A Plain Love Song (30 page)

“Come on, baby—I mean Adah.” He sang along with a new Blake Shelton song for a few lines, then poked her with one long finger. “Come on, you know you want to.”

She did want to sing. Gott forgive her, she couldn’t help herself. Jackson knew the one way to get her to acquiesce. Every time. Her voice mingled nicely with his. They sang louder and louder until she couldn’t hear the naysayers in her head or the wind rushing by outside the cocoon in which they rode. Even Captain sat up and added a howl now and again.

The song ended. Commercials started. “Change the station; find us another song.” Jackson pounded a fist on the wheel. “We sound great together. We’re ready to rock ’n’ roll.”

“I thought we were country singers.” She flipped the knob. Nothing but commercials or static. “I’m not doing rock.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

She turned the volume down. They still had to have a talk, whether he liked it or not. Some things had to be settled before they reached this cabin on the lake. “I brought my savings. I can pay for my room and board with that until I get a job.”

“You’re not paying rent and you don’t need a job.” The wheedling humor gone from his voice, Jackson swerved to avoid a dead animal in the road. “You’ll be my guest.”

“First of all, I’ll not have you support me. It wouldn’t be right.” He liked to make these sweeping statements as if she would do as she was told. Maybe in her old world, but not in this one and not with an Englisch man. “Secondly, how will you afford it? Surely your parents won’t pay your bills now.”

“Remember I told you about my Gramps?”

“He gave you your first guitar.”

“Yep. He also left me and my sister and brother money for college and I have the money from my 4-H steers. I sold a grand champion my senior year. Good money.” Jackson tapped the wheel in a beat that matched the song on the radio. “I’m still studying music, just not on a college campus. Gramps would understand that.”

“Even if your parents don’t?”

“Sometimes these things skip generations.”

“But we’ll be staying in your parents’ house. That doesn’t seem right.”

“They won’t mind. They’ll be glad I’m all right. They’re like that.”

Jackson might be overestimating his mother’s goodwill. He saw what he wanted to see. Just as he did with her. The thought made Adah scoot still closer to the door. What had she started? It didn’t matter. There was no going back now. She’d chosen her path. God forgive her if it were the wrong one.

Her parents would see this as a terrible sign that Adah had abandoned her faith and her community. She loved them both, more than ever, but she had to do this. She didn’t know why. Why would God give her this desire, this calling, if He didn’t intend for her to use it? “I can’t let you pay my way.”

“Look.” He nodded toward the windshield. She followed his gaze. Trees lined both sides of the highway now. “Busiek State Forest.”

“It’s pretty.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

As if he’d created the forest especially for her. Then they were in it. The thick walls of trees on either side deep, green, and inviting. The truck’s engine strained to carry them up the hill. Then the scenery opened up again and they whooshed down the hill, the drop taking her stomach with it.

“It’s like a roller coaster.” Jackson grinned like a little boy. “Does it tickle your stomach?”

She nodded, knowing she had the same silly grin on her own face. The hills and valleys made her stomach drop the way it did whenever she thought about their destination and her new life.

“Good.” He flipped on the turn signal and steered toward the exit. “We’re almost there.”

He’d managed to highjack the conversation and take it away from the issue of her paying for herself. Something else Jackson did a lot. He pushed away subjects he didn’t want to talk about. Until later. Later didn’t come. This she wouldn’t let go. He wouldn’t pay her way. It wouldn’t be right.

She turned and pulled her bag from the backseat so she could hold it in her lap. As if this had been some sort of invitation, Captain hopped over the seat and sat between her and Jackson, a grin on his face. No one spoke. The air hung heavy in the truck’s cab, filled with something she couldn’t quite identify.

Anticipation. That was it. Unbearable anticipation.

“There it is. See it?” Jackson’s grin stretched from ear to ear, reminding her of that first day she’d met him in the corral. The things Jackson loved, he loved with all his heart, a fierce, abiding happiness filling him. Like a child who hasn’t learned about the disappointment that follows unrealistic expectations. “That’s where we’ll make music. We could’ve gone around the town, but I’m taking you down the main drag before we go out to the lake so you can see what it’s like.”

