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She brought the song to an end, hitting an F instead of a C. She’d been concentrating so hard on the chord changes that she hadn’t made eye contact with the crowd, and she seemed startled when they began to applaud. He waited for her to flee. Instead, she moved closer to the microphone and said softly, “That song was for my friend, Mrs. Garrison.”
People in the audience began calling out for more. Dean smiled, and so did Blue. Riley stuck the guitar pick between her lips and retuned. With no regard for copyrights or the secrecy that always accompanied the release of a new Patriot song, Riley slipped into “Cry Like I Do,” one of the songs he’d been working on at the cottage. He couldn’t have been prouder. At the end, the crowd clapped, and she went into the Moffatts’ “Down and Dirty.” He realized her song choices were based more on whether she thought she could manage the chord changes than the song itself. This time when she finished, she said a simple thank-you and handed the guitar back, ignoring the crowd’s demand for an encore. Like any great performer, she was smart enough to get out while they wanted more.
Dean reached her first and stuck to her side as people gathered to compliment her. Riley had a hard time meeting anyone’s eyes. Mrs. Garrison looked as smug as if she’d been the one doing the singing. Blue couldn’t stop beaming, and April kept laughing.
Riley wouldn’t look at him. He remembered the e-mail he’d sent Dean when he’d been trying to understand why she was so secretive about her singing.
Figure it out for yourself, Dean had said.
At the time, he’d thought Riley was afraid he wouldn’t love her if she didn’t sing well enough, but he understood his daughter better now. She knew exactly how well she sang, and she wanted something entirely different.
As the crowd began to drift away, more people openly stared at him. Someone snapped his picture. A middle-aged woman edged over to him. “E-excuse me, but…Aren’t you Jack Patriot?”
Dean had seen it unf
olding, and he immediately appeared at her side. “How about giving him a break?”
The woman flushed. “I cain’t believe it’s him. Here in Garrison. What are you doin’ here, Mr. Patriot?”
“It’s a nice town.” He glanced past her to see Nita and Blue guarding Riley.
“Jack’s a friend of mine. He’s staying at my farm,” Dean said. “I know the thing he likes most about Garrison is having some privacy.”
“Sure, I understand.”
Somehow Dean managed to keep the rest of the curious onlookers away. Blue and April herded Nita toward her car. Dean nudged Riley toward her father and then disappeared, leaving her no choice but to approach. She looked so anxious that Jack’s heart ached. What if he was wrong about this? But he had no time for second-guessing. He gave her a quick peck on top of her head. She smelled like birthday cake. “You were great up there,” he said. “But I want a daughter, not some teenybopper rock star.”
Her head shot up. He held his breath. Her eyes turned into puddles of disbelief. “Really?” she said on a single long exhalation.
He’d come so far with her this summer, and the slightest misstep could wipe all that out. “I’m not saying I don’t want you to sing—that’s entirely up to you—but you need to keep a clear head about it. You have an amazing voice, but your real friends are the people who’d love you even if you couldn’t sing a note.” He paused. “Like me.”
Her dark brown eyes, so much like his, widened.
“Dean and April, too,” he said. “Blue. Even Mrs. Garrison.” He was laying it on thick, but he needed to make sure she was clear. “You don’t have to sing to earn anybody’s friendship. Or their love.”
“You know,” she whispered.
He pretended to misunderstand. “I’ve been in the business a lot of years. I’ve pretty much seen it all.”
Now she was getting worried. “But I can still sing for people, can’t I? After I don’t suck so much at the guitar.”
“Only if you want to. And only if you don’t let anybody judge who you are just by that voice of yours.”
“I promise.”
He wrapped his arm around her and drew her close. “I love you, Riley.”
Her cheek fell against his chest. “I love you, too, Dad.”
It was the first time she’d said the words.
They walked toward the car with their arms around each other. Just before they got there, she said, “Could we talk about my future? Not the singing, but school and where I’m going to live and all that.”
Right then, he knew exactly how he was going to handle this. “Too late,” he said. “I’ve already made up my mind.”
The old guarded look sprang back into her eyes. “That’s not fair.”
“I’m the dad, and I make the decisions. I hate to be the one to break the bad news, star baby, but you’re not getting anywhere near Aunt Gayle and Trinity no matter how much you beg.”
