Maggie's Refrain

by Marcia Ware

  “You came,” Maggie said. The light in her eyes was impossible to hide.

  “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Joe replied.

  “Maggie,” a reporter shouted. “Is that your boyfriend?”

  She turned in the direction of the media. Cameras of all forms continued to capture the moment, including that of the crew from CMT. Whispering to the segment director, a man holding a bulky camera on his shoulder asked, “Are we supposed to be recording this?”

  “Absolutely,” Lanie whispered from behind them. “Do not stop rolling.”

  In the crush of the crowd, no one could see Joe take Maggie’s hand in his. “Knock ‘em dead, kiddo,” he whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  Still silent, a slow, somewhat enigmatic smile swept across Maggie’s face. Relishing her newfound power, Maggie simply said, “Enjoy the show, everyone.”

  Maggie stood in the center of the empty platform. In the silence of the now vacated hall, she could feel everything: The beat of the music, the love of the crowd, the emotions that flowed from her to the audience and back during the four-minute standing ovation. Drawing in a breath, she closed her eyes and savored every second.

  From the moment she took the stage, Maggie was in command. Gracious and fun with her veteran guests, solid when she sang solo; even conducting a choir, there wasn’t a moment where she was not completely at the top of her game.

  The soft whir of a vacuum purred in the distance, while the cleaning crews stacked chairs, dismantled tables, and bagged trash. Gone were the flowers and fancy decorations; the lights, the cameras, the microphones, even her beautiful Steinway baby grand. Standing beneath a solitary light, Maggie marveled at how quickly everything could be taken down and put away after such a meticulous set up.

  Grace returned to her memory. That was most certainly a meticulous set up. Years and years of friendship; laughter, tears, good times - and the occasional spat over something silly and unimportant. A good life with her best friend…taken down and quickly put away by one drunk driver.

  She considered the career that waited before her. The dive bars, the seemingly endless road trips and tours, stingy club owners who paid her less than what she was worth; flaky musicians who would cancel on her at the last minute. They were all part of the meticulous set up. But like many of her peers and heroes before her, one failed album, one bad business decision, one substance abuse problem could cause a career to be taken down and quickly put away.

  All her life, she’d allowed others to define her. She didn’t mind being known as Grace’s best friend. She stayed with Richard because she didn’t feel as though anyone else would have her. She settled for a role in the background because of a handful of opinions that said that was where she belonged.

  But right now, in this moment, Maggie West began to understand, that those things were all part of the ultimate set up. The ache of missing Grace would never fully subside, and she’d miss the camaraderie of the Timmons band, but coursing through her veins was a new power, a new resolve. She’d survived the damaging, juvenile relationship she had with Richard. She could make it. She would make it. She proved it to Nashville, and now Maggie West was ready to take on the world. Until tonight however, she was prepared to do it all on her own.

  But Joe was there. He had come. She didn’t have to beg. She’d been brave enough to actually let that dream go. And there he was, of his own volition.

  She looked at the spot on the floor where his chair had been. Where he sat with pride in his eyes and a smile on his perfect lips, shedding a tear during the song she’d written about Grace; spellbound when he heard the finished version of the song she’d written for him, clapping along to the pounding rhythms of the triumphant gospel-choir finale. Cheering for her, perhaps louder than anyone in the audience.

  Maggie flexed the fingers on the hand he’d held backstage, remembering how his strength intertwined with hers. As she brought her hands up to her face, she promised herself that if given the chance, she would pour more of herself into every set up, lest it all be taken down and quickly put away.

  Suddenly, a voice cut through the darkness.

  “Share your life with me, Maggie.”

  Maggie turned to see Joe emerge from the shadows.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been laying low. Thought I’d spare us both the press attention.”

  Maggie walked toward him. “Well, you’ve become media savvy all of a sudden,” she quipped.

  “Hey, you’re getting us off the subject,” Joe said.

  “And that was?”

