Music of the Heart Page 9

  We sat in silence for a few seconds. When I snapped my fingers, Abby jumped. “What if I made death a person—like a dude I was fighting with for my mom?”

  “But make her a girl—the only woman in the world you’ve ever loved.”

  “Exactly.”

  She bobbed her head enthusiastically. “You will totally make the audience believe that. Look at I Will Always Love You for example.”

  My brow creased in confusion. “Whitney Houston?”

  “No, Dolly Parton wrote it, but Whitney made it huge.”

  I grinned. “Angel, you seem to have a bit of a Dolly Parton fetish that’s quite disturbing.”

  Abby laughed. “Actually, it’s my mom with the Dolly fetish. She’s originally from Sevierville, Tennessee, where Dolly’s from. So I grew up with all her albums, and my mom read her book back in the day. In it, Dolly explains that while the song sounds like letting go of a love relationship, it’s actually about her severing ties with her business and singing partner, Porter Wagoner.”

  “What a little fount of knowledge you are,” I teased.

  “Trust me, when you grow up in places with sporadic electricity or none at all, you learn to amuse yourself. For my brothers and me, it was learning to play instruments and song writing. For my mom, it was books.”

  Sweeping the pencil from behind my ear, I momentarily nibbled on the eraser. “Hmm, so even if death is the fucker stealing my girl, I still think most of the lyrics I’ve got will work. They just need some tweaking. And I definitely think the melody will work.” I adjusted the guitar on my lap. “What do you think of this?” I asked before strumming a few chords.

  Closing her eyes, Abby let the music wash over her. “Wow, that’s good. It has a real haunting quality to it.”

  “You think?”

  When she opened her eyes, I peered intently at her. Normally, I didn’t want or need any convincing about my creations except from the suits at the label. But this time, I desperately wanted reassurance from Abby. “Yes, I do. Even setting aside what I know about the song’s meaning, I want to cry just hearing the music, and you haven’t even added the lyrics yet.”

  “Thank you. Give me a few minutes, okay?”

  “Sure.” While she went to pour the glass of orange juice I had suggested, I reworked the lyrics. When I was satisfied I had the emotions right where I wanted them, I put my pencil down. I don’t know how long I had been focusing on the song. It must have been a while because Abby’s glass of juice was empty. She sat patiently in front of me.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded.

  Focusing on Abby, I sang the lyrics with everything I had in me. Tears sparkled in her blue eyes before running down her cheeks. “Oh Jake,” she murmured.

  “You think that’s it?”

  Her hand clutched the place above her heart. “It’s breathtaking.” We sat there staring at each other for a minute before Abby finally wiped her moist eyes. Then a tiny shudder went through her, and she gasped.

  “Are you okay?”

  Without answering me, Abby rose out of her chair. “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “To get my guitar. It’s probably nothing, but I just had an idea.”

  I grabbed her arm. “No, no, I’ll get it.”

  “But—”

  I held up my hand to silence her. “Angel, Rhys is notorious for sleeping in the buff, and I don’t think your virgin eyes are quite ready for that.”

  Crimson splotches dotted her cheeks, and she didn’t argue with me. I then hurried down the bus aisle. On his stomach, Rhys snored like a bear while his bare ass stuck out from the covers. Just as I suspected, he would have given her quite an eye-full.

  Before Abby got out her guitar, she tore a sheet of paper from my notepad. I couldn’t help asking, “Are you thinking you can do it better?”

  She shook her head furiously. “No, no, I was thinking of a way to enhance it.” At what I could only imagine was my intensely skeptical expression, she added, “It needs both sides of the story—his and hers.”

  “A duet?”

  “Yes. Now be quiet for a minute.”

  I chuckled as Abby began scribbling down words. “Angel, have you ever even written a song before?”

  “Nuh-uh,” she muttered lost in concentration. After a few minutes, she finally glanced up at me and gave a sheepish grin. “I’ve watched the boys do it forever, but I never tried. But for some reason, today it’s like… it’s just coming to me.”

