Читать книгу Heartstrings - Sara Walter Ellwood - Страница 10

Seth walked up the stone pathway to the front of the Spanish style house of the Circle R Ranch. He had a lot of fond memories of the old place. Carolann always had a way of making him feel welcome and wanted.

Dear God, how he’d wished his mother could have been more like her when he was little. Then after his father had changed and become mean and started hitting him, he wished he could have moved in with the Ritters. That he and Mike were real brothers and he wouldn’t have to go home ever again.

He looked past the barn. New white paint reflected the late afternoon sun. Black Angus cattle fed on the grass and sleek horses stood in the corral. During his and Mike’s senior year, the cattle had been sold off to pay the mounting debts, and the only horses around had been two old swayback mares.

Frank had served his first term as county judge then, but he had never been a good manager of finances. He’d run the place to the ground and was living from hand to mouth for years.

He looked back at the house. It, too, had been updated with amenities it hadn’t had fifteen years ago. The pool was new, as was the four-car garage in front of which was parked a fancy black sports car. He recognized the Mercedes from the funeral. Mike and Tammy Jo.

He took another deep breath and headed up the steps to the front door. He might have an ulterior motive for showing up at Thursday supper, but Carolann had invited him, and he wanted to visit with her and Frank. If he met his daughter while here, so be it.

The thought scared the hell out of him.

What would she think of him? Could she ever understand why he had to leave? His father had demanded he give up singing after high school. He couldn’t give it up any more than he could breathing. The talent show had been his only real chance to get out of Texas and make his dreams come true.

He’d come back, but it was too late. Abby had already given his baby away. She’d already given her heart to someone else. He’d wanted to see his little girl over the years, but every time he’d gathered his courage to come home, Mike’s words burned in his mind.

What kind of father do you think you’ll be, Seth?

With the reminder of his parents’ messed up lives, he’d convinced himself Emily was better off never knowing him.

Until now.

He tucked the bottle of red wine he’d brought under his arm and gripped the handle of his guitar case tighter with a sweaty hand. According to Frank, Emily was quite a fan of his.

Something sweet and warm curled inside his heart.

When the door opened after he rang the doorbell, he expected Carolann. Instead, he met the wide green eyes of a tall, thin, auburn-haired girl who resembled a combination of Abby and his Granny Kendall too much to be a fluke.

Jesus, she was beautiful.

He rubbed his goatee and forced air through his constricting voice box to form words. “You must be...Emily?” He swallowed the lump in his throat and painted on a smile. “I’m guessing you already know who I am.”

But she didn’t know him at all. Dear God, he was this girl’s father.

She swung the door open, and the shock turned into the biggest and brightest smile he’d ever seen. The force of it hit his solar plexus like a fist.

She held out her hand. “I’m Emily Ritter. Hi.”

He looked at her hand, and a million different feelings tumbled through him--fear, joy, amazement, excitement and so many more, he couldn’t keep track. He doubted a blind man seeing a sunrise for the first time could feel this happy. Trembling, he encircled her warm fingers with his big hand.

You’re my little girl.

The baby he’d tried for fifteen years to forget about and never quite succeeded.

Her grip was soft and cool and her fingers trembled. Good, maybe she didn’t feel just how badly his shook.

When he let go, she balled her hand into a loose fist, held it over her heart and giggled. “I’d have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to know who you are. But that wouldn’t be an excuse in my family. Please come in, Mr. Kendall.”

Inside the foyer, he set his guitar case next to the wall and hung his hat on the hat rack by the door. Only one other hat hung on the hooks. He stared at Mike’s thousand-dollar tan Resistol, and rage boiled the bile in his belly.

He yanked his gaze from the hat and smiled at his baby. “Please call me Seth.”

She blushed and nodded. “Okay, Seth it is. Grandma’s in the kitchen. Everyone else is out back on the patio.”

He followed her down the hall to the big open kitchen. Carolann turned away from the counter where she was tossing a salad. She smiled and wiped her hands on her white apron.

“I brought red wine.” He set the bottle on the island counter. “I think it’s still chilled.”

“Thank you. Emily, why don’t you set it in the fridge for now.” She walked around the island and hugged him. He towered over her petite, five-foot frame. “I’m so glad you could make it.” When she stepped away, she glanced at Emily, who closed the refrigerator door and shoved her hands into the back pockets of her denim shorts. “I told you I had a surprise for you.”

