Coming Home (Jackson Falls Series) Read online

  chapter nine

  Colleen and Jesse’s son was a perfect, rosy-cheeked baby with wispy blond hair and his father’s eyes. Mikey was healthy and alert, content to be by himself for long stretches of time, and it quickly became apparent that he had inherited his father’s even temperament. Casey made the trip home to help out for the first couple of weeks, and while Mikey’s mother recuperated from the rigors of childbirth, it was his Aunt Casey who fed him his bottle and changed his diapers, rocked him and sang him to sleep. When he awoke in the middle of the night, it was Casey who got up to tend him. Colleen had been through a rough labor and delivery. She needed her rest, and so did Jesse, who was burning the candle at both ends. So Casey slept on the living room couch, next to Mikey’s cradle, where she could be at his side in an instant.

  One night near midnight, she was curled up on the couch with the baby asleep in her arms when the phone rang at her elbow. She snatched it up immediately, afraid it would wake the entire household. At the other end, Rob said, “I knew you’d still be up.”

  “MacKenzie!” she scolded in a stage whisper. “Do you have any idea how late it is?”

  “Sorry, pudding, but this couldn’t wait. I think I’ve found a solution to the problem we’ve been having with the new song.”

  Her interest was immediate and focused. “So tell me already.”

  “Our thinking’s been too narrow. After the first eight bars, we need to take off in a completely new direction. Listen.” As he played the familiar intro to the song they’d been struggling with for weeks, she pondered the fact that even over the static of a long-distance phone call, the sounds he could evoke from a simple six-string guitar were almost ethereal. “Okay,” he said without breaking rhythm, “here’s where it changes.” And he shot for the moon with a bridge that was a brilliant counterpoint to the original melody.

  She felt that familiar excitement in the pit of her stomach, the sensation she always experienced when the music grabbed her and took her to some magical place beyond her own physical boundaries. When he finished playing, she was silent for several seconds, still caught up in the spell. And then she let out the breath she’d been holding and said, “How do you do it?”

  He didn’t ask what she meant. He didn’t have to. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just there.” And just as he’d understood her question, she understood his answer.

  “Do you want me to work on the lyrics?” she said.

  “Sure. Want to hear it again?”

  “I don’t need to.” Any melody, once heard, was permanently imprinted upon her brain. “Hey, hot stuff,” she said. Thanks.”

  “No prob. Listen, kiddo, want to talk to your old man?”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “Danny’s there?”

  “And chomping at the bit. Here he is. So long, babe.”

  And then Danny was on the line. “Hi,” he said, and that velvet voice made her go warm all over.

  “Hi,” she answered, and they were both silent, the vibrations radiating between them as eloquent as words.

  He cleared his throat. “When are you coming home?”

  “Soon. Colleen needs me right now.”

  “I need you right now.”

  “Just a few more days, darling. I promise. How are things working out with Pete?”

  Danny sighed. “He’s a good kid and he’s trying hard, but something’s missing. I don’t know if the audience can feel it, but I can. We’ve lost the sound.”

  “Sweetheart, you can’t let him drag you down. You’ve worked too long and too hard.”

  “I don’t have the heart to tell him it’s not working. He’s trying so damn hard. Maybe my expectations are too high.”

  “I’ll be home in a few days,” she said, “and then we’ll brainstorm.”

  “Brainstorming isn’t exactly what I had in mind for you.”

  “Oh, really?” Her voice softened. “What, exactly, did you have in mind?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say right now. But feel free to use your imagination.”

  She toyed with the telephone cord. “That could get me into trouble.”

  “I was hoping,” he said dryly, “it would remind you of where you belong.”

  “You have a one-track mind,” she told him.

  “All men have one-track minds. Some are just better at it than others.”

  “He said with humility. Good-night, Daniel.”

  “Ciao, baby. Sweet dreams.”

