Music City

Music City

                
By

Leona Bryant

Written by Leona Bryant
Copyright 2010 by Leona Bryant

Copyright 2013 by Leona Bryant

All rights reserved.
Edited by Lindsay McDonald
All lyrics written by Janet Cadieux Used with Permission.

ISBN-13:

978-1493796007

ISBN-10:

1493796003

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing by the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events or incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

                   DEDICATed to

My DaughterS, My Sons and My husband

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my family, without their support, this would have never happened—my sons who inspired me, my husband who cheered me on and my daughter, who always believes in me. You are the best people I know.

I love you with all of my heart.

To my never tiring Editor, Lyndsay McDonald.  I am so thankful to have found you.  Without you, this book wouldn’t be as awesome as it is! 
Thank you!

A very special thank you to Janet Cadieux for all of the beautiful lyrics she wrote for this book.  I appreciate it very much.  While there are so many beautiful country songs out there, my editor and I decided it would be better to have original lyrics just for this book.  I appreciate Janet taking the time to do that for me.

“If you listen quietly, you can hear the melody

Sounds of love, sounds of love will fill your heart

Beware, beware, for static rips apart

Static in forms of hate, forms of hate

Trying hard to overtake melodies of love...”

—Shelly Shepard

Shelly stood transfixed backstage as she listened intently to the opening act with her eyes closed. The beginning strains of the opening band’s final song began wafting through the air and the crowd went wild. She knew from the concert promoters that the concert had sold out. Neyland Stadium, in Knoxville, held more than one-hundred-thousand people for a football game and seats
were added to the field for this performance. Shelly was nervous, she always was, even after selling out arenas and stadiums for the last thirty years, she never failed to be nervous before a show.

“Don’t dare to pity me,

Though childhood pains

And misery had me trapped

And I was blind, could not see

I'm stronger now, I've been set free

My childhood pains, a memory

All my days, had been a roamin’

But Freedom Road carried me home...”

Shelly thought about the lyrics they were singing. “Don’t pity me, for now I’m free, my childhood pains, a memory...” A lonely tear made its way down her cheek as she was reminded of  the broken road that brought her to Nashville so many years ago, to her husband, the love of her life—and ultimately, to freedom.

Shelly sighed and hastily wiped her eyes, this was not the time for her to stroll down memory lane, she knew that. The song was winding down now. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and began listening for her cue to step onstage.

As the members of the opening band took their third bow, Shelly watched from the sideline as the lead singer raised his arms above his head in a vain effort to quiet the exuberant crowd. She could feel their energy, their excitement. They were chanting her name now and the lead singer was waving his arms furiously trying to quiet them enough so that he could introduce her.

“Shelly!  Shelly! Shell-y!” the cheers were almost deafening.

“Folks!” He
screamed into the microphone, still waving his arms to signal the crowd he wanted to speak.

“Folks! I know this lady needs no introduction.”

The crowd reached a fever pitch.

He stood there waiting, patiently. He knew eventually the crowd would realize he wasn’t leaving the stage until he had his say.

“She needs no introduction, she is one of the greatest entertainers to ever grace the stage. She has stood the test of time, as evidenced by those of you here to see her tonight. Someone I am glad to call my friend—put your hands together for Shelly Shepard!”

Shelly walked on to the stage to the
roaring crowd, hugged her friend who so warmly introduced her and thanked him and the rest of the band for their amazing performance.

After everyone left the stage, and the crew was
busy in the darkness behind her switching out the set, Shelly stood in the brightness of the spotlight—and just listened. The sound of her fans was thunderous, ear-splitting, but it was also an amazing blessing and a huge responsibility—all of these people came from far and wide and paid hard earned money to be here.

For her.

She brightened her smile, stood a little straighter and began singing one of her songs,
This Side of Blessed
, a cappella softly. The crowd fell silent as Shelly continued.  Her smile grew bigger as she began singing at full volume when the band struck up behind her.

She would give them what they paid for, the show of her life. She was an entertainer
—she was born to shine.

Shelly arrived in Nashville just days before her fifteenth birthday with nothing but the clothes she wore and a threadbare backpack that held the remainder of her worldly possessions. She left Shady Spring, North Carolina, as Mayelynn Michelle Taylor and not looked back. It was so long ago. The past was painful, but Shelly had mostly put it behind her. The night she left—the defining moment of her life, as she saw it now—was not very pretty.

It
was like any other night of the week for her—all day she cleaned the modest home she shared with her mother and siblings. She looked after her brothers and sisters, did laundry, made dinner, helped with baths and then tucked them into bed. She was in her own frayed pajamas when her mother came stumbling home at midnight, still wearing her uniform, reeking of alcohol and enthusiastically berating her as soon as she stepped through the door.

M
ayelynn didn’t know why she was screaming at her, but that too, wasn’t anything out of the ordinary Maye Taylor screamed at her most of the time.

