Chapter Three
Dear Diary,
The pain will travel with me, to new heights.
Isabelle sat at the kitchen table, covered with odds and ends that she didn’t bother to put away, since family meals no longer took place. Well, meals for two. She held onto her coffee with one hand and poked at her car keys with the other while she gazed her favorite room in the house. The chiffon-colored paint, which David had picked out and her mother helped apply, still streaked around the edges of the white ceiling and taunted her attention. Today was a Memorial Day holiday, which meant no work, a bonus to being a teacher. She took a deep breath, scooped up the keys, and strode for the door. Just as she gripped the knob, her gaze drifted to the picture on the wall, a close-up of her on her wedding day, caught in an emotional embrace with her mother. She frowned, two years had passed, but it was still like yesterday. Not able to put off the inevitable any longer, she opened the door and stepped out.
****
“Isabelle, you are my daughter, which also means you are a strong young woman. You will be the one person in my life to defy the odds and come out stronger than you went in.” Carol smiled at Isabelle, perched on the stool in front of her. If she timed her reaction right, the anger that bubbled inside her would stay just that—inside. Flashes of the little girl her daughter used to be crossed her mind. Izzy on that very stool with icepacks and Band-Aids. She couldn’t fix this one.
She placed two mugs of hot tea on the kitchen island and paced. Water welled up in her eyes as she glanced at the tiny space. The refrigerator no longer revealed her little girl’s artwork, the oven she didn’t use much anymore, and the sink never filled after meals for one. Food. That she could do something about.
“We need something to go with the tea. Biscotti?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. The well-organized cupboards fell apart, much like her as she sifted for a box she wasn’t quite certain even existed anymore. Empty-handed and angry, she clamped her hand to the powdered sugar, and squeezed until her fingertips pierced the pliable plastic. No food could replace the loss of their husbands or the potential for more heartache.
She let her shoulders fall and fixed the boxes of crackers tipped over in her haste. Isabelle waited in silence and no doubt expected some kind of release or emotional breakdown, but no. She’d vowed to her dying husband she would remain strong; she wasn’t going to let him down now.
She closed the cupboard and ambled out of the galley kitchen, lost. When she’d cleared herself from Isabelle’s view, she braced her hand on the tiny wall and let a tear slip down her face.
“Mom?”
She wiped the tear away with the back of her hand, straightened her back, and forced her feet to move. She cleared her throat. “Yes, dear?” With her gaze locked in front of her, she dragged a stool closer to Isabelle, slid the tea into her daughter’s cold hands, and sat.
“Mom, I have to tell you something.”
She peeked out the corner of her eye. Isabelle’s attention remained glued to the inside of her mug.
“I’ve made a list.”
Her stomach fluttered at the uncertainty in Isabelle’s voice, leery, as if what she had to say would disappoint. Not possible. Carol sipped her tea and waited for its effect to calm her. It didn’t.
“There are things I would like to do…before surgery. Yes, the doctor would like me to have the surgery soon, but this diagnosis has sparked something in me. A need for fulfillment.” Isabelle swiveled on her stool.
She copied the movement, needed her daughter to witness her strength, and acceptance. Isabelle was clearly struggling to mask her doubts and fears in her tone, not actually call it a “bucket list,” but she imagined the words, and it hurt like hell.
All the years she’d allowed her daughter to be so reserved, compliant, no longer gave her the peace of mind she treasured as a single parent. Isabelle’s life would not be perfect, no matter how hard she shielded her.
Isabelle handed her a piece of paper with a list. It wasn’t very long, and not what she imagined. She’s got to want more than this. Is there something missing? I could add to it for her. Would that be awkward? She stared at it, and listened to her reasons for doing this. She didn’t need any. Carol folded the paper when her daughter’s voice trailed off to silence. She glanced up, and the tears she’d held back slipped down her face.
“You’re right, Isabelle, you haven’t lived. As your mother, I have to try and persuade you to act now, but as your friend, I won’t let my needs come before yours. Do what you need to do, honey.”
She hugged her daughter tight. The day of Isabelle’s and David’s wedding flashed before her. Isabelle had glowed as she walked down the aisle in her beautiful, white-satin gown. Happiness spread across her face, content with her choice. Not the troubled way she does right now.
