by Mary May
Love Letters Mary May
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
THE END
Chapter 1
The hot Texas sun blazed down mercilessly. Stopping briefly, Sherrilyn placed a still-wet shirt over the back of her neck. It was pink enough already. Between the wind and the heat, they actually dried faster on the line than in a dryer. Plus, she could hang out two loads at once. This was her least favorite chore, and it was a daily job. If she skipped even one day, then it took forever to catch up. It seemed like her baby brother messed up more clothes than she and her daddy put together, and Devon was only six!
“One day I will be so rich I will hire someone to do my washing for me,” she promised herself. Letting her dreams of stardom carry her far away, she began humming under her breath. Tonight she would actually get to sing in front of an actual audience! Not her family, not the people at church, but total strangers that expected a good show. She had seen Earl Finley at the gas station two weeks ago and had begged for an opportunity to sing at his bar. He had looked skeptical at first until she had belted out a Tanya Tucker tune right in the middle of the Jiffy-Mart parking lot. He agreed, but she had to get her dad’s permission. Feeling the wings of what must be a million nervous butterflies in her stomach, she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly the way her choir teacher at church taught her. Pinning the last wet shirt on the line, she hurried inside to start supper and pick out what she would wear.
Two hours later. “Daddy, please! I have already said I would sing tonight. Please let me go! I’m not a baby anymore; I’m nearly eighteen!”
Doug Lane looked down into his daughter’s blue eyes that were begging him for permission that he just couldn’t give her. Sherry rarely asked for anything. But in this his answer was final.
“Baby, I’m sorry. You should have talked to me about this before you agreed to anything. I know that Earl means well and he is a decent guy, but he runs a bar and the last time I checked you were still well under the legal age to even go in there. I really don’t know what he was thinking to even ask.”
“Maybe he thinks I have real talent.” Sherrilyn’s answer was barely above a whisper.
Pulling her into his arms, he kissed the top of her blonde curls that were so much like her mother’s it made his heart ache. “Baby girl, you have all the talent in the world. You sound just like the angels in heaven when you sing. Don’t you doubt that for a minute. I know you will be singing on the radio one day, but you won’t be getting that start in Earl’s bar, at least not for another few years. Do I make myself clear?” Giving her one last look in warning, he walked off into the living room.
Wiping away tears of frustration, Sherrilyn turned back to the stack of dirty supper dishes. Scrubbing furiously at the stuck-on food, she felt sick with disappointment. It seemed nothing was going right this year. The loss of her mother just a few short months ago was a hard blow for the entire family. She missed her every single minute. Ashleigh Lane had a peaceful sweet spirit that reached out to embrace whoever was nearby. It didn’t seem to matter what was troubling her; the moment she stepped into her mother’s arms, it all went away. No matter how she tried, she couldn’t find that peaceful place anymore, except when she was singing.
The earliest memories she had of singing in front of anyone were bittersweet ones. They usually involved sitting in the front seat of the car going grocery shopping with her mother. Whenever her mother was in the car for longer than five minutes, she would sing, sometimes old folksy songs but mostly hymns. Sherrilyn had learned at a very early age how to harmonize and switch harmonies if needed. She loved to listen to the rich alto of her mother’s voice; it would give her goosies every time. When she was around five, she asked why she got goose bumps sometimes when she heard certain songs.
“Well, sweetie, that usually means you felt what the singer was feeling. That’s the sign of a true artist. Singing pretty notes in the right tune isn’t what really makes a great singer. The ones with the gift can reach down with only their voices and rip your heart right from your chest and throw it on the floor, or lift it up right to the throne room of heaven.”
From that moment on, Sherrilyn knew what she wanted to be. Not just a singer or a performer. But someone who could take you on a journey without ever leaving the room. A true artist like her mother was. Watching the greasy suds swirl down the drain, she felt like her dreams were being washed away, too.
“I tried everything. He just won’t budge!” Sherrilyn whispered into the phone later that evening. She had pulled the hall phone into her room then into her closet as she confided in her best friend, Susan.
“Well, hang on. Let me think. There has to be a way!”
After a few minutes of silence, she spoke again. “Ok, what is the latest you can leave your house and be at the bar on time?”
Scrunching her nose, Sherrilyn did the math in her head. “No later than ten thirty. Why?” She listened as Susan devised a perfect plan.
Thirty minutes later she was holding a towel for her little brother Devon. “I know it’s not like mama used to do it, sweetie. I have no idea how she made the bubbles blue for you. I promise I will try to find out, ok?” Rubbing the towel on his blonde head, she smiled. Devon was nearly twelve years younger than her and she adored him. Blue-eyed with twin dimples, he was a total charmer, and did he know it! Having Devon was what had started her mother’s decline in health. The doctors all warned her not to have any more children, but she had wanted a son for her dad so desperately. Finally, her dad gave in and let her have the baby she had begged for. Sherrilyn had thought the baby was hers at first, a living doll for her to dress up and play mama with. Unfortunately, as her mother steadily grew weaker, she had to take on that role for real. She didn’t mind it, though; she loved Devon with her whole heart. One day she would have a houseful of kids. That would be after a successful singing career, of course. Giving his head one final brisk rub with the towel, she helped him get into his worn Spiderman jammies. She had to cut out the feet because he was all legs and getting taller by the day. Turning back the covers, he climbed into bed, flipping his pillow over until it was just right. “Sing “Old Halo” for me? Please?” he begged as she tucked him in.