  “Like you couldn’t stop it if you tried?”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes, just like that.”

  I smiled. “I think the muse has found its way to you.”

  “Hmm, I dunno,” she murmured.

  Motioning towards the paper, I urged, “Come on, let’s hear it.”

  Her brow creased as she nibbled her lip. “You won’t laugh, right?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Promise.”

  I crossed my finger over my chest. “Scout’s Honor.”

  “Okay.” Bending over, she took her guitar out of the case and adjusted it on her lap. She then mirrored the melody I had written earlier with almost absolute perfection.

  Baby, it breaks my heart to have to leave you here—shattered and alone.

  With no one to pick up the pieces or ease the ache that you own.

  There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you or for your love

  Each and every moment I had with you was an amazing gift from above.

  I’ll wrap the memories around me like a blanket as this winter crushes my soul.

  And although I can’t stay, I’ll keep you with me each and every day.

  When she finished singing, she kept strumming the melody. I could tell she was having a hard time making herself look at me. Finally, she dared a little peek.

  “That is fucking amazing!”

  “Seriously?”

  “Hell yeah. We have to record this together.”

  Her fingers slipped on the chords, making a screeching noise on the guitar. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No, I’m completely and totally serious. This has chart topper written all over it.”

  With her blue eyes widening in fear, Abby shook her head furiously back and forth. “But I’ve never been in a recording booth. This is an important song, so you need someone with more experience who can do it justice.”

  I leaned forward to take her hand in mine. “I wouldn’t have even written the damn thing if it hadn’t been for you. As for a better singer, I can’t imagine finding one.” Giving her a reassuring smile, I added, “Besides, I don’t want to do the song unless I can do it with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, so quit arguing with me about it.”

  She grinned. “Okay, but only if you insist.”

  “Why don’t we try meshing both parts together now?”

  “That sounds good.”

  As Abby and I ran through the song a few times, the other guys started coming to life. Brayden waved at us before hopping in the shower while Rhys appeared clothed and with his blonde hair perfectly styled.

  Without a word to us, he eased down at the table and listened intently. Closing his eyes a few times, I could tell he was imagining how to play his part. “That’s kickass, bro,” he said when we finished.

  I glanced up from my guitar to wink at Abby. She rewarded me with a beaming smile that caused the cutest dimple in her cheek to appear. “You think so?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah. Chicks are going to cream the hell out of themselves at the whole angsty thing you got going on about fighting for the woman you love.”

  “I thought so too. Think the other guys will dig it?”

  Rhys bobbed his head. “Bray’s gonna want it as acoustic as possible to bring out all the emotions. You know what a sap he is.”

  I laughed. “I agree—about both the acoustic and Brayden being a pussy.”

  Before Abby could give me shit about the word she hated most, AJ
staggered out of his roost and down the aisle towards us. “What are you douchebags doing up so early?” he asked. His hand, like on autopilot, went to his crotch to do an obligatory ball scratch and then his eyes widened when he realized Abby was at the table too. “My bad,” he muttered under his breath.

  Although she ducked her head, I caught the grin that fluttered on her lips at AJ’s actions.

  “It’s almost nine. We’re stopping for breakfast in a few minutes,” I replied.

  AJ groaned and rubbed his face. “Nine? Jesus, it might as well be the asscrack of dawn.”

  Abby laughed. “Let me guess. Not a morning person?”

  “Hell no.” His gaze then fell on the notepad and our guitars. “Whoa, hold the phone. Don’t tell me you guys were songwriting?”

  “Yeah, we just wrote a duet. Isn’t that amazing?” Abby gushed.

  AJ’s dark brows shot into his hairline before his eyes locked on mine. Even though I felt like an absolute pussy, I squirmed under the intensity of his stare. Mainly because I knew my secret was about to be out of the bag, and it was going to change things even more with Abby.

