Country: a novel Part 10

"Honest, Chase, I'm fine." And she meant it. She had almost stopped shaking, and she was exhilarated by what she had done. She had actually taken care of herself and proven she could, with no man at hand to help her. Nothing like it had ever happened to her before.

"You may be fine, but I'm not. I'm going to be worried sick until you get home. I want you on the next plane." It sounded appealing even to her, but she didn't want to quit now. It was kind of an endurance contest driving from New York to the West Coast, and now she wanted to finish what she'd started.

"I'm almost halfway home now. It's stupid to fly." But it was also amazing to think that what she could have done in six hours by plane would take her six days by car, with danger, and endless hours of driving every day.

"I'm scared to death of what could happen to you. I have been since you left Nashville. Please, Stevie, be a good girl. Get on a plane tomorrow, and find a decent place to stay tonight, not some s.h.i.+t motel along the road."

"They told me about a Best Western in Rawlins. I'm only a few miles from it now." She could already see the sign for it in the distance, and she took the turnoff while talking to him. It was nicer than any place she'd stayed so far. And she could see the manager in his office. She told Chase she was going to check in, and he told her he'd call her in five minutes.

She got a clean, comfortable room, and Chase called her, as promised. He sounded completely unglued by what had happened, and as she lay on the bed and they talked, he marveled again at her courage and clear-headedness, faced with the three truckers.

"I should never have let you do this. I should have sent you with the bus."

"I wanted to do it. I wanted to see if I could. I've always wanted to drive cross country."

"But not alone." She was in Wyoming by then, and it brought back memories for him of his road tours, driving through the night after a show to get to the next venue. But there were always at least half a dozen others in the van with him. It was why he had bought the bus as soon as he could afford it. Even he, as a man, had never driven cross country on his own by car. He was badly rattled about her incident, and they talked for a long time that night until she was nearly asleep. And he told her to call him the minute she woke up, or if she wanted to talk during the night.

The sun was streaming through the thin curtains when she woke up nine hours later. She felt stiff and exhausted from driving, and she had a bruise on her arm where the truck driver had grabbed her. It hadn't been a bad dream. It was real. She called Chase and woke him up, but he was happy to hear her voice.

"I want you to call me every hour, and I swear if you don't, I'm calling the state police, in every state you're crossing."

"I'll be fine," she promised, but she was shaken too by what had happened the night before, and she swore to him she'd be more careful about where she stopped. And she wouldn't walk out of any more diners alone. She had learned her lesson.

She didn't drive as far that day, she was still tired from the day before, and she stopped at a very respectable place for breakfast and ordered scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee. She bought sandwiches so she wouldn't have to stop for lunch. And by nightfall she was in Utah and went to a Denny's. She had talked to Chase all along the way. He was talking her home day by day, hour by hour, and keeping even closer tabs on her now. Originally, he hadn't been too concerned about the trip, but as he got closer to her, he worried more.

By the fifth day, she had made it through Utah, and to Nevada by evening. And the sixth day she pressed on after nightfall, so she'd get home that night. She pulled into her driveway at midnight, and just sat there for a minute. It felt as though she had left for the weekend in Santa Barbara months before. Her house looked quiet and dark. She got out of her car, dragged her bag up the front steps, and let herself into the house. She turned off the alarm and turned on the lights, and Chase called her just as she did. It was two in the morning for him.

"What are you doing awake? I was going to text you. I didn't want to wake you up."

"I'm just happy to know you're home. And I don't care what you want to prove, please don't ever do anything like that again." But she had a huge sense of accomplishment as she looked around her house. She knew now that she could take care of herself, whatever happened. She had learned important information about herself, and now felt less vulnerable than she had before. And her voice sounded strong to Chase as they talked.

"How does your house look?" He meant tidy or not, not how fancy, and she understood.

"It's okay, empty, lonely. You're not here," she said softly, sounding like a woman who couldn't have broken anyone's nose in a hundred years. "It's not as nice as your house," she said, remembering his. "It feels like a relic of the past, from another life." Her children had grown up in the house, and her marriage to Bill had waxed and waned, and she had lived here when he died. Now all those memories were intertwined, and she felt overwhelmed by them as she walked around. "Time for another trip," she said jokingly, and he groaned.

