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Turn the Page Page 2
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He smiled. Best sleep ever.
Keeping a consistent sleep schedule was one of the lessons they’d drilled into his head during rehab. It had been brutal at first—waking up at dawn with lights out no later than eleven—but the great thing about rehab is you’re not really given a choice but to get used to it, and so he did. Still, his nights had been filled with nightmares, fueled by guilt and loneliness, and rest hadn’t come easily, which made last night’s sweet dreams even sweeter.
Corbin sat up in bed and glanced around his childhood bedroom. Maggie had redecorated, now using it as a guest room for the grandkids. Gone were the concert posters and comic books. In fact, the only evidence that he’d once lived in this room could be found on the bookshelf, where Corbin’s journals were still neatly arranged. The pages of those leather-bound notebooks were filled with lyrics and guitar tabs. Most of his journals had made the trip with him to Nashville, and many of the lyrics had been used on his albums. The journals he’d left behind were full of teen heartbreak and rebellion. Corbin had known they were far too juvenile to actually put to music, but he learned long ago that some of the best songs come from the most ordinary of memories. So he’d kept them, just in case.
Corbin glanced at the nightstand. He’d kept something else, too.
“I wonder . . .”
He opened the drawer, and sure enough, his Bible was there.
Growing up, he’d struggled with religion. Not too surprising, since Mom was a devout Baptist and Dad was . . . undecided at best. Corbin had always wondered who was right, so he was hesitant to devote his life to any specific church denomination. It was Corbin’s grandfather—who preferred to just call himself a Christian—that always said the Lord didn’t care what religious label you slapped on yourself as long as you believed.
So, that’s what Corbin did. He believed.
And because he believed, his grandfather had given him that Bible.
Corbin reached for the book and opened it to the bookmarked page in Psalms. His mother always said it was his favorite book because the verses were songs.
She was probably right.
For fun, or maybe for a little guidance, Corbin closed his eyes and trailed his finger along the page. When he opened them, he read aloud in a gentle whisper.
“By day the Lord directs his love. At night his song is with me.”
With a sigh, Corbin closed the Bible and placed it back in the drawer. Feeling slightly inspired, he climbed out of bed and grabbed his guitar—another gift from his grandpa. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and strummed softly.
Corbin had written a lot of songs in this bedroom.
Some were decent. Most were crap.
Will I ever write again?
He had no idea. The desire was there, but the words just wouldn’t flow. Late in his career, it’d been easy to blame the partying and booze on his lack of creativity, but now he had no excuse, and Corbin couldn’t help but wonder if maybe his songwriting days were over.
He’d almost finished playing one of his old songs when a string snapped, causing him to curse loudly.
Way to go, Corb. If your folks weren’t awake before, they sure are now.
His suspicion was confirmed moments later, when he heard a soft knock on his door, followed by his mom’s voice.
“Good morning, potty mouth. Pancakes or waffles?”
Corbin grinned.
It was good to be home.
After breakfast, Corbin felt the need to escape for a few hours before the entire family descended. Using his broken guitar string as an excuse, Corbin drove into town to check out the new bookstore. He peeked through the window and was happy to see it wasn’t too crowded. A tinkling bell greeted him as he walked through the door.
“I’ll be right with you!” A woman’s voice called from somewhere in the store.
Corbin took the opportunity to look around. Turn the Page was definitely a small shop, but it had shelves upon shelves of books and music. He hadn’t read a book in years, so naturally, he gravitated toward the instruments. A few mandolins and guitars were displayed on the back wall, and beneath them was a huge collection of sheet music, songbooks, and strings. He hummed along with the Ed Sheeran song streaming from the store’s speakers while he searched through the CD bin. Corbin grinned when he found artists like Mumford and Sons, Brandy Clark, Alison Krauss, and Chris Stapleton.
Mom’s right. This girl’s a music lover.
Then he saw it. The CD was impossible to miss, especially with his name right there on the cover in big, red letters.