Carol let go, grasped the handle of her mug, and marched back into the kitchen. She set it in the sink and stood still with her back to Isabelle.
“Thank you, Mom.”
She wiped her face with both hands and spun so her back rested against the counter. “No need to thank me, Isabelle. You deserve this.”
Isabelle’s shoulders slumped as she released a breath, consoled by Carol’s unconditional support. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed. She’d seen her daughter do that for years when overwhelmed with emotion. The corner of Isabelle’s mouth rose and she stared back at Carol, but not really at her. Eagerness brimmed in her eyes.
****
For the first time ever, she pulled into her driveway and parked not so close to the house.
Typical Isabelle would traipse into the living room, plop on the couch, and allow her red-rimmed eyes to become watery once again. Instead, she sauntered in with a newfound lightness and aimed straight for the curtains to let the sunlight in.
A beep interrupted her endeavor to start different routines. She threw her hands in the air and growled. “Seriously? I was having a moment here.” With her hands on her hips, she spun until she spotted the computer she’d left on, and froze.
“Nah, it can’t be. Right?” In the short distance to check, her throat dried, so she veered toward the kitchen. “A drink would be nice.”
Way to be a coward, Isabelle.
She opened the fridge and held the door ajar. There had to be something that would calm her nerves, but she lost focus every time she glanced back at the living room.
Could it be?
She nabbed the first cold bottle and started back for the computer. Yes, it was a little early for a beer but hey, she was on the path to a bold life unlived to date.
She sat at the desk, next to a floor to ceiling bookshelf that’d been neglected for some time. Unable to go explore the possibility just yet, she set the bottle down and shuffled bills around. She even opened them, but her attention wandered to the black screen. She held her finger out over the button that could send life in a new direction, squeezed her eyes shut, and pressed it. Not quite brave enough, she opened one eye, but it was enough to see.
Him.
He smiled at her and held onto the proof she needed. Her pulse raced as she admired him with both eyes—stared more like it. Maybe even drooled a little. She grinned in return. The silly expression on his face eased her doubts, no more worries about a joke at her expense.
Cole Davies was famous and from what she’d seen in the news, displayed a great stage presence. But this picture of his clear-blue eyes, and hair held back by a ball cap was real, no façade. It represented more than a sign or a single piece of paper; it was her new path in life. But why? She leaned back in her chair and tapped her leg a moment before she dug in her pocket for her phone and sent a text to Katherine, Abigail, and Taryn.
You have to see this. My place ASAP.
Within seconds, the replies blew up her phone.
On my way. Katherine
’Cause I am sooo not busy. Be right over. Abigail
Shift starts in an hour, gotta be quick. Taryn
She tapped her fingernails on the desk, and glanced around the room at anything other than the man in front of her. No one had ever pursued her before, and the foreign rush it created baffled her, but the pleasant tingle of arousal was something she’d missed.
She sat up straight and then slouched, many times. Every back and forth motion bunched her clothes, so she’d fix them. The girls needed to hurry. A picture of David popped up on the screen and she startled right out of her chair, knocking it over too. She flung it back upright, raised her hands in the air, and wandered to her bedroom. A tirade of rational explanations escaped her in the short distance.
A need for comfort consumed her. The half-empty closet made the search for her yoga pants and tank top very easy. She stared at the open space, didn’t like easy anymore. Time to shop. The room spun around her and a cold sweat broke out over her body. Familiar with the sensation, she ran to the bathroom.
She sat back on her haunches and wiped the tears that streaked down her face. The pregnancy test in the trashcan next to the toilet—the one she’d convinced herself was false—still lay in plain sight. She cringed. Wasn’t she supposed to be living her dreams? She wasn’t even thirty yet.
On unsteady legs, she rose from the cold tile floor and braced her way to the sink. It didn’t seem to matter how much she wiped her face or pinched her cheeks for color. The mirror, and florescent light above it, didn’t lie. The mint of her rinse replaced the acid-like burn in her mouth, and she held it there for as long as possible. When she glanced down at her watch, she winced and spit it out. She needed to get it together fast, or they would see.
She opened the door to leave with much less determination than going in. Two familiar hands greeted her, with a glass of water and tablets.
“A little something to take the edge off?” Katherine held out pills and shook her head. “It will take a lot more than pinched cheeks to convince me, honey.”
