Diva NashVegas (35 page)

“What?”

“Marry me.”

“Scott . . . really?”

“Yes. I love you, and I want to start building a life with you. Get working on those three kids.” A warm tingle rushes over me. “Please, marry me. Look, I know this is spontaneous and unromantic, but I've never been more sure of any—”

“Yes.” I giggle, covering my mouth. “Yes! Absolutely yes.”

I hug Momma when she walks into my room. “Momma, I've been thinking
of you.”

Wrapped in her arms, she rocks me gently from side to side. “I'm so proud of
you.”

“Are you really? And Daddy?”

Her hands gently grasp the side of my face. “How could you ask such a thing?
Of course. Very proud.”

“I haven't been the
light
I should've been.”

Momma's laugh is soft yet knowing. “Do any of us shine like we should?”

The afternoon shadows shift and the light in the room fades.

Taking my hands, she leads me to the side of the bed. “Your best years are yet to
come, baby girl. Oh, so good. If only you could see.”

“But I believe. Momma, I'm in love with the most wonderful man. God is taking
care of me.”

She brushes her hand over my forehead and down the back of my hair. “I see hope
and love in your eyes.”

Salty tears blur my vision. “I'm not holding on so tight anymore,” I confess. “I
let go.”

“See there, and you worried about spiraling off into space.”

Laughing, I rest my head against her shoulder. “Look, Momma, no hands.”

“That's my girl.”

I throw my arms around her neck as the tears slip down my cheeks. “I'll miss you
until I see you again . . .”

“We'll be watching from the cloud of witnesses.”

Closing my eyes, I take Momma's hand in mine and quietly begin to sing. “All to
Jesus, I surrender . . .”

Billboard Top 100

March 23

ALBUM REVIEW—
At Last by Aubrey James

She's earned the title of diva with her powerful, soulful vocals; demanding artist riders; and record-label disputes. Crowned the Queen of Country Soul, Aubrey James is all about making music her way.

At Last
is a drastic change from her previous albums—stylized around her big voice, belting out big melodies and soulful lyrics.

Writing with new songwriter Robin Rivers, James ventured down a new creative path, writing thought-provoking lyrics surrounded by daring melodies.

James also shares the album's production credits with her longtime friend and producer, Dave Whitestone. She put her reputation on the line with songs like “Ragtime” and covering the gospel hit “The Man,” written by James with her father, the late Ray James.

At Last
is intense but peaceful and moving, perhaps a reflection of James's life in the past year. Lyrics
like In the doorway, I waited for you / But as the day drifted toward night / The reality sank in / You were gone, This time for good / So I turned out the light, and climbed the old stairs
make us realize she's writing about more than a broken heart—a journey into life.

James triumphs with this album, picking the right time in her career and life to show us her heart and soul. You'll want this album as part of your collection for years to come.

—Grace Myers, All Music Guide

“Aubrey James announced her engagement today to Inside NashVegas on CMT cohost Scott Vaughn. ‘This is one of the happiest seasons of my life,' James said.”

—Inside Access

LINER NOTES

Aubrey James would like to thank:

Dave Whitestone for giving this project wings.

FRESH! for a great sponsorship.

Robin Rivers for the amazing songs.

James Chastain and Nashville Noise for welcoming me home.

Scott Vaughn for asking questions that caused me to look inside myself and reconcile my lifestyle with the deeper desires of my heart. I can't wait to marry you.

Peter James, my brother. I'm so glad we're family again.

My posse: Zach Roberts, Piper Cantwell, Connie Godwin, Gina Lacy, Skyler Banks, and everyone at AubJay Inc. Thank you for keeping me from drowning! Bonuses all around.

Melanie Daniels for doing what I should've done years ago: tell my story. I wish you well.

Jen, the best little sister, you are a true star!

Jesus, my Friend. You waited for me in the secret place, and when I finally arrived, You showered me with unconditional love.

LINER NOTES

Rachel Hauck would like to thank:

Aubrey James for introducing yourself to me, being difficult, then becoming my friend.

Ami McConnell for being a writer's friend, fabulous editor, and for believing in me.

Leslie Peterson for your great insight and encouragement in this manuscript.

Allen Arnold and everyone on the fiction team at Thomas Nelson for creating a launching pad for faith-based fiction.

Tony Hauck, my husband and best friend, for putting up with deadline craziness. I can't imagine a life without you.

Diann Hunt, Christine Lynxwiler, Colleen Coble, Allison Wilson, Susie Warren, and Tracey Bateman for the advice, critique, encouragement, and ideas during the process of writing this book. But mostly for your friendship.

Rebekah Gunter for your honest feedback when I was in panic mode, and for being the best baby sister. I love you.

Kim Hill for saying yes to lunch with a stranger. Your insight and wisdom were invaluable. Best of all, I loved meeting you and hanging out. I'm a big fan!

Matt Bronleewe for being my resident record producer.

Chris Oglesby for taking time to sit and talk.

Kelly Sutton at
Good Morning, Tennessee
for your insights and advice.

Molly Day at Fox 17 for a glimpse into the life of a producer.

Chelle Tapper for praying.

Denise Hildreth for dessert and information at Greenhills Grille.

Davis (and Mark) for Sun Shoppe talks.

Skip Rudsenske of JSR Law in Nashville for the great legal help and advice.

Sharon Hayes, my mom, for always loving and always encouraging. And my brothers, Danny, Joel, and Peter-John Hayes.

