A Carol for Kent

by Hallee Bridgeman

  Sunday, April 22nd

  THE sound of the telephone jarred Bobby out of a deep sleep. He opened his eyes and, for a moment, couldn’t remember where he was. As memory dawned he slowly sat up, feeling the soreness in his back and neck from sleeping on a couch that was too small for his long frame. He could hear Carol’s voice as she spoke on the phone in the next room.

  He stood and groaned, stretching his back muscles as he did, and limped to the bathroom. He almost groaned again when he saw his reflection in the mirror. Last night was the first time he’d slept more than a few hours since Thursday night and his reflected red-rimmed eyes stared back from an unshaven face. He splashed his cheeks with cold water, trying to wash away the last vestiges of sleep, and while his reflection didn’t look any better, he definitely felt better. He rubbed his palm over the coarse whiskers on his jaw, wishing that he had a razor with him when he remembered that he never took his suitcase out of his car yesterday morning.

  He went back through the house and out the front door. When he got to his car, he saw Carol standing at the end of the driveway, looking down the road. “Good morning. What are you doing?” he asked.

  She turned around and saw him, then smiled. “Waiting on Lisa. Her friend Amy lives down that street,” she said, pointing. “Amy’s mom can see to our street, and she watches until she gets to where I can see her.”

  Little things. There were so many little things he’d missed out on. “Who would have watched her if she’d been home last night when you got that call?”

  Carol gestured at the house next door. “I’ve been doing the job I do now for about two years. My next door neighbors are a retired couple. They have always loved Lisa. When she found out I was looking for someone to be a live-in au pair, she volunteered to just come over whenever I get a call during nonworking hours. She’s been a gem.”

  Bobby looked at the house and nodded. “It’s good you have them.”

  He walked up to within a few feet of her and lowered his voice. “Carol, I don’t want to impose, but do you mind if I help myself to a shower?”

  Carol looked at him, a bit surprised. “That would be fine. Make yourself at home.”

  He saw Lisa as she rounded the corner of the street, holding hands with her friend. Amy turned and waved behind them, then the two came toward them at a run.

  “Hi mom!” Lisa yelled before she even reached the corner of the yard. “Amy’s going to go to church with us!” When she reached Carol she threw her arms around her mom’s waist. “Amy’s mom said something about midnight feedings and dirty diapers and then she threw up a lot. So she isn’t going to be able to make it today.”

  Carol hugged her back then ran a gentle hand down the back of Amy’s head with a smile and a touch of wistfulness on her face that made Bobby wonder why she’d never married and had more children. “That’s fine. Go upstairs and change clothes. I laid your dress and stockings out on your bed.”

  The two girls stopped in their tracks when they saw Bobby. “Good morning, ladies. Did you have fun last night?” he flirted, making them giggle to themselves.

  “Thanks for singing at my party yesterday, Bobby. All my friends thought it was the coolest thing ever!” Lisa declared.

  “My pleasure, Lisa.” One of the things that had served as both a blessing and a curse over the course of his lifetime was that he came into the world with the ability to charm women. Age didn’t matter. He’d seen it happen to females aged newborn baby up to a ninety-year-old great-great grandma. There were times when it frustrated him, but he was glad his daughter apparently had no natural immunity. He knelt down to her eye level. “Do you like to sing, Sugar?”

  She shook her head. “I like to play the piano. And dance,” she said, executing a pirouette. “You should come see one of my recitals. I usually get to have a solo.”

  “I’d really love to see that. Thank you so much for the invitation. And you know what? It’s a date.” He stuck his hand out and she shook it in a very official way. He nodded and stood, then shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her again. He wanted to hug her as naturally and casually as Carol had. “Now I reckon you’d best go on and get changed like your mama said.”

  The girls giggled again, then dashed past him into the house. He whistled a tune as he pulled his bag from the trunk of his car and winked at Carol before going inside.

  CHAPTER 6

  “LISA Ann Mabry, I am leaving this house in thirty seconds. If you know what’s good for you, you and Amy will both be in the car and strapped in before then,” Carol yelled from the base of the stairs.

  It would forever remain a mystery to her how she could get herself and Lisa dressed, fed, and packed to go for the day by seven every weekday morning, but on Sunday mornings it took every ounce of her will to get them out the door by nine-fifteen. Lisa still hadn’t shown up, and Carol yelled back up the stairs. “You’re going on ten seconds. Nine. Eight.”

  It took full power “mother control” not to smile as the two little girls came barreling down the stairs and through the front door. Once they were out of sight, she let the giggle escape as she picked up her purse, violin case, and Bible off the side table by the door.

  “Mind if I go with you this morning?” Bobby asked from behind her. She turned and saw him dressed in slacks and a button down shirt, freshly shaved.

  “Course not,” she agreed, and let him lead the way. She stopped to lock the door and when she turned back around, he was getting in his car. “You can ride with us if you want,” she offered.

  He looked at her car, then back at her. “I don’t want to impose on your hospitality any more, Carol. Besides, I’ll probably go back to the ranch instead of coming back here. I have to straighten out a few things with my folks.”

