Chapter Twenty-Five
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“ARE YOU CRAZY, Travis? You’re at the top of your game! Why would you want to take a step back now?” Big George asked as he paced the room.
“Because I want to be there for my kid, George. What part of that don’t you understand?” Travis could understand George’s concern that if he slowed his momentum now, when he was barely past thirty, he might not have a large enough fanbase to start his own label later on, but he was determined. It was about time he got a life other than his career, and spending time with Charlie was suddenly his biggest priority.
“People don’t slow down until they’re getting ready to retire!” George argued, his voice rising with each word.
“I’m not ready to retire. I’m just going to take the next year off, buy myself a house in my hometown, and be with my family,” Travis said patiently.
“What family? I thought Gemma kicked you out,” George said, his face flushed. He lowered his voice slightly, “Are you sure the kid is even yours? It wouldn’t be the first time—”
“He’s mine, no doubt about it. And I never said Gemma kicked me out,” Travis said, not wanting to discuss his marriage with George. He liked the man, had been with him for ten years, but George was a money man, and anything else in life came second.
“All right, he’s yours, fine. But it doesn’t mean you have to go off the grid. We could hire a tutor and the kid could come on the road with you,” George said.
“No. I want my son to have stability and security. I want him to have a home, school, friends . . . not drifting around like a vagabond,” Travis said. He smiled as he added, “Besides, Gemma wouldn’t like it.”
“I don’t know why you care what that woman likes; she kept your son a secret for ten years and then married you without mentioning it. If I were you, I’d sue her ass for full custody and forget her,” George said.
Travis was starting to lose patience with George’s hostility. “Good thing you aren’t me, then. I’m not taking my son from his mother and I’m done with this discussion. You know what I want. Make it happen.”
“All right, and Chelsey Cooper? How do you want to handle her?”
When George had discovered the leak about Gemma’s name had come from his opener, Travis had been livid, wanting her head on a figurative plate.
“I’ll take care of her. You just handle the rest.”
GEMMA STOPPED OFF at the mailbox and found a small rectangular package mixed in with her bills. Looking at the return address, her hand shook. It was their wedding video.
I’m not going to watch it. What good would it do?
Gemma wasn’t sure, but as she walked through the door, she was reluctant to set the package down. Clutching it to her chest, she could hear her mother singing along to Alan Jackson, off-key and loud. Setting the groceries and the rest of the mail on the counter, she asked, “How is he?”
Her mother turned around, her light brown eyes amused. “Stubborn, like his mama.”
“So he still won’t talk to me?”
“The minute I started to give him my opinion, he shut down tighter than a clam and wouldn’t talk about it. Best thing I can tell you, sweetheart, is to go up there and try. He loves you; he just needs to realize that even you make mistakes,” her mother said, frowning. “Then I want you to call my son-in-law and tell him to get his ass back here pronto.”
“Mom, I don’t think—”
“That’s your problem, sweetheart, you don’t really think. You’re impulsive and you let your emotions run away with you until they’re so big you can’t see the truth. The truth is you should have told Travis about Charlie the minute you realized you were pregnant. I know you’ve convinced yourself that you were just protecting Charlie, but that’s not the real truth. There’s no shame in being afraid to take a chance, honey. But it’s when you spend your life running away from the hard things that you miss out on the good stuff. Just like you panicked again when those reporters showed up. Instead of sticking with your husband and solving the problem together, you took the easy way out,” her mother said.
Gemma’s eyes filled with tears. “You think it was easy telling Travis I didn’t care? It wasn’t.”
“You used to do the same thing when your father got angry with you. This look used to come over your face, like you were in a daze and far, far away.”
“That’s because I was. After a while it was easier to tune him out,” Gemma said.
“I know your father was a stubborn, loudmouthed jackass, but he wasn’t all bad. You two had your good times, too. The problem was that when he wouldn’t bend, you broke instead,” she said, shaking her head. “You held onto all that anger and resentment, and it’s been eating at you. You gotta learn to pick your battles and decide when you should be bending instead.”
“You’re wrong, Mom. I forgave him. It was Dad who wouldn’t let go and admit he was wrong.”