Emily averted her eyes and sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Abby used to do the same thing when she was embarrassed.

“Emily idolizes you.” Carolann smiled up at him again. “She prances around singing your songs all the time.”

“Grandma!” Emily’s eyes widened.

Carolann raised a brow. “Did I tell a lie?” She winked at him. “Of course, that isn’t as embarrassing as some of the stories I could tell about him.”

He laughed on cue, but it was strangled and forced.

Emily shook her head. “I have all of your music downloaded on my iPod. I can sing and play piano and guitar. And I talked Mom and Dad into letting me sing at the Founder’s Day picnic next month.” She blushed as red as her tank top and looked down at the floor. “I hope you don’t mind. I’d like to sing some of your songs.”

His heart beat so fast and hard he feared it was going to pound right out of his chest. He couldn’t concentrate on anything except that he and Abby had created this--this person, together.

“Seth, are you all right?” Carolann’s warm touch on his arm and the concern lacing her soft southern voice drove a hole through the fog surrounding him.

He blinked. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little...I just…just thought of Dad...” he lied. He shook his head, trying to clear it.

Emily wanted to sing his songs? Dear God, his chest hurt. He put his hand over his heart.

Carolann patted his arm. “I understand perfectly. It’s never easy losing someone. Even someone you didn’t think you cared a fig about.”

He nodded agreement, but it wasn’t losing his father that had him turned upside down and inside out.

The kitchen door opened. “Mom, how much longer? Dad’s getting antsy...” Mike’s words died on his lips when he walked into the kitchen. His gaze hardened and snapped to Emily.

Carolann picked up the large salad bowl, and a wide smile lit up her face. “Michael, be a dear and take this out to the patio and tell your father dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

Mike made no move to take the bowl. “Emily, do as your grandmother asked. I’d like to have a minute with Seth.”

Emily’s face fell and she huffed. “But, Daddy...”

Mike raised a brow, and she reached for the bowl with all the drama only a fourteen-year-old girl could muster.

Carolann looked from Mike to Emily as she handed the bowl to her. “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to bend Seth’s ears.”

Mike waited until Emily exited through the kitchen door and Carolann headed for the pantry before moving toward the hall to the living room. Seth followed him into the front room.

Mike slid the pocket door closed before turning loose the fury in his saddle-brown eyes. “What the hell are you doing, showing up here?”

Seth turned away and walked around the familiar room slowly. He, Mike and Abby had done their share of romping in here. “I’m here for dinner. Your parents invited me.”

Mike watched him with his hands fisted by his sides and his feet apart. “You should have declined.”

“And disappoint your momma? I don’t think so.” He stopped at the mantle with its display of family photos. He picked one up of Mike holding baby Emily. He was all smiles and looked every bit the proud papa.

Something in him broke. A floodgate that held back more than a decade of pain and betrayal. He returned the frame with a shaky hand. This time, the trembling wasn’t from overwhelming amazement, but barely controlled anger.

He turned and worked to keep his temper in check. “I only have one question for you.” He had to unclench his back teeth to chew out the words. “Why did you marry Abby?”

Mike moved the lace curtain to look out the front window. “I loved her.” His voice was low and as cold as a Montana wind in mid-January. “That’s more than can be said for you. You only wanted a piece of ass.” Dropping the lace, Mike turned and faced him with a sneer twisting his pretty-boy face. His eyes were as icy as his voice. “I told you that when we had this very same discussion after Emily was born, if I recall.”

Seth took a step closer and grabbed his shirt. Mike’s voice from that day fourteen years ago echoed in his mind.

“What kind of father do you think you’ll be, Seth? Yours is a son-of-a-bitch to you most of the time. Your mother killed herself just because she had to live the simple life like the rest of us. Abby and I are married. You’ll be away more than you’ll ever be here. I’m not going anywhere. I love that baby, Seth. I love her. What do you feel for her?”

At the time, he hadn’t known what he felt. How wrong had he been? About Mike being a better father than he could ever be. And about not fighting for his right to be a father to the little girl who’d stolen his heart without him ever seeing her. “You didn’t give me a chance to be her father. You didn’t even allow me to see her.”

