A Carol for Kent

by Hallee Bridgeman

  “Take your time. I need to get organized anyway,” Rhonda said, and the two separated in the hall.

  BOBBY sat on his front porch and watched the woman pull up in the little sports car. He knew Carol planned to work tonight, and assumed this was the attorney, Rhonda, she’d mentioned. While he watched lights going off and on in the house next door, he idly plucked at his guitar with the song that had nagged at him in the back of his mind for the past week. He saw a light go on in her office. His fingers kept playing while he watched the light, imagining her sitting at her computer or at her desk bent over and writing something. The woman worked like a draft horse, as far as he could tell, and got less sleep that anyone he knew. How she remained standing after the weekend she’d just had, much less focused her mind on her work, was something that continued to amaze him.

  Gloria Westbury had given him the replay of Carol’s confrontation with his parents, and he fought back another wave of anger that he felt too relaxed to deal with. He knew that something like that couldn’t be overlooked, but he was new at this sort of thing and didn’t know how to deal with it. Would another screaming match do any good? Or should he just ignore it and hope they went away?

  With a sigh, he closed his eyes and put his head back. What he really needed to do was pray. This anger he felt had to go away, no matter how righteous he could make himself feel about it.

  As he prayed, his fingers absently played a new tune. He didn’t recognize it, but the words to the song came eventually, and he filed them away, not wanting to move from his spot to find a pen and paper to write them down, not wanting to disturb his communion with God. He realized at some point it was a love song, and then, further into it, he realized it was a really good love song.

  Bobby stopped praying, stopped paying so much attention to the light across the lawn from him and started paying attention to the song currently unfolding. He started getting excited. He closed his eyes and heard the musical accompaniment in his head as it reached full culmination. Then, as naturally as a leaf falls in autumn, the music paused for two beats and the song softly ended.

  This song was going to be a huge hit. There was no doubt about that. He let the last of the notes fade into the night, then set his guitar down and stretched his legs out in front of him, focusing once again on the light in Carol’s window. He wasn’t ready to dissect his feelings for her yet, so he emptied his mind and allowed his body to relax. He sat that way until he saw the attorney, Rhonda, leave with an arm full of files and watched the lights inside go off downstairs then another one turn on upstairs. Instead of letting himself sit there imagining Carol getting ready for bed, he got up and went inside his house.

  CHAPTER 13

  Monday, April 30th

  “HARRISON, I neither want nor need a mound of paperwork. I already told you we have things worked out,” Bobby said with very real annoyance.

  “I heard you, Bobby. And as I explained to you, right now she holds all the cards. Sure, she wants to keep things on an even keel right now. Everything’s informal. Just simple written agreements. What happens when she sues you for back child support and you have absolutely no record of ever paying her a dime? What happens when she decides she’s not getting enough money from you and suddenly wants more? What then?”

  Bobby grit his teeth until he felt sure that one of them might crack. “Then, when she asks, which she won’t, I’ll write her a check for more money. That isn’t an issue for either one of us.”

  “Money is an issue for everyone at some point or another.”

  “Do I need to remind you that it isn’t your money, Harry?” Bobby asked.

  Harrison blinked, perhaps realizing that Bobby Kent’s patience was at an end. “No, Bobby. You don’t need to remind me. But you pay me to protect your interests and this is how I do that. I’m just doing my due diligence. She’s an attorney, Bobby. I’ve seen these kinds of things go places you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Carol Mabry has more than eight years of one opportunity after another to come to me for whatever she wanted, and she did nothing. If anything, I owe her more.”

  Harrison’s voice came out even, sounding reasonable and confident, as if testifying in court. He obviously spoke in his role as the devil’s advocate. “Well, of course. What guy wants to deal with a rampant toddler or potty training? But now some woman’s got you over a barrel, now that the kid’s all broken in and can talk, and it looks like parenting is just going to be one big fun game.”

