AT 29

by D. P. Macbeth

  Cindy debated what to do. Fifteen minutes before curtain time and no sign of Blossom’s boss. This was his night. He should be here. She looked at the crowd slowly pushing its way inside. Should she join the line before it’s too late? No, if Miles didn’t come she couldn’t bear sitting next to his empty seat. Without him there was no reason to think she could enjoy the evening. She’d wait and watch.

  Ten minutes before the eight o’clock start Les leaned forward in her seat, surveying the crowd. Nearly all but two front row seats were filled. She wondered who the two tardy patrons might be, certainly celebrities of some sort. Probably planning a grand entrance. The air was filled with anticipation. It had been a long time since she took in a New York show, never during the holidays when the city’s biggest names pulled out all the stops to look handsome and beautiful. There was electricity in the air, gaiety, too. This was the Christmas season in Manhattan. Everyone was ready for a good time.

  Ellis watched from the door as Jimmy helped Kate to her feet. Weak Knees had already hustled into the corridor toward the stage. The members of Rebellion huddled a few feet away, debating what to do if their lead singer couldn’t perform. There were several cuts that did not feature her vocals, but they weren’t what the audience expected. Kate was the draw and they all knew it.

  “Jimmy, I’m sorry.” Kate’s eyes still brimmed with tears. “I’m ruining your night.”

  “Nothing’s being ruined,” he said, firmly. “Everyone has a case of nerves now and then.”

  “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “It’s going to be all right.”

  “Mr. McCabe will be mad.”

  “Rebellion can handle one performance without you. Stop worrying.”

  “I don’t understand why this is happening. I’ve done so many shows before.”

  “Can you walk?”

  “Maybe. The heaves have stopped.”

  “Let’s go look at the crowd.” He took her arm and nodded to Ellis who opened the door and watched them go by. They walked through the corridor, ignoring the curious looks of the stagehands milling about. At the end of the corridor a fire door stood slightly ajar. On the other side, a stairway led up two flights to the upper balcony. They climbed the stairs, Kate gripping Jimmy’s arm more tightly as the sound of the audience grew louder. At the top step he opened another door and they came out behind the rows of the packed third balcony. No one turned to look at them as they gazed out at the full theater. Jimmy took her hand in his. He pointed down at the orchestra section.

  “Typical crowd,” he said, inviting her to look down.

  “It’s The Beacon.” Kate answered, shaking.

  “No, I mean the people, the stage, the noise.”

  “It’s New York.”

  “That’s right, but just people, like anywhere else.”

  “Better dressed.” Jimmy decided that Kate was stubborn.

  “People just the same.”

  “Not as big as the colleges we just played.”

  “There you go. Just like any other.”

  She tightened her grip on his arm. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “What’s that?”

  She smiled. “Trying to help me relax.”

  “Where you are tonight does not change who you are. You’re still the lead singer of Rebellion, still the same Kate who knocked them dead at Chapel Hill.”

  “I’m so scared. What if I bomb?”

  “Did you become a different person when you came through the door?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe you can’t sing tonight, but whatever happens I promise you’ll still be Kate when the night is over. You’ll still be Kate when Rebellion goes on its next tour. And, I promise you’ll still be the one sharing the stage with me.”

  The lights blinked, summoning the last stragglers into the theater. Something compelled Les to turn her head just as two figures, a man and a woman, hurried through the side door to her right. A warm feeling came over her as she turned her eyes back to the stage.

  Miles arrived just as the lights blinked for the final time. Cindy breathed a sigh of relief and raised her hand to catch his eye. He stopped in his tracks when he saw her, as beautiful as any woman he’d ever seen. For a moment he stared, unable to move. Then he came back to reality and went to her side. They hurried inside without a word.

  The lights went down as the curtains opened to gracious applause. This was not the type of crowd that exploded with youthful enthusiasm. It was a sophisticated audience, some of whom were only there to be seen, others bewitched by the Christmas season and enthralled to be attending a show at The Beacon. Yet, there were plenty of aficionados, steeped in the music of Jimmy Button and ready to accept the newer Jim Buckman. Sprinkled among them was an A-list of judges who would soon be making their Grammy nominations.

  Jimmy escorted Kate back to the dressing room. Her color was back and she was regaining her strength. She went directly to where the rest of Rebellion was huddled in the corner. An animated conversation soon developed.

  “What gives?” Ellis asked.

  “We’ll see.”

  There was no opportunity to talk as Miles and Cindy settled into their seats. Weak Knees took center stage, opening with a jaunty rendition of its signature song. Cindy could not help but glance at her boss, wondering what it was that had changed him so abruptly in the last few days. After the show a small party was planned before everyone went their separate ways for the holidays. She wondered where Miles might be going. Did he have family? Her sister expected her for Christmas in Connecticut, but suddenly she had second thoughts. She knew she’d be thinking about him. Maybe she could make him open up at intermission, certainly at the party after the show. If he needed her, she would stay behind. Her sister could get by without her.

  Kate beckoned Ellis and Jimmy. In a complete reversal from the previous hour, she was all business.

  “I’m in. Sorry for all the drama.”