This time when
Mayelynn apologized, as she was expected to do, Maye picked up the clean cast iron skillet from the stove top and swung it at the side of her head. The empty hate in her mother’s eyes as she stared down at her was a warning—she knew if she didn’t get out, and soon, her mother would kill her.

M
ayelynn remembered looking up and watching her mother, Maye, silently, as she so carefully placed the skillet back on the stove top, as if in slow motion and then cringed at the calm nasally sound of her voice.

“There now, Mayelynn Michelle, you remember next time to put that skillet back where it belongs,” she began walking away, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her
pocket. She didn’t even pause in remorse as she lit one up and sat down in her recliner. Maye's bloodshot eyes closed briefly before she flipped on the television and hollered, “ya hear?” and then settled in to watch a late-night program.

That was the last time
she saw her mother.

After Maye fell asleep in the recli
ner still in her foul uniform, Mayelynn packed the few things she owned.  She took the money she had managed to hide from her mother, she had earned that money cleaning and mowing for neighbors and a humble amount of food.  She didn’t want to take anything away from her younger brothers and sisters—and let the screen door slap shut behind her.

She had no real destination in mind, she just started walking. 
Just as she was beginning to grow weary, she found herself at the truck stop about five miles north of her house. The expansive convenience store was brightly lit, an unmistakable beacon in the night. The gleaming fluorescent lights hurt her eyes, but she took comfort from the glare. Walking along the highway in the middle of the night was not something that she would recommend to anyone.

She touched her smarting head gently and winced. All she really wanted at this point was a chance to use their rest room and maybe wash her face. She had only been walking a few hours, but she was so tired.

The restroom door swung back and forth behind her as she entered, but she looked at nothing. She immediately went into the closest stall, shut the door and slid the lock tight. She started trembling as relief from being off of her feet for a moment set in and fear settled into her stomach for the first time—fear of the unknown.

Not yet fifteen
and on her own. She had less than a hundred dollars to live on until she could get to wherever it was that she was going. Tears slipped down her face as she wondered what she was going to do.

She
allowed herself a few moments of grief and then she gripped her hands between her knees and started counting, until she could breathe, until the tears stopped. Her hands were surprisingly steady as she wiped the tears from her eyes, because one thing was certain—she was going to get as far away from Shady Spring, North Carolina as she possibly could.

She
took several deep breaths and slid the lock on the door open.  The restroom was still deserted.  She stepped to the sink and turned the faucet as far as it would go to let the hot water come to full strength. By the time she washed her face and hands, being careful of the tenderness on the side of her face where the skillet did its damage, she had managed to push the nagging worry away, somewhat.

Leaving the small comfort of the bathroom behind, she lingered in front of a cold display
of fruit drinks and wondered if she should use one of her precious dollars for such a luxury. She could re-fill the bottle with water as she traveled, and she started to grab a red one, then stopped.  There was a garbage dumpster outside—she could just as easily find an empty bottle there and fill it with water from the bathroom. 

She pulled her hand back, her decision made a
s she unconsciously swallowed, noticing how thirsty she truly was.  A middle-aged truck driver noticed her and he was struck by her resemblance to his only daughter who was at home safe and sound with his wife.

With a warm smile at the clerk, he gratefully took a tiny sip of his scalding coffee and walked towards the young thing. She glanced at him briefly, with a doe in the headlights expression on her poor face, and compassion propelled him forward. He took another sip of his coffee, smiled and nodded at her genially. “
Cold out there, isn’t it?”

She
nodded distractedly, and headed toward the door to find an empty soft drink bottle and return to the restroom to clean and fill the bottle with water.

She made it outside without further comment and readjusted the straps on her backpack. The late night air was a shock to her system after the warmth from the large station. She crouched down on the ground, and unzipped the largest compartment on her backpack. The blue polyester fabric was fading, along with her name at the top that she had carefully written with a permanent marker a few years ago. But other than that, the trusty backpack was in good condition. As she dug around for a few seconds, she noticed movement and saw a stray dog observing her suspiciously. Her eyes immediately warmed with compassion.

She quickly found what she was looking for, the baseball cap she had stuffed into the bag. Digging through the few clothing items, her hand finally felt the other item she was looking for and she smiled as she pulled the sticks of jerky out into the light. She glanced up at the dog that was still watching her, straightened and hummed under her breath in a short calming undertone.

The thin hound had backed away from her, further into the dark corner and
she whistled softly to the sad little beast. The short black dog barked once from his corner when she opened the beef jerky and sniffed the air appreciative but cautiously.

She didn’t notice that she
had an audience as she patiently waited on the dog to creep towards her, always ready to run off at the slightest implication of danger. No one in the store dared to open the door and leave, afraid that they would scare the poor mutt away.

She held her breath, and when the dog was within reaching distance, she inched the meat towards his waiting mouth. The dog swallowed the long meat in one joyful bite and his tail began to wag hesitantly. She had carefully unwrapped the last of her beef jerky and held it towards the dog. He gobbled it up and then circled around her, sniffing and checking her out, licking her hand each time he went by.

