Chapter 12
As the sun made its way west, leaving long, warm shadows over the Dorseys’ sweeping backyard, Ryder had just won his tenth game of cornhole, and no one else would challenge him.
On the stage, Buck sat in front of a microphone and started singing, not bothering to call for everyone’s attention. Over on the plywood dance floor, lit with a string of round globes and solar tiki torches, couples began a slow sway as Buck’s pure voice with a gravel texture sang over them.
Ryder looked around for Elizabeth, hoping to hold her on the dance floor, just as Buck changed the rhythm on the next song and the floor was crowded with line dancers.
To the delight of everyone, country legend Aubrey James joined the stage for a medley of old-time classics. After the initial explosion of cheers and applause for the Hall of Famer, couples started two-stepping around the floor and singing along.
Ryder faced the stage and saluted Buck. It was just like him to bring a big moment to his friends and family in Hearts Bend. Ryder was about to hunt for Elizabeth when Granny D. grabbed his hand.
“Come on, champ. Let’s dance. Aubrey James is singing, and my two-step is getting rusty.”
“I’m game if you’re game.”
“Hey, we’re not too bad,” Granny D. said, adding a twirl that moved them toward Pops, who danced with Elizabeth.
“Here you go, let’s trade.” Pops took Granny’s hand and released Elizabeth’s into Ryder’s.
“They think they’re so clever,” she said.
“Your Pops came to the fire tower on Saturday. Gave me a hand with the steps, along with a bit of free advice. Said you’d be hard to catch.
” Ryder looked into her eyes as if to find some unspoken truth as they stepped around the floor in time with the music.
Quick, quick, slow, slow. “But not impossible. I think he’s trying to help me out. ”
“He’s a fan of love.”
“Exactly.”
The medley ended, and with Elizabeth’s hand still in his, Ryder headed for the dessert table.
“So, can I ask you something?” She picked up a small round plate and studied the slices of cake. “Did you order the pine for the fire tower from Dorsey?”
“Yeah, we always use the mill side of Dorsey,” Ryder said. “Your grandpa set up a long-standing contract with the WMA that Dorsey still honors. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
From the stage, Buck introduced an artist from Oklahoma, Summer Wilde.
“She wrote one of my favorite songs ever, and a country music classic,” Buck said.
“‘The Preacher.’ She’s been hiding out in Tumbleweed, Oklahoma, raising a family and singing in the corner of a drug store.
She’s penned a few other hits, even one of mine, but tonight she’s singing a couple of songs only Oklahomans know. Summer, get on over here.”
The party guests applauded as the two embraced, and Summer, with long, wild grayish-blonde hair, sat in front of a mike.
“Thanks for inviting me, Buck, especially since I’m old enough to be your mama.
But I love a good guitar pull, and love singing with my good friend Aubrey James.
And hello, Hearts Bend, Tennessee.” She began strumming her guitar.
“I wrote this song for my husband Levi about thirty years ago. I still mean every word of it. Here’s to Matt and Betty Dorsey and all you committed lovers out there. ”
As Summer began her subtle, romantic melody with Buck on the cajon and Aubrey singing harmony, Ryder set his and Elizabeth’s desserts aside and took her in his arms, right there under the trees.
She rested her head against him, and he knew he could stay like this forever.
Not only because she was gorgeous and curvy, bold and brave, but because she was on his side.
He never felt confident that anyone was truly on his side.
His parents, perhaps, but from a distance. Enzo, but he’d also been his boss.
Summer’s rich, deep voice held out the closing note, and Elizabeth glanced up at him. He swept a lock of hair from her neck and searched her eyes for a yes before lowering his lips to hers.
“I-I should check on Granny.” Elizabeth backed away. “See if she needs any help.” She hurried off without looking back.
So, that was a no, then? It would take a lightning bolt to convince her he was worth the cost of her kiss and perhaps her dreams. Braving a peek at the twilight sky, Ryder sighed. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.
He’d wanted to kiss her, and she’d almost let him.
“Beth, you all right?” Granny looked up as Elizabeth started collecting empty dishes from the food table. From the stage, Buck and some of the others were winding down the night by singing hymns with Aubrey and Summer.
“Of course.” Her words caught as she stacked empty glass platters. “Wh-why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know, except you’re collecting everyone’s dishes but ours.”
“Right.” Elizabeth set the dishes down, then reached for a napkin to wipe deviled eggs off her hands. “What can I do to—”
“Come on, Beth.” Will walked by, taking her by the arm. “I need a cornhole partner.”
“Oh, okay.” As much as she loved cornhole, she was a bit distracted by the arms and eyes and presence of Ryder Donovan.
