Tally’s eyes widen to saucers. A beat of silence stretches until I realize she ain’t looking at me. She’s staring at the bright red paint peeking out from under the tarp.
Fuck. Me.
She points. “Oh my God, is that Yolanda?”
My stomach tightens as I brace myself for her reaction. “Yep, it’s the old girl herself.” I pat the polished front fender and pull off the tarp.
One corner of her mouth ticks up. “I can’t believe you kept her!”
A flash of heat crosses my face. “I mean, she’s a classic. An investment. Dad bought her back in 1993 and they don’t make ‘em like this anymore. Great resale value for a collector!”
Tally snorts. I’m pretty sure she sees right through my pathetic excuse, but she gracefully plays along.
She walks up to the passenger side and opens the door, climbing in. I’m glad she’s keeping far away from the driver’s seat cause I doubt she’d appreciate finding my half of our wedding polaroid stuck to the sun visor.
I stand in the open door, watching her.
“We should take Yolanda on one last adventure,” she says, stroking the bench seat like a kitten.
“You want to go on a road trip in my old truck?”
“Why not? She looks like she’s in great shape. Not even a speck of dust anywhere.”
I puff my chest out. “I’ve taken perfect care of her since Dad passed her down to me on my eighteenth birthday.”
A faraway look comes over her. “I admit I’m a little jealous.”
“You’re into cars now?”
She shakes her head sadly. “I just wish Momma left me more to remember her by than a trailer full of empty bottles. I didn’t even go to her funeral cause I didn’t know it was happenin’!” She lets out a thin, hurt laugh.
My ribs pinch. “I’m sorry, Trouble. I had no idea Kim passed on.”
“I didn’t know she was sick in the first place. Cancer, I was told. Hell, I only found out she died when the guy running the trailer park called me to collect outstanding payments,” she whispers, voice thick with grief.
I swallow the lump of emotions sitting like a brick in my throat. “Breaking off contact was her decision. Not yours.”
“I know…” she says flatly.
A memory blazes to life in my head. I was there the day it happened, when Tally packed for Nashville and her mama lost it.
‘You’re just like your good-for-nothin’ daddy, leavin’ me all alone. If you walk out this door now, you’re dead to me, Tally. I never want to see you again!’ Kim shouted.
Tally curled up in the passengers seat, back convulsing with sobs as we drove away and my hands gripped the wheel so tight I thought I’d rip it out. That was when I realized there was a kind of pain I couldn’t protect her from.
I stillcan’t.
The best I can offer her is one week in the cab of this truck and my company.
She wipes at her eyes. “Did you know Momma moved to Florida so I couldn’t find her? I had to hire a PI to track down my own mother!”
“I only heard that Kim left Redbird Creek a while after I came back. Must’ve been around the time your debut single released.”
Her chin trembles. “I tried to be a good daughter, but I was never good enough for her. Not even when my name lit up billboards and my albums topped the country charts. She never responded to my letters or picked up my calls. I sent her money, too, but she returned my cheques.”
I squeeze her arm. “Youwerea good daughter, even if she couldn’t see it.”
A lone tear rolls down Tally’s cheek and the hurt in her eyes is a blade through my chest.
