Chapter 3
When I exited Nashville International Airport, my brother Ozzie was leaning on his spotless truck waiting. A smile pulled at his lips when he caught sight of me. “Hey Cloud Catcher,” he yelled with a wave. Cloud Catcher was one of my many childhood nicknames until Fancy stuck. Oz called me this because I’d always been tall for my age. Like noticeably taller than all the other kids in my fourth-grade class. It wasn’t until around junior year when most of the boys surpassed me in height and a few of the girls caught up.
“Oz.” I ran to my big brother, hurling myself into his arms, leaving my luggage unattended to roll away into oncoming traffic.
“If shit ever turns sour, you can always come home again,” were the last words my mother whispered in my ear before Darla and I headed toward TSA security check. That was close to ten years ago. We were being flown out by a big-time record label. The goal was to sign a contract and start recording our songs. In actuality the process wasn’t as easy as all that, but eventually we signed on the dotted line.
After finding my boyfriend fucking another bitch, I hightailed it back to Los Angeles, packed up a few things, because I was also shacking up with the two-timing loser and booked the first flight home. I needed time to think, and I wouldn’t be able to do that with Dylan’s baby blues pleading for forgiveness. It was safe to say when it came to Dylan, I was sprung and a little bit enamored. His stepmother was Billie Preston, the first African American artist to make a lasting stamp in the world of country music. Billie was the reason I picked up a guitar.
Oz pushed me off him. “Stop with all that mushy stuff. Let me get a look at you.” He circled around me like I was a used car he was considering buying. “Well, you’re no worse for wear. When Momma said you were coming home unexpected, I thought I might have to make a trip of my own and fuck up the man that hurt you. But I don’t see any bruises, so I’m assuming whatever is going on is about your heart and not someone going upside your head.”
I swallowed down a dry patch in my throat. If Oz possessed x-ray vision, he would see my heart was torn in two. Maybe I was dumb, or Chap was just a really good liar because I never suspected a thing. I assumed there would be signs of discord in our relationship. Sure we disagreed, but he was always so attentive. Right before I got on stage, he kissed me and told me to knock ‘em dead.
How do you go from that to fucking a random woman in the span of two hours? During the flight I’d spent my time recounting all the possible fissures in our whirlwind romance. Fans considered us relationship goals. Chap was a handsome charmer who was the life of the party. I was the beautiful songstress with amazing hair and enviable style. Shallow, yes, but Hollywood wasn’t the real world.
Hollywood was about social currency, and together Chap and I were this aspirational power couple. Was he the love of my life? Probably not, but he made me happy. We were happy. At least I was. I plastered on a brave face. “Why can’t I just come visit my family because I missed them?”
“You ain’t missed us in years. Too busy rubbing elbows and God knows what else with your rich music friends.”
I shrugged off his words. “Thanks for making the drive to pick me up.”
“You can thank Momma.” He hoisted my luggage into the bed of his truck. Oz was massive and towered over me. Food and beer were his pastimes, and the pooch of his belly showed it. He came off gruff, but he was a big teddy bear who loved cuddles and country music. Opening my door, he stepped aside so I could climb into the cab. He jumped into the driver’s seat, and we were off.
The drive from Nashville to the small town of Hume was several hours. There was a part of me excited to come home. Since signing our record deal, Whiskey Wild had been booked and busy. But even with a big label backing us, we still needed to put in the work. That meant singing at the mall to disinterested shoppers and continuing to work the state fair and farmers’ market circuit to build word of mouth.
By the time our first single “Good Time Girls” dropped, there was momentum behind us and things took off fast. Sometimes I felt like it was too fast because we didn’t have a second to catch our breath. We were on the road as an opening act and making the rounds at radio stations for interviews. Each radio interview was always the same with the DJ announcing their shock we were Black women and not sun tanned, blonde-haired, country gals. A break would do me good.
As he drove, Oz prattled on about the happenings in Hume. Who was shagging who. Who’d gotten divorced. Who was on their fourth baby. I grew up in a small town and even when you tried to be discreet, secrets never remained hidden for long. That’s what I hated most about this town. Everyone was in your business before you even had a chance to figure out what all that business entailed.
When he got tired of talking, he turned on the radio and a Whiskey Wild song was playing. Oz flashed me an eye, shaking his head.
“Shut up, Oz,” I said.
“I tell you what, that shit never gets old. Hearing my baby sister on the radio.”
