CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALONE AGAIN
Belinda tested her bladder to the limits, determined to drive straight through to Brookside Bend, Tennessee. She kept the music cranked up, singing along at the top of her lungs and consuming more junk food than her body could possibly process. She tried not to think about Oliver and concentrated on going over more of the details her mother had told her about the music theater. They wanted to open by October 1, the busiest time of the year for the Great Smoky Mountains, known for the spectacular fall foliage.
Belinda shook her head, thinking this was quite a tall order, since they were heading into August. But according to her mom, they’d made progress on the renovations and the facility should be ready in just a few weeks. Fine, but other than herself, who would they headline? Her father scoffed at her worries, saying that they had plenty of local talent to use. He wanted to create a variety show atmosphere for the weekend performances. But Belinda knew that they had to bring in some big names to get the ball rolling, and that meant filling the theater to pay the entertainment.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, she felt a shiver of fear slide down her spine. She knew venues like this could fold quickly if not managed properly.
Belinda groaned, thinking that her parents were banking on her name bringing in people. But how would they react to her singing country music instead of pop? She thought of Ricky Nelson’s classic song “Garden Party” and shuddered. Would she be booed off the stage?
A moment later her phone rang, cutting off the radio. “Hi, Dad,” Belinda said.
“How far out are you?”
“Mmmm, four hours maybe.”
“You’re making good time. You’re not speeding, are you?”
“No, Dad, but I seem to recall you like puttin’ the pedal to the metal on windy country roads around the mountainside.”
Laughter came through the speakers. “I’ve settled down a bit.”
“So, are you at the theater?”
“Are you kiddin’? I practically live here, sugar plum.”
“What’s Mom doin’?”
“Considering food trucks. We have our liquor license, but we don’t want to get into serving food, at least in the beginning. How do you feel about food trucks?”
“Very current. People love them in Nashville. Lots of wineries and craft breweries rely upon food trucks. I think it’s a great idea.”
“I wasn’t sure, but your mother insisted. She’s been glued to her laptop, doing research.”
“I’m still blown away that this is even happening,” Belinda admitted. “Seriously.”
“This has breathed new life into us, Belinda. We were getting into a rut.”
“Well that’s been busted wide open! Dad, I’m just worried about you losing what could have been a very nice retirement.”
“I’m only fifty. They say it’s the new thirty, but my knees disagree,” he said with a chuckle. “And, Belinda, I really don’t give a fig if we end up losing our asses. Well, I care, but it doesn’t scare me. I grew up living hand to mouth. Money is a commodity. If this goes down the shitter, I’ll go back to farming. Sell off some land or oak trees. Whatever. I haven’t felt this alive in years. And, baby girl, the very best part is bringing you back to Brookside Bend where you belong. You’ve been in Nashville way too long. Your mother is over the moon.”
“You’re gonna make me cry.”
“No tears. I can’t wait to see your beautiful, smiling face. You always did light up a room.”
“Well, I sure better light up the Belinda Beal auditorium.”
He laughed. “Oh, I don’t have any doubts about that. Not a one. And I’ve rounded up that old barn dance band and we’ve been practicing.”
“Stone Gap Band?”
“Yep. The old guys and a few new younger members. Belinda, they sound fantastic. All they need is your voice.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I’m right. Ultimately, I want to have a lot of comedy, maybe some sketches. I think a Hee Haw kind of thing. What do you think?”
Belinda remembered watching reruns of the classic show. “I think that would go over great. Do you have anyone in mind for the emcee?”
“I have an idea,” he said slowly, piquing her curiosity. “But we’ll talk about that when you get here. I was just checkin’ in on your progress. You be careful, you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Dad,” she said, and laughed. Jack Beal had a deep, booming voice that was impossible not to hear. “I’ll see you soon. Hey, should I stop there or head home?”
“Give me a holler when you’re close. If it’s not too late I want to give you a tour, but then your mother wants to cook dinner for you.”
“Chicken fried steak, green beans, and mashed potatoes.” Her stomach rumbled at the thought.
“How did you know?”
“It’s my favorite.”
“Well, that’s what’s on the menu.”
“Okay, now I might have to challenge the speed limit.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Just kiddin’. See you soon.”
After ending the call, her music came back on. The conversation with her father had shifted her odd mood. How could she begin to balance excitement, the longing for her home, her parents, with the acute pain of missing Oliver? Her brain couldn’t decipher the wild swings of emotion. And then throw the whole Belinda Beal theater into the mix. Jeez.
