CHAPTER 27 #4
When the last note faded tears were slipping down her cheeks, and her heart was full and aching all at once. She loved these children as if they were her own. But they weren’t. And they never would be.
“That was amazing.” Jamie stood and gave them an ovation. “I love that song, girls, but you’re missing a singer.” She picked up Clayton’s guitar from the couch. “Mind if I join you?”
“Would you, Miss Jamie?” Emily pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture.
“Please sing with us!” Charlotte ran over and hugged her.
Jamie nodded, tuning the guitar. “As long as I get to be Dolly.”
Clayton arched a skeptical eyebrow. “You know this song?”
Jamie nodded. “By heart.”
She strummed the first few bars and Emily picked up Linda Ronstadt’s part. Charlotte followed with Emmylou Harris’s verse. When the chorus came Jamie joined in and took Dolly’s turn. Their voices blended effortlessly, filling the room with warmth .
When the song ended Jamie turned to Clayton—and froze. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, disappearing into his beard.
“You okay?” she asked gently.
Charlotte ran to him, wrapping her arms around him. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”
Clayton wiped his face with the back of his wrist. “That’s the most beautiful dang thing I’ve ever heard.” His eyes, still glistening, locked onto Jamie’s. “Thank you.”
“Thank them, not me.” She smiled. “It was their idea.” She hesitated, then added, “But I just had one of my own.”
Clayton tipped his baseball cap, amusement flickering in his expression. “Now, don’t hurt yourself, darlin’.”
“Very funny.” She pointed toward the door. “Can I have a word outside?”
His smirk faded and he let out a low groan, resting his hands on his knees. “Am I in trouble?”
“Oh no, Daddy’s in trouble!” Emily giggled, wagging a finger. “You should ground him.”
Jamie shook her head with a grin and stepped outside. The heat hit instantly—thick, smoggy, the kind of stifling warmth she never missed about Los Angeles.
Clayton followed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, if you felt pressured to sing—”
She cut him off. “I offered.”
He nodded, glancing away. “Still, it meant a lot.” He exhaled, almost as if steadying himself. “That song . . . it got to me.”
Jamie studied him for a beat, then asked, “How would you feel if I asked the girls to sing with me tonight? ”
He didn’t answer right away. The pause stretched long enough for doubt to creep in. Had she overstepped?
Finally he looked at her, his expression unreadable—until it softened. “I reckon they’d love that.”
Before she could respond he pulled her into a hug—tight, warm, lingering. His breath was steady against her ear as he whispered, “Thank you.”
She pulled back, searching his face. “For what?”
“For being more of a mother to them than Tammy ever was. I try my best to raise them, but they need a woman’s touch.”
The words landed hard, leaving Jamie momentarily breathless. Was she getting too attached? To Charlotte and Emily, to the Langley family? How was she supposed to leave at the end of the tour, walk away like none of this mattered?
Of course she would miss them. That wasn’t even a question.
And damn it, she’d miss their father, too. Even if he was a royal pain in the ass. But somehow she’d gotten used to him being around.
And that might be the biggest problem of all.
Jamie and Clayton spent the day rehearsing with the band, and to her surprise they managed to make the Osmonds’ song sound fresh and modern. Later she ran through “The Sweetest Gift” with the girls—just her guitar and their harmonies—and a chill ran down her spine.
Shorty showed up at the venue unannounced, no doubt checking up on them.
He loved the idea of her and Clayton performing another duet during his encore, but he wasn’t sure about her singing with the girls.
He thought they were too young to capture the depth of the lyrics.
But song choices were hers, and this was happening.
With all the excitement about singing two new songs Jamie had almost forgotten about Derrick—until Buddy knocked on her dressing room door.
“Someone’s here to see you,” he said.
Her stomach tightened.
Clayton, who had been waiting with her, caught the panic in her eyes. “Who is it?”
Buddy opened the door and in walked Doofus and Arthur, both wearing suits like they were heading to a board meeting. Jamie had never been thrilled to see her label’s president, but tonight she nearly sighed in relief.
Doofus shook her hand, then did the same with Clayton. “I hear the tour’s going well. Sold-out shows in every city.”
“It’s been great.” Clayton nodded. “Wouldn’t you say, Jamie?”
“The best tour I’ve ever been on,” she agreed.
Arthur scoffed. “Nothing will ever beat Elvis at Madison Square Garden in ’72.”
Jamie rolled her eyes at Clayton, who smothered a laugh.
Doofus eyed them. “What’s this I hear about you covering an Osmond song tonight?”
“We’re playing ‘A Little Bit Country, a Little Bit Rock ’n’ Roll,’” Clayton told him.
Doofus stroked his mustache. “That song’s dated. I don’t think it’ll land with the audience.”
“We’ve updated the arrangement,” Jamie said. “More guitars, no banjo. It sounds new—like it was written today.”
Doofus crossed his arms. “The LA crowd won’t know it.”
“Country fans will,” Clayton countered. “And this is a country audience.”
