Charley

by Shelby C. Jacobs

  I was stunned.

  He’s doing what? For me? He’s giving up coaching for me? No way!

  I started laughing. “You are one sweet, crazy man. Wait until you hear what I’ve done. I’ve been thinking and talking, and thinking some more about us, and particularly what is keeping us apart. I decided something as well. I decided that we are more important than I.”

  “What?”

  “On my desk, is a binding agreement to sell Jimmy’s Bar and Grill to Ronnie. He’s in the process now of arranging financing. When the money is available, I will walk away from the Bar with a tidy sum. Additionally, on Friday, I have an appointment with my realtor to list the condo. Also, I have a letter of resignation ready to present to the Chamber meeting next week. I want to come live with you.”

  Saying it out loud made me realize how much I meant it. I couldn’t sit still any longer. I jumped up and ran to him before he could get up. He was startled when I climbed onto his lap.

  “I want us to have three kids, and I want to go to the parent conferences and bake cookies, and take my kids to play soccer, and be known to one and all as the Coach’s wife. If you and I, that is we, are not together then my world just can’t be complete!”

  Epilogue

  Pastor John married us in March, after PJ took his team to a third straight NCAA Tourney. PJ resigned, and Jerry Mason was named coach of the team.

  PJ wouldn’t let me resign as President of the Chamber, but I wouldn’t be returning the next year for a second term.

  We moved into my condo, and on our anniversary had a little girl named Kathryn Howard McCoy.

  Ronnie wasn’t able to raise the money for the Bar, primarily because he didn’t have the right management experience. So I sold it to him for one dollar.

  I didn’t need the money. I had plenty from the insurance and ongoing income from the building lease. A year later, Shelby Loomis retired from his bank, sold it to an out of state financial service company, and joined Ronnie running the Bar. They now have the Bar downtown as well as one in the upscale Green Hills area, and another in the up and coming young adult scene in the Gulch.

  After his two year commitment to Bob Wells, PJ confessed he hated what he was doing. He hated the deadlines, and he hated the year round pressure to produce interviews, articles and sports coverage. He hated not being involved with the young athletes. And he especially hated being gone from Katy and me.

  I told him. “Honey, I trust you. Do what you think best and I’ll follow you wherever we need to go.”

  The next week, PJ came home with a relaxed and happy smile and said. “I quit … effective in thirty days.”

  PJ approached Dr. Underwood, his former Athletic Director at Curtis for advice. Dr. Underwood had an old friend who made it big in the hospital and healthcare business in Nashville. He was heading a group of investors, including several well known country music stars, who were starting a small college in a city, just south of Nashville, TN.

  PJ met with the investors, and he was hired immediately as the new school’s first Athletic Director and basketball coach.

  With my connections, and a small investment, I convinced Vincent Smith and his wife Marlene, the former chef for the Curtis Athletic Department, to open a steak house in downtown Nashville, which we called Vincent’s Steak House. PJ and I are silent partners. I am a member of the Nashville Chamber of Commerce, and on the Board of the Williamson County Boys and Girls Club. PJ is the Athletic Director of the Spring Hill University Cavaliers. He gave up coaching several years ago.

  We attend a small Community Church near our home.

  I work in the nursery. PJ is a deacon.

  We bought fifty-five acres of beautiful land in the horse country in suburban Williamson County. We have three horses in the barn, two outdoor cats and three dogs. Our closest neighbor is the country home of folk singers Darleen McGarraghy and her husband Cliff.

  The house has five bedrooms, an Olympic sized pool complete with waterfalls, and an outside basketball court.

  Kate, as she now insists on being called, is three, and I’m pregnant with a boy this time. We are going to name him James Phillip McCoy. We plan to call him Jimmy, but will probably shorten it to JP. We want to have another baby to round out the family. Whether a boy or girl, we are going to name the baby Shelby, after my dad.

