Cool Shade (17 page)

Wonder

Eddie ran.

Stumbling, not consciously aware of moving, only knowing he needed to get to Maddie.

Let her be okay,
he prayed. Even if she never spoke to him again,
let her be okay.

He jerked open the car door to find her bent over, forehead against the steering wheel.

“Maddie, are you all right? God, Maddie—"

She lifted her head.

Slowly, very, very slowly, she turned her face to his. Beneath the feeble glow of the dome light, he saw that she'd been crying. She
was
crying. Tears trailed down her cheeks; her nose was red, her lips swollen. But she didn't look hurt. Not physically.

"I can't believe—" She pulled in a shuddering breath. "I can't believe there's no Jonathan." She rested her forehead back against the steering wheel.

It was as if she'd just found out someone she cared for very deeply had died.

Jeez, Maddie.
How had things gotten so screwed up?

He’d hoped she'd be glad to see him, see Eddie. And then, when she’d started talking about Jonathan, Eddie had actually started to hate the guy. Then he’d remembered
he
was Jonathan.

He'd never meant to hurt her.

He reached in and turned the ignition key, killing the engine. Her car wouldn't be going anywhere. He wouldn't be surprised if it was totaled. "You're going to need a tow truck."

Then he crouched down beside her, in the open door. "Maddie, I'm Jonathan."

She shook her head, or rather kind of rolled it back and forth against the steering wheel. "No, you aren't. He was someone you were pretending to be. It was an act."

"Those things we talked about, that was me. They came from my heart. It was no act."

"Why did you make up a name?"

"When you first asked me who I was, I panicked. I didn't know what to say. It just came out. I guess I've been hiding my whole life. And then, later, it was too late to tell the truth. And when I was talking to you, I
was
Jonathan. For years, I'd tried not to think, tried to shut myself off. Suddenly it was like a part of me I'd denied was back."

She straightened to stare through the windshield, at the tree trunk in front of her. "You laughed. You laughed when I said I loved him. What kind of guy does that?"

"I laughed because I couldn't believe my luck. I wasn't laughing
at
you. Maddie. Sweet, sweet Maddie. I'd never laugh at you. You said you loved Jonathan. I took that to mean that you loved me.”

He watched her face, could see that she was thinking, trying to sort it all out.

He didn't want to lose her. Not now. Not after the distance he'd come to find her. "Maybe I can never be the person you want me to be, but don't shut me out. Give this a chance."

Dawn was coming on, casting the world in a soft glow.

Love.

So, this is what love felt like, he thought.

Like a sunrise.

"You wanted me to love you?" she asked quietly, her eyes luminous, tears clinging to her eyelashes.

It was a big risk, letting her see so much of him, but he had to tell her the truth. He owed her the truth. "Yes. Hell yes." His voice reverberated with the fervency of his confession.

"What about the woman you said you were in love with, the one who left?"

"It was you. Enid told me you'd gone back to Arizona."

She slowly shook her head, still in denial. "No."

"What do you want me to do to prove myself? Get a tattoo with your name on it?"

She gave it some thought. "Maybe." She'd always taken a perverse pleasure in making him squirm. He loved that about her.

Then, still not totally convinced, she said, "I saw some glamorous woman walking your dog."

"Max's wife. She took care of Murphy when I was in rehab."

"Yeah?"

"I've loved you for a while now, Maddie. Tonight, when I found out you and Mary were the same person, well, it blew my mind. Don't you see how perfect it is? How damn perfect?"

She swallowed.

He waited, unable to breathe.

And then she nodded.

"Come on." He touched her lightly on the arm, afraid of her response. "Let's go back up the tower and watch the sunrise. That's why I wanted you to come here. I wanted us to share something spectacular."

"We've already shared quite a few spectacular moments."

He laughed, his heart full of hope. "Yeah, but this will be spectacular of a different kind."

~0~

With Eddie's arms around her, Maddie's back to his chest, they watched the sun come up over the town of Chester.