Corbin’s hands froze.
Then they started to shake.
It seemed like a hundred years ago, but in reality, it had only been five. At the age of eighteen, Corbin had been confident. Some called him cocky. Looking back, he realized that was probably a more accurate description.
With trembling hands, he flipped the CD to look at the track listing on the back of his debut album. Corbin had written every song on it. A couple were hits. Most weren’t. When his label suggested he write more radio-friendly songs for the second album, he’d ignored them. Without their support, that album had drifted into obscurity. Just like its singer.
“Good album. Local guy.”
Corbin looked up to find himself staring into a pair of deep green eyes. Her face flickered with surprise when she recognized her customer. Then she laughed.
“Oh. I guess you know it’s good. I mean, since it’s yours.”
He grinned. “Sorry, Mom told me your name but—”
“It’s Jolie. Jolie Daniels.”
“Nice to meet you, Jolie. And I’m glad you like it. You’re one of the few.”
“Well, that’s not your fault. That indie-folk-rock thing is considered cool . . . now. You were way before your time. It’s a shame, too, because it’s a good album. A solid debut. You should be proud of it.”
Corbin smiled. It’d been a long time since someone had gone total fangirl on him. It felt good. Especially coming from such a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen.
I want to write a song about those eyes.
“I appreciate that, Jolie. You know, I could sign it for you.”
She frowned. “Why would I want you to sign it?”
Corbin grimaced when he checked the price. It was almost insulting.
“Because you could sell it for more than five bucks. It’s out of print now. It might be worth some cash, especially with my autograph. And I’m sure you could use the money.”
“What makes you think I need the money?”
“Everybody can use—”
“My bookstore does just fine, thank you very much.”
“I’m sure it—”
“I don’t need your charity. Especially for a CD that I can’t even give away.” Her voice softened. “Which is a shame, because it’s a good album, with a lot of heartfelt lyrics.”
Corbin smirked. “You really think it’s good?”
“I do, but I certainly don’t need you to do me any favors by signing it.”
She was even more gorgeous when she was pissed.
“I’m sorry. Honestly. You were just looking at me with those big green eyes, all star-struck and cute, and I thought—”
Her shoulders stiffened. “Star-struck? Are you serious?”
“Well . . .”
Jolie snatched the CD out of his hand and tossed it back into the bin.
“Let me tell you something, Corbin James. I don’t need your charity, and I am nowhere near star-struck. You were a good musician . . . five years ago. Do you still play? When’s the last time you wrote a song?”
He actually wrote a song about a month ago, but he thought it was pretty shitty, and he wouldn’t dare show it to anyone.
“I’m sor—”
“Apology accepted. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have books to shelve.”
“I could use some guitar strings.”
“We’re out of strings.”
He glanced at the gigantic wall of strings. Liar.
“Have a nice day, Corbin James.”
He couldn’t keep from smiling as Jolie stalked toward the self-help section. He tried to ignore the way her jeans swayed and the way her blonde ponytail bounced as she walked away.
Corbin had never been good at ignoring such things.
“Is there a reason we’re eating outside and not in the dining room?” Corbin asked as he carried yet another dish out onto the deck. “I mean, it’s only ninety degrees out here.”
“Yeah, but the humidity’s low,” Samuel said, grinning at his cranky son. “We’re eating outside because your mother wants it that way, and that, my son, is the glue that’s kept our happy marriage together for nearly thirty years. You’ll understand someday.”
I seriously doubt that.
“Ben and the girls are on their way. And Lacey’s bringing a boy home. She’s pretty excited to introduce him to the family. He’s an English teacher.”
“I hope he’s not Lacey’s teacher.”
Samuel chuckled. “Me, too.”
Corbin had been six when Lacey James came into the world. Brother Ben, a jealous four-year-old, refused to acknowledge her presence at first, leaving Corbin with the sole responsibility of taking care of their baby sister. Ben’s animosity faded over the years, but Corbin remained the brother that Lacey would turn to if she ever found herself in a jam. Creative and energetic, Lacey loved music, astrology, and Paris.