  She hung up the phone, her hand still lingering on the receiver, as though she could somehow prolong their contact. Her mind was still with Danny, in Boston, when Jesse said softly, “Everything okay?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Did the phone wake you?”

  “I wasn’t asleep. Want a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d love one.”

  While her brother-in-law puttered in the kitchen, Casey studied the sleeping child in her arms, the perfect head, covered with peach fuzz, the blue veins showing beneath milky, translucent skin. For just a moment, she allowed herself to pretend he was hers, instead of her sister’s. And then she felt ashamed.

  Jesse returned with the coffee. “You look so natural,” he said, “sitting there, holding him.”

  “Jess,” she said, “Is it too late to say I’m sorry? Do you hate me?”

  “I don’t hate you. I was hurt for a while, but I never hated you.”

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “It was my pride that was hurt, more than anything.” He toyed with his coffee cup, and the baby yawned and stretched and settled back against her breast. “We were together,” he said, “because everyone expected us to be. Ever since we were kids, everybody expected us to get married. It never occurred to either one of us that it might not happen.”

  “Instead,” she said, “you married my sister. Who would have ever thought it?”

  He looked into his coffee cup. “I’ve just been accepted to graduate school. Colleen doesn’t know it yet.” His mouth tightened. “She won’t like it.”

  Surprised, she said, “Does Dad know?”

  “He’s the one who pushed me to do it. Who knows how long this place will be able to support two families? I already have a teaching degree. With a Master’s degree in English, I’ll have something to fall back on.”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “Is Dad in financial trouble?” she said.

  “No. Nothing like that. But you know how risky farming can be.”

  “Well,” she said, “you certainly are full of surprises.”

  He set down his coffee cup. “Casey,” he said, “I think you should go home. You belong with your husband.”

  “But Colleen needs me.”

  “Mikey’s ten days old. Colleen’s had plenty of time to recuperate. I know you’re just trying to help, but he needs to know who his mother is.”

  Casey looked down at the bundle in her arms and felt something akin to grief. Jesse was right. She’d known it since the day Mikey came home from the hospital, but because the situation had fulfilled her own needs so well, she’d stubbornly refused to face it. Her sister had allowed her to take over the role of mother, and it might continue indefinitely unless Casey relinquished that role to its rightful owner.

  “I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you out,” he said.

  “No,” she said. “You’re right. Mikey needs to know who his mother is. And Danny needs me. I’ll take the first bus out in the morning.”

  ***

  When she opened the door, she thought for a moment that she was in the wrong apartment. She set down her suitcase and gingerly fingered the dirty tee shirt that hung at an awkward angle over the shade of her hurricane lamp. She took a step and knocked over a half-empty beer can. Its contents spilled and ran, pooling in a yellow puddle beneath the couch. Cigarette butts overflowed from the ashtray on the coffee table beside a plate that held the fossilized remains of something that might once have been food.

  Rob came in from the kitchen, carryin
g a bag of trash and looking comical in one of her aprons. When he saw her standing in the doorway, he stopped so abruptly that Danny, following behind him with the broom and dustpan, crashed into him. Danny looked up and met her eyes. “Shit,” he said.

  Rob said, “It’s not Danny’s fault. Really,” at the same time Danny said, “Honey, it’s not as bad as it looks.” And then they both fell silent.

  “I’m not even going to dignify this with a comment,” she said. “What I am going to do is turn around and walk back out that door. And when I come back—” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “And when I come back, this unspeakable mess had better be cleaned. Got that, boys?”

  She slammed the door in their faces.

  Mary MacKenzie was delighted to see her. The matronly redhead folded Casey into her arms. “Come in, come in. I was just about to make tea.”

  While the water heated, she told Rob’s mother about the condition she’d found her apartment in. Mary clucked in sympathy. “They’ll clean it,” she said, pouring hot water into Casey’s cup. “Both of those boys worship the ground you walk on. Men! You can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em. Well, never mind them. Tell me about your sister’s new baby.”

