Coming Home to You (23 page)

“We’ll work on him together.”

A knock on the study door made them both quickly wipe their eyes. “Yes? Come in,” Marianne said.

Her husband opened the door, looked at their tear-streaked faces and frowned in confusion. “What on earth is going on in here?”

“We’re having a party,” she said. She walked over and hugged him tightly, confusing him even more. “Kathryn and I have hatched a plan, but we need everyone here to talk about it. Where’s my darling son?”

“I have no idea. Isn’t he here?”

“We thought he was with you,” Marianne told her husband.

“No, I had to run to the club. I haven’t seen him.”

Marianne looked at Kate. Panic showed in her eyes, putting a knot in Kate’s stomach. “I don’t like this. Last night he was talking strangely. I’m afraid he’s thinking of doing something foolish.”

“What did he say?”

Kate never got an answer. The housekeeper came up then, alerting them that there was a reporter on the telephone wanting to speak with Mrs. Conner. “He wants to know if he can get a comment from the family before the press conference at ten,” the woman told her.

Marianne clutched her throat and screamed, “Merciful heavens,” but Kate didn’t hear. She was too busy listening to the anguishing sound of her dreams shattering into a million pieces.

“H
URRY, HURRY
!” Marianne shouted, but Kate was driving George Conner’s antique Cadillac as fast as she dared, considering she had no idea where she was going. She was a robot following directions. Turn left. Turn right. She swerved to avoid a car slowing to make the same turn, and she didn’t even look before she veered into the other lane.

The hotel where the reporter said he’d been told to be at ten wasn’t that far away, according to Marianne, but they were quickly running out of time. So much depended on getting there before James said anything.

What had he been thinking? If only he’d told her…

Marianne was on the verge of tears. “We’re not going to make it!”

“We’ll make it,” Kate said. But God help them all, she didn’t think they would. She squealed to a stop under the glass canopy of the Marriott, then jumped out and raced toward the door. Marianne surprised her by keeping up.

“Press conference?” she asked the valet.

“Meeting room C, upstairs.” He pointed at the escalator to the right of the lobby.

She handed him the keys to the Caddy and a twenty-dollar bill with instructions to park it. Both women took off at a jog.

“There,” Marianne said. When they reached the top of the escalator, they could see people with television cameras spilling out of a room into the hall. James’s voice came over the microphone.

“I appreciate your coming today on such short notice, but what I have to tell you is of extreme importance.”

Kate ran faster, leaving Marianne behind.

No, James! Don’t do it!

“There’s no good way to ease into this, so I’m just going to say it. James Hayes…is alive.”

Kate made the doorway just as the words left his mouth, and it was like hitting a brick wall. She stopped, unbelieving. She’d been too late. Too late!

Marianne came up beside her and clutched her hand for moral support. They waited, as did James, but the expected reaction didn’t materialize. No gasps. No shrieks of surprise. What they heard, instead, was a tinkling of laughter, starting in the back row and quickly spreading through the room.

“Good one,” somebody said.

A woman nearby leaned over and said to the man next to her, “The guy’s got a weird sense of humor.”

Kate and Marianne looked at each other, and a silent message of thanks and hope passed between them. The reporters thought James was simply breaking the ice before the real announcement. Kate quickly stepped in before James had a chance to do any more damage.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. She picked her way through the crowd to the front. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Kathryn Morgan and I’m
a biographer. I’m one of the people who asked you here today.”

James grabbed her arm. “Hold on a minute.”

“Oh, you’re right. I’m sorry. I forgot to introduce Bret’s mother. Mrs. Conner, will you come up here, please?” Heads turned and gazes went to the back of the room.

“Kate…” James said again as his mother hurried forward.

Kate pulled him away from the podium and used the time while the reporters were distracted to tell him about the letters and his mother’s idea. “That means you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

He drew back and looked at her in astonishment—and what she felt sure was relief.

“But the decision is yours,” she added. “You, more than any of the rest of us, will have to live with whatever action you take today. I can’t tell you what to do.”

“You’ll support me, whatever I say?”

“Whatever you say. Whatever you do. Nothing that happens here today can ever change what I feel for you.”

“Remind me when we get home to show you how much I love you.”

“Oh, I definitely will. You can count on it.”