“Alright, sweetie, but just one time, ok?” Nodding, he snuggled down into the covers, his blue eyes already getting heavy. Stroking his hair, she began to sing…
I know a man rich as a king
Still he won’t give his neighbors a thing
His day will come I’ll make a bet
He’ll get to heaven and here’s what he’ll get…
A rusty old halo, a skinny white cloud, second-hand wings full of patches
A rusty old halo, a skinny white cloud, a robe
That’s so wooly it scratches
Some people may have big shiny cars, swimming pools,
Fur coats and diamonds in jars
Real silver gates and real golden doors
They’ll get to heaven and trade them all for…
A rusty old halo, a skinny white cloud, second-hand wings full of patches
A rusty old halo, a skinny white cloud
A robe that’s so wooly it scratches.
So while you’re on earth, shine like a star
Brighten the corner wherever you are
Doing each day the best you can do; that way
You’ll be sure they will never hand you…
A rusty old halo, a skinny white cloud, second-hand wings
Full of patches, a ru
sty old halo, a skinny white cloud, a robe that’s so wooly it scratches…
Pulling the covers snuggly up under his chin, Sherrilyn placed a kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Good night, sweet baby.”
He had fallen asleep by the time she had reached the second chorus, but she kept singing to help warm up her vocal chords for later, and it was one of the songs that her mother used to sing all the time. Pushing aside the twinge of guilt she felt for what she was about to do, she hurried into her bedroom to change into her sleeping shirt and terry cloth shorts.
“Good night, Daddy.” Leaning down she placed a kiss on her father’s whiskered cheek.
“Good night, sweetheart.”
As Sherrilyn turned to go, her father reached out and circled her wrist with his right hand, “Sherry? You do understand why I couldn’t let you go sing tonight, right? I’m only trying to protect you. The right place will open up for you at the right time, and then not only will I let you go -- I will clap for you the loudest. Ok?”
Nodding her head, she smiled. She didn’t trust her voice to speak, for a knot of fear and guilt was lodged in her throat. Turning away, she said a quick prayer for forgiveness…
Tagin watched as Sherrilyn slipped out of her bedroom window an hour later. “Now just what do you think you’re doing?” he asked. He didn’t expect a response for she couldn’t hear him. Humans rarely if ever heard the voice of their guardian angels. The rare times they did, it was in the case of an extreme emergency. He spoke aloud primarily to keep himself in practice. The life of a guardian could be a lonely one. For unlike other classes of angels, they were unable to see or speak to anyone until after their assignment was completed. After thousands of years and nearly that many assignments, he had grown used to it. Frowning, he followed his current assignment as she quickly walked down the driveway and slipped through the white rail fence quiet as a mouse.
“You know this is a bad idea, little girl…Snap out of it and get yourself back inside.” Of course, she didn’t even slow down; if anything, she sped up as she heard a car coming down the gravel road. Ducking down behind the row of barrels they used as trashcans, she waited until the car had passed and the road was empty once more.
“Ok, Susan…where the heck are you?” Sherrilyn whispered. The plan was to sneak out and wait past the row of trashcans where Susan would come pick her up. Finally, she heard the distinct sound of the old Ford pickup that her best friend drove, turning down her road. Not wanting to risk her dad hearing it, she started running toward the flash of headlights.
“Hey! I was going to come get you. No need to run all the way down here.”
Slamming the door shut, Sherrilyn shook her head, “I know, but I was too scared that my dad would hear your truck. You know, you really need a new muffler or something.”
Susan laughed, “Sure, sure, just as soon as I cash in my winning lotto ticket, I will jump right on that.”
Sherrilyn smiled at her friend. They had been BFF’s since first grade and she couldn’t imagine her life without her.
“So, are you stupid excited or what?”
“I don’t know…I’m excited but I’m also really nervous and my tummy hurts.” Laying a hand across her stomach, she willed it to stop churning.
Riding in the back of the truck, Tagin shook his head, “That’s called guilt, little girl…That’s your body telling you to stop and go home!”
“Why don’t you sing something? It will distract you and help you warm up at the same time.”
Laying her head back against the seat, she tried to breathe slowly and deeply to calm her nerves.
Susan reached over and patted her leg, “Hey, you’re going to do just fine! This will be a great story to tell all the tabloids when you get famous. Now what are you going to sing tonight?”
“’Stand by Your Man’ by Tammy Wynette.” Suddenly she sat up, reaching for the door handle, “Stop! Stop! I’m going to throw up!” Susan barely got the truck stopped before Sherrilyn barreled out and emptied her stomach in the ditch.
“Dang, Sherry! Are you okay? You look like death warmed over.”
