"I'm sorry for my behavior last night," I said sincerely. "I feel like I might have ruined whatever you came here to say to me, and I'm really sorry for that. I really am. I wish I could take everything back. I didn't expect you to show up here, and I think I panicked. I could have handled that a lot better. I guess I was just embarrassed—probably scared, too. I'm really sorry."
Michael turned so that he could take me into his arms. He held me tightly, hugging my head to his chest. "I'm sorry too," he said.
I could hear his deep voice reverberating in his chest, and it made me feel like I wanted to cry. I guess maybe I wanted to cry in general. You'd think I'd be all cried-out after last night and just now in the shower, but I wasn't. I had so desperately wanted to be in his arms for the past year that there was nothing I could do to hold back tears of relief. A few of them silently streamed down my cheek.
"I don't like how I acted last night," I said, blinking to clear my eyes. "I'm embarrassed, and I'm so happy you're still here after that."
"I knew you didn't mean all that stuff you were saying," he said, holding me close. "It still stung a little, but I knew you didn't mean it."
"I don't know why I did it. I knew I wanted you to stay. I knew all the things I was saying were wrong, but I just kept saying them. I really wish I hadn't been drinking when you came here."
For whatever reason, it was really hard for me to say that last part. It was difficult for me to admit that drinking had anything to do with it, but the fact of the matter was that it did.
"Have you been drinking a lot?" Michael asked.
I was quiet and still for a few seconds before nodded. "Probably so. It's kind of part of the atmosphere at work."
"If you make it that way," he said reasonably.
"Yeah, I guess," I admitted.
I had a whole sequence of thoughts about my alcohol and drug use during in the past year. None of my choices felt wrong at the time, but looking back on them I knew I could've chosen a better path—one that would have made me proud to be seeing Michael right now rather than ashamed.
"I should have been a better person," I said.
"It looks like you're not doing too bad for yourself," he said. "You have a nice place here."
"Thank you," I said.
He sat there, holding me for a few long seconds while I thought of what to say next.
"How's your motorcycle shop going?" I asked.
"Good. Same as your career, I guess. Working all the time."
"Smiling all the time, but hardly happy," I added.
"Yep."
I lifted my head from his chest and pulled back to stare at him. "Are you agreeing to that?" I asked.
"Agreeing to what?"
"To being hardly happy," I said. "Did you say you were hardly happy, too?"
His mouth lifted upward just slightly in the hint of a smile and he nodded.
"Why are you hardly happy?" I asked, squeezing him as I waited anxiously for his answer.
"Because my girl's been gone from me, Ivy."
"You mean me?" I asked. I felt all tingly at the sound of being called his girl.
He tugged me, pulling me closer. I was almost sitting on his lap. "Ivy, it killed me to let you go."
I stared straight at him, thinking he would say something more, but he didn't.
"Why did you do it?" I whispered.
"Because someone came to me with a threat," he said.
"My dad?" I asked, hoping against hope that it wasn't the truth.
"No, not your dad."
"Who was it?" I asked.
"It doesn't matter. Looking back, it should have never happened. I thought I was making the right choice, the choice that was best for you, but now I know I was wrong."
"You were definitely wrong if you broke up with me for my sake," I said. "My sake wanted to be with you. My sake only wants to be with you." I leaned in, resting my head on his chest again. He held me tightly, and I took a deep breath.
"I've never for a second stopped loving you, Ivy."
I left my face resting against his chest, but I lifted my hand, letting my fingertips gently explore his jaw and the side of his face. He used to always be clean-shaven, but he had some short facial hair lining his jaw, and I let my fingers roam over it.
"Are you saying you still love me now?" I asked.
I felt so nervous and vulnerable that the words came out too softly.
"What?" he asked.
"You said you never stopped loving me, and I wondered if that includes now. I wonder if you still love me now, today, after I was such a terrible person last night."
"I love you so much, Ivy."
"Do you forgive me for last night?"
"I would forgive you for a thousand last-nights."
"You won't have to," I said. I cozied up next to him, tucking my head into the crook of his neck.
"Was it Stephen's dad?" I asked after a minute or two of comfortable silence. "The one who threatened you?"
"How'd you figure?"
I knew by his question that I was correct. Otherwise he would have just denied it. "Because Stephen came up here a few months ago and told me he was planning on asking me to marry him. He wanted to make sure I was prepared to say 'yes'."
"What did you tell him?" Michael asked.
"I didn't even really take him seriously," I said, remembering how it all went down. "He drove all the way over here for one of my shows, and I didn't think it'd be nice to ignore him, so I told him he could come by here afterward. I had a bunch of people over. He told me he had come to propose, and that was so far from my mind that I actually laughed at him like I thought he was joking. He went home right after that. He could see I had my own life and I wasn't the same girl who would humor him the way I used to do when we were younger." I paused and shrugged. "That was a few months ago, and Mom mentioned yesterday when she was here that he just got engaged to Loretta Collins, so I guess he wasn't too beat up about it."
"Well, I don't plan on moving on so easily," Michael said.