Neon signs greeted her on all sides, bright and intense against the deepening dusk. They flashed and blinked their messages. P
RESLEY
’
S
C
OUNTRY
J
UBILEE
. T
ONIGHT
. 8
P.M.

One building looked like an enormous ship. A huge, fake gorilla towered over another building. “A gorilla?”

“That’s the Hollywood Wax Museum.”

A wax museum. “And the ship?”

“That’s a museum. Cool, right?”

Surely. The truck barely moved, stuck in a sea of cars that clogged the streets, back to back, spewing exhaust, honking, but mostly not
moving. They lined the street, bumper to bumper, rolling a few feet, then stopping, rolling, then stopping.

“Why is it so crowded?” A horn blared and she jumped. “Where is everyone going?”

“To shows, honey. They come from near and far to hear music. And we’re here to make music for them.”

She needed to break him of calling her those names.
Honey. Baby.
But not now. Now she feasted her gaze on the hordes of people who came to this town to hear music.

Just like her. They loved music.

“Are we going to a show now?”

“You’re so cute when you’re excited!” Jackson chuckled, sounding a lot like her onkel handing her a present on her birthday. “All the time, actually. We probably ought to unpack first and get settled in. Tomorrow’s plenty soon enough to get started.”

“I need to practice.” Adah could already feel the guitar strings under her fingers, biting into the skin of her fingertips. “You really think we can make music here? That people will listen to us sing at these shows?”

“You bet your bottom dollar, girl.”

Plain folks didn’t bet.

They didn’t go to Branson to be songwriters, either.

He turned the truck off the crowded main road and sped up, moving away from the long lines of traffic. She craned her neck, looking back at the flashing neon lights that lit up the sky. So much light. Flashing like a beacon. Calling her.

“Are you sure?”

“Honey, the only things sure in this life are death and taxes.” He chuckled again as they pulled onto another highway. A sign read something about Silver Dollar City. What a name. She’d never seen a silver dollar. “But sure as shootin’, we have a better chance than if we’d stayed at home in New Hope and done nothing.”

She couldn’t argue with that reasoning. She leaned against the door and stared at the bobbing lights of oncoming traffic. It seemed like a dream, a dream from which she couldn’t wake.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into a long tree-lined drive and
slowed. Jackson punched a button and their windows rolled down. Tepid air that smelled of mud, trees, and grass wafted through the truck, replacing the stale odor of food and sweat. To their left stretched a beautiful expanse of water. The sunset bounced off the shimmering water a few hundred yards from the road. A boat bobbed off a nearby dock. The lake. Jackson hadn’t mentioned how beautiful it was. Almost as pretty as Stockton Lake where the New Hope Plain folks sometimes went camping and fishing. “That’s our place over there.” Jackson pointed to their right. “Do you like it?”

He sounded like a little boy, hoping for praise. He eased onto the long paved drive that looped in front of the house. The place he’d described as a lake cabin turned out to be twice the size of the house Adah shared with her entire family. It did have that brown, rustic log cabin look, but it had two stories with a second floor balcony featuring fancy outdoor furniture and an overhang with a ceiling fan. “Yes, I like it.” She managed to shut her mouth after a second or two. “It’s very pretty.”

“Uh-oh.” The truck jolted to a stop in the middle of the paved driveway. Jackson shoved the gear in park and leaned back in the seat. He didn’t look so happy now. “That’s my pop’s truck.”

A green truck much like the one Jackson drove sat in the driveway, parked crooked and blocking the way out.

The screen door swung open and Mr. Hart strode out to meet them, letting it slam hard behind him.

From the look on his face under his black cowboy hat, he wasn’t the welcoming committee.