She turned her head so she could look up at him. He took her breath away. Sometimes she forgot how beautiful he was. Those eyes. Those deep, dark, soulful eyes.

He loves me.

"I didn't know Nebraska could be so beautiful," she said.

He pressed his lips to hers. "It looks better to me today than it ever has in my whole life."

She reluctantly turned back to the sunrise, feeling deliciously content.

"Maddie?"

"Mmm?" This was her bedtime. She was getting sleepy.

"I'm sorry. About that first time we made love. If I'd known you were a virgin…"

"It's okay."

"I would have been gentler. I would have-"

She turned in his arms, putting a hand against the beard stubble of his jaw. “It's okay."

He kissed her, sweetly, softly, possibly the way he would have kissed her if it had been her first kiss. "And I'm sorry—" His voice cracked. He swallowed, placing his hand over her abdomen. "About the baby."

She blinked. "Me, too."

He wrapped both arms around her.

"I would have made a good mom."

"The best."

They were both quiet as they stood holding each other, just holding each other.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked, leaning back to look up at him. "On the radio?"

"Only one person I know would have a cat named Hemingway."

She smiled and rested her head against his chest, her ear above his beating heart. It was going to take her a while to get used to the idea that Eddie was more than Eddie. "Were you really in a nuthouse?"

"Rehab Center. I still have panic attacks, but I learned to control them instead of allowing them to control me." She felt a soft pressure on her head, his lips brushing her hair.

"Fear can be crippling."

He rocked her. "I wasn't sure I wanted to get better," he said softly, "But I was really just afraid to get better."

She yawned.

What incredibly bad timing. She put a hand to her mouth. "Sorry." Here he was, finally spilling his guts, and she was yawning in his face. But he didn't seem to mind.

"Let's get you to bed." He smiled at her in the dreamiest way. "You're almost asleep on your feet."

"Whose bed?"

"I was thinking mine. But if that's not okay—"

"It's better than okay."

Together, they walked down the stairs. At the foot of the tower, Eddie pulled out his dirt bike from behind a stand of trees, started it, hopped on, then extended a hand to Maddie.

"Put your foot right here so you don't burn yourself on the tailpipe."

She climbed behind him on the bike, wrapping her arms around his waist, her face pressed against his back.

He patted her hands. "Don't fall asleep," he shouted over his shoulder. "You won't, will you?"

She shook her head and smiled sleepily.

When she went without sleep for too long, her mind got weird, and she had thoughts that were sometimes profound, sometimes idiotic.

As they roared down the highway, into the rising sun, she thought about how strange, how copacetic, it was that his was the body sheltering hers from the blinding sun, the cutting wind, from the world.

Now I Know

Jason pedaled his bike up the lane to Eddie's house. The batteries in his tape player had run down, so he was singing to himself. Adel always told him he had eyes like a hawk. That musta meant he could see good, because right now he spotted Eddie sitting on the porch. Murphy was there, too. And there was Maddie's new car. Not new. Really it was old, a lot like her other car, but she'd just gotten it.

Jason liked Eddie.

He liked Murphy.

And Maddie was nice to him.

Not long ago, Eddie had painted his house white. Yellow would have been better, but white was okay.

Jason slowed until his bike began to wobble; he put one foot out to catch himself, then swung his leg over and lowered the kickstand with the toe of his tennis shoe.

"Hi, Eddie."

He lifted his head.

Eddie was looking at him in a really weird way.

"Eddie?"

Eddie blinked. His eyes cleared, but he still looked confused. Worried. "Where'd you hear that song?" Eddie asked.

Jason couldn't remember what he'd been singing. "What song?"

Eddie hummed a few notes.

Wow. When Eddie hummed it sounded good. Almost like a piano or something. The song was familiar. "I can't remember."

Eddie still had that weird look on his face, and Jason was getting scared.

Eddie's voice sounded funny, too. "Was it on the radio?" Kind of tight, like it hurt to talk.

