Restless Heart (2 page)
Authors: Wynonna Judd
Catching Destiny eyeing it, Cooper had said, “Dare you to take a bite.”
“Game on,” was her reply.
Licking the sugary icing from her lips, she’d seen the gleam of admiration in his eyes, and knew she’d made her first friend in Wilmot.
She hadn’t backed down when he’d later dared her to cut through the cemetery alone at night; to call their school principal by his first name, Maurice; to try out for the boys’ varsity football team—not that she’d stood a chance in hell of making it—and she wasn’t about to back down now.
Cooper knew it, and so did she.
“Destiny Hart?” the WKCX DJ boomed.
“She’s right here!” Cooper shot to his feet, pointing at her.
She slapped at his finger. “I’m gonna get you for this.”
“You gotta admit it’s pretty doggone good.” That had come from Annie.
She turned to see her friend grinning at her—no,
past
her, at the oh-so-pleased-with-himself Cooper. Traitor.
past
her, at the oh-so-pleased-with-himself Cooper. Traitor.
Only Seth had the decency to show some concern.
“Seriously, Destiny,” he said in a low voice, touching her bare arm, “you don’t have to get up there and sing.”
“Thanks, but I’m not going to give Cooper the satisfaction,” she replied and shot Seth a grateful grin, hoping he couldn’t tell that her heart was suddenly beating like crazy—and not just because she’d been summoned to the stage.
It had been four years since she’d been introduced to Seth, both literal and figurative boy next door. Two years older than her, the high school’s star pitcher with a steady stream of girlfriends, he’d treated her like a kid sister from the start.
Now he was at the University of Kentucky on a baseball scholarship, living across the driveway for just another two weeks before he’d have to head back. She knew she wasn’t the only girl in town who was going to miss him like crazy—but she was probably the only one who had no intention of letting him know it.
If she did let on that she had feelings for him and he didn’t share them—she was pretty sure he didn’t—their friendship would never be the same. She’d be a fool to risk it—and Destiny Hart was no fool.
“Break a leg.”
Or was she?
Turning away from Seth, she saw Cooper grinning broadly, waiting for her to take the stage on his dare.
“How ’bout I break
your
leg?” she shot back.
your
leg?” she shot back.
Her flip-flops slapped the ground as she stood up and squared her shoulders.
Yeah. I’m definitely a fool.
The audience applauded and she began weaving her way on wobbly knees past lawn chairs, blankets, and coolers, heading for the stage.
Hearing a familiar voice shrieking her name from the crowd, she spotted her sister, Grace, who was sitting with her own group of friends. Just fourteen months older than Destiny, Grace—ever the overprotective big sister—wore a look of alarm. Destiny waved as if this were no big deal.
Seriously . . . it really isn’t. It’s not like you’re some Danny-Kirk Nelson who can’t carry a tune.
She’d been raised on bluegrass, gospel, and classic country; music was one of the few things in her childhood that had been consistent. Her mother sang to her and Grace every night, a lovely lilting quality to her voice that carried Destiny through many a rough patch.
She’d been belting out her favorite songs along with the radio since childhood and taught herself how to play the guitar along the way. Gradually, she’d learned to sing in front of others—in the church choir and at barn dances back at Grandma and Grandpappy’s farm.
She knew she had a strong voice, so if she kept her act together the joke might actually be on Cooper . . .
But that was a big
if
. Singing in front of a polite congregation was very different from an impromptu performance before a huge crowd gathered at the town square mostly to snicker at the lack of talent.
if
. Singing in front of a polite congregation was very different from an impromptu performance before a huge crowd gathered at the town square mostly to snicker at the lack of talent.
Arriving at the stage, she took a deep, steadying breath.
Please don’t let me make a complete fool of myself.
Please don’t let me make a complete fool of myself.
Then she ascended the three steps and smiled at WKCX’s Rex Miller.
“Well, hello there, Destiny Hart.” He bestowed a toothy smile upon her and extended his arm.