Both women laughed.
She took the tablets but only sipped enough water to get them down, not wanting to relive her earlier moments.
“Time’s a ticking.” Taryn demanded with as little patience as usual.
Katherine latched onto her hand and gave it a quick squeeze before they made their way out to the living room.
“I am still feeling hung over, and it’s been days. Please tell me this will not require booze, Izzy.” Abigail placed her hand over her stomach and sat down with a sigh.
“Check this out, and tell me if you think its bullshit?” She clicked the email from Cole and leaned back.
They stood behind her in record time; wind breezed along her back from their rush to spy. Curiosity about their reaction clawed at her. Nothing. Their silence forced her to spin around in her chair. Katherine, Abigail, and Taryn stood side-by-side with their hands over their gaped open mouths.
“Isabelle Chambers. Is that what you responded?” Katherine scolded her with flare in her eyes and pointed at the screen.
“I didn’t believe it to be true. I still don’t. Why would he want to help me? Me?” She spun back to the computer, and slumped in her chair. She was an ass. “Fuck me.”
Taryn laughed. “If I remember right from the gossip Katherine reports, he may be able to help you out with that too.”
A moment of snickers filled the air behind her before nothing…a distant buzz. Her head wobbled. Her body became the string attached to a balloon that’d lost too much air. She opened and closed her eyes but the screen still blurred.
“Breathe, honey. You’re going to pass out.” Katherine placed her hand on Isabelle’s shoulder and squeezed.
The words sharpened and she jumped. Deep breaths, strong enough to cause her shoulders to rise and fall in an exaggerated motion, stopped the room’s spin. “I…um…What?” She leaned forward and dropped her forehead to the desk; the girls laughed when the sound echoed.
“A man who doesn’t put up with your stubborn side. I like him already. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s hot.” Taryn rubbed Isabelle’s back. “Oh my God, maybe you will get to see where Drew Michael’s tattoo goes under those perfectly molded jeans. I am so jealous right now.”
“Think the country girl can handle a little rock and roll?” Abigail placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows, always able to spur everyone’s madness.
She forced her head up off the desk, touched what she assumed to be a very noticeable red spot on her forehead, and glared at Abby. “I can be a wild woman too, ya know. Well, I will be.”
She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head, not sure who she convinced. Back straightened and not able to back down now, she swiveled to the computer, and slumped.
“Well then, get typing, wild woman.”
A supportive hand touched her shoulder, and she didn’t have to double-check to know it was Abby.
She opened a new email before the courage faded and typed.
Subject: Re: Bucket List item #10
Dear Cole, I’m in.
She ended the message with her cell phone number and hit send before she changed her mind; still not quite sure he would contact her.
“Well, now that that’s settled, I have to get back to work. Let me know when he calls you.” Abigail strode out before the girls had a chance to respond, or see her face.
“Me too.” Taryn wrapped her arms around Isabelle from behind and squeezed tight. She placed her hand over Taryn’s arm and squeezed back before Taryn tore hers away, wiped her face, and marched out the door.
Now that the room held less intimidation, she directed her uncertainty to the friend who wouldn’t break down. “Katherine, I’m scared.” She traipsed over to the couch and sat with a pillow stuffed in front of her. “I’m trying to pretend like I’m not. I don’t want pity.”
“Izzy. There is a difference between pity, and sympathy for someone you love who has just been dealt the shittiest hand in their life, which might I add, is usually the case when you lose your money to us on poker night.”
She waved her hand in the air and grabbed her purse. Tears pooled in her eyes. “That Gravol should help you relax for a while. Take advantage of it and get some rest while you can. Something tells me after the next time your phone rings, you won’t get much rest, day or night.” She winked and opened the door to leave, a little more hurried than usual.
Isabelle fought it, but Katherine was right; what else was new? Not long after the girls left, her eyes drooped and she snuggled back onto the oversized couch.
****
She stretched out and yawned. Nothing hurt.
Thank God.
After what she imagined only a moment’s rest, Isabelle glanced back and forth, disoriented at the darkness outside and the time on the clock. Midnight? She sighed and scrubbed her face.
“Yep Abby, I am a wild woman.”