“I see Will brought in a ringer,” Pops said, standing at the game with his partner, Grant Hanson from Dorsey. “Well, well.”
“Blame yourself, Pops.” Elizabeth picked up the square green bags. “You taught me.” But to Will she whispered, “I’ve not played in a long time.”
“You still throw the best flop of anyone here.”
During her high school summers, the cousins cut her no slack as she learned, so she practiced. And got good. But it’d been a minute.
Will lined up on the opposite side of the board with Grant Hanson. Elizabeth stood next to Pops.
“I knew teaching you would come back to bite me. Watch out for her, Grant, she’s almost mastered the flop.”
“Almost?” Elizabeth grinned.
It was determined Pops would throw first. He bent slightly forward, jiggling his bag in his hand and, with a quick flick of his wrist, landed his famous slide shot, crowding the hole to prevent her from scoring.
“Got a question for you, Beth,” he said as he threw his second bag.
“I know your head games.” Speaking of which, Elizabeth had to push thoughts of Ryder out of hers. “They won’t work on me.”
“Why are you going? To graduate school?” He airmailed his third bag, landing in the hole.
She glanced at him with a spark of irritation. “Not going there, Pops.” She winced as he almost holed his fourth bag with the flop shot. “Someone’s been practicing.”
Grant praised Pops while Will shouted strategy to Elizabeth. Stepping up, she was about to throw her first bag when Pops said, “I think you should take the Dorsey CFO job.”
“I don’t.” But he’d rattled her. Her first toss, an air mail, missed and slid off the board.
“That’s okay, Beth. You got this,” Will said.
“Did you know I went to Harvard after Vietnam?”
Elizabeth peered at Pops, jiggling her second bag. “You what?”
“I went to Harvard,” Pops said.
“Will, did you know Pops went to Harvard after Vietnam?” she asked.
“He mentioned it. Beth, less arm, more wrist when you throw.”
Elizabeth’s second air mail landed on the edge of the board. But at least she was on the board.
“I had no business being at Harvard,” Pops said.
“I didn’t have any scholarly interest. I was just doing it because my pride wanted a Harvard diploma hanging on my wall.
After all, I’d been in a war no one really wanted to fight.
I survived. I was a man.” Pops paused as Elizabeth tossed her third bag.
A slide that just touched the rim of the hole.
“But deep down, I knew I wanted to take over your great-grandpa’s business here in Hearts Bend. ”
“So you quit?” Elizabeth held onto her final toss. “Where was Granny in all of this?”
“Pregnant with your Aunt Barbara, working to help pay the rent on our dinky apartment. Meanwhile, I was skipping classes and playing pool at a local joint. One evening, as I pretended to study, I looked out the window to see my pregnant wife slipping on the icy sidewalk as she walked home from work. She was carrying a sack of groceries. The food went everywhere. I ran down to help her, stopping dead in my tracks when I heard her crying.”
Elizabeth made her final throw. Finally, her airmail toss landed in the hole. After tallying the score, Pops and Grant were up four points.
“How come I never heard this story before?” Elizabeth said as Grant began tossing.
Pops shrugged. “I tell it when it needs to be told. That night, as I lay in bed, pondering my life, I heard this loud voice in here.” He patted his chest. “That I was proud. Too proud to admit Harvard wasn’t for me. Too proud to tell your Granny the truth.”
Grant’s bag landed just short of the hole.
“Good tossing, Grant,” Pops called.
“I’m not married, Pops. I have no children.” She turned to her partner. “Will, do a flop shot and jump over Grant’s bags.”
“It’s the principle of the thing,” Pops said. “Will, nice flop shot. Grant, we’ve been hoodwinked.”
“How is it the principle of the thing? Will, wow, you holed all four.” Elizabeth collected her team’s bags. “I appreciate everything you’ve said, Pops.” Her first airmail shot landed in the hole. “But I’m not you.”
Suddenly, a chorus of shouts cut through the night. “There’s a fire at Cheatham.”
Men and women scattered, hollering to one another. Granny stepped off the deck, dish towel in hand, her expression sober.
“Grant, Will, let’s go.” Pops dropped his cornhole bags and ran for the house. Elizabeth spotted Ryder running to his truck and caught up to him.
“Is there really a fire?”
“I don’t know.” He climbed inside the cab. “But I smell smoke.”
Sirens began to fill the air. Party guests dissipated. From a clearing in Granny and Pops’s front yard, Elizabeth could see small tendrils of smoke circling above the western trees.
“Fire,” she whispered. And Ryder was heading straight for it.