Page 77 of Moonlit Hideaway
The room filled with voices, but Hank’s focus remained on Sierra. He watched her, every expression, every movement,laden with meaning. He understood everyone’s care for her and admired Sierra’s grace in receiving all the well-wishes.
Annie, the grocer, bounced on her toes and gave Sierra an air kiss. “Bless you, dear. So brave of you to risk your life for our Hank.”
Hank’s anxiety hit a new high when Carl and Martha Thompson, the hardware store owners, elbowed their way to Sierra’s side.
“We underestimated you,” Carl declared. “An angel in disguise. You saved Emma from those recruiters.”
“Mark my words,” Martha said. “I suspected their nefarious purposes, but you saw right through them. Tricking our Emma with false promises of becoming a star. Humpf.”
Emma’s jaw dropped, and she put her hands on her hips in indignation. Hank wanted to reach out and steady her, letting his daughter know she didn’t have to respond to every remark, but he was hemmed in by the bed rails.
“You’re wrong about the false promises,” Sierra said in a raw voice. “Emma has real talent, but those two weren’t the right agents.”
Emma plopped onto Sierra’s bed and put her arm around her idol. “That’s right. I don’t need them when I can tour with Sierra.”
Lightning bolts jolted Hank’s nerves. Emma had just blown Sierra’s cover.
“Oh, no!” Emma covered her mouth, and tears filled her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
But it was too late. The name caught on as it echoed around the room. “Sierra, as in Sierra Rayne?”
Hank’s muscles tightened, and he felt a protective surge. He couldn’t blame Emma for slipping, but at the same time, everything was falling apart. Marco had discovered Sierra and now, her secret was out to the entire town. He only wanted toshield her and keep her safe from prying eyes and gossiping tongues.
“I knew it,” Patty from the thrift shop exclaimed. “Fancy woman with fancy clothes comes to my thrift shop and buys mom jeans and baggy shirts. She looked familiar, and now I can see it.”
“Your guitar teacher is Sierra Rayne?” Emma’s best friend, Rosalie, poked her arm. “How come you lied and called her Jane?”
A buzz rose through the room, with everyone having a say. Even Howie joined in, saying, “That’s why I call her Seajane, not because Hank pulled her out of the sea, but…”
“Everyone, you’ve found me out,” Sierra said with fake cheer. “Emma’s right. I’d love to tour with her if her father would permit. She will be singing at the Harvestfest, and I’m sure you’ll all agree with me that she’s your homegrown Hattokwan talent.”
“Hear, hear for Emma!” Everyone cheered as Hank alternated between proud Papa and worrywart helicopter parent.
He felt Sierra’s hand on his, squeezing it, and when he looked into her eyes, all he saw was love as she began to sing. Her voice, warbling at first, rose steadily, filling the room and touching his heart. She sang of the beacon of hope, the lighthouse, and the seagrass and the moon silvery over the waters, about themes of belonging, finding a home, and a light in the darkness. A sanctuary and the seabirds, and the relentless sea rushing on the sand, of timelessness and love, and as she sang, she drew him into her world and held him in the arms of her melody, of belonging and safety—a home, warm and cozy—forever in her heart.
She held the final note as if cradling his heart, and when it faded, the room erupted into cheers and applause.
“You absolutely must sing at the Harvestfest,” Tina, Emma’s teacher, whooped. “Emma said you’re singing a duo.”
The doctor clapped his hands, shouting, “My patients need to rest,” but no one paid him any attention.
Sierra accepted the applause with a glowing smile. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I composed that song for all of you islanders.”
Like ants appearing at a picnic, Mayor Winston and Linda Marshall pushed their way into Hank’s room.
“Well, I’ll be darned. Our little Jane Dolan is really Sierra Rayne, the mega pop star,” the mayor exclaimed.
Linda’s mouth fell open. “You’re Sierra Rayne? As Marco’s wife, you own the land at Cedar Point. Congratulations.”
Hank’s world fell apart. The bottom dropped from his heart as he gaped at Sierra. Her face paled, and she looked stricken as all eyes turned to her.
“What… what do you mean, Marco’s wife?” The words were like physical blows, knocking the breath from him.
“It’s true… but I can explain.” Her lips trembled as if she was back in the ice-cold water, and her eyes pled for understanding. “Marco forced me into a marriage on his yacht. But it wasn’t real to me… not in my heart.”
Hank had no words. How in the world could she think it right to sacrifice herself for him—but at the same time, she’d saved Emma. How could he live knowing she had trapped herself in the hands of a cruel master for his sake?
“What are you going to do now?” The question tasted bitter with no hope of a satisfactory answer.