  “Your life,” Joe said, suddenly serious. “You have an amazing, spectacular life. You bring light into every room you enter, and you make my crazy world so peaceful.” He reached up and touched her face. “Your beauty comes from the inside out. It always has.”

  Joe narrowed his gaze and looked at Maggie with a directness that made her knees give way. “I am so sorry for everything. The misunderstandings, the distance between us, for being the big ol’ wimp that I am.”

  Maggie began to speak, but Joe gently placed a finger on her lips. “Shh. Let me finish. You’ve been on your way for quite some time, kid. But you can’t do this alone. You need backup from the folks you love, and from the folks who love you.”

  Maggie’s eyes widened as Joe got down on one knee. “I am one of those folks. I love you.”

  Laughter came through the tears that had begun to spring from Maggie’s eyes as Joe went on.

  “You, Mary Margaret West, have become the love of my life. I don’t ever want to let you down again. In the time we’ve been apart, I have learned one very important truth: I am at my best when I am with you, and I don’t function at all without you.”

  “Umm…That’s actually two important truths,” she cracked.

  “Smart-aleck,” he said, grimacing. “You’ve always kept me on my toes. I wanna keep it that way. So, I’m gonna say it again. Share your life with me.”

  The room had come to a standstill. The cleaning crew had taken notice of the exchange and ceased their activity. Lenore and Darla hid in a darkened doorway, clutching hands in anticipation.

  “Okay, you’re killing me here, West,” Joe pleaded as she remained silent. “That’s the best proposal I’ve got.”

  Slowly, Maggie got down on her own knee and laced her fingers through his. “That’s the only proposal I need,” she said. “I love you too.”

  Chapter 17

  The headline read: Grammy-Winning Songstress to Wed University Scholar in Lavish Star-Studded Affair at Ryman Auditorium.

  “Who knew you were a scholar?” Declan joked as he dropped the newspaper in front of Joe.

  Finishing his coffee, Joe chuckled. “Just one of my many, many talents,” he said.

  Declan was unimpressed. “Okay, Mr. Multi-talent, time to suit up,” he said as he handed Joe his tuxedo.

  “Well, this has been quite a year,” Declan went on as he poured his own coffee down the sink. “Does it feel weird?”

  “You mean the fact that you’re my best man? Again?”

  “Well, yeah…that. And exactly who it is you are marrying.”

  Joe contemplated the question for a moment. “No. I mean, I can see how it could be strange,” he said.

  “I hate to say it, but this is a double dose of strange in my book.”

  Declan’s statement caught Joe off guard. “Please don’t tell me, today of all days, that you’re bugged by this. Because after everything we’ve been through to get here…”

  “No. No!” Declan broke in, trying to form the correct thought. “It’s just kinda strange that you’re marrying…that I’m friends with…you know…the Maggie West. I mean, she’s become this serious celebrity. And you are the one who gets to marry her. It’s just strange, man.”

  Joe had to laugh out loud. “That’s what you’re thinking about? That’s she’s famous now?”

  Declan blushed in embarrassment at his adolescent thoug
hts. “Well, she’s always just been, Maggie. Now she’s Maggie West. I’m seeing our friend on magazines and red carpets - with your ugly mug. Yeah, that’s what’s bugging me. It’s ticking me off that you married up, twice.”

  Joe smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re contemplating the end of your bachelorhood.”

  “I dunno. I mean, I’m not getting any younger.”

  “You’ve not seen the guest list.”

  Joe had Declan’s full attention. “Really? Who’s coming?”

  Joe scratched his chin. “Welllll…” he said, drawing out the word. “I’m pretty sure I saw the name of that action movie actress…Haley…um, Haley…”

  “Haley Heath?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Haley Heath.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. You guys know Haley Heath? Haley ‘hotter than Angelina’ Heath?”

  “Well, Maggie does. They met out in LA. You know, you’re starting to sound like Gwen when she’s talking about that kid in that boy band. And you’ve got a little drool…”

  “Shut up,” Declan said. He gave Joe a playful shove. “Anyway,” he said, “despite the fact that you’re getting ready to marry another amazing woman, seriously, I’m really happy for you man.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Now get upstairs and get it together. This is a little too touchy-feely for me, and it’s making me uncomfortable.”

