Restless Heart (20 page)

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Authors: Wynonna Judd

BOOK: Restless Heart
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Mia reappeared. “Your turn, Mrs. Hart. Did you decide on a cut?”
“Sure did.” She pointed to the picture on the page. “And don’t be stingy with that blond, now, sugar. Give me some attitude.”
TEN
C
oming in from a long Friday-afternoon run, John Hart wiped the perspiration from his brow with the edge of his T-shirt. It was a warm, sunny day for November. He pulled open the refrigerator door and the cool air seeped into his sweat-soaked shirt as he snagged a bottle of water. He chugged half of it before the door even had a chance to close.
John realized he’d pushed himself too hard, but he’d been so full of frustration after this morning’s confrontation with Sara that he just kept going, mile after mile.
Now his legs felt like wet noodles, his knees ached, and his lungs burned. So what? He welcomed the exhaustion. Maybe tonight he’d be able to fall asleep instead of tossing and turning yet again. Since Sara had been sleeping in the guest room he hadn’t been able to get a good night’s rest.
He missed Sara in his bed.
He missed her, period. Missed her bright smile, her easy laughter, and her gentle touch that had been fading fast over the past few years.
“Sara?”
No reply. Her car was in the driveway, but she must have gone out with Grace.
The house felt empty, so silent that when the ice maker suddenly dumped cubes into the container, John jumped as if he’d been startled by a rumble of thunder.
Annoyed by his unaccustomed skittishness, he polished off the water and tossed the bottle into the trash with more force than needed. Pushing away from the counter, he decided he needed a long hot shower to ease his aching muscles—and the tension in his brain.
But just as he reached the bathroom, he heard the front door open and Sara and Grace chattering happily.
For a moment, he considered getting right into the shower anyway. But then he heard Grace calling him.
“Daddy? Come out here and see!”
“See what?”
Grace didn’t answer. Frowning, he left the bathroom.
The living room was empty, but several shopping bags were heaped on the sofa.
Hearing the door open again, John turned to see Grace and a friend, both wearing big sunglasses, returning with another round of bags.
“Grace, what is all that?” he asked, as her friend deposited her load and hurriedly went back out, presumably for more. “Are you moving back in?”
“No, just coming from the mall, and believe it or not, most of this stuff belongs to Mom!”
John raised an eyebrow. “Mom? Where is she?”
“She’ll be right back. This should be the last trip.”
“Back? Where . . . ?” Confused, John stared at his daughter—and then the light dawned. “Wait . . . that woman who breezed in and out of here just now was your
mother
?”
Grace grinned. “Who did you think she was?”
“I don’t know . . . a friend of yours or something.” Dazed, John shook his head and turned just in time to see his wife standing in the doorway.
At least, it sounded like his wife. “That was it,” she told Grace, and dumped the bags she was holding on the floor before collapsing in a chair. “I feel like I just ran a marathon!”
John—who until a few minutes ago had felt like he’d just run a marathon, and pretty much
had
—now felt as though he’d been zapped to an alternate universe.
“Where . . . who . . . what did you
do
?” he asked the woman who sounded like Sara.
She took off the sunglasses and looked up at him for the first time, putting her hands up and touching the feathered ends of honey-blond hair that softly framed her face. He saw tears in her eyes—which suddenly looked enormous, rimmed in rich brown liner that brought out the hazel.
“You . . . you look so . . .” He just shook his head, at a loss for words.
“You don’t like it?” Sara asked in a tiny voice.
“Mom, come on, how could he not?” Grace spoke up when John didn’t. “Your helmet hair is gone forever. You look fresh and pretty and years younger.”
Still, John couldn’t speak.
“She looks amazing, doesn’t she, Daddy? Between the haircut and the makeup and the new clothes . . . I can’t remember when I last saw her in a pair of jeans that didn’t have elastic at the waist. And she bought five styles!” Grace held her palm up and wiggled her thumb and fingers.
“I seriously thought she was a friend of yours,” he said at last, to Grace.
For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to address Sara directly.
“It’s amazing what a new hairstyle can do, and Mia showed Mom how to apply makeup in shades that suit the new hair color.”
John just nodded, taking it in.
She looked like the old Sara—the one he’d known decades ago; the girl whose hair and clothes were feminine and flowing, much like her personality. That Sara wore mascara and lipstick, and bangles on her wrists—and had fresh flowers in her hair on their wedding day.
She’d been even more beautiful and radiant during her pregnancy with Destiny.
But then—at his insistence—her appearance began to change. Gone were the long skirts and bright colors, and she rarely wore makeup. He knew why.
He didn’t want her to stand out. He wanted her to blend in. She had dutifully transformed herself into the wife of an officer—pretty, but in a much more understated way that didn’t draw attention.
“I don’t know about you, Mom, but I’m going to take a nap,” Grace announced. “You wore me out, but I truly had fun today, and you look fantastic.”
Sara smiled. “Thanks, Gracie.”
“Don’t let me sleep for more than an hour.”
Grace grabbed a couple of bags—leaving the vast majority behind—and left the room.
John cleared his throat and said at last, “You do.”
Sara looked at him in surprise. “What?”
“You do look fantastic.”
“Really?”
He nodded fervently. “The blond becomes you, Sara, and I love the way it frames your face.”
“Thank you,” she said softly, and added, “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I have my moments,” he said with a grin—then eyed the shiny pink Victoria’s Secret bag at her feet with interest. “Is that yours?”
“Sure is.”
“What’s in it?”
“Don’t ask,” she teased. “Let’s just say there might be a Playtex 18-Hour Bra burning tonight.”
“I’m not sure what that is, but I bet it doesn’t have any lace—and I’m betting whatever’s in that bag just might.”
Sara laughed.
“You’re blushing.”
“Am I?”
He nodded and sat on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. She stood, crossed the room, and sat down—close enough for John to drape his arm around her, just like old times.
“That feels good,” she said. “I’m plumb wore out. The girls ran me ragged.”
That reminded him. “Where’s Destiny?”
“Getting dressed, and then Seth is going to drive her over to get warmed up for tonight.”
Tonight. The concert.
John immediately deflated.
“I hope you’ve changed your mind about coming.”
“I haven’t.”
She promptly slid out from beneath his arm and stood.
“Don’t let this come between us.”
“Destiny’s career isn’t the only thing that’s come between us, John.” She looked at him with accusing eyes that made guilt settle like a lead ball in his gut. “But since we’re on the subject—she’s an adult and this is the path she’s chosen. You need to let her be who she wants to be and not who
you
want her to be.”
“The odds are stacked against her, even now. Be realistic.”
She put her hands on her hips and looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to be realistic! I want to dream with her. Support her. Shower her with praise and encouragement. Like I should have been doing all along!” She hesitated, then said with quiet conviction, “Like
you
should have been doing all along.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Oh, heaven forbid!” She raised her chin with defiance. “Well, guess what? The days are over when
you
can tell
me
what to do. For once this isn’t all about you.”
He, too, was on his feet, facing her, cold, hard fear pounding at his temples. “What are you saying, Sara?”
She blinked at him, and he wondered for a moment if she even knew. Then she said quietly, “I’m tired of being everything you want me to be and not being myself. It’s your world and I’m just living in it.”
“What the hell does that mean?” he growled, even though down deep he knew.
“Figure it out.” She left the room, and a moment later slammed the door to the guest room.
John started to follow her down the hallway leading to the four bedrooms and two baths. Lining the walls were framed pictures beginning with their wedding and progressing over the years.
Something made him stop and look at them. At Sara. At photos of their engagement, and their wedding, and their young family . . .
Sara had been so pretty, so sweet. He could never quite get over why a girl like her had fallen for a guy like him in the first place. Every time he had left her for months on end, he worried that she would get tired of him being gone; that someone better would come along and sweep her off her feet. Someone more deserving than him.
Looking at the old photos, remembering what it had been like, John shook his head. There was a stark difference between the early pictures and the later ones—particularly at the girls’ graduations. Sara was still smiling, but John could see that some of the life had been sucked out of her.
Shaken, he turned away.
“Still . . . I don’t deserve this treatment,” he grumbled under his breath, and stomped down the hallway to the master bathroom. He wanted to slam the door, but controlled his anger.
He ran the water, stripped off his clothes, stepped into the stall, and stayed there for a long time.
Though the hot water eased his aches and pains, he tasted salt on his tongue.
Crying had always gotten a backhand from his father, and he had learned early in life to control his emotions.
His throat closed up now, and he refused to let tears flow.
 
