Chapter Twenty-Four
* * *
GEMMA SAT NEXT to Charlie’s hospital bed, wiping at her tears and watching her baby sleep soundly. When the doctor had asked Charlie why he’d climbed out of the window, he hadn’t answered, but Gemma had had a feeling it was to get away from her. They’d been lucky he’d only fallen from the bottom branch of the tree and not from his window or it could have been worse than a broken arm and a mild concussion. The doctors had given him a sedative and wanted to watch him overnight, but they’d assured her that he was going to be okay.
“Gemma?” Gracie called from the doorway.
Gemma looked away from Charlie and asked, “Is Travis here?”
Gracie shook her head. “No. He hasn’t called back yet, but your mom’s on her way. Someone else is here, though.”
Gemma waited as Gracie waved whoever it was forward, and Mike came through the door with a wrapped gift in his hands, looking like he hadn’t slept.
“You look terrible,” Gemma said, only half joking.
Mike smiled a little as he came inside. “Yeah, drank a little too much last night.”
Gemma bit back a retort. It wasn’t her place to scold him, and she definitely shouldn’t be casting any stones at stupidity.
Silence stretched between them, and Mike cleared his throat. “How is he?”
“He’s okay. Going to have his arm in a cast for six weeks and a headache for a couple days, but he’ll make it,” she said, twisting her hands in front of her as she added, “I’m glad you came.”
Nodding toward Charlie, he said, “I couldn’t not come. I’ve been in his life since the day he was born. Just because we aren’t on the best of terms doesn’t mean I don’t love the hell out of Charlie.”
So many things went through her brain, but not one thought would form into words.
“Anyway, I brought him that new Wii game he’s been begging for, if you can make sure he gets it,” Mike said, setting the shiny package on the counter. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he added, “Look, Gemma, I’m sorry I was such a dick about the whole Travis thing. It’s none of my business what happens in your love life. I was just hurt and . . .”
Gemma couldn’t let him take all the blame. “You were right; I should have told you about what happened in Vegas. I took you for granted, and for that I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to use you, I was just afraid of losing you.” Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze and said, “We were friends before . . . do you think we could get back there?”
“I don’t know, Gemma. Maybe someday, but I think it’s going to take time and space. At least for right now.”
Reaching out, Gemma took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Mike. For being my friend and for . . . for loving me. I can’t imagine it was easy, considering how messed up I am.”
Mike squeezed back. “Actually, you’re kinda easy to love, Gemma. It’s living without your love that’s hard.”
“Would it be too much to ask for a hug?” she asked, her voice choked with tears.
Without another word, he pulled her against him and just held her, like he’d done a hundred times before, and Gemma felt guilty, because deep down she wished it was Travis holding her instead.
TRAVIS TURNED ON his phone outside of Sacramento, intending to use it to find a decent hotel, but the minute everything loaded, it started beeping. Six . . . seven . . . eight . . . ten messages.
“Christ, Gemma,” he said, pressing the voice-mail button.
“Travis, please call me back. Charlie tried to climb out of his upstairs window and fell. We’re on our way to the hospital . . .”
Hospital. It was like someone had slammed into him with a cement truck; the pain was so immediate that he couldn’t catch his breath. Charlie had fallen out of a two-story window and Gemma had tried to call him, but he’d been such a stubborn bastard he’d turned off his phone.
Travis hung up and dialed her cell. One ring. Two rings.
“Come on. Come on. Come on!” he yelled.
“Hello?”
“Gemma?” Travis asked, knowing the voice wasn’t right.
“No, it’s Gracie,” she said, her voice chilly.
“Can you put her on? I want to know how Charlie is,” Travis said, trying to be patient.
“Gee, really? Twelve hours later and you’re worried about Charlie?” Gracie snapped.
Travis was getting tired of her attitude. “I had my phone off. Will you get her, or tell me how he is?”
“He’s got a broken arm and a mild concussion. They’re holding him overnight, but he should be okay.” Gracie’s tone said she’d hated giving in.
Travis breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he said, hesitating before he asked, “And Gemma? Is she okay?”
“Like you care.”
Travis lost his temper. “You know what, Gracie? You don’t know what in the f*ck you’re talking about, so why don’t you put Gemma on the phone?”
