by Chris Fabry
She picked him up under his arms and tried to move him, but she could only lay him down in the shower. She stood over him, trying to figure out what to do. She’d read of famous singers and film stars who overdosed and a headline flashed through her mind: “Jed King Dies in the Arms of His Forbidden Love.”
“Please talk to me. Please say something!”
For a moment his eyelids fluttered and he opened his mouth. “Rose” was the only word he said.
Shelby reached up and turned on the cold water, letting it cascade over both of them.
Then, wet and dripping, she slipped and slid through the house, found her phone, and dialed 911. She went back to him while on the phone and checked to see if he had a pulse, if he was still breathing. When the paramedics arrived, she felt better because they seemed to know what to do. She tried to help, tried to show them which bottle of pills he had taken, but they pushed her away.
And then the police arrived and the questions began and she didn’t know what to say or how much to tell, but in the end it didn’t matter because the cuffs came out and she was put in a squad car as she watched them wheel Jed to the ambulance.
“Is he going to be all right?” she yelled at the officer. “Is he going to be okay? Please, tell me!”
CHAPTER 46
JED WAS HAVING a hard time telling what was really happening and what he was dreaming or hallucinating. They’d watched some wild animal show on TV together while high, with lions pulling down a defenseless wildebeest, and Jed felt just like that, prey for a cunning lion. Except he had willingly walked into the lion’s lair.
Then he was running from something in the vineyard, something big and hideous. Something that wouldn’t let him go, wouldn’t stop until he was cornered.
He came to the chapel and ran for the open door. And then it was on him, tackling him to the floor, and he thought in the next moment he would feel the teeth of the animal sinking into his neck. He rolled over in time to see not a lion but his father. He was wearing his old headband and the touring clothes Jed remembered from so long ago.
“Jed, stop running,” his father said.
Jed took one look and scooted backward against the wall of the chapel. He looked on in horror at the sight of his dead father.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Jed said to him.
His father looked on him with compassion as if he knew what Jed was going through. “It’s not me you’re running from.”
Jed opened his eyes in the hospital and tried to close them so he could see his dad again. But before he could, he glanced down and saw someone beside him. Her head was on the bed by his bandaged wrist, blonde hair. It was Rose, holding his hand. He moved, thinking it might be a dream, might be more hallucinations, but when he pulled his hand away from her, she stirred and looked at him with something close to relief and love all mixed together.
Jed couldn’t hold her gaze. His chin quivered and his beard shook, his eyes clouding with emotion.
“What would have happened if you would have died, Jed?” Rose said.
“You would have been better off,” he said, choking on the words. “You would have had everything.”
“Jed, what did we have when we first got married? I had everything I needed. But you didn’t. You still don’t. I made mistakes. With us. There’s things I’d . . . I wish I could do over, but I can’t give you whatever it is you’re looking for. No one can.”
Jed heard her voice, but he also heard the heart monitor and felt his skin itching. He needed a drink. He needed a pill. He needed out of there. He wished he had died. He just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.
“When Dad died,” Rose continued, “I realized there’s nothing in this world that won’t go away. Eventually. My only hope is that there’s something bigger than this world.”
“What if it’s a fool’s hope?” he said.
“Then I’ll take it. I’ll take it. If I’m going to raise a son and a daughter on my own, then I need to believe there’s a point.”
Something came alive in him. Like a switch thrown backstage that turned the spotlight on. “A girl?” he said.
There were tears in her eyes. “I found out I’m having a girl.”
“Do you want to raise them on your own?”
“That wasn’t my plan, Jed. I want a man who believes in something bigger than all this. Someone greater than himself.”
Jed stared at the ceiling, trying to think of the right thing to say. Anything.
“That’s not you anymore,” she said. “That man died a long time ago.”
She sat back and Jed glanced at her, seeing the love in her eyes mingle with the pain of all he had dragged her through. He felt shame and sorrow. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak. All those nights singing all those songs, her song, and he couldn’t speak.
“Good-bye, Jed,” Rose whispered.
After she left, Jed saw her rings on the hospital tray, the wedding band and engagement ring he had saved for. He held them in his hands and wept at what he had done, what he had caused.
A day later, Jed heard a knock on the door and his mother walked inside. He pushed himself up in the bed, still clutching Rose’s rings. She kissed him and gave him a hug, a tear falling from her eyes onto his bedsheet.
“It’s been a long time, Son. I’ve tried calling you.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. Life kind of got in the way.”
“The old demons,” she said, rubbing his bandaged hand. “I went by and saw Rose and Ray.”
“How is she?”
“Heartbroken. Betrayed. You’ve done a lot of damage to that girl.”
“I know.”
His mom had aged since he’d last seen her. Wrinkles and baggy eyes. Her hair had turned grayish-white toward the end of his dad’s life and it was still that way.
“Do you think she could . . . ?”
