Wedding Song

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “You came in a beat too soon,” Tom said.

  “I’m sorry.” Kerry rubbed her temples. “I’m sure everyone’s as sick of this as I am.”

  “Maybe we need a break,” Tom suggested. “And some food. I’ll call the deli.”

  The thought of food made Kerry’s stomach heave. “You guys go ahead and eat. I’ll just have coffee.”

  Paul stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Let’s all walk down there, get some of the stink blown off us. Come on, Kerry. The fresh air’ll do you good.”

  Joe laughed. “What Paul is saying is that we’ll come back high on carbon-monoxide fumes and we’ll play better.”

  “Thanks for the offer.” Kerry forced a smile. “I’d rather stay here and go over the song a few times by myself.”

  “Listen to Uncle Paulie,” Paul warned, wagging a finger at her. “You’ll get stale. Come with us. Maybe we’ll have a beer.”

  “No, thanks. Really, I’d rather stay.”

  Joe struck a pose. “Then I must go, despite the pain,” he sang, clutching his chest. “If Fate is kind, we’ll meet again.”

  Woody pushed him toward the door. “If fate is kind you’ll choke on a liverwurst sandwich and we’ll be able to hire another drummer for this number.” He turned back toward Kerry as everyone filed out. “These creeps don’t understand an artist needs solitude to create. We’ll leave you alone for a half hour, at least.”

  “Thanks.” She stayed in front of the mike until everyone was gone. Then she wandered around the studio. The song was good. Despite her frustration with the recording sessions the past two days, she still believed in its power. But somehow it wasn’t transplanting well from a live performance to the hothouse atmosphere of the studio. She wasn’t singing it very well, and maybe that was why Tom kept giving it too much of everything—rhythm, echo, vibrato.

  She thought of Judd’s remark that first day they’d met, when he’d said that love ties could interfere with a budding artist’s work. Maybe for some that happened, but for her losing Judd had destroyed her drive. She’d managed last night’s performance at the Besotted Fox by tricking herself into believing that a man sitting in the back of the room was Judd. It wasn’t, of course, but she’d held on to the fantasy long enough to get through two sets.

  But here at the studio she felt his absence like a black hole in her universe. He’d promised her she would forget him in the avalanche of fame soon to come her way. She only needed to get past this first crushing emptiness. She didn’t believe him. She wanted him here, now—laughing with her, kissing her, making love to her, bringing out the best she had to give.

  A movement in the control booth caught her eye and she glanced up and blinked. Then she shaded her eyes and peered into the dim interior of the booth. Her heartbeat picked up speed. He was there, dressed in a sport shirt and slacks, gazing at her. She feasted on the sight of his topaz eyes, his half smile. Maybe she wanted him so much she’d conjured him up.

  Then his voice, darkly resonant, came over the intercom. “I met Tom on the way in. He said you’ve all been struggling.”

  “It’s me,” she said, her throat tight. “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can.”

  “But—”

  “Put on your headset. Let’s try it without the instruments.”

  “You’re going to record it?”

  He gave her a wry smile. “I’m not as good as Billy, but let’s try, anyway.”

  “All right.” Adrenaline pumped through her. She had no idea whether she’d be able to control the quality of her voice. But he was still the boss. And it might be her last chance to sing for him. He’d once asked if she could give him passion. Passion he would get.

  He sat down and fiddled with the settings on the console. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “On my signal, then.” He held up his hand and closed it into a fist.

  She began, and as she sang, the song became a plea. “Shine for me through tempest’s wrath, shine for me through blackest night. Show to me the gilded path, and I’ll return, beloved light.” He was sacrificing what they might have for his daughter’s sake, but Rachel would grow up. And Kerry would never stop loving him. At last she admitted to herself the name of the emotion that rocked her each time she thought of him. She loved him, and would go on loving him no matter what happened to her. Fame wouldn’t dim her feelings, nor would the long days on the road or the hours spent in a studio.

