Nights Under the Tennessee Stars

“Feel free to use my office if you want to talk more privately,” Erin offered, gesturing to the area where they’d met the day before. Excusing herself, she walked over to greet her customers.

Leaving Remy with his crying teen and completely out of his depth. Damn it. He’d struggled to force himself back into a routine after Liv had died, convinced something would happen to Sarah if he left town again. But Sarah’s counselor had been adamant that he wasn’t doing the teen any favors by coddling her. Yet, look what happened when he left?

“Sarah, come sit.” He drew her toward the back room. It wasn’t totally private, but he didn’t want to go to the car and be on display on the town’s main street. Plus, driving anywhere right now was out of the question. He couldn’t believe his just-turned-eighteen-year-old daughter had traveled well over five hundred miles by herself. Without telling him, let alone asking his permission. Hard to believe the girl who had once texted him eight times from cheerleading tryouts with updates on the final cuts would not even bother to discuss this trip with him.

He’d asked Sarah’s grief counselor about her risk-taking behavior a year ago, but at the time, the woman’s professional opinion had been that sporadically cutting class, lower grades and one nightmarish episode of underage drinking were “normal” teenage incidents. As a parent, how was he supposed to tell the difference?

“Can you just call Ms. Fairly?” Sarah blurted, twisting the end of her long, brown braid where it rested on one shoulder. “I thought you’d be at the bed-and-breakfast, so I went there first, hoping you could contact her before she found out I was gone. But now it’s getting late. I’m going to be in so much trouble unless you tell her I’m with you.”

Frustrated and trying his damnedest to keep a lid on it, he placed his hands on Sarah’s thin shoulders. Was it his imagination, or did Erin’s eyes track the drama in the back room while she helped her customer?

“In a minute. I’m not calling your teacher until I have the answers to the questions I know she’s going to ask me.” He set Sarah’s phone on the wooden counter that Erin used for a workspace. “Like why did you leave the field trip without my permission?”

She could have broken down on the way to Heartache. A pervert could have stopped under the guise of helping...

Remy’s chest constricted.

“That’s the thing.” Sarah swiped her eyes, which were a different shade of green than her mother’s had been. Her biological father was a high school classmate of Liv’s and he’d wanted nothing to do with Liv or Sarah after he’d found out Liv was pregnant. Later, the guy had used his computer skills to hack a system that should have been secured by the Department of Defense, and had been in jail for as long as Remy had known Liv. “Just tell her I had your permission. Like it was a family emergency or something and you left a message that she must have just missed.”

Remy heard Erin making small talk with her customers and greeting a few more who walked into the store. He watched her stride off toward the back to retrieve something off a nearby shelf. He kept his voice low as he spoke to his daughter.

“If you’re going to ask me to lie, I think I have the right to know why.” He’d really thought Sarah was on track with school after the bumps in the road at the end of her junior year.

Mouth falling open, she gave him a look that suggested he needed a brain transplant for asking the question.

“To see you!” She jabbed one finger onto the wooden workstation as if making a point. “How many times have you said you wished you could stay closer to home for your work?”

Guilt pummeled him even as he felt Erin’s gaze on him again. “It’s not easy, Sarah—”

“I get that.” She shrugged at him. “So I made it easy for you. I don’t need to be on that field trip since I don’t care about college. I want field experience in television and who better to shadow for a week than my own dad?”

Remy had spent enough years on the winning side of a conference table to recognize when he’d been beaten. Either his daughter had a great point or she’d just played him extremely well. But at this moment, it truly didn’t matter. She was here—five hundred miles from where she was supposed to be—and he didn’t have time to leave the job and personally escort her home. Just thinking about all the things that could have happened to her on the road alone threatened to send him back into another panic attack. His forehead broke out in a cold sweat.

“Remy?” Erin called from the other side of a clothing rack. “Can I talk to you for one quick second?”

He glanced up, in no mood to think about anything but Sarah at the moment.

Erin waved him over.

Stepping away from his daughter, he regretted having this discussion with Sarah here. He wasn’t thinking clearly.

“What?” He was terse, but not nearly as terse as he felt.

“I have no right to make a suggestion, but I’m going to advise you not to lie for her or she’ll never learn how to be accountable for her own actions.”