“Can’t, sorry. She’s busy making up with Michael. You know him, the guy who actually cares about her, unlike some selfish, immature a*shole singer who thinks his shit don’t stink? And by the way, your last album sucked balls!” With that little dig, she hung up.
Grief and remorse overwhelmed Travis as he pulled the truck over and pounded his fist on the dash, yelling at the top of his lungs. Again, he hadn’t been there for his son. Only this time, it was his fault. Had he not lost his temper and taken off, had he just gotten a hotel room or gone to Buck’s for a beer, he would be there. Instead, another man was comforting his wife, and would be there when his son woke up.
He couldn’t lay all the blame on Gemma, although he wanted to. If she hadn’t panicked, if she hadn’t acted like a wimp, he wouldn’t have left.
They had both acted like stupid teenagers, all over again.
Getting his emotions under control, he called George. “George, when does your flight get into Sacramento? We need to talk.”
WHEN HER MOTHER arrived, Gemma had sat her down and explained everything, from her impromptu marriage to the last fight before Charlie’s accident. Her mother had been quiet, offering not one opinion, and Gemma had almost wished she’d berate her instead of patting her hand with sympathy. She didn’t deserve it.
“Why don’t you go get some coffee, or maybe take a nap, honey?” her mother suggested. “You look worn out.”
Gemma took her up on the offer and left the hospital room, heading toward the cafeteria. She was just getting ready to get a cup of coffee when Gracie caught up to her.
“Captain Douche Bag finally called.”
Gemma stopped pumping coffee into her cup and swung around. “Travis? Travis called?”
“Yeah, and I told him what a dick he was for ditching you and not answering any of your calls—”
Gemma turned her back on her and continued filling her cup, but Gracie must have seen something on her face because she asked, “What? What did I say?”
Taking a deep, bracing breath, Gemma said, “Travis left because I told him to.”
“What do you mean? Why would you do that?” Gracie cried.
Because I’m an idiot. “Because he knew that someone had leaked my name to the tabloids and he didn’t warn me. When I woke up this morning, there were hordes of reporters on the front lawn and I flipped out. I told him it was his fault and I wanted him to give us space.”
“That’s not a good enough reason to kick him out of town.”
“I didn’t tell him to leave town. He did that all on his own,” Gemma said, stirring in half-and-half as she added, “I also might have told him I didn’t love him.”
“You did what?” Gracie shrieked, and a nurse down the way shushed her. Whirling around, Gracie snapped, “Oh, bite me. This isn’t a library.”
“Gracie!” Gemma grabbed her arm and sent the nurse an apologetic look.
“What? She needs to mind her own business. Damn it, Gemma, I was a superbitch to Travis, and now you’re telling me I had no reason to be?” Gracie hissed.
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Gemma said, stirring another sugar into her coffee.
“Yeah, but it’s the best-friend gig. Someone hurts you, they swim with the fishes,” Gracie said, not noticing that several people turned around to look at her funny.
Gemma shook her head. “God, I made a mess of things again.”
“Yeah, no argument from this corner, sweet cheeks. It wasn’t Travis’s fault that someone leaked the story, no matter that he didn’t tell you about the whole situation. He thought he’d handled it. He was trying to protect you. Those are good things,” Gracie said, grimacing as she took a sip of Gemma’s coffee. “Oh, that is vile. Seriously, it’s like they brewed it in a Porta-Potty.”
Gemma snorted. “It’s not that bad.”
“Says you. I happen to be a professional, and I will give you my expert opinion that this . . . is . . . shit.” She tossed the cup into the trash as they passed.
“What am I going to do, Gracie?” Gemma asked.
“Beg. Barter. Offer unlimited sexual favors?”
“Seriously, have you no sympathy?” Gemma said in frustration.
Gracie stopped her with a hand on her arm. “How’s this? You’re my best friend. I have watched you conquer single momhood and I have supported you all the way, even when I thought you were making a mistake by not telling Travis. I have watched you sit at home like a dateless wonder most weekends and shaken my head, but I have said nothing. Well, nothing much,” she amended when Gemma raised an eyebrow.
“I have seen you pass up and overlook one of the best guys in the world, even though I platonically love him as much as I do you and knew it was breaking his heart. Do you know why I’ve been the epitome of love and support, even when I thought you were batshit crazy?” Gracie asked, her green eyes serious.
“Why?” Gemma asked.