“Hello.” Destiny grasped Rex’s hand and gave him a firm handshake just the way her father taught her. “Nice to meet you.”
“Firm grip,” Rex commented, with a knowing wink at the crowd. “But I’m not surprised.” He glanced down at the clipboard in his other hand. “Says here you’re the daughter of retired air force colonel John Hart.”
“Yes, sir, and proud of it,” she replied, generating an enormous roar of approval from the audience.
“As well you should be,” Rex declared with a wave of his hand, milking more applause. “And you’re attending our very own Carrington College in the fall.”
That brought another big cheer from the local audience for the hometown girl; most of the contestants had come from other parts of the Bluegrass state.
“Yes, sir, that’s the plan.”
So far, so good.
She just hoped he wouldn’t ask what she was planning to choose as her major. She’d always thought she’d know by now what she wanted to do with her life, but she still had no clue.
“And it says here that you love to cook, crochet, and ride horses?”
What?
Destiny jammed her hands into her jeans pockets and looked over at Cooper, who was doubled over with laughter.
Destiny jammed her hands into her jeans pockets and looked over at Cooper, who was doubled over with laughter.
“You could say that,” she answered with a tight smile. Just last week, she’d scorched a pan trying to boil water; her mother’s attempts to teach her to crochet had left the yarn and both their stomachs in knots; and the only horseback ride she had ever taken had been a dare that ended in disaster—thanks, of course, to Cooper.
“And you’re going to sing ‘America the Beautiful.’”
“I am?”
Rex Miller tapped his clipboard with his pen. “Says so right here. Seems appropriate on a warm summer evening so close to the Fourth of July. Don’t you think so, ladies and gentlemen?” His query was answered with cheers and whistles.
“Y-yes,” Destiny stammered, grateful that she knew all of the words.
Oh, she was going to get Cooper Sparks big-time for this one. He had better sleep with one eye open. She looked across the lawn at her friends. Annie had her hand over her mouth and Cooper was laughing so hard that he’d toppled out of his lawn chair. But when her gaze landed on Seth, he gave her two thumbs-up of encouragement.
“Are you ready, Destiny Hart?” Rex was asking.
Not on your life.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered aloud.
“Great name by the way. You even sound like a star.”
A cold bead of sweat rolled down her back, but she swallowed her panic and smiled.
Of course it was going to be fine. Her inner strength had never failed her before, right?
Right. Well, except for that unfortunate horseback incident. Of course, she shouldn’t have jumped the creek, but it had been part of Cooper’s dare . . .
Oh, and there was that time when he challenged her to ride that mechanical bull and she flipped over the horns . . .
A long list of I-dare-you-Destiny played through her brain like a slide show: cliff dive, Polar plunge, bungee jump, worm eating (never again), vine swinging, gate crashing . . . the list was endless.
And now this.
“Destiny, are you sure you’re ready?” Rex asked.
The slide show in her head shut off and Destiny nodded. “Yes, sir.”
A hush fell over the crowd and Destiny began to sing.
ONE
Nashville, Tennessee
Four Years Later
“
I
have good news and bad news,” Ralph Weston said. “Which do you want first?”
I
have good news and bad news,” Ralph Weston said. “Which do you want first?”
Of all the ridiculous questions Destiny Hart had been asked since she moved to Nashville to try to make it in the country music business—and there were many—that had to be her least favorite.
Leaning her guitar case against the dingy white wall in the employee break room, she pasted on a smile and turned to face her boss.
“Go ahead—hit me with the bad news,” she answered, just as his cell phone beeped.
“Hang on a second.” Ralph flipped open his phone.
Waiting for him to check his text messages, Destiny held her breath, though she could pretty much guess what he was going to tell her.
Shouldn’t you be used to bad news by now?
she asked herself wearily. Lately, it was one thing after another, capped off by—
she asked herself wearily. Lately, it was one thing after another, capped off by—
No. Don’t even go there.
Every time she thought about what Billy Jackson had done to her, she felt sick inside.