"That's not funny, unless you want to charter a plane. Get some sleep now. We'll talk tomorrow." She knew they would. He had literally talked her across the country, watching over her like a guardian angel, and he had delivered her safely home. She dragged her large bag upstairs to her bedroom, b.u.mping it on each step, but she got it there and set it down. And as she glanced around her bedroom and thought of the three men outside the diner, she realized she would never be afraid again.

Chapter 16.

Stephanie could hardly wait to see her friends. She called Jean and Alyson the morning after she got back from her trip. Jean had been waiting to hear from her and knew she was driving cross country. Alyson had only just come up for air after the kids were sick and had no idea where Stephanie had been. She had lost track the week before. And it seemed impossible to believe, for all of them, that Stephanie had been gone for three weeks. Even more so for her, in those few weeks, her whole life had changed. And now she was back where she had started, having met new people, done new things, stepped into Chase's world in Nashville, seen two of her children, and driven across the country by herself. She felt like a different person, and yet everything at home was the same.

The three women agreed to meet for lunch on Union Street the next day. And somehow Stephanie expected them to look different, because she felt so different inside. There was no way to tell them how much she had seen and experienced, or even why she had gone to Las Vegas instead of coming home, had followed Chase to Nashville to explore his world, and then wanted the challenge of driving three thousand miles alone. Their lives were so safe and predictable, she knew they'd never understand the feelings she had, of being alone and vulnerable since Bill died. She had needed desperately to find out if she could take care of herself now, and the night she was almost raped by three men, she had. It gave her self-confidence and a feeling of independence and security that she'd never had before.

She strode into the restaurant and saw her two women friends sitting at a table, talking quietly, waiting for her. Alyson was wearing jeans and a sweats.h.i.+rt, her hair was a mess, and she had circles under her eyes after weeks of too little sleep taking care of her sick children. And Jean had had a manicure and a facial, and had her hair done and blown out that morning. She looked terrific in a white cashmere Chanel tracksuit. And Stephanie was wearing one of the pink T-s.h.i.+rts she'd bought in Las Vegas, with a pair of ragtag jeans. She looked young and healthy, with her hair in a ponytail, and her big blue eyes the color of a summer sky. There was a sparkle in them that Jean hadn't seen in years. They smiled the moment they saw her, and Stephanie kissed them both on the cheek before she sat down.

"h.e.l.lo, ladies," she said with a broad smile. Just seeing them made her feel better about coming home.

"Welcome home," Jean said, delighted to see her friend. She instantly noticed the change in Stephanie.

"I'm sorry I look such a mess," Alyson apologized. "I was about to get ready when the dog got sick, and I had to drop her off at the vet." Her life was one of children, dogs, a house to run, kids' lives and after-school activities to organize, and a husband who wanted her full attention every night. There was never any time left over for her. Stephanie had lived that same life for twenty-six years. She had thought she still missed it, but when she looked at Alyson, she realized that there were advantages to her new life. "Wow, you look great. I can't believe you drove home from New York. Why?" Alyson asked her. They all knew what they were going to order. They had the same salad every time, with iced tea for Stephanie and Alyson. And Jean always ordered a gla.s.s of white wine.

"I just thought it would be exciting to drive home. I decided to go to Nashville to see my old friend Laura Perkins from college." She had almost become real to Stephanie by now, she had mentioned her so many times. "And I wanted to see Michael in Atlanta. I decided to go to New York to see Louise at the last minute, and by then, I was there, I had my car. It seemed stupid to s.h.i.+p it back, and I've always wanted to do it, so I drove. It took six days, and it was great." She didn't mention the incident outside the diner. She knew it would have terrified them for her. And she was fine, although it had scared her too, and Chase. She had been very lucky and instinctively used her wits. Chase had said afterward admiringly that she "had b.a.l.l.s." "What about you two? What have you been up to?" Stephanie asked them.

"I'm on the benefit committee for the Diabetes Ball in September. I just got put on the ballet board. And I'm spending Fred's money as fast as I can. I bought a new sable coat last week," Jean said with a grin. "I can wear it when we go to New York in the fall."

