Return of the Song

by Phyllis Clark Nichols

  She took the empty bowl from him. “I never did like to ask three times.”

  He laid the folder in front of her. “This, my dear, is a photograph of Mr. Roderick Adair.”

  Angel opened the folder slowly, almost fearful that Hattie’s description was an omen. She smiled. “Hattie, I haven’t known you to be wrong about much of anything in the last fifty years, but you’re dead wrong about Mr. Roderick Adair.”

  Hattie stepped from the sink to the table and took a look for herself. “Lawdy, lawdy, oooh, Miss Angel. Miss Caroline’s done into it now.”

  Caroline was sitting in her car listening to Mendelssohn when she heard the low-pitched hum of an aircraft and saw a plane in the distance beginning its approach to the runway. She looked in her rearview mirror to check her hair and makeup.

  Her hair was in its usual ponytail with the loose fine curls misbehaving as they always did around her face. She wore white pants, a navy-and-white-striped shirt, and a bright yellow sweater with a nautical theme. Angel had picked it out. It had been a compromise—still Caroline’s traditional tailored look with a bit of flair, as Angel had called it.

  She reached for her cell phone to let Sam know the plane was landing, then got out and stood leaning against the car as the plane slowed to its stop. Sam had asked Ned and Fred to wash her car this morning. Clean, polished cars had never been high on her priority list. She kept the car’s interior meticulously clean and neat, but never seemed to bother about the outside. Today she had no qualms about leaning up against it with her white pants.

  Ray, the attendant inside the hangar, walked onto the tarmac to greet the Kentucky guests. The private jet flying into Moss Point had generated more excitement for him than the governor’s plane did last September. Ray was beside the plane when the door opened.

  Caroline’s pulse sputtered a bit. She had worked since yesterday at denying the excitement she felt.

  A lean young man, maybe thirtyish with sandy blond hair, dressed in khakis and a green pullover, walked down the steps and shook Ray’s hand. Distance kept her from hearing what they said. He went back into the plane. She imagined something to be wrong. Ray stood at the base of the steps and waited.

  A few moments later, another man appeared in the doorway of the plane. A bit older, he was also dressed in khakis with a sky-blue shirt and a navy blazer. He was taller. She guessed about six feet or slightly more. His hair, dark and curly, framed a tanned face. He pulled sunglasses from his coat pocket and put them on. Saying something to Ray, he continued to stand in the doorway, looking across the runway.

  Caroline waved, but he didn’t see her. As he came down the steps, she walked toward the opened gate in the chain-link fence. She waved again, and this time he waved back just about the time his foot hit the pavement. He shook Ray’s hand and quickly made his way toward Caroline.

  She extended her hand and smiled broadly as he approached. “Hello, Roderick, I’m Caroli—”

  The touch of his hand catapulted her to Ferngrove and the night she’d met David. She remembered the wedding rehearsal and extending her hand to David as Mason began the introductions. David had taken her fingers and interrupted—“Wait, Mason”—before turning to her. “You must be Caroline, the wind-up kewpie doll who plays the piano. Do you take requests?”

  She had looked at Mason with her right eyebrow raised before turning to face David. “It is my pleasure to meet you, David. Apparently, my used-to-be friend Mason has told you more about me than he has told me about you, and yes, I have been known to take requests.” All the while, David held her hand—not in handshake fashion, but as though he were about to lead her onto the dance floor. She had not bothered to remove her fingers while she tried to decide which was more disarming: David’s boyish, lighthearted smile or the depth of his warm, brown eyes only inches away from her. Regardless, she’d been somewhat charmed.

  Just as she was now. Roderick held her hand just like David had.

  Roderick looked at her and fumbled a bit for words, most unlike her phone conversations with him. “Well, hello, Caroline . . . You’re so . . . You’re so . . .” He paused.

  She looked at him quizzically. “So short?”

  “How about . . . lovely?” He chuckled.

  “That’s better, and thank you.” She wondered what eyes hid behind the dark glasses.

  “I’m so glad things worked out. And it is indeed my personal pleasure to finally meet you face-to-face.”

