“Now you’re talking. But I need to pick up a rental car, too.”
“You can borrow the Blazer. I can do without it for a while. I’ve got the roadster and the pickup.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather get my own. I’d feel bad if you needed it, and I was roaming around someplace. Besides, I think I’m in the mood for something sporty, maybe a red convertible.”
He frowned down at her. “You don’t have any business going off by yourself, especially in a red convertible. That’s no way to keep a low profile.” When she started to protest, he stopped her. “Logan told me that you need a body guard whenever you go out in public. What makes you think it will be any different around here?”
“There won’t be any problem in Buckley.”
“Probably not, until someone tells a friend that you’re here, and that friend tells another, and that one can’t resist calling the media with a hot tip. Before you know it, you won’t be able to step out the front door without people swarming all over you. In fact, if you rent a car, the word is likely to spread like wildfire that you’re in the area. It wouldn’t take a bright reporter to figure out where you’re staying.”
“You’re right. I’ll borrow the Blazer, and I won’t go anywhere without a disguise. It usually works well. You can’t imagine what sunglasses and a curly blond wig will do.”
“Turn you into a Dawn clone?”
She laughed. “Not even close.”
“Well, you don’t need the wig on Friday.”
She reached over and felt his hard biceps. “No, I don’t believe so.” She doubted that the highest paid bodyguard would protect her the way he would.
***
The next day, Andi waved good-bye as Dawn drove off to visit a customer, then she walked back into the living room, her gaze falling on the piano. Happiness brought a smile to her face as the urge to play the beloved instrument returned. She pulled out the old, three-legged piano stool and sat down. Thinking of others whose hands had lovingly touched the black and white pieces of ivory, she folded back the cover that protected the keys. When she ran her fingers lightly over them, her heart soared at the rich, velvet tones.
Closing her eyes, she pictured her great-grandmother, Granny Mae, bent and frail, sitting there. At age ninety, she had still been able to play the hymns of her youth from memory, never missing a note. Andi’s grandmother played hymns, too, and was pianist at the church for twenty years, but her secret love and passion was the blues. During Andi’s visits, they spent much of their time “jamming” with Grandma Carson at the piano and Andi on the guitar. It was only natural that a hint of the blues sometimes crept into Andi’s musical creations.
Oddly, musical ability skipped her father’s generation. Both he and his sister enjoyed listening to all kinds of music but had no inclination to make their own. Her dad told her that God had saved it up, so she could have a double helping of talent.
She played for much of the afternoon, only occasionally digging through a songbook to read the notes. Although she had taken years of piano lessons and could read music extremely well, Andi played predominately by ear, instinctively playing the notes and cords that she heard in her mind.
She played and sang hymns, some of her own songs, and some of the blues her grandmother had taught her. Then, just randomly playing cords, she hit a combination that triggered a new creation. As her fingers flowed across the keyboard, the melody took form, bursting from her mind to fill the room with music, flooding her heart with joy and thanksgiving.
As the last delicate notes faded away, she felt tears of happiness well up in her eyes. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you from the depths of my soul.” In her heart, she seemed to hear a quiet, gentle voice whisper, “You’re welcome.” Laughing, she spun around on the piano stool, which raised the seat up slightly. With a giggle, she spun back around the other way.
Calming, she ran through the first few lines of the song again. “Now for the words.” In the past, the music had usually come easily; the lyrics had not. She might spend ten minutes to a few days composing the music for a song and weeks trying to come up with the words, often turning in the end to someone else to write them.
Not this time. The words flowed so quickly she could barely keep up. “Wait a minute!” She jumped up and ran to the kitchen cabinet where Dawn stored office supplies. Grabbing a pad and pencil, she sat down on the couch and scribbled the phrases that seemed to flow out of a hidden spring. When she was done, she looked at what she had written. It was a song about Jesus and his wonderful love, the first gospel song she had ever written.
Her hands unsteady, she returned to the piano and put the words together with the music. It took a few times through to get the phrasing and tempo right, but when she finished, she knew it was good.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, awed and a little shaken by what had just transpired. “Is this where I’m supposed to go now?” She took a deep breath. “I’ll have to think about this, Lord. I know I gave my life to you yesterday, and I want to do what you want me to, but I’m going to need a little time to sort things out.”
Her gaze fell on Dawn’s stereo, which included a tape player. Not exactly the most modern technology, but recording the song would help her to remember it. She looked through the stereo cabinet, finding some blank tapes but no microphone.
Digging through the junk drawer, she again came up empty handed, but when she checked the garage, she hit pay dirt. On a shelf between a box of magazines from the sixties and a box of old kerosene lamp chimneys, sat a carton labeled “household electronic stuff.” Beneath a small roll of speaker wire, two coiled phone cords, and a printer cable, she found the microphone.
After recording the song and playing it back, Andi allowed herself a satisfied smile. It wasn’t just a good song; it was a very good song. And it didn’t sound half bad even recorded on an older home system.
Anticipation spiraled through her, a sense of creative excitement she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. She wanted to sit back down at the piano and play for a few more hours but her body demanded rest. Curling up on the couch, her thoughts drifted back to her childhood, recalling memories that had lain dormant for years.