  Bobby’s emotions had been through the wringer in the last few weeks. He knew it, and he knew he was reacting right now instead of thinking. That knowledge didn’t stop him from standing up. He stood and very softly said, “That’s the last time, Harrison. We aren’t talking about ‘the kid.’ We’re talking about my daughter. My little girl. Her name is Lisa. And we aren’t talking about ‘some woman.’ We’re talking about my child’s mother. Her name is Carol.”

  Realizing that Bobby would never sign any of the paperwork he had so carefully prepared, Harrison removed the pen from his blotter and deposited it into the top of his desk drawer. He straightened the corners of the blotter so that they were perfectly even with the edge of his desk. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Bobby. I’m just trying to look out for your best interests.”

  Bobby laid his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I’m tired of all of the people around me looking out for my best interests as if I’m incapable of rational or logical thought. I’ll speak with you later when, hopefully, you’ll be prepared to respect my decisions.”

  He retrieved his hat, put it on his head, and turned to leave the office. Harrison coughed and sat up straight, putting his hands up as if surrendering. The attorney’s voice followed him out the door. “Bobby! Please wait a few…”

  Bobby slammed the door behind him and walked away, not bothering to look at the secretary who stared at him in shock.

  BOBBY still felt angry with his attorney, but he was even more angry with himself for losing his temper. As he waited for the other attendees at this lunch meeting to arrive, he sipped his ice water and considered what Harrison had said in spite of his feelings.

  As a young man, Bobby Kent had realized that he had a quick temper. All his life, he had taken steps to overcome it. As an adult, it wasn’t a completely unheard of event for him to lose his temper, it simply had not happened in years. Even when he felt greatly annoyed, usually no one ever knew it. People who knew him best, like Melody for example, might claim Bobby never got angry.

  The fact that he had lost his temper, that both Harry and his secretary had witnessed it, embarrassed him. He owed them an apology for his rudeness if nothing else.

  As far as what Harrison said, Bobby decided he would have to talk with Carol. He trusted Carol instinctively, and he didn’t think that was a mistake. He felt like she trusted him, too. He wanted nothing more than to prove himself trustworthy after the deception his parents had orchestrated. He would talk with Carol and the two of them, together, would figure it out. They would have to put legal protections in place to protect themselves, and Lisa, from all the well-intentioned people in their lives if nothing else.

  Things would be so much simpler if we were married, he thought.

  That thought stopped him for a long minute. How much did he trust Carol? How much did she trust him? They couldn’t have gotten off to a rockier start. Could they overcome all that? Could they seriously talk about a lifelong covenant of love in a state of holy matrimony?

  He intentionally set all his inner thoughts aside when his lunch meeting arrived. Bobby stood as Harmony Harper crossed the dining room behind the hostess. When he saw her, he could not help but grin. Without her heels, he stood taller than her by a good foot. She was small framed, with long, curly blonde hair and vivid blue eyes. She had such a fragile appearance that she always looked like a strong wind could knock her down.

  But her voice. Her voice could silence fifty thousand people. Bobby had seen it happen. He’d never hea
rd anything like it. She topped chart after chart in contemporary Christian music, and was a driving force in bringing thousands upon thousands of teenagers to Christian concerts and events who might otherwise never have come. Even more exciting, her latest single had crossed over and was finding air time on every pop station in North America.

  Harmony grinned and walked right into his open arms, hugging him with enthusiasm. “It is so good to see you again!” She stepped back and took his hands, looking him up and down. “Something’s new. What is it?”

  He gestured at the seat and nodded his thanks to the hostess who set the menu next to her plate. Harmony slid into the chair and looked over her shoulder. “Quick. Franklin’s due here any time. You’re practically glowing.”

  Bobby snickered and shook his head as he sat down. “How do you know this stuff?”

  “Intuition.” She grinned and picked up her menu. “But you’re not denying anything, so you better spill.”

  “Seems that I’m a daddy.”

