Greer’s strength and support, she could face anything.
“Emily, my dear,” Frank said as he walked to where she stood trembling beside Greer.
He waited a moment as if to gauge her reaction, and then he enfolded her into his embrace.
“You’ve had me worried sick,” he said gruffly.
She sighed, rested her head on his shoulder a moment and then pulled away.
“I know. I’m sorry, Frank. I should have called. I just couldn’t… I just couldn’t deal.”
“And now?” He peered at her over his glasses, his stare probing. “How are you now?”
“Better,” she said quietly.
He smiled. “That’s great. You and I have a lot to talk about, Emily Donovan.”
“Frank,” Taggert growled. “You promised.”
Frank raised an eyebrow as he turned in Taggert’s direction. “I promised I wouldn’t badger her. I just want to talk. No harm in that.”
“I won’t sing,” she said flatly. “I haven’t sung in a year. I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to.”
The memory of the haunting melody she’d sung from her heart at Sean’s grave shifted painfully through her. That was private. For Sean. She wouldn’t do it in public again.
Frank’s expression softened. “Come out on the porch and talk to me, Emily? I can’t stay long. My return flight is in a few hours. I have to be back in Nashville.”
She nodded reluctantly. She owed him this much. It was too bad he’d come all this way for nothing, but it finally solved the issue of her facing him again. Better to have it over with so she could dispense with the demise of her career.
***
Taggert stepped onto the porch as Emily stood watching Frank tear down the long dirt driveway toward the main gate.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She turned, and he could see the haunted grief in her eyes again. Eyes that for the space of one night had been clear and beautiful. He sighed. He and Greer had a long road to travel with Emily.
Her long blond hair lifted in the back, carried on the light breeze blowing over the porch. It was like liquid sunshine. He’d always loved her hair. In the past it had always been indicative of her carefree personality. When she smiled, she glowed, the silvery strands adding to her warmth. It served as a reminder of all he and Greer wanted to get back. But could they ever truly go back?
“Yes,” she said simply. “He won’t return.”
Taggert held out his arms, and she went willingly, burying her face against his chest.
“I don’t mind if you never want to sing to crowds again. Or go into the recording studio. But baby, you love to sing. It’s part of who you are.”
She stiffened and curled her fists, gathering his shirt tight in her grip.
“It’s part of who I was ,” she said dully.
He brushed a kiss across the top of her head, wishing he knew what to say, what he could do to make it all better. It wasn’t that he had to hear her sing again, though he wanted it more than anything. Singing was just Emily. It had always been Emily. There was never a time she wasn’t humming a tune, plucking her old guitar or scribbling lyrics down on every scrap of paper she could find.
It hurt her not to sing. He knew it as much as he knew anything else. She’d never fully heal until she could put what happened to Sean behind her and embrace her gift again. Even if it was just for her and she never made a public appearance again.
His fist curled in frustration. He wanted nothing more than to make the bastard who’d done this to his family pay. Bleed. The irony was that he was out there. Free. While Taggert’s family suffered.
“Come inside. It’s time to eat, and you know Buck gets cranky when we keep him waiting.”
She glanced up, her lips twisting into a rueful smile. “Not going to lecture me on getting on with my life and not letting that bastard win?”
“Is that what Frank told you?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “He’s right. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t change anything, Tagg. Do you
“Emily, my dear,” Frank said as he walked to where she stood trembling beside Greer.
He waited a moment as if to gauge her reaction, and then he enfolded her into his embrace.
“You’ve had me worried sick,” he said gruffly.
She sighed, rested her head on his shoulder a moment and then pulled away.
“I know. I’m sorry, Frank. I should have called. I just couldn’t… I just couldn’t deal.”
“And now?” He peered at her over his glasses, his stare probing. “How are you now?”
“Better,” she said quietly.
He smiled. “That’s great. You and I have a lot to talk about, Emily Donovan.”
“Frank,” Taggert growled. “You promised.”
Frank raised an eyebrow as he turned in Taggert’s direction. “I promised I wouldn’t badger her. I just want to talk. No harm in that.”
“I won’t sing,” she said flatly. “I haven’t sung in a year. I’m not sure I could even if I wanted to.”
The memory of the haunting melody she’d sung from her heart at Sean’s grave shifted painfully through her. That was private. For Sean. She wouldn’t do it in public again.
Frank’s expression softened. “Come out on the porch and talk to me, Emily? I can’t stay long. My return flight is in a few hours. I have to be back in Nashville.”
She nodded reluctantly. She owed him this much. It was too bad he’d come all this way for nothing, but it finally solved the issue of her facing him again. Better to have it over with so she could dispense with the demise of her career.
***
Taggert stepped onto the porch as Emily stood watching Frank tear down the long dirt driveway toward the main gate.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She turned, and he could see the haunted grief in her eyes again. Eyes that for the space of one night had been clear and beautiful. He sighed. He and Greer had a long road to travel with Emily.
Her long blond hair lifted in the back, carried on the light breeze blowing over the porch. It was like liquid sunshine. He’d always loved her hair. In the past it had always been indicative of her carefree personality. When she smiled, she glowed, the silvery strands adding to her warmth. It served as a reminder of all he and Greer wanted to get back. But could they ever truly go back?
“Yes,” she said simply. “He won’t return.”
Taggert held out his arms, and she went willingly, burying her face against his chest.
“I don’t mind if you never want to sing to crowds again. Or go into the recording studio. But baby, you love to sing. It’s part of who you are.”
She stiffened and curled her fists, gathering his shirt tight in her grip.
“It’s part of who I was ,” she said dully.
He brushed a kiss across the top of her head, wishing he knew what to say, what he could do to make it all better. It wasn’t that he had to hear her sing again, though he wanted it more than anything. Singing was just Emily. It had always been Emily. There was never a time she wasn’t humming a tune, plucking her old guitar or scribbling lyrics down on every scrap of paper she could find.
It hurt her not to sing. He knew it as much as he knew anything else. She’d never fully heal until she could put what happened to Sean behind her and embrace her gift again. Even if it was just for her and she never made a public appearance again.
His fist curled in frustration. He wanted nothing more than to make the bastard who’d done this to his family pay. Bleed. The irony was that he was out there. Free. While Taggert’s family suffered.
“Come inside. It’s time to eat, and you know Buck gets cranky when we keep him waiting.”
She glanced up, her lips twisting into a rueful smile. “Not going to lecture me on getting on with my life and not letting that bastard win?”
“Is that what Frank told you?”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “He’s right. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t change anything, Tagg. Do you
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