His For Keeps: (50 Loving States, Tennessee) Page 27

  She’s like me in some ways. As soon as she finds herself back on her feet, she tries to run, her body twisting toward the steps at the end of the dais. But I keep her there, arm squeezed tight around her shoulder. She’s smaller than me now, I’m surprised to realized. And in that moment, I feel like the mother to her child.

  I even give her the “don’t you even think about moving from this spot, heifer” look that black mothers have been using in black churches for centuries.

  Then I launch into the second verse of “Bridge Over Troubled Water.”

  No runs, no flourishes, no tears even. I just sing the song, meaning every single word as I hold my crying mother who, even after everything she put me through, I did not leave on the floor.

  In the audience, I can see Beau’s face turned toward us, like a flower toward the sun. And it makes me feel strong. Like I can do this. Like I can get through this song and this life. Even without my grandma.

  My mother surprises me by joining me on the third verse. Voice small at first but growing stronger on each line. By the end of the song, we are mother and daughter again, singing together like we used to. Voice effortlessly blending to finish the song. For Grandma.

  By the time we are done, both are faces our streaked with tears, and from what little I can see through the blur, everyone down to Beau and the pastor is crying.

  It’s a strange scene, an almost unbelievable end to me and my mother’s story. Which is why I’m sure the person I can now see standing at the back of the church is a hallucination. I scrub the tears out of my eyes with the side of my hand, because I know it just can’t be real.

  Except when my eyes are clear, I see he’s still there.

  It’s Colin.

  He’s here, standing in the church’s open doorway. Looking impossibly handsome in a dark suit, and for once, no cowboy hat. Just his shoulder-length hair hanging down in golden waves.

  And somewhere in the distance I hear my grandma’s voice say, “Well, it has been half a month of Sundays.”

  38

  Maybe it's been half a month of Sundays, but Colin doesn't seem to have gotten the message about not being mad at me anymore. He's already gone by the time I make my way to the back of the church, and by the time I see him again, at the actual burial, he's so deeply engrossed in a conversation with Rhonda, he barely glances at me when I arrive.

  I suddenly wish Rhonda wore a wig. So I could snatch it and burn it. Just like Grandma did.

  “So you two still have some unfinished business, huh?” my mother says beside me. She slid into the back of my car after the service, and has been hanging on the free arm Beau's not occupying ever since, as if she's suddenly too scared to leave my side after our performance at the church.

  Like a scared little girl. It makes me wonder how much of her was really the diva she presented to the world and how much of her was just a child, trying to raise another child on her own back when we lived together in Alabama.

  “That's what I was trying to tell her last night,” Beau says on the other side of me, bringing the subject back around to Colin.

  “No,” I answer both of them, unable to take my eyes off Colin and Rhonda. “He's… just being nice. He's here for the same reason everyone else is, because he liked Grandma.”

  My mother double takes. “What do you mean he liked Mama?”

  I look both ways. “I mean, she was really nice to him when he came to Sunday Dinner and he really liked her.”

  My mother stares at me, the look on her face saying she plainly thinks I'm telling a bold-faced lie.

  “You ain't talking about my mother, because my mother has run off every boy I ever dared to bring to Sunday Dinner. In high school, she once offered to make my boyfriend a plate, then salted it so bad he could barely choke it down. I got ex-boyfriends all around this county, and not one of them is here because she treated them so bad.”

  I shake my head, stunned, not knowing what to say. “I don't know. Maybe she mellowed with age.”

  “Maybe…” my mother says, but her eyes narrow on Colin. “You sure this thing between you two is over?”

  “Yes, it's over,” I say at the same time Beau says, “It's not over” on the other side of me.

  “I mean has it been half a month of Sundays yet?” Valerie asks.

  “Now you sound like Grandma,” I grumble.

  I'm sure even a week ago, my mother would have taken that as an insult. But today… today, she blinks back more tears and says, “Really? You think so?”

