Page 53 of Sing You Home (Nashville Star 1)

An hour later, after a hellish drive through downtown Nashville, Sal hanging on for dear life, Lacey intent on evading what she thought was paparazzi, Sal’s finally on solid ground.

She takes a seat on the outdoor patio of The Stillery restaurant. Puffy white clouds stretch the noon-blue sky above. Sal smiles into the sunshine, and her soul lightens.

Twisting in her seat, she takes in the restaurant. The patio is covered in ivy, brick-walled and beautiful. Quaint, like some faraway place in Europe. She wonders if she’s been here before.

“I think we shook ’em,” Lacey says, dropping into a chair across from Sal. Her cheeks are flushed pink. Small freckles dot the tip of her nose.

Sal stifles a laugh. “Oh, you think? Nice driving, Evel Knievel.”

Lacey tosses her keys on the table. Arranges a whistle and pepper spray next to her silverware as she surveys their surroundings with eagle-eyed intensity. Sal raises a brow. “Do we really need all that?”

“Luke’s kind of famous.” Lacey sighs, fiddling with the gold locket that hangs from a long chain around her neck. “He told you that at least?”

“He did, it’s just ...” Sal trails off as a waiter drops menus on the table.

She keeps forgetting that the man who cooked her breakfast this morning is as big of a country superstar as everyone says. He’s so down-to-earth. Confident, not cocky. Their life so normal.

Sal turns her attention to Lacey. She’s staring over her menu, looking at Sal like she’s a mirage. It’s unnerving.

“You want wine?” Lacey blurts, startling like a deer when she realizes Sal’s staring back. “You like wine? Can you drink wine? I want wine. We should get wine.”

With a wave of her hand, she promptly flags over a waiter and rattles off a well-practiced order for drinks and appetizers.

Sal smiles. Though Lacey’s more tightly wound than a ball of string, Sal likes her. She’s sweet, fashionable and talkative. Another person who can fill in the gaps of her life.

While she’s glad for the info drop, she also craves the return of her own mind. Spoon-fed memories are exhausting. Not to mention lonely. But she’ll do anything she can to jumpstart her memory. Even if it means playing twenty questions with everyone she comes into contact with.

The wine arrives along with two glasses. “Is there anything you want to know?” Lacey asks, reaching for the stem of her drink.

Sal feels like the invisible woman, lost in time, an observer pressed against the window of her life. She knows she’s married, she likes to run, and she had a job as a paramedic. Now she has a sister who’s an event planner in LA.

She thinks of what’s next.

“What about our parents? Will I see them soon?” Though she’s not sure she’s ready for a whole swell of visitors, Sal is curious about her immediate family.

Lacey stops swirling her wine. A small frown furrows her face. “Mom, she—she died, Sal.”

Sal sits back and breathes out. “Oh.”

Not one to be deterred, Lacey pulls back her shoulders and pulls out her cell phone. “Here. I came prepared.”

A folder on Lacey’s phone is named SAL’S MEMORY. Leaning over the table, Lacey scrolls through photo after photo. “This,” she says, stopping on a photo of a beautiful dark-haired woman carrying a surfboard out to sea, “this is Mom. Michelle.”

Sal searches her mind to place the woman’s face but finds nothing.

“How did she die?” she asks.

“Breast cancer.” Lacey doesn’t look up from the photo. “You were twelve and I was six. I hardly knew her; you practically raised me yourself.” With a shrug, Lacey shakes off her sadness. “Dad—he’s on a base in Iraq.” She leans across the table, squeezes Sal’s wrist. “When he gets service, he’ll call. He’s so thrilled you’re back, though, Sal. Really. It’s just ... it’s hard for him to get away.”

In Sal’s mind: an image of a man waving goodbye from a window, a girl’s small hand in hers.

But the memory’s gone before it can grow roots.

She asks, “Did Dad always travel?”

“Pretty much. He was always gone. Always off and gone.”

Lacey’s voice wavers slightly. Like she’s trying to keep her voice even for Sal’s sake. Like she’s trying to make excuses.

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