A little more alert, she tossed the pillow to her side and locked up the house. Long gone were the days of unconscious slumber on the couch, too lazy to go to bed. A comfortable night’s sleep trumped all. Steps away from her bedroom door, her phone beeped, and she startled. “Yes, ladies, I’m fine. Give me a minute.” She ran back to the living room. If she didn’t respond to whichever one of her friends texted her, she would be in trouble.
Though, a little more comfort before a longwinded conversation took priority. She grabbed her phone, ran back to her room, and changed into the concert T-shirt she slept in every night. “Yep. Country girl gone rock and roll, that’s me.”
She lit up her phone, and climbed into bed. “Let me guess, Mother Hen?” When her glance landed on his name, she dropped the phone. When he included the number in his email, she’d programmed it into her phone, but didn’t expect it to be real.
Hi Isabelle, Izzy, which do you prefer? It’s Cole. Now a good time to call or is there a husband I might piss off?
Deep breaths prevented another spell like earlier. She picked up the phone, didn’t have to hear his voice yet, so why not dare to test the new wild side? The corners of her mouth rose slightly as she bit her lip and replied.
Just me keeping this bed warm. Sure
Clearly Cole wasn’t one to text and get distracted, the next text bounced back, instantly.
Shame. Give me a minute to find somewhere quiet to talk.
****
Drew stood stiff in front of the bathroom door with a cocky grin. It was the only place on the bus for privacy and when someone rushed toward it with a phone in their hand, it meant one thing. A girl. “Fuck off, man.” He shoved Drew out of the way and glanced over his shoulder. “Knock on the door and you’ll get Nair in your shampoo.” He slammed the door shut.
Hoots and hollers from the guys echoed, and even the dramatic moans vibrated through the door. He put the toilet lid down and sat, but his knee bounced with force while he stared at the screen with her number on it. He ran his fingers through his hair, touched the green icon, and held the phone up to his ear.
“Hello?”
Even her voice is beautiful.
He cleared his throat and held his knee down with a firm hand. “Hi Isabelle, or Izzy, you didn’t say which you prefer. So I guess this means you really do believe me?” He played with the roll of toilet paper, giddy like a little kid, and grateful for Zander’s brilliant idea.
Not that he’d mention it.
Her quiet laugh calmed his nerves, and gave him a hard-on impossible to hide.
“My friends call me Izzy. I have no preference as I like both. You got my attention, Cole. I apologize for my apprehension. If I had to guess, not many women play hard to get in your world?”
He could hear the smile in her voice along with another noise; did she bite her nails? The image of her scoring his chest with those teeth and going down, further, made his pants feel a bit tight. He leaned against the back of the toilet and lowered his zipper. The added room didn’t allow for the relief he needed. He scanned back and forth between his free hand and his cock. Now wasn’t the right time.
“You’re right. It was refreshing to be challenged for a change.” A deep chuckle escaped him before Drew’s earlier words replayed in his head. You know why people do these so called bucket lists, right?
Cole frowned. He hadn’t fallen for anyone since Alexis and his reaction to Izzy shocked him.
“So, your band is on tour? Where are you right now?”
He creased his eyebrows. The tone in her voice had changed from flirty to, serious. “Yes. We’re on the road right now, but we’re on our way to the recording studio back home, just outside of New York. We’ll be back on the road in a couple of days though, for a show in Columbia, South Carolina this Saturday. We’ll be stopped about a half hour away from the airport there Friday afternoon, so Brett can visit with his…parents.”
He glanced over to the door and winced, didn’t want to explain that further. “Anyway, we have a rule. No driving through hometowns without a stop. Do you want to meet us there, or do you have to make some plans first?”
He hit himself in the forehead; he sounded desperate. “I assume you are interested? Actually, do you even like our music?” He bent forward, elbows to knees and clutched his shaggy blonde hair between sweaty fingers to stop the rambled words that spilled from his mouth. It was so quiet he couldn’t even hear her breathe. He held the phone away a brief moment and inspected the screen.
Still lit up. “Izzy? Are you still there?”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m here.” Her voice sounded pained. “I can speak with the principal of the school I teach at in the morning to request an immediate leave of absence. I’m sure he will understand. I haven’t taken time off since—”
Cole caught it, the inhale of breath right before what he imagined was her hand over her mouth.
“Since?”
