Crescendo

by Allen Cheney

  Winnie always had a plan. What she did not expect was Fred’s furrowed brow when she made the suggestion. “Why worry? They’ll love you.”

  And so, despite his insecurities, Friday afternoon Winnie and Fred shared the one-hour trek with fellow friends, laughing together in the back seat all the way to Columbus. As the car turned down a pristine lane, a heavy lump rose in Fred’s throat. The Langleys’ neighborhood looked like something from a television show, with a beautiful bower of oaks draped over the shady streets. Each lawn was meticulously maintained, floral wreaths decked every door, and large front porches welcomed visitors. The scene represented everything Fred could have ever wanted—safety, security, family, community. Home.

  Their friends had barely pulled out of the driveway before Winnie’s parents came rushing out with warm hugs. “Fred Allen, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” Mrs. Langley said, insisting he call her Nell. Winnie’s teenage brother, Bill, gave Fred a firm handshake and grabbed the luggage. Mr. Jim Langley made a strong impression too, living up to the family history Winnie had shared during the hour car ride from LaGrange. He had grown up in Camp Hill, Alabama, a very small town of only two or three hundred residents. Unlike Fred’s parents, Jim’s had been determined to nurture his creative talents. At the young age of thirteen, they sent him by train all the way to Detroit, Michigan, where he enrolled in the art school of his dreams. He returned with the skills to land a job as a commercial artist, a career that from the looks of it seemed to be serving him well, more proof that Mrs. Dudley was right. Maybe there really was a way to make a living in the arts.

  As Winnie led Fred into the living room for appetizers, Jim turned on the radio, low in volume, just enough to fill the background with lighthearted melodies. Fred paid close attention to Jim’s behavior, noticing the way he gave his wife a playful wink when she set a tray of deviled eggs on the coffee table and announced, “Help yourselves.”

  Fred followed Winnie’s lead, waiting for her to sit before finding his place on the comfortable sofa. The upholstery was modern, a vibrant display of the family’s artistic nature. The Langleys were proving to be exactly as Winnie had described—joyful and supportive.

  “We’re all eager for Sunday,” Jim began. “Your extraordinary talent is all we’ve been hearing about, Fred. How Winnie’s never met anyone so gifted.”

  “Now, Jim. You’ll embarrass him,” Nell said, passing Fred a small china plate and a monogrammed ivory napkin, its cotton folds ironed perfectly, suggesting that even though they were a forward-thinking family, they still valued southern traditions.

  Fred added one of the halved eggs to his plate although he was far too nervous to eat. In the background the radio played a song about a poor boy trying to make it big. Fred swallowed hard and eyed the others. Had anyone else caught the lyrics? He reached for the fruit, trying to pretend he was someone else.

  “Tell us about yourself,” Jim said. “You grew up in LaGrange?”

  “Yes, sir,” Fred answered. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his background, especially with a man like Jim Langley, a man whose family owned both a funeral home and a furniture store back in Camp Hill, where his father also served as county commissioner.

  “What do your parents do there?” Jim asked. It was a friendly question, a sincere effort to launch neutral conversation, but Fred felt sweat beading across his hairline. What would they think if he told them his family worked at the mill?

  “Oh, you know. I . . . I don’t see them much now that I’m in college,” Fred stuttered and tried to change the subject. “Y’all should have heard Winnie in the last glee club performance. She sang a rendition of ‘Quando me’n vo’ that had the whole room excited.”

  Jim got the hint, and the discussion shifted to Winnie’s dreams of stardom and her family’s belief in her. Then he leaned in and asked, “You’re friends with Johnny York, aren’t you, Fred? Tell us everything we need to know about this fella.”

  “Daddy,” Winnie protested and adjusted her skirt as Fred tried not to trace her fingers with his stare. “You’ll meet Johnny soon. He’s wonderful. Isn’t he, Fred?”

  “Sure,” Fred said. “He’s a stand-up guy.”