Belinda also couldn’t decide if she was relieved or sad that Oliver hadn’t called or sent her a text message. But then again, she was the one who had asked for a clean break. And in truth, anything other than cold turkey would have been too difficult in the long run. This way she got to keep those blissful weeks at his home tucked away in a safe corner of her heart. She had a few selfies of him saved on her phone, and when she mustered the courage, she’d look at them. Maybe.
When she entered the state of Tennessee, she let out a cheer. “Not long now!” Rolling hills led to mountains looming in the distance. Her ears popped as she ascended. Lush, late summer foliage, thick and green, had her smiling. Even through the windows of her SUV, she felt the familiar beauty wrap around her like a welcome-home hug.
Belinda allowed herself one gas up and potty break, resisting the nearby fast food chain. Who wanted a cheeseburger when her mother was fixing chicken fried steak? Fresh green beans from her yard and the best smashed red potatoes on the planet? Uh, not this girl.
Just an hour away now, Belinda thought she was doing a bang-up job by not crying all the way home. “Stay strong,” she said, but then the classic Heartbeat song “Give Me Another Tomorrow” came on and she lost it, nearly having to pull to the side of the road. “Why?” she shouted, knowing she should change the station, but she tortured herself by listening. What were the odds? But then again, the odds were rarely in her favor. She could pick out young Oliver’s voice in the harmony and smiled through her tears.
Belinda’s chest tightened and she had the wild urge to swing the SUV in an aggressive U-turn, not a wise choice on the windy road. Flying off into the wild blue yonder wasn’t the way she wanted to leave this world. “Get your shit together,” she growled, and kept going.
Because she still had a bit of daylight left, Belinda called her father, hoping he was still at the theater. “Hey, Dad, I’m getting close.”
“We’re still here so swing on by.”
“See you in a few,” Belinda said, and had to shake her head at the sign: WELCOME TO BROOKSIDE BEND, HOME OF BELINDA BEAL.
Belinda remembered the Belinda Beal day in Brookside Bend, wow, over a decade ago. She had her first number-one hit and the town responded by giving her the key to the city and erecting the revised welcome sign. She had blond hair and didn’t resemble in the slightest the fresh-faced young girl who’d left for Nashville in hopes of a classic country singing career. Dreams of the Grand Ole Opry were dashed. But she kept a bright smile in place the entire day, feeling silly when friends were asking for her autograph.
“Well, I’m back,” Belinda said under her breath.
A few minutes later she pulled into the big parking lot in front of . . . “Oh my goodness.” She looked up at the gigantic sign: BELINDA BEAL THEATER. Squeezing the steering wheel hard, she shook her head. Is this really happening? She got out of the SUV and felt compelled to take a picture. She really wanted to send it to Oliver but refrained, just barely.
She knew it was only one day, but how long would it take for him not to be the first person she wanted to turn to? To share a laugh with? She looked up at the sky and was about to shout a word she still didn’t say around her parents when one of the large double doors opened and her mother came running down the steps so fast that Belinda’s heart nearly stopped.
“Belinda! Oh, my girl is finally here!” she shouted to the sky. A little-bitty thing with a Dolly Parton figure and big hair, her mother slammed into Belinda, nearly knocking both of them to the ground. “I can’t believe you’re here!” Betty Beal, like Belinda, often spoke louder than necessary. She squeezed her daughter while rocking back and forth.
“Too hard, Mom. Way too hard. My head might pop off.”
“I can’t help myself!”
Belinda laughed. “Where’s Dad?”
“Inside. He was gettin’ on my last nerve and so I decided to come outside for some fresh air and there you were!”
“Didn’t he tell you I called?”
Her mother responded by narrowing her eyes. “That man . . . Oh well, great timing, huh?” She pointed up to the sign. “What do you think?”
“It’s big.”
“Your daddy wanted people to see the sign for miles.”
“Uh, I think he managed very well.”
“He wanted your face up there, but that kind of weirded me out so I said no way.”
“Did he argue?”
“Of course. But arguing with me doesn’t do him a bit of good,” she said, and chuckled. She took Belinda’s hand. “Come on inside.” She tugged her forward.
“Mom, not so fast. I’m stiff from drivin’.”
“Sorry, I still move about a hundred miles an hour and your daddy is gettin’ slow as a doggone turtle. Bad knees.”
“From all that farm work.”
“Yeah, but except for a few aches and pains, it kept us both in shape. But this project? Shew. I declare.”
“Mom,” Belinda said, stopping on the wide front porch. “Did you do this for me? I mean, it’s so much money.”
“Money that we didn’t know we had, so who cares?” Betty put her hands upon Belinda’s shoulders and squeezed. “This is an adventure. And even though your father and I bicker over the details, this has mostly been a blast. But yes, I’ll admit, part of the decision was hoping to bring you back to Brookside Bend. Nashville was still too far away in my opinion. Getting to see you for holidays and family events just isn’t enough in my book.”
