Page 1 of Dear Blue Jean Cowboy
1
DIANA
The paint on the welcome sign for the small town of Centennial Springs is faded but still looks the same as it did the last time I was here ten years ago. I didn't want to stay away from my hometown, but the memories here were still too painful to face—until now.
I need something to distract me. I start pushing the buttons on the radio, searching for something to keep me from turning this car around and heading back to the airport. I stop when I hear the familiar opening notes of my latest single, currently number sixth on the charts, playing in the speakers. Excitement courses through me, just as it always does when I hear my songs being played.
I’ve spent the better part of the last decade touring the country, sleeping in my van, and playing in dive bars for little to no money. All in the hopes of finding my break and making it big in the country music industry.
Everything changed for me two years ago when a demo of one of my songs crossed paths with a music producer for a popular television show calledNashville Nights. They played it during the emotional ending to the season finale, and overnight the song took off. I had music industry representatives banging down my door, looking to sign me.
My star rose higher and higher with no sign of slowing down. It became easier to avoid coming home to visit when my family could see my success, from making music videos to world tours to award ceremonies. But when my sister got pregnant, and I missed every moment of the pregnancy and the birth, my mother wouldn't allow any of my excuses to keep me away from meeting my little nephew. So here I am, back in Centennial Springs, and everything somehow looks the same and slightly different at the same time.
The main street through town has more shops than I remember. New businesses mixed in with the old as I make my way through town. I slow down to let a young woman cross the street with two little girls, each one holding on to her hands. I pass a new bakery calledSugar Graveland chuckle at the name. The sign forMirabelle’s Caféis lit up, and my stomach rumbles for a home-cooked meal that I haven't had in years. The scent of smoked meat is in the air has me turning into one of the empty parking spots in front of the café.
I look down at my phone and see that I have a little time before my parents expect me at their house. I put on my sunglasses and give myself the once-over in the mirror. I'm hoping to get in and out without too many people recognizing me, but even if I weren't famous, my arrival would likely get back to my mother that I stopped here first. Maybe if Mirabelle isn't out of her peach cobbler, I can say I stopped to pick some up for dinner tonight.
The aroma of comfort food hits me the moment I walk in the door. The lunch rush for the day is gone, so there aren't many people.
"Diana Morrison, is that you?" Mirabelle calls out across the café.
I look around, and everyone still eating has stopped and is staring at me. There's no sense in trying to hide who I am, so I lift my sunglasses and rest them on top of my head.
“How have you been, Mirabelle?”
“I’m doing well, honey.” She walks over and scoops me into her arms for a hug. “We are all so proud of you with all your songs playing on the radio.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you stopped to see your mother yet?”
“I was hoping to surprise her with one of your peach cobblers.”
Mirabelle beams. “I think we can send you home with one.”
I take a few more minutes to sit at the counter and chat with Mirabelle. She catches me up on all the local gossip in town, including the new rumor circulating about Delilah Ford having to resign from the Centennial Springs Festival committee after some questions were raised about misuse of festival funds used to pay for her new pool.
“I bet there was a real power struggle within the committee over who was going to take over the leadership position.”
“There was, but Mayor Dickerson decided that the committee needed some new blood and put Dani Montgomery in charge.”
The moment I hear the Montgomery name, I freeze. Just the mention of his last name triggers a memory from my past, and it's like I'm back there again.
The smell of the wildflowers I'm holding in my bouquet. The smile on my face as he watches me walk down the aisle of the small country church towards him. The sound of my father yelling for the ceremony to stop. My mother's tight grip on my arm as she yanks me away from him.
Rhett Montgomery.
"Diana?" Mirabelle's voice cuts through the memory, and I'm suddenly back in the café. "Are you okay?"
I shake my head, trying to erase the memory I’ve spent years trying to suppress to keep me from being dragged down under by it.
“I’m fine, just a bit tired from all the traveling.”
“Of course,” Mirabelle walks behind the counter and bags up a peach cobbler for me to take home.
I try to pay her, but she waves off my money like it will burn her or something. When she isn't looking, I drop the cash into the tip jar.
We say our goodbyes, and I promise to stop back in again before I leave.