  The burial goes quickly and I spend most of it trying and failing not to sneak looks at Colin. He's standing toward the back of the small crowd, but it's still too easy to find him because he's about a head taller than most of the other funeral attendees, and also because he's the only white person other than Beau at the gravesite.

  I love Beau. I do. He's my brother, and I'm lucky to finally have him in my life. But…

  I wish it was Colin's hand I was holding beside my grandma's grave instead of his.

  A wave of self-disgust rolls over me. Pining away for an ex at my grandma's burial. Well, if that doesn't prove I didn't deserve Best Grandbaby status, I don't know what does. Nonetheless, the wish stays with me, growing bigger and bigger in my heart, until I can barely hear the pastor's words over them.

  But it's obvious Colin's not wishing the same thing. As soon as we're done throwing dirt on the casket, he heads back to his truck without even a backward glance at me.

  I turn to watch him go, and that brings Beau's head up, too. “What's going on?” he asks.

  “That country singer's leaving without even a good-bye,” my mother answers. “I've never seen nothing so rude in all my life.”

  Neither have I.

  And that, of all moments, is when the music comes suddenly comes back. An angry first verse unfurls in my head about stubborn exes with egos made of rawhide.

  I drop both Beau's and my mother's arms and go after him, catching up about halfway up the hill to the road lined with cars above.

  “You're really just going to leave without speaking to me?” I ask, grabbing him by the arm.

  He turns, a look of pain flashing across his face, like my touch has hurt him. But that look is quickly replaced with the seething anger from before.

  “You're right. I should have stopped to give you my condolences,” he says. “Your grandmother was a good woman. I'm sorry for your loss. Good-bye.”

  He starts to turn, but I grab on tighter to his arm. “No,” I say. “Let me-let me at least say I'm sorry… for everything.”

  Colin shakes his head. “We're not doing this. Especially not here. Just let me go.”

  If he'd said anything else, I probably would have done just that. Run back to my own car and cried behind my wheel for messing things up with him so bad. But he said “especially not here.”

  And that's what makes me realize, yes, here. It has to be here. If not here, then nowhere, because I can already tell if I let Colin leave now, this will be the last time I ever see him outside of a TV screen. Just like my mother needed to finish that song, I know I have to at least try. Right here. Right now. For Grandma.

  “No,” I say to him. “I have something else I need to say to you.”

  “What?” he all but growls, with a glance over my shoulder. I can see out of the corner of my eye that we've attracted a crowd of family members. They're arched in a circle behind me. Beau and my mother at the front.

  Colin's eyes bounce from me to them. Then he asks, “What could you possibly have to say that would make a difference, Kyra?”

  “You're welcome,” I answer, my voice defiant.

  Colin's eyes narrow. “What?”

  “You're welcome. When Wyatt LaGrange called, he told me you finally finished a new album. So it looks like you got a lot of good material out of what went down between us, too. You're welcome.”

  Rage flares across Colin's face and he takes another step to fully face me. “You really are ba
tshit crazy, aren't you?” he asks, his voice harsh with barely contained anger.

  “Oooh! No he didn't call her crazy to her face,” I hear LaTrelle say behind me.

  “Yes, I am crazy.” I answer him, unblinking, still refusing to let go of his arm, no matter how intimidated I feel with him looming over me. “I really am, Colin. And so are you. That's why we belong together-because we're both crazy. And because we get each other on every level. So yeah, I think we should just go'on ahead and be crazy together.”

  Colin jerks back, blinking like he's just been sprayed with a heap of cow dung. “Oh, is that what you think? Because let me tell you what I'm thinking right now. I might be crazy, but I know not to get back with a girl who lied to me about damn near everything.”

  He wags a finger between the two of us. “Whatever we had-that's a Taylor Swift song now, because I can't trust you. Do you understand? I told you from the start, that was my only deal breaker and you went and lied to me anyway!”