"I've been nursing sick kids," Alyson said, looking apologetic. She had nothing to contribute to the conversation compared to the other two, but they loved her anyway. She was a good person, a great wife and mother, and their friend. She didn't have to prove anything to them. "And Brad just got a distinguished service and lifetime achievement award from the Orthopedic Surgeons' Board," she said proudly, and Stephanie had to resist saying "What about you?" It was always about him or the kids, just as her life had been until now. Now it was finally her turn. They were almost the same age, but Stephanie had finally graduated. With young kids, for Alyson, time for herself was years away. Stephanie had never felt as free or as comfortable with herself as she did now.

"Okay, so tell all," Jean said as their salads came. "Who did you meet? Any cute men in Nashville or New York?" She knew about Chase but didn't want to let on to Alyson that she did.

"Jean!" Alyson said with a shocked look. "Bill's only been gone for four months and one week, I'm sure Stephanie doesn't want to think about dating for at least a year, if then." As she said it, Stephanie thought about her long, hungry kisses with Chase. But she hadn't expected that either, so she couldn't blame Alyson for thinking it was out of the question. Stephanie still considered what had happened with him an aberration. She had never even thought about "dating" until then. And she still told herself they weren't "dating," they were friends. With a hint of future romance. But she couldn't deny, even to herself, how close they were and how much she liked him.

"Don't be ridiculous," Jean said, taking a sip of her wine. "You don't expect her to sit around alone for the rest of her life? Look at her, she looks thirty years old. Some hot guy is going to sweep her up in a New York minute. And they d.a.m.n well should." She didn't say anything, but she had noticed that Alyson needed to get her nails done, and she had three inches of dark roots. Unlike Stephanie, she wasn't a natural blond. But she never had time to take care of herself and lately didn't seem to care. The only time she dressed in something other than jeans and sweatsuits was when they went away on their couples weekends. The rest of the time she said she didn't have time, and the kids got food, markers, or paint on what she wore anyway.

"Are you thinking about dating?" Alyson asked Stephanie with a look of amazement after what Jean had just said.

"No...not really...I don't think so. I don't know," she said, looking embarra.s.sed. "Maybe one day. I'm not ready yet. Bill's clothes are still in the closet, his flip-flops are next to the bed, his gla.s.ses are in every drawer in the kitchen." But more than that, he was still in her head. But now so was Chase. But she didn't want to say that to Alyson. "I guess I'll have to eventually. It's hard to figure out. I still feel married, and if I slept with someone else, I'd feel like I was cheating on him." That much was true, and she had said it to Chase. He understood.

"That never stopped him when he was alive," Jean said wryly and finished the gla.s.s of wine. She was always more outspoken when she drank, and Alyson looked uncomfortable. She never said anything to remind Stephanie of that terrible time. And Alyson was sure he had never done it again. They had been back together for years. And Stephanie had never shared with her how dead their marriage had felt after that. She hadn't even admitted it to herself until now. "That's how guys are," Jean added, and Alyson looked pained. "It never seems to bother them to cheat on us. But if we do it, it's the end of the world. What makes them think they're any different from us? We like cute guys too. We're just too scared to do anything about it. They're not. They never care about the consequences if they want to get laid." Alyson hated Jean's theories about men, and changed the subject.

"So when is Charlotte coming home?" Alyson asked Stephanie.

"Next week. She hasn't told me what day. She's been all over Europe with her friends. She's going to be bored stiff here. It'll do her good to take it easy for two months before she goes back to school in New York. I really miss having her in the house." And she knew it might be the last summer, since she would be graduating in a year and working after that, maybe in another city, like Michael and Louise. "It was great seeing Michael, although Amanda is still firmly entrenched. I'm scared she's going to get him in the end."

"I hope not," Jean said firmly. "He's such a sweet boy."

"She wants to buy a house with him. I hope they won't. Then he'll really be stuck with her, married or not." But knowing that he had invited Sandy to Atlanta, Stephanie wondered if things in his life had changed. He hadn't said a word to her. And all she knew was from Chase.

"I'm sure that's what she has in mind," Jean said, suspicious. "Let's hope she doesn't get pregnant first."

