Page 53 of New Day at the Beach House

A new thought came to her in the form of a single word. Redemption. Then a title popped into her head. Last Sunday Sermon. What if Dixie went to church one more time before turning herself in to the police? What if she went up front at the altar call and prayed not for herself, but for the baby she’d only just realized she was carrying?

“The preacher doesn’t know I’ve got two souls to save,” Jules sang softly. “How am I ever going to be that brave?”

She grinned. “Oh, that is sad and perfect.” Country music loved tragedy. And what was more tragic than a pregnant woman going to jail because she’d just killed her baby daddy for cheating on her?

Jules felt gleeful. There was no other way to put it, but this was country music gold. She wrote on, strumming a few notes here and there and filling the pages of her notebook with song ideas and little bits of music and lyrics she liked.

It wasn’t until her stomach rumbled that she looked at the time. She should break and eat lunch. She was on a roll and she hated to interrupt that kind of flow, but then again, if she got too hungry, that could interrupt her just as easily.

Not only that, but Toby could probably use a break and Jules wasn’t sure, but she thought she was the only one home. She put her guitar down and jumped in the elevator. She got off one floor down.

“Toby?” She didn’t see him in the living room. She went into the bedroom to find him asleep on the little throw rug between the two beds. “There you are.”

He wagged his tail.

“Do you want to go out?”

Reluctantly, he got up.

She laughed. “You don’t have to, you know.”

With a little doggy sigh, he wandered toward the living room. She followed him all the way into the laundry room, a sure sign that he wanted to go out, since that’s where Jules kept his leash. She clipped it to his collar and took him downstairs.

Once on the ground floor, he jogged toward the patch of grass on the side of the house and peed right away.

She glanced at the pool. The water looked so good. That was the only problem with living in a beautiful place. The desire to play hooky from work and life and all of one’s responsibilities was strong.

She could have easily thrown on a suit and spent the rest of the day lounging poolside, reading a good book and soaking up some rays.

But she had an agent who was expecting an album from her, and that album needed songs. At least nine. She’d never released an album with fewer than that, so her fans would expect that many. Less than that and they might not be so happy.

Toby was busy sniffing a new weed that apparently hadn’t been there yesterday. Maybe when Cash got back from the Dolphin Club they’d come down for a quick swim.

Jules sank into her thoughts again. What if one of her songs was a cover? She knew what song it would be, too. Folsom Prison Blues. She’d have to reach out to the estate of Johnny Cash and see what it would take to procure a mechanical license.

She loved Johnny Cash, not just as a singer and musician, but as a songwriter. There were very few others who compared to his poetry and originality. She admired him so much, she’d named one of her sons after him.

Getting the permission and license would take time and phone calls. Time she’d much rather spend on her songs. Maybe Billy could handle some of that for her. She reached for her phone and realized she’d left it upstairs.

Toby had moved on from the weed to a spot of bird droppings on a rock.

“Okay, Toby, that’s enough sniffing for one day. Let’s go. Back upstairs and you can have a treat.”

That got his ears up. He trotted toward the elevator.

As they went upstairs, a new song idea came to her. One that would be Dixie talking to her unborn child. Her daughter, maybe? Or would a son be more interesting? Jules decided she wouldn’t know for sure until she played around with it.

On the second floor, she gave Toby a peanut butter dog cookie, then fixed herself a lunch of a ham and cheese wrap with a side of celery sticks and apple slices. Inspired by Toby, she added a heaping tablespoon of peanut butter to dip them in.

Toby ate his cookie and hopped up on the couch for another nap.

Jules took her plate and a tall glass of ice water upstairs via the elevator. She’d call Billy, then get back to work. If things went well, she might have two more songs mapped out before the end of the day. If she got permission to do the cover of Folsom Prison Blues, that would give her five in total.

Four more and she’d be set.

But what if… What if she could come up with a duet that Cash could sing with her? Would he? He had a nice voice, no matter what he thought. She’d heard him sing ever since he was a kid.

It was just a matter of getting him to agree to do it and she wasn’t sure he would. Then again, she’d talked him into playing rhythm guitar for her.

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