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Tulsi tugged her cell from her back pocket, dialing her dad’s number as she loaded the last of the rope into her wheelbarrow and went back for the metal stands.
“Grandpa Central,” her father answered, sounding upbeat for a man who’d been watching a high-energy six-year-old all day.
“Hey, Dad. Thanks for the help today. I’m almost done, and I’ll be by to get Clem in an hour. Can you make sure she has her things ready to go?”
“I thought you two were sleeping here tonight,” her father said, a frown in his voice. “Clementine made me put fresh sheets on the top bunk and she has all those weird dolls of hers tucked into the bottom one. We already picked out bedtime stories.”
“I’m so sorry, but we can’t, Dad.” Tulsi sighed as she lugged one heavy metal stand toward the wheelbarrow. She’d told Clem three times that they weren’t staying at Grandpa’s, but her daughter wasn’t a fan of listening to things she didn’t want to hear. “Clem’s leaving for camp tomorrow. We have to go home and get her packed. But we’ll come stay the week after the wedding. She’s dying to go on a trail ride before school starts.”
“I guess the fresh sheets will keep,” her dad grumbled. “But you two shouldn’t be on your own. I know how scatterbrained you are, Tulsi. Half the time you forget to lock the front door.”
“I do not, Dad.” Tulsi rolled her eyes. “Clem and I are fine at Bubba’s.”
“Just don’t leave the stove on again,” her dad continued, clearly determined to bring up every minor mistake Tulsi had made in the past six years. “And bring me that stereo system you stole when you moved out. With your mom gone on her trip, the house is too damned quiet.”
“I’ll bring the stereo over soon.”Herstereo, the one her mom had given her for her birthday last year, but there was no point arguing about it. “And Clem and I will make lots of noise next week. I promise.”
Her dad sighed. “Well, all right. Hopefully, I’ll still be alive by then…”
Tulsi lifted her eyes to the heavens and prayed for patience. “You’re as healthy as a horse, Daddy. See you soon.” She ended the call before her father could lay the guilt on any thicker.
When she’d been living with her parents, her father had made no secret of the fact that he found it embarrassing to have a grown daughter living at home. But ever since Tulsi and Clem had moved into Bubba’s house, while he was on tour with his band, Dad had been acting like an abandoned puppy.
A cranky puppy, with a tendency to bite.
There was no pleasing the man, something she should have learned a long time ago. Since the day she’d told her parents she was pregnant at eighteen with no potential husband in the picture, as far as Dale Hearst was concerned, Tulsi had been able to do no right. He’d supported her throughout the pregnancy and beyond, but he’d done it all with a disappointed grit to his jaw. Even as he spoiled Clementine rotten—doting on her in a way he never had his own daughters—he treated Tulsi like a prized filly who’d gone lame the night before her first race.
She was grateful her father didn’t punish Clem for what he saw as Tulsi’s failure, but it would have been nice not to be a disappointment in the first place. Having her daughter so young had been hard, but she’d never regretted keeping Clementine. She loved her baby girl with every piece of her heart and she put everything she had into being the best parent she could be. Tulsi couldn’t understand how anyone—especially her own father—could see that as failing.
But Dad had never been the easiest man to get along with, which made Tulsi grateful to have a place of her own, even if it was only until Bubba came back to town.
She finished stacking the last of the metal stands into the wheelbarrow and with a glance at her watch to make sure she was still on schedule, rolled it down the street. She unloaded at the visitor’s center—stacking the stands and ropes in the back room—and delivered the wheelbarrow back to the gardener’s shed. Finally, after one last check-in with the head of the cleanup crew, Tulsi grabbed her purse from the old general store and hustled down the dusty street at a trot, ignoring the pain shooting through her aching feet.
In an effort to be festive, she’d worn her new brown boots with skinny jeans and a sparkly brown tank top. This morning, dressing up had seemed like a good idea, but now she wished she’d stuck with her comfy work boots. After two days of running around the ghost town fetching water for the talent, carrying amps, and being Mia’s right hand woman while her best friend kept all the concert balls in the air, Tulsi felt bruised from the kneecaps down.
She already regretted rescheduling all of her clients for Tuesday in preparation for Mia’s wedding festivities. When she was planning out her week last Friday, taking every day off but one had seemed like a scandalous indulgence. Now, she had a feeling she was going to need more than a day to recover from the excitement of the weekend.
By the time she made it through the ghost town gates and across the now empty parking lot, she was in pain. By the time she had power-walked a mile down the old highway to where the volunteers had parked under a small grove of Chinese Pistache trees, she couldn’t keep the grimace from her face.
The boots had to go. Stat.
Tulsi dropped the truck’s tailgate and hopped up to sit on top, moaning with relief as she tugged off her boots and socks and let her bare toes wiggle in the breeze. The desert wind was warm, but it was cooler under the shade trees than anywhere else she’d been today. For the first time in hours, she felt the sweat beading around her hairline begin to dry. With a sigh, she lay back in the truck bed with her hands laced behind her head, watching the green leaves sway against the pink and purple sky.
It had been so long since she’d taken a moment to watch the world go by. She couldn’t help being reminded of those evenings in Springfield, when she and Pike would take a quilt out to the hay field behind Aunt Willa’s house and lie staring up at the sky for hours. They did their share of making out, but there were times when they simply held hands and watched the clouds drift by. Times when they stared up at the stars while they whispered about the things they were hopeful for, the things they feared, and the dreams they were certain were about to come true.
Fast forward seven years and all of Pike Sherman’s dreamshadcome true, and then some. He was the star pitcher for the St. Louis Cardinals, making more money than God, and had a rich, fulfilling life far from Lonesome Point. He dated models and movie stars, vacationed in Bora Bora, and had bought his mother a BMW convertible for her fiftieth birthday. He rarely saw his father and avoided pressure to come home for Christmas by flying his family to his ranch in Montana for the holidays. Mia said he had a mansion, a stable full of horses he paid people to ride during baseball season, and a tree house with heat and running water, where their much younger cousins camped out on Christmas Eve.
And soon, in a fancy tent not far from here, that man who had everything would be schmoozing with people who had paid two hundred dollars a ticket for the pleasure of shaking his hand.
Pike was living big, but Tulsi wouldn’t exchange places with him for a million dollars. She might not have fame or wealth, but she had things that were more precious. She had an amazing little girl, wonderful friends, good work, and a hometown where she felt safe. Life…was perfect.
It didn’t matter that her two best friends were getting married and moving on with their lives while Tulsi was still alone. It didn’t matter that Bubba had left Lonesome Point and she would only see him on special occasions or that she was about to lose the job that had given her more satisfaction than anything she’d ever done, with the exception of raising Clem.
Everything was going to be fine. Better than fine.
The leaves blurred before her eyes, but Tulsi sucked her lips between her teeth and bit down. She wasn’t going to cry. She and Clem had their health and each other, and at least Mia and Sawyer were going to stay in Lonesome Point after they were married. Things were still good. Or at least they could be a whole lot worse.
The thought was barely through her head when she heard Mia’s voice calling from the road.