In her mind’s eye, she relived a poignant afternoon spent with her great-grandmother, sitting together on the porch swing of this very house, looking through old family pictures. She had been ten; Granny Mae, ninety-one. Speaking in a whispery voice, the elderly lady shared stories of her youth, reminiscing about her own parents and grandparents, hardy Texas pioneers.
They came across a portrait taken soon after her marriage, and her great-grandmother’s eyes filled with a soft, distant light. Her thoughts far away, Granny Mae slowly told her of the man Andi had never known. Gazing beyond the colorful flowers that filled the corners of the yard, she took her back across time to the day they met, when Great-grandpa Buck spent half a month’s wages to out-bid five other men for her box supper and the pleasure of her company at the church social. Through those ancient eyes and cherished memories, Andi met the handsome cowboy, poor but proud and full of dreams, his heart captured the first time he saw the new school teacher.
They had more than their share of hardships. Four children came into the world, and two of them soon passed on into the next. They bought a little place and saw it grow, then times got bad, and they lost it all. But love endured. He went back to being a cowboy, working another man’s stock, living on another man’s land, earning his way and providing for his family. He never again possessed land of his own, but it didn’t matter. After he was gone, Granny Mae was still given a home on the ranch, a place secured by the sweat of his brow and the faithfulness of his heart.
Andi would never forget, how, even after twenty years without her man beside her, Granny Mae’s eyes glowed with a love undimmed by time. She confessed that not a day went by that she didn’t think of him, miss him, and long to be in his arms again. Less than a month later, she died quietly in her sleep, and her wish came true at last.
Andi swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. “I want a love like that, Lord,” she whispered. “A love that endures no matter what. A love to pass on.” Her voice broke as yearning filled her heart. “I want it more than anything in the world.”
CHAPTER 8
Early Friday afternoon, Wade pulled away from the tractor dealer’s, the box of parts sitting in the back of the Blazer. “It always amazes me how much a few puny parts can cost. I suppose when a twenty-year-old tractor sells for almost fifty thousand dollars, the parts are bound to be expensive, but it still seems excessive. No wonder so many farmers go under each year.”
He glanced in the outside mirror and changed lanes, then gave her an apologetic smile. “Excuse me for griping. Comes with the territory when you’re around a farmer or a rancher. If we’re not complaining about costs or low prices, we’ll bellyache about the weather.”
“That’s okay,” Andi said with a teasing smile. “I have a toy tractor you can borrow, if it will make you feel better. No spare parts needed.”
He laughed. “Actually, I have a couple of those myself. How many stuffed animals did you say you got this week?”
“Twenty-three, I think. And all kinds of other stuff, much of it homemade. Everything from a jar of ‘Elma’s special watermelon pickles’ to afghans. There are a handful of sketches and a couple of small oil paintings—nice peaceful country scenes to help me mend. A couple of folks wrote poems and hundreds shared scripture verses to encourage me. I’ve read cards and letters until my eyes crossed. It always amazes me when people take the time to write, but when they send gifts, especially the homemade ones, it blows me away.”
“There’s no way you can answer all those letters personally. How do you handle it?”“To most of them, I’ll send autographed pictures with a little printed note thanking them for their letter and telling them that I’m doing much better. I have a secretary in Nashville who takes care of addressing all the envelopes and actually mailing everything. In addition to the photos, I intend to write to the ones who sent gifts. I’ve typed a basic letter on Dawn’s computer and will add something personal to each one. I’m trying to get as many done a day as I can because I won’t have time once I go back to work.”
“Any idea when that’s going to be?”
“I might know more after I see Doc today. I know I’m not ready yet because my strength isn’t where it should be, but I also know I’m improving. Don’t worry, I’m not going to rush back before I’m able.” She smiled and gave him a wink. “I’m having too much fun.”
“Then I’ll have to think of more ways to keep you entertained. Why don’t you bring Dawn out Sunday afternoon, and we’ll have a fish fry. I’ve got a mess of catfish in the freezer.”
“Somehow I don’t picture you as a fisherman.”
Wade laughed. “I’m not, but I love catfish. So I cheat. I buy them at the catfish farm at the lake. They take care of the catching, cleaning, and deboning. All I have to do is cook ‘em and eat ‘em. And I don’t do half bad if I do say so myself.”
“Especially on the eating part.” She flashed him a grin.
“Well, I can put quite a bit away.” He turned into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, parked the Blazer, and shut off the ignition. “Do you want me to come in with you?”
She glanced at her watch. “There’s no need. We’re right on time.”
“I don’t mind keeping you company while you wait.”
“I don’t have to wait very long. I go inside through the back door, and they take me right to a room. That way, I don’t risk people in the lobby recognizing me and disturbing the other patients.”
“Pays to be a star, uh?” he said with a smile.
“Sometimes.” She opened the door and hopped out. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
The checkup went quickly. Doctor Curtis had helped bring Andi into the world and told her that he was pleased she was going to stay in it for a while. He commented right away on her improved color and noted a sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with that young man who brought you today, would it?”
