CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Gracin and I fell back into our routine, but when the calendar turned from July to August, something shifted between us. Again. The guillotine inched closer to end us every day.
I spread out on his couch, resting my feet on his lap while he played his guitar. We only had two and a half weeks left together. Gracin played a melody and jotted down some chords on the paper hanging half off the arm of the couch. Quite frankly, as much as I loved listening to him sing and play, I was bored. There was so much I wanted to show him but not enough time to do it all. Plus, I wanted him to pay more attention to me than the six-strings preoccupying him.
“Gracin,” I half-whined. My toes pressed into the guitar, shoving it away from him.
“Let’s go do something. Head to the wax museum –”
“Later. I need to get this down.” He pulled the guitar closer to him, and tapped my feet until I moved them.
I sat up quickly. “I’m only going to be here for seventeen more days, and this is how you want to spend our day off? Glad to see I’m so important.”
“Carly –”
It was too late, I’d already moved toward the door and had my hand on the doorknob. The door was lighter than I remembered, or I was angrier than I thought, because I threw it open and it bounced back so fast it hit me in the ass. I let out a harrumph but kept going to my scooter. If he didn’t want to spend time with me, there were things I could do without him. Hit the zipline or find a bungee cord. I started the scooter and sat there. The engine hummed its little buzz.
But I didn’t drive away. I couldn’t.
When I glanced back at the cabin, Gracin leaned against the open door frame in nothing but his shorts. He crooked his finger at me. It was like a fishing hook reeling me toward him. I shut the engine off and stormed back toward the door, pushing past him and inside.
I didn’t get very far before he scooped me against him, pressing his bare chest into my back and trapping my arms to my sides.
“I’m sorry.” He kissed up my neck and nibbled on my ear. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking. In fact, your leaving is the one thing I don’t want to think about, Carly.”
“Because we have to …” The word stuck in my throat. I didn’t want to say it this time.
He nodded against my skin, but he didn’t say it either. “The wax museum sounds like fun.”
I swallowed back the lump and pressed against him. “We can take hundreds of stupid pictures we’ll have for the rest of our lives.”
“Then we should probably get cleaned up, don’t you think?” He stepped forward, pushing my legs in front of me as he moved us toward the bathroom. I let him, because I wanted as much of Gracin Ford as I could get for the next seventeen days.
∞ ∞ ∞
It wasn’t hard to get people to take our photos at the wax museum or on the Duck tour. Gracin had never ridden in the vehicular boats, and when the duck moved toward the lake, he grabbed my arm and bounced in his seat like the five-year-old in front of us. It was endearing, and heartbreaking. I loved that I was the one experiencing this with him, but it hurt too. I tried to shake it off and hide it as the day progressed, focusing on the fun we were having instead. If Gracin noticed, he didn’t let on. If he felt the same, he didn’t let it show either.
Maybe we should’ve been actors.
The sunset was magnificent, as usual, and I rested my head on his shoulder as we watched it.
“Aren’t you supposed to wish on a sunset?” Gracin asked.
I sat up and stared at him. “What? I’ve never heard of that before.”
“So?” He shrugged one shoulder and glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Maybe it’ll be our thing. Every time you see the sunset, you think of us and make a wish.”
I put my head back on his shoulder, contemplating his idea. It wasn’t a bad one really. It would be something for just us. “Can I tell you my wish?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“I wish this summer wouldn’t end.” A lone tear slipped free, and I let it fall.
Gracin didn’t comment. He kissed my hair and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I wanted him to agree, but that was too much to ask. Gracin made his feelings clear before we got too involved. Just because I’d fallen in love with him didn’t change anything. After this perfect day, we’d only have sixteen left. Then fifteen. Fourteen. The countdown would continue until I drove off toward Nashville, leaving Gracin and Branson a memory in my rearview mirror. A few weeks after my departure, Gracin would make his own.
We’d only be memories to one another.
∞ ∞ ∞
Dad’s presence at the theater increased as Luke prepared to return to school in Chicago. Everything ran smoother with Dad around. For one, Luke liked to negotiate too much whereas Dad’s stance was more “do it or I’ll find someone who will.” I preferred my father’s approach to theater management.
The only issue I had was personal. Sneaking around with Gracin was harder with Dad constantly taking my boyfriend away to talk about one thing or another. It seemed like every single day Dad would call Gracin into his office, and they’d be in there for hours.
