Lost Melody (11 page)

He tamped down on the frustration
boiling beneath the surface. Pushing her too fast wasn’t going to
work. He needed to slow things down or he would lose her for sure.
More than ever, losing her was not an option. What had began as a
practical arrangement just a few days ago had quickly become more.
He took a deep, calming breath and let it out. He still had three
weeks to convince her they would be good together, and he would use
every minute of it if necessary.

“How about I throw a backyard party
this weekend for the gang?” he offered. “I can invite my entire
graduating class, all twenty-five of them and their assorted
spouses and children. You can do your own version of grilling them
while I grill burgers and hot dogs.”

She palmed the dampness from her
cheeks. “You don’t need to go to so much trouble. I can meet with
some of them individually and get plenty of material.”

“That would take a lot of time.” Time
he didn’t want her to be away from him. “And you would have to hear
the same stories over and over. You can hear them as a group and
conduct individual interviews on the side. Believe me, there's no
end to the number of embarrassing stories they can come up
with.”

“Do you think they’ll
come?”

“Sure. I’ve known most of them my
whole life. They’ll come. Of course, I reserve the right to tell my
own stories about them. They can’t get off Scot-free for
embarrassing the life out of me.”

“Okay. Let’s do it, but I insist on
buying the food.”

Chapter Seven

Guests began arriving well before
lunch on Saturday. Hank and his father set up makeshift tables
under the oak and pecan trees in the backyard while Mel took charge
of the paper plates, napkins, and plastic utensils.

Hank’s pool-playing buddy, Chris,
arrived with his family and a giant galvanized tub they filled with
ice and sodas so everyone could help themselves. Despite his
insistence they needn’t bring anything, no one arrived
empty-handed. She had never seen so many varieties of potato salad
in her life. The dessert table held enough sweets to put an entire
army into a sugar coma. Homemade pies, cakes, cookies of every
description, and delectable treats from Cathy’s bakery tempted her
the entire day.

The men took turns cooking, filling
soft springtime air with the mouth-watering aroma of charcoal and
flame-grilled meat. People came and went. They arrived after work,
following their children’s Little League game, or as an excuse to
get out of mowing the lawn.

She had never seen anything like it.
It was a party, yet it held none of the awkwardness she expected.
Though unrelated by blood, they were a family—close-knit by the
commonality of growing up together in a small town and sharing a
classroom from Kindergarten to high school graduation.

Hank made sure she met every new
arrival, snaking his arm around her waist in a possessive way that
insured her acceptance as a friend. Everyone seemed eager to talk,
and stories flew so fast she scrambled to keep up. She used Hank’s
office to conduct individual interviews with the people he
indicated were particularly close to him. She talked to girls he’d
kissed under the cottonwood trees along the creek and guys he’d
shared girly magazines with in the back of the school bus. He
censored nothing. Knowing what a private person he was, his
openness humbled her.

As the last guest waved their
farewell, she sank into a lawn chair. Hank fell into the one next
to her. They sat for a long time, listening to night music provided
by crickets and frogs.

“
I’m glad that’s over.”
Hank rolled his head to look at her. “Did you get
enough?”

She chuckled. “I have enough stories
to write two books. Hank Travis, Boy Wonder, and Hank Travis, Hero
of Willowbrook.”

Silence stretched between them. After
a while, she glanced in his direction. The hard set of his jaw, the
thin line of his lips betrayed his feelings. He pushed to his feet
and began to gather the stray cups and plates, tossing them into a
large trash can with more force than necessary.

“
Hank, I’m kidding.
Everyone in town thinks you walk on water, but I can sort through
the hyperbole to find the truth. It’s a credit to your good nature
that you let them go on the way they did. A few of them had better
watch out. You have a justifiable case of whopper-telling against
them.”

He paused, paper plate in hand. “I
have never in my life heard such blatant lies as I heard today. I
should have put a stop to it hours ago.” He took his frustration
out on the plate, slamming it into the garbage.

She stood. “Yet, you never once
stopped them or told them to keep quiet.” She took the two steps to
bring her face to face with him and placed her hand on his chest.
“They’re your friends. You wouldn’t embarrass them by correcting
them in public. You’re a good man, Hank Travis.”

“I really did want to pound a few
heads today, so I’m not as good as you seem to think.”

“Yes, you are, Hank. You wouldn’t hurt
a fly. I know that, now.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. He
held her close in the deep shadow of the oak’s sweeping branches.
She closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of him against her, his
strong arms folded around her. She felt safe, protected, in his
embrace. His shirt smelled of charcoal and mesquite from the grill,
but inhaling deeply she detected the subtle musk, the distinctive
scent that was Hank. His heart beat strong beneath her ear, and
desire pooled low in her belly. Shocked at her unwanted reaction,
she pushed out of his arms. He let her go.

“Let’s get this mess cleaned up,” she
said.

They worked together, collecting
scattered debris and carting dirty dishes into the kitchen. It was
late when they finished, and he offered to drive her into
town.

Not really wanting the evening to end,
but knowing it had to, she accepted the ride. They rode in virtual
silence, enjoying the night air through open windows.

He walked her to her door. “I’m
exhausted,” she as she fished her house key from her
purse.

“Me, too.”

“Do you mind if we take tomorrow off?”
she asked. It was getting harder and harder to keep an emotional
buffer between them, and after today she wasn’t even sure she
wanted to anymore. She felt like a planet orbiting his sun, drawing
closer and closer with each new thing she learned about him. If she
didn’t find a way to distance herself soon…

“If it’s what you want,” he said,
pulling her close. He didn’t try to kiss her, and a part of her
thought that was a good thing while another part prayed he
would.