Ralph looked up from his phone at last. “Listen, Destiny, Mandy called a few minutes ago. She’s feeling better and she’ll be able to perform, so we don’t need you to sing tonight after all.”
Destiny deflated. “Oh . . . okay.”
Yep—she’d been right. Mandy Mason pulled this stunt all the time.
Destiny longed to ask Ralph why he put up with such unprofessional behavior, but she already knew the answer. All Mandy had to do was bat her big brown eyes and flip her blond hair, and she had Ralph—and countless other red-blooded men—eating right out of her hand.
Watching Ralph sneak another peek at his text messages, wearing a goofy grin, Destiny couldn’t resist saying, “So she’s feeling much better, huh?”
“Yeah, this text here says she’s making the effort just for me.”
Destiny swallowed a groan. She’d done some crazy things in an effort to catch a break in this business, but flirting with her middle-aged boss was one horse she wasn’t willing to ride.
She cleared her throat loudly.
“Sorry, Destiny.” Ralph glanced up and had the decency to show a little bit of remorse.
Maybe Destiny couldn’t bring herself to flirt, but she had no problem pouncing on Ralph’s guilt. “Well, since I came in, do you think I could sing a song or two? You know, to warm up the crowd for Mandy?” she added with a smile that felt more like a wince.
“Mmm . . .” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Last time we did that Mandy wasn’t none too happy’bout it.”
“Oh . . . really? I wonder why. As I recall, I really had the crowd rockin’. You know, for her benefit, of course.”
Ralph scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. “Mandy said you had the crowd too wound up for her style of singin’. Said you’re too rough around the edges to open for her again.”
Trying not to choke on her anger, Destiny managed to say calmly, “Mr. Weston, it’s Friday night in Nashville. Getting fired up is what it’s all about.”
He didn’t like being called Mr. Weston, but she’d been brought up to respect her elders. She just couldn’t call her boss Ralph or, heaven forbid, Ralphie, as Mandy called him.
“I know you like to get people up on the dance floor a-hootin’ and a-hollerin’ and that’s all well and good, Destiny, but Mandy likes her performance to be all about the music and her voice. You might want to make note of that for future reference.”
And you might want to make a note that Mandy is playing you like a fiddle.
Destiny dug deep for a smile. “I will do that. Now, what’s the good news?”
“The good news is we need you on the floor tonight, so your trip here wasn’t for nothin’.” He eyed her Western-cut fringed shirt. “You’ve got your uniform, I hope?”
“In my locker,” Destiny said glumly. While she needed the money—desperately, thanks to Billy Jackson—she wanted cash from the tip jar, not from waiting tables.
“Good.” Ralph absently checked his phone once more, then added, “Oh and, Destiny?”
“Yes, sir?”
“You might want to pull back that hair of yours.”
“Yes, sir.” Destiny touched the light brown curls tumbling over her shoulders.
“Now get your tail on out there.” Ralph jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “We’re packed.”
She started toward her locker, grumbling under her breath, “Well, isn’t that just great.”
“Excuse me?”
“I . . . uh . . .” She gave him a tight smile. “I said that I just can’t wait.”
“Remember, Mandy likes sweet tea to wet her whistle while she sings. Make sure you keep her glass full with lots of ice and a slice of lemon, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
With Ralph safely out of earshot, Destiny yanked her locker open. “Make sure you keep her glass full with lots of ice! Blah, blah . . . blah!”
Catching sight of herself in the mirror attached to her locker door, she saw tears threatening to wash away the smoky gray shadow she’d painstakingly applied to bring out the blue for tonight’s performance, along with a soft pink gloss on her full lips.
See? You shouldn’t have bothered
, she told her reflection.
, she told her reflection.
She’d never been big on primping. But tonight she’d gone all out—not just makeup, but perfume, too, and instead of the flats she usually wore to play down her height, she wore her ruby-red designer heels. They’d cost her a week’s paycheck and a diet of cheap canned soup for a month, but she’d always thought they were worth it.
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