After a week of this, I finally asked Gracin what was going on.
“What do you mean?” He tugged his hair up, gliding gel through his tresses so they appeared perfectly messy. Kinda like bedhead, but not nearly as sexy as his real bedhead.
“I hardly see you when we’re here anymore. It’s like the principal keeps calling you to his office.” I tossed the day planner I’d used all summer to keep Gracin’s appointments organized onto the loveseat in the corner. It bounced off the soft cushion before falling to the floor. I plopped on the seat in full pout mode. “If he had a problem, he should’ve said something back in June.”
Gracin picked up the day planner and sat beside me. “His daughter was coming home every night back in June.”
My face must’ve looked like a bruised apple. Over the last few weeks, I spent less time at home and more time at Gracin’s. Sometimes I didn’t even bother coming home. Dad never said a word, and I never lied about it. I omitted details, but I never said I was staying at Nena’s or Ivy’s. I would simply say I wasn’t coming home. It didn’t take an Ivy-league education to figure out where I was.
“Please tell me you’re kidding.” My fingers curled into my palms, the stubby nails managing minor damage to my skin.
“Yeah, I’m kidding.” Gracin draped his arm around my shoulders. “He just wants to make sure I’ve been happy here.”
“Oh,” I sighed, relief washing over me. Dad was being the owner, not my father, in his conversations with Gracin. Understandable. He didn’t want to get a bad reputation among bigger name performers. Gracin’s run had brought in mega-revenue, and he needed that to become the norm or he’d have to sell eventually. Then another thought hit me, and I had to ask him. “Have you? Been happy here?”
Gracin pulled me against him and kissed my hair. It was his standard move when he didn’t want to answer a question. I let myself believe he meant this in a positive way, but I still needed an answer.
“Well?”
“You know I have, Carly.”
His words rolled through me, and I felt the heaviness in them. Thirteen days and that weight would sink me to the bottom of Table Rock Lake.
The show flew by, and I waited in my usual spot for Gracin to come offstage. He’d just started his first encore when someone tapped my shoulder. I glanced back to where my father stood behind me, his eyes focused on the performance.
“Have you noticed how much he’s changed?” Dad nodded toward Gracin’s dancing form. I followed his gaze toward Gracin before he disappeared out of our view.
I shrugged, not sure what he was getting at.
“When he first got here, he was angry.” Dad’s hand fell heavy on my shoulder. “Honestly, I worried about you working with him, but it was good for him.” He squeezed my shoulder, and I glanced back at him again. “And for you.”
Turning on the balls of my feet, I wrapped my arms around Dad and hugged him for the first time in years. Oh, there’d been casual congratulatory hugs here and there, but it had been too long since I hugged him just to hug him. He reciprocated, holding me like I was still his little girl, when we both knew that wasn’t the case anymore.
“You’ve been through so much, Carly. A lesser person would’ve wilted, but not you.” He pushed me back but held my shoulders as he stared down at me. “I wish I could’ve been there for you more.” A tear glistened on his lashes. “I wish …”
My father had never cried in my life. And, now, I’d seen him do it twice in the span of a summer. Even when his parents had passed away, Dad had been drier than the Sahara. The unprecedented nature of this entire scene made the world shift under my feet. I hugged him again, grateful he was my father and not somebody else’s. Yeah, we’d had a rough time over the last few years, but that was the past and we had a future to discuss.
“Dad, I …” I pulled away from him, wiping my own tears from my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I finally let him in. “I want the theater.”
The song ended on the stage, and Gracin ran toward us. I held out the water bottle without taking my eyes off my father.
“What’s –” Gracin began, but I cut him off with my finger. He snatched the full bottle and gave it back to me three loud gulps later completely empty.
The music started again, and Gracin greeted the audience for his final encore.
Dad decided to open his mouth. “The theater?”
“Yes.” I closed my eyes, pressing them down to remind myself this conversation was real and not the one I’d been practicing for the last month. “I love this place, Dad. And Luke’s going to take over the resort one day, but he sucks at managing the theater. You’ve spent most of your time running between here and the resort all summer as it is. Imagine if Luke tried. Things would fall through the cracks –”
“You don’t know—”
“Yes, I do.” I tugged at my hair, trying to not get frustrated and failing miserably. “And you do, too. Luke doesn’t even want to be here. And I … I don’t want to leave.” Desperate for him to understand, I pleaded with my eyes. How could he not see how much I wanted the theater? “This is where I belong, Dad. This theater is what I love, what I want to do.”