"Don't even say it," Stephanie said, rolling her eyes with a look of dread.

Jean picked up the check, although Stephanie offered to-the three of them always took turns paying-but Jean was happy to do it today. And Stephanie's cell phone rang while Jean was paying. It was Chase.

"Hi," she said discreetly, lowering her voice. "I'm having lunch with friends. Can I call you back in a few minutes? We're just leaving."

"Of course." He had gotten used to checking in on her all the time, while she was driving, but now she was home, so things had changed. "Sorry, Stevie."

"No worries. I'll call you when I get home." Her house was only a few blocks away, and she saw that Alyson was watching her with interest when she hung up.

"Who was that? Your whole face changed when you answered." Jean had seen it too, and was smiling. She could easily guess who it was.

"It was Laura," Stephanie said quickly, not knowing what else to say, but Jean knew the truth, and Alyson didn't. Stephanie just didn't feel ready to tell her about a man. She didn't think Alyson would understand. Jean did, and was more open-minded about it, and even enthusiastic. She had been encouraging Stephanie to get involved with Chase since the first day. But Stephanie sensed that Alyson would be shocked, and maybe even disapprove out of loyalty to Bill.

"Since when is Laura so important that you drove across the country to see her? I never heard you mention her before. And you didn't tell us in Santa Barbara that you were going there," Alyson challenged her.

"I decided at the last minute, when she called to invite me," Stephanie said, trying to sound vague, and wondering if it was true that she looked different when Chase called. She was always happy to hear his voice. "We were friends in college, and we recently reconnected. She just lost her husband too. So we're both at loose ends." The story was getting more convoluted, and the lies were taking on a life of their own. Her fictional friend had even begun to seem real to her, and was really just a disguise for Chase, to her kids and now to her friends. "Laura" was her excuse for spending two weeks getting to know Chase and discovering his world. But what she had just said to Alyson sounded plausible to her, and she seemed to relax about it.

"Well, I'm glad you have her to be with," Alyson said kindly. "I feel so guilty sometimes that I'm so busy with the kids. I always want to spend time with you, and then something happens and I can't." She looked genuinely sorry, and Stephanie knew that Alyson cared about her, and was just overwhelmed by her life. "Why don't you have Laura come out to visit you here, if she's alone now too?" She hated to think of how lonely Stephanie must be in the empty house without Bill.

"She probably will," Stephanie said easily. "We had a nice visit while I was there. We even went to Graceland."

"It's good for you to have someone to do things with," Alyson said sympathetically. And then all three women hugged each other as they left the restaurant and promised to get together soon.

"Say hi to Laura for me," Jean whispered to Stephanie as she kissed her goodbye, knowing full well it was the code name for Chase.

"I will," Stephanie promised, and went back to her car, happy to have seen her friends. She was home five minutes later and called Chase. She was out of breath from running up the stairs.

"Sorry. I couldn't talk in front of them."

"I didn't mean to bother you. I just missed you. And we're going to work in the studio in a few minutes. I wish you were here."

"So do I," she said honestly. "I have nothing to do here. I'm almost sorry I came back." She was planning to go to the shelter to work, but they just didn't need her enough. They had plenty of volunteers. And she had to get ready for Charlotte to come home in a few days. And while she was driving home, she had decided to put Bill's clothes away. She wanted to do it before her daughter got home. It would be upsetting for her to see her mother empty his closets.

"You can come back anytime," he reminded her, and she smiled, thinking about it.

"I'd like that a lot." And she hoped he'd come to San Francisco one day, although they had no plans.

"I'll call you when we finish," he said. She could hear the others shouting out to him, and knew he had to go. And a minute later they had said goodbye, and he was off the phone. She sat thinking about him for a long time, with her cell phone still in her hand, remembering the good times they'd had in Nashville, and lying in his arms on his bed. She was startled when the phone rang as she held it. It was Charlotte, back in Rome, after her trip to Paris.

"Ready to come home, sweetheart?" her mother asked her, and there was a brief silence at the other end. For a minute, Stephanie thought the line had gone dead.

