Chapter 21
Dax checked in with a few of the people who would be performing this evening. He had asked the most popular acts from previous Harmony Hues nights to return for this final fusion of the season. Everyone invited had agreed to appear this evening, even Joe Morgan, who was a college senior and returned from his civil engineering studies at Texas State in San Marcus.
He had thought to possibly DJ the six to eight slot when people viewed the art and gathered in the town square, nibbling on something they had picked up and sipping beverages from Java Junction. Instead, he had decided to simply put together a playlist. Having upbeat music play over the loudspeakers would lend a party vibe to the atmosphere and keep him from being tied down at a turntable those two hours. In putting together his selections, he made certain to include several popular country songs. Dax had grown fond of the musical genre and had his fledging band rehearsing a few country covers. If they were going to perform at any events in this area, they would definitely need country in their repertoire.
Looking over the residents and visitors who now gathered in the square, he was pleased that the square’s merchants had taken to the idea of holding Harmony Hues outdoors this summer. Many of them extended their Saturday hours in order to accommodate the evenings. Tonight, all would be open late for this final fusion night.
Since it was a minute until six, he decided to address the crowd, moving up the gazebo stairs and picking up the microphone, turning it on.
“Good evening, Lost Creek!” he declared, getting a rousing response. “I’m Dax Tennyson, your host for Harmony Hues.”
The crowd began to settle down, giving him their full attention.
Dax continued. “Ivy Hart and I had an idea a few months ago about celebrating local talent, supporting both artists and musicians, coming together a few times a month to do so. Tonight is the last fusion night of the season. Hopefully, we’ll be back for more next summer. In the meantime, you’ll be able to hear some of the same singers and musicians at Java Junction, my place, on Wednesday and Saturday nights. If you’re interested in performing, please touch base with me.”
He surveyed the crowd and smiled. “I want to thank the people who live here in Lost Creek and those who are visiting it for making Harmony Hues such a success. You’ve got the next two hours to complete your art walk and see what’s available. If you’re interested in buying a piece, let Deke Manchester know.”
By now, Deke knew to be close to the gazebo, and he bounded up the stairs, waving at the crowd.
“You can’t miss Deke,” Dax said. “Not in that bright yellow Hawaiian shirt.”
The crowd laughed as Deke traveled back down the stairs.
“All the merchants on the square will be open until eight o’clock tonight, so I hope that after you’ve seen all the art, you’ll stop in and do a bit of shopping. The sports bar and diner are open for takeout if you want to bring your food outside, and we have a taco truck parked at the north end of the square. I know you’ll all get thirsty at some point, so head over to Java Junction and grab yourself something cool to drink. In the meantime, enjoy yourselves. The musical portion of the evening will start at eight. Thank you.”
Applause filled the air as Dax put on the music, which lent a true party feel to the event. He worked his way through the crowd, proud to know so many of the people in attendance. Although he’d only been in Lost Creek since January and opened for business since March, he felt like a part of this community. He spoke to the mayor. The police chief. The president of the local bank. A doctor. The high school principal. The head football coach. Everyone was friendly and supportive, asking him to make sure he brought back Harmony Hues next spring or summer.
Spying Ivy with Paloma, he noticed the older man with them. He assumed him to be Jameson Polk. Dax weaved through the crowd, making his way to them. He kissed Ivy’s cheek and then turned to greet Paloma.
“Glad you could make it back to Lost Creek, Paloma. I hope you’re enjoying your new gallery and Dallas.”
“Very much, Dax. Thank you for texting me the list of restaurants. I’ve tried all but one of them. Let me introduce you to my boss.” She turned. “This is Jameson Polk. He went to SMU as you did.”
Dax grinned. “Go, Mustangs!”
Jean Bradley came up, drawing Ivy and Paloma’s attention away, so he focused on Polk.
“I hope you’ll have time to walk through all the art on display, Mr. Polk. I know you’ve already seen Ivy’s paintings and know how talented she us.”
