After that, I was so wired up that I couldn't fall asleep. I tried reading one of my books from the library, but even that didn't help me to get
sleepy. I went to warm up some milk in the kitchen, and that's where I was when Daniel and Red got home.
Both of them came into the kitchen, and when Daniel asked why I was still up, I shrugged, and said, "Going to try some warm milk."
Red began to root thru the refrigerator, and then saw the lemon bars.
"My darlin'," he said, and bit into one. "Fit for a king," he proclaimed, and scooped another one out of the pan. He gave me an
affectionate pat on his way past. "This old man is beat," he said. "I'll see you both in the morning."
"Night, Red," I said,
"Night," Daniel told him.
Daniel was helping himself to the lemon bars, too. "You did good," he said.
"Thanks." I poured some of the steaming milk from the pan into a cup.
"Did you talk with Adam?" he asked.
I nodded.
"And?" he prompted me.
"And, I'm glad I called," I said, feeling emotional again. "Adam was-well, he was Adam. Mad, but great, too. You know?"
"Yeah. I think I understand," Daniel said.
"Do you want some of the milk?" I offered. "I made too much."
"Sure."
I reached into the cabinet, and pulled down another cup, and poured the remaining milk into it, and then held it out to Daniel.
"You're a good influence on me, you know that?" Daniel said.
I looked at him, quizzically. "How's that?" I asked.
"I usually come home from a show, and have a beer or two to relax, but look at me now. Tonight, I'm drinkin' warm milk."
I gave him a small smile. "Adam says Sunday. And you're taking me? Or can you get time off on such short notice?"
"I think it's gonna work out. I figure we'll leave Saturday morning, early. Should put us home Sunday about noon, or a little after, maybe."
"What about Red? And the other guys? Will they lose pay because you won't be here to sing?" I asked.
"There's a couple of guys that can fill in for me for a bit."
"Okay," I said. "That makes me feel better. I'd feel bad for Red if he lost money because you had to take me home."
Daniel gave me an approving look. "The guys will be okay."
"You're losing money though, right? By taking me home?"
"It's time I was home for a visit, anyhow," he said, as he walked over to turn off the kitchen light switch.
"I agree," I said, and in the half-darkness he gave me a gentle push.
"How long are you going to be able to stay?" I asked him.
"I think I'll sort of play that by ear," he said.
In the living room, he began stacking up his pillows and unfolding blankets to make up his bed on the couch.
"You want to sleep in your own bed tonight?" I offered. "I can take the couch."
"Naw, it's okay. I'm gonna grab a shower. You better try to get some sleep."
"Okay," I said, and told him goodnight, carrying my cup of hot milk as I went down the hallway to his room.
7
I slept late the next morning. Daniel didn't come to wake me up for breakfast, so it was nearly nine when I woke up. I stretched, and
then got into my clothes that I'd worn the day before. That way, I figured that I would use my second clean outfit for the trip home tomorrow.
When I went out of the room and down the hallway, I found Daniel lying on the couch in the living room, reading a newspaper.
"Morning," I said, lifting his feet so I could sit down on the end of the couch, and then putting his sock feet back in my lap.
"Morning," he said, lowering his paper to look at me. "Did you get some sleep?"
"Yeah. How about you?" I asked.
"Not bad. There's eggs on the stove."
"I'm not so hungry right now. I'll eat in a little while."
"No, you don't. No blood sugar crashes on my watch. Go get your breakfast," he ordered.
"Okay, okay," I said, and shoved his feet off of my lap. "Mr. Bossy Pants," I accused, as I stood up.
"Hey," he protested, jokingly putting up his fists in a 'let's fight' stance. "No name-calling now. You'll hurt my feelin's."
I mock punched back at him, joking in return, and went to the kitchen, putting some eggs and toast with jelly on a plate. I poured a glass
of apple juice, and went back to the living room. By now, Daniel was sitting up, scratching something onto a pad of paper.
I sat down beside him, and began eating.
As I ate, I watched him scribble on the paper, pause, and then write again.
"Daniel?"
