Somebody's Baby

  “Sara Beth is back in the hospital.”

  Dawson had been driving home from a long workday when Lani had called. He was tired, but the sound of Lani’s voice lifted his spirits, even though it wasn’t just one of her hello-how-are-you calls. “Aw, babe, I’m really sorry.” He knew how fond she was of the child in her care at St. Jude’s, and he didn’t want her to go into a downward spiral over the death of this child, Sara Beth.

  “When she went home in July, I had hoped she’d beaten the Beast this time.”

  “Wish I was there to cheer you up.”

  “Me too.”

  “I miss you.” His heart hurt for Lani. She never meant to become involved in a patient’s life, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Miss you too.”

  “So now what happens?”

  “Probably a bone marrow transplant.”

  Dawson knew how iffy the procedure could be. A patient would be stripped of her bone marrow, a large part of a body’s defense system, and infused with someone else’s healthy bone marrow, which would hopefully grow and make the recipient healthy again. The procedure was harrowing because while the patient’s bone marrow was medically destroyed, the patient would be susceptible to even the most benign germs—from a cut, a cold. Plus the patient would be kept in isolation until the donor marrow was infused and took hold.

  “She’s just a little girl,” Lani said. “Doesn’t weigh forty pounds. She’s so fragile.”

  “But they wouldn’t do it if they didn’t have to,” Dawson said. “Do they have a match?”

  That was the rest of the equation. The donor had to be an excellent genetic match. The best chance was from a sibling, but Sara Beth had none. “I entered myself into the bone marrow registry last week, but I’m not a match for her.” Lani sounded sad and a bit guilty, as if she’d somehow missed the mark. “So the bank has to keep looking. Wouldn’t it be nice if everybody in the country registered? We have so many patients who die waiting because there aren’t enough donors.”

  Night had fully fallen when Dawson pulled into his apartment complex and parked. “Would you like me to register here in Windemere?” It was a simple blood test for a donor, but if a match was found, someone’s life could be saved.

  “Oh, honey, no. I wasn’t asking you to do that. I was just wishing out loud for more donors.”

  They continued talking, telling each other the details of their day, as Dawson let himself into his apartment. He didn’t turn on lights but walked onto the balcony and into the slight chill of the coming autumn. Finally Lani said, “I have to study. Big exam tomorrow.”

  “You’ll ace it. Good night, my love.”

  After they disconnected, loneliness swept through him and he missed her more than ever. He looked up into the night sky and saw a single star twinkling in the dark void. “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight…” He spoke the entire childhood rhyme aloud, then made a wish for Sara Beth, and for Lani.

  Cole walked into the fast-food restaurant, saw the crowds and long lines, and turned to leave. He changed his mind when he spied Dawson Berke sitting alone, scrolling through his cell phone. Food could wait. Cole sauntered over, determined to engage Dawson in conversation. “Hey there. Room for me? Or are you waiting for someone?”

  Dawson glanced up, gave a nod. “No, I’m alone. Have a seat.”

  Cole took the chair across from Dawson at the table for two. “Thanks, man.”

  “You going to eat?” Cole held no tray.

  “I’ll wait until the herd thins.” He thumbed at the swamped cashiers. “I think people in this country are programmed to stop whatever they’re doing and form a mandatory line at noon every day.”

  Dawson quirked a smile, offered Cole fries from the carton on his tray. “Help yourself. I bought two. I gotta roll.”

  “I’m just getting off duty and going home to bed. Where you headed?” Cole didn’t want Dawson running off right away. He wanted to talk.

  “New job site.” He stuffed his phone into his jeans pocket, started to rise.

  “How’s Lani? She was a lifesaver the night of the concert, because that woman Kathy had me backed against the buffet table. I felt like a cornered fish and she was a barracuda.”

  Dawson grinned. “Lani told me about it. Glad you survived.”

  “I’m a paramedic, remember. I can suture my own wounds.”

  That made Dawson laugh and settle back in the chair. “As long as we’re talking, how’s Toby? Did you get rid of that nasty piece of work who calls himself a father?”