The gallery director smiled wryly at Dax. “So, you’re the reason Ivy doesn’t want to come to Dallas.”
It was as if the older man had sucker punched him. “What are you talking about?” he asked, taken aback.
Polk strolled away, stopping at the next easel on display. Dax followed, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
“Ivy Hart is one of the most talented artists I have met. I have over forty years in the business, so I know what I’m talking about.”
“Ivy and I did discuss your conversation with her,” Dax said, carefully measuring his words. “She told me you were interested in representing her work and would put on a show for her early next year. She didn’t have time to share any of the details with me.”
Polk’s gaze met his. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m a Hill Country boy myself, but I don’t think Ivy needs to waste her time here. She’s only painting part-time now because of her job at the tasting room. I told her she needed to move to Dallas and devote herself to painting full-time. I guarantee I can sell every canvas she gives me.”
Again, Dax felt as if he’d been bashed by a sledgehammer out of nowhere. Why hadn’t Ivy mentioned this to him? Then again, he’d been in a rush when he’d seen her and said they could talk more about Polk after tonight’s Harmony Hues ended.
Carefully, he said, “Ivy is very close to her parents and sister. She has a lot of responsibility as the manager of Lost Creek Winery’s tasting room. I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but the winery is undergoing a huge expansion now. The tasting room will triple in size and also include a gift shop. Ivy will be responsible for both of those enterprises. It’s not something she can easily walk away from. Her parents would need to replace her with someone they trusted. Someone who has her remarkable smell and taste for wines, as well as her vast knowledge. Ivy doesn’t take her duties lightly. Right now, she’s enjoying the balance of working at the tasting room and still having time for her art.”
Polk frowned at him. “Should Michelangelo or Da Vinci have worked at another job and merely dabbled with their art? While I don’t mean to compare Ivy to two artistic legends, I believe her talent is being wasted by not dedicating herself fully to her art. Yes, she told me of the winery’s expansion and even mentioned she wished to have a balance between work at the winery, her painting, and her private life. That she needed to spend time with family and friends.”
Polk paused. “I can see a big part of that is devoted to her relationship with you. Don’t hold her back, Dax. If you have something that will last, it can stand up to a separation for now. Ivy needs to be in Dallas, focusing solely on her painting and the upcoming show where I will feature her work. This will be her big break. I can introduce her into and give her access to a world she has only dreamed about. Something tells me you are the only person who could convince her of that.”
From the corner of his eye, Dax saw Ivy and Paloma headed toward them. Jameson Polk must have spied them as well because he pointed to the painting in front of them and began talking about the artist’s technique.
Dax tuned out the man as Ivy slipped her hand around his.
He loved her. She was his life. But he wanted what was best for her. Lawson Everhart had stolen most of Ivy’s twenties, making work demands on her that left her no time to paint. Even Dax could see how talented Ivy was with a brush. If he didn’t persuade her to go to Dallas and pursue this opportunity, he would be as guilty as her former boss of preventing her from spreading her wings and taking the art world by storm.
Squeezing her hand, he thought how different his life would be without Ivy in it. If she were truly going to commit to her art, she didn’t need to be in some long-distance relationship which took away her focus and time.
Much as he loved her, Dax understood it was time to let her go.
He turned to her. Smiling brightly, he said, “I’m going to keep circulating. You’re still coming over at the end of the night?”
Her smile caused his heart to sink. “I plan to be with you all night, Dax Tennyson. Knock ’em dead when you perform.”
They parted and he moved through the crowd, stopping and chatting here and there, his gut churning painfully as he went through the motions. When eight o’clock came, Dax took the stage again, cutting off the music. That was the signal for everyone to have a seat. Some had taken to bringing lawn chairs, while others sat on blankets or the grass itself. A few even perched atop the hoods of their cars parked around the square.
He pushed aside his feelings, owing the best of himself to those gathered, and looked out at the crowed. “We’ve got a great lineup for you tonight,” he said into the mic. “Some of your favorites from the season will be performing. We’re kicking off our last fusion evening with Carolyn and Marcy Tompkins, two talented sisters who will get this party started. Ladies?”