  Her cheeks flushed, and she removed her hand from his. “I’m glad, too, to meet you and to get to take a ride on that sleek silver bird.” She turned toward the aircraft, feeling a bit awkward.

  “Well, Acer has to do some paperwork for Ray, and then we can be on our way. I hope lunch isn’t too much trouble.”

  Caroline laughed, thinking of Angel’s instructions and Hattie’s morning. “Trouble? Why, meals at Twin Oaks are pure pleasure, Mr. Adair!” she said in a mocking southern drawl. “I’ve been cooking for hours.”

  “You did the cooking yourself?”

  She noticed the tilt of his head and his slightly graying temples. “Of course not,” she said in her normal voice again. “It will be on the table when we arrive.”

  Acer joined them, made Caroline’s acquaintance, and started toward the car. “Would you like me to drive, Miss Carlyle?”

  “Okay, Acer, my name is Caroline, not Miss Carlyle, nor Miss Daisy, so I’ll drive. But thank you for asking. You can fly high this afternoon, and I’ll fly low on the streets of Moss Point. Wouldn’t want you to get lost. Fair enough?”

  Acer and Roderick looked at each other, nodded in agreement, and climbed in. “She has a sense of humor and a mind of her own, Acer. Better watch her.”

  On the drive through town, Caroline pointed out the Civil War monument, the Carter place with the treehouse in the backyard, the town square, the Methodist church, and finally the entrance to Twin Oaks. She parked in back next to the Pendergrass brothers’ truck.

  “We’re here.” She pointed to the studio. “This is where I live, in Angel’s studio. Nesting in the middle of the garden is home for me. Normally, I’d take the stone path up to the big house, but I promised Angel to bring you in through the front door, so we’ll enter through the gate over there and walk through the rose garden to get around front.”

  Sam met them at the front door and gave them a hearty welcome to Twin Oaks. He ushered them in to the sunroom just off the living room. Angel was holding court there.

  Caroline pointed out Angel’s paintings as they passed through.

  Roderick walked directly to Angel. “And you must be the Angel I’ve heard so much about.” He took her hand gently and winked. “It is indeed my pleasure to meet you, ma’am. And the food I’m smelling is the only thing that could smell better than the roses in your garden. You have created quite an Eden right here in Moss Point.”

  “You’re a kind gentleman to say such things.”

  He removed his shades and Caroline finally saw his eyes—large and brown with depth and deep creases in the lids. They were quiet eyes, gentle eyes, not darting back and forth but present and piercing.

  “Well, I would’ve prepared the meal myself, but I’ve been a bit—what shall I say?—confined the last few days. So Hattie, the finest cook in all of Moss Point, has prepared a wonderful meal for us.”

  “In fact, you might call it the Last Lunch,” said Sam. “The doctor put Angel on a very strict diet, so she has ordered all her favorite foods for her last meal today before she starts seriously with her new way of eating.” He helped Angel out of her chair.

  “Well, I’m certain it will be the finest meal I’ve had in a while. I’m quite a fan of southern cooking. My mother was a southern cook, and as much as I have missed her food, I’ve never forgotten her fried chicken and blackberry cobbler.”

  Angel introduced Roderick and Acer to Hattie and directed them to their seats. When the platter of chicken rested in the middle of the table and Hattie had taken her seat, Sa
m said, “I think we should thank the good Lord for such a plentiful table and for such an occasion as this.” He bowed his head, but remembered, looked up, and said, “And by the way, we hold hands around our table.”

  Caroline tried not to feel self-conscious as she took Roderick’s proffered hand.

  Finishing with a resounding amen, Sam entertained them through lunch with his history of Moss Point, interrupted occasionally by Angel reminding them what an accomplished young woman Caroline was.

  Roderick put down his fork after one especially flattering comment and pointed to Caroline. “So this young woman is Mother Teresa, the winner of the Van Cliburn piano competition, and the university’s homecoming queen all rolled into one?”

  Caroline, pink cheeked, shifted the subject, asking questions of Roderick and Acer.