“They have to fill the airwaves with something.”
“No need to be modest. You did your big one with Whiskey Wild.”
I wasn’t being modest. It just felt silly bragging about shit that was mostly about luck. Darla and I weren’t the most talented singing duo to come to Nashville. Our success was based on a series of fortunate events. Like dominos all lined up to perfectly fall into place. Playing at the Gatlin State Fair and piquing the interest of a record label executive who signed us to a deal and then put us in artist development purgatory for months. My job as a hostess in LA at a swanky restaurant and Aurora, the spoiled rich daddy’s girl who took a shine to me.
I was her plus one at some of the most exclusive parties in Hollywood. That’s where I met Chap. At the time I was unaware of his country connection. We were just two people living in the moment and trying to make ends meet. Later I discovered Chap’s form of struggle came with a trust fund. One day he heard me singing in the shower and you could practically see the dollar signs etched in his eyes.
Like I said … luck.
“You and Darla are real hometown heroes. No one makes it out of Hume.”
That wasn’t true; plenty of people made it out. Maybe their songs weren’t on the radio, but they were off somewhere thriving. At least that’s what I liked to believe. For me it was never about making it out of Hume, it was about pursuing my dreams. Ones that couldn’t be fully realized in Hume, Tennessee.
“Speaking of Darla, where is she? You two are usually joined at the hip.”
“Uhm … we’ve been on the road hitting it pretty hard. I just needed to press the reset button and take a breath.” If I told him I didn’t know where Darla was right now that would raise red flags. I was a bad friend for leaving her to cuss Chap out alone, but I needed to be anywhere but there. And when I exited the bus, my next immediate thought was getting the hell out of the desert. I bumped into Moniece, and she just took over. Hiring her was the best decision I’d ever made. She called a car, booked a flight to LA, helped me pack my things between tears and saw me off at LAX. Note to self, give that woman a raise.
“So how long are you in town for?”
“I don’t know. Long enough to enjoy Momma’s home cooking and ride Cotton Candy.”
Oz sputtered in laughter. “Cotton Candy. Daddy should not have allowed a twelve-year-old girl to name no damn horse. You got me on the farm yelling, “Hey Cotton Candy come here girl.”
“I named her that because her mane refused to stay tamed. It was all fluffy and soft just like cotton candy.”
I was looking forward to pulling up to the ranch, climbing the creaky steps to the second floor and curling under the covers for a few days. When I called my mother from LA, I didn’t explain what was going on. But I’m sure she could hear it in between my sniffles as I attempted to bite back tears. If your world is crashing above your head, you need to seek shelter. And Palmer Ranch was my safe place.
Pulling up to the house, two things were clear, the ranch house was smaller than I remembered it, and my mother notified everyone in the family about my return. It was a mini family reunion. I pushed out a long, low breath. “Gotdamnit Momma.”
“Is it too much? I told Momma this was going to be too much.” Like a true big brother, Oz was protective. He’d read headlines about me online and be ready to burn down the world and the comment section on my behalf.
“I had hoped to ease into my homecoming.” I rubbed at my weary eyes.
“Now you know that woman will look for any excuse to entertain.”
“I do but I just hoped we could save the pomp and ceremony for a later date.”
At one time this house with the blue shutters and the land that stretched for miles was the center of my universe. In some way it still was. Palmer Ranch was like a fixed point on a map and no matter how far I roamed, I could always turn right back around and find my way home. When my feet touched down on the ranch soil, it acted like a reset button. You know when you die in a video game and then respawn at your last saved location? This home was my checkpoint. A chance to soothe my hurt feelings and try again.
Ozzie rounded the truck and leaned close. “Paint on a smile Fancy, and mind your manners.”
I did just as my brother instructed. Greeting aunts, uncles, and cousins I hadn’t seen in years. Listening as they recounted stories from my childhood. The memories others held of me never quite matched my own. As I moved from family member to family member, the conversations were the same. Everyone wanted to catch me up on what was going on in town like my mother wasn’t my resident news reporter of all things Hume.
Granted she rarely had updates about what my friends from high school were up to, but occasionally she’d mention one of their parents and I learned my high school crush got married or Cyrus Birch had been elected mayor. Which was weird because he was Ozzie’s best friend. I’d watched as he rapped and danced off beat in our living room.