Remy shook his head. “Seriously? You’re giving me parenting advice? Do you have kids?”

She frowned. Bristled. “You looked like you were drowning. I thought I’d send you a lifeline since you didn’t seem to know what to do.”

And didn’t that just get on his last nerve? How many times had he struggled with not knowing how to string words together in the year after Liv had died? With losing his train of thought in the middle of talking? He thought he’d kicked both those problems pretty damn well, so it ticked him off that Erin was finding fault when he was holding it together just fine.

“I know what I’m doing,” he said between gritted teeth.

Her shoulders straightened. “Fine. I’m sure I know nothing about teenagers since I have no kids of my own.”

She stalked off, back ramrod straight.

He’d won that battle, but now he was going to have to make nice with Erin all over again if he wanted her to stay on board for the show. He turned back to Sarah and drew her deeper into the back room.

“Daddy, please,” she started, her pleading tone grating when he had already decided to do what she’d asked.

He just wasn’t going to lie for her.

“This discussion is not finished,” he barked at her. “I’m going to call Ms. Fairly and deal with that end of the problem, but I have a major issue with you deciding to leave school on your own. You may be eighteen, but you’re still under my roof, which makes you accountable to me for your actions. We’ll revisit that later.”

The relief on her face—her wide smile exactly like her mom’s—reminded him of when he’d first met Sarah as an outgoing eleven-year-old. She’d charmed him even then, inviting him to her dance recital after he’d applauded her pirouettes on Liv’s kitchen floor when he had visited their place to buy an original painting from the up-and-coming local artist—his future wife.

Later, her art had expanded to gardening and then perfumes, her creativity knowing no boundaries. Remy had wanted to give her every opportunity she’d never had growing up or while raising Sarah alone, so he’d tried to help her develop her talents.

On impulse, he leaned over to brush a kiss on Sarah’s forehead.

She maintained a weary, indulgent smile. “Seriously, though. My teacher will freak out unless you sweet-talk her.”

While Sarah punched in the number and dialed, Remy’s eyes found Erin. She was accepting an armful of clothes on hangers from a woman wearing a bright orange caftan and head scarf. He wondered what drove Erin to be such an activist even as he told himself to stay away from her. She was going to be on one of his television shows. Nothing more.

He didn’t appreciate her telling him how to parent his daughter when she had no idea what Sarah had been through. Bad enough the girl had a felon for a biological father. Now she had no mother and her adoptive father was coming up short on the parenting front.

He switched into father mode as Sarah’s teacher answered the call. He made excuses and apologies for Sarah’s absence, keeping his explanation as vague as possible until he’d had time to talk to his daughter’s counselor about their next move. He didn’t doubt for a minute that the school would expel her if she got into any more trouble, especially considering some of the stunts she’d pulled the year before. He would talk to her about it. Make sure she was level or send her back to the counselor.

Maybe it was just as well she was here where he could keep an eye on her since he was spending half his time worrying about her anyway. He couldn’t afford anything happening to her while he was gone—like another drinking episode. If Sarah was this serious about needing his attention, he planned to make certain she had it.

By the time he finished speaking to the teacher—assuring her he’d come in for a meeting to discuss the issue as soon as he returned to Miami—he noticed Sarah had her head down on the table, arms folded.

“All set,” he told her, passing back her phone.

Only to realize she’d fallen asleep right there.

Crap. Now what?

A stress headache promised to level him any moment now. He gripped his temples and squeezed tight.

“Everything okay?” Erin asked, appearing at the open entryway between the back room and the rest of the store.

She stared at Sarah and then at him, her new bronze highlights catching the overhead light. He told himself to pull it together. Now that Sarah had passed out on Erin’s table, there was no pressing need to get out of the store.

“I suppose everything is all right. Until the next crisis that comes with having a teenager.” He tucked Sarah’s phone in his pocket for safekeeping. “Sorry I didn’t get to introduce the two of you before she conked out. That’s my daughter, Sarah.”

Erin watched him with a wariness that he hadn’t seen in her before. She carried an armful of clothes on hangers.

“You’re married?” She spoke the words carefully, enunciating each syllable with an awkwardness that felt uncomfortable.