“I would have come home more often, but gigs in Nashville are hard to get because of the competition,” Belinda said, and that was true. But she also kept her distance because it was hard being around family and in a town that praised her so much when she felt like a failure.
“I understand.” Betty tilted her head to the side, but her hair stayed in place. “But when you said you were going back to pop music?” She shook her head and wagged a finger. “We wanted you to have control over what you sing. And not to give anyone the power to tell you what to wear, how much to weigh, or what your daggone hair color should be. Why were you doin’ that anyway? Goin’ back to that mess?”
“I thought you needed the money.”
“Well, we don’t.” She put her hand to the side of her mouth. “Unless this whole thing flops.”
“Don’t even say that,” Belinda said.
“Oh, I’m not too worried. We’re getting support from everyone in Brookside Bend. Opening night on October 1st is already sold out.”
“Who is the headliner?”
“Why, you, silly girl.” She grabbed her hand to continue walking, but Belinda pulled up short.
“Mom, I don’t have a show planned. Songs. Choreography.” Belinda shook her head, feeling the onset of a panic attack. “And Dad said something about a Hee Haw thing.”
“Pfft. Your father has Stone Gap Band back together. The jam sessions have been just wonderful. Belinda, this is about you, the music, and havin’ some fun. You could jump in and sing with them right now and bring down the house without a lick of practice. They even learned your big hits. I know people are going to want to hear that too.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely. You don’t have a thing to worry about where that’s concerned. And we’ll have such fun with your wardrobe! And did your daddy tell you about the food trucks? We have such a big parking lot that it will be perfect. I’m thinking about setting up some picnic tables over in the grass. Maybe put in a courtyard for spring and summer. Belinda, my brain just won’t stop coming up with ideas.” She rolled her eyes. “But your father won’t ever let it go that his barns and the junk in them were worth a fortune. Who knew that old barn wood was worth that kind of money? And he bought a lot of the junk—though technically I can’t call it junk anymore—with the money from when you first launched your career. So you have a stake in this too.”
“Holy smokes.” Belinda grinned. “I was wondering when you would ever come up for air.”
“I’m just so excited. Can you blame me?”
“Nope.” Belinda shook her head. “Not at all.”
“Feels like Christmas, huh? And speaking of, I am going to have this place decked out to the nines for the holidays. There won’t be a square inch not screaming Christmas cheer. You know how I am about Christmas.”
Belinda laughed and allowed herself to be tugged forward. “Concession stands over there,” her mother continued. “We just got our liquor license. You would have thought we were applying for top security clearance with the FBI with all the questions they asked. And the rules. Don’t even get me started.”
When they entered the main auditorium, Belinda stopped and put a hand to her chest. “Mom! This is just gorgeous!”
“We’ve done some work,” she said proudly. “You know your father. Still does a lot of bartering or we couldn’t have made it this pretty. We had the floors stripped and redone. And I wanted a dance floor just below the stage. We lowered it so it’s not so much of a concert atmosphere but like the old barn dances. You’re closer to the entertainment.”
“Excellent idea.”
“If you turn around you’ll notice that that there are three sections, each a little bit higher to give everyone a nice view of the stage if they want to watch the dancers. Nothing is set in stone yet, but we want the variety shows one of the weekends. Maybe a local talent open mic night midweek. And your father wants a stand-up comedy night, and those same people will be part of the weekend shows. It’ll take time and evolve along the way.”
“You two are blowing me away. Where is Dad, anyway?”
“Who knows? Let’s go find him.”
They located Jack Beal tinkering with the stage lighting.
“Look who’s here!” Betty said in a singsong voice.
“Belinda!” His big voice wrapped around Belinda and the pure joy written on his face nearly made her cry.
“Dad!” Belinda said, and fell into his arms.
“Ah baby girl,” he said, and she could hear the tears in his voice.
“Don’t you dare cry or I’ll lose it too,” Belinda warned.
“I’ll try. I’m getting emotional in my old age.” Nodding, he pulled back and looked at her. “You look good.”
“Thanks! So do you! Mom still looks like a southern belle and you’re as handsome as ever. You look even better than when I saw you last Christmas.”
“Oh, go on with you.”
“I’m dead serious,” Belinda said.
“So, what do you think of this place?”
“I’m astounded.”
“Your mother and I have been working around the clock for the past six months. There are so many details.” He shoved his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. “And I thought farming was hard.”
Belinda laughed. “You both work hard no matter what you do.”
