by Tanya Stowe
Jackson gave his head a little shake. “I’d love it. But I think I might cause a bit of a scene and make it less than enjoyable.”
Dorothy waved a dismissive hand. “The place I have in mind is just down the street from the Burbank Studios. They’re used to seeing stars. Most of the folks who go there are in the business anyway, and the locals who show up aren’t stargazers. We’ll be just fine.”
Jackson slanted a rueful grin in Sunny’s direction. “Well, it’s up to my chauffeur…”
“I think lunch is a great idea.”
~*~
The cafe was exactly as Dorothy described it. A narrow little building jammed in between offices and a boutique. It had a 50’s style counter with high stools on one side of the narrow space and booths on the other. Small tables with metal legs and chairs dotted all the remaining spaces. Miniature jukeboxes sat on each table, with a large Wurlitzer jukebox at the back of the room.
A small but busy crowd filled the tables, and an older lady in a pink dress with white lapels and a white apron led them to a corner. “Flo’s” was embroidered over the pocket of her pink blouse, and her long hair was held in place by a hair net.
Jackson was busy taking it all in.
Dorothy handed him her walker to fold and put away as she eased onto the red vinyl booth seat.
“How are you this morning, Miss Dorothy?”
Jackson jumped a little and quickly moved out of the way of the waitress.
“Just fine, Josie. Don’t mind my young friend here. I think he’s in awe. He’s also afraid he might cause a little commotion.”
One of Josie’s eyebrows rose, and her gaze traveled up and down the length of his body before she shook her head. “In here, we eat youngsters like him for snacks.”
Jackson burst out laughing.
Josie smiled and leaned closer to Dorothy. “We only get riled when the heavy hitters come in…at least, the ones that have been around for a long time. Kids don’t worry us. I’ll be back in just a minute to get your drinks.” She winked at Jackson in a teasing way as she passed.
Still chuckling, Jackson slid into the booth next to Sunny. “I didn’t realize I was dealing with professionals here.”
Dorothy nodded. “Josie’s mother and father opened this place in the fifties. Her mother was the original Flo, and they’ve kept it going all these years with good food, good service, and just enough spunk.”
Jackson laughed again. “Spunk is the right word. I haven’t been put in my place by anyone except my mother since my album went platinum. Feels kinda nice.” Still grinning, he flipped open the menu and was surprised to find biscuits and gravy among the choices. “I’m starting to feel right at home here with these fine southern dishes. They even have grits.”
Josie returned and took their orders. Jackson was a little surprised that Dorothy only ordered toast and tea. Glancing sideways, he noted the slight frown creasing the space between Sunny’s brows, too. Dorothy exuded energy and verve when she talked but, perhaps, her body wasn’t as strong. The thought put a damper on what had been an incredible morning.
Dorothy pointed to the miniature jukebox on the back of the table. “They only install music from the forties and fifties on there. It’s always nice for me to hear the old tunes played like they used to sound.”
“Sunny tells me you played the club circuit.”
“I did. For ten, maybe twelve, years. Put off having my boys until I was older. I started out as a young thing, singing in contests and local events. Caught the eye of a bandleader by the name of James Fenton. He took me on, trained me, treated me like a daughter. He bought his own place, and we played his club for years. He used to invite all the big names and they came. Benny Goodman. Duke Ellington. We’d stay after the club closed, just jamming until the sun came up. But the war ended all that. Most of the boys went off to fight. Lost some good musicians, too. But some of them came home…like my Tom.”
Dorothy shrugged. “After that, we were anxious to start our family. I’d waited so long to have children I didn’t want to miss a minute of it, so I left the club scene. It wasn’t good for family life, so Tom left, too. Started playing for the studios. It was good work.”
“It must have been amazing to work with Goodman and Ellington.”
Dorothy nodded. “They were such musicians. They could play like nobody’s business.” A haunting smile lifted her lips.
Josie brought their food.
