by Laura Briggs
Libby could feel his fingers holding hers, caressing them softly. She opened her eyes to the white sheets of the hospital bed, the tiny Christmas tree bathed in the pale light of dawn illuminating the window. To the tangible reality of Jake watching her, his head resting on his arm as he leaned against her bed.
“You’re awake,” he said. “They said you had a little adventure earlier tonight. You tried to get out of bed and collapsed in the hallway.” His hand moved to touch the bandage across her forehead.
“How did you find me?” Her voice rasped with the emerging words, traces of surprise evident as she stared at his face.
“They called me,” he answered, softly. “Found my number in your wallet. They didn’t know anyone else to contact.” His fingers continued tracing hers as he spoke.
The moment in the chapel was a dream, she knew, yet the gentleness in his expression was the same as the face in her mind, the same dark eyes studying her with the same concern.
“How long have you been here?” she asked. “Did they…did they tell you what happened?” It hurt to talk. Her throat was dry and her lips were cracked from the cold. She dreaded his response, since she knew the alcohol in her bloodstream was nothing new to him.
“You struck an icy patch and plowed into a tree,” he said. “Four hours in the cold. You could’ve died, if another motorist hadn’t passed by and reported it. As for me”—he grinned—”I’ve been here since they got you back to bed. Which was about an hour after Christmas began.”
Libby’s eyes widened. “So you were here,” she said. “All that time. When I was...when I was dreaming.” Her voice grew faint as she hesitated to mention what she’d been dreaming about. She was ashamed to have him think she was fantasizing about something that would never happen after all her mistakes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You shouldn’t be here. You should be with Will, not with someone in this mess.” Her hands began to tremble again, even as his fingers wrapped themselves more tightly around them.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Told you I’d spend Christmas with you if you were willing.”
At the sound of these words, she couldn’t help letting a laugh escape. “It’s not fair to you,” she said. “Not fair to Will. For his father to be sitting in a hospital for Christmas.”
“He doesn’t mind,” said Jake. “He was concerned about you. He would want me here right now.”
“Even if he knew I was going to fire you?” she asked. “After Christmas. The whole band.” Her voice shook as she spoke the truth aloud. “Would he want me to see you then?”
In Jake’s eyes, she saw a flicker of concern. “Why?” he asked, after a moment. There was no anger in his voice, just confusion.
“Because they offered me a contract in Nashville. You were right, Jake. That’s part of why I left. I lied to you before.” Her voice choked off. She withdrew her hand from his as she spoke, aware that these words would probably create distance between them. If there was a moment in her life in which she needed God’s strength, this was it. Strength to get past the pain she was inflicting on another.
His face softened. “That the only reason?” he asked, searching her eyes with a glance that could detect a lie.
“No,” she said, looking down as she spoke. “When I was younger,” she said. “I had a son. I gave him up for adoption because I couldn’t take care of him, and his father didn’t want him. Didn’t want us. Tonight I wanted to go see him again. Just to...just to see him.” Her eyes blurred with tears. “That’s why I kept Will away. It was so hard to see him, knowing what I couldn’t have.”
Libby’s eyes searched his face for signs of condemnation with these words. She deserved it, given the way she had treated him to protect the secret. “Tell him I’m sorry…for telling him to stay away. I want him to know that.”
“Thank you,” Jake said, softly, “for telling me.” He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her forehead. “That’s what I’ve wanted to hear the past few years, Libby. Something real from you. Not just an excuse.”
The painful memories floated to the surface, all the occasions in which she chose a bottle over telling him what was on her mind.
“I love you,” she said, surprised by the statement, by the tangible emotion that emerged from beneath her hoarse tones. “I really do.” Her fingers reached up to the wipe the tears escaping from her eyes in her shame and confusion.
A half-smile appeared on Jake’s face. “I’m glad,” he said. “I love you, too, Libby Taylor.” His lips moved closer, her skin tingling in anticipation of another kiss against its surface. Instead, his lips touched hers in a soft kiss. As he withdrew, his eyes met hers with a flicker of curiosity and longing.
Her own must have been filled with surprise. Her heart was fluttering within her chest like a bird reaching for freedom through cage bars.
“I, uh, got them to bend the rules a little to let me stay,” he said, “but I had to ask another favor, too.” He offered her a brief grin of apology. “There’s somebody here who’s been waiting to see you for Christmas.”
****
Will bounded through the door as soon as Jake returned, a pair of patched jeans and oversized boots giving proof that he had dressed in a hurry. In his arms, he carried a Christmas gift which he set on the bed beside her. Shyly, he moved beside her.
“Hi, Libby,” he said. “Dad says you were in an accident last night.”