Mike pushed his hand away and stepped back. “I’m not fighting you, not here. But what I do want is for you to leave my family alone. As far as I’m concerned, you are a non-entity in Emily’s life. If it was up to me, she wouldn’t even be allowed to listen to your music.”

“What I don’t get is why.”

Mike shrugged and straightened the wrinkles Seth’s grip had made in his linen shirt. “Does love have to have a reason? Emily’s my daughter.”

“Hello?” The voice belonged to Abby.

As the front door clicked closed, Carolann called, “I’m in the kitchen, dear.”

Seth ground his teeth together. What was she doing here?

At the pocket doors, Mike glared over his shoulder at him. “I won’t let you hurt Emily or Abby. They’ve both been through enough.”

He squared his shoulders. “Who said I had any intention of hurting anyone? I just want what I’ve been denied.”

Mike slid the doors open, and Abby looked through the opening. Her eyes narrowed and she stood straighter. “What are you doing here?”

He pushed past Mike into the foyer. “Wow, I feel so welcome.”

“Mom! Did you see who...” Emily ran down the hall from the kitchen. “I guess you did.” She looked from her mother to Mike to him, her expression falling and taking on the pucker of confusion. “What’s going on? Why do y’all look so mad?”

Mike smiled and draped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Something in Seth squeezed and the acid in his gut churned when Emily met Mike’s gaze with trusting eyes only a daughter could have for her father.

“Nothing.” Mike glanced at Abby. “I didn’t expect your mother, that’s all.” The obvious lie seemed to slide easily off Mike’s tongue.

Emily rolled her eyes. “Right. The wicked witch might not like it.”

“Emily,” Abby said in an exasperated tone, “please, don’t speak about Tammy Jo that way. She’s your stepmother.”

Seth clamped down on his teeth so hard pain shot through his face. Obviously, Tammy Jo hadn’t changed much in the intervening fifteen years since he’d left town. He wouldn’t have his daughter mistreated by anyone.

Mike’s jaw worked as if he had to unlock it to get the words out between the compressed line of his lips. “Tammy Jo is doing her best, sweetheart. Give her time. Now, let’s go have dinner.”

Mike’s arm remained wrapped around Emily’s shoulders as he led her down the hall. Abby fell into step behind them, and Seth followed.

Frank and Tammy Jo greeted him with a welcome that surprised him, after the chilly response he’d received from his old-time best friends.

Mike moved around the large glass-and-wrought-iron table. Letting go of Emily’s shoulders, he pulled out a chair for her to sit, then helped Tammy Jo into her seat. He sat between his wife and Emily.

Seth pulled out a chair and raised a brow at Abby.

“Thank you,” she murmured and slid into the chair.

Carolann brought a platter of thick steaks to the table. He helped her into her chair, and she smiled at him as he took a chair between her and Abby. “My, what a gentleman you’ve turned into.”

“You taught me well. What else can I say?” He looked around at the food in the middle of the table. “Everything smells delicious, Carolann.”

She waved his compliment away. “Frank, why don’t you pop the cork on that fancy bottle of wine Seth brought with him? We’ll save Tammy Jo’s wine for the next time.”

Frank retrieved the bottle from the kitchen. He held the bottle up upon his return to look at the label.

Tammy Jo’s eyes brightened the moment she saw the bottle. “Tahbilk Shiraz. I’m impressed. Wish I could drink some,” she said, looking across the table at him. “You have good taste.”

He shrugged and unfolded his brightly colored napkin in his lap. “I like good wine.”

“I hope you didn’t pay an arm and a leg for it. I told you we were just having steaks.” Carolann picked up the salad bowl.

“I think I can afford it.”

“I saw Forbes Magazine just ranked you at the top of its richest country singers,” Emily said, and he met her awed gaze.

Swallowing hard, he shifted in his seat and shrugged. “Don’t pay too much attention to those reports.”

Carolann passed the salad bowl to Tammy Jo, who filled her plate and passed the bowl to Mike, then looked across at him again. “I saw you in Dallas in March. What a show! I couldn’t believe our very own Seth Kendall could sell out an entire football stadium.”

He turned to take the wine from Abby. When his fingers brushed hers, awareness zapped through him. He held her gaze a beat longer than necessary.

