The Song

by Chris Fabry

  If only Jed were here, she thought. She’d been right about her father. He wasn’t well. And she hated that her husband was a million miles away.

  She made it to the house and dialed 911. The operator said an ambulance was on its way. Rose took Ray by the hand, got her cell phone, and went back up the hill, hoping her father might be sitting up, might have rallied, but he was still lying there when they reached him.

  “Is he dead, Mama?” Ray said.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  She dialed Jed. There was a five-hour time difference, but she didn’t care where he was or what he was doing. She needed to hear his voice.

  CHAPTER 33

  SHELBY CHOSE AN OLD PUB across the street from their hotel for after the concert and the band basically took it over. There were a few other patrons there, but things thinned out soon after they arrived. Shelby could tell Jed tagged along out of a sense of duty and camaraderie. The band was a living, breathing organism, a team, and the more you did to foster that, the better they grew together and fed off each other. But Jed seemed to dislike the late-night meals, probably because they kept him up even later and it was clear that drinking wasn’t his thing. He’d have a glass of wine, but that was it, although Shelby was on a mission to change that.

  She couldn’t understand why he didn’t like to have fun. Was there something in the Bible about it? Maybe the fact that Jed’s father had been a hard drinker at one point clouded his choices, or there could be something more. But from what Shelby had read about the story, if his dad hadn’t had the affair, Jed would never have come along. So in some weird, cosmic way, God could use even that to bring about something good. Of course, Shelby preferred to think of it in terms of karma or just the luck of the draw. But if Jed wanted to believe there was some divine force that cared about him, she was content to let him.

  Shelby felt Jed’s eyes on her from the back of the room as she lined up a row of shots on the bar. Vivian went first and the crowd cheered when she drank the last one. Jed’s drummer, Johnny, followed, but only got five down before he stopped.

  Shelby patted him on the back. “That’s not a bad first try.”

  Then it was her turn and she showed them how it was done. A roar rose when she downed the last one and she pumped her fist in the air, laughing and feeling totally alive, totally on fire. Feeling the momentum of the performance and the team together and all the shows they had done in order to get to this place, this success, this celebration.

  She looked at Jed across the room and saw his melancholy face. Something inside her ached for him. And her instinct told her this was her chance to break through. This night.

  She picked up a cigarette and took a pull, feeling the nicotine mix reach deep into her lungs.

  “All right! Okay! Shut up, people!” she said, quieting the crowd. “Uh, Mr. King? It’s your turn.”

  Jed waved her away. “I’m good.”

  The band cheered as she approached him, a shot in her hand. She looked at Vivian, tongue firmly planted in her cheek. “So I think he’s adding drinking to the list of things he’s only done with his wife.”

  Their friends laughed and egged her on.

  “You guys, he has got a vineyard back home. A vineyard! Because he knows when he gets home and walks through his big front door, he can have all the wine he wants.”

  She was next to Jed now and only he could hear her. “Am I right?”

  Jed stared at her, his face, his eyes, saying everything. “No.”

  Shelby studied him and took another puff of her cigarette, trying to understand all that he was saying. Quietly she said, “Are you serious?”

  Jed didn’t respond, just looked down.

  “Okay,” she whispered, hearing the concern in her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I just . . . I hate seeing you like this and I wanted you to have a really good time. Enjoy it.”

  With resolve and the rest of the room behind her, she coaxed Jed one more time. “Are there not shots on the bar? I think there are shots on the bar.”

  Jed’s team responded with cheers and applause. Jed looked at Shelby, then broke into a sheepish smile.

  “All I’m saying is, you’ve earned it,” Shelby said, trying to get him the rest of the way to his feet.

  Jed slapped his hand down on the table with resolve and stood, and the room went wild. Stan was already wasted and Vivian looked at Shelby with wide, bloodshot eyes. Viv was the one who began the chant of “Jed! Jed! Jed!” Shelby and the others joined in and the bartender beamed, knowing this was going to be a very good night.