Buddy stuck his head back in. “Five minutes, Jamie.”
Perfect timing.
Jamie stepped toward the door. “I’ve got to finish warming up. Thanks for stopping by. Hope you enjoy the show.”
Doofus and Arthur walked out.
The second the door shut Jamie turned to Clayton with a smirk. “We’ll show him.”
Jamie’s set was electric, each song hitting harder than the last. The crowd was rowdy, feeding off her energy, and for the first time she felt like they were truly there for her. They knew every word, singing along with full-throated enthusiasm.
After the final song she made her way to the side of the stage where the twins waited, looking completely unfazed.
“Ready?” she asked.
Emily grinned. “Break a leg, Miss Jamie.”
Jamie laughed. “You too, honey.”
As the house lights dimmed a single spotlight illuminated three stools in the center of the stage. Jamie stepped into it, holding Emily and Charlotte’s hands. They took their seats on the stools, Jamie in the middle, and she strummed her guitar before turning to introduce them.
“This is Emily.” The crowd clapped, eyes widening at the sight of the two little girls beside her. “And this is Charlotte.” She kept playing, letting the anticipation build. “We’re going to sing a song called ‘The Sweetest Gift.’ I hope you like it.”
A ripple of recognition ran through the audience, followed by a hush so complete it felt like the entire venue had frozen. As Emily’s voice rang out, pure and haunting, not a single phone light flickered. No distractions. Just listening.
Jamie couldn’t tell if they loved it or hated it. The silence was unnerving.
But when the final note faded the crowd erupted. Cheers, whistles, a standing ovation. Some people even wiped their eyes.
Jamie hugged the girls. “You did it.”
As the house lights came up they hopped off their stools, hand in hand, and took a bow.
It was the sweetest gift of all.
At the side of the stage Clayton and Shorty were waiting, both visibly emotional.
“That was so much fun!” Emily beamed.
“I’m so proud of you two,” Clayton said, then winked at Jamie. “You three.”
Charlotte bounced on her toes. “It went by so fast! Can we do it again?”
Clayton chuckled. “You’ll have to ask Miss Jamie.”
Jamie turned to Shorty, raising her brow. “Well, what did you think?”
He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed his eyes. “I think you should play it every night.”
She’d won him over. But there was still Doofus to deal with.
Jamie stayed to watch Clayton’s set with the girls by her side, all of them riding the adrenaline high. She’d never seen them this giddy—not even a sugar rush could match the thrill of performing.
When Clayton’s set wrapped up, it was her turn. She hesitated. Were they making a mistake with the Osmonds’ song? The night had been perfect and she didn’t want to ruin it. If Doofus weren’t here she might have pulled the plug. But she had something to prove. And she was nothing if not stubborn.
They kicked off the encore with “More Bad Days Than Good,” then followed with “I Did a Good Job of Drinking.” The crowd raised their beers, shouting the lyrics back at them.
Then Clayton met her eyes and gave a slight nod. It was time.
Johnny played the opening chords. No introduction. No warning. Just music.
“ I’m a little bit country . . . ” Clayton sang.
And then—chaos.
The crowd erupted. Every single person knew the words. The women took Jamie’s lines, the men sang Clayton’s.
Jamie’s heart pounded as she sang her first line, and when she glanced at Clayton he was already watching her, eyes filled with something unreadable.
When they hit the chorus Clayton leaned in, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips as he sang his part.
Jamie rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small grin that slipped out.
The second verse came, and when she sang her line she gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder.
He chuckled and the sound was caught by his mic, sending a ripple of laughter through the crowd.
By the time they reached the bridge their energies were feeding off each other.
She lifted her brow as she belted out her line, daring him to match her.
His answering look said, Oh, I see how it is, and when it was his turn he hit the note with extra flair, making her laugh mid-song.
Their chemistry was undeniable.
When they hit the last note the fans were losing their minds. Jamie and Clayton took a bow to deafening cheers. It was the best show of the tour, hands down.
Backstage, Doofus was waiting .
Jamie smirked. “Well? What did you think?”
Doofus sighed, shaking his head. “I think you should record it as a single.”
“My idea, by the way,” Arthur said, grinning. “We’ll get you two in the studio as soon as you’re back in Nashville.”
“What do you say, Shorty?” Clayton asked.
Shorty tipped his hat. “Already booked you in.”
Jamie and Clayton exchanged glances.
What the hell?
They were doing this.
“We’ve decided on the first single,” Doofus announced. “For your album.”
Jamie arched her eyebrow, bracing herself for disappointment. “Oh?”
“‘When We Two Parted,’” Arthur said smugly.
She blinked, stunned. After fighting to get that song on her record, she could hardly believe it. “I thought you didn’t like it.”
“I changed my mind,” Doofus said. “The crowd loves it.”
A rush of euphoria swept over her as she headed for the bus. They were releasing her favorite song on the album. And all that worrying about Derrick had been for nothing—he hadn’t even shown up.