by Chris Fabry
Rose had said it was best for Ray to stick to a routine at night, and Jed had tried to follow it, but the little guy looked so cute and Jed didn’t want him dehydrated when Rose returned. And what was the problem with giving him one more story? Or a snack from the fridge?
When Rose walked in the door, Ray jumped up from the couch and yelled, “Mama!”
Jed quickly turned off the cartoon they were watching. “He wouldn’t go to sleep.”
Rose smiled at Ray and he held out his arms. She carried him upstairs to his crib, then returned to Jed.
“Jed, I told you the routine. Why didn’t you follow it?”
“I tried. I really did.”
From upstairs they could hear Ray’s crib creak as he pushed and pulled at the railing. “Mama?”
“This is really important. When he gets off schedule, he gets cranky during the day—it makes life a lot harder.”
“I know. I’m sorry. He asked for another story and I gave it to him, and once I got him out of there, it was all over. But it’s one night.”
“Don’t tell me it’s one night. I know it’s one night.”
“I’ll take my guitar in and sing to him. That always puts him to sleep.”
“No! You’re not going up there. He needs to know that when it’s time to sleep, it’s time to sleep.”
“Just one song.”
“If you sing him one, he’ll want two. And when you’re gone, he’ll want me to come in there and sing something.”
“Maaaaaaama?” Ray said, starting to whine.
She shook her head. “He’s exhausted.”
“Look, I understand. Part of it is I don’t get to see him as much and when I do . . . I’ll follow your rules. It won’t happen again.”
“They’re not my rules. They’re our rules. This is not for me, it’s for Ray.”
Jed looked at the floor and listened to the crying begin in Ray’s room. Everything in him wanted to march up there and pick up his son and hold him until he went to sleep.
“How was dinner with Denise?”
She gave him a look as if saying, “Don’t try to make this better by asking questions.”
He threw his hands up and walked into the kitchen, beginning the dishes he hadn’t done. Peanut butter was smeared all over the high chair and it took him longer to wash and dry everything. Ray was in full meltdown when he finished, so he walked outside and sat at the end of the driveway, where he wouldn’t hear his son’s wails.
A plane passed overhead and he watched, wondering where it was going. Every plane, every bus, reminded him that he wasn’t on the road. Every song on the radio he heard was another song he hadn’t written or sung. There was something pulling him, something strong that tugged at a deep place.
He looked back at the house and saw the light in their bedroom go out.
CHAPTER 24
SHELBY BALE sat in a booth at a bar in Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport in Atlanta. She had flown on her own dime for this meeting and had slept on the plane, with a little help from the pills in the bottle that her friend Vivian supplied. It was 3:15 in the afternoon and she had only been off the plane a half hour, but she really needed a drink. This was an important meeting, a game changer, a life changer. She was twenty-five and as hungry as any starving artist could be.
Stan Russel lumbered through the door, sunglasses, polo shirt, hair slicked back. A paunch in front that would probably keep growing and cause heart disease if he didn’t get some exercise. He looked to be about fifty and she couldn’t see a wedding ring. Wasn’t important information, at least not yet. She hadn’t fired her manager, but if things went well with Stan, she would drop Barry Staver like a rotten banana, which was exactly what Barry reminded her of in looks and odor.
Shelby smiled and waved Stan over. He ordered a drink and joined her.
“I have a proposition,” she said when he sat.
“You get right to business, don’t you?” Stan said, smiling and glancing down.
Men were always glancing down with Shelby and she liked the divided attention. If she could distract them with her eyes or her smile or a curve here or there, it made getting what she wanted easier. She also liked it when they followed the trail of body art she sported, though the tattoos were a last resort.
“If I want something, I go get it,” she said. “And this is a win-win for all three of us. I’m dumping Barry.”
“Wait, all three of us?” Stan said.
“I want you to manage me.”
“What’s wrong with Barry?”
She gave a pout. “You know Barry. Not the brightest spotlight on the stage. Certainly not a spotlight like Stan Russel.”
“And you think I can help you.”
“We’ve been playing venues way too small. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. If I were any closer to the audience, I’d have to set up behind them. In most places there’s not room to open my violin case.”
He laughed and actually snorted. The alcohol and her jokes seemed to loosen him.
“That song of yours, ‘Confetti’—that’s a kickin’ little tune. Really smooth. The airplay you’ve been getting with that alone should have you fronting somebody.”
“Exactly. And we’re working on some new stuff that’s just as good. Even better. I mean, things are really coming together. And the band is tight. Ricky’s guitar, my fiddle.”
“Your fiddle is awesome, no question. You have a presence onstage. But why aren’t you working this out with Barry? He should be able—”
“Barry is over. I want you. We have a loyal following and things are growing. Have you seen our Facebook page? It’s exploding. The places Barry books us sell out fast, but we’re ready for the next step.”
“What are you saying? And who is the third person who benefits from this?”
“I want you to pick us up. Take over the tour—there are only three dates left and then I’m free. I want to open for Jed King.”