  The tight, concerned look on Dawson’s face revealed more than a casual interest. Cole said, “Gloria had a dogfight about it with child services, but DCS put him into a foster home.” Dawson eyes blazed, and Cole quickly added, “But a good attorney filed a petition, and a juvenile judge appointed Gloria temporary custodian, so Toby’s back home now and going to school. Unfortunately, Bo was granted visitation rights, two hours a week, twice a month.” Cole quickly saw that his words had again upset Dawson.

  “Why? He hit Toby. Why would the court allow him to be around the boy?”

  “The visits are supervised by a social worker from DCS, so they meet at a neutral location, a place like this”—Cole gestured—“or a park. Man’s never left alone with Toby.”

  Dawson relaxed, and Cole wondered if Dawson had been abused as a kid, because his body language was all about protecting the child. Dawson took a long draw from a straw in his tall soda cup. “And Sloan? What’s her role in this? I mean, now that Lindsey’s gone.”

  Cole’s senses went on high alert. He wanted every bit of information Dawson was willing to dole out about Sloan, but he knew that discussing Sloan could be land mine territory. “She became very close to Lindsey while she was sick, and Gloria and Toby too. Toby’s crazy about Sloan. Brags to everyone that she’s his aunt. Sloan found the attorney, a child advocacy lawyer on loan to DCS.”

  Dawson held his tongue, toyed with the drink straw, stabbing it up and down in the cup, to rattle and move the ice chips. He casually asked, “Does Sloan visit often?”

  Cole chose his words carefully. “As much as she can, given her career and concert schedule.” Cole took a breath, plunged into deeper water. “Did you and Lani hang with her in high school?”

  “No.”

  Dead end.

  Dawson stood, and Cole felt opportunity slipping away. “Sloan’s been very good to Toby and Gloria. Her concert paid off all Lindsey’s medical bills, set up a trust for Toby. And now she’s doing all she can to keep Toby safe from his father. Not sure how things would have worked out for them if Sloan hadn’t interceded.”

  Dawson held his cup, and with his free hand picked up his tray wadded with burger wrappings and fry cartons. “You like her, don’t you?”

  The register lines had vanished, so Cole had no reason to linger at the table. He also stood. “Yeah, I like her.”

  Dawson met his gaze. “Be careful.”

  Cole’s heart hammered. “Why? She’s nice to me, has never hurt me.”

  The implication was obvious, as the question Did she hurt you? implied.

  Dawson’s eyes shaded as if blinds had dropped behind them. “Just be aware, my friend. She runs.” He turned, dumped the trash, and strode out of the restaurant, while Cole was left to wonder what Dawson’s words had meant. “She runs…” From what? From whom?

  Cole’s stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten for more than twelve hours. He walked to a register and gave his order to a cashier. When his food came, he walked it to the table and sat again, but this time with more questions swimming in his head than if he’d never spoken to Dawson Berke at all.

  “Who wants popcorn?” Cole carried a freshly made batch in a large bowl from his kitchen to the living room.

  “Me! Me!” Toby bounced up and down on the center cushion of the sofa.

  Gloria chimed in with, “Me too.” She sat on one end of the sofa. Cole would take the other end cushion.
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  Cole set the bowl in the center of his coffee table and passed out smaller bowls, the buttery scent of the warm kernels filling the big room. “Help yourself.”

  Toby dug in, spilling fluffy white kernels onto the table as he scooped with his bowl from the bigger one.

  “When’s it coming on? When we gonna see her?” Toby could barely contain his excitement.

  “After this commercial.”

  “I bet she wins!”

  “I’ve listened to the other nominees,” Gloria drawled. “Can’t hold a candle to her. She’s gonna win.”

  The three of them were gathered to watch the CMA awards show on Cole’s big-screen TV. The event once held at the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville was now held at the larger and newer theater that also housed the Country Music Hall of Fame. Since the awards show was scheduled to begin at seven central time, Toby could watch a good portion of the program before he’d have to go to bed. Cole was recording the show in case Sloan’s category wasn’t called before bedtime, so that Toby wouldn’t miss seeing if she won, or hear her sing her megahit, “Somebody’s Baby.” Recording the show was for Cole’s benefit too. She hadn’t visited since Lindsey’s funeral, and extra shifts at work had not taken the edge off how much he wanted to be around her.