Maddie showed up at the kitchen door, like the weirdness in Eddie's voice had gotten her attention.

She was at Eddie's all the time. She was living there. Her and her cat, Hemingway. Jason liked Hemingway, but Hemingway didn't like Jason. Hemingway didn't like anybody but Maddie.

One day Jason had asked them if Maddie and Eddie were married, and they both acted funny. Later, when they were by themselves, Eddie had explained to Jason that he couldn't marry Maddie until he got his shit together. Jason wasn't sure what that meant. He didn't ask. He didn't want to know.

Maddie stepped outside, the screen door slamming. "Hi, Jason."

It was weird to see her wearing a sweater, but that was because fall was coming. It was getting cold.

"Try to remember where you heard the song," Eddie said quietly in a way that told Jason this was serious business.

Jason thought hard. Sometimes if he thought about something long enough, he remembered.

He snapped his fingers. "A tape." Then he remembered the rest.
Uh-oh
.

"A tape? Where'd you get it?" Eddie got to his feet. "I'm not mad at you," he said. "I just need to know."

"I found it." Jason shifted from foot to foot. He started picking at the skin on his palm.

"Where?"

Jason pointed to the ground not far from where he stood. "There."

"In front of my house?"

"It fell out of the package."

Jason started talking fast, in a hurry to get this over with. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I was going to give it to you. But I played it a bunch of times, and it broke." He sniffled. "I'm sorry, Eddie!"

"Hey." Eddie put his arm around his shoulders and hugged him. "It's okay."

He didn't sound mad.

Jason wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then looked at his friend. "I remember the whole song. All of it."

Eddie's eyes were dark, sad.

"Why does the song make everybody sad?" Jason wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"It makes you sad, and Adel. I was singing it and Adel started to cry. Why did she cry, Eddie?"

Eddie's eyes suddenly looked real shiny. Wet. Like he was crying, too.

"I won't sing it anymore if it makes people sad."

"You can sing it as much as you want," Eddie told him quietly. "It's your song."

"My song?"

"I gave it to you."

"I don't remember."

"It was a long time ago. Don't worry about it. It's your song. That's all you need to know."

"Thanks, Eddie. Thanks a lot. Nobody ever gave me a song before. I have to go tell Adel."

He ran to his bike, put up the kickstand, and headed home, humming his song while Eddie sat back down, stunned, his mind tumbling backward, to another time, another life…

Seemed Like the Thing to Do

Rick was a natural ham. Give him an audience and he couldn't hold himself back, couldn't keep from performing. People were drawn to him. He was funny. He was charming. Guts. Rick had more guts than anybody Eddie had ever seen.

On the opposite end of the spectrum was Eddie. He tended to sit quietly on the sidelines and observe, contemplating life. And he had a lot to contemplate. Where Rick could simply shrug off the bad things and go on, forgetting them as quickly as they happened, Eddie would fall into a black despair.

They moderated each other. Together, their highs and lows weren't so extreme, giving themselves the balance neither had alone.

In middle school, they were both in band. Eddie practiced every night. Rick never brought his trumpet home. By the time they reached high school, Rick had given up music for sports. The school scene, with its cliques and jocks, became a world Eddie merely tolerated, moved through, but was no real part of. His grandfather's health was bad. He was needed more and more on the farm. That was his world. School just wasn't a big deal anymore.

Eddie became more introspective, going out of his way to avoid Rick and his loud, obnoxious buddies.

He spent hours pouring out his feelings on paper. If he had a crush on a girl, he wrote about it. If looking at the stars made him feel good, he wrote about it. And then he started putting those words to music, finding notes to complement the lyrics.

By the time he and Rick reached college, they'd grown apart, the differences that had once been complements were now the very things that made them incompatible.

Until the contest.

A music contest, sponsored by a radio station in California. Eddie put together a demo tape and sent it in.

Two months later, he got a phone call from L.A.

