Free to Breathe

by K. Shandwick

  Maggie smiled at the kids then glanced back to me, “Guess that’s settled then. I’ll ask Kathleen to manage the kids and I’ll call your mom,” she said not waiting for me to reply. “Don’t worry there’s plenty of food in the pantry and fridges,” she added, like I’d even thought about that.

  I knew it was pointless trying to get anything else done that day and if I was honest I’d say I was more than a little apprehensive that the song had gone to the heights that it had. It was the fifty-first song I’d written but a first in country music for me.

  Fr8Load were used to topping the charts with songs I had penned but “Free to Breathe” was one I had not intended to write—had never thought myself capable of writing. However, the words had flowed with no effort at all and once I’d begun, the raw emotion of the story just came to me.

  It was very different from anything else I’d ever written, like a story unfolding in my head. I relived every scene as I wrote it. It was the story of my sad lonely life as a singer in a band and the only music that appeared to fit and give it the right vibe was a mournful catchy tune that was so full of misery it tugged at your heartstrings.

  Normally when I wrote a song, the lyrics spoke for themselves, but with “Free to Breathe” it was different because instead of clever rhymes the words were the story of my personal, sometimes agonizing, journey.

  I’d never written anything like it—where a song played like a movie inside my head. It was a painful exercise because it made me relive some of my darker experiences in life.

  Writing it really affected me as I tapped into my emotions and I became somewhat withdrawn and difficult to live with.

  Several times Maggie almost tore me a new one for my mood swings. Then there were times when she wondered if I missed the band. I put her straight on that account, it was the one decision I was one hundred percent certain I had gotten right.

  During that time, she became suspicious and thought perhaps I had been getting emails or other communication that had sunk my mood. I’m not sure she believed me at first when I had nothing to say, until I realized the words of the song had dragged me down.

  Recounting the unjust treatment I’d experienced had still been able to affect me. It was only after I set it to the emotional catchy country tune that I realized the full effect of the song because I struggled to finish it when my emotions suddenly engulfed me.

  For a while I saw it as a therapeutic outpouring and almost shelved it, but then I sang it to Maggie because I felt it explained why I’d been so down; she was also overwhelmed and pleaded with me to share it with the world. Her reaction was the most animated I’d ever encountered for my music and it changed my mind about sharing it with others.

  Junior Sweetman was a massive country music star and the only person I could trust to sing it the way it was intended, and to Maggie’s mind he was the only country artist that could sing the song that way and do it justice were I to release it. His reputation was solid as a family man and a much-respected artist and I appreciated that fact.

  It was a bold move for someone like me—a hard rocker—to write a country tune; even if it wasn’t intended, and an even bolder one to approach the management of, in my view, the greatest country artist of the century to sing it.

  Being at the top of the food chain as the front man in a band did not mean the same thing as being in the food chain at all when it came to songwriting. Sure, I had a reputation as a good singer/songwriter but that was in the rock music genre. Country music was a whole other ball game. Added to that was the pressure I felt from the media’s reaction if I’d called it wrong.

  For weeks I mulled over Phil’s request to send a demo tape. It was the one thing I loved about my brother, he was pushy, but he never took it upon himself to do anything without consultation. In the past, with anyone else my opinion hadn’t mattered, bucks did. However, neither Maggie nor Phil put pressure on me because they both accepted I had to be master of my own destiny.

  It was an unexpected visit from George that changed my mind about “Free to Breathe”. I’d been writing for George for his second album when he made a social call and naturally the topic came up about the country song I’d written. Phil began to spout off at the mouth about how awesome it was and after some persuasion I had reluctantly agreed to play it for him.

  We’d done some insane shit together, yet I had felt shy about sharing the song—especially as the subject matter was very personal to me—and I wondered if George would think I’d flipped or been whipped, or both. It truly was that deep. I didn’t even stay in the room while he listened to the track.

  “Where is he?” George called out. His voice had an urgency to it as he bounded down the hallway to the kitchen. “Fuck me!”

  “George… the kids,” scolded Maggie as she followed him into the kitchen.

  “Oh, sorry,” he cringed, “You gotta get that out there, dude, it’s fucking brilliant. Nothing like anything you’ve done before and even better,” he gushed, his hands up to accentuate what he said.

  I watched his expression to look for the truth and the gleam in his eyes told me he thought it was a winner. George was a ‘no bullshit’ kinda guy, and I knew he’d never let me take a punt unless he believed in me.

  “You’re with them? My fan club of two on this?”

  “It would be a travesty if no one heard it, buddy. It’s a once in a lifetime song.”

  My eyes flicked between his and Maggie’s and a smile crept onto her face, “I may not know anything about music, Noah, but trust me I’d want that on my playlist if I was feeling a sense of melancholy about life.”

  I stood in silent contemplation and my nerves almost ate me alive because if it went wrong the press would hound me down and the last thing on this Earth I wanted was to be subjected to their attention again.

  Life had been sedately beautiful since I’d left the band. But I had to decide whether they controlled me, or it was the other way around.