He was taller than she realized, as he sat down in the chair beside the bed. His boyish face reminded her of her son playing in his yard, the neckline of his pajamas visible beneath the oversized parka. Raising her hand, she let her fingers rumple his hair.
“Merry Christmas, Will,” she said. “Shouldn’t you be unwrapping your presents right now? Instead of here visiting me?”
“But we brought you one,” said Will. “Dad picked it out, but he let me put my name on the tag so it’d be from both of us. Sort of.” He pushed the box closer to her.
She looked at Jake, who shrugged his shoulders.
“Open it,” he said, with no hint of what might be inside.
Her fingers tugged the ribbon then tore a corner of the paper, working slowly under the stiffening effects of her night in the cold.
The box slid free, its lid popping open beneath her hand. Her woozy gaze focused on the tissue paper inside, bright shades of red and green hiding the item beneath. As she pulled them aside, she lifted a single record from beneath. A paper sleeve from 1955, a printed drawing in blue ink of a woman in a lacy dress before a microphone. An original radio single of “Midnight Madness.”
“I wanted to get you one of Tina Wiley’s at the record store,” said Will. “But Dad said you liked Patty Craye the best.”
Libby smiled softly. “He’s right.” She leaned down and kissed Will’s forehead, seeing a look of embarrassment and pleasure on his face in response.
“Turn it over.” Taking the record from her fingers, he flipped it to the back, showing her the words scribbled across the paper sleeve.
“It’s signed,” he said. “The guy at the record store says it’s her real autograph.”
Libby traced the signature with her finger, the faded curves of the pen on paper. The rounded ‘P’ of Patty’s name, the sloping ‘C’ that precede the rest of the name dropping into an unintelligible scrawl.
“It’s one of the nicest presents I’ve ever gotten,” she said. “Thank you both.” Her gaze flickered from Will to Jake, who was watching them with a tender smile on his face. To her, that was the greatest Christmas gift of all.
23
Two days later, Libby packed Will’s present in her duffel bag, careful to protect the autographed sleeve bearing Patty Craye’s name. The drawing on the front seemed familiar, as if it were a picture of an old friend instead of her childhood hero.
Outside the hospital window, snow was falling again. Libby shivered at the thought of the cold, the shattered glass at the point of impact in the windshiel
d, the hours of pain and frigid temperatures as she lay waiting for help.
Had God saved her for a purpose? She hoped so, although she had no idea what that purpose might be. An artist whose voice had only a few years left, whose dreams seemed a waste of time. The contract in Nashville might wait for her, but everything else was probably beyond her reach. She could only be grateful that she had the chance to say goodbye to the people whose love she rejected before.
Most of her savings were gone now, thanks to the accident. The rest would disappear in the citation for reckless driving, thanks to the twin chasers she sampled at the bar. The stars visible on the horizon as Nathaniel and his family went inside to dinner, the Christmas lights winking above the bar—the images flooded back to her mind as she folded the torn shirt from the night of the accident, a little blood visible on its collar.
A knock on the door made her turn her head.
Jake stood there, watching her pack. “Hey,” he said. “Looks like you’re getting released.”
“Yeah,” she answered, “I am.” She felt shy before him, tucking her hair nervously aside. The bandage on her forehead felt bulky beneath its waves.
“Where will you go?” he asked.
She turned towards her bag again. “I don’t know yet,” She tried to sound casual. “I thought about calling my parents. Maybe going back to see them for a while. After that, I don’t know.”
Shoving a toothbrush into her bag, she paused before adding, “I talked to the rest of the band. They think they’d rather move on, try something new. I offered to let them have the name, but...they weren’t interested since I’m leaving the road.”
“I thought you’d go to Nashville,” he said. “Your big chance is here now. All those years on the road paid off.”
“I don’t want it anymore.” Her voice faltered as she spoke. “I made so many mistakes to get it, it doesn’t seem worth it anymore. I want to do something that matters now.”
He was quiet in response.
She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see an empty doorway.
But Jake was still standing there.
“I want to thank you,” she said. “You always told me the truth. Even when I didn’t want to hear it. That’s probably what saved me, you know.”
“What you said the other day about your feelings, did you mean it, Libby?”
She couldn’t answer, except to nod. Her voice was trapped beneath a lump in her throat, forcing her to look towards her luggage again to hide her tears.
“Don’t go,” he said. “Me and Will—we want you to stay here. To be part of our family. You know what I mean.”
“I ruined my life. Look at me. My reputation isn’t worth anything. All the wasted hours spent drinking, the way I drove away my family. I even lost my son.” She shook her head. “I can’t drop those burdens on you two.” A laugh emerged, mixed with sadness. “Nobody but God should have to put up with them.”
“But we want you to stay.” Jake leaned closer. “Please, Libby. Don’t say no this time. I promise, it doesn’t matter what happened in the past. Just what we do together from now on.” His fingers reached for hers, drawing them into his hand.
