The Song

by Chris Fabry

  “What happened?”

  “Romey dropped him. Dropped him down into the nest with a plop. And it made me so mad I couldn’t see straight. Everybody just sat there and watched him. Like sheep. So I gritted my teeth and rushed him and slammed him into the wall with everything in me.”

  “And he wasn’t a little guy.”

  “No, he probably had fifty pounds on me. That was the only time I ever got sent to the office. I can still remember the principal’s face seeing me in there. He was so surprised. I was wearing pigtails and a pink bow in my hair and Romey had this big bump on his head and they gave him an ice pack.”

  “Sounds humiliating for Romey. But you were feisty.”

  “I still am. For things I believe in. For things I want to protect.”

  Talking with Jed was unlike any other conversation she had ever had with a guy. He actually asked questions. He wanted to know things about her instead of her always having to carry the conversation. And Jed never once brought up how big of a fish he caught or the latest trade of this player to that team.

  Rose began to see that dating Jed was not going to be like dating a boy. Sure, he had some rough edges and things he needed to work on. He had been consumed by the search for a music career and that artistic side drove him, she could tell. That could easily come between them. But it could also draw them together and forward as they moved through life.

  There it was again. Together. For life. What was she thinking? Why was she letting her mind go that far that fast?

  Of course, it didn’t help that every time she looked into his eyes, she got queasy in the stomach. His dark hair, the shadowy beard, square jaw . . . and those eyes. When he opened the door for her at the coffee shop, he touched her shoulder to guide her inside and she felt the tingle run to her toes. He was definitely eye candy, but he was more. So much more. And she wondered what their children might look like with his dark features and her blonde hair.

  Wow. She really had to stop that. Once she started imagining what their children would look like, it was pretty much all over.

  When he took her home and said good night on the front steps at 9:55 on the nose, he didn’t kiss her. Didn’t hug her. Didn’t make any physical advances apart from taking her hands in his, but that was enough. She wanted to kiss him passionately and hold him, but she held back.

  “I really enjoyed tonight,” he said. “I’d love to see you again. Soon.”

  “I’d like that too,” she said. “Maybe you could come here for dinner with us. Tomorrow night?”

  “I’ve got a meeting at church tomorrow night,” her dad said from inside the front window. “How about Wednesday?”

  Rose laughed and so did Jed. They agreed on Wednesday. He leaned in and whispered something she didn’t hear.

  “What was that?”

  “I told you it would be more than one date,” he said.

  She smiled and nodded. And as Jed drove away, she could have sworn she heard a chuckle from the other side of the screen.

  CHAPTER 14

  JED’S DINNER with Rose and Shep wasn’t perfect; there was a certain tension in the air with her dad at the table, a certain sense of protection he provided like a bear waiting to pounce. But Jed loved the conversation and interaction between the two of them. Rose cooked the meal, though Shep insisted on baking his famous corn bread and supplying the wine that went with the chicken and pasta and salad.

  “Corn bread is good with everything,” Shep said. And he was right.

  “I’d love to hear more about your mother,” Jed said, taking a sip of wine. He glanced at Shep. “If it’s okay to talk about.”

  The wrinkles on the man’s forehead faded for a moment. Then he gestured with a hand to ask away, though he didn’t say anything.

  “How did you two meet?”

  “Oh, you don’t want to hear that.”

  “Come on, Daddy. I like that story.”

  Jed wiped his mouth with a napkin and smiled at the man, inviting him further. He was so rough and unapproachable, but there was something about him that reminded Jed of his own father. He couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “We were both war babies. Born in the early forties. My daddy worked for her daddy on his farm from time to time.”

  “They were from the wrong side of the tracks,” Rose added.

  “You want to tell this or you want me to?” Shep said.

  “Go ahead. I’m just making sure Jed gets the whole picture.”

  Shep sat back and put his hands behind his head and stretched, closing his eyes. “I can remember the first time I noticed Rose’s mother. She was a year younger than me and there was this field near the elementary school where we played baseball and tag and red rover and such. The sun was coming up and there was dew on the grass and across the field came this pretty little thing with braided hair and her books held close to her chest.”

  Rose touched Jed’s arm and mouthed, “It was like a picture.”

  “It was like a picture,” Shep said. “Pretty as a speckled pup. I’d seen her on her farm, at school on the playground. But I’d never really seen her.”

  “Do you remember your first date?” Jed said.

  “That took a long time.”

  “To convince her to go out with you?”

  “To convince her parents that it was okay to go out with me.”

  “He was from the wrong side of the tracks,” Rose repeated, grinning. “Have I mentioned that already?”

  “I think I remember something about that,” Jed said.

  “My family didn’t have much. My daddy worked hard, though, and taught us the value of a day’s labor. He just didn’t see as much of a return as Lily’s dad. But I figured out pretty quick that my best shot at getting to know her would be at church. Their family was always at church. Every time the door was open, they’d be there.”

  “They sat by each other during Sunday school,” Rose said.