“Because any fool could see that you never stopped loving Travis. Honestly, if I were going to believe in that soul-mate, meant-to-be, there-will-never-be-another, perfect-someone kind of love, it would be with you guys. This is where I draw the line, though. So help me God, if you don’t figure out some way to grow up and work out your issues of inferiority I’m going to demote you to random chick I used to know.”
Despite the tears in her eyes, Gemma’s mouth twitched in amusement. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Hell yeah I would, ’cause I can only tolerate so much stupid,” Gracie said.
“And what makes you such an expert on relationships?”
Gracie tapped the side of her head. “Those that can’t do, teach, young grasshopper.”
“You are crazy.”
“Crazy brilliant.”
“Okay, relationship master, what should I do?” Gemma asked as they neared Charlie’s room.
Gracie stopped and put her hands on her narrow hips. “Seriously, how many eighties movies have we watched? Grand gesture, woman. No one can resist a gesture of grandness.”
Shaking her head, Gemma peeked in to see her mother sitting next to Charlie, snoring. Charlie’s eyes were still closed, and Gemma frowned. “I hope it’s normal for him to sleep this long. He’s been out for hours.”
“Are you kidding me? The kid broke his arm, not to mention the head bump and other bruises. I’d sleep for a week with the pain meds they gave him,” Gracie said, reaching out to hug her.
“What if he doesn’t forgive me?” Gemma whispered.
“Charlie or Travis?” Gracie asked.
“Both.”
Gracie squeezed her waist. “You’re a good mom and Charlie loves you. Believe me, he’ll forgive you.”
“And Travis?”
“If he doesn’t, then he’s a dunce-capped idiot who will find himself in a pair of cement shoes learning to speak trout,” Gracie said with a straight face.
“You are so dumb,” Gemma said, laughing softly.
“Yes, but I’m also hot, funny, and have excellent fashion sense. So I’m pretty sure whatever faults I may have, it’s an even trade. I mean, no one can be this awesome without a few issues,” Gracie said, patting Gemma’s cheek. “If you go to him and tell him you were wrong, that you’ve been a scared sissy la-la, and that you want to spend the rest of your life proving your love. He’d be crazy not to forgive you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
CHARLIE WAS DISCHARGED the next day but still hadn’t said a word to Gemma. After they had him settled at home, her mom had sent her to the store for some groceries while she tried to talk to him, and Gemma went without argument. She needed time to come up with a plan to earn his forgiveness.
And Travis’s.
Travis had called Charlie’s hospital room that morning and talked to him for a while, but whatever he’d said, Charlie hadn’t felt like sharing. She couldn’t blame him.
Pulling into Hall’s Market, she parked her car and grabbed her purse from the front seat. As she headed inside, she passed an employee pushing grocery carts and took one from him before entering the store.
It was like that dream she used to have, where she was walking down the halls of school in her underwear. People were staring at her, whispering behind their hands. She tried to ignore them, intently looking over her grocery list.
“Gemma, how’s Charlie? I heard he had a fall.”
Gemma looked up into Nancy’s concerned face. “He’s okay. Had to stay overnight at the hospital, but he’s home now. He broke his arm, so he’ll have a cast on for a while, but thank God it wasn’t worse.”
Nancy clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Well, be sure to go by the bakery and pick up a sack of snickerdoodles for him. They’re on us. And let him know we’re thinking of him.”
“Thanks, I will,” Gemma said, trying to politely disengage herself.
“Is Travis at home with him?” Nancy asked.
Gemma really didn’t want to get into her marital problems in the middle of Hall’s. “No, actually, he had to leave for his concert in California, but he called.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, I hope he hurries home. Those fool reporters have been writing some serious whoppers; they ought to be strung up. At least Miss Know It All left you alone; there was barely a blip about you in today’s edition.”
Sure, if you call a quarter of a page a blip. Miss Know It All’s report that there might be trouble between them when Travis left town four days before his concert date was mild in comparison to what was in the major gossip rags this week, so she should be grateful. The gossip columnist could have gone with any of the headlines decorating the magazine covers and blaring from the entertainment TV shows:
TRAVIS BOWER’S SECRET LOVE CHILD WITH HIGH-SCHOOL SWEETHEART!
COUNTRY MUSIC’S #1 BACHELOR GETS HITCHED IN VEGAS!
TRAVIS’S DOUBTS: IS HIS SON REALLY HIS?