“We don’t know any other way,” he said, and smiled at Betty. They might bicker, but it was all good-natured. Belinda knew that they loved each other deeply. “Hey, tomorrow Stone Gap Band will be here jamming. We’d like for you to join us if that’s possible.”
“Don’t see why not.”
“Wonderful! I can’t wait to hear your beautiful voice again.”
“Aw, thank you, Dad.” It’d been a while since Belinda had thought of her voice as beautiful. A lot of the patrons in Nashville didn’t recognize her from her pop music days so she enjoyed some anonymity. But singing in bars meant lots of background noise. It had been a very long time since she’d performed in a concert venue where the focus was just on her and the music. And this would really strip her down. No fancy dance moves, smoke billowing from the stage, or laser lights. Once, they had her drop down to the stage in a gilded cage, which scared the bejesus out of her.
Her father pulled her in for another bear hug. “I just can’t believe you’re here. Can you believe it, Betty?”
Belinda turned around to see her mother dabbing at the corners of her eyes. “I’m gettin’ there. But I keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.”
“Can I help?” Belinda asked while watching her mother dredge the cubed steaks in the buttermilk mixture and then in seasoned flour. The seasoning was her mother’s own recipe.
“Just sit back and relax. I’ve got some homemade blackberry wine and sweet tea.” She nodded toward the fridge. “Help yourself.”
“I know you’ve already got a lot on your plate, but you might want to consider selling some of your homemade stuff in a shop at the theater.”
“I’ve already thought of that.”
“I should have known!”
Betty shrugged. “Not just my stuff. I want to have local crafters get the opportunity to sell things. I don’t have the details ironed out yet. I’m thinking of hiring someone to do that for me. I’m already wearing too many hats.”
“Awesome, Mom. This is going to give Brookside Bend a shot in the arm.”
“And it needs it. Sadly, small farms are becoming a thing of the past.” She shook her head. “But I will say that the new organic craze has helped.”
“Oh, I know. Restaurants are popping up all over, using farm to table as a selling point. Jeez, Mom, you and Dad are on top of things.”
She chuckled. “It’s called survival.”
“What time do you think Dad will get home?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. He’s been working over there nonstop, but he’s lovin’ it. I’ll warm up his supper if he’s real late.”
Belinda opted for the tea, knowing the wine would knock her right out after the drive. And she’d hardly slept the night before. She sat down on a tall stool at the kitchen island where her mother worked almost as fast as the people in those instructional food videos on Facebook. “How in the world do you get everything ready at the same time?”
Betty laughed. “Years of practice. Course I always thought I’d have a big family to cook for,” she said with a tinge of sadness. “I always had trouble making small portions when there were just the three of us. But maybe someday . . .” Betty raised her eyebrows.
“Mom,” Belinda said, knowing she was referring to a grandbaby, and for some reason she thought of Oliver.
“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean to make you frown. But now that you’re back here maybe you might find some nice boy to settle down with.”
To her horror, Belinda started to tear up. She’d already found her nice boy. The nicest boy ever.
“Belinda? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Dusting the flour from her hands, she hurried over and gave Belinda a hug. “Is something on your mind?” She took a step back and studied Belinda’s face. “Are you having second thoughts? I didn’t think you were all that happy in Nashville.”
“I wasn’t.” She paused to take a sip of her tea. “I loved the atmosphere, but singing for tips was getting old.”
“Then tell me what’s causing that sadness in your pretty eyes.”
Belinda sighed. The homey kitchen, the scent of dinner cooking enhanced her emotions and the ache in her throat increased. “I was in Florida for the past three weeks,” she said hoarsely.
“Florida?” Her mother took a step back and angled her head. “You said you were traveling for business. Or was it vacation?”
“No,” Belinda said slowly. “I was staying in the guest house of Oliver Heart.”
Betty’s eyebrows shot up. “That boy-band cutie you were sweet on back in your teens? You were so cute together. Goodness! Are you seeing him? Is that why you’re so forlorn? You want to be with him and we’ve all but forced you to come back here, haven’t we?” Betty put her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, honey. I wanted to tell you sooner, but your father wanted to have our ducks in a row and for this to be a big surprise.”
Belinda let out a chuckle. “Uh, surprise is a huge understatement.”
“And now we’ve meddled in your life.” She wrung her hands.
“No, Mom, hold your horses,” Belinda said, but was amazed at how close to the truth her mother had hit. Like, nearly bull’s-eye. She took a swig of tea. “I was staying with Oliver at the request of his manager and publicist, who were also going to help me launch my comeback. We were going to stage a romance to get some publicity just like when we were teenagers. I was going to get back into pop music, and Oliver wants to go solo.”