She felt the closeness of his body, the warmth of him standing mere inches away. Without turning her head, she knew there was gentleness in his eyes, along with something more. An emotion she had seen buried in their depths more than once in the last few years.
“What do you say, Libby?” he whispered. “Don’t give up on your dreams just yet.”
Reaching for her bag, he hoisted it over his shoulder and carried it from the room, forcing her to follow.
Outside the hospital, Jake’s battered truck took up two spaces in the parking lot. The camping trailer was hitched to the back, still strung with Christmas lights and cheap decorations. From inside the pickup’s cab, Will waved to her.
“You need a ride to wherever you’re going,” said Jake. “So I thought we’d volunteer.” Crossing to the truck bed, he hoisted her bag into the back, where the rest of the luggage from her car was visible.
He opened the door for her. “Where to?” he asked. “Nashville? Kentucky? You name it.”
She hesitated, but the look on his face was something she couldn’t refuse. Deep inside, she knew she didn’t want to push him away ever again. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to help her into the passenger seat beside Will.
Maybe this was the beginning of her new future, the new plans God had in mind for her life.
“Home,” she answered. She smiled at Jake as he climbed in beside her. “I think I’m ready to go home now.”
“Just point me in the right direction,” he answered. The engine roared to life as he turned the key, the old radio speakers popping with static. A classic country song rose above the waves of interference, the sound of Tina Wiley’s twangy voice.
“Don’t take my heart for granted, don’t think I will be kind...”
“Hey, Dad, turn it up,” said Will. “That’s one of my favorites. Me and Libby’s, I mean,” he added, shyly. “Right, Libby?”
“I can’t keep on forgettin’, while your love is on my mind...” sang Tina, her wiry voice rising and falling in the static.
Reaching over, Libby gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Right,” she answered. Closing her eyes to the sound of Tina’s voice, Libby breathed a silent prayer of thanks to her Heavenly Father. A prayer of gratitude for the Christmases past that made this holiday a season of new beginnings.
Epilogue
The red plastic record spun beneath the needle, playing “Twinkle Little Star,” a familiar scratchy recording that lasted only a few minutes. As the song reached its end, a little girl’s hand lifted it from the player and reached for a blue one from the nearby stack.
“Not now, Lissy.” Libby lifted the little girl from her pile of toys onto the sofa beside her. “We don’t have time for another one. We’ve got to go. Tonight’s the Christmas Eve Benefit Concert, remember ?”
“Will you sing my favorite song, Mama?” the little girl asked as Libby pulled a jacket over the checkered gingham play dress.
“What’s that one?” Libby adjusted a knitted cap over two curly black braids, a combination of her own dark hair and Jake’s unruly style.
“Silent Night,” said Lissy, giggling. “Please, Mama?”
“Sure we can. Just ask your Dad before it starts.” She glanced towards Jake, who was hoisting an electric guitar case and amplifier towards the door of their travel trailer. Despite the cold weather, crowds turned out for the combined concert of Christian and country performers, the ticket proceeds donated to the local homeless shelter.
“I’ll remember,” Jake said. Leaning down, he kissed Lissy’s cheek, a gold band visible on his fingers as he flicked the ends of his daughter’s curly braids.
“Will, are you ready?” Libby called, reaching for her coat draped over the table where a nativity and a mini Christmas tree served as decoration, its tiny branches festooned with handmade childish ornaments in colored paper shapes and painted macaroni.
A few moments later, the tall, teenage boy emerged from the next room carrying a guitar case.
“Yeah, Libby,” he answered. “I got your guitar and something to keep Lissy here amused later.” He held up a Barbie travel case in pink plastic.
“I’m not a baby. I don’t need amused!” his sister retorted as she toddled towards him, taking the case herself.
Glancing in the mirror next to the door, Libby studied her reflection for a moment, the dark hair pinned back from her face. The images reflected from the pictures behind her peeked over her shoulder, a newer photo of her parents, a photograph from the Hammonds featuring Nathaniel in his basketball uniform. A shot of her and Jake moments after they exchanged vows, a picture of Libby cradling her daughter for the first time.
“Ready?” Jake was beside her, his arm around her shoulder. She watched as Will hoisted his little sister for a piggyback ride, her little face grinnin
g at him as he carried her towards the door.
“Yes,” she answered, “We don’t want to be the last performers to arrive, do we?” She took his hand as they followed their son and daughter down the camping trailer’s steps, the door swinging closed behind them. Its breeze fluttered the torn corner on Tina Wiley’s wall poster, the faded covers for Alecia and Patty Craye’s records pinned beside the family photos on the wall.
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May God’s glory shine through
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