  When the plates were almost empty, the front doorbell rang. “Well, who in the world could that be? Must not be from around here. Nobody comes to the front door.” Sam excused himself, and in a moment Angel heard him greet their unexpected guests. “Well, hello there, ladies, what a surprise!”

  “We just had to come by and see Angel. She got home before we could visit her at the hospital. These flowers are from all three of us, but Polly arranged them.”

  Angel immediately recognized the whiny voice of GiGi Nelson and sighed, making eye contact with Caroline. She wasn’t playing GiGi’s game today, so she excused herself from the table and joined Sam in the foyer to find not only the town’s most infamous redhead but also Gracie and Polly. “My goodness, I see it took all three of you to bring this basket of flowers. They’re just lovely, and as you can see, I’m doing just fine.” Angel pointed for Sam to take the basket.

  “We hope we’re not disturbing anything.” GiGi looked toward the dining room.

  “Actually, we have guests for lunch.”

  “Oh, you mean you’ve only been home one day, and you’re already entertaining guests?”

  “This was already planned, and besides, Hattie has been a big help. Maybe you ladies could come back later this afternoon after I’ve rested a bit.”

  “But will your guests be here then?” GiGi pressed.

  If Angel hadn’t been so doggone irritated, she would have enjoyed this. “No, in fact, they’ll be leaving just as soon as we can finish eating.”

  Polly strained to see the lunch guest who had ordered the bundle of irises for the recital. “Now, Mrs. Meadows, I know how much you love your garden, so I put together this basket with potted plants. You can enjoy it in the house for a few days, and then you can plant the flowers outside in your garden.”

  “Why, thank you, Polly. You ladies just thought of everything, didn’t you?”

  “Well, we just wanted to see how you’re doing, Angel.” Gracie tugged on GiGi’s sweater. “Come on, GiGi, we need to let them get back to their guests, and we’re glad you’re doing so well, Angel.”

  GiGi pressed one more time to get a look at the dining table before Gracie tugged at her sweater again. With a last wave goodbye, they turned and walked down the steps.

  Sam set the basket down while Angel stood at the door, smiling and waving like a fine southern woman even though she was spitting nails. Finally she closed the door and turned to Sam. She wasn’t smiling now. “Can you believe that? Bringing me flowers to see how I am? Why, they still think you brought me to Moss Point on a turnip truck.”

  “Oh, they’re just curious.”

  “And did you see those pink pants GiGi had on? Looked like somebody painted them on her. And whoever did the painting didn’t tell her that wrinkled, age-spotted cleavage is not in this year.”

  Sam raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Looked pretty good to me.”

  Angel glared at him. He chuckled and took her arm to lead her back to the dining table, where they explained the interruption and continued with lunch.

  Roderick talked business a bit with Sam only when Sam asked, and he was quick to inquire about Sam’s career as a lawyer and a judge. He asked about Angel’s paintings and poured out praise for the meal. He knew he was racking up points, but his flattery was sincere.

  “Hattie, your mother taught you well about the way to a man’s heart. But, Mr. Meadows, one look at Angel and I know that it was much more than fried chicken that melted yours.”

  “You’re mighty right about that. One look at that woman and I was gone, and after fifty-eight years I’m still crazy about her.”

  “Now, gentlemen, this is bordering on way more than enough. And please don’t start over when we serve you a slice of chocolate cake,” said Angel.

  As the last crumbs of cake were eaten, the courthouse clock chimed one thirty. Acer quietly reminded Roderick their flight plan called for a two o’clock departure. Hattie insisted on putting the leftover chicken in a box, and Caroline knew they’d find a few slices of chocolate cake when the box was opened later.

  Roderick didn’t resist.

  Sam directed them through the kitchen to the back porch. They’d already made their front-door entrance. He would drive them in Caroline’s car to the airstrip.

  Roderick hugged Angel and Hattie and promised to take good care of Caroline. “By the way, ladies, I want you to know that Acer and I would fly back to Moss Point almost any day for a lunch like this one. It would only take about an hour.”

  “Our door is always open, and there’s usually something good to eat,” Angel said as politely noncommittal as she could. Obviously the verdict was still out on him until Caroline’s return.

