She’s My Kind Of Rain (Rawlings Ranch #1)

Chapter 3

3

DAISY - MAY 4, 2004

I wake up feeling like the events from yesterday, though awful at first, might be a blessing in disguise. For some reason, I can’t seem to get Nashville out of my head. It’s like there is some greater force pulling me toward it. I grab a navy lace cami out of my drawer, layer it with a matching navy top, some ripped low-rise bell-bottoms and matching flip flops almost as if I am on autopilot while my mind swirls with possibilities. Turning my wet-dry straightener on, I wait to hear a beep, confirming it’s ready to use before gliding it over my bangs, passing over them twice just in case.

I consider my options here in Tansy, laughing softly to myself because there are none. At least none that could top my previous job. And as I’m stuck at a mental fork in the road, it hits me like a ton of bricks— I should move . The thought seems rather outrageous, honestly, and if I’d have considered it any other time, I would have easily talked myself out of it, but if there was ever a time that made more sense, this was it. So I sit down at my desk again, grabbing a notepad and pen to jot down a list of everything I will need to make this happen. I scribble down the first most obvious necessities that come to mind—a place to live, a job to pay for it, and things like hopefully an easy commute if I get a chance to work at Telluride—before rebooting my computer to look up places to live.

If I have a good plan, Mom won’t be as upset , I remind myself, hoping that the reminder alone will convince me to move forward.

Within twenty minutes, I’ve only found two potential listings that will leave a decent cushion for me in case I need it. The bad news? They’re not in the greatest neighborhoods according to the photos, and if I don’t want Mom worrying herself to death over me, I need to find something else. With a sigh, I widen my search. Who needs a cushion anyways, right? All I really want is Mom’s support.

Her overprotective mothering has always been something I hated growing up, but right now I’m beyond thankful for it being in the back of my mind. Starting my search again with a new budget in mind, I find way more options, my favorite being this beautiful house just outside the city, but not so far that it would affect commuting to Telluride, if I get the job. And the best part? It comes fully furnished. With newfound hope, I move onto more job searching, should Telluride not end up working out. More and more I believe in my heart that this move to Nashville is meant to be.

Surprisingly enough, there are plenty of job opportunities close to the rental I landed on. I write down the phone numbers for every position available nearby to save money on gas commuting to and from my hopeful future home. I look over the list and slowly exhale. Excited, yet nervous for all that is to come. I close out all the tabs, unplug the phone jack from the computer, and plug the landline back in.

I lift the phone and the dial tone rings out from the other end. Slamming it down, I take a deep breath. Guilt wells up in me, and I reconsider my entire plan. What will she think? Will she see it for the amazing opportunity I think it is, or will she feel like now she’s losing me too? First Dad...now me. I could abandon the idea, back out without anyone knowing what I had planned. But, just like Dad used to always say, “ You miss out on all the opportunities you don’t take .” I guess the worst that can happen is that I’d fall instead of fly, but I am lucky enough to know that either way my mom will always still love me.

I exhale slowly, trying to remind myself that nothing is permanent. I can’t risk the opportunity of trying something new on fear alone, so I pick the phone back up, dialing the realtors office first, since living somewhere is definitely my top priority. I pack a suitcase full of all my clothes, which oddly enough isn’t many, and then toss in a few family photos, so that no matter what, my new house feels like a home.

After everything is as squared away as it can be, I take one more look over my room and grab Dad’s guitar, worry now settling back in my gut. I hope Mom understands, but even if she doesn’t, I have to do something for myself for once. I head downstairs, my breathing becoming more and more shallow with each step I take toward the kitchen.

“Good morn—Sweetie, what is all this?” Her eyes flick to my bags, then land on Dad’s guitar.

Well, here goes nothing. “I was up most of the night and then this morning, really thinking about life,” I blurt out. “Mostly about what my answer would be if someone were to ask me what my dream life looked like, and I realized something...”

My mom’s eyes shift from the case then to me, worry lingering in her look.

“I don’t know what my dream life would be, because I’ve always spent so much time just trying to make sure to fit Tansy Bay into that answer. And because of that, I’ve never even considered venturing out to discover what the possibilities were,” I continue to ramble, still piecing everything together myself, while trying to remain confident in my decision.

She shifts her stance crossing both arms across her chest as she listens.

“Last night, I was looking for you in the attic and stumbled upon dad’s guitar, and it got me thinking about the opportunity he gave up so that he could stay here with us. I know he always felt that was the right choice, and for him it might have been, but for now I have nothing forcing me to stay here…” My hands feel clammy, thanks to the anxiety, and I adjust my grip on the handles of everything I am carrying. “...Not even a job as of yesterday. So I’ve made the very rash decision to make an adventure out of this. I was saving up to get my own place, but since there is really no reason to buy a house near W.M.G, why not take a chance and head to Nashville?”