Or was that just his imagination? Sometimes he felt as though the whole world must know he was a widower, as if that grief had been permanently etched into his features at all times. He knew he should probably get out of Erin’s store and take Sarah with him, but finding out what his daughter had done had thrown him for a major loop. He was exhausted, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Besides, Sarah looked as though she could sleep for three days straight, her right arm pillowing her head and her braid draped over her chin.

Poor kid.

“I was married. My wife died two years ago.” Because of him. Even then, he’d been on the road too much. Was the answer to quit his job? To make sure Sarah was safe and stayed out of trouble for the rest of her senior year?

Too bad he couldn’t come close to affording it. He needed to work to bring his finances back in line to pay for Sarah’s college tuition.

Erin’s expression shifted in predictable ways. Empathy, sympathy, a trace of pity.

He’d become adept at picking out all three in people’s faces. More so once they’d heard how she’d died.

Something he would not be sharing today as he was still recovering from the shock of seeing Sarah. He brushed a hand across his forehead, the skin cold and damp.

“I’m so sorry.” Erin laid the garments on a credenza. “That must be hard for both of you.”

Her eyes went to Sarah, for which he was grateful.

“I thought she was doing better.” He watched his daughter’s shoulders rise and fall ever so slightly with each breath. “It’s tough to tell what behaviors are normal teen drama and what things are in reaction to her mom’s death—the things I should be watching out for.”

“So she drove herself all the way up here?” Erin filled a coffeepot at a utility sink against one wall. “From Miami?”

He noticed she hadn’t apologized for butting in regarding his parenting. Then again, maybe she wasn’t sorry.

“She was in Gainesville on a school trip.” Was Sarah really serious about wanting experience in television? He’d dismissed it in the past when she’d asked to join him, assuming she was merely trying to take a few days off from school. “That put her several hours closer. But still...she had to have been driving for nine hours.”

“No wonder she’s exhausted. Thank goodness she made it here safely. Want some coffee? I don’t know if you’re going to move her anytime soon.” Erin spooned coffee grounds into the machine, the storefront quiet for the moment except for Sarah’s light snores coming between measured breaths. “I’m surprised she knew to look for you here.”

“I gave her a rough itinerary before I left.” Thank God she was safe. He wanted to just stare at his daughter and rejoice in that fact. “And I did mention stopping by here to the woman who runs the bed-and-breakfast.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion after these past few days. “And please, no need to make any coffee for me. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I recover from the heart attack of seeing Sarah.”

“You’re staying at Heartache B and B?” Erin asked, flipping the switch that turned the coffeepot to brew. “Just so you know, telling Tansy Whittaker spreads news faster than Twitter in this town.”

The dry note in her voice made him smile in spite of the crap kind of day he was having.

“Today, that turned out to be a good thing.” He didn’t need Sarah getting any more upset. Her tears and worry were painful for him.

“Amen to that.” Erin nodded slowly, her blue eyes resting on Sarah again. “Is she your only child?”

“Yeah.” The sound of the coffee percolating filled the silence as it stretched, strangely comfortable, between them. He wished he hadn’t snapped at Erin, even if he hadn’t appreciated her advice. “I adopted Sarah when I met her mom. Actually, maybe Sarah adopted me first. She’s got a powerhouse personality. She’s all in when she likes someone.”

“My father was like that—very magnetic. He was the mayor of Heartache for almost fifteen years before he died.” Erin’s gaze shifted to his. “I always admired that charismatic side of him.”

“You were the mayor’s daughter while you were growing up?” Sarah’s phone buzzed with incoming messages, so he reached into his pocket to turn it off.

“Just during my teenage years.” Erin’s expression closed. She definitely wasn’t one to talk about herself. “So what are you going to do with her now that she’s here? Will you have to return home sooner than planned?”

“No.” He knew that much from discussions with her counselor in the past. It didn’t help the situation to adjust his life to suit her, even though families healing from grief sometimes did just that in an effort to ensure their kids never experienced any other obstacles. “I’m fortunate to have maintained my job despite long absences after Liv’s death. I can’t shortchange the show now.”

It was true enough, and it spared him from having to discuss the show’s loss of ratings and the need to bolster it to keep it afloat.

“At the risk of having you accuse me of overstepping, was your daughter having problems at school? Is that why she drove all this way to see you?” Erin reached into an overhead cabinet and pulled out two mismatched mugs and a sugar container.