“No, he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t the only thing in your life that made you distance yourself from love, Gemma. You forget, I was the one who held you after school when one person after another bullied you and took a little more of your strength. Until one day you stopped crying. That worried me more than anything. It was like you shut down your emotions, tuning out the hurt and pain until you were like a shell. I kept telling your father to go easy on you, but of all you kids, you were the one he couldn’t get a handle on. James, Dawn, and Drew; I love them to death, but they never tried to color outside the lines like you did. They were easy because they decided early on that it was better not to make waves. And then you came along, and you were vibrant, independent, and such a dreamer that it made your father crazy. He wasn’t much for things he couldn’t understand.”
Her mother reached out and brushed her hair back from her face as she continued. “But don’t ever think he didn’t love you, Gemma. He didn’t have the best role model of what a father should be, and that handicapped him from really getting close to you. I know we’ve been over it, and you don’t like me to make excuses, but you need to forgive him for everything, and not just the last few years. If you don’t let go of all that anger, you’ll never be able to let your guard down and be happy with anyone, let alone someone who pushes you like Travis. And you deserve to be happy, honey.”
Gemma processed her mother’s words and whispered, “Travis never had a dad, and his mom was a junkie. He was sent to eight different foster homes, but he’s a wonderful dad.”
Her mother laughed softly. “I’m sure he is, but none of us are perfect, Gemma. Travis is going to make his own mistakes with Charlie, just like you have. The thing about people is we’re flawed; we’re going to mess up, and it’s up to those around us to get us back on track.”
Gemma’s eyes stung as she thought about how mad Charlie was with her now and wished her mother didn’t make so much sense.
For some reason, she still couldn’t let go of the video and, clearing her throat, she asked, “Will you excuse me, Mom? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Before her mother could stop her, she practically ran down the hall to the guest room, shutting the door behind her. She hadn’t gotten around to cleaning it yet, and the room still held the spicy scent of Travis’s cologne. With desperate, jerky motions, she opened the package, knowing she had to watch the video, no matter what it showed her. Finally, she took a deep breath and sat on the end of the bed, holding onto the remote for dear life.
The words Travis and Gemma’s Ceremony popped up on the screen, and with shaking hands, Gemma pressed play.
The sound of soft organ music began as the picture came into focus. Seamus stood under an arbor, yelling at the person behind the camera, and a red-haired woman Gemma remembered as his wife came to stand next to him, flicking his ear. The view moved slightly to the right and Travis came into view, moving up to join Seamus. Gemma’s vision blurred as she watched his attention shift and his handsome face split into a wide grin. The camera turned slowly and she saw herself in that cream ball gown, walking up the aisle with a goofy smile, her eyes glued on Travis, smiling under the arbor. The camera followed her until she almost reached Travis and then zoomed in on his face. Travis’s blue eyes sparkled like crystals, and she could have sworn she saw tears in them before he reached out and pulled her to him. As she watched, she remembered that feeling of Travis kissing her, clinging to his hard biceps as he told her without words that he wanted this. He wanted her.
In the video, Seamus cleared his throat and hissed, “Hey now, boyo, there’ll be plenty of time for that after.”
Gemma watched the couple pull apart. Now she couldn’t see her own face, but she could see Travis’s. It was filled with joy and . . . warmth. Love.
As Seamus went through the vows, the camera moved. Gemma, her face flushed with color, repeated after him without looking away from Travis.
I, Gemma Anne Carlson, take thee, Travis Charles Bowers . . .
Before, Gemma hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Travis’s face during the ceremony, or whether or not he’d really cared about her, but staring at the woman in the film now, she could remember how she felt standing up there, reciting those words. And the only person she’d ever wanted to say them to was Travis.
She loved him. Beyond reason, logic, or fear. She’d been holding on to the past so tightly that she hadn’t been able to listen to herself and what was best for her.
Gemma had been half alive until she’d met him, and when he was gone, she’d put her heart and soul into their son. But the minute she’d found Travis again, that spark had returned.
He was her light. He was her strength.
And she had blown it, big-time.
“Gemma?” her mother called, coming into the room. Gemma tried to hide her tears and turn off the DVD, but her mother had already seen it.
“Oh, Gemma.” Her mother sat down next to her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was so comforting; Gemma longed to turn her head and sob into her shoulder, but she didn’t want to break down.
As if she didn’t feel Gemma’s stiffening, her mother said, “I still remember the first day you brought Travis home to meet us. I saw the way you were with him. After you started dating, your daddy told me he thought Travis was too mature and would take advantage of you. I didn’t agree, though. When you were with Travis, I watched as that little spark you used to have started to come back, and you shined, honey. He brought out the best in you, and you were good for him.”