She blinked and let go of the bottle. If he hadn’t hustled to hold on, the hundred-dollar wine would have slipped out of his numb fingers and landed on the concrete floor of the patio.

“Thanks. This past year was amazing.” He glanced at Tammy Jo as he poured the wine into his glass.

“What’s it like being so rich and famous?” Emily took the salad bowl from Mike and dumped a pile on her plate.

His tongue felt heavy and dry. “I guess it’s fun, though I don’t like the lack of privacy sometimes. People always want to know what’s going on in your life when you’re famous. Like that Forbes article. Why would it matter how much money I made? The music I play should, which is the reason I can fill stadiums and sell millions of records.” He shifted in his chair again and looked around the table. Every eye was pinned on him, and he quickly averted his gaze to his plate.

Abby took the salad bowl from Frank and put a small amount from it on her plate. When she passed the bowl to Seth, she was careful not to touch him. Had she felt the same electricity he had the last time her fingers brushed his? “But just think what you had to give up to play that music and make those millions.”

Her quiet words hit him like a punch. Yeah, he knew what he’d given up. But she hadn’t given him a goddamned choice either.

Before he could respond with something he could say aloud, Emily asked, “Do you have any favorite singers?”

He pulled his gaze from Abby to Emily. She pushed her salad around on her plate as a soft blush colored her cheeks.

“Yeah, I have my favorites. But there are too many to name.” He tried to clear the lump from his throat. It didn’t work. “I’m influenced by a lot of different singers and styles.”

“Do you ever listen to other kinds of music?” She looked up from her plate with big green eyes so much like his own, his chest tightened. How could no one else see the resemblance?

He shrugged and picked up his fork. “You can’t be in this business unless you do. I love all kinds of music, though country is what I do because that’s what I am. What kinds of music do you like, sunshine?”

Abby caught his eye, and he held her gaze. Something deep and bruised filled the brown depths.

“There isn’t much that I don’t like either.” Emily’s lips curled into a small smile. “I’ll listen to anything. That drives Daddy nuts.” She playfully poked Mike in the arm with her elbow. “He doesn’t have much appreciation for different kinds of music.”

Mike put his fork down and bumped her shoulder with his. “No, I guess I don’t. But then, I don’t consider half of what’s on top forty radio music anyway. Whether they call it country or otherwise.” He looked across at Seth and picked up his glass of water. “I never understood how you could want to be a country singer, but would turn my stereo as high as it would go and jam out with Kiss or Michael Jackson.”

“I remember,” Abby said with a wry grin. “I never quite got that either.”

“I prefer classical and jazz. Mike hates my music too.” Tammy Jo patted Mike’s forearm. “Don’t you, cupcake?”

Cupcake? Seth hid his grin by stuffing salad into his mouth.

“I don’t hate your music.” Mike grinned at her. “Sweetpea.”

Emily made gagging sounds, and they all laughed--except for Mike and Tammy Jo. Frank cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow at the lovebirds, but Mike and Tammy Jo clearly were thinking about other things.

Seth glanced at Abby. She’d tucked her chin and smiled. Not the response one would expect from the jilted wife. He leaned back in his chair. What the hell really went on fifteen years ago? Maybe his aunt knew something.

Emily brought him out of his thoughts. “Do you know everyone in the music business?”

He shook his head and shifted forward to pick up his fork again. “Of course not, but I’d like to think I have a lot of friends in Nashville. Country singers usually stick together. Oh, there’re feuds now and then, but it’s been said that those of us in county music are like one big family.”

“I noticed your guitar by the door...” Emily’s bright, hopeful eyes left no mistaking the unspoken question.

“Yeah, I thought after supper we could play a few songs together.”

“Oh, that would be wonderful.” Carolann clapped her hands together.

“I thought you had something to do.” Mike glared and squared his shoulders.

“Nope.” He smiled and picked up his wineglass. “I’m all yours tonight.”

“I propose a toast.” Tammy Jo stopped him, before he could take a sip of the wine. She raised her glass of apple juice.

Mike all but scowled at her. “Whatever for?”

She smiled and glanced at her husband. “To good fortune, of course.”

Abby lifted her glass of wine and looked across her shoulder at him. “Sounds good to me.”

“To good fortune, then.” Touching her glass with his, he smiled. He had a feeling her idea of good fortune wasn’t the same as what he had in mind.