“You’re serious?” He crossed his arms, lifting his right hand to his chin to tap it.
“U of N has a theater program. And I’ll double major, theater and business.” I sighed and softened my tone. “I can do this. If you’ll just let me have a chance.”
Dad straightened his back, turning into the businessman I knew so well. This stance meant logic and a plan. I liked a good plan. “Okay. But you’ll spend your summers working here, and you’ll have to work your way up from the bottom. Just like your brother will at the resort. Once you graduate, we’ll determine the best course of action. It may be better for you to go to New York or L.A. to work at a few venues before coming back home. You have two years to decide if this is really what you want. If you realize the theater isn’t going to make you happy, you drop the theater major and stick with business. Okay?”
“Okay.” For some reason, I hadn’t expected this to go in my direction. Well, not for some reason, but for the Luke reason. My brother had been groomed since birth to take over the family businesses. I was not. Neither was Miranda. How would he feel when he learned about this deal with Dad?
The second encore ended. Gracin stopped beside us, half out of breath, and stared at me expectantly. During my conversation with my father, I’d totally forgotten to grab a bottle out of the cooler for Gracin. I smiled at him, barely able to contain my excitement. Gracin smiled back, but there was a question in there. One I couldn’t wait to answer.
Dad clasped Gracin on the shoulder and congratulated him on another great show before disappearing in the mass of people crowding backstage. We made our way toward the small cluster of fans so Gracin could sign autographs and have photos taken. My patience was tested. I wanted to tell Gracin about my deal with Dad. When I’d first told Gracin about my desire to take over this part of the family business, he’d told me to let Dad in on the idea. Never did he pester me into talking to my father, but he always encouraged me to be honest about what I wanted.
Standing behind him as he smiled and signed his illegible scrawl on paper and, sadly, even some forty-year-old woman’s breasts, I had an epiphany. One that wasn’t necessarily of the woohoo variety.
As soon as the door closed to his dressing room, he turned on me. “What was going on with your father?”
I stepped back, shocked by the hardened tone in his voice. Regaining my composure like a seasoned pro, which I was, I attacked back. “Why? Think it had something to do with you?”
Gracin pinched his nose, slowly exhaling. He dropped his hand and stared at me, exhaustion creeping through his body. “No. I’m sorry. That’s not how I meant to ask. I just … Is everything okay?”
I dropped the defenses. “I told him I want the theater.”
Gracin’s head shot up. “Are you serious?”
The smile spread faster as I nodded.
“That’s great.” He closed the short distance between us and wrapped me in his arms. Once he pulled back, his eyebrows furrowed. “Wait. What did he say?”
“I have two years to decide if this is really what I want. If it is, he may even send me to New York or L.A. or somewhere to study before I come home. Then I’ll have to work my way up from the bottom. So, basically, he’s onboard with the idea.”
“That’s great, Carly.” He kissed my forehead and repeated his words.
I inhaled his sweating stench and forced out my epiphany. “Can I ask you a question? Have you ever told your father what you want?”
Gracin stiffened.
I pushed onward even though my heart said stop. My brain had taken over. Stupid brain. “I know you don’t want to perform the songs you do, Gracin. Don’t tell me otherwise. If you really liked that music, you’d write it.” I let my arms fall away from him and stepped back. “And I know why you do it, too. I know you love the stage. And the people love you on the stage. I just …” I took another deep breath, wishing his expression would change from cold anger to something less, well, cold and angry. “The music you write is the real you. And it’s incredible. People should get a chance to hear those songs. Who you are up there now is good, but who you really are is amazing. And … I just want you to be happy.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. He wouldn’t even look at me, but I didn’t move. I wasn’t giving up so easily. The anger I waited for didn’t come. Instead, Gracin’s face softened and the exhaustion I’d seen earlier weighed heavier on his entire being. He didn’t look like an eighteen-year-old pop star; he looked like an over-the-hill singer who just needed to rest. We didn’t talk while we finished up for the night. We didn’t talk on the way to his cabin. We didn’t talk as I settled the place for the night, making sure Gracin was in bed before I left.
As I headed toward the door, Gracin’s voice drifted across the room. He said only one word, but it was the word I needed to hear.
“Stay.”