He was a finalist. And if he wanted to be in the final round, he had to go to L.A. and perform live.

Eddie hung up the phone that day and leaned against the wall, eyes closed.

Holy shit.

What was he going to do? No way could he perform in front of a bunch of people. And then he thought about Rick.

He found his old friend in his dorm room at the local community college where he'd spent the last year and a half partying, getting laid, and flunking out.

"Have you ever wanted to go to L.A.?" Eddie asked, trying for casual.

"L.A.? I don' know. Pretty nice here."

"Look at yourself."

Rick had become the classic example of the high-school football jock who'd dive-bombed as soon as he’d graduated from high school. He was no longer a star, no longer the center of attention. He'd been a hero, but now, outside that insulated world, he was nobody, a loser, a man with no talent, no direction. In twenty years he'd be just another alcoholic with a beer gut, sitting in some bar boasting about his role in the big game.

Nobody seemed to get it. In high school there were no big games, only big losers. All that shit prepared a person for was a headlong crash into oblivion.

"I'm supposed to be in this contest," Eddie said.

"Yeah? What kind of contest?"

"Music. A music contest."

"Yeah? Cool."

"You know how I am about getting up in front of people."

Rick laughed.

Eddie glared at him. Rick had never understood the paralysis that came over him, the irrational fear.

"Sorry, man. I know it's a problem for you, but I was thinking about that time you threw up all over my shoes."

Eddie relaxed. "I'd almost forgotten about that." There had been so many terror-filled moments in his life; it was hard to keep them all straight.

"I can't go out there. No way in hell can I go out there in front of a bunch of people."

"Why'd you enter the contest then?"

"I'd just wanted somebody to listen to my stuff, tell me if it was any good. I didn't really think about making it this far."

"Bummer."

"But I've been thinking. I have an idea.
You
could do it. You could be me."

"You're crazy, man. I can't even play an instrument."

"You used to. I'll give you a quick refresher. The stuff is mostly vocals, anyway."

"Vocals? Now I know you're nuts."

"You can sing. I've heard you."

"I was just shitting around, just singing-with-the-radio kind of stuff. That's different than getting up in front of people and making a total ass out of myself."

"What else have you got to do? Your grades suck. I heard you were getting kicked out of school for a semester."

"Somebody screwed up the grades."

Nothing was ever Rick's fault.

"This can work. I know it can."

"Sounds nuts to me."

"I can't be a star, but you can. Look at the people who make it big. A lot of them don't know shit about music. They get there because of their looks, because of their charm, because they can perform, put on a show. You can do that. I've seen you."

He was thinking about it. Eddie could tell Rick was thinking about it.

"How long would this take?” Rick asked “How long would we be gone?"

"A week, tops. We'll drive out and drive right back. That is, unless we make it big."

"I'll do it on one condition."

"Anything."

Rick gave him a slow smile. "I use my name."

Rick ended up being better than Eddie could have possibly dreamed. He had a natural quality, and his singing hadn't been homogenized with lessons. And while his voice lacked the pathos of Eddie's, he more than made up for it in range and strength and pure showmanship.

It didn't take him long to make it look as if he'd been playing guitar for years. Somehow he knew all the jargon, knew the big players, knew who was on his way up, and who was on his way down. Where Eddie had always spoken of ballads and lyrics and verse, Rick talked about riffs, and axes, and cuts.

By the time they got to California, Rick almost had Eddie thinking he was writing his own music. By the time they reached California, Rick was Rick Beck, musician.

~0~

He won.

For Eddie, it was weird, watching it all play out from the audience, watching Rick perform his song, hearing him sing the words as if he'd written them, as if they meant something to him. When in reality, he'd told Eddie the song was kind of dumb, kind of sappy.

While Eddie sat in the dark, people swarmed the stage, congratulating Rick.

A star.

A hero.

And as Eddie watched, he felt a sense of loss, of loneliness, of grief, as if he'd just handed his life to somebody else.