And now, apparently, a teacher.
“Does Ben still work at the fire hall?” Corbin asked.
“He’s chief now. Between his job and the girls, he stays busy.” Samuel glanced at his watch. “They should be here any minute now.”
On cue, happy squeals erupted through the house as two very cute redheads rushed out onto the deck. Corbin watched in quiet amusement as the girls wrapped themselves around each of their grandfather’s legs. Suddenly, that twin intuition kicked in, and both girls’ heads turned in their uncle’s direction.
Corbin nervously cleared his throat.
“Uncle Corb!” They sang in unison, and within seconds, Corbin had a child wound around each of his knees. Surprised at their enthusiasm for a virtual stranger, he anxiously glanced at his father.
Samuel grinned. “Say hello to your nieces, Uncle Corb.”
With a hesitant smile, he said hello and sat down at the table. The girls chose a seat on each side of him.
“I’m Hope,” the twin on the left announced proudly.
“And I’m Faith.”
Corbin appreciated the introductions considering they were identical. He didn’t have a clue which was which.
“Well, well, Uncle Corb looks like shit.”
Corbin looked up to find his brother, Ben, standing in the doorway.
He smirked. “Shouldn’t you watch your mouth around my nieces?”
Ben’s very pregnant wife appeared and promptly slapped the back of her husband’s head. “Yes, he should. Hello, Corbin. Good to see you.”
“You, too.”
Kellie had never been a fan of her brother-in-law, so Corbin was surprised by her polite greeting. He knew it wouldn’t last long.
Ben sat down at the table and grabbed a roll. “My girls know that Daddy has a potty mouth sometimes. They’re cool.”
The girls giggled. Hope turned her bright eyes toward her uncle.
“You promised to play a song for us.”
“Did I?”
Faith nodded. “On Skype. You said you’d play.”
“Maybe Uncle Corbin’s forgotten how to play,” Kellie said. “He’s quite forgetful. Forgets his family. Forgets his way home.”
Corbin smirked. There’s the Kellie I remember.
“I see you haven’t changed a bit, Kel.”
“Let’s hope you have.”
He watched as his sister-in-law tried to sit down at the table. Her protruding stomach made it difficult, but it only took one steely glare at her husband for him to snap to attention and shift the table to give her room to breathe. Kellie finally sat down with a tired huff and grabbed a handful of grapes.
“Where is my brother?” Lacey’s voice rang through the air, and before Corbin could blink, he was wrapped in the powerful and loving embrace of his little sister.
“I’ve missed you,” she said with conviction. “And you’re staying.”
He leaned back and took a long look at his sister, stunned to find that she’d grown into a beautiful young woman. When did that happen?
Corbin chuckled. “Missed you, too. And I am?”
“You are. Your horoscope says so. I’m just not sure why.”
Corbin didn’t have the heart to tell her that she was wrong. He wasn’t staying. Not forever, anyway.
“Whatever you say, Lace. Now where’s this guy you’re bringing home?”
A dreamy, glazed expression crossed her face as she focused on whoever was standing in the doorway. Corbin turned to see a tall, lanky blonde gazing adoringly at his little sister. The guy looked more like a surfer than a teacher.
“I assume that’s him?” Corbin smirked.
Lacey nodded and made her way to the man’s side. Corbin stood up and offered his hand.
“This is Andrew,” she said softly.
“It’s nice to meet you, Corbin.”
“You, too. You teach English?”
Andrew nodded. “I have an unhealthy obsession with literature. I can’t write, so it was either teach or open a bookstore.”
Corbin immediately thought of Jolie and her bookstore. Are books her obsession, too?
“Dinner’s ready!” Maggie announced, placing the platter of fried chicken in the middle of the table.
After a quick prayer, everyone dug in. Family dinners were always loud, and this one was no exception. Not that Corbin contributed much to the adults’ conversation. He was too busy being schooled on Disney princesses.