* * * *

Abby had long ago lost her appetite, but she’d managed to force some salad and half a steak down her throat. She hadn’t wanted to come to dinner at the Ritters’. Tammy Jo always had a way of making her feel unwelcome in the house she had always considered home. She’d only come to appease Carolann.

Now, she understood why her ex-mother-in-law had been so adamant for her to show up. Seth was going to be here. In Carolann’s way of thinking, it was a reunion between three old best friends.

She put a glass into the dishwasher and turned to take the plates Seth rinsed in the sink. “I want you to keep this sing-a-long short.”

He wiped his hands on a towel, leaned his backside on the edge of the island, and crossed his arms below the rolled up sleeves. She tried not to notice the way his white western shirt stretched over his broad shoulders, or how the muscles bunched in his arms. “Afraid the Ritters might figure out your little charade if they see us together too long?”

She glanced around and kept her tone low as she closed the door of the dishwasher and set the dial. “No. You forget that my father was Irish. Mike and I had explained away Emily’s coloration a long time ago.”

“Well, wasn’t that convenient.”

She felt his gaze boring into her back as she picked the dishcloth out of the soapy water in the sink.

“Why didn’t you ever tell the Ritters the truth about Emily?” His voice rumbled through her, low and determined.

“Mike said it would be better for everyone if we kept the truth secret.” Unable to meet his gaze, she busied herself with wiping the counter.

Seth moved to stand over her. “But you aren’t so sure that was a good idea.”

She set the dishcloth on the countertop and faced him. “I never set out to deceive you or anyone else. But neither do you have a right to come in here and destroy Emily’s life, or mine. Mike Ritter is the only father she knows. He’s the only father she’s ever had.”

He leaned in. His lips were close enough to kiss, and his scent of sandalwood and something exotic enveloped her, taking her back to that night on the beach. His eyes flashed with the dangerous fire of his temper. It was similar to the flame of the passion she’d once seen in the green depths. She didn’t expect or want the heat curling in her belly, and shivered with a sudden and fierce desire.

“I’m her father, Abigail. I wanted to be her father after she was born. It was you and Mike who insisted I had no business messing things up.”

“I never said any such thing. You never tried. You just left.”

He pounded a fist on the counter top so hard she jumped. “Yes, I left! I wasn’t welcome at home. Dad ran me off with a shotgun. Mike wouldn’t even let me see my daughter. He made it quite clear you and he were happily married, and I had no place in your life. I was under contract to be in Nashville to start recording my first album.”

What did he mean, Mike wouldn’t let him see Emily?

Before she had a chance to voice her question, his eyes darkened as the pupils dilated, obscuring the stormy green. “But I’m no longer nineteen and scared shitless. I could make things very rough for you and this fantasy you’ve got working.”

A cold lump quickly replaced the tangle of heat in her belly. “What-what do you mean?”

He backed off and tapped the countertop. “I’m talking a custody battle. I could have a judge order a paternity test. I think we both know the media hoopla the results would cause.”

Her heart slammed into her chest wall. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Try me. Now that I’ve met Emily, I want to get to know her.” He walked over to look out the kitchen window. The hard line of his jaw melted, and he swallowed so hard his throat moved up and down. “I was a fool when I let Mike talk me out of being in her life after she was born.”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at her. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

The strings of guitar music provided a soft counterpoint to the hard tension in the kitchen. Emily was outside on the patio playing around with her guitar, waiting for them to finish with the dishes she and Seth had insisted on doing.

“All I want is to have some time with my daughter. That’s all I’m asking for.” When he looked over his shoulder at her, sadness replaced the anger in his eyes. “I’ll keep your little secret. I’ll just be her favorite singer. The family friend who made it big in Nashville. I don’t want to hurt her. As much as it galls the hell out of me, I see what Mike means to her.”

He moved toward her and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Besides, I don’t want to hurt Carolann or Frank any more than you do.” He glanced outside again, his voice husky as he spoke. “But I’ll sue you if I have to.”

A part of her wanted to give in to him, but a larger part wanted to punish him. Let him take her to court; she’d make sure the world knew what kind of jerk Seth Kendall really was.

She gritted her teeth and fisted her hands by her sides. “I’ll let you have tonight, Seth. But don’t ask for more.”

She turned away and strode through the French doors.