  Ellis nodded, relieved. Jimmy squeezed her hand then turned his attention to Sonny and Ted who were taking their instruments from their cases at the other side of the room. Benson stood nearby with drumsticks in hand. Chase slipped out of the room as Jimmy approached.

  “We’re good to go.” Jimmy said.

  During Rebellion’s set Kate showed no sign that anything was wrong. In fact, nothing was wrong. She belted out three songs that brought the audience to its feet. Miles had not seen her live. He sat forward then stood applauding with everyone else as the wheels ran fast in his head. Kate had far more promise than he realized. He almost forgot his troubles as he gave Cindy a knowing look. Then he realized that she had been staring at him all along.

  Les stood with all the others. This British girl with the Joplin vocals was an unexpected treat. For an instant, Nigel flashed in her mind. Kate’s voice was a perfect match for his. She wondered if Jimmy heard it, too. ‘Jimmy, Jimmy, I can’t wait!’

  The fifteen-minute intermission gave Cindy a chance to size up Miles. She made small talk, peppering idle comments with innocent questions. Did heavy traffic cause your delay? Wasn’t Kate terrific? What are your plans for Christmas? He parried them all with limited responses that told her nothing. Then the lights went down for the start of act two.

  The group arrayed on the stage of the Beacon Theatre to perform Back and Blue had no inkling that this was an audition. The spirited applause that greeted them from the packed house was the same they’d heard before. The people seated throughout the three-tiered structure looked the same as the audiences they had entertained over the previous three months, albeit more finely dressed. But each player knew they were in the Beacon. They knew this was special, because it was New York and the venue was legendary. Each one was proud to be there.

  Jimmy sat center stage on a stool with the Gibson nestled in his arms. On his right and left respectively, sat Sonny with his Stratocaster and Eugene on bass. A step behind and to the right, Ted stood with his harmonica, a long cord running along
the floor to the sound system. Melinda was positioned far left at the keyboards nearest to Benson and his drums. What followed for the next forty-five minutes was a smooth harmony of vocals and instrumentation that enchanted the building. Absent was the hard rock that might have found a home in a wilder moment. In its place was the epitome of disciplined excellence. Each song engaged the audience in shared emotion from joy to serene calm, ending, at last, with Peg, just as the listeners expected; happy, hopeful, thankful and, most of all, blissful, in the spirit of the holiday soon to arrive. Grammy nominations for Jimmy, his band, Back and Blue and Peg were sealed.

  As the performance came to a close, Les stood with everyone else. She gazed down at her love so consumed with the need to drink in his presence that a prayer formed, one she did not consciously summon. It came softly to her lips as the applause grew louder all around. ‘Thank you for bringing him near.’

  Jimmy nodded to the standing ovation, making sure to point to each member of his band for recognition. He let his eyes wander among the rows and up to the balconies. He searched the faces, not knowing why. Several times, he looked deep into the shadows of the third balcony, squinting to make things clearer. Then, as the curtains slowly closed, he stepped back, momentarily conscious of the only person who could make the night complete.

  The getaway party was a small affair backstage where the bands gathered with Blossom’s cadre of leaders and a few friends to bid one another farewell for two weeks. Alice, Marsha, Mike Winfield, Loren Phillips and her husband joined the pleasant occasion along with several reporters who milled about in hopes of a few comments.

  Miles spent a short time talking with Winfield while Cindy drifted through the room; stopping to talk with everyone, making sure no one was left out. Champagne flutes were filled in every hand. Benson engaged Alice in deep conversation. Jimmy stayed close to Sonny and Marsha until it became clear that they were in a world of their own. He sidled over to Kate who came into his arms with a hug, “Thank-you.” Ted and Melinda held hands in the corner. Cindy had her back to the door. She did not see Miles make his early exit.

  Fifty

  In the morning, the Brits caught flights to London. Cindy drove to her sister’s house in Connecticut. Jimmy drove Ted to Hartford and continued on to Vermont. Sonny stayed in New York at Marsha’s place. That night she took him home to meet her mother in Brooklyn. Mike Winfield spent Christmas Eve with his daughters; the relationship with his ex-wife thawed just enough to let him stay the night. Miles hunkered down in his bungalow in Millburn.

  Christmas Eve in Barton proved to be everything that Peggy promised. Alice and Charlene were excited beyond control. By their normal bedtimes, Peggy and Joe gave up trying to settle them down. Hillary and Red brought the wine and lots of it. The Nutcracker played on the stereo. Alice arrived late as was her habit, but she had a car full of presents mostly for her nieces. Everyone, including the little girls, helped her cart them into the farmhouse. Then, in a last ditch effort to wear the little ones out, they all donned coats and boots and trudged out into the frosty night for a walk in the snow. When they returned, Hillary gathered the family near the fireplace and, with both granddaughters in her lap, read ‘The Night Before Christmas’. For Jimmy it was delightful. He was happy.

  Christmas Day was filled with all that could be expected from excited children opening presents under the tree. Breakfast followed with constant chatter and laughter. A long hillside bordered the barn. Jimmy took the girls sledding with Joe while Peggy and Alice cleaned up and began preparations for the mid-afternoon feast. Red fell asleep in a chair by the fire. Hillary slipped across the field to her house to get more wine for dinner. As they waited at the top of the hill for the girls to climb back up from a run, Joe opened up.