  Casey launched eagerly into a description of Mikey’s sterling qualities. “He’s gorgeous,” she said. “And so strong! When he was only four days old, he pushed himself upright in my lap.” She subsided into a thoughtful silence. “You know,” she said, squeezing her teabag with her spoon, “I envy her. When I held that baby in my arms, the most incredible feeling came over me.”

  “Baby hunger,” Mary said authoritatively.

  “I know having a baby is out of the question for now,” she said. “With our crazy lifestyle, it would be an impossibility. But it doesn’t stop me from wishing.”

  “Does Danny know how you feel?” Mary asked.

  “No. And I can’t tell him. It would be selfish of me—”

  “Selfish? To have a wee babe to hold in your arms?”

  She tried to explain. “Danny’s so needy. He wants so much. And I want for him, so bad it aches. Until he gets what he wants, he has to come first.”

  “He’s a lucky young man. I hope you know how extraordinary you are, my girl.”

  It was dusk when she entered her apartment to the soothing strains of Mantovani and the mingled odors of roast beef and Lysol. The floor had been scrubbed, the furniture polished to a high sheen. The table was set for two, with twin white tapers waiting to be lit. Danny came into the room, carrying matching wine glasses. He stopped when he saw her. “Hi,” he said.

  She took off her jacket slowly. “Hi.”

  He cleared his throat. “I started dinner.”

  “Where I come from, big boy, we call it supper.”

  He scowled. “Damn Yankees.”

  She dropped the jacket on the back of a chair. Softly, she said, “I missed you dreadfully.”

  “Maybe I can make it up to you,” he said, twirling a wine glass by its stem. “Somehow.”

  “Somehow,” she echoed.

  He moved a step closer. “I slept on the same pillow cases the whole time you were gone, because I could smell your perfume on them.”

  “I slept in your old B.U. sweatshirt every night.”

  He opened his arms. “Come here,” he said.

  “God help me,” she said as she walked into his arms. “When it comes to you, I have no shame.”

  ***

  An hour later, she said against his bare shoulder, “If I keep skipping meals like this, I’ll waste away to nothing.”

  “There isn’t much of you now.” Danny shoved aside the bedding, reached out an arm and rummaged on the night stand, returning with an article he’d torn from the Globe. “I have something I want you to read.”

  She sat up in bed and read aloud. “’Fiore manages, through skillful artistry, to combine the raw, pulsating vitality of a Jagger with the silken smoothness of a Sam Cooke.’ Wow. Who wrote this?”

  “If I knew,” he said dryly, “I’d kiss the guy.”

  She read and re-read the clipping, then folded her arms around her knees. “Danny,” she said, “I’ve given this a great deal of thought. I think it’s time to move to New York.”

  He got up from the bed and walked naked to the dresser and lit a cigarette. “I’ve thought about it,” he admitted.

  “There’s only so far you can go here. And with things up in the air with the band, now is probably the time to make the break.”

  He blew out a cloud of smoke. “We have a real following here,” he said. “People know who we are. In New York, that won’t mean shit. I’d be starting all over again at the bottom of the ladder.”

  “You did it before,” she said. “You can do it again.”

  He spent a few minutes digesting her words. “It’s a big decision,” he said. “It’ll mean breaking up the band.”

  “The band’s disintegrating right in front of your eyes, Danny. It’s time to move on.”

  “Even if it means cutting somebody else’s throat?”

  “It’s not a matter of cutting anybody’s throat. It’s a matter of survival. It all depends on what you want.”

  His words were clean and clipped, beautiful in their simplicity. “I want it all.” He crushed out his cigarette. “The whole nine yards. Immortality. I’ve been kissing asses all my life. I want them to kiss my ass. I want to prove I’m more than just some bastard wop kid from Boston’s Little Italy.”

  “You are more,” she said. “Much, much more.”

  He returned to the bed, stretched out beside her. “This is no kind of life for you.”

  She stopped him with a hand on his mouth. “We agreed that I belong wherever you are. Remember?”