“I think we should.”

He hugged her tight. “Okay. Just
remember it was your idea. I’ll see you on Monday.”

* * *

She set her voice recorder on the
nightstand and snuggled under the handmade quilt she had picked up
at the Methodist Church bizarre. She played back the recording from
earlier in the week. Her skin tingled just listening to the smooth
timbre of his voice. Things had been going so well, and then she’d
lost control of yet another interview.

There was a gap on the
tape, and her memory filled in the words before she heard them.
“
For this
.” The
tape went silent again, except for the faint rustling of clothing.
Tears formed as she remembered the joy of being in his arms, the
heat of his body, the feel of his arousal grinding against
her.

The bedside phone rang, jolting her
from her memories. She grabbed the handset. “Hello.”

“I need to see you
tomorrow.”

“Hank,” she protested. “We agreed to
take tomorrow off.”

“Come to Dallas with me. I’ll leave
the dog with Dad, and we’ll spend the day together. No interviewing
allowed.”

She was tempted. “Is is possible? I
mean, to be out in public?”

“Sure. No one expects to find you in
Dallas, and with a haircut like mine, no one will recognize
me.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about
the haircut.” She smiled even though he couldn’t see
her.

“Yeah. It’s something isn’t it? Judd
has been cutting my hair all my life. I’ll let it grow out before I
go on tour again. When I get back from a tour, the first thing I do
is go see Judd. He fixes me right up. Instant disguise. So, will
you go with me tomorrow? We’ll just be a pretty girl and a nerd out
on the town.”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight. Dress
casual.” He hung up before she could argue further.

* * *

Hank accelerated up the freeway on
ramp, and she panicked. “Are you sure no one will recognize
us?”

He glanced over his shoulder, moved
into the left lane, and shifted his attention to her. “No, I’m not
sure no one will recognize me. I do have friends, and there are
fans who might pick me out of a crowd, but for the most part, I
don’t expect to be noticed at all. Have you ever seen someone in a
mall or at a ballgame and thought you recognized them but you
couldn’t place where you knew them from?”

She nodded. “I have. I saw a guy in
the grocery store once and I knew I had seen him before. It drove
me crazy for days until I saw him on TV. He was the weather guy on
one of the local stations.”

“Once in a while I get that look, and
sometimes the person will come up to me. If they don’t come up with
my name, and sometimes even if they do, I just shake my head and
say, nah, you have the wrong guy.”

“And it works?”

“Ninety-nine percent of the time. But
don’t worry. I doubt we’ll see anyone today who would recognize me,
and as long as you don’t shout your name out loud, no one will know
who you are either.”

“You never said where we’re going. Am
I dressed okay?”

“Shorts are perfect. I thought we
would go to the Dallas Arboretum. I saw it on the news the other
day. They said the flowers should be in bloom this
week.”

“I love flowers!”

“So, I did good?”

“You did excellent.”

“What else do you like, Mel
Harper?”

She discovered they both loved Mexican
food, snow skiing, and Willie Nelson, then the conversation moved
on to the worst restaurants they’d ever been in, and their favorite
movies and books.

They strolled hand-in-hand along the
Paseo de Flores at the Arboretum and took pictures of the blooming
azaleas, tulips, daffodils, and dogwoods. Hank stopped another
couple and asked them to take a photograph of the two of them with
his cell phone camera, surrounded by spring blooms.

Later, Hank took her to an inexpensive
Mexican restaurant where they stuffed themselves with all their
favorite dishes before they headed back to Willowbrook. It had been
the most perfect date she had ever been on. Spending time with Hank
was like being with a best friend. Conversation came easy and he
seemed to enjoy a few minutes of silence to take everything in as
much as she did.

“I had a great time, but I’m
exhausted. Plus, I ate too much.” She yawned. “I need a
nap.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wake you when we get
home.”

“I’ll just close my eyes for a few
minutes.”

He selected a Willie Nelson CD from
his collection and turned the volume down low. He hadn’t driven
five miles before the music and the droning of tires on pavement
lulled her to sleep. She bore more resemblance to the little girl
he’d seen in the internet photos when she was sleeping. Her lips
parted slightly, and her head rolled to one side. He moved into the
far right lane and slowed to well below the speed limit. Getting
home at a particular time didn’t mean anything, but spending time
with her, even if she was asleep, did.

He took the long way back to
Willowbrook, and when he cut the engine in front of her house about
an hour later than they had anticipated, she didn’t stir. Slumped
against the passenger side door, her breathing was slow and even.
In the light of the street lamp, he could just make out her long
lashes feathered over pale cheeks. He watched her sleep until he
worried a nosy neighbor might alert the police to a strange vehicle
parked in front of Mel’s house. It was late, but not too late for
someone in the neighborhood to be out walking a dog or coming home
after a movie.

He remembered her words the
other day, “
I don’t sleep well at
night
.” Well, she was sleeping now, and he
hated to disturb her.

Her purse sat on the seat between
them. He found her house key and eased out of the truck cab. After
unlocking the front door, he returned for his sleeping
beauty.

He released the seatbelt and scooped
her into his arms. She curled against his chest like a kitten
seeking warmth. Lord, it felt good to hold her. There was something
about her that made him throw good sense to the wind. He placed a
kiss on the top of her head. Her hair smelled of roses, and an
errant strand tickled his nose.