  Conversation began to circle the living room with an easy flow, moving through every topic imaginable, from the news of Elizabeth becoming queen of England to current hit songs on the radio to Winnie’s brother Bill’s hopes of one day playing college baseball. There was nothing they didn’t discuss, and Fred found their self-effacing humor a comfort, especially the way they teased one another, delivering playful jabs with wholehearted love and affection.

  “You do realize, Winnie’s a princess,” joked Bill. “Quintessential southern belle.”

  Winnie simply smiled and said, “I see absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

  It seemed laughter was par for the course here in the Langley home. Even when tackling serious topics, Winnie’s father had a sharp wit, and his jokes kept the family’s spirits light.

  “But don’t let her fool you,” Nell said. “Winnie comes from tough stock, Fred. She ever tell you about my family, the Newtons?”

  Fred lifted his brows and turned toward Winnie, curious. “No, ma’am.”

  “Well, I grew up on an Arkansas homestead,” Nell continued. “No running water, no electricity. Did all the work ourselves. Made our own lye soap. Washed clothes in buckets. Cooked on a woodstove. Milked cows. Gathered eggs. Churned butter. You name it, we did it. And I made sure Winnie had those same experiences by sending her by train for extended stays each summer.”

  Fred couldn’t hide his surprise. “Can’t really imagine you milking cows,” he teased.

  “It’s all true,” Winnie confessed. “My grandparents insisted we learn as much as we could. College education was a must, but so were practical life skills.”

  “They stem from Sir Isaac Newton,” Jim said. “Smartest people I’ve ever known.”

  If Fred hadn’t already been impressed by Winnie’s family, he certainly was now. He was also in awe of the sweet relationship he witnessed between Winnie’s parents. They didn’t behave like the adults he’d been around. In fact, the Langleys acted as if they were truly in love. As they sat close together, Jim would pat his wife’s knee or drape his arm around her with a natural affection. She’d lean her head down against her husband’s shoulder or rub his back with gentle approval. They were, especially, nothing like his own parents, who’d never shown a spark of genuine interest in one another, much less a moment of romance in all his life.

  The Langleys seemed at ease, authentic, balanced. A true professional, Jim had developed a strong reputation painting Coca-Cola murals by hand all across the United States. But Nell was equally respected in her job as an office manager for a local internist named Dr. Dillard. Fred could hardly imagine how it would have felt growing up in a family like this one: to spend evenings sharing stories, laughing together around a home-cooked dinner.

  As they moved into the dining room, the entire family helped serve pot roast, salad, and snap beans, plus warm bread pudding for dessert. “Nell makes the most delicious dinners,” Jim said. “I try to do my part, but she’s the one with the culinary talents.”

  When Fred later asked how she’d cooked the bread pudding, she grinned and said, “Family secret,” crediting her grandmother for the heirloom recipe. The entire scene was playing out like one of the episodes of his favorite television show, Mama, a popular program with a beautiful, young actress named Rosemary Rice narrating sentimental stories about her happy fictional family. Not only had the serial served as a regular escape through Fred’s high school years, he still enjoyed watching it every Friday night. It was the closest thing he had found to the kind of homelife he’d always craved. One that served up affection, attention, approval, security. Love.

  After helping Winnie wash the dishes, Fred suggested they take a walk around the neighborhood. It was already dark, but Winnie graciously accepted the invitation and led Fred on a
leisurely stroll as early autumn leaves fell around them. “What do you think?” she asked, eager for Fred’s take.

  “I think you don’t know how lucky you are,” Fred admitted, walking on the street side of the sidewalk, the way any gentleman would do.

  “They’re great, aren’t they?” Winnie beamed.

  “They do seem very happy together,” Fred said, resisting the urge to take her hand. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to marry Winnie and become part of the Langley family. He stepped away instead, trying his best to keep from kissing her right there beneath the moon.

  Above them the stars shone across a milky sky. Night frogs sang in the distance, and porch lights shone yellow across the line of well-manicured lawns. The last of the season’s fireflies dotted the trees as Winnie shouted, “Did you see that? A shooting star! Make a wish! Quick!”

