Bittersweet Passion

by Peggy Webb

  Instead she looked into the sweet trusting face of her old friend who had been with the band during the lean years, the years when they’d all pile into the old l950s school bus they’d painted a psychedelic blue and go out for burgers after a performance because that was as far as their money would stretch.

  “I changed my mind because I’ve met a man who makes me know just how lonely my life is, Pete.”

  Pete didn’t ask what was holding her back. He knew. Instead he gave her another bear hug.

  “Anything I can do to help, Sky? You know Steffie and I would do anything in the world for you.”

  She squeezed his hand, then reached for Steffie’s.

  “Just let me sing and feed me a burger…for old time’s sake.”

  “You got it, kid.”

  Chapter Seven

  From the diary of Anne Beaufort Westmoreland:

  September 22, 200l

  Tragedy comes so quickly. How can this be?

  Last night as I lay in bed beside Michael I could swear I heard him whisper my name. “Annie,” he said, just like that. Once and then no more.

  I was holding him close, stroking his back the way he’s always loved and telling him how much I love him. “Michael,” I told him, “I adore you, I love you more than life itself, you are my whole universe, my darling. Please, please come back to me. Please, Michael.”

  That’s when he said my name. No more than a breath, really. A sigh. Or was it a dream? Was it just the force of my own desire that gave him voice?

  Whatever it was, it gave me hope. I woke up this morning with a bounce in my step. The first thing I did after I got out of bed, after I’d kissed my husband and said, “Good morning, my beloved,” was fling open the blinds to let the sunshine in.

  And that’s when I saw that something wasn’t right with Michael. Other than the coma, I mean.

  Panicked, I raced into the hall still in my gown, screaming for a nurse.

  Why I didn’t use the call button is beyond me. No, it isn’t. Not really. I’ve always been one to give voice to my pain. I did it when I got the phone call saying Michael had been caught in an avalanche in the Himalayas.

  And that’s how I did it this morning when I saw the first outward signs of pneumonia. Not that I knew what it was. Not then. But later. After the doctor had arrived. After the poking and prodding, the X-rays to confirm.

  “It’s pneumonia, Anne. Definitely in the left lung, and I don’t like the looks of the right one,” the doctor told me.

  By then I’d somehow managed to get enough control to ask intelligent questions.

  “How serious is that?”

  “I won’t lie. Michael’s been bedridden for four months. He’s not in top-notch condition, and he’s immobile. It’s very serious, Anne.”

  “Is he going to die?”

  How I asked that question without screaming is a mystery to me. I guess we’re all given enough strength for the moment. That’s what Daniel says.

  He’s down the hall calling Emily and Hannah. There’s a phone in the room, but still, we don’t want Michael to hear. We don’t want him to know that there’s a chance he might die.

  That’s what the doctor told me. “I won’t lie to you, Anne,” he said. “Pneumonia could kill Michael, but we’re going to do everything in our power to see that it doesn’t.”

  Thank God, Daniel is here. I’m sure Emily will be here sometime this afternoon, though I told Daniel to tell both girls it’s not necessary that they come. Not yet, at least.

  Emily will come, though. It will only take her a few hours to drive down.

  I’m not sure about Hannah. I know she’ll want to come. I think she’s winding up an assignment, and if that’s the case she’ll probably fly in tomorrow.

  Clarice is already here.

  God, what would I do without my friends? She came bearing goodies, mostly chocolate. She said, “I’m here for the duration, and I’m here to see that you don’t starve.”

  Isn’t that just like her to stave off hunger with a pound of chocolate-covered almonds, a pound of chocolate-covered peanuts and a twelve-pack of milk-chocolate candy bars.

  Also, isn’t that just like her to make me laugh in the midst of tears?

  I thought I heard Linda and Jane out in the hall a while ago. Naturally Clarice called them. She believes in rallying the friends.

  I do, too, though I told her and Daniel that I need some time alone with Michael. They understood.

  Here’s the thing. No matter how much you love your family and your friends, the relationship that will always come first is the one with your true love.

  It’s quiet in the hall now. I can almost believe that I’m back at Belle Rose with Michael, that he’s just walked into the room and hugged me from behind, that he’s leading me to the bed with that sweet, sweet smile on his face and that special look of love in his eyes.

  That he’s going to lie down with me and hold me close and whisper, “Don’t let go, Annie. Don’t ever let go.”

  And I won’t, my darling. I promise.

  I won’t.

  I’m going to lie beside him now. I’m going to wrap my arms around his fever-hot body and lie so close I can synchronize our breathing, our heartbeats. Then I’ll will all my strength into him. I’ll smooth back his hair and kiss his lips and whisper, “Don’t let go, Michael. As long as you don’t let go, you’ll be all right. As long as you hold onto me, we’ll always be together.”

  I love you. I love you, Michael.

  Chapter Eight

  I feel you, Anne. I feel your body next to mine.

  Tears? Is that tears?

  Don’t cry, my precious. I’m not going to leave you. We have too much loving ahead of us, too much laughter.

  Keep talking to me, angel. I need the sound of your voice. It grounds me, pulls me back from whatever is at the other end of the tunnel.