  “Awww…c’mere, you,” Joe teased. He grabbed Declan and gave him an overly affectionate hug.

  “Ugh! Stop it man, seriously,” Declan complained as he wrestled him off. “You will show up at your wedding with a busted jaw, I promise.”

  The Ryman was Deana’s idea. She recalled attending the wedding of another artist friend a few years back. So as only the Queen of Nashville could, she wielded her power and influence and secured the venue; primarily out of love for her former employee. But in her heart of hearts, Deana knew her husband’s manipulations to keep Maggie in their camp were more than she could bear. The Ryman was more than Deana’s wedding gift: it was her penance.

  Lenore and Tessa, stylist turned wedding coordinator, were busy directing traffic; telling delivery men if flowers should go in the auditorium or to the reception hall around the corner. Darla, Chrissy Boyd, and the rest of the bridesmaids were in dressing rooms, putting on their finishing touches.

  Seated in one of the busier rooms, Mary Margaret watched the preparation with a sense of awe and wonder, as if she’d landed in some mystical world of life-sized Barbie dolls. Fully dressed and ready to carry out her duties as the flower girl, she held her basket gently, yet firmly, guarded like a priceless treasure.

  Gwen sat next to her; a junior bridesmaid - dressed and ready as well. She reached into her purse and pulled out her phone when she felt the vibration. She’d just received a text…from Sissy.

  Gwen felt a slight wave of awkwardness come over her. While Sissy had taken a low profile in the past year, getting a text from her on this particular day felt a bit ominous. After a quick mental tussle, the teen figured that no matter what it said, she didn’t have to share it with anyone, so she chose to read it.

  Hey there sweet pea…just wanted to wish everyone well.

  Gwen looked at the message with a sad smile. She knew this was hard for her aunt, and appreciated the gesture. Just then, another text from Sissy came through.

  Also wanted to give you a look at what’s been keeping me busy lately ;)

  The message was followed by a picture of Sissy, playfully enveloped by a handsome, tanned, rugged-type man. The expression on both of their faces could only be described as pure joy. Their attire suggested that they were at a party of some sort, surrounded by other equally joyful friends.

  Wow, Aunt Sis, that’s a great picture!

  I know, right???? I think we’re gonna make it official!

  You’re getting married?

  LOL…no, well…not yet. We’re officially a ‘couple’, though!

  I liked him when you brought him to the house a few months back…what’s his name again?

  Mark Kirby.

  Well, I like him!

  Me too!  call you tomorrow!

  k…bye!

  “Gwennie, sugar,” Darla said, breaking Gwen’s concentration. Have you seen Maggie? Her dressing room is empty.”

  Someone handed Lenore a brilliantly wrapped silver box. On the card was an inscription:

  Joe and Maggie…Wishing you God’s best on this blessed day. The mixture of emotions is difficult to sort out, but we know one thing…we are truly thankful that the two of you found one another. Now you are REALLY family, Maggie…we love you so much. We are with you in spirit, enjoying the celebration!

  Love,

  Janice and Matt

  Lenore misted ever so slightly at the beautifully written note. She couldn’t even begin to fathom what her friends were going through on this day. Still, it was a kind thing to do, and she knew Maggie and Joe would feel the Hammond’s blessing.

  Bustling down the stairs, Gwen, Mary Margaret, and Darla interrupted Lenore’s train of thought. Talking over one another, the girls created a confusing cacophony of sound. Waving her arms to quiet them she said, “Okay, okay. What’s going on? One at a time!”

  Looking over the children, Lenore focused on Darla, figuring the adult would make the most sense. “What is happening?”

  “What is happening is that the bride is MIA,” Darla said quietly with a great deal of nervousness. “Somewhere in Nashville, there is a beautiful Black woman running the streets in a cream colored Vera Wang.”

  Lenore was in shock. “What?”