Jackson was starving. After the prayer, he dug into food that was surprisingly good. “I think I’ve found another favorite place to eat.” He smiled at Sunny, but she was focused on Dorothy’s plate. The older lady hadn’t touched her toast and barely sipped her tea.
Distracted, Sunny’s lips lifted in a slight smile. “Good. I’m glad.” She was obviously worried about her friend.
Concern stole some of his appetite as well, but he took Sunny’s cue and didn’t question the older lady. He wadded up his napkin and tossed it onto his plate.
Dorothy spoke again. “You know that number one song of yours puts me in mind of something Glenn Miller did.”
Jackson had the feeling she’d been waiting for him to finish.
“You wrote it, didn’t you?”
“Glenn Miller?” Jackson was stunned to be compared to such a great artist. “Yeah…yeah. I write most of my own music. But I don’t know how you can hear hints of his songs in mine.”
Dorothy waved a hand. “It wasn’t a popular song, but it was always one of my favorites. I made sure we put it in every one of my sets.” She started to hum then began to sing. Her voice warbled slightly but grew stronger as she sang.
Even with weak vibrato, Jackson could see why she’d made a living as a singer. Her voice was rich and pure, and her expression was unique. He recognized the tune, but her rendition was different, and it did put him in mind of his own song.
When she finished, Sunny began to clap. Her smile was beaming with pleasure. Jackson could have sat there for hours watching her lovely, sparkling smile and glowing aura.
Dorothy waved away their applause with a swipe of her hand.
“You definitely have style, Dorothy. I think I’ll hear your rendition in my head whenever I sing that song.”
She smiled. “I learned how to scat early on, and it taught me a lot about feeling the song, about changing the tempo and the tone. Here, I’ll show you. Give me a chorus of your song.”
Jackson cleared his throat, took a deep breath, and began to sing. Dorothy echoed him with an upbeat harmony that mimicked the Miller song. It was great. Jackson was in heaven. Just as they hit the last chorus, a deep baritone across the restaurant joined them. Startled, Jackson hunted for the source of the voice. An older man with graying hair and a neatly trimmed beard waved at Dorothy.
“Oliver Hunt! Come on over here and meet this young man.”
Oliver and Jackson shook hands, and the older man pulled up a chair.
“Oliver just retired from the studio where I worked,” Dorothy told Jackson. He’s got nothing better to do than show up here and sit around with the rest of the old men.”
“That’s the truth of it, Dorothy.” They both laughed. “I was just showing Jackson here how to scat. But you could do it much better.”
“Wait.” Sunny held up a hand. “Tell this poor, toneless listener what scat is.”
“It’s the vocal runs you hear in jazz, honey. No words, just feeling the music,” Dorothy said.
“I’d be happy to show you. But let’s do it right.” Oliver motioned his lunch partner over, and the man joined them. “This is Jim. He’s a true tenor. Why don’t you two sing that nice little ditty you just did, and Jim and I’ll join in when we can.”
Jackson nodded and hit the chorus of his song. Dorothy sang in harmony, and the two men hit the highs and lows with unbelievable jazz runs. Jackson loved it and could barely sit still.
When they finished, everyone in the eatery began to clap.
They tipped their heads i
n thanks, and then Oliver launched into a Johnny Cash song that Jackson knew well. As soon as he picked up the tune, Oliver spun into his own riffs. Jim and Dorothy joined them. They did two more songs then finished with a perfect, four-part harmony of Amazing Grace.
Some folks stood to applaud. Jackson waved and thanked them all. The thrill of singing with these folks made him feel as if he was on the stage of a sold-out concert. He would have started again, but Sunny gripped his arm and sent him a telling glance.
Dorothy was slightly out of breath and leaning back in her chair. Jackson paused before turning to his partners in the impromptu performance. “It’s been a pleasure, an absolute pleasure. I wish I could stay longer, but I’ve got to be going. I’m moving into my new digs, and Sunny has kindly offered to help. I don’t want to eat up her whole day.” He carefully kept his gaze from darting to Dorothy but he was certain the two men were as aware as he of the woman’s weary state.