  Jed reached the bar and raised the first shot glass. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we owe it to Miss Shelby Bale this evening. Give it up!”

  Hoots, hollers, cheers, and the unintelligible sounds of inebriated voices in unison followed.

  “This one’s for my boys, ladies and gentlemen!” Jed yelled.

  Shelby stood back and let it happen as if she weren’t trying to pull the strings, as if she weren’t loving every second. She noticed a light in her peripheral vision. On Jed’s table a phone vibrated. Rose’s image flashed on the screen, Jed’s son next to her, sunlight behind them. It was such a pretty picture, a pretty little family. So idyllic. Shelby hit the side of the phone to decline the call.

  Jed slammed the next drink back and the noise in the room grew louder. He threw back the fourth and fifth and shook his head at the sting. The room was electric now and out of control.

  Shelby slipped the phone into her pocket and took another puff from her cigarette as Jed continued down the row, slamming more shots, rising to the sound of the people around him as if he were onstage somewhere.

  The phone vibrated. Rose again. Shelby hit the Decline button and shoved the phone in her purse.

  Jed downed the last shot and steadied himself against the bar, then threw his arms into the air and shouted in victory. Everyone joined him in celebration. He actually looked happy. Joyous. And he was on his way to becoming quite drunk.

  Vivian came to her. “Congratulations. I think you’ve officially loosened him up.”

  “Should be an interesting night,” Shelby said.

  Vivian smiled. “You have to tell me all about it tomorrow.” She looked at the clock. “Well, later today.”

  A song line came to Shelby. “Deep dark sky, so black so bright, all curtains back tonight. I’m obsessed, I must confess, I don’t care if it’s wrong or right.”

  There would be nothing hidden or forbidden between them. Nothing would ever be the same after tonight. Jed belonged to her.

  CHAPTER 34

  JED WASN’T STUMBLING down the hall like a few of the guys, but the room numbers on the fifth floor were floating in his vision. It was an interesting sensation that he’d felt only a couple of times. Once when he was a teenager with some friends at a party and another time at a bar where he was playing before he got married. His set kept getting pushed back and by the time he took the stage, he could barely walk. Both times he swore he would never use alcohol that way again.

  And here he was, walking down the hallway with Shelby close to him and the others retreating to their rooms. She was laughing and there was no tension in the air, just freedom. And it felt good to feel free.

  When they reached room 539, Shelby turned and leaned on the door. “So did you have a good time?”

  “I really did. Thank you.”

  “Thank you. Now I get to scratch ‘visit England’ off my to-do list.”

  “Was that right after ‘get a whole lot of tattoos’? That’s something I’ve been noticing—you have one or two.”

  “It was after ‘meet Jed King.’”

  He took her hand and turned it over, looking at the tattoos on her arm, and something inside ignited. Maybe it was the liquor. Maybe it was the forbidden nature of being alone in a hotel together in a situation he should never have been in. The truth was, the excitement, the tingles she gave him, felt good.

  “Seriously, what’s
the story with these?”

  “Just my way of preserving memories, I guess.”

  “You should try scrapbooking.”

  “Scrapbooking?”

  “It seems more . . . prudent.” When he said the word prudent, he stumbled a little.

  “Yeah, prudent. But it kills memories.”

  “It kills memories?”

  “It’s a fact. A photo replaces the memory in your mind.” Shelby looked at her arm. “I see these, and memories just come flooding back, you know?”

  “So you don’t regret any of them.”

  The word regret seemed to do something to her, like lighting a flame in her mind. Her lips were wet and inviting as he stared at her. Those big eyes boring into his soul. “Feeling regret and guilt is like punching yourself in the face. Sure, it hurts. But it’s self-inflicted. So don’t do it.”

  “That’s how I feel about tattoos.”

  She lowered her voice even more. “All I’m saying is, do what you want. And don’t feel guilty about it.”