  “What’s going on?” asked Dexter.

  “We can’t find Aunt Maggie, sir,” said Mary Margaret, pulling on the large man’s tux jacket. Suddenly perplexed, she looked at her sister and asked, “Wait. Do we still call her Aunt Maggie or Aunt mom?”

  Gwen rolled her eyes and said, “Shhhh.”

  “No one has seen her,” Dexter asked, directing his question to anyone in the group with an answer.

  “No sir,” Darla said. “But her dress is gone, and it looks as though she’s been getting ready, because all of her make-up and things are kind of strewn about. Oh Lord, I hope nothing’s happened to her.”

  His brow furrowed, Dexter thought for a moment. Locking eyes with his wife, they both knew the one place their only child could be. “Hopefully she has her cell with her,” he said as he simultaneously hit the speed dial button for Maggie’s number while digging his car keys from his pocket. “How much time do we have,” he asked.

  “Just over two hours,” Lenore said.

  “I’m on it,” said Dexter. “Say nothing to anyone,” he instructed the group. “I will be right back.”

  “Yes sir,” the ladies said in unison.

  Chapter 18

  The cab driver was only slightly bemused. When he stopped on the corner of Fifth and Broadway, he found the woman in the poofy white dress to be a bit strange, but this was Downtown Nashville; strange was the new black.

  As he followed her request and drove her south on Interstate 65, his confusion deepened. She asked him to take her to Franklin. During the ride, she simply stared out the window, a strange, sad smile on her face. Something resembling a blanket was folded neatly on her lap.

  Why this woman asked him to take her from Downtown Nashville to Franklin was beyond him, but hey, that dress looked expensive. There might be a really big tip on top of a really big fare.

  Suddenly, it dawned on the driver that he’d seen her somewhere before. On television perhaps. Or maybe even in one of those magazines his wife reads. He couldn’t quite place it, but he knew her from somewhere. She had to be a celebrity of some sort, he reasoned. Only a celebrity would be strange enough to hail a cab in a wedding dress and ask to be taken to a cemetery.

  Maggie ignored the call that came from the phone inside her purse. “Turn here please,” she said politely.

  She knew that people were looking for her. She k
new what she was doing was silly, if not a little unsafe. But through the parties, couples shower, rehearsal, and the things of everyday life in between, there was something burning in Maggie’s spirit; a visit she needed to make.

  By the time this particular morning dawned, Maggie could ignore that burning no longer. She’d tried to sneak away at sunrise, but got waylaid by her Aunt Sharon and Uncle David, cornering her into coffee and conversation.

  She got to the Ryman and proceeded to get dressed. It was during an instant when Tessa had slipped out to take a phone call that she seized her moment. It’s now or never, she thought. She looked at the clock on the wall. A couple of hours to spare. Grabbing her favorite lap blanket, Maggie slipped her cell into her purse, and sneaked out the side door of the building.

  “Up here,” Maggie said pointing over the front seat. They didn’t have to go far. Grace’s headstone was under one of the trees near the entrance.

  As Maggie got out of the cab, the driver snapped his fingers. “Hey, aren’t you…?”

  “Nah. But I get that all the time,” Maggie playfully fibbed. “Keep things running, if you don’t mind? I won’t be long.”

  The driver understood. The edge of his mustache curled slightly upward as he nodded and said kindly, “Sure, lady. No prob.”

  From the cab to the stone bench, Maggie hiked her dress just enough so that it wouldn’t brush the ground. Slowly, she spread the blanket she’d brought with her and sat down.

  Inhaling, Maggie simply stared at the photo on the headstone. Time and weather had begun to cause a bit of fading, but the smiles emanating from it were still clearly visible.

  “I remember when you took that photo.”

  Maggie looked up to find the source of the voice.

  The cab was gone, and in its place stood a woman in a cobalt blue crepe wool suit. She flipped her sable-brown hair casually over one shoulder in a way Maggie had seen a million times before. “Thanksgiving, right?” Grace asked.