The highlight of the night was getting to spend time with my niece, Maple. Video chats did not compare to seeing her in real life. At seven she was completely her own little person, and I could see so much of both Ozzie and Dial in her. If she was anything like her mother, this world would have to brace itself. I gave Maple my full attention while she told me all about school and her pet frog, Gorf, which was frog spelled backwards.
After the party began to wind down and there were only a few stragglers, I was able to escape to my old room. Laying across the bed, I took a deep calming breath. While I enjoyed catching up, it was nice to be alone. Even if that meant I had to confront the thoughts swirling around in my head.
My room was just like I left it down to the posters on the wall. When I left Hume, I had no intention of coming back. That statement isn’t entirely true, I was okay with coming home for a weekend visit or a few days around Christmas, but I made sure to never stay long. I preferred to have my family visit me in Los Angeles. And Ozzie and Maple had taken me up on that offer more times than I could count.
I loved Hume and growing up in it, but once I saw what the world had to offer, the thought of planting stakes in my hometown became less appealing. But there was something to be said about having a community. Outside of Darla and Chap, I couldn’t really claim that in LA. Making friends was a whole lot harder as an adult, and most of my friends were just as busy as I was.
“I know you’re not on that bed in your outside clothes.” My mother’s voice punctured my serenity.
“I’m gonna shower, I just needed to rest for a bit.”
“Was it too much inviting everyone over?”
“It was a lot. But I enjoyed seeing everyone again.”
“You look tired.”
“Well between the flight and the drive, that would make sense.”
My mother sat on my bed. “Do you want to tell me why you’re here?”
“I missed you and Daddy,” I lied.
She rested her hand on my knee and waited silently.
“Chap … I caught him cheating. Like ass to sky cheating.”
“And you’re surprised?”
I wrinkled my face, giving my mother the side eye. “Yes, I’m surprised. We were talking about marriage.”
“With Dylan?” Her voice rose several octaves.
“Yes with Chap.”
“I will never understand it. Is it the eyes or the dick that got you thinking like this?”
My mother was never one to mince words. When I hit fourteen, she started talking to me plain about life, love, and sex.
“A little bit of both.” I laughed. “Are you not surprised?”
“The first time I met him he reminded me of a snake oil salesman. You know what I mean?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“It felt like he was trying to promote himself. He was selling himself as this great boyfriend who would be careful with your heart, but I never fully bought it.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Would you have listened?”
“I would have taken it under advisement.”
“Is Darla going to make an appearance?”
“I kind of left in a hurry. We didn’t have a chance to touch bases on next steps.” Normally Darla and I moved as a pair. So questions about her presence were expected. But I didn’t tell Darla I was leaving because I wanted to be alone, and I didn’t want her opinions to determine my verdict. I was mad at Chap now but maybe once we talked, I wouldn’t be. It’s easier to take your cheating boyfriend back when your best friend isn’t next to you calling you a dumb bitch under her breath.
And for the record I never said I was one hundred percent taking him back. But all relationships go through ups and downs. Sure, I didn’t think cheating would be one of the lows but maybe with time and therapy we could move past it. I deserved grace after all that transpired over the last forty-eight hours. My feelings for Chap couldn’t be turned off like a light switch.
“Can we keep the cheating bit between you, me, and these four walls?”
“I understand you have a decision to make and the less people that know protects Dylan from potential judgement.”
When she said it like that I felt stupid. Why should I care about sparing his feelings after he was so cavalier with mine?
“Well, you can stay here as long as you like.” She rose from the bed, trying to suppress a smile. Me being home made her happy. And if getting my heart smashed into a million little pieces was the catalyst that drove me back, so be it. It was obvious she was team fuck Chap, a sentiment that would have been nice to know years ago. Perhaps if she or anyone had pointed out the red flags, I was content on missing, my eyes wouldn’t be red or my nose raw from excess Kleenex use. “Get some sleep. We’re heading into town in the morning.”
The trip into town consisted of a stop at the post office to collect the mail and packages in our PO box. Because the ranch was a ways from town, my parents just picked up their mail when they were in the vicinity. We hit up the bakery picking out donuts for Daddy and Oz. Momma returned some library books and allowed me to check out a book I was interested in reading.
At each stop the store clerk, postal worker, or librarian would gush over me. “If it isn’t Francesca Palmer. What are you doing back in Hume? I caught you and Darla on The Tonight Show , you two did real good. Look at your hair. Are those purple highlights? You are too Hollywood for me.” It was a mix of praise and backhanded compliments. I think some Hume residents looked at folks who left as traitors.
