Page 78 of Hauling Ashe

I spin to face my son and bite my tongue. “I am here for Julia. I just need a minute.”

“It’s fine,” my daughter says, turning from her brother to me. “It can wait a few more minutes. We’ll find Mach first.” She hesitates as she looks back at Jude.

“You’ve already been waiting. This is bullshit. He can go now and find Mach later.” I’m not surprised at my son’s tone, but I am surprised he’d brush off Mach. He has an affinity for him. He is his uncle after all, and we share a strange bond between the three of us.

“It’s okay,” Julia says, patting her brother’s chest while giving me a second cautious glance. Taking a deep breath, I exhale.

“No, it’s fine. You’re right. Show me your surprise, Jellybean, and I’ll find Mach in a few minutes.” I figure the sooner I get this over with, the faster I can get to Mach. Then, I’ll politely excuse myself and get Mach on the task of stopping Mae from driving too far away. Julia leads me into a small wine bar with a scattering of tables. I hear the bellowing laugh of a man where a few tables are pushed together and then see the face of someone I haven’t seen in almost thirty years. A few heads turn at the table as well and I stare directly into my past.

Seated there are Lawson Colt, Denton Chance, and Hank Paige…my old band.

+ + +

I just stand there and stare, uncertain how to address them or what to say to them or why they are even present.

“Lawson?” I question first. With hair slicked back and down his neck, he looks every bit like himself only grayer, fuller but more solid than fat. He stands and holds out a large hand.

“Long time, Ashe,” he states, his Southern drawl apparent. “And I go by Tommy Carrigan now. Just me being me.”

I blink as we clasp hands and shake. He pulls me into a hug and the unfamiliarity of him has me stiffening when I don’t mean to. He releases me and steps back allowing me a look at the next man.

“Tucker,” Denton Chance says formal and tight. He holds out a hand as well and we shake, more businesslike. He looks as he did when we were eighteen with his model-worthy cut cheeks and bright eyes. He’s also more solid or has he just filled out from the lanky stage of teenagers? His hair is lightened as well. We’ve all aged.

Finally, Hank Paige stands. He looks almost exactly the same with a solid frame and a powerful smile. He is slightly younger than us and I remember considering him a kid when I was all of twenty-two at our first meeting. “Don’t know if you remember me?” he states, holding out his hand next. Our time together was short in the transition from Colt45 to Chrome Teardrops. I hadn’t played with the shifting band when Hank had been a new hire.

“What are you all doing here?” The vineyard is rented for the sole purpose of the wedding. Everyone present is supposed to be from the guest list, which is relatively small. The intimate collection mainly includes Chopper’s family, which is bigger than ours, and the couple’s friends.

The men look at one another as they clearly know something I don’t. “Well, Chopper is my nephew,” Hank explains first. “Julia is going to be part of my family.”

I hear what he’s saying, but I’m struggling to comprehend. All this time, my daughter has been around him. He’s the man I never inquired about and here he is. It’s all surreal.

“Hank and I reconnected a few years ago,” Lawson—Tommy—adds, clapping Hank on the shoulder and squeezing him. “Our wives are good friends.”

“You’re married?” Of course, they’d be married. It’s been twenty-something years. Still, the dots are difficult to connect as Tommy was a self-proclaimed bachelor and Hank was in love with Tommy’s sister, Kit Carrigan. Their lead singer.

The memory of Kit hits hard. She died too young of breast cancer. I remember it making the news. Rochelle had been a fan of her female-empowerment movement to never marry. The father of her child had an overdose when Kit was practically a child herself.

“Got married four years ago last New Year’s,” Tommy proudly states.

“It will be four years this August for me.” Hank clarifies. He nods at a man standing off to the side. He’s not as bulky as Hank and his hair is solid white but he isn’t much older than us. I instantly see the resemblance to Chopper who has been standing nearby as well.

“Brut.” He offers. “Brut Paige, father of the groom.” He smiles and I introduce myself in the same manner as father of the bride.

“Groom,” says his son, patting his chest while smiling at me with a goofy grin and pride in his voice. The idea he’s getting married, and to my daughter, practically makes his tattoos glow. He steps forward, greets me, and tugs me into a hug.

“Don’t be upset,” he whispers next. “She did it with love.”

In the moment, I both appreciate his words of support and his attempt to relieve tension, but I’m also still confused. Chopper releases me and steps over to Julia, circling his arms around her from the back. They’re cute together and I’d focus on them more if I could wrap my head around these other men being present.

“I think Dad is a little stunned,” Julia says, her voice high and tense.

Stunned does even begin to describe how I’m feeling. “I still don’t understand.”

“Brut is Hank’s older brother. And I know you didn’t play in their band officially, but you did play with Tommy and Denton,” Julia clarifies my own history to me. “And as they’re friends—Brut, Hank, and Tommy—we spend a lot of time with them. Denton and Mati live in Blue Ridge, but I thought it’d be nice to reunite you all. For my wedding.”

Blue Ridge. The town is so familiar, but I suddenly can’t place it.

Julia licks her lips nervously. “And play something.”