  He kissed her fingers, one by one. “Some day, by God, I’ll have it all. And when that happens, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make it all up to you.”

  ***

  Six weeks later, Danny stood before the fireplace, leaning casually against the mantel. Dryly, he said, “I suppose you’re wondering why I called you all here tonight.”

  “Great opening line, Fiore,” Travis said. “Now let’s get to the point.”

  Casey shot a quick glance at Rob, who was perched on the arm of a chair, cleaning his fingernails with a guitar pick. He held her glance for a few seconds, then returned to his manicure. Danny sat down beside her and took her hand. “Casey and I,” he said, “have made a decision that affects us all. We’re moving to New York.”

  Stunned silence greeted his announcement. “We’d like to keep the band intact,” he said, “but we recognize that your priorities may not be the same as ours.”

  “With or without you,” Casey added, “Danny and I are going.”

  The silence built. They were all looking at Danny, Travis glaring, Pete stunned, Rob impassive, his manicure forgotten. Danny lit a cigarette.

  “Why?” Travis demanded. “We have a good thing going here.”

  “I’ve never made any secret of my ambitions.” Danny drew deeply on his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “New York has clubs, agents, record companies. Casey and I are convinced that this is the right move to make.”

  “Casey and I?” Travis said. “You’re letting my sister run your life now? Jesus Christ, man, if she told you to jump off the Tobin Bridge, would you do it?”

  Danny crushed out his cigarette. “Her judgment is infallible.”

  “And the Titanic was unsinkable!”

  “Subtle, Bradley, but I think we have an inkling of how you feel.”

  “Damn it, Danny, do you realize what you’re up against?”

  “Trav, try to understand: I didn’t pick music. It picked me.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned if I’m going along with this. It’s the craziest thing I ever heard.”

  Danny shrugged and met Casey’s eyes. “That’s one county heard from. Who wants to be next?”

  Rob and Pete exchanged glances. And Pete shook his head. “I feel like a rat des
erting a sinking ship—”

  “You’ve got it wrong, Pete. I’m not the Titanic. This ship isn’t going down.”

  “I’m getting married in a couple of months. Ginger would blow a gasket if I asked her to move to New York.”

  Danny buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes, and Casey squeezed his shoulder. He looked back up. “Wiz?” he said. “Are you in or out?”

  Rob had returned to his manicure, and for the long moment in which he didn’t answer, Casey held her breath. Then he slipped the guitar pick into his pocket. “I’ve had my bags packed for a month,” he said. And grinned. “When do we leave?”

  ***

  The day she quit her job, Travis raised the roof. “No sister of mine,” he roared, “is going to take off in a crummy Chevy with two half-baked assholes who think they’re musicians!”

  Casey ignored him and continued packing.

  “Damn it, Casey, do you have any idea how many unemployed musicians there are sleeping on the streets of New York?”

  She picked up the framed photo of Mama that she kept prominently displayed on her bedroom dresser. Touching a finger to the glass, she traced Ellen Bradley’s sweet smile. And squared her shoulders. “I won’t end up sleeping on the streets.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” Travis ran a bony hand through his wavy hair. “Are you hearing anything I’m saying?”

  “Let’s turn the tables. Are you hearing anything I’m saying?”

  “To hell with you! Rot in the gutter! See if I give a damn!” And he slammed out of her apartment.

  She fumed for days. “He’ll come around,” Danny told her. “He’s just stubborn.”

  Rob wrote her a dirty limerick to cheer her up. Danny donated his piano to a storefront church on Tremont Street. Casey packed the clothes they needed and shipped the rest to the Salvation Army.

  The day before they left, she answered the door to find her brother standing in the hall. She greeted him coolly, not sure what to expect. He was gruff, not quite ready to forgive. They spoke to the air somewhere to the left of each other’s heads. After a few minutes of this, he abruptly thrust an envelope into her hands. “Take care,” he said, “and don’t make a damn fool of yourself.”