by Anne Carol
“I’ve had offers to do studio work and some songwriting. I’ll do that for a while, and when I’m ready to go back, hopefully they’ll take me. But if not, I’ll find another band that needs a guitar player. I’m not worried about it, Beth. I’ve done a lot of soul searching this past month, and I know what I need to do. As long as you don’t mind living on less. We won’t be rich by any means.”
“You know that never mattered to me. I just want you to be happy.”
“I will be happy. I’m content with this decision.”
“Will breaking the contract cost us a lot?”
“Honestly, I haven’t gone over all the details. My head was a mess when I left, and I haven’t really been in contact with anyone since I entered rehab. I needed all my mental energy for recovery.”
“Can you sort it out soon? I don’t mind living on less, but I’m not exactly ready to move back to your parents either.”
“We’ll figure it out, love. I promise.”
“Sorry Trevor took it to that level. He should want you to be better.”
“Trevor is difficult. He’s got so much baggage, I…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Anyway, he’s the only one who doesn’t get the family thing. Maybe he’ll come round after a while.”
“Baggage?” Now I was curious. I’d never known Trevor’s history, but evidently, it wasn’t ideal.
“Never mind. It’s not my story to tell.”
“Oh.” I set down my half-empty container and snuggled up to him. “I’m okay with whatever you want to do, as long as you keep doing what you love.”
“Thank you.”
“So we’ll go back to London after Christmas?”
“Yes, I’d like to be back by New Year’s Eve so we can spend time with my family.”
“We can do that.” I smiled. “It’s our baby’s first Christmas.”
“We should take her to see Santa tomorrow.”
I hesitated. “Uh…Susie and I kind of already did that.”
He sighed. “Well, then she’ll just have to go again.”
“Of course.” I smiled at his determination.
“And we can take her to see the lights around town…” He gazed out the window.
“I love you, David.”
“I love you, too.” He kissed the top of my head and held me.
The screaming hit our ears the moment we opened the door. David tore down the hallway, and I was right on his heels.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Mom said, pacing the room with Christine against her shoulder. The baby’s voice sounded hoarse like she’d been crying for hours. My heart sank.
“Come here, little lady.” David gently took her from my mom and cradled her in his arms. He began singing an old hymn, and she stopped fussing to stare up at him.
My parents and I watched in awe. “She missed her daddy,” I concluded. Crossing my arms over my chest, I added, “She never does that when I’m gone for the night.”
He rocked her in his arms and grinned. “Are you a daddy’s girl?” He touched her nose, and she smiled, even though her eyes still held tears. “I’m never going to leave you again, pumpkin.”
“Well, I’m off to bed. Come on, Sharon,” Dad said. “Goodnight, kids.”
“Goodnight, and thanks for watching Christine. Sorry she was difficult,” I said, hugging each of them.
After they left, David looked at me. “Go ahead and get ready for bed. I’ll put her down.”
“Thanks.” I kissed his cheek, and then the baby’s. “Just come get me if she needs to nurse.”
When he joined me in bed later, I lay my head on his shoulder. “Sexiest thing ever.”
“What’s that?”
“Watching your handsome husband take care of his baby.”
“Sexy. Really?” He grinned devilishly, rolling over to face me.
“Yes.” I slid my hand through his hair. “So is Christine completely out?”
“Like a light.” His minty breath was an invitation.
I giggled softly as I pulled him closer, kissing him.
The mall on December 23rd. Why didn’t anyone warn me? I’d assumed it would be crowded, but this was madness. And here I was with no disguise: just a ball cap which barely hid my face. Please, God. Don’t let anyone bother us. Today was about my little girl and seeing her face as she sat on Santa’s lap.
I’d performed before thousands, yet this typical holiday custom made me strangely anxious. Would she cry, laugh, smile, or be scared? If she cried, I was prepared to swoop in and rescue her. She was safely in my arms now, though Beth had brought the stroller. I’d told her to leave it behind, but she said she needed it to hold her packages and the diaper bag.
“And sometimes, she gets wiggly when you hold her, so it’s nice to be able to strap her in.”
“Oh, she won’t be wiggly with me, will you, little angel?” I kissed her round, pink cheek.
But as we inched our way toward Santa, she batted about, as if to challenge me. Thankfully, I had a firm hold on her.
“Are you excited to see Santa?” Beth asked Christine. “Again?” she added, winking at me.
She stared at Santa with wide eyes and then babbled in my face, which I adored. When Beth told me she’d already taken Christine to see Santa, I was crushed. How many other firsts had I missed? If being separated for seven weeks taught me anything, it was how important my family was to me. I’d sacrifice everything for them, even my music career.
As we approached Santa, Christine gripped me tighter, and I feared she would cry when I placed her in his lap. I gave her a little pep talk as she touched my face. Finally, it was our turn. I prayed silently as Santa held her. When she flashed me a grin, I knew she’d be fine.
“Sweetie, look at the camera, not me.”
The stinker wouldn’t stop looking my way, so I moved behind the camera lady and made a face at Christine. She giggled, making for a perfect Santa picture.