  “But when my soul has drunk its fill, when the tide has lost its pull, then, my love, I’ll turn for shore, safe in your arms forevermore.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gave him the music from her soul. Would he hear the promise she made, and would he believe it?

  As she finished, his eyes burned into hers, and for a moment she thought he did believe. Then the light fled from his gaze. “Good,” he said, a brusque tone covering what might have been a quiver in his voice.

  “Judd, I—”

  “You can expect a contract in the mail by the end of the week, along with a copy of this tape. I plan to send you on tour with Saucy Sisters. That means you’ll have to be in New York by the first of September, so Tom will have time to pull together a set of more folk tunes and Erica can put some thought into costuming. Can you be here by then?”

  She swallowed and brushed at her damp cheeks with the backs of her hands. Her dreams were coming true. She’d done exactly what she’d set out to do. So why did she feel as if she were dying? “Of course,” she said. “I’ll be here.”

  15

  THE CONTRACT APPEARED in Kerry’s mailbox Friday afternoon. The cover letter came from the contracts department, so she didn’t even have the small comfort of Judd’s signature at the bottom of the letter. Included with the contract was a tape of “The Beacon.”

  She glanced at the grandfather clock in the hall and made a call to Geoffrey Kent’s office. He sounded ready and eager to evaluate the contract for her. She’d have just enough time to run it over and get his opinion before Rachel arrived for her piano lesson.

  Geoff greeted her with a smile and a hug. “Big day, huh?”

  “I guess it is.”

  He looked at her more closely. “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

  “No,” she said quickly. “But the changes I’m facing are finally sinking in. I’ve lived here all my life, after all.”

  Geoff nodded. “I understand. But New York’s not as far as, say, California, for example.”

  “Maybe, but when I’m there, I feel a million miles away.”

  He gave her a sympathetic look. Then he shrugged. “Ah, you’ll get over that sooner than you think. You’re destined for stardom, Kerry. Not everyone gets a chance at that.”

  “That’s true. I’m pretty lucky.”

  “And very talented. Have a seat while I take a look at that contract and see if Lighthouse realizes the quality of what they’re buying.”

  Kerry handed Geoff the manila envelope and sat down while he returned to his desk chair and read through the terms.

  Finally he glanced up. “Looks more than fair. I knew this day was coming, so I contacted a couple of colleagues who do more of this sort of work than I do. They told me what to look out for, and none of the dangerous clauses are in this.” He returned the contract to its envelope and shoved it across the desk toward Kerry. “I’d say it’s safe to sign it.”

  “Thanks, Geoff. If you’ll send me a bill, I’ll—”

  “Absolutely not. This one’s on the house. After you start making some of that money they’re promising you and you run into legal hassles, then we’ll discuss fees. But not today. I’m honored you came to me for advice.”

  Kerry’s eyes unexpectedly filled. “That’s what I mean about leaving,” she said, blinking back the tears. “Everyone has been so wonderful. Big cities just aren’t like that, and I’m really going to miss…everything.”

  “Then you’ll have to make lots of trips back here,” Geoff said g
ently. “But don’t let a little homesickness cheat you out of the chance of a lifetime.”

  “That would be pretty stupid, wouldn’t it?” Kerry stood and held out her hand. “Thanks, and say hi to Marion for me.”

  She left Geoff’s office and hurried home. Now that she knew the contract was okay she was anxious to listen to the tape. She might be able to manage that before Rachel arrived.

  Back in her familiar music room she pushed the Power button on her compact stereo and inserted the tape. She had no idea how she’d sound, considering the emotions she’d felt as she sang it for Judd in the studio, but at least she’d sung the song with passion. Nobody could accuse her of lacking that.

  When the tape began with synthesizer music, she frowned. Tom and Billy must have overdubbed the instrumental, although she’d thought from Judd’s comment that the tape would stand without it. The synthesizer was too schmaltzy for her taste, but Tom must have known what he was doing.

  With the first words of the song, however, she wondered if Tom had a clue. Her voice had an echo and vibrato that hadn’t been there when she recorded the song for Judd. What had they done to her voice?