Many believed I was too big for my britches and assumed I thought I was better than them because I was on the radio and sold millions of albums. None of that was true. I loved the people in Hume. Hume residents were like my extended family. I was either related to them by blood or connected to them through memories. Hume had a population of just under five thousand people, so no one was ever really a stranger.
Back in the car I mused over the noticeable changes. “I see Morton’s finally went through with the expansion.”
“He’d been talking about it for years. Most of us were sick of hearing about it. But he finally pulled the trigger. And it’s nice inside. You should check it out while you’re in town.”
“I don’t think I’ll have a need for a screwdriver or bucket while I’m here.”
“You could just stop in and say hello. I’m sure Kendell would appreciate it.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe means no.”
“Just trying to keep it low key while I’m in town. I’m not looking for a feature in the newspaper like last time.”
“People are proud of you Fancy. You can’t pour cold water on that.”
“I’m not, but it’s weird being treated like a celebrity by people I grew up with. I come home to feel normal, not to become a main attraction.”
“When you chase fame you tend to become famous.”
“I didn’t chase fame. I just wanted to sing my songs.”
“Well, you got that. Billboards in Times Square, number ones on the country charts, your face on T-shirts.”
“That’s no different than the shirts Daddy made for the ranch.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t put his ugly mug on them.”
My family trained horses. Palmer Ranch was home to several four-legged superstars. Our horses appeared in films and commercials. That’s how I first got the Hollywood bug while accompanying my father to movie sets. Oz had worked on the ranch since he was old enough to walk and now he was alongside my father traveling, training, and running the day-to-day operations.
On our way back home we stopped at Figs and Twine to pick up some seeds and flowers. While my mother chatted up one of the staff members, I wandered deeper into the lush greenery until I reached the greenhouse section, which was kind of like being transported to paradise. The fountains, strategically placed, drowned out any outside noise from the road or nearby customers. I stopped at a pad of sunflowers and inhaled deeply. They should add a few tables and maybe offer coffee. If they did, I would lose hours in this unexpected Zen Garden.
It was impossible to be unhappy in a place like this. Chap who? Nature always had the ability to soothe me. I grew up outside and all I needed to shift my perspective was fresh air and sunshine or a cool breeze with a hint of rain in the air. You couldn’t get this in Los Angeles. It was all concrete, traffic and overly landscaped and manicured open spaces. I liked my nature wild and untamed. Tall grass, rich soil and wildflowers leading the way like my own personal yellow brick road.
“Can I help you?” A deep raspy voice with extra Tennessee twang called from behind me.
“I’m just waiting for my momma.” I turned to find a tall strapping man standing in front of me. With copper skin from being kissed by the sun. His gray T-shirt was doing the heavy lifting, defining the muscles in his arms and chest. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a tattered ball cap. The brim of that cap curved, shielding his eyes. When he smiled the sun seemed to shine a little brighter, like it was siphoning some of his energy to power up.
“Fancy?”
“Yeah,” I said cautiously.
The man adjusted his ball cap to reveal his eyes. “It’s Edison.”
“Edison Birch?” Shock was written all over my face. In high school Edison was cute, but he was never this. This man was rugged and grown. Like fuck you on the porch while waiting for the sun brewed iced tea to finish seeping type of grown. Edison’s family owned Figs and Twine, but I didn’t expect to run into him here. And I certainly didn’t expect the butterflies his visage was inducing in my nether regions. I brushed my curls from my face. Why had I opted to sleep late so I only had fifteen minutes to get ready?
My hair was dehydrated, frizzy, and in need of a good wash. My outfit consisted of the first shirt I pulled out of my luggage, I wasn’t even sure if it was clean, and a pair of cut-off shorts. I looked a hot mess, and I was standing in front of Edison Birch who’d decided to sprout up at least five inches since I last saw him with biceps for days.
“What are you doing here? Other than waiting for your momma.”
“Here at Figs and Twine or here in Hume?”
“The latter.”
“Visiting, I’ve been away for a long time. Too long.”
“I know Mrs. Palmer must be tickled pink.” He flashed a crooked smile.
