Jane's Harmony (Jane's Melody #2) Page 22

  “Why’d you stop?” she asked.

  “I’m just not feeling it.”

  “Not feeling it?”

  “Sorry. A love ballad just isn’t the right song for us. I want to play the song I showed you. The one I wrote.”

  “Caleb, we offered them both to the producers and this is the song they want. And it’s also what America wants to hear.”

  “I’m not interested in playing what America wants to hear. I want to play what I want to say. This song doesn’t feel real.”

  “Why can’t you just fake it until you make it?” she asked.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just pretend you feel it and maybe you will.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to feel it,” he said, setting the guitar down on the bed and standing to leave.

  He had crossed the room and was reaching for the door handle when he felt Jordyn’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Please, don’t go.”

  He paused but didn’t turn to face her. A kind of quiet guilt was sitting in his gut like a bellyful of cold water, and although he wasn’t entirely sure why it was there, he didn’t like any of the possibilities that came to mind.

  “Come on, Caleb. This is a big week for us.”

  He turned, but she kept her hand on his shoulder and let it cross over in front of her so that her forearm was now resting against his chest. She looked up at him and blinked her long black lashes, and her eyes pleaded for him to stay.

  “Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

  They stood looking at each other.

  Sunlight filtered in through the sheer curtains, illuminating the edges of Jordyn’s hair, and an aureole of white light surrounded her face, giving her the appearance of some young angel beamed in through the window to beg him to return with her to heaven. He was searching for the courage to break the spell, willing himself to turn now and leave, when her computer rang and a face popped up on its screen. She looked back.

  “Oh, this is perfect timing. My producer’s calling on Skype and I wanted you to meet him.”

  She turned to answer the call, but the door was already closing behind Caleb as she said hello.

  He paused for the briefest moment in the hall, with his hand still on the handle before he let it latch and walked away, headed for the rehearsal room to practice on his own guitar, the one Jane had bought for him as a gift.

  Chapter 17

  When the day had finally arrived, Caleb could never have guessed how much pressure and panic went on backstage in preparation to pull off a live TV show. There were handlers running everywhere, reminding people when they were due onstage, and what their cues were, and when they should exit and how. The makeup artists were constantly on the move, touching up lip gloss and powder, and then circling back to start again. And the producer walked through it all, hollering at everyone to hurry up, as if they were all sitting around doing nothing and needed his motivation.

  In the midst of all this chaos, Jordyn was the only one who seemed perfectly at home. She was standing in front of a mirror while a stylist pinned her dress, holding her guitar and striking different poses, as if to determine which angle might be her best.

  “You sure seem to be enjoying this,” Caleb said, stepping up beside her at the mirror.

  “This is nothing,” she said. “I used to do pageants when I was a kid, and they were way crazier backstage than this.”

  “Was that before or after junior Juilliard?”

  “Hey, I told you that in confidence,” she said, nodding toward the woman at her hem.

  The stylist didn’t even look up from the dress. “Don’t worry,” she said, taking a pin from her mouth, “we don’t hear a thing. Just ignore us like everyone else does.”

  Jordyn looked Caleb up and down in the mirror. “You look silly in that suit.”

  “Yeah, well, you look equally ridiculous in that stupid dress,” he retorted. Then he glanced at the stylist and quickly added, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to dig on your costume.”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” she said. “I just make sure they fit, I don’t design them. And I agree, it does look ridiculous.”

  Jordyn huffed and shook her head. “Oh, you two are great to have in my ear before I go out onstage in front of millions of people. I could have used you at those pageants to help lower my self-esteem when I was a girl. And the dress goes with the song, Caleb.”

  “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m kind of having second thoughts about the song.”

  “It’s a little late now. It’s already cued up and approved.”

  “But I like the one I wrote better.”

  “No way. It’s too moody. We need votes, honey.”

  “Don’t call me honey.”

  “Whatever. We need votes. You ever watch those other singing shows? I’ll bet you do. You don’t? Well, if you did, you’d know that the country girl always wins. Why? Because America loves country. And that means until we get Carrie Ann off the show, we need to pull some of that vote.”

  “Fine,” he said. “But next week we sing mine.”

  She looked as if she wanted to argue but she didn’t even get the chance, because the producer appeared at the door, waving his clipboard and yelling at them from across the room.

  “Jordyn. Caleb. We need you stage-side five minutes ago.”

  They stood just offstage and watched from behind a partition as Jasmine finished a ballad that brought the audience to its feet. She bowed and smiled and faced the judges as if to see whether she was going through, even though the vote was now in the viewers’ hands. The judges all threw her bouquets of praise, and then the host hugged her and looked into the cameras and told America to be sure to vote for her after the show. Then the applause faded, the lights brightened, and sound technicians flooded the stage and reset the microphones for Jordyn’s and Caleb’s guitars. The digital backdrop switched to a country sunrise. The producer called for quiet on the set.

  “Live in five, four, three, two, one.”