Stan stared at her, then threw his head back and laughed more loudly than was comfortable for the room. “You and Jed King? That’s a good one, Shelby. That’s like booking . . .” He thought for a minute but couldn’t seem to come up with a comparison.
Shelby responded before he had a chance to shoot her down. “I know it looks weird up front, but think about it. We bring our fans, he brings his—we fill up a venue neither of us can fill alone.”
“And his fans complain about your show and your fans say Jed plays too much God-squad stuff.”
“Not gonna happen. Both audiences are exposed to each other. They’ll love it.”
“Exposed. Pun intended?”
She arched her back and sat up straight and the man’s eyes wandered again. “I know we’re a little more edgy than what Jed does. He’s got the purebred, wholesome-guy, family-man thing going. And I have a reputation for pushing the envelope. But I think we could be good for each other. I’ll tone down some of the stuff we do onstage.”
“You shouldn’t change what’s working for you.”
“It’s not changing, it’s adapting. Every species has to adapt in order to survive and become stronger. The truth is, we’ll make Jed’s shows more exciting. We’ll bring an energy that he’ll have to match. It’ll push him a little. And he’ll bring legitimacy to what we do. Everybody wins.”
“Do you even know his music?” Stan said, draining his glass.
“My stepmom was into his dad’s music, so I grew up with David King. When I was old enough to get out, I’d go to concerts and saw Jed in this little place, back before he got married.”
“Before he broke your heart by getting married.”
She smiled sweetly. “You hear that a lot, I’ll bet.”
“Jed has a lot of lady appeal, but he’s not a player.”
We’ll see about that, Shelby thought.
“I knew he’d make it someday; that was clear. The lyrics, his looks, and that voice of his. He’s a good musician, too. Even though you weren’t alw
ays sold on him.”
Stan raised his eyebrows. “You do know a few things, don’t you?”
“I know enough to be dangerous.” She reached out and took Stan’s hands, turning them over. “You have an interesting life line.” She traced the lines in his hands and could feel the power she had over him.
“And you think my lines and Jed’s lines mesh with your lines?”
“I can feel it.”
“How does your band feel about this?”
“They’re as fed up with Barry as I am. It’s time for a change. For you, Jed, us, and the music.”
“Well, I’ll admit at first blush it feels a little far-fetched.” Now he took her hands and turned them over. “But I think we might be able to work something out.”
She pulled back from him. “This is strictly a deal about the music. You understand?”
Stan lifted his hands. “It’s business. I got it. But I need to talk with Jed. Get his blessing on the whole thing.”
“I thought you were the manager.”
“I am.”
“Then why can’t you tell him what’s best? I mean, if you feel it as strongly as I do, he’ll go along.”
“I try not to force things on my artists.”
“You don’t think Jed will approve?”
“I’m sure he’ll be on board if I approach it the right way. If I decide this is a good idea.”
“You’ve decided, Stan. You know it. This is a gut thing, intuition. This will be huge. So surprise him. Surprise the audience. Where’s Jed’s next show?”
Stan pulled out his calendar. He was old-school. Probably was being dragged kicking and screaming into the digital age, still at the rest stop on the information superhighway. “He has a few days off right now. His anniversary. Doesn’t go back out until a week from tomorrow. It’s Boston.”
“Perfect. Our last gig is Sunday in Ohio. We’ll head toward Boston and get the team to blast social media and fill up the place.”
Stan nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can see this working out well for all of us. I’ll get a contract together.”
They shook and Shelby couldn’t believe how easy it was or how quickly fortunes could change. She was going to finally meet Jed King.
CHAPTER 25
ROSE FELT CONFLICTED as their fifth anniversary approached. Jed had suggested they get away to some deserted island, just the two of them. They didn’t have a boatload of money, but concert attendance was growing and with that came more time away. There was always a cost with success.
The conflict in her heart wasn’t about celebrating—it was leaving Ray behind. Her dad was overjoyed at the idea and told them to spend a whole week away. Jed saw nothing wrong with the plan. “Ray will have the time of his life at the vineyard!” And that was true. But . . .
There always seemed to be a but in her life these days.
Rose worried about her father’s health. He had seemed to slow down in the past year and there were times when he didn’t have the stamina for things that were so easy only a year earlier. Seeing her dad every other week or so helped her realize the slow decline that was happening. His breathing was labored at times when they’d visit on the weekend. She’d pull up with Ray while her dad was working in the vineyard and he would hurry to the car, out of breath and putting out his hand for stability.
There was no way she could convince him to go to the doctor. He only went to the doctor when he was in so much pain he couldn’t “sit up and string beans,” as he would say. She worried that she’d one day walk into the house and find him slumped over in his office among all those stuffed predators. She’d been so committed to her father and the vineyard, and seeing one diminish and the other flourish was difficult.
“Stan manages a guy who has a condo in Cabo. He’s offered it to us.”
“Where’s Cabo?” she said.
Jed told her about the spot on the Mexican coast with the bluest water and clean beaches and the feeling of being a million miles away from everything.
