Six Miles From Nashville (17 page)

“Good thing Daddy gave me some money for expenses I might have.”

She packed all of her things in a suitcase and a small duffel bag. She hadn’t acquired many worldly goods since living at Sweeties. There was no need to decorate. The place had more than enough decoration. Bill honked the horn and she gave the place one last fleeting look. Even though she worked through a lot of grief in the little apartment, she had experienced unwavering love and friendship there.

She jumped into the passenger side of the car as Bill placed her bags in the trunk. It was a perfect day. The new year held many opportunities and challenges for both of them.

Chapter
19

Betty enjoyed the energy of the city of Nashville. From her apartment she could hear music coming from music row if she opened her windows at night. The place was above a pawn shop. Down on their luck musicians hocked their prized musical instruments there to pay their way until they hit the big break they were all hoping for.

She browsed in
the pawn shop often and thought of the broken dreams represented by the things left behind and never retrieved by their owner. It brought with it a certain sadness.

She hurried to her apartment and wrote furiously.

The Songwriter

The dreams of a man lay dead behind the glass.

Hopes that were not realized haunt all those who pass.

His life stands waiting as his work goes unknown.

Such is the life of the poet of song.

She sat back and hummed a bit of a melody she thought might be the mood of it. Taking the paper, she went out the door in search of Bill.

After a long night of writing music and finishing out more verses, Bill decla
red the song ready for the studio musicians to work on the next day. “We will meet them early and get this thing pounded out. I can see it on the first record.”

“That’s good.”

“Girl, you come up with some of the best stuff. I’m glad to have you on my team.”

“Well, it’s time to hit the hay. I will see you bright and early.”

“Let me walk you to your place.”

“Okay.”

They walked in silence for most of the distance to her apartment. He said, “You know, you have an ‘old soul’.”

“Does that mean I act like an old lady?” she asked with a lilt in her voice.

He struggled to find the right words, “Your insight is as if you have lived a hundred years. There is meat in your conversations. Do you get what I mean?”

“I don’t want to be weird.”

“Not weird. It’s a gift.”

They walked up the stairs to her door. He patted her on the shoulder and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Goodnight, sweet girl.”

“Goodnight.”

She closed the door softly and watched him as he walked to his place.
I am awful! I wanted him to kiss me on the lips!

She knelt down beside her bed and prayed, “Lord, what is going on with me? Keep me from falling in love with Bill.”

As she continued her prayer she realized that it was too late. She was afraid that she already loved him. “God, help me to never let him know.”

Every day Betty rushed to the post office in search of one more letter from Johnny. She squealed loudly when she saw his handwriting on an envelope addressed to her.
Maybe if I have word from Johnny, I can get this crazy crush for Bill out of my head.
She hurried home and tore the envelope almost in half in her haste.

Dear Betty,

How are
you? I am fine. I find such contentment doing farm work for Dad. He is better and all, but we have found that we get so much more done when we make out a plan together. Devon and Zach are in school so they can only help a little after they get home in the afternoon. They have a lot of  homework most nights.

The boys and I laid on the trampoline and looked at the sky full of stars. There is nothing like living on the edge of n
owhere so that city lights don’t dim the heavenly bodies.

I have decided to hang my hat here for the long haul. Bible college and the idea of being an evangelist are long gone from me now. The land calls to me and I welcome it.

Does any of that make sense to you? I know you know what I mean because you were raised around here, too. I have everything I ever want here.

If you decide to give up on your wild dreams, I will be here waiting for you to be my wife. I would have come to talk all of this over with you face to face, but there
is a lot of work to do here and, besides, I never was one to care much for travel.

I understand if you don’t want to fold up your tent and move back here. You do have a God given talent with your song writing. I think it could be better used in the gospel circles, but I would think that would take you away from the farm as well.

Do you think you are ready to be a farm wife? We would be living with the folks. I don’t make a salary yet. There is plenty of room. Think about it. If I don’t hear back from you, I’ll know you have not chosen life with me.

Love,

Johnny

She folded the letter and stood up, next to the screen door. Cars buzzed down the busy roads but she paid them no mind.
If I marry Johnny, my life will be simple and peaceful. I would live close to my parents. I do love the prairie and watching the sun burst forth for each new day. The sky calls to me. It is the place I know, the people I understand, a way of life that holds onto each new day until the sun slips behind the far pastures. What am I going to do?