Strolling away from Santa’s Village, Beth admitted, “She didn’t really smile for the first picture.” She stopped walking and kissed my lips. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure.”
“Something’s different about you.” She kissed me again.
“A lot is different about me.”
“Yeah, but…” She leaned in and sniffed me. “Hey, you haven’t been sneaking off for a smoke since you’ve been here.”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I went through the smoking cessation program.”
“You quit smoking?” Her face lit up and she threw her arms around me. “That’s wonderful, just wonderful. We have so much to celebrate this Christmas.”
At that moment, I understood something. All the rubbish I’d been through since Beth left the tour refined me. I wasn’t proud of my mistakes, but they’d forced me to examine my values and priorities. As the pastor told me back at the center, God had a way of turning things around, even when circumstances seemed bleak. Now, by a miracle, my family was back together, and I couldn’t have been happier.
Christmas was a day full of celebration. The church service was joyful, and I belted out the carols, my voice rising above those around me. Beth glowed in her blue velvet dress. Christine was in a new red plaid frock, along with a matching headband. She was such a good baby, sitting contentedly on my lap and chewing on her teething ring. So what if I had drool all over my suit? I’d choose this any day over being in the back of a tour bus—alone.
We all gathered at Beth’s parents’ for the holiday supper, including Grandma Claire, Beth’s sister Rachel, and Rachel’s boyfriend, Joey. Grandma and Rachel showered attention on Christine, cherishing the time they had with her. Even though I missed being with my family, I enjoyed getting reacquainted with Beth’s sister and grandmother.
“You take good care of my Beth, you hear?” Grandma told me after we’d had a chat about England.
“Of course I will, Grandma. I always do.”
After supper, as we sat around the fire with mugs o
f homemade cocoa, Joey got down on one knee and proposed to Rachel, who feigned surprise. Clearly, the proposal had been planned, and it seemed we’d be back within the year to attend a wedding. Beth commented to me in a low voice, “It’s about time.”
As I lay in bed that night, thinking back over the events of the day, I was almost afraid to ask. But I needed to. “Well, after a wonderful holiday with your family, are you ready to go back to England in a few days?”
She curled into my side and draped her arm across my chest. “Yes. I want to go home.”
English countryside
Seven months later…
“Five years, Mr. Somers,” I said, gazing up at the twinkling stars.
“We’ve conquered a great deal, haven’t we?” David held my hand as he lay next to me. The ground beneath us was cushioned by a soft quilt, an anniversary gift from Margaret.
“And experienced much joy. Can’t believe Christine is a year old.”
David squeezed my hand. “Walking, talking, singing, playing piano and guitar.”
“Geez, you’re making her sound like a prodigy. She just started stumbling around, she says ‘daddy’ and ‘mummy’ and ‘no’ and she hums along with you when you’re singing—”
“Hey, she’s got a nice voice. She’ll be a brilliant singer someday.”
“She bangs on the piano and…well, I’ll give you one—she does seem to have an affinity for guitar.” I’d been amazed at how focused she was when she plucked the guitar strings with her tiny fingers.
“Just like her daddy.”
“Maybe the next one will take after me,” I said.
David shifted to his side, facing me. He ran his palm over my cheek and brushed my hair back. “You’re sure you’re ready?”
“I’ve tossed the pills, so there’s no turning back.”
“Are you scared?” I knew what he meant. It had been almost five years since we lost our first baby, and the experience had left me with a hole in my heart.
“Sort of,” I admitted. “But I won’t…I can’t let that stop me from trying.”
“Good. Just remember, whatever happens, we’re in this together. And we have a beautiful, healthy girl. If she’s all God ever gives us, I’ll be a happy man.”
I reached up and kissed him. “I’m so blessed to have you as my husband.”
“And I’m equally blessed.” His return kiss was tender and long as if he didn’t want to let go, but then he broke away. “Happy anniversary, Mrs. Somers.”
“Happy anniversary, my sweet man.” Still feeling the burn of passion from his kiss, I cupped his face in my hands and claimed his lips with fierceness.
We became one under the starry sky, at the very spot where two lovestruck teenagers had made a commitment to each other six years earlier, despite living an ocean apart. So much had changed in those six years, but the one thing that would never change was how much we loved each other. No matter what the future held, we would experience it together, thanks to the gift of love.
Australia
July 1986
I was having a fabulous dream, where Beth and I were lounging on the beach in the Caribbean, when I felt someone pinching my nose. A tiny giggle followed, along with locks of dark hair in my slowly opening eyes.
“Dahddy…Dahddy!” she whispered in her perfect English accent, making me smile.
“Where’s Grandmum?” I asked, sitting up and facing my squirmy little girl.
“Weading book! I need go potty,” she said as she bounced on the bed.
“All right, let’s go. Good girl for not wetting yourself.” I picked her up and carried her to the wash room.
At two years old, Christine was growing up before my eyes. She’d been putting sentences together for a few months now, and when Beth had first mentioned our daughter sported a thick English accent—in spite of being around her American mum all day—I beamed with pride. And now she was almost out of her nappies, which was ideal since we had a new baby.