"You don't?" I asked, feeling happy and hopeful.
"Nope."
"It's a good thing I have no intention of refusing you," I said. I cringed inwardly, remembering how I pleaded with him to leave the night before. "Thank you for not giving up on me last night. Thank you for staying."
Michael rubbed my head as a way of telling me he wouldn't think of leaving. "Your brother came to see me yesterday," he said. "He's such a good kid. So smart."
"I know he is. He told me when he left the other day that he was gonna fix everything." I shook my head. "I didn't know he would actually do it."
"I'm glad you feel better," he said.
"Me too."
He patted my arm. "Speaking of things that will make you feel better… let's get up, and I'll make you some breakfast."
Chapter 18
A few months later
I wished I had done things differently.
I wished I had stayed strong and stayed focused on God even when my circumstances weren't going the way I thought they should. But you know what? I didn't. I messed up. I focused on the wrong things, and I wasted time. Period.
I couldn't go back and change what was already done, so I had no choice but to start over.
I sought God and found that He was not only there for me in my brokenness, but He also didn't judge me for it. I had learned valuable lessons from the time I wasted, but I felt no condemnation about it. I felt only forgiveness, and patience, and new beginnings. I truly knew in my heart that God would use my choices (even the poor ones) for some kind of good that I might not even know about yet.
In my repentance, I had a supernatural assurance that God did not hold grudges—I truly knew I had been forgiven and washed clean, and it was a beautiful thing.
I felt thankfulness right down to my bones.
***
I sat at a piano, looking out at a crowd.
I was performing at the largest fair in Memphis—it was a gig I h
ad scheduled before I even knew I was moving home.
It was early fall of '66, and I had only been officially back in Memphis for a few weeks. It had taken me the rest of the summer to tie up my loose ends in Nashville and make scheduling adjustments for my move.
So, there I was, in my hometown, performing soul music for at least a thousand fans. They had given me an extremely warm reception and had been singing, swaying, and dancing the whole time.
I had reconnected with God and gotten closer to Him in the last few months, but I hadn't yet let my love for soul music intersect with that world. I wondered if tonight might be the night.
I stared out at the crowd, feeling like I wanted to share with them that grateful feeling I had. So, instead of performing Dancing in the Street to finish the set like I had planned, I turned around and told the band I was taking this one on my own.
I proceeded to sing and play Amazing Grace like nobody but God was watching.
My hands and voice went to work in a display of gratitude to my Maker—my King and Savior—my Mighty Redeemer.
I had never before used my soulful approach to music to sing to God (at least not for an audience), and I had no idea how they would respond.
I had my eyes closed when I played the last note, and I didn’t hear anything right away. I opened my eyes at the same time that the audience broke into applause.
I focused on them as I stood, and I realized that they were wiping tears and gesturing to me—acting like they were moved or touched by what I had just done. It made me feel overwhelmed. I stared at the wooden stage beneath my feet. I already felt such gratitude that to be praised for sharing it seemed like too much. I was all stirred up inside, and I felt true fulfillment in using my best gift to point to the One who gave it to me.
They cheered like crazy, and I smiled and waved and took a little bow as the announcer came to stand next to me. He was a charismatic older man who often announced at town functions, and I recognized him just from being at things like this. He was carrying his own microphone, and he came to stand next to me and put his arm around my shoulder.
"What a treat! My goodness, I didn't know you were a gospel singer, Miss Ivy!" He paused and used his hanky to wipe the sweat off of his brow and tears from his eyes dramatically, drawing a round of laughs from the audience.
He held his microphone in front of me and looked at me, waiting for me to respond.
"I didn't know it either," I said timidly.
The way I said it was such a stark contrast from the boldness with which I had just sang that another round of laughter came from the attentive audience.
"You didn't know?" he asked with a funny shocked expression just before he held the microphone in front of me again.
"No sir, that just kind of came out."
"Well, I hope there's more where that came from," he said, wiping his brow again dramatically.
There was a round of cheers, and I squinted into the lights and waved to the audience. This drew more cheers, and I smiled and blew a kiss.
"I can hear it now!" he said, patting my back proudly. "Ivy Lewis, the biggest name in gospel music."
"Bishop."
I said the word instinctually but under my breath. I hadn't meant for the announcer to hear me.
"Ma'am?" he asked, putting the microphone right in front of me.
"Bishop," I said since I was unable to think of anything to say besides the truth under the circumstances. "I was thinking my name would eventually be Bishop."
I said those words into the microphone, and even as they came out of my mouth, I was thinking, what in the world are you thinking, Ivy?
"Bishop like the motorcycle?" the announcer asked.
"Yes, sir," I said when he put the microphone in front of me again.
"Does this mean you're engaged to Mr. Bishop of Bishop Motorcycles?" the man asked.
Again, he placed the microphone right in front of me, waiting for my response.
"Yes sir, but he doesn't know it yet."
The crowd got a good kick out of that, and so did the announcer. He laughed right along with them. "I guess he does now, if he's here tonight," he said, squinting into the audience.