Chapter 27

A
dah sat still, her hand slick with sweat on the truck door handle. She waited for Jackson to move first. He stared out the dirty, bug-splattered windshield, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Mr. Hart stood, boot-clad feet wide apart, hands on his hips, glaring right back from under the brim of his big cowboy hat. It was a stand-off between the Hart men. Adah felt like a rabbit caught between two coyotes in an open meadow. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

This was silly. “He’s your father. Aren’t you going to greet him?” She wiped her hand on her apron and pulled the door open. “We can’t sit here all night.”

“You’re right. Guess I better see what he wants. It’s not like he bites and I’m too big for him to haul me off to the woodshed.”

Jackson jerked the key from the ignition and let the chain jingle from his fingers for a minute. Finally, he shoved open his door and got out. Captain hopped out after him and raced toward Mr. Hart. The older man squatted and patted the dog’s head. He couldn’t be all that bad, could he? Captain liked him.

Jackson looked back at Adah through the open window. “You’re pretty small, though, he might could put you over his knee.” He grinned, that same old cocky grin. Nothing could keep this man down.
“He’s a pro with a switch. He practiced on me and RaeAnne plenty. Jeff, not so much. He’s too much of a brown-noser.”

Adah wasn’t a child and she wasn’t Mr. Hart’s daughter to be punishing.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Jackson would be enough to provoke any person, Adah was sure of that. She slid from the seat but stayed close to the truck, letting Jackson go forward first. Mr. Hart would want to talk with his son. To him, she would be baggage, nothing more. As if feeling her uncertainty, Captain raced back, circled once, and flopped at her feet, panting, waiting.

“Pop, what’s up?” Jackson tilted his hat back at a smart angle, his voice jovial. “What are you doing here? Mom didn’t say anything about you taking a fishing trip this weekend.”

“Don’t give me that innocent act.” Mr. Hart’s tone had an acid quality that burned Adah’s ears. “Did you think we wouldn’t figure it out in two seconds? You tell your sister you’re leaving town and you think we don’t know where you’re going? I hopped in the truck and did eighty all the way. I’ve already had a glass of ice tea and a visit with your Aunt Charlene.”

A woman, Aunt Charlene, Adah presumed, appeared at the screen door as if she’d heard her name. She had the same fair skin and dark hair as Mr. Hart and Jackson. She wore a long, flowing skirt of ruffles and a flowered, sleeveless blouse. If it weren’t for the ribbons of gray in her hair, caught back in a braid that reached her waist, Adah would’ve thought her a teenager.

“Hey, Aunt Charlene.” Jackson tipped his hat at her. “What’s shaking?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.” She had a bit of a drawl as if she might have lived down South a while. “Besides your profound desire to irritate your daddy.”

The attention shifted back to Mr. Hart, whose face darkened at their light banter.

“He has no call to complain about my driving, if what he just said was true. Who’s the immature one?” Jackson leaned against the hood
of the truck, his slouch saying
no worries
. “Why run down here? I won’t mess up your place. I just need a base of operation.”

“Why? You’re dropping out of school to chase some crazy pipe dream.” Mr. Hart threw up both his hands in the air as if surrendering. “You’re throwing your life away.”

“Whoa, that’s kind of dramatic isn’t it?” For some reason, Jackson’s voice slowed to a drawl. Or maybe it seemed that way because Mr. Hart spoke so fast and furious. “If it doesn’t work out, it’s not the end of the world. I can always go back to school.”

“You’re wasting your time.” Mr. Hart’s gaze bounced to Adah and back to Jackson. “In more ways than one, if RaeAnne’s telling the truth.”

“RaeAnne needs to mind her own business. I only told her so she’d stop pestering me about Dani Jo.”

“RaeAnne’s worried about you. She has the good sense to know you belong in college, not running around trying to be some kind of music star.”

“She does not. And she’s not worried about me. She’s jealous. She just can’t stand it that I might get a life of my own.” Jackson glanced at Adah as if to say
come on out
. Adah stayed where she was, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She would fight her own battles with her own parents. This one belonged to Jackson. He scowled at her, then at his dad. “I’m twenty-one. I’m old enough to know what I want to do with my life. And who I want to spend it with.”