The Inn at Laurel Creek by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson Page A

Lawdy be, I should learn to keep my mouth shut, but I just figured you knew after spendin' time with him. If Stan's warned me about this once, he's warned me a hun'rd times, but there I went, openin' my big mouth again."
    I straightened in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest. I thought back to the first time I heard Ben sing and the familiarity of his voice. I thought I'd recognized it, but I couldn't quite place it, so I just wrote it off to my wonky brain. I thought about his reasons for coming to the Inn to write. He said he wanted to get away. He said he'd performed before, but gave me the impression it was something minor, just like he said the groupies were no big deal. Just a few hours earlier he'd left to meet with his manager via a limo driver. What starving artist could afford a limo driver, or a manager for that matter? So just who was Ben? I ran through the names of all of the famous singers I could think of, and none of them were named Ben.
    "I don't understand. I can't think of any famous singer named Ben," I said to Lou.
    Lou's mouth curled upward and her blue eyes sparkled. "Don't you listen to the radio?" She waved her hand. "Never you mind. I got somethin' to show you." She walked over to an old oak cabinet pushed up against the wall next to the fireplace, and pulled open the top drawer. "This here'll help." She pulled out a CD and handed it to me.
    I nearly dropped the CD when I saw the picture of someone who looked an awful lot like Ben, and read the name above it. "Bret Bennett? Ben is Bret Bennett?" I jumped out of my seat. "I knew his voice sounded familiar!"
    Lou's smile grew, and she nodded. "That's our Ben all right."
    Bret Bennett was a well-known, incredibly popular singer. He'd had at least two songs at the top of the charts consistently for the past few years. I wouldn't admit it out loud, but one of his current songs had been played so often I'd started changing the channel when it played. Bret Bennett was a sultry, bluesy singer with a hint of pop to his music. He sang about love and loss, and not surprising to me anymore, growing up with just a mother. Bret Bennett had short, dark brown hair that he worn in a high and tight style, and dressed in Ralph Lauren and all of the latest expensive designer clothes. Bret Bennett was hot and every girl wanted their chance with him—from teenagers to stay-at-home moms, and including my best friends.
    Ben had longer, shaggy blond hair, dressed in t-shirts and ripped jeans, a casual and carefree style. Ben was sexy and sweet in his own right, but there was an innocence and shyness to him that made it impossible to believe the two were one. "That's not Ben," I said, shaking my head in stiff, rapid movements. But I knew it was. I could tell by the eyes, their slight angle up on the sides, and the speckles of dark blue in the lighter blue iris. I could tell by the way his lips curled up in his smile, and by the shape of his front teeth, especially because one stuck out just a tiny bit more than the other. I knew Bret was Ben, and picturing Ben while staring at Bret made it clear as day. "Oh my God."
    Lou's smile grew ever bigger, if that was at all possible, and she chuckled. "Yup, it's him all right. Our little Ben is a famous singer, just like his momma always said he would be."
    My friends moaned when they heard him on the radio. I did too, especially when I'd hear his hit from last year, "The Love in My Heart"—a song about losing his mother, and how his heart was filled with the love she'd given him when she was alive. I teared up just thinking of the song, especially knowing what I knew from my time with him.
    I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come out. Instead I made a grunting sound or two, and just stared wide-eyed at the CD case while Lou laughed some more. And then it hit me. "Now every time it rains I feel like she's showering me with kisses. That's why that was familiar to me. It's the song."
    "That's the song he wrote about