They rose and said their good-byes.
Oliver even dipped over Dorothy’s hand and gave it a kiss. “See you next week, old girl.”
“Count on it.”
“I think maybe we’d better get you home.” Sunny stood and helped Dorothy to her feet.
“Yes, I’m a little tired.”
Josie patted Dorothy on the shoulder as they headed toward the door. “Bring the kid back with you anytime, Miss Dorothy.”
6
Sunny cast a worried glance at her passenger.
Dorothy had been quiet since they’d left the restaurant. She had leaned back in her seat and rode with her eyes closed.
Sunny met Jackson’s gaze in the rearview mirror. A quick nod confirmed he understood her concern. He’d felt her emotion without her having spoken a word. They’d only known each other a few days, but they seemed to have an unspoken connection. That link felt wonderful and terrifying at the same time.
Dorothy, who had been dozing, jerked awake and took a deep breath. “Well, that helped a lot.” She looked at Sunny. “I want to thank you two for one of my best days in a long time. What fun that was!”
Sunny smiled.
From the backseat, Jackson said, “Fun? That was absolutely fabulous. I’d love to do it again.”
“You know where I am. Anytime you’re free, just holler.”
“Don’t open that door. You may be sorry.”
Dorothy laughed. “Handsome and kind.” Reaching over, she patted Sunny’s arm. “You’d better hang onto this one.”
Sunny caught her breath. Hanging on was exactly what she didn’t want to do. “You know hanging on is not in the plan, Dorothy.” Her tone was low, but she was sure Jackson heard so she added, “Besides, we just met, and he’s not mine to hang onto.”
Dorothy humphed. “You know my thoughts on that, too.”
Sunny knew them well. Dorothy often told her that happiness was a rare thing and when one found it, one needed to grab it with both hands. She always said the war taught her that, and it was a lesson she’d tried hard to pass on. But Sunny had her own lessons to remember, and they had nothing to do with personal happiness. Sunny insisted on accompanying Dorothy inside her house. “Can I fix you a cup of tea?”
“No, I’ll just sit here and rest some more. That’s all I need. Just a little cat nap. You and Jackson go on about your day.”
“All right. But I’ll call later to check on you.” Sunny kissed her friend’s cheek.
Jackson grasped Dorothy’s hand and patted it before they headed out the door. On the way to the car, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “You know it’s almost two o’clock, and we still have to load my things and stop at the grocery store. Maybe I should make other arrangements. I don’t want to cut into more of your day.”
“I don’t mind.” She really didn’t. She’d enjoyed every minute with him. Whether he was good or bad for her future, she wasn’t ready for the day to end. “But I do know a way to speed things up. Do you have a list of things you want from the store?”
“No, but I can make one while we drive back to my hotel.”
“Great. I’ll call it in while you finish packing and we can pick it up on our way to Malibu.” Sunny pulled into the underground parking and found a place near the edge so she would have cell phone reception. “Unless you need my help, I’ll stay here and make the call.”
“Nope, no help needed. I’m all packed. Just have to load it up and check out. I’ll be right back.” He handed her his phone. “Here’s my list.” Jackson hopped out of the car and jogged to the elevator.
Sunny called the store. He’d left out some essentials like salt and pepper and she added them to the order. Of course, he had the basics. Bread. Steak and potatoes. She laughed but her mood soured a bit when the salesperson said it would be forty-five minutes before the order was ready.
True to his word, Jackson was back in twenty minutes. They loaded his two suitcases and guitar into the back.
“All right. Let’s go.”
“Unfortunately, your order won’t be ready for a while.”
“Oh man…I am taking up your whole day. This wasn’t my intention. I’m really sorry.”
“Are you kidding?” Sunny shook her head and gazed at the narrow slant of sunlight between the concrete levels of the parking structure. “Today was a blessing for many reasons.” Dark images flashed in her mind, sending a chill through her body. She slammed the back door of her SUV, stalked to the front, and slid into the driver’s seat. She stared ahead, forcing other, happier memories to the surface.