  She grimaced as she walked past him, then stopped in shock. “Oh, no. What will they think since you spent the night here last night?”

  “We’re all grown up, Carol. We’re parents, even. You and I know what did and didn’t happen here last night and I know for a fact it’s none of their business.”

  She let that sink in, then shrugged and kept heading to the car. “Good luck,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to have to have that conversation with you.”

  WHEN Carol first moved to Richmond, she did not attend the Kents’ small home church near the ranch, but found her own. She wanted a large, young church, and fell in love with the first one she attended.

  As soon as Lisa was old enough for Carol to put her in the church’s nursery, she started playing in the orchestra. It was one of the biggest blessings of her week, to be able to play her violin in worship to God. The time for practice and rehearsal was definitely a sacrifice, especially with her work schedule, but she managed it with joy.

  This morning, as she sat with the other two violinists and tuned her instrument, she couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous, knowing Bobby Kent sat in the congregation. Classical violin class is what brought them together in the first place. They shared a love for the instrument. His musical talent lay in the larger stringed instrument, the guitar, but he’d wanted to expand his abilities. He never took classical music very seriously though, and he would often disrupt the class by sawing away on his violin like a fiddle. She imagined his fans enjoyed the fact he could play both instruments with equal expertise.

  For some reason, though, as she prepared to play in what should be worship of Almighty God, she found herself wondering if Bobby would be impressed with her continued playing after all this time, and whether he would enjoy the music of the church orchestra. Then she wondered why she cared what he did or did not think about, outside of some aspect of her parenting.

  It hadn’t even been 24 hours since she discovered him at the ranch, and already it felt right to have him in their lives. It surprised her, really, how quickly she let go of the dislike and mistrust she’d held for him for so long. It didn’t make sense that she should hold onto such bad feelings when he had absolutely nothing to do w
ith the deception. Why harbor a grudge against an innocent man?

  What fascinated Carol, though, was the sheer amount of work it took to contain a secret like Lisa. Robert and Harriet had family and friends. They all knew Bobby was their only son, so any grandchild must be his. How did they do it? How did they keep people from mentioning Lisa to Bobby? How deep did their lying and misleading go?

  Carol knew – she knew it was her duty as a follower of Christ to forgive them. She also knew that she was still reeling from it all, and prayed that forgiveness could come when it was time.

  She didn’t envy Bobby the conversation he had to have this afternoon. A part of her thought maybe she should go with him, to provide some form of moral support. But she already had such a tenuous relationship with Harriet that it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to be there and add to the hostility.

  Instead, she would pray for him – for strength and patience. Because if it were her, she’d need both of those virtues in droves.

  At the orchestra conductor’s signal, she queued her bow. Now was not the time to dwell on such things. Rather, she forced herself to play the notes in front of her with a mind to more heavenly things. She knew it wasn’t an accident that the first song she played was all about forgiveness. Accepting the conviction of the Holy Spirit, she prayed while she played, and hoped Bobby felt something similar.

  THE house was so quiet when Bobby stepped into the kitchen that he wondered if his parents were even there. His mother always made a big Sunday dinner, but there were no lingering smells to greet him. He looked in the refrigerator for something to eat, but found nothing prepared, so he grabbed an orange and peeled it at the sink, then worked his way through the house. Both trucks were outside, so someone had to be around.

  He found them in the living room, seated side by side on an expensive leather sofa that played no role in any of his childhood memories. They didn’t look at him when he walked into the room, but his mother started crying, wiping her eyes with a tired looking handkerchief, and his father put his arm around his mother’s shoulders and hugged her to him. Bobby was still angry enough not to care about her current emotional state, so he just sat in a matching leather chair near the couch and ate his orange, waiting for one of them to be the first to speak.

  “Where have you been, son? We’ve been a little worried about you,” Robert said, finally breaking the silence.

  “I went to church with my daughter. Her Sunday School class put on a little skit.”

  Harriet sniffled and looked at her husband. “Oh, Robert. She’s going to be so disappointed that we weren’t there. I forgot all about it.”

  Robert patted her shoulder, and Bobby pulled the reins in on his temper. “You go see all of her little things, then?” he asked in a dangerously soft voice. Harriet nodded. “Must be really nice to have had the opportunity.”

  “We thought we were doing the right thing,” Harriet countered in a wail, covering her mouth with the cloth.

  “The right thing?” He did not even attempt to mask the incredulity he felt. “No sane person would think that what you did was the right thing. So, are you crazy mother? Have you finally just flipped your pancake?”

  “Son, don’t speak to your mother like that,” his father corrected.

  Bobby took a bite of an orange slice and chewed. His face remained calm. “Well, gosh, Dad. Given the circumstances, I think you’re just going to have to cut me a little slack.”

  His father sat straighter. “Son, you need to understand that every time we started to tell you, it just seemed like the wrong time, then it just, well, it just seemed too late. This thing just kind of happened. It wasn’t planned.”

