Page 37 of Beneath Southern Stars

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ryan

Being backin our house should bring a sense of peace to us both. Except, Pepper has been grumpy and quiet while I’ve been... well, grumpy and easily irritated. We’re a pair, to be sure. My mom was thrilled to have us back earlier than planned and my in-laws were our own personal welcoming committee when I pulled into the drive. It took a few days for anyone to notice our melancholy attitudes.

Assumptions vary from grief to stress and exhaustion. I’ve checked with Cora who is pissed I left Magnolia Grove to come back and fill Maggie’s spot. Through her irritation with me, I see what really has her on edge. Concern for her best friend. Maggie’s team is keeping things close to the vest but it’s obvious something serious is going on.

Pepper is still talking but not nearly as freely as she was in Magnolia Grove. Her laughs aren’t filling the air as they did in the backyard or when she was chased by Steve. She cried for an hour until I realized we didn’t bring the flower confetti she made. In a word, we’re both a mess.

“Ryan, I understand this is only a rehearsal, but could you please give me an expression that is less angry mountain man and more handsome superstar?”

I scowl at the director. As if I want to be angry and irritable. It’s not a great feeling. Maybe if I could talk to Laney, things would be better. I could plan a weekend trip to see her or invite her to Nashville. Only she won’t answer my calls, and her text messages have been cordial but not conversational. She’s the one who told me to leave and walked out. The one who refused to answer her door when I tried to say goodbye.

While my mind drifts on different ways to reach Laney, I run through another take and finally the director is appeased with my ability to smile instead of scowl. Then we run through the entire program again. And again. Practice makes perfect is what she tells me.

When she finally shows mercy and dismisses me, I drive across town to the studio Gordon reserved for the next week. My tinkering at home on the guitar is nothing compared to playing with my band. I’m grateful for their patience and willingness to show up for this show. I’ve arrived a little early and settle on the stool, Dixie on my lap as I run through the song Cora and I have been working on. I’m closing out the chorus when Gordon’s voice cuts through the speakers.

“You’re holding out on me, Ryan. That sounds like a number one.”

“It’s not finished,” I reply with a straight face.

It’s a lie. Sleep has been a struggle the last few nights and, like I’ve done in the past, I slipped outside and looked into the night sky. The missing pieces actually fell into place. I sent it to Cora this morning before I headed to rehearsal. She agreed. We’ll polish it and when I’m ready to record again, it’ll be waiting for me. Until then, it’ll sit in my pocket.

“Guys will be here soon. I have a few calls to make and wanted to talk to Nora Elbein about a custom guitar strap for the show. Something festive.”

I nod in acknowledgement and continue messing with the song until my bandmates filter in. We play around a bit with some of our favorite covers. It’s been a traditional way for us to warm up and clear any cobwebs or distracting thoughts before we start working. For me, it’s a way to reconnect to the music I love and the reason I pursued this career in the first place. I’ll never not love what I do, but sometimes I need to remember the way I used to feel. How the music made me feel.

Minutes turn to hours as we play, fine tuning some of the holiday classics with my own twist. Most of the guys slide out of the booth but my drummer, Jed, stays behind. The man is a legend in this town and his talent unsurpassed by anyone in the last two decades. He’s also stuck with me this past year, checking in on me more than asking if there’s anything I need. I suppose he knows something about grief himself and it’s why he knows the answer is “I don’t know.” Because that’s what I’ve discovered. I never know what I’m feeling or what we need. The list changes hour to hour and day to day.

“How’re you holding up, kid?”

Jed is the one person I’ve never been able to bullshit so I don’t bother. “Not sure.”

“The people who matter will understand if you need to cancel. It’s only been a year, man.”

I respond with a grunt. “Not sure the network or label would appreciate me bailing.”

Jed’s stance widens and he crosses his arms over his chest. “Ran into your folks a few weeks back. We were all a little surprised to learn that I didn’t know you had taken off to Alabama.”

I rub a hand over my beard, wondering if I should shave before the show. I’ve grown used to the look, but it isn’t how fans are used to seeing me look. Laney likes the beard. My eyes flickto the phone in my hand as I think about asking her opinion. Would she answer me? Probably but in a non-committal way.

“Yeah, needed a change of scenery for Pepper. She loved it, man. I saw my baby girl coming back to me. Should’ve seen her in awe as the town transformed from fall to Christmas right before our eyes. Connie gave her this hat that is way too big for her, but she loves. It’s slightly ridiculous with the big postal service logo.”

I trail off, thinking of Pepper waving to Connie each day. How the slightest rumble of his motor and she shot out the door to greet him. That thought immediately morphs into her with Laney. How she’d chase Steve and then laugh hysterically as he turned the pursuit on her.

“Why’d you come back?”

Feeling the weight of the question and the conversation, I slide off the stool and cross the space to pull a bottle of water from the mini fridge. The bottle is wet in my hands, the condensation dripping to the ground. Jed waits patiently while I take my time answering. Do I want to unload on him? Tell him all the ways I’ve been wondering if this is the life for us anymore? Worried that my desire to perform has dimmed to only a flicker instead of the fire that’s needed to make it great for the fans? Or that the only joy I feel is writing in my spare time with no deadline and stealing moments with Laney?

“I was always coming home for Christmas. Just moved it up a little bit. This program is a tradition, and I’m honored to be part of the lineup.”

Jed shakes his head. I know he’s disappointed in my answer, but it isn’t untrue. Maybe incomplete but not untrue.

“That’s the public reason. Now what’s the real one? Clearly your heart isn’t in this.”

Sighing, I drop onto the small sofa and take another drink of water.

“I met someone when I was in Magnolia Grove.”

---