"Actually...that's why I called you, Mom. Everyone's going to the South of France next week, and I got invited to Corsica, and St. Tropez. Could I, do you think...would it be okay if I stay another month? I promise I'll come home at the end of July, and spend August with you." Stephanie was disappointed to hear it, but she didn't have any fabulous plans to offer Charlotte, the weather was always bad in San Francisco in the summer, cold, foggy, and windy, and she knew that Charlotte would have nothing to do when she got home. And it was hard to compete with Corsica and St. Tropez.

"I guess so," Stephanie said quietly. It made her sorry she had come home from Nashville. With none of the kids home in July, she could have stayed there with Chase. But her children never planned ahead, and even when they did, they changed plans at the last minute, as Charlotte wanted to do now. "Okay." She agreed to what Charlotte was asking, and reminded her that she had to give up her room in the apartment she had been a.s.signed the following week. They were student apartments provided by the university. She had five roommates, and Charlotte had to vacate her room.

"I'm going to leave for St. Tropez before then. Thank you, Mom!" She sounded ecstatic that she didn't have to come home. After they hung up, Stephanie lay down on her bed, wondering what to do next. She wanted to empty Bill's closets, but she wasn't ready to do it on her first day back. She had the whole month of July to do it now. She lay there and closed her eyes, thinking of Chase, wis.h.i.+ng she were with him in Nashville. The house seemed emptier than ever now that she knew Charlotte wasn't coming home.

Chapter 17.

After Sandy's visit, Michael felt like everything had changed. When Amanda came home from Houston, exhausted after the weekend, she found Michael remote and strange. He wanted to talk to her, but thought he should give her a chance to catch her breath.

She didn't say anything about how quiet he was for the first few days, and thought he was busy at work or in a bad mood. He was trying to plan what to say, as nicely as he could.

"What's up?" she finally asked him on Friday night, when they went out to dinner, and were going to meet up with friends. "Bad week at work?"

"No, just busy." He didn't meet her eyes.

"You've been acting weird all week. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." But he had verbalized things to Sandy that he had never admitted to himself, that he couldn't see himself spending the rest of his life with Amanda, marrying her, or having kids. They were just too different, and her career ambitions no longer seemed to mesh with his. It sounded corny, but he wanted a wife or woman more like his mother. Amanda thought of everything in terms of the investment, of time, energy, or money, rather than the people involved. She wasn't a nurturing person. She was a money-making machine in a dress. And she kept talking about what they could do with their two combined incomes, rather than how much she loved him. Listening to her now turned Michael off. And he hated to admit it to her, but he was done. All that remained was to tell her. The hardest part.

She had been talking to him about the house she wanted to buy with him all night during dinner, and she could see that he had tuned out. He and Sandy had been texting each other all week, and he had called her when she got home, right before Amanda got back. He felt awkward calling Sandy now, until he worked things out with Amanda, but texting seemed okay. The subtle shadings of modern technology. And sending her an e-mail would definitely be too much. He didn't want to make promises or issue invitations until he was free. And Amanda still wanted to buy a house with him, and expected to marry him one day. They weren't engaged, but in her mind, they might as well have been. All the same expectations were there. Amanda was too ambitious, demanding, and grown up. Sandy seemed like an irresistible little elf. He kept thinking of her in the pink cotton dress and ballet flats when she left. She looked like a beautiful little girl, but at the same time she was a woman, and he was overwhelmed with desire for her. It was all he could think of every night when he went to bed with Amanda, and the haunting visions of Sandy just wouldn't go away. He was afraid that Amanda would guess before he had a chance to clean things up. She had noticed something off about him, but had no idea what.

"So what do you think, Mike? Should we go house hunting this weekend?" Amanda was like a dog with a bone. "I looked online, and there are three open houses in Buckhead at really reasonable prices. I think we should take a look." Buckhead was a beautiful, very substantial part of town. But not where Michael wanted to live. It was where older people who made a lot of money bought homes.

"I don't feel ready to buy a house," he managed to blurt out, and she gave him a startled look.

"You don't?" She had just given him the perfect opening for what he wanted to say, but he was scared. And knew he had to say it anyway. In fairness to them all.

"That's such a big commitment," he said, about a house in Buckhead. "What if I lose my job, or you do? How would we handle the mortgage?" Even without Sandy, he was worried about it.