  Fred watched as she closed her eyes, completely lost in the wonder of such simple things. Winnie opened her eyes to see Fred staring at her. She blushed and said, “Tomorrow, I want you to meet the Lands. They’re like family to me, and they’ll just eat you up. They love music as much as we do.” With that, they made their way back to the Langley home.

  The next day Winnie toured Fred around Columbus as promised. They ran through a quick rehearsal at her family church, and then the couple joined the Lands for dinner. After an enjoyable conversation and dinner, Fred charmed them all by playing their piano like a pro as the others gathered around the keys. They each named their requests, failing to find a song to stump Fred, until Winnie slid next to him on the bench and said, “How about ‘Lucky in Love’? From Good News. I’ve been wanting to try it as a duet for the glee club.”

  As his fingers struck the familiar notes, Winnie was alight.

  Lucky in love, lucky in love

  What else matters if you’re lucky in love1

  Fred could not have looked down at the keys even if he’d wanted. He was absolutely captivated by Winnie’s flawless voice and her eyes, aglow.

  The song had barely ended when Mrs. Evelyn Land pulled Winnie to the kitchen. While filling the sink with sudsy water, she gave Winnie a knowing grin.

  “What?” Winnie tightened her jaw, perplexed.

  Evelyn laughed. “Honey, you’re absolutely head over heels in love with that boy. And he’s in love with you too.”

  “Oh, that’s ridiculous,” Winnie argued. “Fred’s just a friend. Nothing more.”

  “Argue all you want,” Evelyn insisted. “Anyone can see the two of you were made for one another. And when you do finally realize what I already know to be true, then he’s going to ask you to marry him. And that means it won’t be too far in the future when you welcome a baby of your own.”

  “Goodness gracious! What on earth was in your cocktail?” Winnie, flustered, grabbed the scrub brush and took her anxious energy out on the dishes.

  “All I’m saying is, don’t forget . . . I want to be the baby’s godmother.”

  Laughter swelled between the two women, and nothing more was said about the handsome music man.

  On Sunday morning Winnie performed her solo while Fred accompanied her on the piano. The wonderful acoustics in the historic church made Winnie’s beautiful voice sound even more glorious. Morning light poured in through the stained-glass windows, and the familiar lyrics carried out across the pews while candle flames flickered in response. As she held the final note of “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” Fred imagined walking the aisle with her, beneath this very steeple. And Winnie, well, Winnie couldn’t help but look at her gifted accompanist and hear the echo of Evelyn’s words: “You’re . . . in love with that boy. And he’s in love with you too.”

  Eleven

  With school in full swing, life was busier than ever. Fred was not only working, taking private voice lessons, tackling a full course load at college, and performing every chance he could get, he also was running the Songs for You radio show with the striking beauty queen whose wedding date was drawing near. With his cohost needing more time off the air, Fred frequently invited his best friend and soloist, Johnny York, to join as a substitute. When Johnny wasn’t available, he began asking Winnie to manage the second microphone.

  When Winnie joined the show, everything changed. Fred felt it the minute the “On Air” sign lit the back wall of the studio, and Winnie’s face shone even brighter with the glow of excitement. It seemed she had been born for the spotlight. She was energetic and passionate, playfully taking the lead as a natural conversationalist between songs. When it came time to read the listener requests, she’d add personal stories about the many people she knew around the region. “Oh, here’s a note from my dear friend Helen. You all know Helen, don’t you? She’s got the most beautiful blonde hair and the kindest heart.” Then she’d go on to charm her way through every request, as if the listeners were right there with them, shooting the breeze.

  By the end of the show, the phones were ringing with callers suggesting Winnie come back the following night. They adored the new guest host. Like Fred, the audience was hooked.

  Just before the end of their freshmen year of college, Miss Georgia resigned, leaving an opening for a permanent new costar. Fred didn’t bother interviewing anyone else. He’d already decided that Winnie was the perfect fit. The chemistry between the hosts was apparent, even over the airwaves, so when Fred asked Winnie to become his official new partner, she excitedly said yes. The next day, they signed a contract, uniting to produce the show.