Her eyes look like they might pop right out of her head with the word vomit I just spewed out. “...Nashville?”

“Look, Mom. I ju?—”

She cuts me off before I can even try to justify my bold decision. “Daisy, before you waste your time trying to convince me that this is a good decision, don’t.”

I feel the wind deflate from my sails, preparing myself for mom’s attempt to convince me not to leave.

“I already think that going to Nashville is wonderful. Your father would be so proud of you for taking a leap of faith and trying something new.” She pauses for a moment to think.

Her words bring a smile not only to my lips, but also my heart. She approves? No convincing me to stay here? No argument? My heart squeezes with joy.

“If you ever change your mind,” she continues on, “you can come right back here, no questions asked. I have nothing but confidence that this is the right move for you, and I will do my best to help you in any way that I can.” She offers me a soft, warm smile. “Now, how are you going to get there? Do you need a ride to the airport or are you going to drive? What about a place to live? I would like to make sure your ducks are in a row so that I know you are safe.”

Stunned, I feel the weight of the world lift off my shoulders. Mom has never been one for leaps of faith, but rather consistently playing it safe. This can’t be easy for her, yet she’s giving me every reason to move forward, and it means more to me than I can ever express.

“Well, I told the realtor that I would be there tonight because I didn’t want to lose out on a really nice place. So I’m going to drive and hope that I find the house in time,” I answer a bit too honestly.

She lets out a nervous laugh. “Absolutely not. I’ll drive with you and then fly back. I’ve been on this trip many times with your dad, I could most likely drive it with my eyes closed.”

Relief sweeps over me with the idea that she is going to help take the stress of getting lost all alone off my plate, but guilt lingers. “Are you sure you’re okay with coming, Mom? I know this is a lot to ask, especially with such short notice.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to, honey. One good part about owning my own business is that I can close whenever I want, and, luckily, the timing is perfect. I don’t have any big orders that my team can’t handle while I’m away. Trust me, I need an adventure just as much as you do.”

We head out of town, leaving Tansy Bay in the rearview, and something about that feels therapeutic. The weight of the last day and a half lifts off my shoulders, and excitement now replaces the sadness I’ve been feeling.

We discuss the rental I found and my job offer as a coffee barista before conversation shifts to all the fun opportunities that there might be, including the potential interview at Telluride Records, where not to go—since apparently my mom is an expert on Nashville—and whatever else comes up in passing. Anytime the conversation slows, we crank the music and sing to the Country station, just like we used to when we would go on long trips with my dad. I can’t remember the last time Mom and I have done anything like this, if at all, but I can’t ignore the happiness I feel, getting to embark on this new chapter of life with her at my side.

Several hours—and a few pit stops—later, we pull up to a small white two-story house in Green Hills. The front door is painted a bright canary yellow and each window has a flower box filled with Begonias and Marigolds. A beautiful honey-toned wood porch resides off the back and the entire scene is wrapped in a cute little white picket fence. We both let out audible awes as we take in all the little details, agreeing not a single adjustment needs to be made—it’s perfect. I never even dreamed of living in a house like this back home, let alone in the Country Music capital of the world, but here I am, and I’m happy to be here.

A tall, beautiful woman with strawberry blonde hair is waiting with keys in hand. Dressed in a simple black and white polka dot dress and white flats to match, she’s nothing like the realtors from Tansy where jeans are found to be business casual .

“Good evening, I’m Brittany Mullen, the realtor ya spoke with earlier. How was the drive?” She has the slightest southern drawl and the enthusiasm of someone a little too happy to be passing over rental keys after regular business hours.

“Long, but actually really fun.” I turn and smile at my mom.

“I’m happy to hear it! I have all the rental papers drawn up. I’ll just have ya sign here…” She gestures to the paper she has clipped to her clipboard, “And grab the check for first and last month’s rent as a deposit. Then I’ll leave ya to it.” The slightest southern twang comes out in her voice.

“Absolutely. Thank you for all of your help, and for meeting us late in the day,” I say, accepting the keys and handing over the check I had already written after speaking with her on the phone this morning.

“You ladies have a lovely day. Please call if there’s anything else I can do for ya,” she says, moseying down the sidewalk toward her little blue sports car to leave.

I turn to my mom, excitement bursting from every seam. “I can’t believe I’m holding keys to my very first place, or that it just so happens to be in Green Hills, Tennessee instead of Tansy.”

“I’m glad I get to be a part of it, sweetie.” She smiled brightly, all but vibrating with her own excitement. “Now what are you waiting for? Let’s see the inside!”

Looking from her, to the keys, to the house, I make a slight squeal, then run up the stairs to the front door. I place the key in the lock, listen for the click, then swing the door open, enamored by the beautiful interior of my new place. The walls are painted a happy shade of yellow and the artwork on the wall directly in front of me is a field of daisies. My heart fills with joy at the sight, and I can’t help but feel as if this is where I’m meant to be.