  With a smirk, AJ crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Oh yeah, it’s more than just amazing. It’s fucking incredible considering this dude never, ever lets anyone in on his writing sessions. I mean, even he and Bray don’t collaborate together—each of them just writes his own part and then they merge it together.”

  Abby stared at me in utter disbelief. “But I…I didn’t know. You should’ve told me you wanted privacy or that—”

  “No, it’s fine,” I muttered, glancing out the picture window as we pulled off the interstate.

  “You say that now, but just wait until Bray hears about this,” AJ said. He thumped me on the back. “Of course, I can’t say I blame you. Who wouldn’t want to make music with Angel?”

  AJ’s words had the same effect as pulling a dark, heavy cloak across my raw and open emotions. Whatever openness and honesty Abby had coaxed out of me automatically shut down. My mother’s advice echoed in my ear about giving Abby a chance and how fate could’ve brought us together. Her words coupled with what had happened last night and this morning made my throat close up, and I fought to breathe. Without another word, I whirled out of my seat and stomped down the aisle to the bedroom. I flung open the door to find Brayden getting dressed. “Where’s the fire, man?” he asked.

  “Nowhere. We just need to hurry the fuck up and eat so we can get back on the road.”

  Bray gave me a funny look before leaving me in the bedroom. Once I slid on my jeans and threw on a clean shirt, I didn’t go back out into the living room until I was sure we were about to be parked.

  When the bus finally shuddered to a stop, I couldn’t get off of it fast enough. I didn’t say anything to Abby or the guys. I couldn’t take being with Abby one more minute. Her very presence had sent tiny fissures through my carefully constructed wall of emotions. She was getting to me too fast and too soon. No woman but my mother had ever seen through to the real me, and I wasn’t about to let Abby in.

  So I hauled ass down the bus steps and started powerwalking across the parking lot.

  “Jake?” Brayden called.

  “He must have to piss or something,” Rhys replied.

  Ignoring them, I threw open the diner door and craned my neck for the bathroom. Once inside, I splashed water on my face and tried to get my bearings. An image flashed before my eyes—one that had an almost identical purity as Abby’s. Her name was Stephanie, and she had been my first and only love. I’d been eighteen when I first met her—she apprenticed under my mother at the dance studio. We dated for two years before I made the decision to drop out of college and go on the road with the guys. When I couldn’t give her the commitment she needed, she didn’t just break up with me—she tore my heart to shreds.

  Of course, the songs I wrote from that hellish experience propelled Runaway Train to stardom. I hadn’t opened myself up to another girl since then, and I sure as hell couldn’t now with everything in my world spinning out of control. I couldn’t let the feelings I was experiencing for Abby take hold.

  After collecting myself as best I could, I left the bathroom and headed for the breakfast buffet. Filling my plate to the brim, I then turned and went in search of somewhere to sit. At the sight of Abby seated with the other guys, I quickly side-stepped their table to plop down with Frank and some of the roadies. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Abby’s quizzical expression turn almost wounded.

  Her reaction caused me to spear my French toast with a little more determination than I should have. Yeah, I was a bastard for ignoring her after everything we had been through the night before and this morning. But I couldn’t keep opening up to her and feeling what I did. It had fucking train wreck written all over it.

  “You okay today?” Frank asked.

  “Fine,” I muttered through my bacon.

  “Jake…”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

  “Okay, son.” After taking a thoughtful sip of his coffee, he drew in a ragged breath. “Just so you know, your mom called me this morning.”

  I choked on my orange juice. After succumbing to a coughing fit, I questioned, “She did?”

  Frank nodded. “She knows that Sally called you, and she wanted me to make sure I kept an eye out for you. She’s afraid you’ll be…destructive.”

  The agonizing thought of my mom dying once again sliced through to my soul, and I fought to breathe. Nausea crashed over me, and I feared I was about to heave up my breakfast. I knew I had to talk to her again. So I tumbled out of my chair and sprinted out of the diner. When she answered the phone, I demanded, “Why?”

