*** It's 2 o'clock in the morning, so my grammar may be a little off.
But anyways, sorry it's been so long! I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, though. I may or may not have cried while writing it.
Thanks for all of the reads and reviews! Please let me know what you think! :) ***
-Chapter 17-
Just breathe. In and out. Stay calm. I whispered to myself as I walked up the steps behind the stage. I heard the crowd roaring as an overhead voice was introducing me.
"Sorry about the wait, folks. But now," Breathe, Reba. "Ladies and gentlemen," These people payed to see you strong, not weak. "The lady you've all been waiting for," Get him off of your mind. "Country music's finest," Get each of them off of your mind. "Miss Reba Mcentire!" Don't think. Go out there. Rock it.
Lyrics about raidos, Chevy trucks, and romeos seemed blurry to me as I did my opening performance. The screaming crowd that usually had me speechless hardly fazed me. My mind was on other things.
When I had gotten home, I layed on the couch for a while, processing every single word that had been said minutes before at Brock's house. His voice was running through my head, driving me insane. I was burrying my face in the throw pillow when I heard the house phone ring. I sat up quickly.
Slowly, I walked into the kitchen, and pulled the phone to my ear. "H-hello?" I asked in a shaky voice.
"Hey Reba! Where the heck are you?" I was relieved to hear the peppy voice of my hair stylist at the other end of the line.
"Oh hey, Brett. Uh, I'm at home. Why?" It was still difficult to speak, but I was trying my hardest.
"At home? Reba, do you realize we have a show to put on at 5? You better get your butt up here!" I gasped. I had totally forgotten about my concert downtown.
"Oh, yes, I totally forgot!" I looked at the clock, suprised to read 4:15. I really had spent a couple hours telling my story at Brock's. "Um, I'll be right there! Get my outfit ready. My hair and makeup is an absolute mess," I said, looking at my refelction in the stove door, "So go ahead and heat up the straightener and lay out my makeup. I want my hair straight, and which ever way you can get my makeup done the quickest." I said as I stumbled through the living room with the phone held between my shoulder and my ear. I rushed to find my cell phone, but after a quick look-around, I decided I had left it at Brock's, and told myself I'd get it later.
"Okay, Reba. I'll tell everyone to go ahead and get ready for sound check. It should take you 15 minutes to get here from your house. You'll be on a little bit late, but at least you'll be on!" He said in a cheerful voice. I chuckled. "I'm not going to lie, I'm a little shocked, Red. You never forget about a concert. What's gotten into you?"
"Oh, nothing. I was just a little busy today, that's all. I'm on my way now, though!" I said quickly. I hung up and threw the phone on the couch. I ran out of the door and jumped in the car.
I was thankful my show tonight was just downtown, or else there's no way I could have made it. It really was a coincedence, though. Ususally, my shows are out of state, and I have to fly to them. Having one just 15 minutes away was nothing short of a blessing.
I sped most of the way, and took a few backroads, pulling up to my private enterance in 10 minutes, while sighing at how lucky I was to have made it. Missing a show was something I've never done, and something I never plan on doing.
My escorts and body guard were waiting on me. When I stepped out of my car, they looked at me funny for a minute, and then had faces of steel as they brought me in through a small door in the back. Once in, I assured the men that I knew my way. I had played here many times before.
I practically ran to the dressing room. There I found Brett, who had done exaclty what I asked him to. As soon as he saw me, he pulled out a high chair and patted it impatiently. I jumped up onto it as he combed through my hair. He worked silently, until he finally looked up into the mirror and saw my face.
"Oh my goodness, girl! What got ahold of you?" I looked at my reflection. There were bags under my eyes, along with puffyness from crying. My cheeks were red, and mascara was smeared around the corners of my eyes. I offered a weak smile.
"I know, I'm a mess. It's just been a hard day." Brett could tell I didn't want to talk about it, so he just nodded and continued with my hair.
Suprisingly, after finishing my hair, doing my makeup, and throwing on my outfit, I was only a few minutes late to the stage. But my anxiety was getting the best of me, and it was becoming harder and harder to focus. As Turn on Your Radio came to an end, and the waves of people began screaming and clapping, I could feel my knees shaking. Everything that Brock had said, along with the fact that John was probably trying to find me right now, was weighing down on my mind. I tried to focus on other things, but it wasn't working. Was Brock being honest? Does he really want to try again? And with John... I knew he'd find me. One way or another, he'd find me. And the question of what he'd do to me once he did made me sick to my stomach. The fact that the building was surrounded by big lit up signs reading 'Reba McEntire in concert' didn't calm my nerves any. He could find me here if he looked hard enough, that I was sure of. And even if he didn't, there's no doubt in my mind he'd be waiting on me when I got home. Unless I went to Brock's. But I couldn't do that again. Could I?
The slow guitar intro to And Still came on, and I was brought out of my thoughts. I pulled up a stool from up-stage and sat down, staring at the faces around me while listening to the soft music. As soon as it was time, I began the familiar beginning to the song, while admiring how quiet the crowd had gotten. I looked around and saw people singing with me, but it seemed that only their mouths were moving, and no sound was coming out.