I leaned toward the microphone. "He is here, but he's not here—here. I mean, he's at the fair; he just couldn’t be at my show. He had to work. He has a tent set up over there by the arena."
The man continued squeezing my shoulders and wearing a huge grin as if truly enjoying the interview. "So, let me get this straight," he said. "Mr. Bishop is working right now and missing all this exciting news of his own engagement?"
I laughed, and the audience did as well. I leaned in to speak into the microphone. "Y'all please don't go over there and tell him I said all this," I said.
"You heard the lady," he warned. "Don't go tellin' the man he's getting married. That's the kind of news he might want to get from his future wife and not a bunch of people he doesn’t even know." The announcer squinted into the distance, looking toward the arena. "I wonder if he can hear us," he said. "Maybe we should whisper!" he whispered into the microphone making them all crack up again.
He put the microphone in front of me once again, and I leaned toward it. "Thank you for having me," I said.
Then, in a very official, announcer-type voice, the guy said, "Everybody give it up for Ivy Lewis while she's still Ivy Lewis!"
They all cheered, and I bowed and waved.
I was almost off the stage when I heard the announcer talking again. He mentioned how sweet I was and how much he enjoyed my set, but I was only half-listening because I knew it was only about me and not to me.
I was flustered by what I had just done. I had basically announced to the whole town that I planned on marrying Michael Bishop even though he and I hadn't even talked about that yet.
It wasn't just that, either. In fact, maybe I did that whole announcement thing just to distract myself from the bigger thing, which was that I just sang gospel music for the first time like I really meant it.
I talked to a few friends when I first came off the stage, but I hurried off while he was announcing the next act, so I was able to escape without speaking to a ton of people. I was still shaken as I walked across the fairgrounds.
The fair was packed. I made my way down a dirt path with my head down so I could watch my step in the moving mass of people. My thoughts were going a mile a minute, and I was surprised by how quickly I made it to Michael's booth. I looked up when I got to the edge of it and saw the front tire of a motorcycle.
I saw Michael standing on the far end of the tent, talking with a man and gesturing to a nearby motorcycle.
"Hey Ivy," Max said when he saw me walk by.
"Hey," I said, smiling at Max.
He and two others were working the booth along with Michael, and unlike Michael, Max wasn't helping any customers at the moment. I was so anxious to talk to Michael before someone else had the chance to tell him what I had done, that I was about to ask Max to take care of Michael's customer for me.
Just then, while I was looking at Max and contemplating the appropriateness of asking him to do such a thing, I heard a little whistle come from the other side of the tent.
I glanced in Michael's direction to find that he was smiling at me and had just started to walk my way. His customer had turned to walk out of the tent, and Michael's attention was now focused on me.
There were ten or fifteen motorcycles between Michael and me, and he walked so slowly that I was the main one closing the distance. I was glad he did that so that we could be more alone once we finally connected.
Someone started to come into the tent from my right side, and I watched as Michael gestured with a flick of his head, telling Max to take care of them. This exchange only took a second or two and, before I knew it, Michael was focused on me again.
He smiled at me and lifted his eyebrows as I came into his immediate space. It seemed like he was flirting with me, and I felt giddy and nervous.
"What?" I
asked shyly.
"What yourself. How'd it go?"
"Fine," I said. I felt oddly timid, and I knew Michael picked up on it, because he pulled back and stared at me as if wondering what I was thinking.
He reached out and grabbed my hand.
"How'd it go here?" I asked.
"Busy. I tried to make it over to your set, but we were non-stop with customers." He gestured to the motorcycles. "We sold more than I expected. I think about half of these are going home with new owners tonight."
"That's amazing!" I said.
The word amazing reminded me of something.
"I sang Amazing Grace," I said.
Michael tilted his head at me, and his expression grew intense as he looked into my eyes. "No, you didn't," he said.
I nodded. "I did. I'm sorry. I know you would have wanted to be there. I was looking out at the audience, and the fair, about to close with Dancing in the Street, and I just felt like I needed to sing it."
"Did you really?" he asked. He was staring straight into my eyes, and I smiled and nodded. "Did they like it?" he added.
I nodded again.
"Congratulations you two!"
The words were called from the crowded pathway, and I knew they were directed at Michael and me. I smiled and waved into the group of people walking by, hoping they wouldn't say anything else.
"What was that?" Michael asked.
"They were just congratulating us," I said. "You know, on everything."
Michael stared out at the path as if slightly confused by the random salutation, but he didn't say anything. I tugged him toward the back of the booth so we wouldn't be so visible from the pathway. He noticed what I was doing and took control, leading me to a spot near the back of the tent before turning me in his arms.
"How did the song go, Ivy? Tell me about it. Tell me everything. I can't believe you sang it and I wasn't there. I hate that."
"It went well," I said. "Everyone seemed to really like it. I looked out after I finished, and it seemed like they were moved. It was crazy. I felt overwhelmed, so I didn't have the best stage presence after that."
"What'd you do, trip or something?"
Summer of '65 (Bishop Family Book 1) Page 12