Sighing, her mother continued, “I think I did you a disservice. I told you to keep your head down and ignore the bullies. I didn’t ever tell you that I often disagreed with your father. I taught you to be weak and scared, when I should have taught you how to fight for what you wanted. I’m sorry I failed you.” Taking Gemma’s hand, she asked, “What do you want, Gemma? What’s going to make you happy and whole again? What do you want to fight for?”
Gemma’s cheeks were wet with tears and her voice sounded strangled as she said, “I want Travis. I want him here, living with us. I want to spend the rest of our lives together, having more children and loving each other.” Sobbing, she threw herself against her mother, letting go of the bitterness, the resentment. “I want it all, Mom.”
Her mother’s arms tightened around her and she whispered, “Then make things right with your boy, and go after what you want.”
A LITTLE WHILE later, after her tears had dried and she was calm, Gemma walked up the stairs to Charlie’s room. Knocking, she called, “Charlie, can I come in?”
There was a pause, and then he said, “I guess.”
Turning the knob and pushing the door open, she walked inside and made her way to sit down on his bed. He was propped up by a mountain of pillows, reading one of his Goosebumps books.
Hesitantly, she asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Okay,” he said quietly, not looking up from his book.
“Charlie, look at me, please.”
Those dark blue eyes met hers defiantly, and she sighed. “I know you’re mad at me, and I don’t blame you. I’m mad at myself, for a lot of things.” Reaching out, she took his book from his hand and set it on the nightstand. “I used to get mad at your grandpa and grandma a lot, too.”
“Why?” Charlie asked.
Gemma smiled a little. “My father, who you didn’t get a chance to meet, used to say hurtful things to me and yell. A lot. I know that he was doing the best he could, but when you’re a kid, you don’t get it. All you know is that there’s this huge person in your face screaming, and it scares you.”
“He did that?” Charlie asked, eyes wide.
“Yeah, he did. He wasn’t a bad man, he just didn’t have a very good example to follow, and he let his anger get the best of him sometimes. But when he would get into that state, I learned to shut him out. I would go to a little place inside my mind and wait until it was over.”
“Did Grandma yell at you, too? Is that why you got mad at her?” Charlie asked.
“No. I was mad at Grandma for not stopping him,” Gemma said.
Charlie seemed to be mulling things over. “Did you ever forgive her?”
“Yes, the year after you were born. Grandma and I got into an argument, and I told her how I felt. And she cried, and explained that a husband and a wife were a team. She had been taught that you back up your husband in public, and tell him he’s wrong in private,” Gemma said.
“That’s dumb,” Charlie said, using perfect kid logic.
“Yeah, but people are the way they are, and it’s hard to change them unless they want to change.” Squeezing his hand, she continued. “Charlie, your dad and I are going to have fights. All kinds of fights. We’re going to try our hardest not to, but when we do, it doesn’t mean we don’t love you.”
“What about Dad? You said you didn’t love him and you wanted him to go,” Charlie said, his lip trembling.
“I made a mistake. I was upset and took it out on your dad, like my dad did to me. I’m not perfect and I’m going to mess up, but I promise to try to fix this,” she said.
“How?” Charlie asked.
“Well, for starters, I’m going to fly to Sacramento and talk to your dad, ask him to forgive me and for him to come home,” Gemma said, letting out an oomph when Charlie threw his body against hers and wrapped his arm around her neck, his hard cast hanging along his side.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Charlie chanted, squeezing her, and she felt wet tears on her shoulder.
Returning his embrace, she said, “I want you to understand, there’s a chance he won’t forgive me, but even if that happens, he’ll still be your dad.”
“I know,” Charlie whispered.
“How about you? Do you forgive me?” Gemma asked, her eyes filling up with tears.
“Yeah. I’m sorry, Mom.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Gemma said, hugging him hard.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
GEMMA WENT DOWNSTAIRS after Charlie fell asleep, and stopped in the kitchen. Grabbing her purse, she pulled out Ms. Collier’s card and went to get the cordless phone.
“Are you calling Travis?” her mother asked from the kitchen table.
Dialing, she shook her head. “No. I’m calling a reporter who ambushed me outside Hall’s Market.”
“For heaven’s sake, why?”
Holding the phone to her ear, she replied, “Because I’m going after what I want.”