On and on they went, each one more humiliating than the last. Some had been so accurate, she’d been ashamed to read them, and others had just made her want to punch someone. If she ever discovered who’d brought this shitstorm down on them, she would teach them a lesson about what happens when you make Mama Bear angry.
Half an hour later, she was struggling to find her car keys in her purse when she heard a definite southern drawl ask, “Excuse me, Mrs. Bowers?”
Gemma looked up from her futile search and glared at the tall, brassy blonde with hair so high and stiff it must have taken a whole can of hairspray to achieve. “Yes?”
“Well, hey there, can I help you? You look like me when I drop my lipstick in my purse. Don’t know why I carry so much stuff. I guess I always think I’m gonna need it someday.” The blonde took hold of the cart handle, and Gemma grabbed her purse quickly as the strange woman pushed it forward.
“Um, Ms . . . .” Gemma protested.
“Oh, my name is Mrs. Lisa Collier, originally from the great state of Mississippi. Tupelo, to be exact. You ever been to Tupelo? Birthplace of Elvis, and believe me, we don’t let anyone forget it. Even got his likeness frosted on a window at our McDonald’s. ’Course, I’ve been living in Nashville since I was eighteen, and it’s where I met my husband, Nelson. Wouldn’t have looked at him twice, but we were in the same dorm in college and lordy, if he didn’t stand outside my window one night singing Kenny Roger’s song ‘Lady’. Mind you, he couldn’t carry a tune, but . . .”
“Mrs. Collier!” Gemma almost yelled, but geez, the woman didn’t even breathe from one sentence to the next.
Gemma’s sharp tone didn’t faze her. “Am I talking too much? Nelson always says I talk too much. My brain just goes a mile a minute, and I can’t seem to get my mouth to stay shut.”
Gemma coughed to cover a laugh. “So I see. You mind telling me why you’re trying to steal my groceries?”
“Huh? Oh dear, it seems I forgot to ask where you were parked. I swear, I would lose my head if it wasn’t glued on, and wouldn’t that be a sight?”
Gemma was caught between exasperation and admiration. The woman sure could disarm her victims, like a spider disorienting a fly. Gemma had no doubt in her mind that the woman was a reporter, but the question was, why hadn’t Gemma sent her packing yet?
’Cause I can’t get a word in edgewise?
“Okay, Mrs. Collier, I think I know why you’re here, and I’m sorry, but I’m not giving any interviews,” Gemma said as nicely as she could.
“Believe me, honey, I understand. I just got to the party today. I was covering another scoop involving an up-and-coming country singer and her married manager, but I ended up not going through with it, because I actually know the cheating bastard’s wife. I ask you, why is it no one believes in the sanctity of marriage anymore?”
“I couldn’t tell you. My parents were fully committed and married for thirty years until my father’s death five years ago,” Gemma said, forgetting for a minute that Mrs. Collier was the enemy.
“Well, bless your poor mama’s heart, I wouldn’t know what to do without my Nelly. He hates when I call him that, but I love it. So, I find it surprising that your parents had such a long, happy marriage and you ran off to Vegas to get married . . .” Mrs. Collier said.
“On that note, it was nice talking to you and good luck with your story,” Gemma said, trying to take the cart from her.
“Please, Mrs. Bowers, you’ve seen the headlines. They’re saying whatever they want because you’re sitting back and not setting the record straight. Don’t you want people to know the whole story?” Mrs. Collier asked.
Gemma paused, considering what she was saying. Travis had said the only way to squash a story was to give a no-holds-barred exclusive. Was he right? If she told her side of everything, would the vultures find other bones to pick? “Okay, say I give you an exclusive. How do I know you won’t screw me over and twist my words?”
“I can give you my word, plus three references from past interviewees who will vouch for my integrity. You won’t regret sitting down with me, Mrs. Bowers,” Mrs. Collier said, handing her a business card. “I’m staying in town through tomorrow.”
Gemma took the card and blinked. “Music City News? The TV show?”
“Yes, sorry, did I forget to mention that? It’s a great program, and we’re all about the truth, unlike some ‘news’ shows,” Mrs. Collier said with a sniff of disdain.
If I tell them everything, maybe they’ll lose interest and leave Charlie alone.
And maybe it would give her just the opportunity she needed to make things up to Travis and Charlie.
Gemma put the card in her pocket. “I’ll think about it.”