"What?" he asked, without looking up.
"I've been thinking-" I began.
"Uh huh," he said, vaguely, only half-paying attention.
"Would you talk to Evan for me?"
Daniel paused, pen in mid-air, to look at me. "Come again?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I just wondered if you would talk to him," I said, and finished chewing the bite of eggs in my mouth.
"Smooth things over, you mean?" Daniel asked. "Sort of pave the way?"
"Well, yeah," I said. "Sort of like that."
"Maybe tell him to give you a break? Not be a hard ass?" Daniel went on.
I shrugged. "Maybe so," I said, trying out a small smile on him.
"No, Harlie, I won't."
"How come?" I asked, disappointed.
"Because it's your responsibility," he said, looking serious. Dead serious.
"Okay," I said. I could tell it was a closed conversation. I sighed a little, and took another bite of my toast.
I looked up from taking a drink of juice to find him surveying me with that same serious expression.
"What?" I asked.
"I thought we had an understanding," he said.
I felt my face turn warm in embarrassment, at the memory of that 'understanding'. I set my glass down on the table again. "We do."
"When we talked, I told you that you had to be willing to accept responsibility for your part in all this, and figure out a way
to repair things with everybody," Daniel went on.
"I know. I understand," I said, laying my fork down on the plate. I could tell that I'd made a mistake, a big one, by asking him to intervene
with Evan.
Daniel kept watching me, looking a little disapproving.
I took my plate in one hand, and picked up my glass in the other one, and stood up, going to the kitchen. I began to run hot water in the
sink to do the dishes, finding that my heart was thumping extra hard, and I was really upset at how Daniel had talked to me. I hoped this didn't
mean that he was going to be all angry at me again.
I was washing the dishes, and rinsing them, when Daniel came from behind me, and wrapped his arms around my middle.
"I guess I'm the one bein' a hard ass," he said, close to my ear. "Huh, squirt?"
"It's okay," I said, quietly. "I shouldn't have asked you."
He stood that way for another moment or so, and then he kissed the back of my head, before he dropped his arms.
"I've got to go down to the club to get some stuff arranged with the guys," he said. "You want to go?"
"No, I'll stay here."
When he gave me a questioning look, I added, "I'll get everything cleaned up, and make some lunch. Will you be back for lunch?"
"I don't know. Probably not. How about we go out for supper tonight? Your last night in Nashville, and all?"
"Okay," I said.
As Daniel was headed out the door of the kitchen, I said, "Hey, Daniel."
When he turned back, I said, "Maybe we should invite Red to go out with us to supper?"
"Good idea. I'll ask him."
7
After Daniel left, I opened all the shades so the sun, which was surprisingly out for a change, could shine into the living room and
kitchen.
I swept, vacuumed, and dusted the living room, and then started on the kitchen. By the time I was done, the room smelled like
'lemony sunshine' as the label on the cleaning spray advertised. Strong enough to make me sneeze a couple of times.
After that I tackled the bathroom, spraying and cleaning. I made myself a solitary lunch of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and a glass
of milk, and ate it standing over the furnace vent in the living room. Just because the sun had made an appearance obviously hadn't
help raise the temperature much outside.
Every time I thought about home, I was overwhelmed with feelings. I could see the homey kitchen in my mind, and smell Hannah's
homemade cinnamon rolls. If I concentrated really hard, I could almost feel the grooves on the kitchen table, worn there by years of
heavy use. I could envision my brothers all trooping into the house, rowdy and hungry, taking off their work gloves, and hats, and
charging into the kitchen.
I laid on the couch, trying to read one of the library books that I'd gotten, but I couldn't seem to concentrate. Home kept creeping into my
thoughts. And my brothers. Every one of them had their turn in my tortured thoughts.
Daniel was one thing. We had worked out our issues, and we were on mostly normal ground with one another again. Guthrie and Ford were
alright. Guthrie might bluster at me a little, but he would accept it when I had talked things over with him. Ford had already told me what he
thought on the phone call that we'd had. He likely wouldn't say any more about it.