  Mama sighed. “I thought it was for the best.”

  “You thought not telling your only child that you’re dying is for the best? Do you know how sick and warped that is?”

  “I didn’t want to upset you with just a few weeks left on your tour.”

  A frustrated growl came from low in my throat. “For once, would you stop putting me and everyone else first? This is the time to be fucking selfish. I mean, you’re…” Closing my eyes, I still couldn’t bring myself to say the words again.

  “Honey, there will be plenty of time for us to say our goodbyes when you get off the road.”

  “Fuck that. I’m coming home now.”

  “No, Jacob, you’re not.”

  “Look, the guys are all in agreement. Hell, Rhys is even ready to use what little law school he had to go toe to toe with the execs if they give us any shit about it.”

  “I’m still your mother, and I say no.”

  A tormented sob choked off in my throat. I gripped the phone tight against my ear as I tried to hold my emotions and sanity in check. “But we don’t have that much time left together. How can you be so fucking cruel and deny me one moment with you?”

  “Jacob, your language is absolutely atrocious!” she chided.

  “Stop it! I don’t wanna hear about the wrong I’m doing, okay?”

  “Look, these are hard times on everyone, sweetheart. There are a lot of people who work for you and they depend on you and so do their families.” When I started to protest, she sighed. “I’m a mess right now, honey—both emotionally and physically. I don’t want you seeing me like this. Before I knew for sure if it was terminal, I started treatment again just in case. It’s wrecked me. So give me a few weeks, okay?” At her sniffling, I broke down myself. “Sweetheart, I want more than anything to have a month or two just to be your mother and take care of you before you have to take care of me.”

  Tears streamed down my cheeks when I thought about everything she was going through just to have time to be a mom to me. “Why do you have to be like this?”

  She chuckled. “Jacob, it’s that stubbornness that we both share, remember?”

  “I love you…God, do I love you,” I blubbered.

  “I know, baby. As high as the sky, remember?”

  I was cryin
g so hard I couldn’t respond. Even though she couldn’t see me, I bobbed my head in acknowledgement of the phrase she had taught me as a child.

  You know how much I love you, Jacob?

  As high as the sky, Mama!

  That’s right, sweet boy.

  “Jacob,” my mother began in the soft, soothing voice she’d used since I was a child. “I know it’s hard, but try to put all this behind you. Focus on your music. Find escape in it, and for the next three weeks, give your audiences the best shows you possibly can. And each night you do, rest assured that you’re making me proud for your strength and courage.”

  With the backs of my hands, I tried wiping off the tear-stained, snot-filled mess my face had become. “Okay, I’ll try.”

  “That’s my boy. I’ll call you each and every day.”

  “You better.”

  “I will. I love you, honey.”

  “I love you too.”

  And with that she was gone. Doubling over, I rested my palms on my knees. My body heaved and shook as I tried to get myself together.

  “Jake?”

  Pinching my eyes shut, I willed her to go away. I couldn’t deal with her period, especially not like this. “Not now,” I muttered.

  She snaked her arms around my waist. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Bree crooned into my ear.

  “Shit that you wouldn’t possibly understand. Besides, I just told you I don’t wanna fucking talk about it, okay?”

  Slinking around me, Bree tucked her finger under my chin and forced me to look at her. “Oh Jake, you look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” I grunted.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday. Trust me, if you’re going to get like this when I go away, I’ll just quit my job,” she teased.

  “You barely work as it is. It’s a wonder you don’t get fired as much as you call in.”

  She laughed. “That’s the perk of working for your granddaddy’s towing service. It’s hard to fire family.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Besides, he likes being able to tell everyone that I’m cutting off work to go hang-out with Jake Slater of Runaway Train.”

  I fought the urge to say that her grandfather was pretty sketchy to enjoy the fact she was a glorified groupie, joining up with me at different tour stops.