  “Yes, I did!” I yell back at him. “Because I am a lie. I grew up the secret daughter of an important man who wanted nothing to do with me-the whole first half of my life was nothing but a lie. Truth is, until very recently, I didn't know how not to lie about who I really am. And I lied to you worst of all, because I was scared about how you'd react if you found out the truth about me.”

  I step closer to him, my voice shaky but determined as I say, “But the feelings between us. Those are real. I meant every word I said about loving you, and my willingness to give everything I have to give to you.”

  Colin flinches, obviously taken aback by me finally being completely straight with him. But then he says, “Well, that's not enough.”

  He rips his arm out of my hand and starts walking away.

  That's not enough. My heart cries with the truth of it as I watch him go. My love, my body-it isn't enough to get him to forgive me.

  So I make one last desperate grab to save what I broke. “Alright, I've already given you all of me. How about if I throw in my catalog?” I ask his back.

  He stops, but doesn't turn around, and I tell him, “I've got nearly a million views online. Wyatt LaGrange is talking about pairing my songs with some real big acts.”

  “What?” I hear my mom say in the crowd behind me. “Why didn't anybody tell me about this?”

  I ignore her. “If you take me back, you can have all of them for your imprint, free of charge.”

  It's a crazy offer. One no writer in her right mind would ever make, and I can tell I've gotten through. I've shocked him into actually listening to me, but he still doesn't turn around.

  “Also, I've got a family, and you've got, well, nobody,” I tell his back, my voice tinged with desperation. “If you take me back, you get my family, too, which means you won't be alone anymore. I mean, yeah, they're crazy, just like me. But they're also funny and loyal and very forgiving. I mean, did I tell you my grandma once lit Auntie Beulah Mae's wig on fire and they were still the best of friends?”

  “It's true!” I hear Beulah Mae call out to Colin behind me. “Not the crazy part. I'm eighty-two and got a sounder mind than all you young folks put together. But the wig burnin' and best friends part-that's true.”

  “Thank you, Beulah Mae,” I say.

  “You're welcome, baby,” she calls back.

  “Seriously, Colin, you should take the deal,” I hear Beau say behind me. “I love them already and I only met them yesterday.”

  But Colin still doesn't turn around, and then I see his muscles bunch, preparing to walk on, and I can't let that happen. I can't…

  So I take a huge breath and bring out the biggest gun I have. Bigger than my promise to never lie to him again. Bigger than my song catalog. Bigger than my family. Bigger even than my love for him.

  “And I have the recipe for the chicken!” I cry. “In fact the chicken you ate at that Sunday Dinner-it was mine.”

  I hear a collective gasp go up from my family, and I know I'm going to have hell to pay later, but I go on, giving him my very last secret.

  “Grandma taught me how to make it after my mom left me with her, to cheer me up. But then the Sunday Dinner became a little too much for her, so she'd been letting me handle the chicken while she did all the rest for a while. That chicken you ate when you came round to my grandma's-I made it.”

  This, of all things, finally turns Colin around.

  “You're lying,” he says, his voice barely level, because of the anger. “Again.”

  I shake my head. “No, I'm not. I swear. And I will make you that chicken whenever you want, even if I have to come on the road with you to Europe, I'll do it.”

  Colin stops, a shadow of smile crossing over his face, as if he's actually considering that scenario. But then he shakes his head again. “No, I don't trust you, “ he says. “I can't trust you ever again.”

  That's when my desperation gives way to flat out anger.

  “Stop this, Colin,” I practically snarl at him, more pissed off than I've ever been at a man, including my trifling father. “You think you can just demand everything from me, and then throw me back when you decide again that you can't trust me?”

  I jab my finger into the air at him. “Fuck you. Fuck you and your weak heart, acting like you're too fragile to handle me. You can handle me, you son of a bitch. You made me. You own me now, and I own you. And I'm not going back to my grandma's house, to live out my life lonely without you. So stop fucking around and take me home to Nashville, right now. Right now, Colin.”

