how I started to love stories. It was like a little mini-vacation we looked forward to every night before going to sleep. I think I eventually read most of the books in my elementary school library.”

  That love for books translated into a natural love for writing and a desire to create stories that other readers could get lost in, just as she had gotten lost in her favorite books. Her stories focus on the dynamics of relationships, those between a man and a woman, mother and daughter, sisters, friends. They most often take place in small Virginia towns very much like the one where she grew up and are peopled with characters who reflect those values and traditions.

  “There’s something about small-town life that’s just part of who I am. I’ve had the desire to live in other places, wondered what it would be like to be a true Manhattanite, but the thing I know I would miss is the familiarity of faces everywhere I go. There’s a lot to be said for going in the grocery store and seeing ten people you know!”

  Inglath Cooper is an avid supporter of companion animal rescue and is a volunteer and donor for the Franklin County Humane Society. She and her family have fostered many dogs and cats that have gone on to be adopted by other families. “The rewards are endless. It’s an eye-opening moment to realize that what one person throws away can fill another person’s life with love and joy.”

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  Free Chapter from Blue Wide Sky

  Sam

  You know how there are some things in life that you eventually allow yourself to admit you’re never going to do again?

  Things that you clung to when you were young with the arrogance that underscored life through your twenties, anyway. Until you hit thirty and that little ping of awareness started up.

  Uh-oh. This really might not go exactly like I thought it was going to. No u-turns in sight. Just straight-ahead highway like the North Dakota stretch from Gackle to Beaver Creek where you can see so far in the distance, it looks like you’ll just fall off the edge of the Earth if you ever do get there.

  At some point along the way, that’s what I eventually came to accept about Smith Mountain Lake and my memories of it. That this place and everything I had loved about it as a boy were part of my past, a time long gone, so far behind me that it wasn’t possible to ever travel back.

  Or at least that’s what I would have told myself just a few days ago.

  And yet here I am now, behind the wheel of a rented Ford Explorer, headed out of Roanoke down 581 south to 220 and the winding curves that will take me back to the heart of my childhood summers.

  The H&C coffee pot and the Dr Pepper 10-2-4 signs, both erected sometime in the 40’s, are still here among the downtown highrises. The factoid comes to my brain with my father’s voice still attached, and I remember how he’d point them out those first summers when we’d drive in from our DC home, headed for the lake house in our packed-to-the-gills station wagon.

  New on the city landscape, though, is the train-shaped museum that is a more recent part of Roanoke’s contemporary identity. I had read about it online in the New York Times and remember the pang just seeing the city name in print lifted up inside me.

  To the left of 581, Mill Mountain looms in the distance, its famous star now modestly dim in the daylight. At night, it glows red, white and blue on top of its post, earning Roanoke its nickname as the star city of the south.

  A Starbucks, a Lowes, and a BMW dealership have grown up alongside 220 heading out of Roanoke. It looks vastly different from the last time I was here, and I am suddenly anxious to leave the city limits where the countryside starts to appear in short, more familiar stretches.

  But it isn’t until I’ve hit route 40 headed east outside of Rocky Mount that I start to see green pastures, black-and-white Holstein cows grazing slope after slope. Barbed wire alternates with white board fencing; the houses ranging in style from brick ranches to two-story farmhouse structures.

  I’ve hit late afternoon traffic, and a big yellow school bus has cars lined up out of sight behind me. The transplanted Londoner in me itches to blow the horn and wave for the driver to pull over and let us all pass. I suppress the urge, realizing I don’t want to be that guy. Not here, where everyone seems content to wait. Where I used to be someone content to wait.

  The thought of London brings with it a ping of guilt.

  I should give Evan and Analise a call. Let them know where I am.

  But I don’t have the energy to get over that wall just now. It’s possible the kids haven’t even missed me yet. Evan’s on the fast track of a young career, and Analise is nearing the end of her junior year in boarding school. They are both busy and occupied with their own lives.

  For now, I’m grateful for this. At some point, I will have to talk with them, but I can use the time here to figure out how I’m going to do that.

  And as for Megan, I don’t really owe her an explanation of any kind.
Sad, but true, after twenty-three years of marriage. The life we built together wasn’t initially mine by choice, but I did commit to it, and even though what we had never felt like the love of a lifetime kind of love, I grew to care for her. I was faithful to her. Odd as it sounds, in some strange way, I am glad that I wasn’t the one who caused our marriage to end, and that I don’t have that particular guilt to live with.

  We’re still stopping every quarter mile or so, tired-looking children straggling off the bus with weighted book bags slung across their shoulders. At one stop, an enormous yellow lab dances a happy-to-see-you jig alongside a boy and a girl as they trudge up their gravel driveway.

  Ten minutes later, the bus finally takes a right and lumbers on to a smaller state road, black smoke puffing from its exhaust.

  The cell phone on the passenger seat rings, and my brother’s face pops up.

  I swipe the screen and take the call. “Ben,” I say, hearing the smile in my own voice.

  “Brother!” Ben says. “You on terra firma?”

  “Yeah, man, and happy to say so.”

  “Nice to think there’s not an ocean between our phones.”

  “Agreed,” I say.

  “It’s been too damn long since you graced this country with your presence.”

  “Yeah, I know. Hey, thanks for arranging to get the house ready.”

  “Glad to do it. I just wish we didn’t have this trip planned. We’d be meeting you there.”

  “I didn’t exactly give you any notice. And hey, I’m proud of you. That’s some award you won.”

  “Good excuse for a free vacation to Hawaii,” he says.

  “It’s a lot more than that,” I say.

  “You know I would have ditched it to see you.”

  “I do, but I’ll be here when you get back in two weeks,” I say, feeling a sudden plummet in my stomach at the words as I realize I really have no way of knowing whether that will turn out to be true. “I’ll try to be,” I amend quickly.