  Because they were both freshmen studying toward a degree in the performing arts, Fred and Winnie shared most of their classes together. They also sang regionally as a duo on many occasions, and now they were joined in producing Songs for You. Rain, shine, sleet, or snow, the duo shared the six-block walk together back and forth to WTRP five days a week, a routine both performers enjoyed even as Fred fought against his every desire to take Winnie’s hand along the way.

  Soon the two were not only rehearsing and producing their daily show, they were also sharing meals at the dining hall, studying for exams, and booking additional weekend gigs both near and far. Even when they weren’t together, Fred wrote Winnie endearing letters, daring to address them “Dear Partner,” a gesture Winnie found to be both kind and respectful, if not a tad romantic.

  Still, their partnership remained platonic even after Johnny York moved with his family out of state, ending his courtship with Winnie. Despite Winnie’s new single status, Fred and Winnie were reluctant to explore a romance because neither wanted to risk losing such an ideal musical coupling. Both had aspirations to become professional performers, so Fred showed nothing but patience as Winnie continued to introduce him as “friend” or claimed she loved him “like a brother.” It wasn’t until the end of their sophomore year when he finally made his move.

  By then Fred and Winnie had become part of a popular vocal ensemble at LaGrange. They traveled frequently with the other vocalists, who had all become close friends. That evening two of the singers, Julia and Oz, were heading to the drive-in “picture show.”

  “Why don’t you and Winnie tag along with us?” Oz suggested.

  Fred gave it some thought. He and Winnie had shared many moments with these mutual friends, and this could be just another casual outing. But two couples going to a drive-in movie theater could also be considered a double date. Would an invitation like this cross the line for Winnie? Fred wondered. Would she be offended?

  “Don’t wimp out,” Julia nudged. “Everybody knows you two will end up together eventually.”

  A powerful chemistry was definitely brewing between Fred and Winnie, and in the last year their devotion to one another had become stronger by the day. Maybe Oz and Julia were right. Perhaps it was time to test the waters. So that evening, Fred gave it his best shot and invited Winnie to join him, Oz, and Julia for a late-night movie. Much to his surprise, she agreed, and the foursome ventured off in Oz’s car to the drive-in.

  Oz proved to be a pro at double dating, parking near
the back of the crowded lot. The big screen glowed with a hazy light, drawing the buzz of fireflies as a symphony of night sounds swelled around them. The slim moon made the night even darker than usual. Maybe it was the shadowy sky. Maybe it was the back-row privacy. Or maybe it was time. The stars had finally aligned for this dynamic duo. When Fred slid closer, his hip pressing against hers, Winnie didn’t pull away. And when Fred reached for Winnie’s hand, she let him take it.

  Later that evening, after Oz and Julia had gone their separate way, Fred walked Winnie to her dorm. They lingered beneath the moss-draped oaks, stretching the minutes that remained before curfew. With the magic of the movies still in the air, just before Winnie had to race inside for nightly sign-ins, she playfully broke into song right there in the quadrangle: “Summertime, and the livin’ is easy.”1

  As she was singing and spinning beside the wisteria-covered trellises, Fred found himself drawn into a trance. This was the very spot where he had stood when he first laid eyes on her nearly two years earlier. He remembered the moment clearly—she had walked by in her blue dress, and just moments before entering her dorm, she had turned back to offer Fred a subtle smile. His heart had raced that day when Johnny York said her name. And it had raced again the first time he heard her sing these lyrics, when fate had brought them together during Madame’s glee club meeting. Now, Fred knew one thing for sure—he wanted to share the rest of his life with this girl.

  Just as she twirled around to face him, Fred mustered all his courage and pulled her close against him. “Winnie Langley, I want to kiss you.”

  “Then what are you waiting for, Fred Allen?”

  Twelve

  While Fred had spent many weekends getting to know Winnie’s family back in Columbus, she hadn’t yet met Fred’s. By the end of their sophomore year in college, Winnie insisted they take the next step. She sat beside him on the piano bench and said, matter-of-factly, “It’s time I meet your family.”