My stomach rumbled in protest, and I wanted to chase after her with the serving spoon overflowing with mayonnaise-coated potatoes. But eggs were a main ingredient in mayo, so vegan Nicole wouldn’t eat it.
My gaze fell to Nicole’s figure. On her dating profile, under body type, she’d clickedvoluptuous, (Betsy had suggestedotherwith an added comment about being none of the perverts’ business) and though the actual definition fit, I hesitated at what people would perceive that to mean.
Nicole was full. Full of life. Full of enthusiasm. Full of conviction. My coworkers might glance at her plate and think her meager meal due to a diet, but being vegan was a lifestyle choice based on animal rights and ecology, not an attempt to shed pounds.
Ben scooted closer to Molly to give me room on the loveseat they shared. He slipped his arm across her back and rested his hand on her hip, pulling her even closer. Molly leaned her head to the side and laid her temple on his shoulder. She sighed contentedly.
I looked away, giving them privacy. They’d both come a long way in their individual journeys—Ben losing his wife and raising his preschool daughter alone while finishing his family medicine residency, and Molly coming to a place of belonging after the unpredictability of her childhood—to find themselves now walking the road together. Ben had someone he could lean and rely on, and Molly had a family and a home to call her own. Well, maybe not quite her own yet, but by the way the two looked at each other, rings and vows were just around the corner.
Gran emerged from the house carrying a guitar case. “Nate, why don’t you play us a few songs?”
Nate’s ever-present smile dimmed until all the brightness in his chronically teasing expression turned off. The playful Thomas brother blanched as Gran extended her arm to hand him the instrument.
“I…I’m sure no one wants to hear me right now, Gran. Maybe later.”
Nate stutter? The same guy who’d strutted around like a peacock wrangler and spouted off cowboy nonsense our first day here?
As if an internal radar had been planted in my chest and locked on to Malachi’s position, my head swiveled toward him. He stood against a porch post on the periphery of the group. Watching, listening, but not taking an active part in the get together. His spine straightened as Nate tried to deter Gran again about the guitar.
“Play us something, Nate,” Bill encouraged. The others joined in, perhaps thinking Nate shy of the stage and in need of reassurance. Seriously, had they not met the man?
I continued to watch Malachi watch Nate. Could no one else feel the tension like a cord pulling taut between these two? Malachi’s gaze honed like I’d only ever seen him do with the animals. Usually his deep-brown eyes only connected for a moment. A delicious taste before he blinked to look elsewhere.
A strumming of a chord pulled my focus from one brother to the other. Pain furrowed deep grooves along Nate’s forehead. He closed his eyes, hands moving in unison but independently of each other, one pressing strings along frets, the other strumming. A sweet sound swirled around us all, as if he were plucking at our hearts instead of guitar strings. After a deep inhale, he opened his mouth and a beautiful melody escaped. The words and the rich tone of Nate’s voice seeped into my skin, raising gooseflesh along my arms.
This man couldn’t just sing. He could saaang!
After a few breath-holding minutes, the song drew to a close and the last note hung in the air. The wind carried the final strands away, and applause broke out.
“That was amazing.” Amanda clapped. “Right, Betsy?”
Betsy eyed Nate as the man lowered his guitar back into the case. “You’re quite good. Have you ever considered going professional?”
That radar inside me beeped. Why else would my eyes swing back around to Malachi?
He took half a step closer. Nate noticed the slight movement as well, his eyes widening at his brother as if…as if to say he was sorry?
Nate looked back to Betsy. “That’s nice of you to say, ma’am.”
Amanda hooted. “Betsy never says anything nice. Believe me. She’s the female version of Simon Cowell and would tell you if you had a voice only your mother would love.”
Betsy grinned, proud of her sour reputation. “It’s true. I’m a sound engineer, so I know what I’m talking about. You should think about it.”
“Nate went to Nashville to pursue a record deal.” Miriam beamed.
Then why was he here at the Double B now? The question danced like the flames in the fire pit, casting shadows across every face, more than a dozen pairs of eyes trained on Nate, waiting for an answer.
“Were you able to touch base with any of the producers there?” Betsy interrupted the increasingly uncomfortable silence.
“I…uh…” Nate stood. “I need to feed the horses.” He turned and fled.
14
Malachi
Not this time. Nate wasn’t going to escape again without an explanation. He’d been home for over a month without stringing enough words together to convey a plausible reason why he’d returned with his tail tucked between his legs. Time had come for him to face the music, so to speak.
For goodness’ sake, we were family! Family stuck together. Supported each other. They didn’t hide away whatever they’d gone through and lick their wounds on their own. If some hoity-toity, big-shot producer had told Nate he wasn’t good enough for a record deal, then okay. Nate had been bucked off plenty of horses before. He’d never been too afraid to remount after dusting himself off. He just needed to get back in the music-business saddle was all. And if he needed a leg up, I’d be there to give it to him. Same with Gran and Miriam.