Without hesitation he returned to the podium and told the reporters, “I’m going to step aside and let my mother and Ms. Morgan explain why you’re here today, since they’re overseeing this project.”

Marianne, under a barrage of flashes, took his place. James moved to the side of the room beyond the range of the cameras.

Kate leaned forward to the microphone again. “Thank you for coming. The Hayes family and I have a major announcement about my forthcoming book on James Hayes and his band, Mystic Waters. We wanted to share this with the media in the family’s hometown and give you the opportunity to have the story first. You’ll be scooping everyone. Isn’t that delicious?”

That brought chuckles.

“Through the generosity of the family, certain letters have been placed at my disposal. These are letters written by James Hayes to his mother from the time he was a child up until his death. Not only are the letters insightful and very personal, they contain original poems and drawings.” Inspiration hit her. “And they include songs never before published.”

“Songs?” someone blurted out. A ripple of excitement went through the room.

Kate glanced at Marianne who, despite her surprise at Kate’s wild announcement about the songs, had the good sense to smile and act as if she knew exactly what was going on.

“Yes, songs no one’s ever seen or heard.”

A lady raised her hand. “How many songs?”

“I haven’t counted them, but I would estimate several hundred. And you’ll be particularly delighted to know he composed several complete symphonies during his lifetime, as well.”

The excited reporters scrambled to ask questions. Kate let them for a while and then silenced them with her hand.

“I know you’re all interested in the songs, but until the family decides if they’ll be recorded, they’ve
asked me not to release them in written form.” A collective groan of disappointment echoed through the room. “However, I did bring one of the early letters. James wrote it when he was only nineteen and on his first road tour. He was wonderfully naive and impressionable. Would you like to hear it?”

She received an overwhelming response. Taking the letter from her pocket, she unfolded it and handed it to Marianne.

“Would you mind, since it was addressed to you?”

Marianne slipped on her glasses, cleared her throat and began. “‘Dear Mom. A short note this time. We’re on the bus, somewhere in Virginia—I think—and headed to Indiana. The land here is a lot like Tennessee, with hills reaching right up into the clouds and miles and miles of nothing but trees.

“‘It’s not all pretty, though. Lots of people live in houses that a good wind might blow away, and I don’t know how they stay warm. Makes me feel sad and kind of guilty, too. I’m spending all that money on the castle and these people have so little. But you’ve been poor, too, and you deserve something nice, so don’t mind my crazy talk. I remember what it was like after Dad died and you had to give up the place on Tennessee Avenue. I don’t want you to ever feel that bad again.

“‘When you get a chance, let me know how the house is coming along, okay? Or take some pictures if you think of it.

“‘Did you see anything about the Richmond concert on the news? You wouldn’t believe how the fans treated us! Like we were royalty or something, although they got a little crazy and wouldn’t stay behind
the barriers. Malcolm thinks I shouldn’t stop and talk to them anymore because it causes security problems, but I hate not to do it. That’s the only reason I’m here—the fans. I want them to know how much I appreciate them listening to my music.

“‘I feel bad about missing Bret’s birthday, but I’m glad he liked the electric guitar. He wants to join me on tour for a few days during spring break, but he’s afraid you won’t allow it. Will you please say yes? I swear I won’t let anything happen to him. Malcolm will be watching him, too, and you know what a good guy he is. I’ll ask Malcolm to call you soon, so think about it. I’d really like Bret to come. I don’t know when I’ll get home again and I miss him. I miss all of you so much.

“‘It’s lonely on the road. The guys are great, but being together all the time is rough. We fight about stupid things. Webb wrote a couple of songs and I don’t think they’re good enough to use, and neither do Billy and Tyler. So now Webb’s mad at all of us. Lenny’s acting weird, too. He doesn’t seem to ever sleep. But don’t say anything to his grandmother, because I don’t want her to worry about him. We’ll all be okay after a break.

“‘Well, I’d better go. Tell George and Ellen I love them and hope to see them soon. I love you, too, Mom. I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to call, but maybe I can find a minute on the bus to write again. I promise I’ll try hard. Love, Jamie.”’

When Marianne finished, Kate stepped back up to the microphone.