She laughed warmly and put the wrappers away. “Sorry, boy, that’s all I’ve got.” With a quick tug on her cap, she rearranged her hair and set off for the dumpster once more.  She needed a drink, though she knew she didn’t have far to go—she knew the bus station was only a mile or two away and she planned on finding out just how far she could go with the money she had.

She quickly found an empty water bottle and opened her backpack and put it inside. 
She pulled her backpack straps on a little tighter and turned to go back inside the store, hoping they wouldn’t say anything to her about being there twice now without buying anything.  She shook her head to clear the thoughts.  She’d get her water and then start walking, it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours to reach the bus station.  Walking was easy. Thinking was the hard part. She had not left behind much, but her brothers and sisters’ faces had drifted in and out of her mind as she walked. It was hard to swallow past the guilt she felt for leaving them.

The trucker from inside who had smiled at her
approached her, in his outstretched hand was a red sports drink, the extra- large sized bottle.  He smiled as he handed her the bottle, “Are you alright there, little lady? It’s an awful cold night, and it’s pretty late.  Is everything okay?”

Adults had never really wasted kindness on her. Because of the reputation that her mother had garnished
most adults, despite her good grades and good manners, looked down on her. So she hadn’t been able to stem the tears that had welled up in her eyes.  Before she could reply, they had started rolling down her face with a mind of their own.

The kind man knelt before her and took her hands in his, had spoken softly to her, assuring her that everything would be alright, nothing was that bad. He said his name was Tom and that
she didn’t know it, but she reminded him an awful lot of his own daughter.

When she finally looked into his face, he noticed the dried blood in her hair first, and then that one eye was almost swollen shut and stiffened. “Where are you headed?”

Her reply was the simple truth. “As far away from here as I can get.”

The kind trucker smiled down at her and readjusted his own hat. “Well, I’m headed to Nashville, Tennessee. What’s your name, little one?”

She bit back a sob, “M-Mayelynn M-Michelle T-Taylor.” She finally managed to stutter through her tears.

He wiped her tears away with calloused fingers and smiled at her, “Mayelynn Michelle
Taylor why, that is a very pretty name.”

She shook her head, casting her eyes down and spoke almost in a whisper, “Mayelynn is what my Momma called me—after her. I hate it. It’s ugly.”

“Well then, if you don’t like it, I won’t use it.” He thought for a moment and then smiled gently. “I think you look like a Shelly to me.”

She looked up at him
, “I do?” She asked, her tears beginning to subside.

He nodded his head in affirmation and smiled, “You most certainly do.”

She nodded her head, sniffed and swiped at the tears on her face as the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “I like it... Shelly sounds pretty.”

The trucker nodded, “Exactly what I was thinking. So, are you ready to hit the road,
Shelly?”

She nodded her head with a small smile, “
Yes.  Thank you for the drink.  How far away is Nashville?”

Tom smiled at her, “It’s about five hundred miles away.”

Shelly sighed and then let out a huge yawn. “Sounds like as good a place as any to me.”

It was Tom’s turn to nod. “Well then, Miss Shelly, let’s go.”

She had climbed into the great big rig with no hesitation and the feeling that she was safe was a little surreal. During the ride, Tom invited her to clean herself up using the toiletries he carried in the sleeper compartment of the truck. He stopped along the way and bought her food and drinks, making sure that all of her needs were being met, as much as he could, anyway. Most important of all, Tom was kind and helped her when she felt like she had not a soul in the world to count on.

When they arrived in Nashville, Tom took Shelly to a little diner named Murphy’s he tried to visit every time he came to town. After they were seated, Tom excused himself to talk to a lady behind the counter. She smiled and looked at Shelly, hugged Tom and went through a doorway she assumed led to the kitchen. When Tom returned to their table, he explained that the lady he was speaking to, Theresa, owned Murphy’s Diner—and beginning tomorrow morning, Shelly had a job.

Tom left the table again a bit later and talked to another waitress in Murphy’s. He eventually brought her to their table and introduced her as Debby. Debby was an older lady, a plump, short little woman who boasted a head full of bright red hair piled high on her head like a crown. Her green eyes sparkled, and seemed to twinkle when she laughed. Shelly liked her immediately. Debby had forthrightly come right out and asked Shelly where she was going to live. Shelly’s eyes had nearly doubled in size as she admitted that she did not actually know. Debby had smiled, took her in her arms in a warm hug and told her she would just come right home with her.

Debby explained that she was a widow and her children were long gone, living across the country on the west coast. Shelly was welcome to any bedroom she wanted in her big ole house and would be welcome as long as she wanted to stay. Debby made Shelly feel like she was doing her a favor by coming to stay with her, not the other way around and Shelly was overwhelmed by her kindness.

Debby stepped in and effortlessly filled a huge void in Shelly’s life. Inseparable, Debby became like a mother or grandmother to her. They made a good team. Shelly had found home.