  The host bounded onstage and grinned into the cameras. “Welcome back, America. If you didn’t already know this show was special, you will after hearing these next two artists perform live. They met on our set and formed a bond that couldn’t be broken, a bond so strong they decided to go on together as a duo. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the newly formed duo Jordyn and Caleb Entwined.”

  “That’s your cue,” the producer whispered. “Go, go, go!”

  Jordyn switched her guitar into her other hand and took Caleb’s hand in hers and led him out onstage. It happened so fast he had no time to think, let alone protest. They faced the cameras and the crowd, and bowed. Then they took their places on their stools and plugged in their guitars, just as they’d rehearsed.

  The crowd had disappeared behind the bright lights but Caleb knew they were there. Just as he knew the cameras were there too. The background music started, the big camera panned across them slowly on its robotic boom, and Jordyn plucked the opening notes on her guitar. Caleb fell in behind the beat and joined her, and then even though they hadn’t rehearsed it, she smiled into the camera and said, “This is for all you lonely lovers out there.”

  Then they began to sing.

  Caleb sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows resting on his knees, one hand holding his bowed head while the other held the phone to his ear.

  “Did Marj watch it with you? What did she think?”

  “She loved it,” Jane said. “She gave you a standing ovation right here in our living room. Buttercup loved it too. You got three yips and a bark.”

  “Did you vote?”

  “Did we vote? We sat here texting for two hours. Or at least, I did. Marj has a landline and she ran over there and dialed the eight hundred number a hundred times. Don’t worry, baby. I know
without a doubt that you’re going through. You sounded great. You looked great. Except, what was with that hat and that silly bell-bottomed suit?”

  “Oh gosh, I know. It was terrible, right? Jordyn seems to think we need to court the country vote. Can you imagine? I’ve got mad respect for country music, but dressing like Jim Reeves is not really my thing.”

  “Well,” Jane said, sighing into the phone, “when you’re entwined with someone else, you have to make sacrifices.”

  “Come on, Jane. I told you I didn’t pick the name. Jordyn didn’t either. It was the stupid producers.”

  “I know, I know. I’m just razzing you. It’s a good name.”

  “Well, knock it off,” he said. “I’m sick over this whole thing. I feel like a fraud or something. Like a sellout.”

  “You’re not a sellout, baby. It’s only for TV.”

  “It’s just that I miss you, Jane.”

  “I miss you too. You know what I did today? I sure wasn’t getting my face powdered under any lights. I was walking my route and stepped in the biggest puddle of puke you’ve ever seen. Looked like hamburger meat and cottage cheese. And there was a trail of it leading to the culprit sleeping in a church doorway. Middle of the afternoon too. The smell followed me until I finally threw the shoes away and bought new ones.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. That sucks. But what were you doing writing tickets at a church?”

  “It’s on my route,” she said. “I walk where they tell me to walk. But I do have a confession for you.”

  “Let me guess. You miss me so much that you voted for someone else, hoping I’d come home?”

  “No, silly head. Although I do miss you. But it’s just the opposite. As I was passing the church, I prayed for you to win if you’re supposed to. Is that selfish and wrong?”

  “Considering you had just stepped in a parishioner’s puke, I think you were entitled to one selfish prayer. Are you going to watch the results show tomorrow?”

  “I can’t, baby. It’s Thursday. I work night shift downtown. But Marj said she’d watch and call me with updates.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll text you too if I can. Now I had better get some rest. I love you.”

  “I love you too. And good luck.”

  “Luck? I don’t need luck. I’ve got your prayers.”

  Chapter 18

  Jane was in the middle of writing a ticket when her phone rang. She slipped the ticket machine into her belt and answered.

  “Did he do it? Wait. Don’t tell me yet.”

  A full moon was rising between two buildings, and Jane looked up at it and made a silent wish.

  “Okay, I’m ready now . . . Oh, Marj, I knew it. How did he look? Tell me everything.”

  By the time she ended the call, she was so overjoyed you’d have thought it was her smile the moon was reflecting. She sent Caleb a text, congratulating him. When she looked up again, the car she had been ticketing was gone. But she didn’t care. She canceled the ticket and walked on, her feet almost skipping up the sidewalk as she went. She passed by expired meters without even noticing, too busy wishing everyone she came across a good evening, smiling at them with such genuine kindness that none could do anything except smile back.

  A half an hour later, her phone rang again. It was a 206 area code from Seattle, and she assumed it must be one of her island friends calling to congratulate her after watching the show and recognizing Caleb. But as soon as she answered, she knew something was terribly wrong.

  “This is Harborview Medical Center calling. Am I speaking with Jane McKinney?”

  Hearing the words medical center erased the smile from Jane’s face, and she stopped in her tracks and tightened her grip on the phone. Before responding, she looked up at the moon to make another wish, but the moon was gone.

  Marj buckled herself in and started the car. Then she sat with her hands on the wheel and looked at the dash as if she were confused about what to do next.