She put a hand to his chest. “There’s only one thing you should think about right now and that’s getting sober. Nothing good can happen if you’re strung out on whatever you’re on.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you going to do about it?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She dug in her purse and pulled out a brochure. “I went by this place on my way over here. They said they could protect your privacy. It’s not cheap. And it’ll be six weeks.”
He studied the redbrick building on the front of the brochure.
“Your dad went there for a while. Really helped him.”
“Sins of the father being passed down, then.”
“Don’t say that,” she said. “You have a choice. Your dad turned his life around with the help of God. You can experience the same thing.”
“I’ll never make up for the hurt I’ve caused.”
She patted the brochure. “One step at a time, Jed. Don’t get ahead of yourself, okay?”
He brought his guitar and what he’d packed for Nashville to the Jefferson Healing Center in Louisville. Just stepped out of the limo and surrendered himself to the indignity of having all his belongings searched—even his guitar. He went with the detox program that gave him three square meals a day and all the counseling he could stand and then some. Pills delivered directly to his table and a nice gray robe and slippers that went with everything.
He had no visitors the first week and they suggested he refrain from calling anyone. At the start of the second week, when the shaking subsided and he didn’t feel like running toward the shrubs to look for something to drink, he thought of calling Rose.
But what would he say? “Hey, Rose, how is everything? You still hate me?”
He was in the dayroom reading a music magazine when he stumbled onto Shelby’s picture. The headline said, “Shelby Bale Given Probation, Agrees to Rehab.”
Pastor Bingham walked in the door and Jed closed the magazine. The man smiled at Jed and shook hands and sat down across from him.
“You gonna preach to me?’” Jed said. “Tell me how big a sinner I am?”<
br />
The pastor shook his head. “No. You don’t need that. You’ve been through enough without me beating you up.”
“I messed up my life, Pastor. I messed everything up.”
Pastor Bingham nodded.
“Is there hope for somebody like me?”
“Depends on how you define hope.”
“Is there hope I could have my marriage back?”
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s on the list.”
“Sounds like a good list,” Pastor Bingham said. “I’m going to hold judgment on that one. I’ve talked with Rose—she’s been to see me and one of the counselors at the church in the past few weeks.”
Jed’s heart leaped. “Did she send you over here?”
“No. She told me you had checked in but she didn’t ask me to visit you. This is about you, not about your marriage.”
“You don’t care about my marriage?”
“I care about your heart. The man you’ve tried to be. The man you’ve become. I want to be here to walk through it with you. But I can’t guarantee what’s on the other side.”
“Doesn’t sound like a lot of hope to me.”
“God offers us hope when we surrender. When we give it over to him. He can take the sin, the struggles, all the pain we have and bring healing to our hearts. To your heart.”
“I don’t think I’m exactly there yet, Pastor.”
“I understand. I’m in this for the long haul, no matter what happens between you and Rose.”
After the pastor left, Jed found a spot outside and sat strumming his guitar, thinking about Rose. In a weak moment he dialed her and heard it ring a few times. He was about to hang up when he heard Ray’s voice.
“Hey, buddy, what are you up to?”
“Working. The grapes will be ready soon.”
“I take it you’re working with your mom. Is she there? Can I talk to her?”
“She’s busy right now,” Ray said.
It sounded like something he’d been told to say. “That’s fine. I just wanted to call and see how you guys were doing. Okay?”
“Do you want to come home? Are you coming to the festival?”
“When is it?” Jed said.
Ray put the phone down and said something Jed couldn’t make out. Then he came back and said, “October 12.”
Just days after their anniversary. And the time of year when they first met. “All right. Count me in.” Emotion gripped him and he ached to talk with Rose, but he knew he couldn’t push it. Patience was better. A little boy stamped his feet and needed to get what he wanted, but a man could wait. A man could show those he loved he could wait.
“Hey, listen, I’m going to let you get back to work, okay? I love you.”
“I love you too,” Ray said.
Though Jed didn’t want it, the counseling continued. After the shakes subsided, he could finally hear what they were saying. He could answer in complete sentences and didn’t just stare. It was humbling being there, being vulnerable, but it was good. He was just another struggling guy with a substance problem. A guy who nearly died from an overdose.
They let him smoke a cigarette or two outside, and that helped calm him. He had given up so much, and he knew nicotine wasn’t good for him. He’d kick that too eventually. He had to.
The counselors were overjoyed that Jed had his guitar and a journal. They told him to fill it up with ideas and thoughts and feelings he was going through. He poured himself out on those pages, asking more questions than finding answers, of course. Why had he made so many bad choices after making so many good ones? Was God punishing him for what he’d done? Was God even there? Would Rose take him back? And what would he do about Shelby?
He knew she had led him down a bad path. Her demons, her problems, had spilled over into his own life. What was it about Shelby that attracted Jed? Was it just her sexuality, the eyes, the hair—the physical package? Was there something else? She had led him down a wrong path, but he had followed willingly like a lamb to the slaughter.