“Nothing. I have to be honest, I am more of a country music fan than rock, but I am very familiar with your group. My closest friend is a reporter for our local tabloid. She often tells me the latest gossip. Provided I can get a flight out of Tampa, yes, I think I could meet you in South Carolina, if you don’t mind. I assume it really shouldn’t take more than one week to get the feel of what life is like on tour. I’ll be out of your way in no time, I promise.”
He rose and leaned his butt against the counter. A familiar edginess simmered inside him, and he didn’t want her exposed to it. He tugged the towel that hung on the wall and threw it.
“I talked to the guys, and they’re cool with it. You can stay on for however long you like. Our manager on the other hand, will only find out after I get off the phone.” He kicked the toilet and the lid bounced loudly. He held his hand out in surrender to the toilet. He didn’t want to have to explain his current whereabouts yet either. Ugh.
“We like to keep him running in circles. Keeps him out of our hair, but I am sure he will come up with some kind of legal document for you to sign. I hope that isn’t too much to ask?”
She shuffled around on the other end of the phone, and her breath became heavy. He liked the sound of it.
“It won’t be possible for me to make things difficult for you or your band’s future.”
She coughed a little to clear her throat. He raised his eyebrow. She was trying to avoid something. After all, he was a man with baggage and knowledge of the many tactics of avoidance, that one included.
“I have no problem signing any nondisclosure agreements, or anything for that matter. I can book my flight right away and text you the details. I’ll let you know when I land, so you can tell me where to meet up with you.”
Her words were fast, rushed, but pain still lingered in her tone. He scooted back to sit on top of the small counter. His foot shook, and his mind raced with it, trying to decipher the hidden message in her voice.
Is it awkward if I offer to pay for the flight? She said she’s a schoolteacher; do they make good money?
Her laughter caught him off guard. “Okay now it’s my turn to ask. Cole, you still there?”
His leg stilled and he relaxed. She couldn’t see the calm affect her voice had on him. “Still here. I can’t lie. I debated if it would be too forward of me to offer to pay for your flight. I don’t want to offend you but my dad taught me to always provide where a woman is concerned.” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin when she shuffled around again and groaned.
“I have money in savings. You’ve already offered more than imaginable, so please, I will take care of my flight, and no, you didn’t offend me. I should let you go though, so I can make arrangements. It’s late.”
He didn’t want the call to end, if it did, she might not follow through with this. Something about the hurt in her voice made the desire to reach through the phone and hold her so intense he ached. She couldn’t get to him soon enough.
“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything. I look forward to meeting you in person.” He punched at the wall beside him with very little force, but it didn’t offer the same impact his fist through it would.
A loud thump vibrated the door. “Stop the phone sex and get your ass out here, I gotta take a piss.” Zander might be smart from genetics, but his timing sucked.
Although a lot remained the same, the tour just veered from its usual routine, and lightened his mood. “Stock up on ibuprofen, you’re going to need it.”
“I have all the pain meds I’ll need, trust me. I’ll text you soon.”
The air went silent before he could ask if she was okay. He tightened his fist around the phone, clenched his jaw, and whipped the door open.
****
Not able to support herself anymore, she fell back onto the bed with the kind of ease only shown by someone in undeniable pain, and let the phone slide out of her hand. She glimpsed the bottle on the nightstand, closed her eyes, and sighed. Those pills offered a relief she longed for, but her plans required attention.
She huffed and forced her way to the living room to switch on the computer, but needed something to calm her tired chills first. A mug filled with hot tea did just that. She held it to her chin and let the steam warm her face. Her mother claimed it was a panacea for all ailments, which would be nice for the current throb in her head.
A flight to South Carolina for Friday only took minutes to book, a lot easier than expected. She sent him a quick text message.
Hey Cole, it’s Izzy. Flight booked, arriving 6:30 pm. Will text you when I touch down, so you can let me know where to meet up.
She jumped when his response appeared right after. “Doesn’t he have better things to do?”
Perfect, I can’t wait. Now get some sleep, you will need it. Sweet dreams…
She stared at her phone. Her shoulders relaxed, comforted by his words yet unsure what to make of them. Once again, she flicked off the lights, and dragged her feet to her room. Would it be possible to complete the list without hurting anyone in the process?