  “There she is! I see her!” Toby pointed to the screen, snapping Cole’s attention, and he saw her strolling in the theater lobby on the arm of a man in a tux. “Who’s that guy? Why’s she with him?”

  “Calm down.” Gloria patted Toby’s shoulder. “He’s someone Terri hired to walk her into the theater. Sloan texted me about it. She ain’t got anyone special in Nashville, so this guy’s been picked to sit with her. She told me that if she could have, she’d have asked you to walk her in, Toby.”

  Toby giggled. “Would I have to wear one of those suits?”

  “Yes, you would.”

  “Forget it.” He stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

  Cole ignored the chiseled man with Sloan, concentrated only on her. She wore a full-length strapless flame-red dress sprinkled with sequins. The gown hugged her body, flared at the bottom, where the tip of a stiletto heel covered in rhinestones peeked out as she moved. Glittering diamond earrings, her only jewelry, winked from her ears. Cameras flashed, and a reporter babbled accolades as she passed him. She smiled and waved at the camera, which was on her far too briefly, but her image, the lady in red, blond hair worn in a simple and elegant French twist, her bare skin dusted with a light sparkle, would remain in Cole’s mind forever.

  “I bet everyone in town’s watchin’,” Gloria said.

  Cole nibbled a few pieces of popcorn. Physically Sloan was fifty or sixty miles away, but it might as well have been a thousand. The feel of her in his arms during the disastrous cooking lesson had only whetted his appetite for more of her.

  The show began, and despite numerous musical performances and awards given out, the evening seemed to drag. The Best Song nominees were interspersed with other performances, and by the time the emcee announced Sloan’s number, Toby’s eyes drooped and he lolled against Cole’s side. “Here she is,” Cole said, tousling the boy’s hair. He sat up, sleepy-eyed. And then Sloan’s image filled the TV screen, stunningly beautiful and larger than life. Her body-hugging red dress glimmered. The camera zoomed in on her face slowly as she sang the song that had swept the charts. Every line, every note seemed to pour from someplace deep inside her, trembling on her full lips, filling the room with melancholy words of something lost, gone, never to be touched again. The song was personal, but what drove it?

  Tears sparkled in Sloan’s eyes, looking like a fine shimmering mist through the camera’s all-seeing lens.

  “Why’s she crying?” Toby asked.

  “She’s probably just happy,” Gloria offered, missing all the cues.

  Cole thought differently. The song had been birthed from pain, a deep hurt. What stood behind the curtain of her past, showing so plainly on her beautiful face for millions of viewers to see? He wasn’t sure he would ever know.

  Minutes later Cole carried a sleeping Toby into his guest room, and he and Gloria finished watching the show.

  Lani was checking Sara Beth’s vitals, and Pam was sitting in a nearby chair watching the CMA show, when Sloan’s voice began her signature song.

  “Oh, Lani, I just love this song! Don’t you?” Pam asked.

  Lani turned toward the television, pulled the stethoscope from her ears. She watched the camera zoom in on Sloan’s exquisite face, saw her misted eyes, heard the passion in Sloan’s voice, and for the first time Lani understood that the song wasn’t merely about Sloan’s loss, but also about regrets over what she’d missed by the choices she’d made years before. Lani’s heart softened, and mist swam in her eyes as memories flowed, sweet and tender, and this time untainted by personal sadness. No one could change their past, only regroup and step into the future. For Lani, Dawson’s love had begun her healing. Perhaps fame was bringing Sloan hers.

  As the last notes of the song faded and the audience erupted into applause, Lani cleared her throat. “It’s quite a song.”

  Pam blotted her eyes with a tissue. “Never fails to grab me.”

  “Did I tell you I went to high school with her?”

  “No way!” Pam’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward. “Tell me everything.”