“No. Actually, I don’t know. She’s been asking me not to travel as much, but I thought that was because she liked being at our place instead of staying with an older couple when I leave town.” Did he really know what had been going on at school lately? Maybe he had just figured no news was good news. “But now she says she doesn’t care about college and she wants to go into television, so it makes sense to watch me work firsthand. She does have spring break coming up, so...”

“Are you sure you don’t want some coffee?” Erin asked, pouring a cup for herself before the whole pot finished brewing.

“No, thanks. I should settle Sarah back into her own room at the bed-and-breakfast, I guess. I had checked out this morning, thinking I’d find a place on the road closer to my next stop, but maybe now that she’s here, it’ll be easier to make this my home base for a few more days. I can’t take her with me everywhere.” It wasn’t feasible. Sarah should understand that.

“Heartache makes a nice home base.” Erin added sugar to her cup.

Damn, but parenting was difficult.

“I know I overreacted when you were trying to help before—”

Erin narrowed her eyes. “Just because I don’t have kids doesn’t mean I’m clueless in the ways of teenagers.”

“Right.” He told himself not to get defensive. She hadn’t said his parenting sucked. Just that she wanted to help. “So now I’m asking for your opinion.” He needed to make nice with her, for one thing. And for another...he really was curious. “Do you really think her driving all the way up here means something’s wrong at school? I know you don’t know her well. I just wonder about your gut reaction. Does that sound like a red flag for a teenager?”

“I don’t know if it means problems at school, but if you want me to be totally honest...”

“Please.” He grabbed the empty coffee mug and poured himself a cup after all. He might need the caffeine to get himself through this day.

Erin stepped out of his way, giving him access to the sugar.

“Then honestly, it shouts red flag in my book. If not school issues, there could be friend trouble or boy problems. My niece went through a rough patch last year and I know that stuff causes kids a lot of stress. As we get older, we forget how life-and-death everything is at that age—the emotions, the fears...”

Remy gulped the scalding coffee.

“You’re right.” Damn it, he needed to figure out what was going on with his daughter.

“But I think it’s great she wanted to see you.” Erin sipped her drink out of a stoneware mug that looked as though it had been hand painted. “A lot of teenage girls wouldn’t turn to their fathers for help.”

Something about the way she said it suggested she would have never turned to her own father—the father beloved by all of Heartache. What had it been like growing up in such a small town in a well-known family?

He sighed. “Maybe she just knows who the pushover is.” He didn’t appreciate Sarah’s insistence that he “sweet-talk” the teacher. Worse, it bugged him that he’d done exactly that.

“I think it speaks well of your relationship.” Erin’s rings clanked against the mug handle as she set down the cup.

She wore a black dress today with a black vinyl apron that suggested she planned to do a bit of crafting. The short sleeves on her dress exposed a brightly colored tattoo. Vines twisted around one arm and disappeared up into her sleeve.

He must have taken too long to answer because he became aware of her staring at him.

“Is there anything else I can do?” she asked, making him realize he’d stood there too damn long, taking over her store and her office with his personal problems.

It must be the odd thread of attraction he experienced that had his feet rooted to the floor, but it had been nice having someone to talk to about Sarah’s behavior. Someone who wasn’t a shrink and didn’t connect everything in their lives back to Liv. A year ago, that thought would have felt disloyal to her memory. But now he owned it for what it was—plain and simple truth.

“No.” He set down the cup and straightened. “I’ll wake Sarah and get out of your hair.”

“There’s no rush—”

“I’ve imposed on your goodwill enough in the past few days.” He jammed his hands into his pockets to make sure things didn’t become more personal than they already were. “I’m glad you’re going to do the show, Erin. I’m not going to risk scaring you off now.”

He tested out the smile that worked with other people, but, true to form, it seemed to fall flat on Erin. She frowned.

“Remy, I’m scared off by slick, big-city manners, so please don’t feel you need to pile on the charm for my sake. If we’re going to work together, I’d rather know the real you than the television sham.”

And wasn’t that a wake-up call in his day?

“I’ve got a whole lot more real where this comes from.” He shook his head. “Too much.” He laid a hand on Sarah’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Come on, Sarah. Time to go.”

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