  “I was coming to the party without much. I didn’t know Jesus from Jehoshaphat. Couldn’t find Genesis in the King James Bible. But they made us memorize the books, in order, and that was about the hardest thing I’d ever done. I could barely spell my own name, let alone say Deuteronomy. Lily taught me a song with all the books in it.”

  “You sing?”

  He waved a hand. “It was a kids’ song.”

  “He used to lead singing at the church we went to, didn’t you, Daddy?”

  “The only thing I did was get everybody started and try to stop them at the same time. But in the middle of all of that, in the middle of having ulterior motives about getting to know Lily, I found somebody else.”

  Jed raised his eyebrows. “Another girl?”

  “No. Somebody bigger. I always thought church and religion were for people who needed some kind of crutch. I believed in God from the time I was a little thing. But I was a take-charge kind of guy. Make your own breaks. Even as a little fellow. But when I started reading the Bible, when I started looking at the stories and the way God moved in the hearts of people, real people, I wanted him to do that same thing with me.”

  “That’s when Mama got interested in him,” Rose said.

  “Now why don’t you just go on and tell the whole thing,” Shep said, shaking his head in mock frustration.

  “Mama told me that Daddy was rougher than a cob before they met. In school and all, he would be the first one in a fight. The first one jumping into the swimming hole. But after God got hold of his heart, he channeled all that energy and desire in a different direction.”

  “I’m still rough as a cob,” Shep said, putting a pat of butter on his corn bread. “But Lily put some talcum on me. Softened me up a little.”

  “How did you convince her parents you were good for Lily?” Jed said.

  Shep gave him a knowing look. Like the man understood the irony of the question. “I guess I wore them down over time and proved I was worthy of their daughter. Lily’s dad was a tough old bird and her mama was sweet as hucklebe
rry jam. But cross her and you had a fight on your hands. I sat right here and asked for her hand in marriage.”

  Jed sat back and looked at the room. “This was your mother’s house?”

  “It goes back to the Civil War,” Rose said.

  “To 1863,” Shep said. “The original farm was almost three hundred acres. Dairy. Tobacco. Corn. You name it. They passed the farm down from one generation to another, and when Lily and I married, her parents gave us a wedding present of about ten acres on the little knoll above the pond. We were going to build a house there, but I got a job at the sausage factory and we moved closer to that. Then, when Lily’s parents took ill, we came back here to help.”

  Shep pushed his plate away and stared at Jed. “Time for you to do some talking. Tell me about your mama. Is she doing all right?”

  “She is. Every now and then she’ll hear one of his songs on the radio and have a bad day. But I think she’s living with the loss of him and the weight of some of her own mistakes through the years.”

  “She was in his band, wasn’t she? Married to one of his guitar players.”

  “Daddy, maybe we shouldn’t talk about that,” Rose said.

  “It’s okay,” Jed said. “Yeah, they were friends. Sang together. Traveled together.”

  “Her first husband took his life, as I recall.”

  “He did. And that’s the kind of thing that will haunt you the rest of your life, if you let it. But God forgave them. The past doesn’t have to define you.”

  “True,” Shep said.

  He threw Jed some more questions about where he’d grown up and what life with his father was like, the fame and the travel.

  “He was more than just a singer and songwriter,” Jed said. “Most people only saw him as the public guy in the lights. He taught me how to build things. He was a really good carpenter. That’s the first thing I noticed when I walked in here, how solid this house is built. The curve of the staircase. The care and craftsmanship.”

  “We’ve worked hard to keep it up,” Shep said. “But you don’t sing much of your daddy’s songs, at least judging from Saturday night. I would think people would want to hear those.”

  “They do. And maybe if I went that direction, I’d be more successful.”

  “But you don’t want to go that direction.”

  “I’m trying to hear my own songs, Mr. Jordan. I’m trying to not live in his shadow or use his fame. I’ll sing them at some point, I’m sure.”

  “And if you don’t make it with the singing?” Now the man fixed him with a stare and the weight of the question hung in the air like woodsmoke from a burned-out campfire.

  “The way I look at it, if I put God first, everything else will fall in place.”

  “That’s not a bad answer,” Shep said. He stood and took his plate to the sink. “Why don’t you two take a walk. Show Jed the knoll I told him about.”

  “Leave the dishes, Daddy. We’ll do them later.”

  “No, I’m doing the dishes tonight. You cooked this meal. Now go on. Get out of here.”

  Rose smiled at Jed and grabbed her sweater and they walked toward the barn. When a cool breeze blew the autumn leaves, Rose crossed her arms in front of her.

  “Winter’s coming.”

  “Happens every year, doesn’t it?”

  “What’s your favorite season?” she said.

  “I like the new growth of spring. And the heat of summer. And the cold of the winter when you can snuggle up in front of a fire. But I think my favorite is fall.”

  “You like the change of colors in the leaves?”

  “Sure. But most of all I like it because it was in the fall that I found a Rose.”

