Chapter 3
ambrose
I stared out the window. I’d been hooked up to an IV backstage, but even the vitamin infused saline couldn’t combat the state I’d been in.
But Ambrose couldn’t just go to a hospital. No, that was a media circus and a half.
Instead, I’d been planted here in a private clinic with hushed hallways and quiet nurses treating me like I was a second away from rehab. Part of me wished it was rehab. At least that was a twelve-step program I was familiar with.
Been there, done that, wrote a song about it.
This was more insidious.
I was soul tired. Wrung out beyond a limit I didn’t think was possible.
“Amber?”
My head swiveled at the name.
Very few people called me Amber.
My eyes filled. “Mom?”
Sadie Dalton was a rounder and softer version of me. The same blond hair, though she had a bit of tinsel in it as she liked to call it. Her big gray eyes showed lines at the corners from the sun and a perpetual smile.
“Oh, baby.” She rushed in and wrapped her arms around me.
“What are you doing here?”
“Cindy called me. Your dad is talking to the doctors.”
“She shouldn’t have worried you.” But I buried my face into her soft sweater anyway. Her familiar vanilla scent brought up a sob I hadn’t realized was sitting in my chest.
“Of course she should have.” She sat next to me on the bed. “It shouldn’t take one of your friends to let us know you were so unwell.”
I sniffled and swiped at the tears. “I’m just tired. The tour was long.”
“You didn’t even tell us you were in town.”
“I was going to. I meant to. But it wasn’t close enough and I know you hate to drive.” But they drove here to me anyway. The clinic was just outside of Manhattan. I didn’t even remember the journey, I’d been so out of it.
“Silly, we would have been there.” My mom set me back. “We’re always so proud of you.”
“I know. I just know you hate it.”
“We don’t hate it, sweetie. We just feel out of place with all your famous friends.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
And I did. My life was so far removed from my hometown of Haven, NY. I bounced from my London flat to my Manhattan loft the most. After Julian, California had lost its luster.
Maybe I could ask my mom to stay with me for a while in the city.
She pushed my hair out of my face. “We’re taking you home.”
“What?”
“Yes. The tour is done so you have no other reason to say no.”
“But I have—”
“No, you don’t have anything on the schedule. You scared your whole team, Amber Noel.”
I winced. Middle name meant business.
“We’re here to collect you.” The booming voice at the door made the waterworks start all over again.
“Daddy.”
Thomas Dalton was an imposing man. Over six feet and barrel chested, he was dressed for a day in the fields with his canvas pants and flannel shirt in the familiar dark green plaid. I could practically smell the burned leaves on him from across the room.
“No arguments. I just spoke to your doctor. You’ll be good enough to travel tomorrow. We’re bringing you home through the holidays.”
I frowned. A visit was one thing, but three months at home? Absolutely not.
Before I could open my mouth, my mom clutched my hand. “Let us take care of you for a while, baby. It’ll be good for you to get away from the cameras and the fans. Lucy and Charlie miss you.”
“I miss them too.”
“Then it’s settled.” My mom looked over at my dad. “We’re taking you home.”
I was too tired to argue. I pulled my mother’s hand up to my cheek. “That sounds nice.”
“Just rest. I’ll be right here.”
I closed my eyes and relaxed for the first time in a long time.
The next morning, I wasn’t quite as excited about the trip back to Haven.
At least my mother had convinced my father to drive the Bronco I’d bought them a few years ago.
Me being squashed in between them on the bench seat of my dad’s old Chevy truck for the four hour drive would have been awful.
Not that it really mattered, I kept falling asleep on the long, boring drive.
The sound of a door shutting drew me out of slumber with a start. I sat up and blinked, rubbing at my eyes. The familiar red sign for Angelito’s made my stomach roar to life.
My mother rolled down her window and took the brown bag from my father. The greasy scent of onion rings and fish fries made my mouth water.
My dad got in the other side and handed me a milk shake with a thick straw.
The sound of my personal trainer’s voice in the back of my head made me pause, but then I snatched it out of my dad’s hand. The peanut butter and chocolate sang on my tongue. I drank deeply.
“No one makes it like Angelito,” I said on a sigh.
My dad laughed. “Had a feeling you needed one.”