She
enjoyed writing songs. It was salve to her soul to put her thoughts to music. Bill had a piano delivered to her apartment so that she could tinker with the tune of her new creations on her own. The first big venue was set up. Bill was to open for Sonny, a well established act at Fan Fair. He insisted that she sing most of the songs with him as a duet. Everyone wanted to hear Bill and Betty. Their songs had a new sound with the old vibe.

They had been working on their first record. It would be ready
in time for their first show. Sonny was sure that his fans would embrace them. Betty was not one to seek the limelight. The thought of standing on the massive stage was frightening. The only way she could do it was standing next to Bill.
Am I ready to give all of this up?

They needed three new songs to sing at the event. If the fans enjoyed them, they would be recorded next. Their agent had taken some demos to local radio stations to get some air play. With their songs getting some radio time, their sales would grow steadily.
Everything seemed to depend on how they did at Fan Fair.

She sat at the piano and played a few
familiar old hymns. While playing, she prayed and asked for guidance. “Lord, I know life with Johnny would be good. Somehow, I feel that there is more.” Words to the Lord tumbled out of her and she felt refreshed.

Soon phrases for the new songs danced through her mind.

What would I do if I didn’t have yo
u?

What would I do if I didn’t have you

running through my mind and slipping through my day?

All I need is you.

All I need is you.

All I want is you.

The words flowed easily from her pen. It was what her mama would call a ditty. It was sweet and short with no heartache connected.
We all need a song like that stuck in our head.

For the next few hours she worked on perfecting the timing and tune of her creation. The work made her feel happy.

Bill dropped by after talking with the agent. “Three radio stations in major markets agreed to play our songs. That means we will have really good exposure. It all depends on if the listeners respond positively to our work.”

“That’s great news.”

“Looks like you have been working on something today.”

She suddenly felt shy. “It’s kind of  silly song. It might have been a waste of time.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Let me hear it.”

She sat at the piano and started the jaunty tune with clever trills and runs. Her voice sounded light and free. It was a happy little song.

He nodded his head and laughed while she sang. “That is one cool little song. I like it.”

“It is fun to sing.”

He looked at the music score and made notes on it. “I think you should start this part and I will join in on the bridge here.”

“But, I don’t sing solo.”

“I think it would be neat if you would do this. It gives our duet another angle, changes the sound for those who prefer a lead female voice.”

“I don’t know. Are you sure?”

“I’d bet the farm on it.”

She laughed and pushed him on the shoulder
, saying, “You don’t have a farm.”

“You would be correct, little gal. I do think it would be a good way to introduce
our range in songs to mix it up a little.”

“You’re the boss.”

He touched her on the tip of the nose. “Don’t forget it.”

He gave her a note for
the beginning of another song. “See what you can do with this.”

She picked it up and began reading the words. “This seems that it would lend itself to a folk-type or bluegrass sound. I can almost hear fiddles,
mandolins and the sound of Flatt and Scruggs. It is a little dark and sad.”

“I can imagine your voice taking off on the second verse,” he said.

“I see a pattern emerging here.”

“Do you, now?” he asked. “I gotta go and get busy on finding some more musicians.”

“Bill, I was wondering if we might go down to the pawn shop and talk to the owner. There is a really expensive guitar that hasn’t been redeemed. I think there is probably a musician connected with it that could be down on his luck and pretty skilled.”

“He might be a drug
addict.”

“He might not,” she said firmly.

“So we go to the shop owner and get the name of the person who hocked his nice guitar. How do you know he will give you the man’s name?”

“He might not, but we can try,” she said.

They
copied off the name of the man and asked the pawn shop owner if he had any idea where he might be staying.

“Right there is an address. You could try there.”

“Thanks,” Bill said as they left to find the man.

They found the address in a run down part of the city. Bill put Betty behind him as he knocked on the door. A
n emaciated woman opened the door just a crack. “What do you want?”

“My name is Bill Wall. This here is Betty Barnes. We are hiring musicians right now. Is Carol Rain here?”

“I’m Carol.”

Betty edged forward. “Are you the owner of that beautiful guitar at the Westside pawn shop?”

“That would be me.”