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“Did you and your brothers play here?” she asks me, and I realize she’s still holding my hand.
“Not really,” I answer her. “They were too busy doin’ whatever, so I pretty much always came down here by myself. I’ve written a lot of music here. I mean, they’ve certainly been here before, but I don’t think they’ve ever found it quite as fascinating as I did. It’s been a special place to me since the moment I saw it.”
“I can see why,” she says, gazing up at the porch awning. “I’d love to know the stories behind this place. I can’t help but wonder who lived here and what they were like,” she continues as I open the door. “It’s wild to imagine that this was someone’s home. It’s like stepping back in time.”
As the door swings open, she steps through, her hands going to her mouth as she takes in all the original furnishings. Admittedly, some of it is falling apart, but mostly it’s all intact, which makes this place that much more nostalgic. It’s a small cabin, with only two bedrooms, but one of them holds a small crib from the 1800s.
“Whoever built this place, built it to last,” Callie says softly, running her finger along the small dining room table. “What an amazing place. It feels like I’m in some sort of museum.”
“Yeah, my dad actually considered turning it into one, but I asked him not to—I just wanted to preserve everything the way it was—right here,” I say, hoping that she’ll understand, because no one else ever really has.
“I get it.” She nods, walking over to the small stove, before turning to me. “What were you like as a kid, Wade?”
“Me? Uh ... I don’t know. I guess I was just a kid. I did kid stuff—you know, run and play. Mom taught me to play the piano.”
“But what kind of life did you dream of having when you grew up?” Her eyes are intently on me, and I realize I’ve never been asked these kinds of questions. I’m not sure anyone has ever even cared.
“I suppose I always knew I wanted to be a musician,” I answer her, but she doesn’t say anything—still waiting for me to say more. “I remember I wanted to be a songwriter. I didn’t care so much for the actual fame part. I mean, sure, there’s a rush that comes with playing in front of crowds. But ... I think it’s the songwriting that really inspires me. When I was young, I kind of always imagined growing up, buying a ranch with this kind of history,”—I gesture around me—“and writing songs, maybe teaching my kids to play guitar.”
She nods, a smile stretching across her face. “Does Cooper play any instruments?”
“Uh, no, not really.” I clam up, feeling like she might think I’m not a good dad. “I bought him a guitar, but he hasn’t really picked it up. Harper says he’s showing some interest now, but uh, we just...” I’m stumbling over my words, not even knowing how to explain what I want to. “You know with the custody challenges and everything, I just haven’t been as present as I want to be…”
“I really appreciate how honest you’re being right now,” she says, giving me the sweetest smile I’ve ever freaking seen. “And when does Coop get home from vacation? Will you get to see him before we leave?”
“Yeah, they are supposed to be back in a few days, actually. I’m hoping Harper will let me visit. Things have just been even more difficult now that lawyers have been involved and everything.”
“I understand it must be hard, but from what I can see, you’ve really turned your life around. I mean … you’re not at all what the news articles painted you out to be,” she says, biting her lip, which is driving me absolutely crazy.
“Well thank you, Callie. That means a lot to me.”
“In fact, you’d make an amazing book character.”
“And you’d make one heck of a muse for my next album,” I shoot back at her, seeing her cheeks blush again. “And I mean that, Callie, so don’t go making some smart comment to deflect my compliment.”
“You have me figured out already,” she says, her smile fading slightly. “I don’t have a spectacular past, either, though, I must admit I’ve never fought a tiger through glass. And I just want to know,” she continues, leaning closer to me and narrowing her eyes, “is there a video of this somewhere?”
I smile up at her and push myself up from the chair, towering above her in the simply lit cabin. “I do have a video, actually.”
“You do?” She looks up at me, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Can I see it?”
“I don’t know,” I tease. “What’s in it for me?”
Callie moves closer until we’re almost touching. “I can think of a few things,” she says, her voice low and sultry. My heart starts beating faster as I look down at her, taking in every inch of her gorgeous face.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, feeling my body start to respond to her proximity. “And what might those things be?”
“Well, for starters,” she says, standing only a few inches away from me. I can smell the sweet scent of her perfume and my mind is racing as I try to keep my cool. This woman is throwing me for a loop, and I just can’t deny the pull she has on me. “I’ll sing you a song ... for real this time.”
That’s not quite what I was expecting she might say, but I’ve been dying to hear this woman sing.
My heart swells with anticipation as Callie looks up at me with a mischievous glint in her eyes. I can’t believe how much this woman affects me, and I’m starting to think that showing her the video might not be such a bad idea after all.
“Okay,” I say, my voice husky, “sing me a song, and then we’ll see about the video.”
Callie grins at me, and without another word, she closes her eyes and starts to sing “Amazing Grace.” Her voice is beautiful, and as she sings, the cabin seems to fill with warmth and light—and oh how sweet it sounds. I find myself getting lost in her words, her tone, her perfect pitch. Before I know it, I’m swaying to the rhythm of her melody with my own eyes closed.
When she finishes, I’m left breathless, my heart hammering in my chest.
