CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LONELY DAYS
Belinda carried a glass of chardonnay out to the large back deck of the A-frame cabin she’d recently rented and sat down in one of the roomy rocking chairs. Later she’d toss a steak onto the grill, hoping to arouse her lost appetite. Not even her mother’s home cooking could entice her into finishing a complete meal.
Instead of missing Oliver less, with each passing day, she longed for him more, a constant ache for which there was no cure . . . well, except for him. She’d nearly called Oliver on several occasions, and she couldn’t even count how many times she’d visited his Facebook page, Twitter, and Instagram accounts. While Belinda knew that she should cut herself off from stalking him on social media, she couldn’t help herself.
She rocked slowly in the chair, sipping her wine. Would this sadness ever recede, or would it keep coming at her like waves crashing to the shore? She feared she walked around with resting bitch face! But smiling was damned difficult when she felt so crappy. And after being so blissfully happy with Oliver, she felt as if she was suffering from emotional whiplash, and her brain couldn’t handle it.
Belinda tried to hide her pain from her parents, but the only way she managed to pull it off was to stay incredibly busy, thankfully not too difficult since they had a billion things to get done before the opening of the theater. Belinda had argued that her salary was too much, but her father insisted she’d earn every penny. And it did feel good to have money in a checking account that had been gasping for air.
Finding the cabin had been a godsend. While her mother meant well by hovering over her at the house, Belinda needed some privacy to lick her wounds, and the cabin’s location was just minutes from the theater. Nestled in the woods, the A-frame overlooked the gorgeous Smoky Mountains. Belinda inhaled deeply. She’d forgotten how much she adored the pungent scent of pine and damp earth. She leaned back in the rocking chair, listening to the sounds of nature. Although it was near dusk, birds happily chirped up a storm, and the warm, gentle breeze whistled through the trees. Belinda kept binoculars close by so she could watch for wildlife, thrilled when she located deer or wild turkey. And just last evening she’d spotted a black bear drinking from the brook.
Soon the thick vegetation would change with the upcoming autumn season, thinning out and then bursting with dazzling fall colors. She’d yet to use the hot tub, but when the nights started getting cooler, she knew the hot tub would be her favorite place to relax.
If she could ever learn to relax again.
A nearby bubbling brook rushed over large rocks, and the soothing sound lulled her to sleep at night, when she missed Oliver the most. Keeping busy during the day helped, but oh, the long, lonely nights had her longing to have Oliver by her side. Fighting back the urge to cry, Belinda took a sip of the crisp wine and then reached for her laptop. The response for talent, both musical and comedic, turned out to be overwhelming, so much so that she and her parents had divided up the applicants. Of course, some of the entries were an American Idol–level funny, bringing a dash of levity to the daunting task. But some of the talent blew her away, so she knew they were going to be able to fill the theater with awesome entertainment. As a matter of fact, her mother had texted her earlier that she’d just listened to someone who’d made his way into her top slot.
Belinda longed to take the night off and just chill, maybe try a soak in the hot tub after the sun went down. But there was no time for that. The search for talent, along with her rehearsals for opening night, were exhausting enough without throwing sleepless nights into the mix.
Blinking tired eyes, Belinda watched a few videos without much luck. She didn’t know what people didn’t understand about them wanting predominantly country and bluegrass. Perhaps her name on the theater threw them off . . . another worry that kept arising. Classic country lived in her heart, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she remained famous for her pop music days. While she planned to sing some of her hits, she was also playing around with putting a country spin on some of her old songs, but she wasn’t sure how the audience would respond.
Blowing out a sigh, she looked at her empty glass and pouted, too worn out to head inside for more wine. But she purposefully didn’t bring the entire bottle outside with her, not wanting the wine to go down too quickly. Adding a hangover to her busy day tomorrow would just be insanity. But the urge to drown her sorrows in wine remained. Ugh, but that could lead to something like drunk texting or, heaven forbid, a phone call to Oliver. This damned staying strong stuff really sucked, and she nearly succumbed to clicking on Oliver’s Facebook page.