  Her smile faded and she set her menu down. He could almost see the change come over her countenance as she emotionally distanced herself from him. “Oh?” For two heartbeats, she stared at him, then spoke again. “I thought you didn’t play games like that.”

  “I don’t.” He saw her brother, Franklin, step toward the hostess stand, so he spoke quickly. “I dated a girl in college, before I fully gave my life to Christ. Seems I have an eight-year-old, perfectly brilliant and beautiful daughter named Lisa. I can’t wait to introduce you two.”

  He watched her face as she processed the information, then she grinned again, all coolness gone, all warmth returned. “Oh, Bobby. What a surprise! Is this good or bad?”

  He smiled. “It is very good.” As Franklin approached, Bobby stood again and held out his hand. “Frank, good to see you.”

  Bobby only called Franklin Frank because no one else dared. Harmony laughed every time. Franklin bristled, but he never reacted. Instead, he took it with as good a spirit as someone as stodgy as he could manage.

  Franklin Harper was probably the only person in Nashville, Tennessee, to wear a three-piece silk suit so late in the spring. Yet, despite what must be a suffocating outfit, he never appeared affected by the heat. He was a little taller than his sister, but very thin, with long pianist’s fingers and a deep receding hairline.

  Bobby knew he adored his sister, but he protected her much like a hawk. When it came to matters of business, Harmony did not speak. Franklin handled it all. But in meetings with Bobby, she always came along. They’d been friends for three years, since she was 19 and trying to release her second album.

  “I thought you were on a sabbatical,” Franklin said, shaking Bobby’s hand.

  “From performing. Still doing a little business here and there.” The two men sat and Harmony picked up her menu again.

  The waitress came over and took Bobby’s steak order. Her cheeks flushed starting the first time he called her “Darlin’.” She took Franklin and Harmony’s salad orders and rushed to the back. After she left, Franklin said, “I appreciate that you offered some promotion for Harmony’s Raleigh concert, Bobby. But I didn’t greatly appreciate you following her song with fanning yourself. The tabloids are already claiming that my sister is carrying your love child.”

  Bobby shrugged. “That right, Frank? But I heard your concert the following night sold out. So…”

  Franklin said, “That is really beside my point.”

  Harmony interjected with, “We’ve already talked about this, Franklin. Let it go. It was fun and I got to sing a song with a very clear gospel message to a secular audience.”

  The waitress brought their salads and the conversation halted until she retreated from earshot. Then Franklin said, “Tell me about this Christmas album.”

  “Harmony, Melody Mason Montgomery, Carson Bridgewater, and me; a quartet. Some solos, some duets, some quartets. It will be amazing. We already have twenty songs picked out to choose from.”

  Franklin pursed his lips. “What about proceeds?”

  “Every dime will go to Montgomery’s Children’s Home Association. They’re building an orphanage in Kenya next year. This project should sufficiently fund the property and building and hire security for the construction.”

  Franklin looked at his sister. “As you know, I’m not crazy about you partnering with secular musicians.”

  Raising her eyebrow, she said, “Of that you have been abundantly clear. However, like I told you before, every one of these artists are proclaiming, practicing Christians. And, not one of them has a song with objectionable lyrics.”

  “Well,” Bobby drawled, “unless you object to dancing. Then you have quite a number of objectionable lyrics.”

  “Bobby!” Harmony laughed.

  Turning serious, he sat forward. “This isn’t secular Christmas, Franklin. You should know me by now. Every song glorifies Christ and celebrates His birth. This album will touch millions. We believe God led us to Harmony to be a part of it with us. I urge you to pray about it before making any firm decisions.”

  As the waitress brought them fresh drinks, their conversation halted. As soon as she was gone, Franklin placed his elbows on the arms of his chair and leaned back, steepling his fingers. “I have prayed about it ever since Harmony discussed it with me. I don’t like it. And if it were anyone but that group you named, or if it were for profit, the answer would be a resounding no. But, as long as we have final say in the songs, then it is a hesitant yes.”