Fuck me. They didn’t have this brand of male in LA. His muscles were the result of hard work, not hours in the gym. And his flawless skin was the product of fresh air and clean water. Men in LA were often neurotic, maybe because life in a major city required you to be ten steps ahead. Edison’s molasses laced speech made it clear he wasn’t in a rush. As if standing here chatting with me was the most important part of his day. Everything and everyone else could wait, his attention was trained on me.
“She hasn’t stopped talking since I pulled up to the ranch.”
“How long are you here for?” His eyes casually tripped down the length of my body and heat whooshed up my neck, ears, and over my cheeks.
That was a good question. I didn’t have a plan, people who run away in the middle of the night rarely did. Hopping my shoulders, I replied, “Don’t really know. Kinda playing that part by ear.” I gave him a long, curious look. “You’ve grown Edison Birch.”
“Have I?” His tone was actually one of surprise as if every single woman in town hadn’t told him how fine he was. Hume was small and pickings were slim. If Edison was still single, then I could guarantee there was a long line of women looking to remedy that.
“Before I left you had a bird chest and now … well now you look like a bucking bull.” I wish I could claim I was playing it cool, but I was practically drooling.
“Country living will do that to you.”
“How’s the family … Dial, Cyrus?”
“We’re good. Still here.”
“I heard Cy’s the mayor now. That’s … wow.”
“We’re still getting used to it.”
“It’s crazy knowing the beer bong champion is now the mayor.”
Edison chuckled at the memory. “To be fair he only won the beer bong competition because Ozzie was sick.”
“I remember he ate like ten hot dogs, puked, and Dial had to take him home.”
“And she’s never let him live it down.”
Funny enough when my mother delivered her monthly Hume updates, she never mentioned Edison. And I didn’t have the balls to inquire. But now, standing just feet apart, I had so many questions.
I gently ran my fingers over the sunflowers. “This place has changed.”
“Hopefully for the better.” He tugged off his gloves with his teeth.
“You work here?”
“Yep, run the day-to-day with Dial.”
“You always did love your plants. Sometimes I thought you preferred this vegetation to actual people.”
“Plants don’t talk back and their needs are simple. Just water, space, and air.” He walked toward me, causing my pits to sweat. Edison always had an intense stare but now his obsidian eyes seemed to be red hot and all consuming. His hand stretched in my direction, and I flinched. “Sorry, you have tinsel in your hair.”
Shaking my hair, I attempted to loosen it.
“Let me guess, you went to Paper Petals.”
“Yep, I think it’s gotten more cluttered than the last time I visited.” I continued to shake.
“I keep saying that place is a fire hazard just waiting to happen. And the tinsel hanging from the rafters gets on damn near everything.”
“Did I get it?” I looked up at him.
“Nope. Let me.” This time I stood pencil straight as he removed several pieces of silver and gold tinsel from my curls, handing them to me. Now that he was closer, the scent of clean overtook my nostrils. His scent was fresh and organic. No overpowering fragrance, just good old-fashioned bar soap and water. “I think I got it all.”
“Thank you. Truthfully, the tinsel was probably an improvement.”
“I like your hair like this. It’s like the just rolled out of bed head. But in the best possible way.”
My mother’s booming voice broke our gaze. “You ready to head home?” She walked up on us with a big smile. “Edison, you see my baby girl is back in town.”
“Yes ma’am, I did peep that. I’m sure it’s difficult to contain your excitement.”
“We missed you at the ranch yesterday.”
“If I’d known it was a homecoming I’d have cleared my calendar.”
“It’s not so much of a homecoming as it is a pit stop,” I corrected him.
“Well, whatever it is. It’s nice to have you back in town. Even if it’s for a short while.”
I knew my mother well enough to know when she was plotting as her eyes darted from me to him and back again. “You two should make time to catch up.”
Edison offered my mother what looked like an appreciative smile. “I’d like that. Don’t leave Hume without making a little time for me.”
My cheeks flushed. Was this man flirting with me? I’d grown numb to people being nice to me because of what they thought I could offer them. But Edison’s words seemed genuine and I’d never known him to be a user. So many people had taken advantage of me I’d lost count, but in all the years I’d known Edison he’d always been a straight shooter.
At the car, Edison loaded the items my mother purchased into her trunk. “Drive safe. It was good seeing you again, Fancy.” Edison tossed up a wave.
“Uh-huh,” I chirped, climbing into the driver’s seat.
After my mother fastened her seat belt, she mimicked me, “Uh-huh.”
“Shut up old lady,” I said, playfully swatting her arm.