“I suppose I could take some time to tell you a few stories of how much of a bastard my dad was, or how I grew up without the gentle touch of a woman, but you’d know that was a lie. I can’t explain why I am the way I am. I’ve been a selfish bastard, a distant father, and a prick with a chip on his shoulder that someone should have knocked off years ago. If I wasn’t so damn good at what I do, someone would have, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He drained his glass and set it down on the table next to him, and then closed what distance there was between us.
“I’m not going to apologize for being who I am, because there’s no point. I’m not going to say I’m sorry I didn’t win any Dad of the Year awards, even though right now, standing here in front of you, I kinda feel like I did. The only thing I will say is that you three girls are mysteries I never felt I could crack, and it was easier to leave you alone than get in your face about anything. I’ve done a lot wrong, and I don’t know if I have it in me to get anything right moving forward, but the one thing I want to be perfectly clear about, is that all you girls are miracles who managed to thrive in th
e long shadow I cast.” His voice was rough now, as if he’d just smoked a pack of cigarettes.
“I told you once not to ever touch an instrument again. Do you remember that?”
I couldn’t answer him because the lump in my throat was too big. Instead, I nodded and tried like hell not to cry.
“I’m glad…” His voice broke, and it was no use. The tears fell down my face. He blew out a long breath and it was a few moments before he could get out his words. “Echo, I’m so damn glad you didn’t listen to me.”
He pulled me into a fierce embrace and released me just as quick, clearing his throat before stepping back.
“I’m heading down to the ballroom. I promised Lyric I’d be there, and she’s damn relentless when she wants something.” His eyes slid from mine as if he was afraid to see my reaction. “I’ll see you down there.”
I wanted so much more from him, more words, more touch, more understanding, more love. But I guess this was what they called baby steps, and for now, it had to be enough. Besides—I glanced at my watch—there wasn’t time for any of that. I had to get ready. I had to face my fears. All of them. As I pulled on the clothes Ali had left for me and used makeup to cover the emotions that had been carved into my skin, I hoped like hell I had the strength to do what I needed to do. Because after all this, these last few months, the last few days with Boyd, I finally knew what it was I wanted.
But wanting and doing were two totally different things. I stepped in front of the mirror. I wore plain black skinny jeans tucked into Doc Martens. The top was a deep blue, very feminine, with billowing sleeves and an open neck, though fitted at the waist. My hair was simple. I’d left it long and loose, and my makeup was on point.
I looked ready to face anything, but I knew it was an illusion carefully cultivated by clothing and products. It was one of the reasons they were billion-dollar industries. Partly because some women were looking for a way to tell a different story from the truth that resided inside them.
I took one last, long breath and reached for the door. It was time for me to live my truth. Time for me to tell my story. I headed for the elevator. I smiled at the same elderly couple who’d come up with me—they were headed down for dinner, celebrating their fiftieth anniversary.
I sailed through the lobby and took the elevator down to the ballroom. The room was full, the meal had already been served, and a young man was on the stage talking about how important art and music and dance were to the local communities.
I stood at the back, there in the shadows as Lyric crossed the stage and grabbed the microphone. She talked with passion about volunteering in some of those underprivileged areas, and how one simple beautiful note can bring a smile to the face of a child who never smiled. She thanked everyone for coming out and then introduced Boyd Appleton.
The crowd erupted, and I watched him walk across the stage. In his left hand, he held an acoustic, the Hummingbird from the Catskills. He was dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, and his hair was damp as if he’d just walked out of the shower. His eyes glittered under the lights, and when a smile curved his generous mouth, I felt weak in the knees.
He cleared his throat, and for several seconds, there was silence as he looked out over the room. I held my breath and waited.
“I came here to support a friend without thinking much on what exactly it was she was supporting. But over the last few days, I’ve realized something that I guess I’ve known all along. Music brings everyone together. It takes hold of a person and bridges the gap between fear and pain and hope and love. It says the things we’re too scared or too weak to say out loud. You can play one note and make the person to your left cry, while the one on the right smiles. You can play a chord and sing words that will spark a revolution.”
Cheers went up in the crowd, and Boyd centered the guitar and adjusted the strap. He looked stage left, and Malcolm appeared, his bass in hand, while in the other was an acoustic. Zach walked onstage to more cheers and whistles, his steel guitar at the ready.
“I’ve had a revolution of my own these last few weeks. Did some growing up. I learned that life is never black and white, and that the most interesting place to play is in the gray. I’ve learned that anyone can grow and change. And more than anything, I learned that the woman I love has depths to her no one knew about until yesterday.”
He looked straight out at the crowd as if he could see me standing along the back wall, and it took everything in me to keep my knees from buckling.
“I’m hoping she’ll join me and the boys up here so we can you show you all something real special.”
Hundreds of eyes looked my way, and for one panicked moment, I wanted to run and hide. But then my dad was there, right beside me, and just behind him were my sisters. Axel gave a nod and then stood back, and suddenly, it became that moment…the one where you either grab hold of something amazing or fall away into the shadows and regret what you lost, what you were too afraid to take.
The world fell away from me, then. I squared my shoulders, took that first step…
And remembered to breathe.
Epilogue
July 4th Green River Music Festival
The Green River Festival had been around since the early fifties. Set in a farmer’s field that runs along a river in the middle of Kentucky, it’s a weeklong celebration of country and blues and rock that always culminates in an epic Fourth of July with a headliner that made the crowd salivate. In years past the likes of Garth Brooks, Johnny Cash, or the Dixie Chicks had taken the honor. Kid Rock had rocked the stage, as had The Eagles and Creedence Clearwater Revival. This year, the headliner had pulled out at the last moment, but the organizers hadn’t said a peep.
They didn’t have to because they had something bigger. Something the general public had been clamoring for since late winter.
Haggerty Smith, the man behind the festival, paced backstage, his good eye on the phone in his right hand, his bad eye on the endless feet of snake lines that fed the electricity to the massive stage. He had a bad hip, so if he fell, chances were he wasn’t getting up again.
He nodded to Ted, the stage manager, who was sweating like a son of a bitch, and raised a questioning eyebrow.