  “That’s some song you wrote for my wife.”

  Jimmy eyed Joe. “In the spirit of friendship. I hope you understand.”

  “It’s nice to know someone else sees her the way I do. From the minute I laid eyes on her, never a doubt. It’s the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard. I want to thank-you for doing that for her and for me and my girls.” He nodded at his daughters climbing the hill. “Sometimes you can’t teach them the regular way. Sometimes a song or a poem says it better. Clearer, you know what I mean?”

  By four o’clock everyone was suitably stuffed and exhausted. Alice and Charlene played with their new toys while the adults sat around the fire, half asleep. Jimmy thought about his getaway. Peggy’s invitation was open-ended, but he never planned to stay. He was neither tired nor anxious to return to New York. He wanted to go home to Chillingham. He had no particular plan except to spend some time alone to re-charge. Peggy watched him as he went into the guestroom to gather his things. In a few minutes he emerged with his overnight bag. She nudged Joe and they stood, gathered the girls and accompanied him out onto the porch. The good-byes were warm and deeply felt. Peggy held her friend tight then watched him climb into his car and drive off.

  It began to snow at White River Junction, growing heavier as the miles slowly passed. Jimmy didn’t mind. Traffic was light on Christmas night. He exited Route 89 just north of Concord and picked up Route 93 heading south. The plows did a good job. By Manchester the storm was over and the wind picked up, ushering in colder air that drove the clouds from the sky. The night was dark, but the fresh white powder, reflecting the lights of the highway, brightened everything around. On the Everett Turnpike, leading to Nashua, he spotted the exit he was looking for. He turned onto route 101A heading west. Amherst was seven miles down the road.

  Les loved her hometown in winter. Amherst, New Hampshire was everything envisioned by Norman Rockwell when he painted a New England village. Founded in the early 1700’s, and named after British General, Lord Jeffrey Amherst of the French and Indian War, the town had taken on a quaint image that carried on, seemingly untouched through the centuries. Franklin Pierce, the nation’s fourteenth president, studied law and was married in a stately home just off the village green. Following World War II, wealthy professionals from Boston began to migrate north, soon making the town home for later generations. Les’ father was one of these. Her childhood home was an attractive Victorian house midway along an old carriage road bordering the village green that was the very image of a beautiful country lane. At the edge of the green stood a giant blue spruce, now brightly decorated with Christmas lights. The snow had stopped. Les looked out the window and debated what to do. Her parents were preparing to retire, but she wasn’t sleepy. Thoughts of Jimmy filled her with restlessness. Chillingham was only twenty miles south. Maybe he was there. She shook her head, time to take a walk.

  Two hundred miles south in Connecticut, Cindy was equally restless. Miles left her at the Beacon without saying good-bye, without saying anything really. Had they not shared dinners together for months? Had they not spoken of everything from work to personal concerns? Had he not held her hand once or twice in that way that meant something special? Now, he’d run off without a word at the most joyous time of the year, that time when people come together. Where are you, Miles? What’s wrong? She was angry with him.

  Christmas was spent quietly with her sister and brother-in-law in New Canaan. Several times during the day she called Miles at home only to hear the same disconnect recording. She tried the office in Millburn although she could not imagine him at his desk. Maybe he was with relatives somewhere. Finally, at nine p.m. she could stand it no longer. She made her apologies, mentioning something about needing to get back to the city. She didn’t go home. She could not be alone until she knew what had become of Miles. She stayed on Route 95 through the Bronx and onto the George Washington Bridge to New Jersey. By ten-thirty she was in Millburn.

  Jimmy knew his quest was useless. He didn’t even know where her parents lived. Neither did he know if Les would be there. Didn’t she say her returns to America alternated between Christmas and Easter? He sighed. Les, I wish you were beside me here and now. He could go straight home, but what would he do t
hen? Merely turn up the heat and think about her. That would come soon enough. For now, he was free to see the town where she grew up, so close to his own childhood home.

  Miles sat in front of the television in a robe and slippers. He was on his third Jack Daniels, nearing the point of carefree inebriation he’d been seeking. He was dissatisfied with his behavior at the theater. He should have been more polite. At the very least he should have wished Cindy a Merry Christmas. She deserved better, no matter what worried him, no matter how dire his present circumstances. He lost interest in the old rerun on the screen, turned off the set and went into the tiny kitchen. Through the window he saw the lights of a car winding into the parking lot. He watched for a moment then turned back to look for something to eat in the refrigerator. Someone made a wrong turn. What to make?

  The wind blew cold. The trees on either side of the carriage road swayed in the breeze with puffs of snow occasionally falling to the ground from the bent boughs, suddenly unburdened and springing back into position. Les loved the first hours after a snowstorm. The air was clean and sweet, the night sky burst with the radiance of thousands of stars. In the distance the village green came into view, marked by the towering spruce with colored lights twinkling in the wind. Despite the rustling, all was still on the ground. The snow, so fresh and white, made her happy to be home.