  “All right, but be prepared for a knockback. The only person who can sing this song is Junior Sweetman.”

  George ran past me down the hall to where Phil was sitting in my little home studio. “He’s going for it; quick get the demo tape over to Sweetman’s management before he changes his mind.”

  I smiled knowingly at Maggie, because like she said, even though she knew nothing about music, she believed in me… and that was worth any teardown the press may deliver.

  Phil sent the track off by email and we waited. George said he wouldn’t leave until he heard their reply… I told him that could be weeks and he shrugged it off. “No fucking way. You send a tape they’ll listen as soon as they see your name. They’re gonna piss their pants with excitement when they’ve heard it,” he replied with a level of confidence I never felt.

  Maggie made lunch and was clearing away when Phil’s cell rang. Taking his weight on one butt cheek he reached into his front pocket and pulled it out.

  “It’s them,” he said, smirked secretly to himself, then took a deep breath and calmly answered.

  “Haxby NP Recording Studios, Phil Haxby speaking,” he said sounding much more official than we really were.

  Everyone watched him as he listened intently to the call then he gave us the thumbs up and a huge toothy grin. George punched the air looking ecstatic, then mouthed, “Told you.”

  “Ah, I’m happy you like it. We love the song and know it’ll be a massive hit, but I think It’s only fair to warn you we offered to two other parties we thought may be interested as well. The response has been overwhelming, so I guess it’s down to the figures for the best deal and royalty rights.”

  A further period of silence ensued as Phil listened carefully then he did a silent jig, “All right. Thank you for your interest. Noah is in the studio now. I’ll speak with him and get back to you as soon as I have an answer for you.”

  After concluding the call, he threw his head back and chuckled. “Junior Sweetman wants to donate his right nut for the song… and i
s willing to negotiate your package.”

  “Doing a song contract is one thing, Phil, but I think Maggie would have something to say if you started to offer Noah’s package as part of the deal,” George added when his head went straight to the gutter at the first opportunity.

  Maggie shook her head, “Ha! Next you’ll be dragging out toilet humor jokes,” she said in a patronizing way.

  Phil and I talked numbers then he followed through with his game plan, pushing hard for the best deal for the upfront fee and my royalties from the sales. Junior asked to meet with me, and Phil quickly and politely shut him down by offering a conference call because since leaving the band it had been my wish to lead a purely private life.

  That part was true, talking to someone on the phone or over the internet was fine by me but I drew the line at meeting another celebrity in public. I’d made it my mission not to court that kind of attention.

  Phil then put Junior on speaker-phone so we could hear everything he said and the man damn near had an orgasm when Phil said the song was his to record. And since it sounds like the tune has found great success, I guess it put my rock career to bed and eased my path to that of songwriter and producer for other artists.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Maggie

  After the court hearing I had a hundred conflicting feelings swimming in my head. Shock, denial, and disbelief were the ones that consistently repeated at the news we heard from the court. The day the emails arrived replayed over and over, in particular my reaction to the possibility of Noah’s relationship to Molly.

  When the judge disclosed the results, I may have looked quiet and calm—I had no choice except to portray that exterior for Noah’s sake—but inside my head I had hundreds of unanswered questions: images of Shona at various stages of her pregnancy, at Molly’s birth, and over the years since. For years I had pressed her about who the father was and every time Shona had responded with, “What does it matter? He’d probably deny her anyway, and I don’t want her growing up feeling rejected.”

  It was the one thing I remained angry with her about after she died. I should have been angry about the emails, but they were never intended for me to see, so who knew, she could lied to make her life sound more interesting to someone she obviously thought she’d never see again.

  Her damning disclosure had almost wrecked Noah and I as a couple, but after the result from the test I had put her ambiguous emails to one side for the sake of Noah and the children. From that point onward not having a definitive answer to the question about her and Noah was something I’d learned to live with. It wasn’t like she was coming back… or that he’d remembered being with her if he had.

  I wasn’t blind, I knew they had met from the picture her friend had shared with the world, but that was the only piece of evidence that was undeniable. If her friend was with her and Shona believed it was Noah’s then I had to entertain the possibility that they may have slept together.

  I had to balance that information with the woman Shona was and if she had lied about Noah being Molly’s father then it was possible the whole emails about sleeping with him were a fabrication of her mind. Not to speak ill of my dead sister, but Shona had always been a fantasist, and she was fanatical about Noah. Whatever the truth was, sometimes not knowing was better.

  Leaving Fr8Load was the best thing Noah could have done for his emotional health. From the moment he made the decision, I saw tension I never knew he had within him ebb away. In the early days of him quitting, I had huge concerns he’d taken a knee jerk reaction because of how the media had treated him.

  It made me want to know how deeply rooted the issues went, so I went back and read about the man I was with and I poured over every article I could get my hands on. I concluded with absolute certainty the reporting around him had been written with a biased slant aimed at causing the maximum shock value to the reader.