  She held his gaze, then glanced at his lips and let the words hang there. Jed thought about them. That could be a song. Do what you want and don’t feel guilty. Live life the way you want and taste the world. Something like that. Bite into some fruit and don’t worry about where all the juice will go. It felt like freedom. That’s what Shelby was pulling him toward. And the pull was strong. Stronger than anything he had ever felt before.

  Shelby put her key in the door, opened it, and walked inside. She turned and said, “Night, Jed,” and let go of the door.

  Just before it closed, he put out a hand and stopped it. He pushed it open to see her standing there, waiting for him as if she expected this, as if she had planned it. When he walked inside, the door closed tightly and they were alone. She smiled and embraced him. And when their lips met, it was like a forest fire ignited in his soul.

  There was an old preacher Jed had heard on the radio who talked about the difference between love and lust. Love gives while lust takes. Sin feels thrilling for a time, and then it starts its killing work.

  This ran through his mind as he kissed Shelby deeper and deeper. Something way back in a corner of his heart screamed, Run, get out, open the door and don’t stop moving until you’re in your own room, the door locked behind you. But he couldn’t move anywhere except toward this woman. She was offering herself with no strings. Willing. Open. Rose had been closed to him for so long and here was Shelby, ready and waiting.

  Then all the chemistry onstage spilled into that hotel room. All the teasing and innuendo and side glances, all the brushes Shelby had given him on the plane and as they were in elevators—this was the culmination of all those innocent touches and words and it felt good to Jed to finally be doing something about it. And they were alone.

  What Shelby said in the hallway about guilt made sense. Why not just do what you wanted? Why not act on the ache inside? But there was also a voice off in the distance telling him it wasn’t too late. He could salvage what was left of his integrity . . .

  Who was he kidding? It was too late. With the first kiss he was gone. It was as if he were on the edge of a waterfall and the current was pulling him over and into the depths of the flood.

  Through the night, he had to keep telling himself not to feel guilty. That this was just him searching for life in the middle of all the toil of chasing after a living and a career. And when that didn’t work, he blamed Rose. If she had come with him, this wouldn’t have happened. If she hadn’t said no to him all those times when he ached for her, he wouldn’t have fallen.

  He knew deep down that wasn’t true. It wasn’t her fault. But as the weight of what he had done came down on him, Shelby was there to pull him underwater again.

  Jed awoke with a pounding headache and light in his eyes. He heard the snapping of a medicine bottle in the bathroom and the buzz of a cell phone. Then Shelby appeared in the doorway, wearing a robe with some kind of weird design on the back, like a kimono. Soft and silky. Her face looked different without makeup.

  “Hey,” she said in that little-girl voice. Like she was proud of what they had done. “Good morning.”

  “What time is it?” he said.

  “It is 1:15.”

  Jed threw back the covers and grabbed his pants.

  She sat on the bed and pulled her legs to herself. “You okay?” she said, tossing a cell phone on the bed.

  “Yeah. You?” he said. “You can take that call if you want.”

  She smiled, an emotion on her face he couldn’t decipher. Guilt? But Shelby didn’t live with guilt.

  “Actually, it’s yours. I’m sorry. I grabbed it for you because you left it at the bar and obviously forgot to give it back to you. . . .”

  Jed took the phone and saw multiple calls from Rose. “Whoa,” he said, his heart shrinking. She’d been trying to reach him for hours. She’d been trying all night while he . . .

  “Jed, I’m sorry,” Shelby said. “I feel terrible.”

  “It’s okay; it’s not your fault,” Jed said, forcing a smile. “I should call her back, though.”

  “Yeah.” Shelby nodded her understanding, but the look on her face said she didn’t want him to leave. The look asked him to stay for more of what they’d experienced in the heat of the night.

  Jed grabbed his clothes and opened the door. “See you later, okay?” He looked back at her on the bed, knees drawn to her chest.

  In his room, sitting on a bed he hadn’t slept in, he dialed home and heard Rose’s voice. Fear and pain came through the line.

  “Jed?” she sobbed.