“That’s a small sampling of what you’ll see in the book, words straight from the heart by a man who
cared deeply about his fans, missed his family and had to deal with the guilt of success at a very young age. He wasn’t perfect, just very human like the rest of us. He made mistakes, and he paid for them in a very tragic way. But I want to remind everyone in this room—James Hayes was a genius. He was truly one of the greatest musical talents we’ll ever see, and I think that’s much more important than any problems he might have had in the last few years of his life. I thank all of you for coming today. I hope to see you again when the book is released next year. If you have further questions, I’ll stay and answer them individually.”

That ended the press conference. Mrs. Conner took her husband’s car back to the house so she could give him the good news in person, but Kate stayed and gave one-on-one interviews to anyone who asked, hoping the photographers would use photos and video of her, rather than James, in their reports.

After forty-five minutes, the reporters packed up their gear and left Kate and James alone in the room. Kate closed the doors so they couldn’t be overhead by the hotel staff.

“That seemed to go okay,” she told him, coming to stand in front of him. He remained in the spot where he’d listened to the remainder of the press conference. He leaned with his back against the wall, his hands in his pockets. “I’ve got to admit I’m a bit put out with you, though. Why didn’t you tell me what you planned to do?”

“I was worried about what would happen to you if you didn’t go through with the book. I overheard you talking on the phone with Marcus last night.”

Kate sighed. “Is that what brought this on? My argument with my stupid brother?”

“Partly.” He straightened and ran a hand through his hair. “Boy, I can’t believe the scene in here today. I guess I’m lucky this whole thing didn’t blow up in my face.”

“We’re all lucky. This could have been a disaster. But I think everything’s going to work out fine. I can weave my background material between the letters and produce a book that’s almost autobiographical. It won’t be exactly the one I set out to write, but it’ll be an honest portrayal of your life, and that’s all I ever wanted to do.”

“I had no idea Mom kept my letters.”

“We had a great time going through them this morning.”

“What will your publisher and editor say about this switch?”

“They’ll be thrilled to have exclusive rights to print the material, and since it comes from your mother, its authenticity is above question. The book’ll sell like wildfire.”

“And you’ll make a fortune.”

“No, I want to give what I make to your foundation. Maybe we can use it to build another ranch for the children.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I want to. With the royalties from the book and your songs, we can support
both
foundations. Think of all the wonderful things we can do.”

“That sounds great.” His forehead furrowed. “But I’m confused about the songs. I don’t remember sending
any, and even if I did, it sure wouldn’t have been several hundred.”

“You didn’t. I lied about that part.”

He cocked his head. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? Those are new songs, not old ones.”

“Does it really matter when they were written? They’re still
your
songs. You said you wished people could hear the ones you’ve composed in the last several years. Well, here’s a way. You can continue to compose songs for as long as you want, and we can even find someone to record them for you. We can see about having someone produce your symphonies, too, if that’s okay. Is that okay?”

She laughed at the slow grin that spread across his face as he realized the implications of what she was saying.

“I thought it might be. Think how perfect this is. You get to compose and have your songs recorded, but you don’t have to
live
as James Hayes. It really is the perfect solution.”

“It sounds wonderful but—” the grin vanished and was replaced with a worried look “—you lied for me today. You implicated yourself by getting up there and not telling the truth. And you’ll have to continue to lie to your brother, won’t you? Or do you plan to tell him?”

“No, I don’t plan to tell him or anybody. When I weigh the public’s right to know against your right to live normally, I’m sure I’m doing the morally correct thing. You and your family are the only victims of your masquerade, James.”

“But if somebody uncovers it one day—”

“Even if they do, which I don’t think is ever going to happen, it won’t matter. Nobody can hurt us now.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because you told me something fourteen years ago that changed my life, and I believe it as strongly today as I did then.”

“What did I say?”

“You said…people can’t hurt you unless you give them the power to hurt you. And you’re right. We have to refuse to give anybody the power to hurt us. We’re together. And we’re going to stay together forever, no matter what happens. Let them take their best shot at us if they want to, but it won’t do any good.”

He put his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “I like that ‘together’ part a whole lot.”

“Me, too.” She kissed him, then leaned her head on his chest. “We’ll go forward and not look back.”

“I want that, Kate, but there’s one thing I still have to do. I can’t live with a shadow hanging over my life.”

“I know.”

“Will you come, too?”

“If you need me.”

He hugged her more tightly. “I’ll always need you.”