Crane had seemed alright on the phone. Calm. I would talk to him again, and he would probably follow thru with his 'move onward' outlook that
he had mentioned.
Four down.
Now it got a little more dicey. Brian had seemed angry, then calmer. I'd have some talking to do to him, for sure. He would likely try to
keep me on a tight rein for awhile, as far as what I was allowed to do and all. Adam, well I was really
scared about talking to him, even though we had talked over the phone. It had been so, so good to hear his voice. I gave up trying to read, and
stared at the ceiling, going over my conversation with Adam again. I was in for some trouble, I knew that for sure. But Adam had had some time
to think things over, and to get calm. And, I knew deep down that he was fair. He'd dish out my punishment, and say what he had to say to me,
and then-well, then I'd have to start working my behind off to have any of them trust me ever again.
Evan. My heart pricked at the thought of Evan. He was done with me. Daniel said that he'd come around, but I knew better. I'd heard it all
in his voice.
After that, I couldn't stop thinking about Evan and some of the fun we've had. He'd been really decent to me when I'd driven his truck
into the high water. He kept my secrets. Well, sometimes. And he was the one that had always let me drive, long before I was legal to do so.
And since he'd met Nancy, he'd invited me along with them lots of times. How many guys wanted their younger sisters along when they were
out on a date? What sort of a brother did that? A good one. That was the answer. A really, really good one that cared.
I'd worked myself up so much that by the time Daniel and Red got home, I was curled up on Daniel's bed, crying.
Daniel stood in the bedroom doorway. "What's wrong?" he asked me, sounding concerned.
"I've mucked everything up!" I wailed. "There's no way I can fix everything!"
Daniel came over and sat down on the edge of the bed, and rubbed my back.
"Hey, now," he said, soothingly.
"Evan hates me! And because I was so stupid, and thoughtless, I probably won't be trusted to get a job this summer or anything!"
"It's not gonna be easy, but you knew that already. What brought on this cryin' jag?" he asked.
I turned on my side, so I could look at him. "I-don't know. I guess it's just getting real. That I've got a bunch of stuff to fix. I'm willing to
do that, but Evan-" I let my voice trail off.
"Alright, listen to me," Daniel said, "Things are gonna work out. Is it going to be easy? Hell, no. But have some faith in our
family unit, squirt."
"I do," I said lamely.
"Now wash your face, and let's fasten on our feeding bags and go get some supper."
7
For supper that night, the three of us went to some little out-of-the way place. It was in a sort of basement building, which you had to get to
by going down some stairs that were so steep that they reminded me of our cellar at home. Daniel and Red had told me that
it was where a lot of songwriters and aspiring singers went to eat for cheap, and hang out with those who felt the same about music
as themselves.
Once inside, I saw that it was larger than it seemed, and the lighting wasn't all that great. But it had a comfortable feeling, and the crowd there
was friendly, greeting both Red and Daniel by name, and there was a lot of back-slapping and joking around. Daniel introduced me to so
many people that I lost track of most of their names.
We ate pork tenderloins that were so large they escaped over the edge of the buns they were served on. I ate half of mine, and gave the rest
to Daniel to finish. After that I sipped at my lemonade, and listened while the circle of people seated at our large table conversed with
one another about, what else? Music. The making of it. The playing of it. The selling of it. The love of it.
Above all that talking, Hank Williams played in the background, crooning out his old songs from a jukebox that looked as though
it had seen better days.
I had a good time, and, since I gathered that Daniel knew most of the people there really well, it was extra nice to see and be around
people that he saw often. It made me feel as though I knew a little more about his life here. I watched Daniel covertly, as he interacted with
the group. It struck me then that Daniel had changed. A little, anyway. I mean, he was still the same in lots of ways. He was still Daniel. But
he'd also gone past the scope of life in Murphys. He seemed older somehow. Obviously, he was older, since he'd been gone for months. But I meant
older as in the way that he talked, and expressed himself. I sighed a little. Not that it was a bad thing for him, but it still felt as though
he was slipping away from me a little. I didn't like change very much.
7