When the chorus came up, I unexpectedly found my throat growing dry as I sang the words. "And still, my world stood still. I couldn't move, and all I could feel was this aching in my heart, saying I loved him...still." I tried to not think about what I was singing, but it seemed impossible. The lyrics hit me hard, in a way they never had before. When the second chorus came around, I was misty-eyed and my voice was shaking. "I couldn't move, and all I could feel was this aching in my heart..." I looked down and rested the microphone on my lap, unable to finish. The crowd understood, and clapped as the band slowly stopped. I smiled, so relieved and so in love with the people around me. People I didn't even know, and yet they understood. I guess that's just the power of music.
I smiled and wiped my eyes as the crowd continued to cheer me on. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my guitarist off stage, talking to a lady with a headset. He looked over at me, and then quickly jogged to where I was on stage.
"Hey," He said in a hushed voice. I could tell he felt uncomfortable talking to me while surrounded by thousands of screaming people. "They need you offstage. We're going to play some and keep the audience entertained. You need to hurry, though. I think it's important." He said, obviously stressed about it just as much as I was. I had never been called off stage during a performance. I looked at him confused and startled. The crowd was beginning to quiet down, and I knew they were wondering what was going on.
"Can't it wait?" I said, faking a smile and carefree face so they wouldn't worry. He didn't bother to do the same. His face was clearly concerned.
"No, I don't think so."
"Um, okay." I pulled the microphone to my mouth and smiled big at the audience. "Well y'all, I need to run back stage for just a second. But don't worry, I'm not going to leave you hanging! My amazing band is going to play some for you. Let's give them a round of applause!" The crowd exploded again as I smiled and hustled off stage. The lady was waiting, and as soon as I reached her she grabbed me by the arm and pulled my into a sound-proof room to block out the noice. She handed me a phone, which I hadn't noticed she had been holding until now.
"It's your daughter. I wouldn't have interupted you, but I think you need to talk to her." She said, and then walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. I brought the phone to my ear, panic rising in my chest.
"Hello?"
"Mom?" I could hardly make out Cheyenne's voice. "Oh mom, it's ...it's bad!" She was sobbing. I tightened my grip on the phone.
"Cheyenne, honey, what's wrong?" I asked frantically.
"Mom- Dad- His truck-" She wasn't making any sense. My anxiety was growing quickly, and my breathing increased as I tried to figure out what she was saying.
"I can't understand you, baby. Take a deep breath!" I heard her breathe in deeply. "Now, tell me what's going on!"
She took a few quick breaths before speaking. "Dad, he was, he was in an accident mom." She began crying again.
"An accident? What do you mean an accident? Is he okay?" She didn't respond, but continued sobbing into the phone. "Hand the phone to Van. I need to know what's going on." I heard commotion on the other end, and after a few seconds I heard Van's voice.
"Hello?" Although he wasn't crying, I could tell by his voice that something was wrong.
"Van, tell me what's going on." I said quickly.
"Mr.H. He was in an accident. The hospital just called Cheyenne. His truck was found around Charle's Rest Stop. Apparently he ran off of the road and hit a tree head-on." I covered my mouth with a shaky hand, not knowing how to handle what I had just heard. I couldn't speak. Suddenly Van spoke quietly, and I knew he didn't want Cheyenne to hear. "His blood alcohol levels were extremely high."
"What hospital?" Was all I could get out. My throat was dry and I felt the small room closing in on me.
"St. Thomas. We're on our way now. Kyra is watching Jake and Elizabeth. Cheyenne is a mess."
"Is he okay?" I wanted to scream it. I wanted to drop to my knees and pray he was. But instead, I stood there on shaky legs, not ready for the answer. After several long, painful seconds, Van spoke.
"We don't know. They're not saying." His voice cracked.
I tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in my throat. "I-I'm on my way." Was all I managed before hanging up, not waiting for his responce. I backed up until I felt my back hit the wall, and then slowly sunk down against it, my hand over my mouth to keep from crying. I thought back to sitting at his kitchen table earlier that day. I thought of his face as he looked through his golf magazene, so unaware of what was to come. My heart broke into a million pieces. The pain was almost unbarable.
Finally when I could get myself together, I stood slowly and walked out of the room. The lady with the head set was sitting in a chair by the door. She looked at me and stood, her face almost showing that she knew what was going on.
"I have to go." I said sternly.
"Y-yes ma'am." She said in a quiet voice.
Without even acknoledging the screaming audience in the background, I rushed towards the exit at the back of the building. As I was leaving, my manager saw me and ran towards me, looking as if I were a ghost.
"What the hell are you doing?" He yelled.
"I have to go." I repeated in the same stern voice I had used earlier.
"No, last time I checked you can't just leave, Reba. Now get out there and keep singing! Do you know how much money we're making off of this gig? There's nothing that could be going on that's worth losing it."