I leaned forward between the seats and filched an onion ring from the tray and happily munched as my father pulled into traffic. I wasn’t even sure what day it was, but Destiny Street was always busy.
Fall was in full swing. Mums decorated every shop stoop along with water dishes for pets on the sidewalk between buildings.
The huge bay window of the Dreamer Bookshop was filled with books and knitwear.
Tiny twinkle lights wrapped around a stack of books artfully arranged to show off gorgeous romance and fantasy.
It made me want to crawl out of my cocoon for precisely three seconds before I settled back into the nest my mother had created for me in the backseat. “Is that new?”
My mom turned around in her seat then followed my gaze. “Oh, yes. Madeline’s granddaughter took over the old shoe store and decided to make it her own. She’s all over those social media sites. Tok something?”
I laughed. “TikTok, Mom.”
“Right. I only open the links there when your aunt Shirley sends them to me.” She turned back to face the front.
I curled the blanket my mom had provided around me as I watched the town out my window. I’d been so busy the last five years I’d only come home a few times. Each time had been hurried, with my head barely coming up from my phone as I took care of details that always seemed to need my attention.
Even with a team of assistants, I liked to be as in control of my career as possible. From collaborations to appearances, the first few years I’d been at the mercy of the label’s whims. I still was for all intents and purposes, but I’d wrangled a bit of autonomy in the studio.
Except around Christmas.
That one I’d never get back.
We turned off Destiny Street and into the more rural parts of Haven. A good mix of farms and housing developments dotted the hilly landscape. My breath caught as I noticed the old Reynolds farm.
Tate.
I swallowed against the flash of memory.
The summer that almost was.
I shook off the wispy strings of the past, then frowned. Were there more horses now? And it also looked as if it was mid-construction.
I sat up straight. “What’s going on with the farm?”
“Oh, wait until you see. Lots of changes since you’ve been home, honey.”
I swiveled my head at the addition to what once had been a small ranch style home. The Reynolds family had been our neighbors for as long as I could remember. The last thing I’d heard, the farm had gone into foreclosure as many of the family businesses in the area had.
The current state of affairs in the United States didn’t reward small farms.
But then the familiar lines of my parent’s farmhouse wiped out any other thought. I was too tired to ask questions about the changes right now. I just wanted to see Lucy and Charlie and sleep for another week.
After I sold my first million copies of “Christmas Fire,” I’d paid off the second mortgage my parents ended up taking out to save our own farm.
My father had been happy to retire after I had my first sold-out tour.
I’d had all the outdated and worn aspects of the house updated and gave my mother her dream kitchen.
They hadn’t wanted to move, but they appreciated the facelift I’d been able to afford to give them.
Now they just had a handful of chickens for eggs, ornery twin goats named Menace and Trouble, and my dad’s beloved palomino Sandy.
The familiar sound of gravel shifting under the tires untied a knot in my chest I hadn’t realized was there. I opened the door before my dad put the Bronco in park.
The deep bark and thundering paws had me falling to my knees on the grass as Lucy and Charlie came tearing around the corner. Lucy, our Great Pyrenees, knocked me flat on my back and licked my face as Charlie, our border collie, ran around us in circles with a happy bark.
“I missed you too, Lu.” I sunk my fingers into her dense white fur and rubbed her jowly face. “My sweet girl.” I laughed as I turned my face to avoid more drool. “Okay, okay.”
Lucy, never one to move unless it was her idea, simply sat right on top of me.
The breath whooshed out of me as Charlie took over the licking.
“Okay, you two. Let her get in the door.” My mother laughed.
Lucy pressed her big nose into my neck. “I’m not going anywhere, Lu.”
Not that I blamed her for disbelieving me. I was lucky if I spent more than a single night on the farm in the last few years. I hugged her back and finally she got off me with a little whine and trotted over to the big oak tree where she napped most of the day away.
Charlie got a good scratch before he took off to annoy the goats in the pasture.
My dad held out a hand. “Need help up?”
I took his hand because I really wasn’t sure I could get up on my own power.
He hauled me up as if I weighed nothing and pulled me into a hug for good measure.
And the familiar scent of Old Spice and crushed leaves brought a few tears to my eyes.
I leaned on him for a minute, before he slung his arm around my shoulders and ushered me toward the front porch.
“I’m glad you’re home, kiddo.”
“Me too.”