 
 
“
D
estiny, you still in there?” Seth knocked on the closed bedroom door.
“Sure am.”
“Can I come in?”
“Not yet. I’m getting dressed.”
“Hey, don’t be shy. It’s just me. I’ve seen it all.”
“I’m not being shy,” Destiny answered. “I’m trying to focus, and I know what’ll happen if I let you in here. This time, I can’t let you make me late.”
Seth had to grin, remembering this morning. He drifted back over to the couch and looked at Mike, who was lying on the rug.
“She’s gonna be late for her own concert, and this time, it won’t even be my fault.”
Mike wagged his tail. Shaking his head, Seth hummed “Waitin’ on a Woman
.
”
The bedroom door creaked open. “Seth, have you seen my red heels?”
“I put ’em in the closet so I wouldn’t keep tripping over ’em. I thought you were going to wear boots.”
“No, I was just yessing Grace. I’m wearing my favorite shoes!”
The door closed again.
“It’s her night,” Seth told Mike. “If she wants to wear the red shoes, then she should wear the red shoes, right?”
Mike raised one eyelid, looked at him, and lowered it again.
“I know, I could use a nap myself.”
He went back to humming until at last the bedroom door opened and footsteps tapped down the hall.
“What do you think?” Destiny asked.
Seth’s heart caught in his throat.
She looked absolutely stunning.
Her hair, misted with sparkles, was piled high on her head with soft curls escaping to frame her face and kiss her neck. She wore snug-fitting jeans, a simple yet sophisticated midnight blue V-neck shirt trimmed in silver piping, a heart pendant at her throat, and chunky cuffs on both wrists.
“Earth to Seth,” she said.
“Oh . . . uh . . .” He cleared his throat and then had to ask, “Um, what was the question again?”
“How do I look?”
“Incredible. The wait was worth it.”
“You don’t think the shoes are wrong?”
He flicked his gaze to her feet. “I’m no fashion expert, but in my opinion they give the jeans a real dressed-up touch.”
“Nicely said, for a guy!” She glanced down at her watch. “I need to grab my guitar and hightail it down to the stage. Sure you don’t mind driving me?”
“What, are you kidding? It’s an honor.”
He grabbed his keys as Destiny left the room, returning a moment later with her guitar case in tow.
“Wow, Seth . . .” Her smile trembled a little. “This is going to be quite a night, isn’t it?”

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