  The tape got worse. Strange rhythms appeared, and a disembodied voice chanted, “Come ba-ack, come ba-ack.” Kerry stared at the tape deck in consternation. She’d sung an unadulterated version of the song, but it hadn’t stayed that way. She’d planned to play the tape when the Honeymooners rehearsed tonight for a wedding reception scheduled tomorrow. They’d begged her to sing the song for them, but she’d held off, believing the tape she’d made for Judd was better than anything she could do again. But it was ruined. She wouldn’t play this for anyone.

  She rewound the tape and played it again, wondering if she’d overreacted. The second time through was even worse. She felt as if something sacred to her had been violated. If this was the way Lighthouse Records wanted the song to sound, wanted her to sound, for that matter, she had some serious thinking to do.

  The past four days had been hectic, which had helped her stave off thoughts of Judd. Once she’d told her mother, Aunt June and the band members about the forthcoming contract, word had spread through Eternity with supersonic speed. Her afternoon piano students treated her with such awe they made her chuckle, and a choir rehearsal at the First Congregational church Thursday night had turned into a farce as Louis Bertrand kept rolling an imaginary red carpet around in front of her all night.

  But this afternoon, when she gave Rachel her piano lesson, memories of Judd came crashing back. As Kerry put the contract and tape into a desk drawer, she thought what a good thing it was that she and Rachel had formed a relationship before Kerry had even met Judd. That early friendship would prevent Kerry from viewing Rachel simply as an obstacle to her happiness.

  Rachel arrived promptly at three, as she had all summer. Kerry opened the door, expecting Rachel to burst into the house as usual, full of excitement. She of all people should be proud of Kerry’s new career, since her father was the one making it possible. But, instead of smiles and laughter, Rachel gave her only silence and a grim expression. Kerry recognized that expression. She’d seen it most recently on Judd.

  Kerry’s first thought made her heart hammer. Somehow Rachel had found out that Kerry and Judd had been lovers in New York. But Rachel couldn’t know that unless Judd had told her, and telling his daughter such a thing wouldn’t make any sense.

  Rachel plopped down on the piano bench and stared at the grand piano’s keys as if she’d never seen them before.

  “Have you had much chance to practice this week?” Kerry sat in the Queen Anne chair positioned to the right of the keyboard, a lesson-plan book in her lap.

  Rachel shook her head.

  “I guess you heard the news about my contract.”

  Rachel glanced up and attempted a smile. “Yeah. That’s great, Kerry.”

  Kerry had never seen the girl so down. Even her skin seemed to have lost some of its color, and the freckles across her nose stood out more prominently. Her sun-bleached hair was woven into an intricate French braid. Normally it would be coming loose by this time of day, but the braid looked perfect.

  “Shall we start with some scales?” Kerry was almost afraid to ask Rachel what was wrong for fear that somehow Judd had let something slip. Maybe he’d inadvertently mentioned that Kerry had stayed in the apartment with him. That might trouble someone Rachel’s age.

  Rachel obediently began the measured stair-climbing rhythm of the scales. Usually she complained about doing them and pulled grotesque faces that made Kerry laugh. Today Rachel played her scales like a trained monkey, without any expression on her face.

  Finally Kerry couldn’t stand another minute of the tension. “Something is terribly wrong, Rachel.”

  The girl stopped playing and looked at her. “Did I miss a note? I thought I played them all.”

  “You played perfectly. I only meant that you seem very depressed today. I’ve never seen you look so gloomy.”

  Rachel mumbled something unintelligible.

  “Excuse me? I couldn’t hear you.”

  She raised her voice. “I said my dad doesn’t want me.”

  “What?” Kerry made a grab for the lesson-plan book that had slipped from her lifeless fingers. “Rachel, that can’t be right!”

  “Then why is he making me live with Grandpa and Grandma from now on?”

  Kerry clutched the lesson book to her chest. “He is?”