  “Hey,” he said weakly. What did you say to a wife you had betrayed?

  “Where were you?”

  The question stabbed him. He closed his eyes and tried to forget what he had done. Maybe it hadn’t happened. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe he could blame it on the alcohol.

  “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all night.”

  He wanted to tell her something. That he was asleep. He’d fallen into a deep sleep and hadn’t heard the phone. Or that someone had picked up his phone by accident. Maybe that could work. But he had to be careful because covering your tracks with your words was a tricky thing and he didn’t have much experience.

  He sat there listening to her cry, the panic in her voice. At first he wondered if she knew, if she’d awoken from a dream and sensed a shift in the tectonic plates of their marriage.

  “Where have you been, Jed?”

  “Rose, what’s wrong? What happened?”

  “I called your room like fifty times.” And then the sobbing and wailing overcame her and he thought it was about him. He thought their problems had boiled to the surface with her catching him in . . . He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the word.

  “He’s gone, Jed,” Rose said.

  That jolted him back to life. “Who’s gone? What are you talking about?”

  Weeping. Gasping for air.

  “Did something happen to Ray?” He ran a hand through his hair and cursed that he was so far away.

  “No, it’s not Ray. It’s my dad. He’s gone.”

  “How? What happened?”

  And Rose began the story about being at the house with Ray and coming through the vineyard, her dad clutching his chest and falling. Jed closed his eyes and listened. She had been right. His health was failing all this time. But the news suddenly took the pressure off of his “indiscretion” and he interrupted her.

  “Rose, I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay?”

  Her crying stopped. “You’re coming home?”

  “Of course I’m coming home. Let me call Stan and have them get the pilot and the plane ready. I’ll call you from the airport.”

  “Jed, it was terrible. Watching him slip away. And having Ray there.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll get there as fast as I can, okay? Just hold on.”

  Jed tried to sleep on the plane, but when he couldn’t and when the pounding in his head
increased, he asked for a drink. Something hard. Something that would take the edge off the pain.

  Stan was great about the emergency. They’d have to cancel their next few shows, but it was clear Jed needed to get home and be with his family. He wanted to be there, wanted to comfort Rose and be with Ray, but already he was wondering if she’d be able to tell. Did women have some kind of innate ability to decipher unfaithfulness? He wouldn’t fall that way again. He would be resolved never to put himself in that position. It was a one-time thing and nobody had to know.

  The rest of the week was a blur with Rose’s family gathering to say good-bye. They had her father’s viewing at the vineyard instead of the funeral home, and Ray clung to Jed throughout the evening. Staying at the house was what Shep had put in his will, the same way his parents had been viewed. But the whole thing felt awkward, with family members and friends in the community bringing food that would never be eaten and standing around saying things to Rose like “He’s in a better place now” and “God must have needed him more than we did.”

  The paramedics who worked on her dad came and Jed thought that was nice of them. But some others came wanting to see Jed. Fans who wanted to get a look at him close-up. A middle-aged woman made her way through the line and when she got to him, she held out a Sharpie and the memorial page for Shep and whispered, “My daughter is the biggest fan. Could you just sign this for her?”

  Jed’s first reaction was to sign the thing and not make a scene, but the look of horror on Rose’s face made him reach out and put an arm around the woman and lead her to the door. “I don’t think that would be appropriate right now, ma’am. You tell your daughter I’m grateful, though.”

  The woman was apologetic as she walked to the car, then turned and took a picture of Jed standing in the doorway.

  Eddie Edwards also came through the line, paying his respects. He shook Jed’s hand and hugged Rose. “I’m real sorry about your loss. Your dad was a good man.”

  The whole thing surprised Jed but also gave him a little hope that Eddie might have matured in the past few years. Or maybe he thought Rose would be alone and he could comfort her while Jed was on tour. Jed pushed the thought away and focused on Ray. He could tell the boy was getting tired, so he took him upstairs to a spare bedroom to rest.