  *****

  *****

  The beautiful First Presbyterian Church was a perfect setting for a formal funeral, one that befits a deceased member of a prominent family of the area. The minister finished his remarks, and paused before offering the closing prayers.

  “Does any of the family wish to say a word?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  The butterflies came awake as I stood up, and walked to the podium with the package under my arm. Mom would just love to be hiding among the gargoyles and statues, watching us grieve. She always had a quirky sense of humor. And here I was, about to join hands with her, in an announcement guaranteed to cause consternation among our little uptight family group. Mom was a free spirit. She really didn’t care what others thought of her. Dad, who died five and a half years ago, was the same way. I remember her telling me.

  ‘When I found your dad, he was everything I ever wanted. I never cared what anyone thought as long as he was happy. We gave up so much for each other that nothing else mattered.’

  There are three of us children.

  Me, my older sister Kathryn, and my older brother JP. Kate and JP both went to private high schools and the best colleges. They met interesting but decidedly dull future spouses, and finally proceeded to marry them along with their equally dull, boring families. They are all well to do conservative Republicans, always careful not to rock the social or political boat, for fear of losing that so called hard earned wealth. I have to admit too, my sister and brother have grown to be just like the families into which they married.

  As for me? I remain a free spirit like my mom; equally at home, in church, down in the bar, or out on the streets with the homeless. I might be a little nervous in the corporate Board room. However, I do own a little Bar and Grill in downtown Nashville. I don’t know where I went wrong. I am a writer.

  Anyway, I digress.

  “Hello,” I said calmly, at the front of the congregation. “I’m the family’s black sheep. Mom asked me to read a note to you all, so here goes.”

  ******

  Dear family and friends, if this is being read, I have gone to be with Dad. Please, no tears, I’m happy. I found what I truly wanted in life when I found him, and now I am going to spend eternity in his arms.

  My youngest has a manila envelope. In the envelope is the story of how your Dad and I met and fell in love. We have been talking this book into existence since Dad died. I wanted to wait until I died to have it published. We changed some of the names, but you will recognize everyone. Every word is true and everything happened. This is our love story. I wanted our family to know how very much in love we were and why.

  And, I wanted you all to know that Dad and I were not always the strait laced folks we became.

  Thank you Shelby for all your help.

  Signed

  Charlotte “Charley” Jacobs

  The End

  About the Author

  Shelby Jacobs is a master storyteller, who puts you immediately into the middle of the tale to experience all the emotions, hopes, dreams and challenges of the protagonist. Whether it is science fiction, adventure, thriller or romance, you are there, immersed and engaged. For a few minutes or a few hours, you are transformed into the character herself. In the case of "Charley", you become the young Charley Howard, and directly experience her romance, her hopes, and her disappointments.

  This is Shelby Jacobs’ first published novel.

  More information on Shelby Jacobs, including an author interview, further updates on the background to Charley and other future books in progress can be obtained on the website:

  http://www.shelbyjacobsnovels.com
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  Charley is available worldwide on Amazon Kindle and in paperback print from Amazon and other good booksellers.

  Connect with author Shelby Jacobs online.

  Email: Shelby@ShelbyJacobsNovels.com

  Twitter: @SJacobsNovels

  Publisher is Creative Gateway Publishing and Books, based in Norfolk, England.

  For more information visit: http:// www.creativegateway.com

  Excerpt from Loose Ends

  All murders leave loose ends to be tied up.

  The murder of Randle Brewster and Leonard Martin left two particular loose ends; Jimmy Brewster and Charley Howard Brewster …

  Prologue

  The street sweeper slowly rumbled up Second Avenue clearing the trash left from the late night revelries. In the summer, every night was a night to party in Music City. Tourists flocked to the country music venues that lined the intersection of Broadway and Second Avenue. They always left a big mess.