“Oh . . .” Betty drew out the word, frowning. “So your teenage romance was all for show too? Well, that sucks.”
Belinda nodded. “I never wanted you to know that.”
“No, wait.” Betty shook her head. “I’m not buying it.”
“Well, everybody did, that’s for sure.”
“Not everybody is your mother. You were sweet on him back then. I could tell when we talked on the phone.”
Belinda shrugged. “We were kids. And I wasn’t supposed to let anyone think differently. I hated letting you believe otherwise.”
“But you’re adults now. And you have real feelings for Oliver. Don’t deny it. You always did wear your heart on your sleeve. And you can’t fool your mama.” Betty wagged a finger at her.
“Okay, yes, I fell for him.”
“Oh, honey.”
“But he’s going after a solo career. Mom, you know how that goes. Travel, concerts. So where would that leave me?”
“Go with him.”
“I’d be miserable.”
“Sing with him, then.”
“Mom, he sings pop music. You remember Heartbeat.”
She clasped her hands together. “You could be a duo, like Sonny and Cher.” Betty did the famous Cher hair flip.
Belinda laughed.
Betty snapped her fingers. “Or like Donny and Marie. You’re a little bit country and he’s a little bit rock and roll!”
“Oh wow.” Belinda laughed harder. “Now I know where I get my crazy sense of humor.”
“I’m being serious.”
Belinda’s smile faltered, and for a wild moment her mother’s suggestion made sense. “You could be on to something, but I really don’t want to go back on the road. I adore singing and performing for an audience, making them happy. Honestly, the old barn dances are still my favorite memories of singing. It was exciting to have hit records and fans and all that hoopla, but just sitting here in this kitchen makes me realize how glad I am to be home. Waking up in a lonely hotel, not remembering what city I am in, isn’t something I want to return to.”
“And yet you were going to do it for your father and me.”
“Without hesitation.”
Betty closed her eyes and sighed. “You don’t know how many times I regretted allowing you to go to Nashville when you were so young.”
“I begged for it, Mom. And you and Dad risked a lot to give me the opportunity to chase my dream. I was the one who messed up by not standing up for myself sooner.”
“You were so young. And I’m glad to have you back where you belong.”
“There wasn’t one single day I felt at home in LA, that’s for sure.”
“Somebody should have stood up for you. We thought you were in such good hands with Gayle Porter and Wayward Records and you seemed to want it that way. Belinda, we did try to influence you, but you were so determined. And then that damned producer got into your head. Looking back . . .”
“There’s no need to look back. Mom, Gayle kept me in line for the most part. I did my schoolwork and stayed away from partying. And I didn’t want to take you or Dad away from the farm.” She patted her chest. “I was headstrong and you were right, determined. Oh boy, I thought I knew everything back then, but I was clueless about so much. But look, at this point in my life I consider it part of my journey. Even if I’d stuck with country music, I would have had to travel. I miss the comfort of being home,” she said, her voice cracking. “And I missed you and Dad. Oliver lost his parents, and he made me realize that every day I have with you is precious,” she said, and they both burst into tears.
Belinda slid from the stool and hugged her mother. She loved how she smelled, a mixture of hair spray and home. And she missed the comfort, the love. “I love you, Mom.” She pulled back and looked at her. “I truly want to be here.”
“But what about Oliver?”
Belinda shrugged and held back more tears. “Part of the journey. I don’t regret time spent with him. I realize now what he taught me. Family is more important than anything. And now I know what love feels like.”
“He sounds like such a good man.”
“He is. I knew our lives were meant to cross again. And, Mom, this had to be a clean break or I couldn’t have done it.”
“Then he’s hurting as bad as you are.”
“I guess so,” Belinda said sadly.
“Well, then you need to find a way to make it work,” Betty said firmly.
“There’s no way. Plain and simple.”
“Never say never. And you don’t know what the future will bring.”
Belinda lifted one shoulder but couldn’t allow even a sliver of hope to creep into her heart.
“I would tell you that if you’re meant to be together, it will happen. But I don’t believe that. Sometimes, if you want something, you have to make it happen.”
Belinda nodded her agreement, but she didn’t see any way possible for her and Oliver to have a future together.
“But for now, I’m going to make your supper happen,” Betty said, and went back to the cubed steaks.
“I can’t wait.” Belinda watched her mother move with practiced efficiency, talking up a storm while cooking. By the time everything was bubbling on the stove, along with cornbread in the oven, Belinda was brought up to speed about everything and everyone who lived in Brookside Bend.
But while Belinda listened with one ear, her thoughts drifted to Oliver, what he was doing and thinking. It might be a long while before he was out of her head. Or maybe, never.