As the pair took the stage, Dax hurried down the gazebo steps. He would concentrate on the music and not his heart, which was painfully shattering with each breath.
Each singer and musician wowed the crowd, and Dax was pleased he’d brought something good to this community, a place he would still be a part of once Ivy left.
Sylvia joined him. “Are you all right, Dax?” she asked, concern in her voice.
“A little sad, seeing Harmony Hues come to an end,” he lied. “Ready for our duet?”
He bounded up the steps and thanked the previous performer, saying, “Before I came to Lost Creek, I hadn’t sung in front of a live audience. I’d written some songs and thought I might perform them in my coffeehouse. Ivy was smart enough to recommend that I take some lessons with Sylvia Moore. I know many of you shared many hours in the high school choir room with her. Sylvia has taken me under her wing, giving me voice lessons, building my confidence. She’s a talented singer in her own right, and I’ve asked for her to sing with me this evening.”
The former teacher climbed the gazebo stairs, and Dax gave her a bear hug.
“We’re doing one of Sylvia’s favorite songs tonight. Islands in the Stream.”
They had rehearsed their duet several times during the last two weeks, and their voices blended together as well as Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers in their original recording of the tune. By the time the song ended, the crowd’s enthusiastic response had Sylvia blushing. She waved and moved down the steps.
Dax waited until they fell silent again. “I’d like to close out the night with a song I performed at the very first fusion night.”
By now, he had located Ivy, who smiled at him. “This one’s for you, Ivy.”
He sang Forever’s Embrace, knowing it would be the last time he would ever play it. Dax got through the song without his voice breaking, but he knew he would never be able to sing the lyrics again, live or otherwise.
He sounded the final note, and the crowd cheered for him. At a moment when he should have been celebrating, he was at the lowest point in his life. Still, he hid his feelings from everyone.
And Ivy.
“Goodnight, Lost Creek! I’ll see you next summer—or hopefully, at Java Junction every morning.”
Dax lifted the guitar strap over his head and set the instrument on a nearby bench. He began unhooking the sound equipment. Scott appeared and helped him bring everything back to the coffeehouse over a few trips. Sean was in the process of closing, along with three other workers. Ivy had followed them and pitched in, picking up a broom and sweeping the floor.
With everyone helping, they wrapped up things within a few minutes, and Dax escorted Ivy up to his apartment, allowing Scott to lock up.
Her cheeks were flushed with the excitement from the evening. “That was definitely the best turnout we’ve had all summer. Deke told me sales were brisk. And Jameson asked to represent one of the potters. All in all, it was a spectacular way to end the series.”
He framed her face with his hands, wanting to freeze this moment and the way she looked in his memory. Kissing her softly, he relished the taste of her. The subtle vanilla scent on her skin. The feel of her curves pressed to him.
Breaking the kiss, he said, “A lot of the success goes to you. We wouldn’t have had a Harmony Hues without your contributions. Your idea to move it outdoors was genius.”
“I’m glad the community supported the idea—and those artists who contributed to it. But enough about fusion. I’m ready to fuse our bodies together, Dallas.”
She yanked his mouth down to hers, and the sparks between them ignited. They kissed hungrily as they tore at one another’s clothes. He lifted her in his arms, taking her to the bed and tossing her atop the mattress, quickly following as his body covered hers. They made love greedily, gobbling one another up, desire engulfing them in flames. Dax tried to memorize Ivy’s every curve, knowing it would be the last time they were together.
When they climaxed, it was an achingly beautiful moment.
He collapsed against her, kissing her for a long time before finally rolling to his side, their limbs entangled. His hand stroked her hair as she rested her cheek against his chest.
“I wish I could have known my parents,” she said, her words surprising him. “I think they would have been proud of the woman I’ve become.”