"You have no idea." I said, fighting back tears. "I'm leaving." I started walking again, but he stopped me.
"Reba you can't do this! You can't just leave!" He was getting angry. I explained to him what had happened the best I could, and failed at holding back my tears. As soon as he saw the first one fall, he knew this was serious. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Fine, fine. I guess we'll have to figure out some way to do a refund. I'll send someone out there to tell them-"
"Okay, thank you." I rushed out the door and got into my car without looking back. I pulled out of my private parking area and onto the highway, typing in the adress of St. Thomas Hospital.
The guilt of leaving my fans was huge, but it seemed small compared to everything else I was feeling. I wanted to see Brock. No, I needed to. I pressed down hard on the pedal, and clinched the steering wheel tighter.
20 minutes later I pulled into the hospital parking lot. I parked sideways and hopped out of the car. I tripped once on the heel of my boots while running through the parking lot, but quickly regained my balance and continued running.
The doors slid open, and I could smell the typical smell of a hospital as the white floors and walls made me squint. I rushed in and up to the front desk. I head a few gasps when people saw me, but ignored it. I placed my hands hard on the desk, causing the woman doing paper work to look up quickly. When she saw me, her eyes grew wide.
"You're Re-"
"I know who I am!" I snapped. "I need to see Brock Hart. Now, please." She looked at me, stunned for a few minutes, and then looked on her computer.
"Fourth floor, room 207." She said without looking back up at me. I knew she was offended becuase I had snapped at her, and I promised myself that I'd come down and apologize to her later. But now wasn't the time.
I rushed to the elevator, pressed the botton, and waiting impatiently for the 'ding'. When I finally heard it, I squeezed myself in before the elevator could even fully open. I pressed the button with the 4 on it, and then leaned against the wall, trying to see straight.
The three other people in the elevator stared at me the whole ride up. I was so out of it that I didn't realize until the door had opened. I looked breifely at them before walking out, and found three white faces with wide eyes staring at me. Whether it was my all black, rhinestoned outfit, or the fact that I'm sometimes on the raido, I'm not sure. But none of them said a word. They all just stared. I awkwardly turned away and hopped out of the elevator.
As the door was closing, I offered the best smile I could and waved at them. All three of them were immediatley brought out of their trance and began waving back franticly, big smiles plastered across thier faces.
As soon as the door closed, I turned on my heel and began running, looking at the numbers on the side of the doors as I went. 204, 205, 206... When I reached 207, I stopped and stared. The door was the only one on the floor that was closed all the way. There were a few chairs outside of it, and on one of them sat Cheyenne's purse. I knew her and Van were either in the room with Brock or off somewhere in the hospital. Either way, she shouldn't have left her purse out in the open. I picked it up, and reminded myslef to get on to her for that later.
I stood outside the room for what seemed like forever. Finally, I built up the courage to go in. I pushed the door open slowly, and then I saw him.
He was propped up against a mound of pillows on the bed. His face was leaned back and his eyes shut. It caught me by suprise how pale he looked. I slowly walked in, shutting the door behind me.
The closer I got, the more details I noticed- The cuts on his hands, the bruise on the side of his face and the one peeking behind his gown on his chest, and the dark circles under his eyes. His chest rose and fell heavily, and he weezed as he breathed. I pulled up a chair next to his bed, and sat down. I stared at him harder than I had ever stared at anyone before. I looked at every detail of his worn face. Bringing my hand up slowly, I traced the bruise on his cheek, remembering how I had slapped him earlier. It tore at my heart knowing what I had done.
Seeing him like this killed me. I couldn't hold it back any longer. I felt the tears pooling in my eyes as I layed my head in my hands. I tried to quiet my sobs, but it didn't work. Just the thought of him hurt was enough to break me. No matter what has happened, part of him is still my Brock. I wondered why he had done what he had done. I wondered why I felt like I was a big part of it. I wondered why I had been guarding myself around him so much lately. All of these thought and emotions, mixed with the fact that he may not be okay, was pushing me over the edge. My heart ached as I sobbed into my shaking hands. I began praying somewhere in the back part of my mind. I was praying for some kind of miracle. I wanted with all of my heart to know that he was okay. As much as I hated to admit it, I could't lose him. I needed him. With every part of me, I needed him.
And then, suddenly, I heard a small, tired voice.
"Hey, don't cry." I looked up, and Brock was staring down at me. His eyes looked deep into mine, and I felt as if he could see everything I was feeling. He slowly pulled up his hand. I know it was painful for him by the way he was struggling.
"Brock-" I tried to stop him but he shook his head.
When he finally lifted his arm enough, he brought it to my face. I stayed frozen as he used every ounce of strength he had to wipe away my tears. His eyes softened and watered as he stared at me. For the first time in a long time, I didn't look away. I allowed him to look at me, and didn't move his hand as he cupped the side of my face and traced his thumb across my cheek bone. He moved his mouth some, trying to gather the strength to speak. And then, in the quietest, sadest voice I had ever heard, he spoke.
"I love you, Reba."
And still... My world stood still.