  Bobby nodded. “That is just the kind of clumsy explanation I think I needed. So, let’s take me out of the picture for a moment. Even without me or my feelings, you robbed that little girl of her father for eight years. There isn’t a big enough excuse in the history of mankind to pardon that.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if warming up for a show. “I would have been a good dad all this time.” It was hard to say those words out loud and keep his voice from breaking with the emotions he felt. He stayed calm. There were too many words he was holding back to let his temper go.

  “Be reasonable, son. At the time, we didn’t know if Carol was even telling the truth. That kid could have been anyone’s,” Robert said.

  “I see. Did it never occur to you at the time to, I don’t know, ask me? I would have known, don’t you think?” He nearly yelled that time, very close to losing the precious threads of control. He rubbed his face with his hands.

  Harriet seemed to gain some control back. “Any girl who ends up unmarried and pregnant…” she started to say.

  “Oh, no, mom. Don’t. Do not go there.” He raised his finger in the air to stop her words. “First off, you’re talking about the mother of your grandchild, the mother of my little girl. Second, you’ve been around Carol Mabry for over eight years. You should know better yourself by now.”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You may not be aware of this, but I’m a reasonably intelligent person. I don’t know how that happened. I obviously can no longer attribute it to good parents. Anyway, I’ve been doing some figuring for the last twenty hours or so. She came to you in January. I think that was right about the time I finished putting together the songs and signed the contract for my first album with Patterson Records. If memory serves, that February I finished recording the album and got my first bonus check, about three days before foreclosure on the ranch.

  “A year-and-a-half later, the wolf was back at the door, threatening to foreclose again, but that was after the CMA awards when Swing was moving up the charts. So once again a check from me saved you. Then I started sending you money every month. I told my accountant to send you thirty percent of what I made, and your paychecks just kept getting bigger.”

  By now, Harriet’s sniffles were full-fledged sobs and Robert wouldn’t meet his eyes. Bobby hadn’t wanted to believe that money was the reason he’d been robbed of his daughter, but he could see now that his suspicions were confirmed. He wanted to finish what he had to say before he left, so he continued. “Obviously, I hit it right on the mark. How much of that money went to Carol and Lisa?”

  Bobby didn’t like the sick look that crossed Robert’s face. “Ten percent,” his father whispered.

  “Ten percent?” Bobby saw the edges of his vision blur to red. “You kept ninety percent and gave the mother of my child just ten percent?” he asked in a raised voice.

  Bobby suddenly realized he had stood and was towering over his seated parents. He had to leave the room before he broke something. Or someone. He felt the tight control he maintained over his anger slipping away and he had to leave before he did or said something he could never take back.

  He slammed through the house and out to his rental car, where he placed his hands on the hood and drew in deep, slow breaths. After he felt the skin on his face begin to cool, he opened the door and grabbed his checkbook out of his bag. On the way back into the house, he did some math in his head. He’d already calculated how much money he’d sent them over the years, so the final figuring in his formula fell into place easily. He didn’t sit back down, but stood over them while he wrote. He ripped the check out of the book and threw it at his father. “That should be close to what you gave her over the years. You better spend that wisely, because that’s the very last dime you will ever see from me in this lifetime.”

  He turned to leave, but his father stood and grabbed his arm. “This ranch has been in our family for four generations, and I was about to lose it,” he said with tears streaming down his face.

  “Well, golly-gee, Dad. How was that Lisa’s fault? How was that Carol’s fault? For that matter, how was it mine?” Bobby yelled.

  “It was mine! It was my fault! I know you, son. You would have come back here. You would have given up on your dreams,” Robert pleaded.


  Bobby ripped his arm from his father’s grasp. “Maybe so. And maybe you would have lost your golden goose. But maybe my daughter would have had a father.”

  “But we would have lost everything,” his father said.

  His eyes coldly took in his fretting mother sitting silently on the couch before coming back to rest on his father. “Yeah, well, enjoy it, dad. Enjoy every last inch of this land inside your property line. Enjoy every blade of grass and every grain of dirt.

  “I hope and pray it was worth it. You’ve gained every last acre, but you lost your only son, and you will never see your grandchild again if I have my way. I will make you this promise, though. I’ll spend the rest of my life on this earth being a better father than you.”

  He couldn’t look at the man anymore. Bobby turned his back on them and stormed out of the house.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE voice on the other end of the phone was probably one of the most recognized female voices on the planet. Country music superstar Melody Mason Montgomery accepted the charges for the collect call and then asked with a laugh, “Money problems, Bobby? Why are you calling me collect?”

  “Hey, girl.” Bobby greeted. “I’m on a payphone.”

  “What are you doing on a payphone in Virginia?” Melody asked. “Where did you even find a payphone in Virginia? Are you in a museum?”

  Melody and Bobby had both signed with the now defunct Patterson Records early in their careers and their artistic paths in the industry had paralleled many times on the road from Nashville to stardom. They had both been awarded many prestigious industry honors when they were newcomers and the gossip rags continuously tried to put them together as a couple, christening them “Meloby” and “Bobbody” and such.