Page 109 of Second Chance

“Is there a Mati Harrington in the house?” Voices lower and people shift as Denton calls out again. He shields his eyes against the stage light pointed upward to highlight the band and scans the crowd. Suddenly, I’m lifted around the waist.

“Billy,” I yell.

“Help me get her up there,” he barks to the nearest man. Griffin Duncan is a big guy, which makes sense considering his profession as a builder. He grabs my ankles, which kick out at my brother, hoping to be free of his constraints. Together, the two men hike me level with the bar before Griffin places my feet on the sticky surface, holding them down, so I don’t jump. Billy pushes my body upward.

“I hate you,” I mumble down at my brother as the partygoers eventually realize the commotion in the back is me. Whoops and hollers begin as I smooth down my dress and stomp my cowboy-boot covered feet on the wooden surface under me. It doesn’t feel very stable, so I’m afraid to move. I’m also caught in the glare of eyes up on stage, begging me to listen to him.

“Mati Harrington.” My name is a smile in his voice. His lip curls up at the corner.

“Guys…” He turns to the man at his right and nods to another sexy silver fox sitting behind a drum set. “This is Mati.”

A knowing smile comes from the drummer, who I recall is named Hank Paige. A smack to the arm comes from his cousin.

“Hello darlin’,” Tommy drawls into the mic, and the ladies in the crowd begin to scream. Shit, is that sexy. But my eyes haven’t left Denton.

“Blue Ridge,” Denton begins, pausing to take a deep breath. “I haven’t been a good son to you.” Old neighbors and long-ago friends settle a bit, understanding his meaning. A few awws pop the tension thickening the air. “But I owe this girl an apology more than any of you.” He laughs, and the audience chuckles a bit.

“I made a promise once, but I broke it. I left her behind.”

Oh my God. My heart races and my hand lifts to cover my own throat. The vein in my neck pulses double time.

“I actually made a promise to two people.” Denton sighs into the microphone. “So, I’m here to make good on the second one.”

My heart beats so fast I swear anyone near me can hear it. My throat clogs and I can’t swallow.

“I read the letter, Mati.”

No. No, no, no.

Words project in white against the dark curtain behind him. In a familiar scrawl I’ve read for almost thirty years is a single statement.

Take care of her.

Warm liquid rolls down my face and creeps around the corner of my mouth.

Damn Chris.

And damn Denton.

Drumsticks tap three times and a guitar strums, reawakening the awestruck crowd. Tommy Carrigan’s voice rouses the people into a song about caring for someone. I remain in a haze.

For all the town to see, my husband has given his permission. My dead husband gives his blessing to his best friend. Take care of me.

As the song plays, Denton speaks into the mic over the melody.

“This promise I intend to keep.”