  “Are you sure you’re okay to drive, Marj?” Jane asked. “I’ve got time yet to catch a cab.”

  “I’m fine,” Marj said. “It’s just been a while.”

  She put Jane’s car in drive, turned the blinker on, looked over her shoulder three or four times, and then finally pulled away from the curb. But by the time they reached the main road, she seemed to be getting the hang of it.

  “So did they say it was a stroke?” she asked.

  “They didn’t know yet,” Jane replied. “They were doing tests. They said it could be something called a TIA.”

  Marj nodded. “A ministroke.”

  “You’re familiar with them?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “I’ve had one myself.”

  “You have? Oh, God, that makes me feel better. Not that I’m glad you’ve had one or anything. But you seem okay. What happened with you?”

  “They gave me blood thinners and I quit smoking.”

  Jane eyed her suspiciously, knowing full well that she still smoked like a chimney.

  Marj caught her look and shrugged. “Okay, I cut back my smoking. I do take the blood thinners, though.”

  “I just hope she’s okay,” Jane said, sighing. “I’m not ready for this. Not now.”

  They drove in silence for a while. It was still dark, and when a passing car flashed them, Marj searched for the lights.

  “Right there on the blinker,” Jane said.

  Marj found them and turned them on. “How long will you be gone?”

  “I’m not sure. But if you could water the plants on our balcony for me, that would be great.”

  “And your work? They approved you leaving?”

  “I don’t know. I left a message for my boss. I guess they’ll have to be okay with it or else I won’t have a job.”

  When they arrived at the airport departure entrance, Jane leaned over and hugged Marj, and they shared a silent look of understanding. Then Jane got out and retrieved her bag from the backseat, shut the door, and stood and waved good-bye, watching the taillights fade into the early morning gray.

  No sooner had the flight taken off than Jane felt sick.

  She ignored the seat belt sign and went to the bathroom and retched into the toilet, then flushed it away. She wasn’t sure if it was flying on no sleep and an empty stomach, or nerves. When she finished, she rinsed her mouth and splashed cool water on her face. The flight was nearly empty, and rather than return to her aisle seat, she took a window in an empty row, leaned against the wall, and tried to sleep. She kept rerunning her last conversation with her mother in her head.

  She remembered driving away from the house and seeing her standing in the doorway obscured by the screen, and she remembered wondering if she’d ever see her again. Now she was wishing she’d stayed in touch. As miserable as she could be, the woman was still her mother.

  Jane found herself wishing that Caleb were with her. He somehow always knew just the right way to comfort her. He would wrap her in his arms and make her feel safe. Last night when she had told him, he had offered to leave the show and come with her to Seattle. And she knew he had meant it. Thinking of him made her feel calmer, and she actually smiled as she finally slipped off to sleep, listening to the soft hum of the jet’s engines just outside her window.

  They were descending into Seattle when she woke. She lifted the window cover and looked out for familiar landmarks. All she saw was a wall of gray. Then they dropped beneath the clouds and into the rain and the wet runway came up slowly to meet them—touchdown, gray pavement rushing by in a blur, slowing, taxiing to the ramp, stopping. Back in Seattle again.

  She hadn’t bothered to check a bag, so she retrieved her carry-on and deplaned, then headed straight for the taxi line outside. It was odd watching through the water-specked windshield as the city of Seattle materialized slowly out of the gray, steadily clearer with each sweep of th
e wipers on the glass. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to drive faster or slower, but it didn’t matter because soon the hospital appeared out her window. The building was grayer than even the sky, except where it was punctuated with yellow-glowing windows. The rain clouds had dropped and the hospital rose up and disappeared into them as if the upper-floor residents already had some hold on heaven. She paid the fare with her credit card and thanked the driver. Then she stepped out into the rain with her bag.

  It was surprisingly quiet inside, and her wet shoes squeaked loudly on the vinyl flooring as she walked to the help desk, then waited for the man there to look up from his computer screen. He directed her to the fifth floor, and two minutes later she was standing in front of a nurses’ station.

  “McKinney?” the nurse repeated. “Here she is. Room sixteen B. Could you sign in here, please? It’s just down the hall there on your left, and there are gowns outside the door.”

  Jane took the pen and filled in her mother’s name and her own, then wrote “daughter” under patient relationship. Some daughter, she thought. She located the room and put on a gown, and when she entered, she found her mother sleeping in the hospital bed. Her gray hair that was usually so perfectly done up was spread out on the pillow, and her skin seemed to hang from her thin face. She looked much older than Jane had thought she would, lying there with wires connected to her fingers and somewhere beneath her gown, so quiet and so still that the rise and fall of her heartbeat on the graph and the soft beeping of the oxygen machine were the only signs that she was in fact alive.

  She was standing beside the bed gazing down on her mother when a nurse came in. He smiled at Jane and washed his hands in the room sink. Then he joined Jane beside the bed.

  “She looks very peaceful now that she’s sleeping.”