  Relieved, Bobby grinned. “I’ll accept that, Frank.” He winked at Harmony. “Warm up your pipes, girl.”

  “When do we record?”

  “After Melody has the babies. We’re looking at July, which will be pushing the envelope with production, but it’s the best we can do.” He took a long pull of his iced tea.

  Harmony frowned. “Should we just wait until next year?”

  “We may have to, but for now, Mel’s insisting.” He leaned back in his chair when a sizzling steak was placed in front of him. As he shook his head at the siblings’ plates, he laughed. “How do you live on rabbit food?”

  “Very healthily,” Franklin said, accepting the fresh ground pepper from the waiter. “You should give it a go.”

  Harmony sprinkled shaved Parmesan onto her lettuce leaves. “I eat fish. You can’t grow up in the Cascades and not eat fish.”

  Bobby reached out his hands and the Harpers each laid a hand in his so that the three of them formed a circle of prayer. “Frank, would you bless the meal?”

  CHAPTER 14

  Personal Journal Entry

  April 30

  The empty talking heads somehow connected the dots on the women. They’re calling me Richmond Red. It’s disgusting. They’re disgusting. They are stupid, shallow, entitled Philistines, and frankly death is too good for them.

  The surveillance photo they are oh so proud of is grainy and indistinct. Clearly, I need to be more cautious with spontaneous moves.

  To make matters worse, she’s calling me Richmond RED. It makes my blood boil. I vow that before she dies, my name will be the last word on her lips.

  “BOBBY Kent, it’s been too long,” Pastor Douglas Brown said, coming from behind his desk and shaking Bobby’s hand. The handshake turned into a hug, and the two men moved to a pair of chairs near a low table at the other end of the office. “Cassandra will be pleased that you’re back in town,” he added, referring to the choir director of the Nashville megachurch.

  “It’s been a long time, but it’s been a long road, too, Pastor.” Bobby leaned back in the chair and hooked his boot on his knee, then draped his hat on his bent knee. “I’ve had a rather serious – what’s the slang? – a serious life event happen recently.”

  The pastor raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to talk about it?”

  Bobby took a deep breath and felt his eyes burn. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  The pastor stood and put a hand on Bobby’s shoulder as he w
alked by him. He cracked open his office door and said to his secretary, “Mary, go ahead and free me up for the rest of the afternoon.” He returned to his seat. “I find that the best way to start is usually in the beginning.”

  Where would the beginning be? He contemplated for a moment before replying, “When my grandfather died, my family’s horse farm was in serious financial jeopardy. He mismanaged it nearly into the ground, and my father didn’t know how to fix it. I was a senior in high school at the time, and between us and God, I was able to go to college. My dad thought that maybe a formal education would help us save our legacy.

  “In college, I met a girl named Carol.” He paused, thinking back to the first time he’d seen her sitting on that hard metal chair in the classical violin class. She’d already mastered the instrument and sat in first chair almost as soon as the teacher assigned them. Bobby learned right away that he could make her giggle if he’d pop out a jaunty Irish tune or a boot-stompin’ country tune in what he considered a hoity-toity environment. He’d liked the way she laughed.

  He continued, “We started dating. I was rather enamored with her. But before things got serious, or even official between the two of us, I got called to Nashville. The night I got the call, I sought her out and convinced her to celebrate with me. I bought some champagne, because that seemed to be what one did during such a moment, and we took my truck out by the river and, well,” he coughed and felt his cheeks burn, “one thing led to another.”

  Pastor Douglas did not look shocked, nor did he demand Bobby pick up his hat and leave. He simply said, in a gentle voice, “Go on.”

  “I kissed her good-bye the next morning, and that was the last time I saw her. I signed a record deal, recorded my album, and started touring. About midway through my first tour, I realized that while I’d grown up in a churchgoing home, I’d never actually been committed to Christ before. I was doing things I shouldn’t have been, and drinking…”