“Why don’t we do something closer?” Rose said. “We could take Ray with us and he could play in the sand. He’s never seen the ocean. And he’d be tired by dark.” She said that last part because she knew Jed would want to “connect” on vacation.
Jed frowned. “You know I love Ray. He’s the light of my life. But we need some time alone. Just me and you, like it used to be, you know? Before I go back out on the road. Let’s make some memories.”
“Jed, when are we going to start making memories as a family? The three of us?”
Rose didn’t want to be a nag and certainly didn’t have to have everything her own way, but there was something that bugged her in this and she couldn’t put a finger on it. She didn’t want the separation that success bred, but she also wanted Jed to be who God had created him to be. To sing the songs he’d been given and make beauty from the pain of life. That’s what audiences connected with. It was why he was becoming more successful. His songs struck some deep chord in hearts and lives and people were responding. She didn’t want to put her foot down about their vacation. That sounded controlling and motherly and anything like the wife she wanted to be. She wanted Jed to be a strong husband who would see the problems they were facing. She wanted him to understand, without being told, how hurtful some of his choices had been to her. Little things were building and compounding like interest on a credit card. And this anniversary celebration was the sliver in the finger that kept sending signals to her brain, a constant throb that wasn’t going away. But it seemed so small. It was silly to make a big deal about this.
Rose pored over her old scrapbooks of family vacations when she was younger. Her mom and dad and brothers searching for seashells at Myrtle Beach. Those were some of her best family memories of all. Why couldn’t Jed see that? Why couldn’t she get him to understand?
She had heard that a man’s heart would naturally turn toward his work and providing for his family. That was a good thing, a God-honoring thing—but it could also mean the man got his worth from what he did, and she could see how easily Jed could get lost in his career and abandon the family because of his art.
But she knew the same was true for her. Motherhood had opened her heart in ways she couldn’t believe, but there was a subtle pull toward Ray because he had become the most important person in her life. He was helpless, after all. He depended on her for everything. And she would do anything for him. She knew this could push her away from the person who helped her create Ray.
This had been stunning to Rose. She thought the hardest part of marriage would be the wedding preparation. She had no idea it would be so much work and take so much mental and emotional energy and time. The conflict with Jed scared her and she wanted to bury it, just put a good face on things and move on. Bringing stuff up, like the anniversary trip, was not her style. She was the pleaser, the one who simply went along with the program and tried to make people happy. That’s why things had become so difficult and pronounced when Ray had been born. She wasn’t just speaking for herself any longer; she was speaking for the two of them, and a divide was growing between them and the man they both loved.
The truth was, she and Jed were both busy, and if there was anything that could kill the heart, it was two people who were busy with good things going in different directions. Separate lives with separate agendas going separate ways did not knit hearts together.
She stewed on the decision, talked with Denise, longed to be able to talk with her mother, and was careful not to bring it up with her dad. Then, two weeks before their anniversary, Jed came to her, a smile on his face and an envelope in his hand. “I split the difference.”
“What do you mean?”
“Open it.”
She pulled out a brochure with dates written on it in blue marker. Across the top Jed had scrawled, Rose and Jed’s Island Family Anniversary Getaway.
“It’s a little island just off the coast of South Carolina. The rental house is ours for five days. It has a pool in the b
ack—with a gate around it so Ray can’t wander in on his own. He can play in the sand all day or swim in the pool, and you and I can walk the beach with him and talk and read and do . . . whatever. I don’t know about the ocean temperature this time of year, though.”
She hugged him and smiled. “It’s perfect,” she said. “Especially the ‘whatever’ part.”
Rose wanted to go right then. She felt like a child who couldn’t wait to pack her suitcase. Couldn’t wait to tell Ray what he was about to experience.
“Oh, and I called Ronny over at the feed store in Sharon,” Jed said. “I asked if he’d go by a couple of times while we’re gone and check in on your dad. Real quiet-like so he won’t know we asked.”
Rose beamed. This was what she wanted. Someone thoughtful, decisive, and caring. She would make the vacation a memorable one for Ray and Jed.
Jed built sand castles with Ray and took him into the surf. Rose sat under an umbrella and watched. They stayed at the beach too long on the first day and got burned, then spent the rest of the week with the smell of aloe trailing wherever they went.
Ray was a ball of energy until darkness hit and then he was out, just fall-into-bed tired. Jed tucked him in and found Rose sitting outside under the moon.
“Wish we could take a moonlight walk on the beach,” she said.
He sat in the beach chair next to her and she climbed onto his lap.
“This is not a bad compromise,” he said.
And it wasn’t. The next few days were restful and playful and romantic, as he’d hoped. The spark was back in Rose’s eyes and Jed promised himself he would take more time off, spend more time with his growing family. He’d do it not just for them, but for himself.
The day before they left, the phone rang in the house. Jed had turned off his cell and didn’t make contact with the outside world, but somehow Stan found the number.
“Just making sure you’re ready for Boston,” Stan said. “It’s going to be a dynamite venue for you.”
“I’ll be there.”