  Hattie was noticeably more encouraging. “For sure, next time I’ll fix you some of my famous chicken and dumplings. Why, I’ve made enough dumplings in my day to fill up two train boxcars, and Mr. Sam here has eaten his share of ’em. And I’ll cook some greens and—”

  “Hattie, you can start cooking, but I have to get these fine gentlemen to the airport,” said Sam.

  Roderick tried not to eavesdrop as Caroline lingered to hug the cooks and thank them for lunch. After a strong embrace, Angel took both of Caroline’s hands, looked at them, and said, “Now, hands, you make beautiful music.” She looked straight into Caroline’s eyes. “And you, my precious one, you dance.”

  There was a story in those words, Roderick decided.

  Caroline smiled, kissed Angel on the cheek, and bounced down the steps, leading the brigade down the stone path. Roderick followed. “Caroline, do we need to get your bags?”

  “They’re already in the car. Ned and Fred helped me with them this morning.”

  “Ned and Fred?”

  “Um-hum, the pea-green truck.” Caroline pointed to the driveway and smiled.

  “I understand. Too bad we’re so rushed. I was hoping to see your studio.”

  “Caroline, you have time to do that. Acer and I’ll just get the car started. It’s only one forty. That’s three hours before rush-hour traffic.” Sam laughed out loud, something he hadn’t done in days—not even when he’d watched GiGi walk down the steps.

  Caroline led Roderick through the side gate and into the garden to the back door. “That’s where I would normally enter, but I’ll take you around the pond and across the terrace to the front door.” She pointed out her favorite garden bench and the irises that had stopped blooming. She then unlocked the terrace door and said, “Come in. This is where I live and work.”

  Roderick looked around. The room was like Caroline: lovely and comfortable, simple and unpretentious, and it smelled of flowers. “So, this is where all the music is made?” He stepped toward the piano. “I can see what you mean about the space, and I can imagine the sound. Time to play one little tune?”

  “I closed the piano last night and decided the next note I would play . . .” The phone rang. She looked at it, then at him.

  “Oh, go ahead and answer, I’ll just look around.”

  “I’ll make it brief.” She picked up the phone on the fourth ring. “Hello, this is Caroline.”

  Roderick had heard her answer like that before. Now he
would have a picture of her.

  “Yes, you’re welcome, and we were so grateful for your time also. It was quite a feat just to get them there, so it was good to make the most of the time.” Pause. “You’re right, Bella is quite a fascinating person, and I’m somewhat anxious about her future as well.” Another pause. “I’m sorry, but I won’t be here this weekend. I’ll be returning on Saturday afternoon, but seeing Bella and Gretchen anytime over the weekend is improbable.” Longer pause. “Perhaps it’s best to just wait and stick to the schedule on our calendars.” Silence. “I look forward to working with you too. Goodbye.”

  She hung up the phone. “Just the psychologist from the university who wanted to come to Moss Point this weekend. He’s very interested in Bella.”

  Roderick said, “I see. Let’s take an airplane ride, shall we?”

  “Let’s do.”

  As they pulled out of the driveway, he saw three heads duck down in a florist van parked at the corner under the big oak tree. Based on her grimace, Caroline had apparently noticed as well. The little town of Moss Point would undoubtedly be buzzing this afternoon.

  Crossing Bridges

   Acer loaded Caroline’s bags onto the plane while she and Roderick said goodbye to Sam. On board, Roderick surprised her with the announcement that he was the copilot and would be in the cockpit for the takeoff. He pointed out the lavatory and the monitor on the wall where she could track their flight until he returned to the cabin, then went to the cockpit.

  “Miss Carlyle,” his voice soon came from the cabin speakers. “This is your captain. Could you please pick up the phone in the arm of your seat?”

  Caroline fumbled. Which arm? Does it lift?

  “This is your captain again. Lift the top flap on the right armrest for the phone and mash the red button. Miss Carlyle, the red button—could you mash it please?”

  She grabbed the phone, then saw the button and mashed it. Of course, it always works if you mash the red button.