  Yes…that’s it. Keep talking. Ah, yes. And your hands. Such a soft and tender touch.

  There. Over my heart. I feel the imprint of your warm hand.

  Don’t let go.

  I love you, too, Annie. I love you.

  Chapter Nine

  On the off chance that Daniel would have gone home, Skylar waited until afternoon to go to Tranquility Manor. But still, she scanned the parking lot. Half hoping.

  And there was his car. Georgia license plates. For some foolish reason her heart lifted and her step was light as she walked through the front doors of the nursing home.

  Bob Clements saw her coming, and stepped out of the janitorial supply room to greet her.

  “You’re late coming today. Harriet’s been askin’ ’bout you.”

  “I worked last night. At Pete’s club down by the river. I hope Harriet didn’t worry.”

  “A little bit. You know how she is.”

  “I’ll go see her…right after I stop by Michael Westmoreland’s room.”

  She had to go there first. She had to know if Daniel was in the nursing home.

  Bob shook his head. “Lordy, lordy, that family’s got a heap of trouble today.”

  Skylar went pale. “What happened?”

  “That poor man’s done gone and took the pneumonia. I’ve seen lots of folk leave here feet first when that happens.”

  “Thanks for telling me, Bob.”

  Walk down the hall, she told herself. Don’t run. Make it look natural. You’re just stopping by to check on one of your patients.

  That’s how she viewed all the people in the nursing home. As her patients. After all, music was the best medicine. Right after laughter. Maybe even before.

  As she neared Michael Westmoreland’s room she could hear the murmur of voices. Daniel’s voice. Deep. Rich. Sending shivers all over her. Speeding up her heartbeat.

  She paused outside the door with her hand over her chest. Really, she shouldn’t go in there. The Westmorelands were in the midst of a family crisis. They didn’t need her.

  Probably didn’t want her. She’d just be in
the way.

  Besides, she wanted to avoid Daniel, didn’t she? Wasn’t that her whole purpose for arriving late today?

  Skylar lifted her chin at a determined angle, and strode on down the hall.

  Daniel was in the midst of responding to something Emily had said when he felt a tug on his heartstrings that was akin to a sharp pain.

  Skylar.

  “Excuse me, Em.” He headed to the door.

  “Daniel, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’ll be right back.”

  He flung open the door and saw her disappearing down the hallway.

  “Skylar…wait.” She turned when she heard him. Thank God, she turned and waited.

  He caught up to her and touched her arm, then drowned. That’s the only way he could describe the sensation that overtook him. Total immersion. Loss of breath. Focus on one thing. Skylar’s eyes.

  “I heard about your father, Daniel. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you. You weren’t going to stop to say hello?”

  “I didn’t want to intrude.”

  “You could never be an intrusion. More like a welcome breath of spring.”

  “The rest of your family might not share that opinion. Especially today.”

  “No. They’d be glad to see you. Besides, I’d like you to meet my mother.”

  “Daniel…don’t.”

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, Skylar. I’d like you to meet her for her sake. Right now she can use all the support she can get.”

  He loved watching the play of emotions over Skylar’s face. It was like sitting on a porch swing on a partly cloudy day watching the sky change from a sun-suffused blue to a portentous gray, then back again.

  Finally she’d settled the matter in her own mind. When she stepped back from him, Daniel realized how close he’d been standing. Close enough to smell the fragrance she wore.

  Did she put it in the crook of her elbows? In that soft spot where the blue veins pulsed? Did she spray it behind her knees so that when she walked she left a siren’s trail?

  Was that what had called him from his father’s room? The scent of a siren?

  Or had it been something more?

  His heart. Yearning.

  “I’ll see your father again sometime soon, Daniel. I want you to know this about me: I don’t abandon my patients. Once I start singing for one of them, I don’t give up. I don’t walk away.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “They count on me. Whether they can say so or not, I know they do.”

  “I believe my father does. He looked and seemed more peaceful after you’d sung to him.”

  “Thank you for telling me that.”

  Daniel had to touch her. He had to. And so he held out his hand, and she took it.

  “Thank you, Skylar. I hope someday my dad can thank you in person.”

  “Oh, he will, Daniel…if I’m still around.”

  Daniel couldn’t take that personally. After all Skylar Tate was a busy woman. A professional singer. Almost famous.

  “I should go back,” he said, then he released her and watched her walk away, watched her until she’d rounded the corner and he could no longer see the vivid blue sweater that matched her eyes.

  The scent of her perfume lingered, and Daniel inhaled deeply. A man could get drunk on a woman like her. A man could lose his sense completely.

  If he weren’t careful.

  And Daniel wanted to be careful. Didn’t he?

  The brief euphoria he’d felt in Skylar’s presence stayed with him all the way down the hall. But the minute he stepped into his father’s room, it vanished.

  Everybody turned toward him. Expectant. Hopeful.

  His mother. His baby sister. His mother’s three best friends.

  Say something to make us feel better, Daniel, they silently pleaded. Tell us everything’s going to be all right.

  “Any change?” he asked.