“Aurora is Sleeping Beauty,” Hope explained.
Her twin sister nodded seriously. “And Ariel is the Little Mermaid.”
“And then there’s Jasmine,” Ben chimed in. “You know, from Aladdin?”
Corbin didn’t know, but he found it hilarious that his brother did. He couldn’t help but tease him about it later, when he and Ben carried dishes to the kitchen.
“My brother—the big tough firefighter and Disney princess expert.”
“That’s what happens when you have daughters. You either embrace it or you die.”
Corbin chuckled just as Lacey and her boyfriend joined them in the kitchen.
“Andrew wants to see the river,” she said. “Come with us?”
As kids, they’d all loved the water, but especially Corbin, who used to take his guitar and sit down by the bank. He wrote some of his best songs while watching the river flow. As he got older, he often wondered about the girl he’d bring there. The river was sacred, and it couldn’t be just any girl. She’d have to be special. Someone who could appreciate the simplistic beauty of the land. Someone who was important to him.
Needless to say, Corbin had never taken a girl to the river.
Lacey, mistaking her brother’s silence for reluctance, reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I know it’s a lot . . . being back home and having everyone around. But Andrew and I are only staying the weekend, and I want you to get to know him. It’s important to me. Please?”
Corbin thought it was strange, seeing his little sister so grown up and in love. It made him sad, realizing once again how much he’d missed over the past five years.
But he didn’t have to miss this.
“Of course, Lace. Let’s go to the river.”
Lacey and Andrew held hands as they walked along the dirt path that led to the river’s banks. To Corbin’s surprise, he was holding hands, too, with Hope on his left and Faith on his right. The twins had begged to come with them, and Corbin didn’t have the heart to turn them down.
And honestly, h
e hadn’t wanted to.
Once they reached the water, Lacey and the twins went to look for shells while the guys found what little shade they could and made themselves comfortable on the dock. Corbin had no idea what to say, so he started with the basics.
“So, it’s your first year teaching?”
“Yeah. I have a couple of freshman lit classes and I teach drama,” Andrew replied. “By the way, I know everybody’s probably wondering, but Lacey’s not one of my students. I teach at a high school in Chapel Hill.”
Corbin grinned. “I did wonder, to be honest. How’d you meet?”
“Through my sister. She and Lacey are roommates at UNC.” Andrew smiled and gazed out across the water. “I can see why you guys love the river so much. It really is peaceful out here.”
“It is.”
“Who hears the rippling of rivers will not utterly despair of anything.”
“Pretty words. I might steal them.”
“If you do, be sure to give credit to Thoreau. They belong to him. But don’t worry, Corbin. You’ll find your pretty words again. Lacey tells me you’re a talented songwriter.”
“I’m a songwriter, yeah. Talented is debatable.”
“Not to your sister it isn’t. She believes that’s why you’ve come home after all this time. And that’s why you’ll stay. To help you find your music again. And maybe to find yourself. She seems to think you’ve lost a little of both.”
Lacey wasn’t wrong. He had lost himself, and it was true that the song lyrics weren’t flowing like they used to. But for now, his focus had to be on his sobriety. And finding a job.
“I can’t stay. Not long, anyway,” Corbin said softly. “Besides, there’s really nothing for me here.”
“Your family’s here. Maybe that’s enough for now.”
Corbin stared, transfixed, while his sister and nieces danced in the shallow water.
“Maybe it is,” he whispered.
The rest of the weekend passed in a blinding, family-crazed blur. Determined to embarrass their sister, Corbin and Ben passed around old photo albums while their mom took new pictures to fill the empty pages. Thanks to the twins, Corbin had been subjected to one Disney movie right after another, and once dinner was over, the family gathered on the porch. Since he still needed new strings, Corbin played his dad’s old guitar. Songs he hadn’t played in years flowed freely from his fingertips as everyone sang along.