Andi smiled, enjoying his banter, and teased back. “What were you doing, Doc? Peeking out the back door?” When he nodded, she shrugged lightly. “He’s just an old friend from high school.”
“Humph.” The doctor peered at her over the half-sized reading glasses perched on his nose. “Takes more than a friend to put that kind of glimmer in a woman’s eyes.”
“I will admit it has been very nice to get reacquainted.”
The nurse came in and took some blood, and the doctor examined Andi’s lungs. “They still sound clear, and your throat looks fine. Have you been doing any singing?”
“Some. I’ve been playing the piano quite a bit. Wrote a couple of new songs this week.”
“Working on a new album?” He scribbled some notes in her chart.
“I’m not sure yet, but it’s nice to be writing again. I haven’t done that in a while.”
“Hard to be creative when you’re sick. Judging from the information the doctor in Tucson sent me, you had been sick for awhile before you wound up in the hospital. How’s your energy level?”
“Getting better almost every day. I’ve been taking short walks, increasing the distance gradually. I try to rest when I start getting tired instead of waiting until I’m worn out, but sometimes that’s hard to do. I like to finish something once I start.”
“Andrea, it’s very important that you don’t allow yourself to become overtired. If you try to rush your recovery, you’ll wind up sick again. I know you miss being in the thick of everything, but you were suffering from a major case of exhaustion before you ever became anemic or came down with pneumonia. You have to slow your pace, young lady, or you’ll burn out completely,” he said sternly. His expression softened. “Perhaps it’s time to ease up on your career and find a husband.”
Andi laughed. “You never were subtle, Doc.”
“I plan on retiring in four years, and it would be mighty nice to bring at least one of your babies into the world.”
The nurse opened the door and handed him the lab report. He studied it thoughtfully. “Your numbers are improving, but they’re not quite where they need to be yet. Still taking your vitamins?”
“Faithfully. If I forget, Dawn reminds me. She’s a vitamin junkie. May I drive now?”
“Yes, you may drive, but no long trips by yourself. Don’t take off to El Paso or Dallas. And, I want to see you next week.” He stood and patted her on the shoulder. “I expect that in another couple of weeks I can turn you loose, but only if you keep taking care of yourself.”
“I will. Scouts honor.” She held up two fingers, frowned, and made it three. It had been too many years since she’d been a Brownie Scout to remember the pledge sign.
He walked to the door and looked back at her. “Give my best to Wade. Tell him to stub his toe or something so I can see him. If all my patients were as healthy as he is, I’d go broke.” He looked over his reading glasses and winked. “If he’s smart, he won’t let you get away.”
After Doctor Curtis left the room, Andi hurried out the back door.
Wade had lowered the back of his bucket seat and was reclining comfortably with his taupe felt hat pulled down over his eyes. She paused a few seconds, admiring the way his light green Western shirt fit his muscular torso. The day was warm, and he had rolled up his sleeves to the middle of his forearms. When she opened her door, he pushed his hat back and sat up, raising the seat back upright. “Hi, darlin’. How did it go?”
The warmth and tenderness in his eyes and smile made Andi’s heart do a funny little flip. She suddenly imagined him holding a tiny baby in his arms, their baby. Her heart began to tap dance. Blast you, Doc, for putting ideas into my head. “It went fine. Blood count is up. He said I could start driving, so looks like you’re gonna lose your wheels.”
“Fine by me. I’m glad
your improving.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got about three hours until dinner. What do you want to do?”
“Go to the mall. I need to buy a couple of dresses for church.”
“I don’t know if I like the glint in your eye, woman. Something tells me you’re going to find more than a couple of dresses.” He started the Blazer and backed out of the parking space.
Andi laughed and put on her sunglasses. They chatted about the doctor and the way Sidell had grown until they reached the mall.
He parked in front of the main department store and warily eyed the building.
She held back a grin. “You don’t like shopping, do you?”
“I don’t mind if it doesn’t take long to find what I need.”
“Typical man. You go in, get something the right size and color, buy it, and leave. But a woman shops differently, right?”
“Right. At least Aunt Della does. Takes her forever.”
“Oh, you poor thing.” She leaned across the console between their seats and tickled his chin. “Be forewarned. I have a very large clothing budget.”
He looked down at her, his expression resigned. “So what you’re telling me is that we’re going to be here ‘til supper time. You realize you’re going to have to pay me to carry all those packages. And don’t forget my patience. That has to be added in.”
“A kiss when we’re done.”
He gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look and shook his head. “It’s going to take more Yankee dimes than that.”
Hearing the old Southern term for a kiss made her smile. “Two.”
“Nope.”
She looked at her watch. “One for every hour that we’re here.”
He considered her offer. “Not enough. I’m the bodyguard, too, remember?”
“I usually pay my bodyguard in real money.”
“I hope so. What about the guy who carries the packages?”
“One and the same. So, you shouldn’t get more because you’re doing two jobs.”
“Call it inflation. One Yankee dime for every half hour.”
Love Song Page 8