  “None,” Clarice said. “The doctor was in here while you were gone. The right lung’s still clear. Thank God.”

  Maybe he should. If he were the minister he ought to be, Daniel would lead them all in a prayer of thanksgiving for that small sign.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a real conversation with God. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d fallen to his knees and felt the power of an all-loving Father descend on him.

  His skin felt hot and his mouth dry. Like a man with a fever. A man with a soul sickness.

  What was happening to him? And what was he going to do about it?

  Emily, who had been standing with her arm around Anne, left her mother’s side and bent over Michael.

  “Daddy, you have to get well. My wedding’s less than two weeks away, and I want you to give me away.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “I’ve always counted on you to do that, Daddy.”

  Anne’s chin went up as she stationed herself by her husband’s bed and began to massage his feet.

  “Of course, he’s going to do that. Michael’s just resting up for the big occasion, aren’t you, darling?” She glared at everybody in the room, her eyes blazing. “I won’t hear any more gloom-and-doom talk in here. Clarice, you and Linda and Jane take Emily somewhere and feed her dinner. She hasn’t had a bite to eat since she got here.”

  “What about you, Anne? You need to eat, too. Come with us,” pleaded Jane.

  Anne just gave her that look, and Clarice grabbed Jane’s arm and practically dragged her toward the door.

  “Anne’s got enough chocolate to see her through the siege of Vicksburg. Come on. Let’s give Michael a chance to rest.”

  “Are you coming, Daniel?” Emily asked.

  “Not yet. I’ll grab a bite later.”

  His mother waited until the door had closed behind them.

  “I’m fine here, Daniel. You should have gone with them.”

  “I’ll get something later, Mom.”

  “What’s this all about, Daniel?”

  “Nothing.”

  He hoped he was telling the truth. He hoped his strange malaise of spirit was a passing thing. An insignificant blip on his life’s screen that was of no consequence.

  “You haven’t seemed yourself these last couple of days.”

  “I have a lot on my mind. We all do.”

  “Yes, that’s true.”

  It was getting dark outside. Daniel went to the window to lower the blinds.

  “No…leave them. It’s going to be clear tonight. Maybe we can see the stars.”

  We. The two of them together. His mother and his father. Lying side by side in the bed watching the evening show as if it were staged exclusively for them.

  And that’s the way it should be. If there was any justice at all.

  If there was a God.

  Agony ripped through Daniel. He had to get out. He had to leave the room. He had to leave the nursing home with its awful collection of frail, needy humanity.

  “Will you be all right here tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re sure? I’ll stay if you need me.”

  “I know you will. But Michael and I need to be alone.”

  “You’ll call me if you need me?”

  “Yes.”

  Not at home, though. Not at Belle Rose. Daniel couldn’t bear to go back to that big empty house with no one except Emily to keep him company. Besides, Jake was flying in tonight. The two of them would want to be together without him.

  Pairs. The world was made up of pairs.

  Noah’s ark. All the animals going in two by two.

  Daniel felt an insane urge to laugh, then wondered if he might be going crazy.

  “You have my cell phone number?” he asked.

  “Yes. Now shoo, go on, get out of here.”

  “Good night, Mom.”

  He kissed Anne’s cheek, then she nodded toward the bed. Dutifully Daniel leaned down to bid his father good-night.

  Michael’
s face felt too hot. Like a man who had gathered memorabilia from thirty-something years of marriage then lit a big bonfire inside himself and was standing back watching it all burn. Like a man trying to say goodbye.

  “Good night, Dad,” Daniel said, and then he pleaded silently, Don’t leave us, Dad. Not yet. Please. There’s too much I need to ask you.

  Chapter Ten

  Babe’s had always been a popular nightspot for Vicksburg’s revelers and music lovers, but never more than when Skylar Tate started singing there. Word had spread quickly around town that the lead singer for the New Blues was appearing in Pete Sanford’s club down by the river. The star of the hottest video on the market.

  By eight o’clock there was standing room only. By nine there was such a crowd of people standing that the waitresses could hardly find their way through to deliver the drinks. In spite of the rain. In spite of the biggest downpour Vicksburg had seen in a long time.

  That’s why, when Skylar took the stage and gazed out over the crowd she missed him. That’s why she was well into her second set, the one that featured “Someone to Watch Over Me,” the one where the crowd became hushed and attentive, before she saw Daniel Westmoreland. Perched on a stool at the end of the bar. Nursing a drink.

  She nearly lost control of the song. Mark on the keyboard gave her a funny look, and she winked at him to show that she knew exactly what she was doing. That the long pause was a new twist on the arrangement.

  She finished the Gershwin tune and segued into another love ballad. But her mind was only half on “Try a Little Tenderness.” Instead it was on the man at the bar. The drop-dead gorgeous preacher who couldn’t have shocked her more if she’d seen him down on the riverboats placing wads of money on the table and trying to put the right spin on a pair of dice.

  Why was he at Babe’s?

  It was none of her business, of course. Except that Michael was one of her patients now, and naturally she was concerned that something might have happened to him, so wasn’t it logical that she should talk to Daniel as soon as her set was over?