Saving the best for last, thank you, Jesus, for speaking to my heart that You would help me write this book. And You did. One day, we'll talk about it face-to-face. Isaiah 41:13

Reading Group Guide

1. In the beginning of the book, Aubrey drove herself to the point of exhaustion. Have you ever become so involved in a project you've neglected your health?

2. Aubrey accepts Car's engagement ring. What was the significance behind her acceptance? Do you think she was really in love with him?

3. What signaled to Aubrey that Car did not really “know” her?

4. Piper said Aubrey was more than the collection of boxes left in the library. What did she mean? Is there “stuff” in your life you're clinging to?

5. What legacy did Aubrey's parents leave? What is the significance of the song Aubrey's mother sings to her in her dreams?

6. Why was Aubrey able to be vulnerable with Scott during the interviews?

7. What did Car's family represent to Aubrey? What did Scott's family represent? Which was more important?

8. Why did Aubrey lie to Jennifer about her name? Why did Aubrey want to use a false name for foster care then perpetuate the lie? Do you know anyone who is hiding behind a label?

9. Peter refused to acknowledge his sister because of his painful memories. Is there someone in your life you avoid because of the past? Do you consider seeking them out so you can reconcile?

10. The most common fear people share in America is the fear of public speaking. Nearly everyone has fears and phobias. In the novel, Aubrey won't drive. From where do you think her fear stems?

11. Melanie betrays Aubrey's friendship when she talks to the tabloids, yet at the end of the book Aubrey forgives her. Have you ever felt betrayed? How did you (or how would you like to) handle it?

12. We are a society of consumerism and convenience. We often think we need more. Aubrey appeared to have it all: success, fame, and fortune. What did she lack?

13. Did Aubrey remind you of someone in your life? Did this story compel you to take any action that you heretofore hadn't considered?

Excerpt from
Lost in NashVegas

How I let Daddy and Granddaddy Lukeman talk me into singing a “couple” of my songs at the Spring Sing,
again
, is beyond me. I can't do it. I can barely breathe, let alone sing.

Blood thumps from my heart up to my ears, over my scalp, and down to my toes. Cold sweat beads on the back of my neck and under my arms. My feet burn as if I'm standing on Florida sand in mid-July.

“Gonna chicken out again, Robin?” Smiley Canyon nudges me with his pointy elbow.

“Nooo,” I lie, gripping my old Taylor guitar for security.

Smiley laughs at me. “Let's see—last year you broke out in hives the night before the show, didn't ya?”

“I had a rash from stem to stern. You saw me the next morning.”

“And the year before that you couldn't find the keys to your truck.” He plucks the strings of his beat-up Gibson, trying to tune. Smart aleck. No wonder Nashville kicked him back home to Alabama.

“And didn't you get lost driving across town once?”

I ball my fist. One pop, right in the kisser. Come on, Lord, look the other way, just for a second.

But when I look Smiley in the eye, I see what I don't care to see: the truth. I relax my fingers and attempt to deflect attention. “Your song was real good. Was it a new one?”

“Naw, wrote it a few years back.”

I nod. “Good for you.”

He tips the brim of his cowboy hat my way. “Better go get my seat. Don't want to miss your debut.” He says
debut
like “de-butt”—as if I'm going to fall flat on mine—and walks off snickering.

With a tiny step forward, I peer around the stage curtain. Freedom Music Hall is packed. An electric twinge constricts my middle, and I take two giant steps back. Let Smiley be right. Let him laugh at me again. It's better than public humiliation.

Turning to flee, I bump smack dab into Jeeter Perkins, the Hall's emcee.

“Get ready, Robin Rae. You're up next.” He grins and adjusts his bolo tie.

Hello, Robin. What'll it be? Anxiety attack in front of a thousand of your closest friends and family? Yes? Right this way.

“Jeeter, I changed my mind. I'm not singing.”

He rolls his eyes. “Now, Robin Rae—”

“How about you let old Paul Whitestone go on with his Dixie Dos?” Behind Jeeter, the former bluegrass icon waits with his round-faced, rosy-cheeked granddaughters—Elvira, Elmira, and Eldora. (Identical triplets. Tall, big girls.)

“Listen, girl, I've heard your songs a hundred times on your granddaddy's porch. You got a gift. A gift.” Jeeter pinches my arms in his bony grip and bugs out his eyes. “Sometimes you have to face your fears.”

I squint. “And sometimes ya don't.”

This isn't like the first day of school or one of Momma's Saturday night dinners. Nope. Singing in the Hall is optional.

And I'm opting out.

Jeeter shakes his head and brushes past me as the Blues Street Boys finish and exit stage left to mild applause. “Thank you, boys,” he says into the mike. “I don't think I've ever heard such unique,
ahem
, harmonies.” He glances over at me and raises one bushy brow.

Shaking my head, I step backward and poke Paul Whitestone, who's nodded off. “You and the girls are on, Paul.”

The old man sputters to life. “Huh? Oh, we're on?” He waves his long arm at the triplets. “Girls, come on. We're up.”

Jeeter rouses the crowd with a big call into the microphone, waving his hat in the air. “How y'all doing?” They give Jeeter what he wants—hoots and hollers, whistles and cheers.

“The hills are alive with the sound of music!” Jeeter cuts a glance at me. “We got a real treat for you folks tonight . . .”

Hand on my guitar, I tip my head in the direction of the ladies' room and mouth, “Got to go.”

“Next up,” Jeeter's voice trails after me, “Paul Whitestone and the Dixie Dos.”

Ducking into the ladies' room, I push the lock and fall against the door. My stomach feels like a firecracker just exploded in it. My heart is racing at top NASCAR speed, and my legs are trembling like Granddaddy's old hound, Bruno, when it thunders.