Jessica Margaret Somers was born April 7th, 1986—bald, blue-eyed, and quite vocal. She was fussier than Christine had been, and at three months, was still a full-time job. Which is why, when given the chance to tour with Moon Shot, my new band, I decided to take Christine with me. The tour was only two weeks long, and my mum was along to help with Christine. My girl loved being around the band and never failed to leap into my arms when I stepped off the stage every night.
“I finished,” she announced, wadding up way too much toilet paper. Oh, the glamorous life of a parent.
As I helped her dress, she said, “Ring Mummy?”
“We should. It’s getting late there, and she’ll be off to bed soon.”
“Why?”
“Because London is a different time than Australia.”
“Oh.”
I hesitated, bracing myself for another “why?”, but thankfully she didn’t require further explanation. Sometimes she was too smart for her age. I picked up the phone and dialed the number, hoping Beth wasn’t already in bed.
“Hello?”
I held the phone up so we could both hear.
“Mummy!”
“Oh, hi baby. Hi, David.” She sounded dreary, and the wail of a baby in the background was hard to miss.
“You having trouble with our wee one?” I asked, wishing I was there to help her.
“Oh, she’s just always hungry. And she doesn’t seem to like sleep much.”
“Is Aunt Ellie and Jenny helping out enough? Letting you sleep during the day, at least?”
“Yeah, they’ve been a lot of help.”
I missed my little princess. Jessica was starting to get wisps of blonde hair, and she was scrawny as ever, yet with Beth’s feisty spirit. I could already tell she was going to be trouble, but I loved her indescribably. Being away from two of my ladies was hard, but Beth had encouraged me, saying I needed to get back in the game.
It had been almost two years since I traveled overnight with a band. I’d enjoyed studio work and collaborations with other recording artists in the meantime, but I was starting to get the itch to perform in different venues. Beth’s blessing meant the world to me. Our only stipulation was that we wouldn’t be apart for more than two weeks at a time.
We were still figuring this out—how to balance family life with my music career. Don and Brooke were now expecting their third child, and he had quit the band a year ago to try his hand at teaching music. Vinyl Fog looked very different these days, and I wasn’t sure what the future held.
“It’ll be a pain flying out to California next month if she’s still a fussbudget,” Beth pointed out, sounding frustrated.
“Yeah, but you can’t miss the birth of your nephew, and besides, I’ll be there.”
“Oh, I know, and I’m looking forward to being in California. I need sunshine.”
“I know, honey.” More and more, I’d been feeling guilty that Beth seldom got to see her home state. She’d sacrificed her life in California—her family, friends, gorgeous weather, familiarity—to be with me. She’d lived in London for six years now. At what point should I make the same sacrifice?
Was a big move on the horizon? Only God knew, and I had to keep listening for the call. But no matter where I lived, my home was with my wife and daughters, and nothing would ever change that.
To be continued …
(The conclusion of the Faithfully Yours Series)
Coming Fall, 2019
(PREVIEW)
Peace. Serenity. Fresh air. A cool ocean breeze.
I took a moment to enjoy these treats as I settled back in the beach chair, my bare feet digging into the fine and gritty sand. As I observed the setting sun on the horizon, sinking slowly into the distant ocean, a whisper inside my head reminded me of the lateness of the hour. Time to pack up and head home.
The tinkling sound of two little girls giggling drew my attention away from the disappearing sun. Within seconds, my legs were hit with flinging sand.
“Mummy!” O
ne voice shrieked. “Come look! We buried Daddy in the sand!”
The other, tinier voice just squealed with uncontrollable laughter.
Alert now, I got to my feet. “What have you silly girls done?”
Christine, my five-year-old daughter, grabbed my hand and pulled me over to where my husband, David, was literally—as she claimed—buried in the sand. The girls were in hysterics while David gave me a goofy grin, the same one he’d been giving me for over eleven years now. All I could do was stand there with my hands on my hips, shaking my head back and forth.
“Trying to exfoliate your skin?”
“Can you believe your daughters?” he exclaimed, ignoring my sarcasm.
“Oh, I see, they’re my daughters, huh? I got news for you. These little stinkers are all yours, dear,” I remarked.
“And I’m quite proud of them,” he said, smirking. “Hey, doll—” He winked at me. “Why don’t you come here?”
Before I could respond, he freed one arm from the sand and tugged me down with him, gracing me with a kiss.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Christine and her three-year-old sister Jessica called from the sidelines. Over the past year, the girls had taken to cheering for us whenever we shared a kiss in front of them. I think David egged them on.
Now spitting sand out of my mouth, I stood up and announced, “I’m sorry to break this moment, but we should get home and get you girls a bath, and Daddy needs a shower.”
Right on cue, Christine and Jessica performed a whining duet, “Nooo…”
“Your mum is right. You’ve both got school tomorrow,” said David.
“Mum does, too!” Christine announced. “She’s going to college!”
As David crawled out from the piles of sand, he looked at me with a glint in his eyes. “Yes, she’s going to learn how to be a writer.”
I gave him a tentative smile as a shiver of fear ran through me. “I hope it goes well.”
He stood in front of me and ran a finger down my cheek. “You’ll be brilliant.”