Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
BELLA
It isn’t long before Jackson and I are heading back to Fork Lick.
You can take the Fork out of the man, but you can’t keep the man out of the Lick . Or something like that. Whatever the saying might be, we need to get back to see his family. We’ve been living together in LA for three weeks since my return from Australia, in a total honeymoon state once again.
After the scandal of Jackson’s news, coupled with all the other musicians speaking out about Artie’s treatment of them and generally shady business practices, something incredible occurred.
Artie and the label offered to release Jackson from the automatic contract renewal.
Of course Artie phrased it like he was doing some enormous, benevolent favor . But it doesn’t matter. Artie’s career is ruined because of this, and Jackson is free. That’s the most important thing.
Jackson’s label still owns all those songs, but we’re working on a plan for that too.
We’ll figure it out. Together.
And what Jackson initiated by speaking out about the truth of his situation stands to change the recording industry forever. A not-so-little footnote that I love to remind him of.
We coast into Fork Lick in a sexy luxury rental car—not because he’s pinching pennies avoiding a chauffeur, but because we want to vacation this way. After all, we’re not just coming to Fork Lick. We plan to continue to Ohio after a week here. Since he signed an exclusive tour deal with Global Entertainment for the songs he created for the Strawberry Jam, he’s been handsomely compensated. Finally, he’s seeing the money he deserves from his hard work…and the freedom that comes with it.
Bedd Fellows Farm is bustling with activity as we pull into the driveway. It’s been over three months since I last set foot here, but it’s felt like an entire year. It’s mid-September and, bizarrely, the stage still stands from the Strawberry Jam. I could have sworn they’d taken it down.
The soybean fields are lush and green, though I know the leaves will soon start to yellow. Baabara pokes her head out from the palace as soon as we pull in, her beady little eyes lighting up. Her wool has grown back since her summer shearing, and she gallops out of the palace, blocking the car from advancing any further. She baas excitedly.
“Jackson and Bella are here!” Ethel’s voice rings through the air, and she breezes out of the house a moment later, all smiles. Jackson makes quick work of slipping out of the car just as Baabara comes clomping his way. She headbutts him a few times, making it impossible for him to come around the car. Ethel holds out her arms for a hug, and I greet her warmly.
“It’s been too long, Ethel,” I murmur into her soft, gray braid. “I missed you all so much.”
“I’m so glad you both are here.” She holds my face for a moment, searching my eyes, and then releases me to battle past Baabara for a hug from Jackson. It’s Sunday, and we’re just in time for dinner—thank God. I would have been upset if we’d missed it.
Jackson and Ethel round the car, his arm slung around his gran, Baabara stomping close behind. Inside the house, it’s a sea of familiar faces and joyous greetings. Ethan heads first to hug Jackson, then me. Alex and Sam crowd around Jackson next, and I overhear snippets of how proud they are of him. My heart is full to bursting as I greet Lia, Molly, Diane, Colleen, Bacon, and the twins. Nobody bats an eye as Baabara traipses in along behind us.
Our family.
Because that’s what it feels like for me, here. Even though we’re not blood, we’re family.
The kitchen and dining room is raucous as we all get settled and ready for dinner. Ethel brings out the dishes of food, Jackson helping. Baabara settles right next to Jackson at the end of the table, keeping an eye on him as he plates food and chats happily with his siblings. Everyone has a million questions at once— When did we get back together? How was Australia? What the hell happened with Artie? Is Jackson really free now?
We do our best to answer them all, but every answer spawns three more questions. It turns out this label and agent scandal of Jackson’s has been the talk of Fork Lick since it came out last month.
“Hang on, hang on,” Jackson says, waving his fork in the air as he chews a bite of roast. “Let’s pause the questions for a second. Because I have the only question that matters.”
“What’s that, Jackie Boy?” Ethel sips from her glass of water.
“Why the hell is the stage back up?” Jackson asks with a laugh, cutting another bite of roast. “I helped break that thing down myself. What’s the deal?”
Ethan, Alex, Sam, and Colleen all share conspiratorial looks.
“It’s funny you ask…” Colleen starts.
“We had an idea,” Alex says gruffly.
Sam clears his throat. “An excellent idea.”
“We want to make the Strawberry Jam an annual event,” Ethan says, crossing his arms. “And while it’s there, we could host other events too, if we want.”
“Turn it into something of a passive income thing,” Alex adds.
“There’s never been anything cooler than putting on that show with my family,” Ethan says resolutely. “I say we do it again.”
“And again,” Colleen adds. “For many more years to come!”
Jackson grins at his siblings, then looks over at Ethel. “And you agree with this? Even with how much pressure it puts on the land?”
“Wholeheartedly,” Ethel says. “And so does Baabara, don’t you?”
Baabara bleats softly from the end of the table.
“We don’t care what you play,” Alex says, looking at Jackson. “As long as you join us.”
Jackson looks over at me, his eyes shining as he reaches for my hand. “I might be able to play some of the hits next year after all.”
Lia gasps. “Don’t toy with me—is that true?”
“Bella and I figured out a way to get the rights back to my music,” Jackson says proudly, squeezing my hand. “I’m going to re-record everything, like Taylor Swift did. New versions, basically. That way, I’ll own the new version, and I’m free to play it where and when I want.”
There’re whoops and claps around the table. Jackson and I trade cheek-splitting smiles.
“Let’s pencil in the next Strawberry Jam then,” Colleen says.
“I’ll try to bring my family next year,” I say. “I think they’d love the farm and you all.”
“That’s where we’re heading after this,” Jackson says, reaching for his water glass. “We’re going to Bayshore.”
“Time to start meeting the Keegans, huh?” Ethan asks with a wink.
As the conversation launches into what we might expect to find in Bayshore, what my family thinks about Jackson, and all the endlessly fascinating details therein, I sit back and let it all wash over me.
This.
This right here is why I left Australia. Why going deeper with Jackson, despite how it might end up, was only ever a good idea.
There’s no substitute for this type of love and support.
I’m so lucky I found it.
And I can’t wait to see just how beautiful and full of love life can be with Jackson at my side.
THE END