  She pushed him and ran for the hill, and he chased her, listening to her laugh echo across the hillside and wondering if her father was watching out the window as he did the dishes. Had he run after Rose’s mother up this hill?

  “This is it,” she said, catching her breath. “This is where they were going to build their little house and start a family.”

  “What a view,” Jed said. “A great place to build something. You can see for miles. You can see the future from here, I’ll bet.”

  She took him down to the pond and he skipped a rock across the water.

  “How do you do that?” she said. “Every time I try, it’s . . . Well, watch.” She picked up a rock, angled her body, and threw it in with a kerplunk.

  “It wasn’t great,” he said. “The trick is, you have to pick the right rock.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. You want it flat so it’ll glide on the surface of the water.”

  “Like this?” she said.

  “Perfect. Try again.”

  She did and again it went kerplunk.

  “Yours skip like ten times,” she said. “How do you do that?”

  “My dad was legendary at slinging these things. Lethal, some would say. Come here.”

  He stood behind her and put a rock he had chosen in her hand. She fit perfectly against him, like a hand in a glove. Her perfume, her hair—everything about her was intoxicating and he had to focus on the task and not let his mind run.

  “So you take it right here with your index finger out like that. Pull back but not over your head. Sidearm it, right? And flick your wrist at the end.”

  She rested against his body and, over her shoulder, gave him a look like she understood and was feeling the same strong pull that he was. And when she threw it this time, she slung it like his father had shown him, flicking her wrist enough that the rock sailed onto the water and skipped, just like his heart did when he heard her victorious squeal and laughter.

  “I did it.”

  “You did it.”

  And it was in that moment that Jed could see them together. Could see them skipping rocks when they were older. Maybe a few children around them. He could see them here on the farm or in a house in Louisville or maybe Nashville and making trips on the weekends. Could a man see all of that on the second date? Or was this an illusion, something he wanted to see that couldn’t be achieved?

  No, it was real. The feeling in his heart was as real as the splash of the water and the ripples on the pond.

  You have stolen my heart, he thought. You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes.

  And she had done that. The only question was if he had done that for her.

  CHAPTER 15

  WITHOUT A MANAGER and with no recording contract, Jed felt untethered from the music world and everything he’d tried to build. There was a comfort in having people who worked out schedules and told you where to go and what to do while you concentrated on making music. But with the untethered feeling came a strange sensation of freedom. He was free from the expectations of people who wanted him to be something he wasn’t.

  Someone from a Christian college in Campbellsville, Kentucky, had been at the concert at the Jordan Vineyard and gotten his number from Rose. That gig led to a church in Lexington inviting him to play at a Friday evening coffeehouse event. The dates were spread out and there wasn’t much money involved, but Jed felt his roots growing deeper in his art, that there was a bigger purpose to his singing than making money and garnering praise. And that bigger purpose kept him coming back to Rose.

  She was all he could think about. He kept a mental picture of her smile with him when he fell asleep each night, and their conversations rolled around in his head on the drive home and at odd moments.

  “I was basically raised by my father . . . and two brothers,” she’d told him during one of their talks.

  “Where are they?”

  “Louisville. They weren’t cut out for wine making, so they bailed.”

  “Think you’ll ever bail?”

  “No. I love it. And family’s important to me. I guess I could find a career to pay for all the stuff I’ll eventually throw away or leave to someone else when I die. But family’s forever, right?”

  Those words echoed in his mind, and his response a
s well. She’d agreed to disagree about the Byrds singing “Turn! Turn! Turn!” He agreed to disagree about family being forever.

  “Your brothers ever come back?”

  “They didn’t come to the festival. Too busy, I guess. Too many memories, maybe. They’re not mean, just wandering.”

  She turned it back on him, grilled him about his own family. His relationship with his father, his mom, and the broken family his dad left.

  “I have two half brothers and a half sister.”

  “Are they musicians too?”

  “I don’t know, really.”

  “Why not?”

  “They refuse to talk to me.”

  “Why?”

  When he hesitated, she apologized and he waved her off. And he spilled the whole thing about the affair between his dad and mom, the baby conceived and aborted, and his birth. Rose listened intently as if she were reading the most interesting book about the most interesting person in the world.

  He took her to see a country singer he knew at a place in Nashville. A man he had fronted for once who probably didn’t even remember him, but he was sure to remember Jed’s father. They sat at a table in the back and talked over the music, and he wasn’t sure what he liked better—being alone in the car talking or here talking. Just being with her was all he needed.

  “Do you wish you were up there?” she said when the band took a break.

  “Part of me does. It’s kind of inside me to want to take the stage. It’s all I’ve really done except for the carpentry. But it’s the same, you know. Writing a song, building something. Singing and hammering are twin sons of different mothers. As long as you’re doing it for God, it doesn’t really matter what you do.”

  “That’s how I’ve always felt. There’s this verse in Psalms that keeps coming back to me. From Psalm 37.” She sat up straight and closed her eyes. A vein showed in her forehead as she concentrated, and he thought it was the most beautiful vein he’d ever seen. “‘Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture. Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.’”