  Rachel nodded. “He was here Sunday and he told me about it. He just said, ‘Well, punkin, I think you’d be better off staying down here and going to school, don’t you?’”

  A wave of hot anger washed over Kerry. So he couldn’t make a commitment because of his daughter? Wasn’t that the line he’d handed her Friday night? “And what did you say?”

  “I started to say no, and then Grandma said we’d have so much fun, and she hugged me. I looked at my dad, trying to tell what he was thinking, and his eyes looked kind of stony, you know?”

  “Yes.” Did she ever.

  “So then I thought he wanted to get rid of me. You know I’m not really his daughter. I’m adopted.”

  “You are so his daughter!” Kerry moved to the piano bench and put both arms around the girl. “He loves you more than anything, Rachel.”

  “Then why wouldn’t he want me to stay in New York with him?” Her young voice was beginning to crack from the effort not to cry. “I know he has a lot of work to do, but I can be really quiet when I have to. This summer was okay, except I missed him a lot, but I kept thinking we’d be back in New York soon, and he’d be able to give me a good-night hug again, and sing me those songs he played when he was in a band, and have paper airplane contests, and…and…” Rachel lost the fight and began to cry.

  “Oh, Rachel.” Kerry held her close and rocked back and forth. “I really don’t understand. This is crazy.” Her tone was soothing, but underneath she was boiling with rage. How dared he? Within two days of telling Kerry that Rachel required all his free time, he’d pawned her off on her grandparents. He couldn’t have done it to pave the way for his relationship with Kerry, because he would have contacted her by now. Besides, she never would have approved such a move, even if it meant she and Judd could be together.

  Had she so completely misread him? Was he a sexual opportunist who bedded hopeful young artists on their way to the top and discarded them before things got too sticky? Had she given her heart to a complete louse?

  Kerry couldn’t believe it, but the evidence didn’t look good. She couldn’t voice her opinions to Rachel, who needed to believe in a noble, kind father, even if he wasn’t acting that way. As she rocked the sobbing little girl, she knew one thing—Judd had made a horrible mess of his dealings with two people he’d claimed to care for. That alone was enough to make her want to have him keelhauled.

  Rachel’s sobs softened to jerky whimpers, and Kerry reached into her pocket for a tissue. “I don’t think we’ll be having a piano lesson today,”
she said, handing Rachel the tissue. “But I have a better idea, something I like to do when I’m upset.”

  “Wh-what’s that?” Rachel blew her nose vigorously.

  “My family has a little sailboat. Taking it out always seems to blow my troubles away. Want to come sailing with me?”

  Rachel hesitated for only a moment. “Sure,” she said, with a firm nod of her head. She blew her nose again and handed the tissue to Kerry. Kerry suppressed a smile and tucked the soggy tissue into her pocket. That was one reason she loved her young piano students. They hadn’t mastered all the social niceties yet, which made them all the more endearing. Signing the contract upstairs would end her teaching days forever, she suddenly realized with an unwelcome pang of regret.

  She stood. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll change into shorts. Maybe you should call your grandparents and tell them where we’ll be.”

  “They might not be there. I think they were going out clamming for a while.”

  “Then just leave a message on their answering machine. We’ll be back before five.”

  “Can I have a doughnut before we leave?”

  Kerry smiled. Rachel was recovering if she could think about doughnuts. “We’ll each take one and eat it on the way.”

  Moments later they turned onto Wharf Street, biting into the soft doughnuts and licking sugar and cinnamon from their fingers.

  “Kerry!”

  She turned and saw Brent Powell emerging from the restaurant. “Has the contract come yet?” he called.

  “Just got it today,” Kerry called back.

  “And the tape?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Great. Let me know when I can hear it.”

  Never, Kerry thought. Some accident would have to befall that tape. Maybe she’d spill coffee on it.

  “What tape is he talking about?” Rachel asked, skipping along next to her.

  “One I made in New York. It’s not that good, to tell you the truth.”

  “I bet you’re just saying that. I bet it’s wonderful, just like everything you sing. And Lighthouse does very nice work.”