Belinda leaned back and closed her eyes. She’d been through some tough times after losing her record label. And not having money hadn’t been easy. But nothing compared to falling in love and having to walk away from the man of her dreams. Nothing came close.
And it sucked because she should be enjoying opening the theater with her parents. She tried. Really tried. But every time her phone rang she secretly hoped it would be Oliver calling. And then a thought hit her and she opened her eyes and sat up straight so fast that the chair rocked wildly.
What if Oliver was already over her? She should want him to be, of course, because she wouldn’t wish this feeling on anyone, especially Oliver. She considered calling Julie and casually working Oliver into the conversation, but Julie might not like the fact that she had bailed after her parents dropped the Belinda Beal Theater bombshell on her.
Belinda lifted her empty wineglass and stared at it. “One more won’t hurt,” she said in a firm, convincing voice. Placing the laptop on the wooden end table, she headed back inside the cabin and made a beeline for the kitchen. After a generous pour, Belinda leaned against the granite kitchen counter and looked around the open floor plan and nodded her approval. A fieldstone fireplace was tucked into the corner so as not to obstruct the gorgeous view of the mountains. Deep brown leather furniture kept the rustic theme going, and the owner threw splashes of color here and there with deep red accent pieces. The scent of outdoor pine mixed with the leftover smoke of the fireplace convinced Belinda that she’d always want to live surrounded by nature. The mountains . . . the beach.
“Ah!” She looked up at the exposed beamed ceiling, wondering if her thoughts would at some point stop circling around until they landed upon Oliver.
Would her damned broken heart ever mend?
Belinda took a healthy sip of her wine, and then walked back to the fridge and located the steak. Even staring at the single steak in the package made her feel lonely. Belinda slapped it down onto the counter and then scrubbed a potato. She had a bag of tossed salad ready to consume along with her favorite dressing.
And her stomach responded with a little no-way lurch.
Well, at least she wasn’t eating her weight in ice cream every night. In fact, her jeans felt loose, thanks to the broken-heart diet that she wouldn’t recommend to anyone. She knew the lack of calories was contributing to her lethargy, and she didn’t know what the hell to do about it.
Eat, you silly goose! Belinda thought, and tore the plastic wrap off the beautifully marbled rib eye, her favorite cut of steak, purchased to make her hungry. Determined, she went outside for her laptop and turned on Pandora, hoping some upbeat music could lift her mood from way down in the dumps to just in the dumps. Humming to the music, she busied herself putting olive oil and sea salt on the potato before popping it into the oven. She rarely used the microwave. Her mother refused to even own one.
Being an only child, Belinda was used to her own company, but tonight in particular she longed for a friend, conversation.
Oliver . . .
Ugh! Why? She knew damned well that he’d ruined her for anyone else. Damn you, Oliver Heart, for being so perfect.
Thirty minutes and another glass of wine later, her meal was prepared and ready to eat. Sitting at the kitchen island, she picked at the Caesar salad and nibbled the baked potato. The steak, medium rare, was tender and cooled to perfection.
Belinda barely tasted any of it. To her credit, she powered through half the meal before stopping. Yawning, she decided to head into the bedroom, get into her jammies, and binge through more of the videos, praying that she might get a good night’s sleep.
Still, Belinda couldn’t resist going out onto the deck and looking up at stars glittering like diamonds in the night sky. The inky black cloak of darkness reminded her of nights on the farm, far from city lights.
She stood there holding on to the railing, listening to nature rustling in the woods. The hoot of an owl had her smiling. When she was a kid, her father would hoot back. He could imitate just about any critter. She was still blown away that her parents had taken on the huge task of opening the theater, but she was glad they’d found something they both believed in with such passion.
Growing up, Belinda took the love her parents shared for granted. Never again.
Belinda turned to go into the cabin when she heard laughter and music drifting her way. Although she couldn’t see any neighboring cabins, many were dotted along the road, weekend getaways and vacations rentals. She inhaled a shaky breath and was hit by an unexpected wave of sadness, wishing that Oliver would suddenly come walking through the door.
“Not gonna happen,” Belinda whispered into the night, and was suddenly in no hurry to return to her silent, empty bedroom.