Jackson climbed into the car, but sat silent for a long while. “For someone who says today was a blessing, you’re awfully quiet.”
She took a deep breath. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”
“You don’t owe me anything. But Sunny.” He reached across the space and grasped her hand. His grip was warm and strong and oh, so comforting. It compelled her to look at him. “I’d consider it an honor if you would tell me.”
There it was again…that connection. One side of his face was shadowed, but the light from outside lit the other. Jackson’s expression was open, sincere…and he was so doggone handsome, he took her breath away with his chiseled lips and a strong, smooth jaw. She yearned to reach across and stroke her fingers along his chin. The warmth in his brown eyes melted the last of the dark memories.
“You made Dorothy so happy today. Her health has been failing the last few months, but today, she was alive and full of energy. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did.”
He shook his head, started to protest.
One of her hands still rested in his grip, so she reached across with her other and pressed a finger to his lips. They looked so firm, but those lips were amazingly soft. She could have stopped, released the pressure, but the contact elicited such a pleasant little tingle. “I know you enjoyed yourself. But, still, you were incredibly kind and considerate. And your little jam session? It was a gift to me as well.”
His eyes narrowed in question.
Still, she lingered, let her fingertip slide down over his chin, felt the rasp of a late afternoon beard. Something told her she wouldn’t forgot the feel of his smooth skin and that rasp for a long time. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to stare at the bright light outside the structure, and gripped his hand tighter. “I lost my father to a drug overdose when I was thirteen.”
Jackson said nothing, almost as if he knew words would break her momentum.
“When he died, I didn’t mourn. I was glad…relieved it was finally over. His life had been one long, downward spiral for as long as I could remember. He lost everything, even the home I loved in Malibu, and disappeared. My mom and I found him months later on skid row. He was filthy. He had sores all over his hands and face, and his beard was crawling with…who knows what. We tried to get him to come with us. A rehab place had agreed to take him, but he refused. A week later the police showed up at our door to tell us he was in the hospital. He’d been stabbed twice over some heroin and a
bottle of whiskey. One night, he crept out of the hospital and overdosed, and this time it worked. He died.” She paused then and looked at Jackson. If she’d seen pity on his face, she couldn’t go on.
But his features were open, his brown eyes warm and full of understanding.
Swallowing hard, she continued. “Those were the memories I had of my father. For a long time, I hated him. Not so much for myself—I didn’t have anything left to miss or cry over. But for my mother. She tried to shelter me, but when she thought I was asleep, I’d hear her crying. I think she loved him right up until the end.”
Her throat clogged, and she cleared it. “Not long after my dad died, my mom met Bill, my stepfather. She found happiness and, I think, peace. It took me a lot longer to forgive. After years of prayer and counseling with my pastor, I came to understand my father’s addiction was a disease. I found my peace—and a purpose.”
Pausing, she swallowed again. “Today…watching you and Dorothy, I had a happy memory.” She gave him a slight smile. “My dad was a great musician. He had jam sessions at our beach house all the time. He’d play the piano and his friends and clients would bring their guitars. I didn’t realize it then, but so many famous people passed through our living room. Today brought back those happy times. My mom would walk up behind my dad while he played. She’d lay her hands on his shoulders and he’d turn his head and kiss her hand. Then he’d look at me and wink. Every time. Without fail. He’d turn and look for both of us.”
The sunlit scene outside the parking structure disappeared behind a veil of tears. She closed her eyes and hot streams ran down her cheeks. She couldn’t go on.
Jackson gripped her hand and squeezed. He was warm and strong, and somehow, he gave her some of that strength.
She opened her eyes. “He loved us…once,“ she whispered. “I was born of love. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to know that. Thank you for reminding me.”
Tilting his head slightly, Jackson wiped the tears on one side of her face with the backs of his fingers. He cupped her cheek and slid his thumb along the other side. Then he smiled, with a small lift of his lips.