  Colin stares at me, his blues eyes hollowed out with disbelief.

  “Take me home, right n-”

  I don't get a chance to finish that command, because Colin turns around and this time, there's no hesitation as he starts back up the hill toward his truck.

  I hear a murmur go through the crowd behind me. And the voice of Darnell, who's technically a cousin five times removed, saying, “Hey, it ain't against the law for me to marry you, and if you serious about knowing how to cook Grandma's friend chicken...”

  “Shut up, Darnell,” I hear LaTrelle say.

  “I'm just sayin…”

  It's funny, but I don't laugh.

  My heart is screaming with anguish as I watch Colin walk away. Looking exactly like what he is. What he's always been. The loner. Once again. And maybe for always, this time.

  I watch him yank open the door of his black Silverado, start to get in… only to freeze in the doorway.

  My hearts stutters in the middle of its anguished scream, afraid to hope… But then he slowly turns back around. And my heart starts screaming with a whole 'nother emotion when he comes walking back toward me.

  I run toward him, meeting him halfway, and it feels like worlds colliding when he sweeps me up into his arms and kisses the hell out of me, in front of Beau, in front of my family, and in front of Grandma, who I am sure is smiling at us from up above.

  When he finally sets me down, he whispers in my ear, “You're right, I am crazy, and this time you are going to spend a whole month tied up in my bed to make up for this.”

  “Okay,” I agree. Easily. Happily.

  Then he glares at me and says loud enough for my whole family to hear, “And I swear, Blue, if you're lying to me about that chicken…”

  “I'm not,” I assure him with a watery laugh. The tears are back now. Because I'm so happy. Because Colin's taken me back. Because I'm once again his for keeps. And because I know I won't ever do anything to mess that up again. “I swear I'm not lying.”

  He gives me a harsh look, his blue eyes glittering in the winter sunlight. “Nothing but the truth between us from now on. You promise me that.”

  “I promise,” I answer, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I swear it to you, Colin.”

  I've never been so happy to make a promise in my life, or to seal that vow with a kiss.

  Epilogue

  “You’re lying!”

  Colin smiles at me lazily over his shoulder as he p
ulls on a black cowboy boot. “You want to accuse me of lying to you now? What happened to all those promises we made about us always telling the truth?”

  “That’s what I’m wondering?” I answer. I’d be getting dressed, too, but Colin has yet to release me from his bed. He wasn’t kidding about keeping me tied up for a month. He lets me out at regular intervals to use the bathroom, and if I’m very good, to have a cup of coffee, but other than that, if we’re at home, I’m pretty much tied to his bed.

  I’m not going to lie. I don’t hate this. And even now, I watch him hungrily as he pulls on his boots, wondering if he’s really going to leave me here, horny and naked while he’s—I have no idea.

  “Seriously, where are you really going?” I ask him.

  “I told you,” he answers with another over the shoulder grin as he pulls on his other boot.

  “Yeah, but I know you’re lying!”

  “Now, why would you think that, Liz?”

  Colin’s been calling me Liz ever since he re-colored my hair green for me a few days ago. He says he did it himself because he was truly curious about what a color called “Electric Lizard” would look like on me. But I think he did it because after all these years of being kowtowed to, he actually likes doing stuff like cooking for me and dying my hair. Either that or he just didn’t want to untie me so I could do it myself. One of those.

  “Because there’s no possibility you’re actually going into the studio to work with Roxxy RoxX on my song.”

  “Why not? Roxxy and me are old friends. Because of me she got her first Country number one.”

  Which I doubt mattered much to her, because by that time, she’d already clocked a ton of Pop Chart number ones.

  “You mean she gave you your first Pop number one. And I don’t think that’s enough to make her come out of early retirement to sing my little song.”

  “It’s a good song,” Colin answers, like this is a simple fact. Like the only thing that was keeping Roxxy RoxX out of the recording studio all this time was a really good song. “And say what you want about Roxxy, but she knows a good song when she hears it.”