She turned her head to look up at him, stacking her hands beneath her chin, resting atop them. “I call Bill and Cecily Mom and Dad, but they’re actually my aunt and uncle,” she explained. “My dad and Bill were brothers. We were driving up from Houston to spend Thanksgiving with them. A truck driver fell asleep at the wheel and hit us head on.”
“Were you hurt?” he asked, stroking her hair.
“No. I was only six months old and facing the rear, buckled into my car seat in the back seat. My parents were killed instantly. The police told Bill and Cecily that the car seat saved my life. I had a few bruises, but other than that, I was fine. They adopted me.”
“When did they tell you about the accident?” he asked.
“I was young. About four or five. They never wanted it to be a secret. I had a picture of the three of us—my parents and me—which I kept on my nightstand for a long time. They’ve always treated me as one of their own. Harper and Todd were my siblings. Bill and Cecily have been my parents in every sense of the word. I do think about my birth parents every now and then, though, and wonder what they were like. What our relationship would have been like. Would I have turned out the way I did growing up in their household? Would I have had brothers and sisters?”
Dax pressed his lips to her brow. “I’m sorry you never got to know them.”
“I’ve always felt loved. That’s what Mom and Dad said was most important. I do think of Cecily and Bill as my parents, but I thought it was something you should know about me.”
After Ivy had opened up to him, he hated to hurt her now, but Dax felt he had no choice.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” he asked softly.
He sensed her body tense for a moment before she replied. “No.”
“What about Jameson Polk asking you to come to Dallas?”
She startled, quickly sitting up. “What? He told you that? He had no right to share that with you!”
Dax pushed to a sitting position. “Why didn’t you tell me, Ivy?”
Moonlight poured in the window, illuminating her face, showing how flustered she was.
“There was nothing to tell, Dax. Other than Polk is interested in my paintings. That he wants to represent me and hold a showing for me.”
“He said that you’re wasting your time in Lost Creek, Ivy. You’re playing at painting.” Taking a deep breath, he slowly let it out. “He’s right. You’re too talented to only paint part of the time. You have tremendous potential.”
Anger flushed her cheeks. “Oh, so now you’re an art critic? You want to tell me how to manage my career?”
“You may not have a career if you don’t listen to Polk,” Dax insisted. “He’s been in the business a long time. He sees something special in you. In your work. Don’t blow this chance and stay in Lost Creek just because of me.”
She crossed her arms protectively. “I’m not staying just for you. I have obligations to my family. To the business.” Her mouth set stubbornly.
He shook his head. “The winery was getting along just fine before you came home. Your parents can find a new tasting room manager.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, Dax. Why are you pushing me away?”
Though his heart was breaking, he firmed his resolve. “Because it’s the best thing for you. You let your art remain dormant within you for too long, Ivy. This your chance. An opportunity that might not come along ever again. Hell, Polk could wind up pissed at you and blackball you if you don’t listen to advice. I don’t want that to happen.”
He took her hands, even though she tried to pull away. Bringing them to his lips, he kissed them tenderly.
“Take the leap of faith, Ivy. Go to Dallas.”
“But… what about us?”
He swallowed painfully. “There is no us anymore. I refuse to hold you back. I need to let you go.”
“Even though we love one another?” she asked, her voice small.
“Because we love one another,” he told her. “Ivy, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“We can try long?—”
“No,” Dax said firmly. “You don’t need to waste time on me. Making phone calls. Driving back to Lost Creek every weekend. We need a clean break.”
This time she jerked her hands hard, freeing them. “What if I don’t want that?”
“It’s the best thing for you. For your career. Let’s just be happy for the time we’ve shared.”
She moved from the bed, angrily cursing under her breath as she gathered her clothing. She hurriedly slipped into her clothes, avoiding looking at him. When she finished, she faced him.
“I believed in you. In us.” Her eyes pleaded with him to take back what he had said.
“And I believe in you.” Echoing her words from earlier in the evening, Dax said, “Knock ’em dead, Ivy.”
Hurt filled her eyes, along with tears, which now streamed down her cheeks. Wordlessly, she walked out the room.
And out of Dax’s life.