  “Nothing to tell….We ran in separate circles. I was invisible in high school. She wasn’t, but we all knew she was going to make it big.” Lani smiled. “It’s nice to know that we got it right.”

  Sloan walked into Terri’s front office brandishing her hefty CMA trophy in the air. Workers at their desks stood, clapped, and cheered. Kiley ran up to her. “Let me see! Can I hold it?” Sloan handed it over. “You should have won both categories, you know.”

  Terri stuck her head out from her inner door. “Thought I heard some noise….Welcome home, Best New Country Singer of the Year!” She came out and gave Sloan a hug.

  Kiley returned the award, called out, “You should have won two!” as Terri closed the door behind herself and Sloan.

  “I was glad to win this one,” she told Terri, pouring herself a cup of fresh coffee from Terri’s silver carafe.

  “I’m with Kiley. You should have won for Best Song too. Your performance was stunning.”

  “Said the agent….” Sloan blew Terri a kiss. “In the end, I realize the song was too sad for a win. People like upbeat songs, and that’s the kind that won. But this award”—she gestured to the trophy she’d set on Terri’s desk—“is far more valuable to my career, don’t you think?”

  Late-morning sun flooded through freshly cleaned sparkling windows. Outside, warm November sunlight painted a blue cloudless sky with pure light. From this height over the busy streets and distant freeways, the whole world looked brand-new. “All awards are valuable to a singer’s career.” Terri poured herself a cup of coffee and settled behind her desk. “I’m surprised to see you so soon. I thought you might hang around a few days.”

  “I took a red-eye as soon as the ceremony was over.”

  “No parties? The party circuit is huge after these ceremonies.”

  “Not my thing. I just wanted to get back.” The Rick Searle Band had won for Best Record and Best Band, and backstage Tate had made it clear he wanted to pick up where he and Sloan had left off in Atlanta. She didn’t, so the late-night flight had been a perfect escape.

  “No visit to Windemere?”

  “I’m going for Thanksgiving. Gloria’s roasting a turkey with all the trimmings and asked me to come.” She wanted to see Cole too, kept remembering the way he looked at her, and the way he made her feel. Not just desirable but cherished. Nice sensation. “How ’bout you? Where will you spend Turkey Day?”

  “Skiing in Colorado.”

  “Alone?”

  Terri gave an impish smile. “My secret.”

  Sloan matched her grin. “Take notes.” She yawned, stood, and stretched. “For now, I’m going to
the apartment and getting some sleep.” She started toward the door.

  “Aren’t you taking your award to put on your mantel?”

  “I don’t have a mantel. I thought maybe you could hold on to it for me until I do.”

  “I’ll put it on my bookshelf for safekeeping. Do you ever think about getting a place of your own? You can afford to live almost anywhere out here. Maybe buy something in Hollywood Hills or build a place in the canyons. You’ve got a great future and money in the bank.”

  “Sometimes I do think about buying a house. Know any good Realtors?”

  “A flock.” Terri glanced at her computer screen. “I’ll gather a list of the best ones in LA and shoot you an email.” Sloan started for the door. “You know I’m very proud of you, Sloan.”

  “Lots of your clients win awards. I only have one, but I promise I’ll add more.”

  Sloan’s smile made Terri smile too. Then the agent’s expression grew thoughtful. “I’ve seen a lot of talent come through my door, really fine talent. Some of them took a rocket ride to the top. And after they got there, I’ve seen their rocket crash and burn, sometimes because of booze and drugs, sometimes because the talent gets very rich very quickly and starts believing their own hype.”

  “Is that what you thought was going to happen to me?”

  “I wondered for a time. Then you did what you did for Lindsey and Toby. I was impressed, because I’m fairly certain you will never take that DNA test.” Sloan shrugged off Terri’s correct assumption. “I’m saying this, Sloan, because I think your rocket ride is for real, because you’re for real. It’s called character, and I admire it.”

  Sloan’s cheeks grew warm. She was surprised and touched by Terri’s assessment. “Stop before my head explodes. I—I thought it was the right thing to do. But now I’ll move on and stay on board the rocket as long as I can. I always told you that being a singer is all I’ve ever wanted.”