He had blamed Rose. He had made his infidelity her fault and knew that wasn’t fair. Yes, she could have been more open to him, but it was still his choice whether or not he would run toward the forbidden woman.
Late one night after an evening of drinking and carousing, Shelby had told him about her life, what had happened to her as a young girl. How men had used her and that’s what made her feel special. The music was just an extension of all of that—people applauding and cheering gave her the feeling she needed. But she always wondered what it would be like to be with a man who valued her, who would protect her and really love her. It was clear she thought Jed was that man. And at some level he’d been ready to leave Rose and follow her.
Was that why he overdosed? Could his being rushed to the hospital have been God’s way of rescuing him from himself and his choices?
Jed let the thoughts pour out and the more he worked through, the more he saw that he had almost lost everything. He was grasping for something he could never hold. He was chasing after wind.
He wrote down these few words.
Why have everything?
You’re leaving here with nothing.
Can’t take anything because you have to move on.
You were the wise one,
putting your disguise on
Lyin’ to pretend, you’re chasing after wind.
He was working on the chorus of the song one afternoon, smoking one of his last cigarettes, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.
“New song?” someone said.
Jed turned to see Stan Russel in an open-collared shirt and a suit coat.
“Hey, hey!” Stan said, laughing. “What’s happenin’, brother?” He sat on the bench next to Jed. “Very nice. Beautiful place. I’m serious.”
“What do you want, Stan?”
“Maybe I want to come see you, see how you’re doing.”
“Do you?”
Stan gave him a look of recognition, a nod. “Okay. I do want to show you something.” He pulled out a tablet and held the screen up to Jed. “Here, just look at this.”
Stan had a video of their performance in Indianapolis, a grainy, shaky video of Jed grabbing Shelby’s violin and breaking it on the floor of the stage.
Jed turned away from it, feelings of shame and guilt rising up. “Why would you show that to me, Stan?”
“Not the video. Don’t look at the video. Look at the view counts.”
“I don’t care about the view counts.”
Stan cleared his throat. “There’s something here. There’s something here we can build on.” He leaned forward and looked Jed in the eyes. Brow furrowed, sincerity in his expression, but with a little bit of calculation. “It’s a story of redemption.”
“This isn’t redemption. This is exploitation.”
“Just listen,” Stan said. Then, slowly, he began his pitch. “American Roots Music Awards. You and Shelby, if you can put your junk aside for just one second. Let the world see your healthy, redeemed, rehabbed faces on TV. Ready for a comeback.”
As Stan spoke, Jed looked at the pristine grounds of the facility. Every piece of grass clipped. Every detail manicured and managed, just like his life. Except there was no way to manicure what he had made of his life. And he knew this was not the path he needed to go. But Stan did have a point. Maybe it could be used for good. Maybe it could be the start of something healthy.
“When?”
“October 12.”
Jed smiled. “I can’t do it. I have plans.”
Stan sighed like he’d heard this a thousand times. “You can’t do it.”
“I promised Ray.”
“Ray, who is Ray?” Stan said. Then realizing his faux pas, he said, “Ray is your son, of course. Come on, man. You know I love Ray. Hey, you know what? Ray wants to go to college one day. Ray wants his dad to shave and sing and be a rock star.”
Stan was always able to convince Jed he was right because he
usually was. He had that strength, that resolve to go out and get what he wanted, what he could envision. And it was clear that his vision extended to Jed and Shelby now.
He lowered his voice and leaned in so close Jed could see the pupils of his eyes, pinpoint wide. “You understand that this is a second chance? This is a chance to put everything behind you. Rehab. Rose. Your dad.” He let the words hang there and Jed thought of how good it would feel to have the ghosts of the past off his back. All the mistakes, all the junk in the back of the U-Haul just dumped somewhere.
“Are you in?”
Jed tried to clear his mind, turn over another page in the journal. Maybe it would be a good opportunity for him to clear the air. A good chance to see Shelby and apologize. Set things right.
“I promised Ray I would come to the harvest festival that night.”
Stan laughed. “The harvest festival? You’d turn down playing in front of millions of people to play at the harvest festival?”
“I’m not playing there. I’m going to spend time with my son and my wife.”
“Man, you need to move on. You think she’s going to take you back after what you did to her?”
“I don’t know if she will. But even if she doesn’t, I want to be there for my son.”
“The show has to start early because of the Eastern time zone crowd. You and Shelby are on early. Do two songs and you can get on the road and be at the vineyard before the moon rises.”
“I want to do a new song.”
“That’s cool. The one you were working on when I walked up?”
“Yeah. It’s called ‘Chasing after the Wind.’”
“Great. Get me a CD of it and I’ll get the band together.”
“What about Shelby? Is she okay?”
“She’s doing good. Just like you. She looks good. Clean, you know? She’ll be really excited to do this with you.”
“She will be or she is? Have you talked with her?”
“Just a quick conversation. She’s on board. What do you say, Jed?”
CHAPTER 47