  It was 4:15 in the morning and time for the inhabitants of the night to hand over the city to the cleaning crews in preparation for the imminent influx of hard working respectable citizens working in the business towers. In the darkness of the doorway to the Cowboy Club, a shadow moved about. Nervously surveying the empty street, the shadow looked for a chance to cross Second quickly and sprinted north to the next murky haven.

  After the street sweeper had cleared, he eased out of the doorway and edged up the street, hugging the wall until he could made it across the street and another fifty yards closer to the safety of his own business, Jimmy's Bar and Grill. A police car passed on a final inspection before heading back for the morning shift change. The man stooped behind the trash cans on the street until the car passed. He waited until the car made the turn at Church Street and then he broke into a sprint across the street leaping on to the curb and hurrying up the side.

  He counted, one restaurant, a tee shirt shop, almost there. Almost …then he heard the squeal of tires as the black SUV turned off Broadway and accelerated up Second. An expletive escaped his tight lips and his pace quickened. One more doorway; he fumbled in his pocket for his keys as he ran, almost there, hurry, hurry. Finally there!

  The black vehicle screamed up the street, jumped the curb and raced up the sidewalk toward him. He fell into the doorway trying desperately to put his key in the lock as brakes squealed and the SUV slid opposite the doorway and the terrified man. The passenger door opened. A small fireplug of a man eased out.

  "Hello, Randle, what's your hurry? I thought we were having such a good talk. You didn't have to sneak out like that. I would have brought you home."

  “Schmidt, I told you, I can't tell you anything about Martin's business. I’m just a runner for him. I don't know anything, honestly.”

  “Look asshole, I know Martin paid for you to go to go to school. He's been training you for years. You think I’m stupid? Look into my eyes. You've been his bookkeeper for years.”

  The fireplug's face changed. Gone were the smile lines. Gone were the open arms expressions. “Look Randle, I’m going to take over this town, you know it as well as I do. Now I’m a generous man and you have the sort of talents I can use, so I’ll give you one more chance. Come work for me. I'll pay you more than Martin. And as an added special benefit, I’ll let you live. Come on Randy boy, what do you say?"

  “Please Mr. Schmidt; Martin will kill me if I go with you. I'll leave town instead. Please, I have a baby on the way. We’ll leave Nashville and never come back, please Mr. Schmidt, please.”

  Schmidt looked at the man on his knees. With a sneer, he turned to his driver and nodded “Bruce” before getting in the car and rolling up the window.

  The shot was clean, perfectly centered between the man's eyes. He slumped back, with his eyes wide open and fear still covering his distorted face …

  Chapter One

  August can be especially brutal in Nashville. The sun had gone behind the downtown skyscrapers. But even at 5:00 it felt like one hundred degrees. I had just finished a twelve hour shift and was ready for a hot shower and a soft bed after a brief visit to my hangout, Jimmy’s Bar and Grill.

  Jimmy’s is on Second Avenue a short way north of the developing tourist attractions along Lower Broadway. Numerous country music shops, bars and restaurants called Broadway home. The Ryman Auditorium, the former home and current shrine of country music was a block off Broadway and shared an alley with the bars along the glitter of the street. But Jimmy’s remained a comfortable hangout for politicians, police officers and, surprisingly, one of the few petty crime bosses left in the city.

  The cold air sent a refreshing chill through me as I stepped inside the small outer waiting room. Admittedly it was better than the awful temperature outside, but it still sent a shock through my system. Straightening my tie, I walked through the arch into the cool darkness of the Bar and sat at my usual seat next to the door. “Lloyd, how about a draft? In fact go ahead and bring me my happy hour second as well.”

  “Coming up Bobby. Say, Charley is back. Looks good.”

  “She always did, Lloyd, always did. You say she’s back?”

  Charlotte Howard had been my first love. I was a year ahead of her in school. She was my first kiss, my first sexual encounter. After tenth grade I never looked at another girl. She made me comfortable. We knew we would get married as soon as we graduated. But I screwed up; I joined the Navy and things never were the same after.

