Page 6 of Beneath Southern Stars

Chapter Four

Ryan

Watchingmy daughter play with her puzzles, the sad bunny she’s dragged around for a year nearby, is something I’ll never take for granted. Her lips move, the words not even a whisper. I suppose that’s her intention. Pepper’s concentration as she tries to match pieces together is both sweet and hilarious. I can almost see her with the same intensity ten years from now as she battles math and science. Two subjects that neither her mother nor I were particularly successful in.

As someone who has complained about the noise and chaos of city living in the past, I can appreciate the quiet that this house offers. To an extent. Other than the soft rumble of the river mail boat engine down the river, it’s eerily quiet. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m left with my thoughts and nothing much to distract me. I’m sleeping like shit and can’t seem to shut off my mind.

I have this overwhelming feeling of unease. I’m restless but unmotivated. Worry about how I’m handling Pepper and her grief sits in my gut each night. I manage to push it aside during the day, my focus solely on her needs.

There’s also the issue of my career. How will I maneuver the random hours and travel associated with a music career? Could Iwalk away? It’s something I thought about before Katie’s illness but always ignored the thought, chalking it up as some sort of not quite midlife crisis. But what would I do? This life wasn’t one I planned, it just sort of happened.

I look down at Pepper and wonder what she dreams of for her future. At this age it could be anything from president of the United States to a princess. When I wasn’t much older than she is, I wanted to be an astronaut. Or a professional tree climber. By the time I reached high school I thought I’d be a professional baseball player. Boy was I wrong. Sure, I was a decent player but far from the level required to make it to the majors. Or even the minors. I was never going to answer a call from a professional baseball team or even a college scout.

That’s when I picked up my first guitar. My dad was in a band as a kid and kept his guitars on display in our den. I’d never wanted to sit still long enough to learn but when I realized I needed to figure out what my life was going to look like after high school, I had down time. Unsurprising to my dad, I was a natural. Shocked the hell out of me.

The songwriting and singing was a surprise to us all. The first time my mom heard me sing she cried like I’d never seen her do before. Tears of joy she insisted, but as a seventeen-year-old kid, I wasn’t convinced. Playing calmed my mind. It gave me something to focus on other than playing ball. Other than what I’d do with my life.

When I arrived at college it was still only a way to fill the time, never something I’d planned to pursue. Then I met Katie and she knew I was meant for more. I majored in business administration because while she believed in me enough for us both, I was still a realist.“We’ll take Nashville by storm, Ry. Just you watch.”And we had. Or at least we took Nashville like a light drizzle.

Young and in love, we didn’t care that our diet consisted of ramen and the free meals from our restaurant jobs. She cheered me on as I promised to give music my all for one year. A year to perform at open mic nights and see what might happen. It didn’t take a year. It was, in fact, eleven months and twenty-seven days before someone approached me. Not at one of those mic nights and not after begging for meetings. It was standing at a urinal in a dive bar after performing for fifty bucks when a man made an uncomfortable “hello,” and that moment changed my life.

Jackson Ridge was, and still is, the king of country music. I was a huge fan before I was his protégé. Before he was like family and catapulted me into a life neither Katie nor I was prepared for. Together we muddled through learning the industry’s ins and outs.

Katie was my rock and biggest supporter. She brought me coffee when I was up writing in the middle of the night and dinner when I was recording in the studio. I proposed after my first advance and we married shortly after my first show, opening for Jackson.

The months that followed had us traveling the country on the bill for every college campus and music festival we could find. That was when we met the ladies of Penny Dreams. They had been on the scene longer, pursuing their music while still in their teens.

Cora, Priscilla, and Maggie were forces to be reckoned with on the stage but a sense of normalcy when we weren’t performing. It was a relief to see not everyone was swept up in the negativity and greed that can come with popularity. Together, the five of us fell into a found-family kind of situation. Holidays were non-existent on the road, so we found ways to pass the time. That’s how Cora and I found a kinship as songwriters.

Then life became more. The road was daunting, and Katie missed having her own bed. We spent more time apart. More time arguing over ridiculous things. We both knew it was over and then she found out she was pregnant. That brought us closer together and things got better. When Violet Joy Miller came into the world, she was loud and perfect. Looking at her now, I would give anything for her to scream at the top of her lungs like she did that day. Like her middle name, she brought such joy to our lives it took a while for us to realize the cracks in our marriage were still there. The romance part of our relationship was over. We ended things before either of us could get hurt and became the best co-parents for our child.

Pepper jumps from her spot, pulling my attention from the memories and making me laugh. “That boat really does get loud the closer it gets, huh?” Her curls bounce as she nods and scoops up her bunny. We’ve done this for the last few days and I don’t want to think how pathetic I am that seeing a man drive a small boat as he delivers mail on the river is the highlight of our day. It’s the only interaction we’ve had with each other since that dog and its strange owner barged into our house.

Okay so the woman wasn’t exactly strange. Naturally beautiful and maybe a little intrusive but not strange. Kind to my daughter without making her feel bad for not speaking I suppose erases the intrusiveness.

“Alrighty kiddo, let’s go down on the grass and watch the man with the boat.”

Pepper’s little feet shift back and forth as she smiles, her dimples popping and my chest warming with happiness. We slowly make our way down the stairs to the grassy yard. My independent girl insisting she can do it herself. When we hit the bottom step, I lift her into my arms, giving her a better view as the boat comes into view.

It’s nothing special, just an aluminum johnboat with a box nestled between the seat and the mail carrier’s legs. Are they still a carrier if using a boat? I’d never seen such a thing until two days ago, but I admit it is kind of cool. The man is wearing his sunhat again. When he stops at our box, he doesn’t open it to drop any mail but instead waves at us to come closer.

“We don’t want to keep you from your route,” I shout. I’m wearing sunglasses and a hat but still need to be cautious.

“Don’t be silly. I have a little something for y’all.”

My instinct is to wave him off and turn back to the house, but I also don’t want to be rude. The last thing I need is for someone to find out I’m here and then report that I’m an asshole. This is what I tell myself and not that I just spoke more words to someone who isn’t related to me than since we arrived.

I set Pepper down on the ground and clasp her hand as we walk toward the small dock. Something I didn’t ask Gordon about when he set up this house was the potential of alligators. I haven’t seen one but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one—or a dozen—lurking somewhere nearby ready to attack. Do they attack? I don’t know and I’m not interested in finding out either.

We make it to the end of the dock, and I take in the man before me. He’s probably in his late sixties and it’s obvious he’s spent years on this water, the sun beating down on him. His eyes sparkle with mischief and the huge smile on his face is hard to resist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to bug you or try to sell you anything. Name’s Connie Lincoln and I’m the river mail carrier here in Magnolia Grove. I saw you two the other day and thought this little one may like one these.”

Connie reaches to his side and presents a tiny hat like his own with the postal logo on the front. “This sun is mean if you aren’t used to being out in it a lot.”

I look down at Pepper and her eyes are wide and her jaw dropped open. Her head lifts to look at me and if I were reading her thoughts, I’d think they’d be something like, “Give me that hat, old man!”

Nudging Pepper forward, I encourage her to take the offering. She’s slow to act but does accept it with a cautious smile and then rushes back to my side.

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