  Many argue that public figures have no right to privacy, that they court the attention of the press, and in the early part of his career that was certainly true of Noah. However, the media should have been responsible and reported information to the public about when he was on the clock instead of stalking him in his private life.

  From everything I had read— the good and the bad, I believed the public had been sold a damaging version of Noah that most certainly wasn’t true of the man that I had come to love.

  Having been on the receiving end of their malice a couple of times due to the stories they ran about us, I was surprised Noah was as balanced as he was. He put that down to the calming effect I had on him, but personally I thought he was very young when all the bad things happened and by the time he’d met me, he’d grown up. As soon as the media turned on me it made me understand how they twisted information and bent the truth just far enough to stop short of a lawsuit.

  Like Noah, I had no respect for them after that. My dad used to say, “Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.” I had thought him a cynic when he told me that; however, since knowing Noah, I wished more people could have benefited from that advice.

  Another saying I’d heard repeatedly was, “Never judge a book by its cover.” I had always thought myself as a fairly liberal, non-judgmental person, until I learned how a biased opinion based on the hearsay of others could impact so negatively someone’s life. I had judged Noah the same way as most before I knew who he really was.

  Everyone knows that beast called rumor wasn’t an easy thing to tame. Even an eminent judge was swayed when Andrea was granted a restraining order to block Noah from seeing his son. It taught me how full of humility Noah was when he still managed to be cordial with her for the sake of his son. I’d never met someone as fair as Noah, he never harbored a tiny grudge toward his ex-girlfriend once Rudi was in his life… at least not outwardly from how he behaved. I was humbled by his approach.

  Andrea wasn’t an easy person to communicate with as I found out when I answered the phone the first time Rudi was staying over at our place. If I said I hadn’t been a little concerned about Rudi joining us as part of the family for every other week it would have been untrue. Not because I didn’t want him with us… of course I did. I only wanted everyone to be happy.

  My worries were borne from a lack of information from Andrea. Neither Noah nor I really knew his routines, and he appeared to be a very quiet little boy in comparison to Molly. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel overwhelmed and I didn’t want Molly to become attached and then pine on the weeks he was with his mom. Above all, I was concerned about all the changes Molly had already dealt with on top of the separation and loss of Shona.

  Despite Andrea’s attempts to control all aspects of Rudi’s every waking moment during his first few visits, with constant calls to him with urgent questions that couldn’t wait; I’m pleased to say that Rudi integrated without a hitch. He and Molly clicked within minutes, and they were both very caring toward their brother George.

  Rudi’s reservations at the beginning were quickly replaced with a newfound confidence when Molly offered praise and high-fives for every little achievement from remembering to wash his hands before dinner to much bigger achievements like when he scored a home run at softball.

  The two older kids became inseparable, and I was pleased that Rudi made no fuss about returning for the weeks with his mom. Molly didn’t like it much, but she accepted it as a normal part of our routine. Even Andrea began to accept that Noah was good for Rudi, but I knew we’d never be friends because of the look of longing still there in her eyes. I never regarded her as a threat because Noah barely gave her eye contact. His ex would never be anything more than Rudi’s mother to Noah and as far as he was concerned the only reason they breathed the same air was because they shared a son.

  Watching Rudi blossom under Noah’s fatherly guidance and Molly’s bossy ways had been one of the most rewarding parts of my journey in our family life and every day that passed I watched Noah’s love grow for of all our kids. He was a funny, compassionat
e, understanding, and fair father and he had the measure of each of our children’s strengths and weaknesses. He was a natural when it came to understanding what each of them needed.

  Having found a balance in his life was everything to Noah and because of this he always ensured we had our special time as a couple as well. He never ceased to amaze me with his little romantic surprises when I least expected them. Funny and attentive were two of the sexiest traits I’d ever found in a man and Noah had the whole skill-set to make me feel like the luckiest woman alive. He kept me on my toes with his wicked, playful ways as well as curling them whenever we had the time.

  One of the most important surprises was when Noah arranged a train ride for the kids. It was the sole topic of conversation for weeks after Rudi had asked several times if they could do it as a treat. After speaking to Phil and another brother David to make some covert arrangements, the birthday treat was set for Rudi for the following week.

  Andrea tried to manipulate the situation by asking for Rudi for half of the day and Noah understood more than anyone how it felt not to see him on his birthday, so he compromised and told her Rudi would be home to spend the night with her from around 6:00 pm. As Noah said, a child should get to spend time with his father and his mother on his birthday… pity Noah’s insight had never occurred to Andrea to let Noah see his son.

  The trip to the train station involved leaving home in the dead of night and I wasn’t happy that the kids routines were being disrupted because of Noah’s paranoia over the press. Goodness knows how I managed to keep my thoughts to myself when Rudi’s birthday treat involved pulling my sleeping children from their beds.

  We set off for New York City at 3:00 am, with three tired, grumpy kids but their tetchy moods dispersed when we arrived at the train station and were met by a magnificent vintage Pullman train with all the guards in authentic uniforms from the Victorian period.