  Charley, I gave her that nickname because she was such a jock, and jocks just aren’t named Charlotte, went to The University of Tennessee in Knoxville on a basketball scholarship. Because I was in the military, we never could find time to be together. Love was hard to sustain with me stationed in Norfolk and her playing big time college basketball. We just fell out of love before either of us knew it. We went our separate ways. Worse mistake I ever made letting her get away.

  I suddenly felt melancholy, as the memory of what might have been seeped into my thought. I may have missed out on Charley Howard but I finally found love; I smiled when the image of Debbie Wilson faded into view, my fiancé. I gave her a ring last week. We both were surprised that macho Bobby Wagner, the typical non-committal man, actually made a decision to settle down. The nostalgic gloom brought on by memories of Charley quickly gave way to joy; I guess the thought of Debbie released a bunch of endorphins in my brain.

  My beer hadn’t arrived, so I turned to wave at Lloyd and give him a hard time. A little irritated I twisted on the barstool and started to shout over the den of conversation from the happy hour crowd. “Hey Lloyd, how about …” But my words died on my tongue. Standing next to me, in a bright teal blouse and tight fitting jeans, staring at me with those big intoxicating blue eyes and the familiar long flowing dark brown hair stood Charley!

  Her electric smile transformed me. “Buy me a drink, Bobby?” The words rolled off her tongue as easily as water flows gently down a stream, clear, clean and refreshing.

  “Charley, what the …where did you spring from? Damn it girl, don’t scare me like that.” I stammered as I twisted my stool toward her, slid to the floor and threw my arms around her. “Lloyd said you were back. I am so glad to see you again.” I took a deep breath and gushed, “How are you? Feeling better?”

  She looked perfect to me, but I knew the events of the last few months had taken their toll. She was thinner and paler than anybody should be in the summer. But she still had her smile. It had been that smile, innocent, sweet, and full of life that always melted me away. I knew I was engaged to Debbie and I truly loved her, but I still always loved Charley in some form or other.

  “It’s good to be back, Bobby. Dr. Cox gave me a weekend pass because I was feeling so cooped up at Grace Mercy. I needed to see familiar people and places; those sterile walls and the same people and the constant observations were driving me crazy.” She laughed. “Everyone thought I was crazy anyway.”

  “You’re not crazy, a little weird maybe,” I joked. “I would be too after what you
went through.” I held her at arm’s length and gushed. “You look perfect.”

  Suddenly a dark cloud dimmed that radiant smile. “Bobby, those first few weeks were hell. I spent a lot of days balled up on my bed just rocking and crying. I didn’t know why I was crying, I didn’t even know who I was.” She dropped her head and whipped away a small tear.

  My heart went out to her. I wanted to hug her and shake her and kiss her and tell her she was safe now. All I could do was hug her gently as her body trembled. Slowly she regained control and raised her head, flipped a wisp of hair back into place and smiled again through the tears. “Bobby, you’ve always been my best friend, Thanks.”

  I just didn’t know what to say. “How long will you be home? Where are you going to stay?”

  “I have to go back to Grace Mercy, Monday morning,” she said through a forced smile. “I’m going to stay in the apartment upstairs with Jimmy. He’s going to let me use the spare bedroom. Dr. Cox wants me to re-connect with the people and things I knew. Why don’t you bring Debbie over for dinner Sunday night, my treat?”

  Relieved at the change in the conversation, I replied. “Debbie would love to see you again, 7:00 Okay?”

  “Seven is perfect. Say, when are you going to ask her to marry you? It’s time, you know.”

  “I asked her last week. Complete surprise!”

  “And she said yes? I’m so happy for you Bobby, Debbie is the sweetest, nicest girl I know. I hope the two of you will be as happy as Randle and I were.”

  She bounced off the bar stool and hugged my neck. Her hands grabbed my face and she kissed my cheek and my forehead and finally planted a friendship kiss on my lips. I just smiled and received her congratulations.