Closer Home (31 page)

“Do you love me?” he demands in a hoarse voice.

“Enough to make me write a song about it,” I answer. And then, because I’m a little different now, I manage to whisper, “I love you, Dale.”

After that, lips and hands do all the talking and words don’t seem to matter.

It’s a small ceremony, mostly family, and all of the attendees are sworn to secrecy. We wanted to have it in the backyard at the house Dale built for us, but just to be sure no media shows up, we’ve chosen Dale’s parents’ place instead. Mom Elliot is in seventh heaven, what with the wedding and her ready-made granddaughter and the opportunity to prepare a feast.

Nancy is my bridesmaid. Timothy and Dennis have traveled here for the occasion, and Timothy serves as groomsman. Most of my students are here, and some of the guys from Dale’s construction crew. Ariel’s friends from school. Ashley and her husband. George, with a red ribbon tied around his neck, works the crowd, looking for handouts. Dale’s old dog, Spike, doesn’t like other people or George, so we’ve left him at home. My mother is here, even though she has no idea what is going on, and Callie is never very far away.

The only photographer allowed on the premises is Melody Smith. She’s kept all of her promises so far, and we’ll keep feeding her exclusives. I get free wedding photos out of the deal, which is not a small thing. Despite all of the money now at my disposal, I can’t shake my background and can’t ever pass up a bargain.

To be honest, Dale and I aren’t crazy about the whole marriage thing. I’m afraid of jinxing our happiness. He feels like we’re succumbing to social pressure. Which, to be honest, we are. The whole custody issue goes away if we get married.

Ariel sent in her DNA samples, and the results confirmed that Dale is her father. Due to legalities, we ran a second, official test, which concurred. So he pretty much automatically has the right to custody, barring anything that makes him unfit. And if I’m married to him, then we both hold all assets and things are easy.

Ricken is spending his summer in court, along with his accountant ladylove, and prison looms large in his future. Turns out, they were both skimming so freely off Callie’s money that my new accounting team barely had to work at discovery. As for Shadow, he went dark as soon as the tide of public opinion turned against him. He sent an apology once, by text message. Ariel deleted it, unanswered. She doesn’t seem to miss him.

Not that everything is perfect, of course. Ariel is seventeen and considers herself an adult. It’s been a year since her mother’s death, and she still wakes up screaming sometimes from nightmares about that horse. She’s used to parenting herself, and there’s plenty of shouting between the two of us about rules. Dale stays calm about most things, and she’ll usually come around and do whatever he asks of her. When it comes to boys, though, he gets completely irrational and won’t listen to reason.

We’re a family now, with everything that means.

The music venture was Ariel’s idea. Once the honeymoon is over, we’ll be opening the doors to the Redfern Music School, a boarding academy for talented kids who wouldn’t get a chance any other way. We have to do something with the money, Ariel says, and we’re not going to use much of it living in Colville.

Her capable hands have been involved in everything to do with the school, from helping Dale with the construction plans to setting the criteria for scholarships and selecting students. I interviewed and hired three teachers. One for keyboard and guitar, one to teach composition, and one for voice. Looking at the student profiles, I’m thinking we may well need a counselor and a corrections officer, but Ariel insists that the music will win and they’ll work out okay. If they don’t appreciate the opportunity, she says, then out they go, and there are plenty more where they came from.

We’ve also put together a small but cutting-edge recording studio. I’ve written two more songs and Glynnis is pushing me to do an album. I’m not ready for that. I keep telling her maybe one of these days. In the meantime, I want to help other musicians with recording and some distribution. We’ll do it free up front, with a clause that if they start making money, a small percentage goes back into funding the project.

I’m not sure what Callie would think about any of this. I regret the lost opportunities to talk to her, to know what thoughts were going through her head after she told me that music was for everybody. But I’ve made peace with the uncertainty.

After the vows are said and Dale kisses me properly in front of all of the witnesses and claims me as his wife, we plan to make a break for it. I look around for Ariel, to hug her good-bye, but she’s nowhere to be seen. A dark cloud falls across my mood, and I start to wonder if she’s really okay with this whole wedding thing after all.

Then she reappears from around the corner of the house, four of my longtime students trailing after her, carrying guitars and an electronic drum kit.

Ariel runs over and hugs me, then Dale, then me again. “I had to give you something,” she says, laughing, “and this is all I could think of.”

Apparently Mr. Elliot was in on the planning, since he’s busy helping out with amps and cables and electrical cords. A minute of random music and testing, and then they launch into a blues-rock arrangement of “Closer Home,” Lexy’s clear voice belting the lyrics out into the summer day.

Dale’s fingers close around mine, warm and steady. He shoots me a look of concern, knowing this song is an emotional hand grenade for me. My eyes fill, but the tears are clean now, all of the jealousy long gone. In this moment, standing hand in hand with Dale beneath the blue, blue sky, Ariel at my side and all of the people I love gathered around, I finally understand the meaning of the words I wrote so many years ago.

The wider I wander, the further I roam

The more your love finds me

And brings me back home.

Closer home, closer home

You always bring me closer home.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Living with a writer is not always easy. My heartfelt thanks and much love to my Viking, whose support of my writing is phenomenal. I also owe a great deal to my writer friends. Alex, our morning sprints, motivational planning, and mutual commiseration sessions were lifesavers. Heather and Susan, I can always count on you guys to make me laugh, kick my butt, and be outraged on my behalf when things go wrong. I owe you. Thanks also to Kristina Martin for reading and for your ongoing support. If I start naming names for the rest of the incredible writing community I’m privileged to be a part of, I know I’ll forget people. Just know that every encouraging tweet or Facebook comment helped me keep writing, especially on the hard days.

This book would never have come to be without my gifted agent. Thank you, Deidre, for encouraging me to try something new and for believing in me. To the people who read for me at various stages of the manuscript—the Viking, Alexandra Hughes, Susan Spann, and Kristina Martin—your input and support was invaluable.

As always, thank you to everybody who supports and loves books. Because without you, what would be the point?

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Photo © 2012 Diane Maehl

Kerry Anne King holds a BA in English from York University and a M.Ed. in counseling psychology from Washington State University. She lives with her Viking in a little house surrounded by trees, the perfect place for writing books. Kerry spends her days working as an RN in a clinic, spinning her tales early in the morning and in the evenings after work. In addition to women’s fiction, she also writes fantasy and mystery novels as Kerry Schafer.