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“Mom, Mom, come here. You gotta see this.” The young voices from the other room make Alice roll her eyes.
“I’d better check on them or we’ll never get any peace.” She rises carefully and makes her way to the family room. After a moment, she peeks her head through the doorway and motions for me to join her. “You need to see this, too.”
Now what’s going on that I’m not going to have the energy to care about? Alice’s two kids are planted close to their large television their eye glued to an entertainment news channel. They don’t even notice I’m there. Alice perches on the couch arm and points toward the screen.
I can’t believe what I see. A live broadcast shows a smiling Marcus Kane making a statement from the steps of a building I recognize as the rehabilitation center he’s used before. He lifts one hand and the screaming crowd quiets. My brother can’t do anything without his fans.
“I have spent the past few weeks here reevaluating my life, my career, my future. Being sober is new for me, a lifestyle I pray my fans will support and if moved, join me in. I know this will be a difficult road and there may be times I stumble. But with your support, your love, I’ll keep to this chosen path. My music and your experience at my concerts will be even better.
“I want to thank one person specifically for standing by me. I realized during my recovery I need to acknowledge the contributions my brother has made to my life and my career. And to your enjoyment of my music.”
I collapse onto the couch. I don’t believe what I’m hearing. I glance at Alice in confusion, but she’s on the phone. What the hell is Marcus up to?
On the screen, Marcus dips his head. It almost looks like humility. That’s a new move for him. Then he looks straight into the camera. “Thank you, Archer.” Turning back to the crowd he continues, “One day soon, I hope to bring him from behind the scenes and introduce you to my brother.”
The rest of his speech is a garbled hum. Then a pair of reporters take over. A photograph appears on the screen. “Is this Marcus Kane’s brother? We received this photograph moments ago. The picture is dated and time stamped as being taken early this morning, sent from somewhere in the Midwest.” The camera pans in on a photograph of me on the guest house porch. “The resemblance is remarkable. This must be the brother Mars called Archer.”
The other journalist chuckles and fans herself with her hand. “Marcus never said his brother was a twin. Imagine. Two of them. Whew.”
All I can do is thank god Bailey isn’t in the photo.
Alice pokes my shoulder. “If I were you, I’d head over to the winery. Bailey’s watching the broadcast.”
I leap to my feet and grab her shoulders to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything. Except maybe suggest she turn on the television. Go.”
Hope bursts through me as I jog toward the winery. The door opens as I near the building and I rush inside, hesitating only a moment before pulling her into my arms. “Bailey.”
“Archer, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to believe. I thought maybe I’d been played again. I know you told me the truth. Forgive me?”
“If you’ll forgive me. I love you, my beautiful Bailey.”
“I love you, too. I nearly told you that morning before the photographer. I have loved you since the first time I saw you.”
My laughter makes her try to take a step back and I hold her flush against my body. “Love at first sight, huh?”
“Yeah. Love at first sight. Archer Kane, I will love you until forever ends.”
With my lips brushing hers, I repeat the promise. “Until forever ends.”
epilogue
The Next Spring
Archer
Mars’ people brought in a team from Hardcore Security to surround the Turquoise Creek Ranch with electronic and drone surveillance for my wedding day. From what I’ve seen, this isn’t the team’s normal type of event although they seem to be enjoying the lighter duty. The local sheriff has the road past the main ranch entrances closed off, but there’s still a crowd of people milling around on the hills across the road.
The precautions aren’t for me and Bailey, but because Marcus insists on singing during the ceremony. And probably at the reception. Surprise, surprise, someone leaked his location.
Even with a six month old son, Alice is taking all the commotion in stride. Once it became known where I’d acted as my brother, she’s had to turn down reservation requests. She claims if she turned the guest house where I stayed into a Marcus Kane Museum, the entrance fees would soon pay for her next project—a play ground with an expansive treehouse across the road from the pool.
My brother has changed since he’s been sober. He’s not as reckless. Still an asshole when he doesn’t get what he wants though. He argued against me building a small studio connected to the winery and staying in Nebraska. He lost that battle. I refuse to disrupt Bailey’s life’s work. Here I can cheer her successes and commiserate her bad batches of wine. After a couple of missteps, which we ceremoniously poured out into the dusty landscape in a far corner of the ranch, her latest test batch shows promise. We’re using her spectacular plum mead for the toasts at our reception. She says I help keep her focused. Besides, I can write songs anywhere.
My beautiful woman keeps me sane. Together we’re learning how to prevent a total compulsion from taking me. When I am caught up in too much music, she calms me. Centers me. Encourages me. Loves me.
Because of her, I’ve written enough love songs to fill a double album for Mars. The slow, softer ballads have produced at least five top ten hits so far. My brother is riding the wave.