"My dad says he would help us." And then she narrowed her eyes and looked at him. "Are you having second thoughts about us?" That had never even occurred to her before, but she sensed it now. He always seemed so steady and on track, and now he was sidling around, like a nervous horse. She'd been talking to him about a house for six months, and had never picked up any skittishness before.

"Look, we're both twenty-five years old. What's the rush? I like my apartment. You live in a nice place. Why do we have to buy a house?"

"It's a great investment. My dad says we're just wasting money with rent. He said he'll help us with the down payment, and you have the insurance money from your dad, which is just sitting there. Why not put it into a house?" She had it all figured out, and a.s.sumed a lot. Michael had thought of buying a house with the insurance money too, but more modestly, and on his own. And he knew his mother didn't like the idea of his buying real estate with Amanda. She had asked him what would happen if their relations.h.i.+p didn't work out. If they owned a house together, it would be complicated and more like a divorce.

"I think we're both too young." He sounded hesitant as he said it, thinking of Sandy and the weekend before. He had no idea what to do about her yet, and the prospect of looking at houses with Amanda only made his anxiety worse.

"I'm not too young to buy a house," Amanda said with determination. "And you're not either. You're just scared," she said, hoping to embarra.s.s him into it, but he surprised her and agreed.

"Yes, I am. You make a lot more money than I do. What if I can't hold up my end?" Given the houses she wanted to look at, and the area, it was going to be a stretch for him, a big one. She wanted a serious house, and her daddy said she could have it. But more than that, she wanted Mike to go with it. Michael felt like her father was buying him as well as the house. It made him feel claustrophobic.

"Let's just see if there's anything we want," she said firmly.

"I don't know if I can afford it," he said, feeling as though he were shouting into cotton. She didn't want to hear him, and after he paid for their dinner, they left the restaurant and went to meet up with friends at Strip.

Amanda noticed that he never said another word for the rest of the night, and drank a little too much. He wasn't falling off his bar stool, but he was vague and distracted. But she was confident she would ultimately convince him about the house. And if she couldn't, her father would for sure. She could hardly wait to look that weekend.

Michael texted Sandy from the bar that night, while no one was watching. Amanda was busy talking to their friends. He wrote to Sandy that he was thinking about her. She had been answering promptly all week when he texted her, and sent back funny little quips that made him smile, or sent smiley faces. But this time, when he needed to hear from her, she didn't answer. It made him feel lonelier than ever, standing right next to Amanda. And all he knew was that he didn't want to be railroaded into a house he didn't want to buy, or forced to stay with a woman he had only recently discovered wasn't for him. And the one who was, was barely more than a child, just eighteen, and had a boyfriend too.

- Sandy was rehearsing with the band that night. Chase had written some new songs that he wanted to try out. She was only singing backup with Delilah, but she was distracted and couldn't get it right. It was unusual for her, but this time she couldn't remember the words. And Bobby Joe was sitting on the sidelines and smirking at her. Without a word, he managed to convey just how stupid and inept she was by rolling his eyes.

Chase came over and said something to her during a break. "Is Bobby Joe distracting you?" He had seen him grinning derisively at her, and Sandy looked away, after she made the same mistake four times.

"No," she said, embarra.s.sed and apologetic. "I don't know why I can't get it right." The words were simple to remember. "Just dumb, I guess," she said under her breath, as Chase spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"What did you just say?" he asked, looking intently at her. "If that little a.s.shole makes you feel like that about yourself, get rid of him, Sandy. He's never going anywhere, except a bar on West End Avenue, or some shoestore with live music. You're going to be a star one day, and not because of me. You've got everything it takes, he doesn't. He should be playing a washboard somewhere. So don't let me hear you saying how dumb you are, Sandy Johnson, or I'm going to kick your a.s.s." She smiled when he said it.

"Sorry, Chase." He nodded with a serious expression, and then glanced at her. She seemed troubled.

"Does this have anything to do with last weekend in Atlanta?" He lowered his voice to ask her. She hesitated and then nodded. He was like a father to her, and she always told him the truth, even more than she had to her own dad.