Susan’s comment upon her return to the truck didn’t help her in the slightest. “Thanks. Do you happen to have a toothbrush?”
Rolling her eyes, Susan didn’t even bother with a reply. She did, however, dig around in her purse and pull out a pack of Big Red gum. “Here, this will work just as good.”
Pulling the silver wrapper off the gum, she quickly jammed the piece of strong cinnamon gum in her mouth.
She knew the main reason for her sudden case of nerves was because she was sneaking out. She was always the good girl, did what she was told and rarely got into trouble. Most of the school thought she was a goody two shoes, but, truth be told, she was a coward. If she didn’t want to do this with every fiber in her being, she would have gone to bed like she was expected to do and forgot all about it, but not this time. This time she would be brave and go after what was so important to her.
“Hey there, little girl, I had almost decided you had changed your mind. Are you ready? You go on in fifteen minutes. I already gave the band your song choice and key. Where is Doug? Isn’t he with you? You did get his permission, right?”
Plastering on a fake megawatt smile, Sherrilyn nodded. “Of course I did! I wouldn’t dare be here otherwise. He just has to work in the morning and didn’t want to be out too late. He said to tell you to watch me real close.” Holding her breath, she waited to see if Earl bought her lie. When he smiled, she nearly sagged in relief.
“Okay, then just make yourself comfortable. I will come get you in just a minute.” Before she knew it, Earl had turned and walked out, leaving her alone with nothing but a still-churning stomach and a heavy heart. She wished Susan could have at least come in to sit with her until she went on stage. But Earl was adamant about it. Clearly, as long as he didn’t need you to fill a spot on stage, he stuck by the law as far as minors in his bar.
Walking over to a chipped and hazy mirror, she inspected her reflection. She looked exactly how she felt…like a scared kid. The black denim skirt, red button up blouse and her black cowboy boots had seemed like a good choice standing in her bedroom; now it looked immature and childish. Reaching up, she pulled out the elastic band that held back her wealth of blonde curls in a high ponytail. Shaking her head, she shook them out until they cascaded down her back, nearly reaching her waist. Frantically she searched her purse for some black eyeliner. Carefully she smudged the sooty pencil under the lower lashes of her eyes and then along the top. Stepping back, she eyed her handiwork. Searching in her purse once more, she found the deep burgundy lip-gloss that Susan had loaned her ages ago. She had never worn it because she didn’t really wear much make up. Her daddy wouldn’t let her put on more than a couple of coats of mascara and sheer pink lip-gloss. Using extreme caution, she dabbed the dark gloss onto her lips then rolled them to ensure even coverage. Hearing footsteps coming up the hall, she quickly tossed her cosmetics back into her bag then turned and faced the door.
“Well! Would you look at that! I left a young kid back here ten minutes ago…Have you seen her?” Sherrilyn laughed at Earl’s reaction. He reached out, slipping a finger through one of the curls that was lying on her shoulder. “You look real pretty… Are you ready to go show them what you got?”
Taking a deep breath, she looked up. “Yes, I am.”
“Ok, everyone listen up! I have an extra special treat for you tonight. This young lady has a voice that will steal your heart, so give her a nice big hand! Sherrilyn Lane!”
The sound of applause seemed distant somehow like she was underwater. The lights were so hot they made beads of sweat pop out on her forehead. Putting one foot in front of the other, she managed to make it across the stage to where the microphone stood in the middle of the stage waiting for her. Faces…a seemingly endless sea of strange faces all looked up at her with expectation. Did they think she was too young? Was she too young? What was she doing? The sound of
the steel guitar cut through her panic as it played the all-too-familiar opening notes. As if a switch had been thrown, she lost all her fear. She knew this… This song was like an old friend beckoning her. Stepping up to the microphone, she sang the opening line… “Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman…”
An hour later Earl stood back stage and stared at her with a perplexed look on his face. “Where on earth did you learn to sing like that?” Then he raised his hand, “No…don’t answer that. An ability like that isn’t taught…it’s God-given and let me tell you, sweetheart, you have been blessed. Are you sure that’s the first time you have ever stood on stage?”
Setting aside the can of Dr. Pepper that she had been chugging on, she nodded. “Yes, sir, except for singing in church. But that’s not really a stage, is it?”
Earl shook his head, “No, not like the one you just owned. I won’t lie. I was a little bit worried that they might chew you up and spit you out, but I’m not worried anymore. There isn’t but one thing that concerns me now. Do you know what that is?” he asked. “I’m worried that I won’t ever get you back out there. They might boycott me. Please tell me that you will come back?”
Three months later found Sherrilyn once more looking into the chipped and hazy mirror back stage. The once frightened blue eyes now looked back at her calm, cool and collected. She had found her peace, her sanctuary. The stage now opened its arms to her and she went into them with passion. The fact that her father still didn’t know where she went every Saturday night nagged heavily at the back of her mind. But she shoved it aside. “Tomorrow I will tell him everything. I will make him understand.” She made this same promise to herself every time. But the courage she felt so easily on stage fled when she stood before her father.
