A Nashville Collection (69 page)

“We're so glad you're here,” Beth says when the applause fades away. “Me too.” I smile and peer out over the crowd, bringing a blur of people into focus, seeing their smiles, catching the glint in their eyes.

Scott: You've been busy.

AJ: I have, I have. But it's all good.

Beth: You released a new CD,
At Last.
Tell us about it.

AJ: I love this album. It's my coming-of-age project. Robin Rivers and I wrote most of the songs. Two I wrote on my own, making this the first album of my own material. It's both thrilling and frightening.

Scott: This album has been out for three months, but it's not blowing up the charts
like a typical Aubrey James record. Are you concerned?

AJ: Not really. This album isn't getting as much radio play as previous records, but we're confident Aubrey James fans will find their way to this album and love it.

Beth: You parted ways with SongTunes last fall after being with the label eight
years.

AJ: Yes, we just didn't see eye to eye on a few things, and Nashville Noise opened their arms to me. So, I made a change. I loved being with SongTunes and have a deep respect for all the people there, but in the end, their idea of Aubrey James and my idea were completely different.

Scott: Tell us about the CMAs. You were nominated last year, but come November
you didn't win, again. It's still the one award that eludes you.

AJ: [smiling] Must not be my time to win a CMA. I'm very satisfied with my career and the awards I've won. If there's no CMA award in my future, I'm okay with it. Actually, I get more attention and accolades from my fans and peers when I lose. Everyone wants to reassure me.

Scott: Because of the wait, will it make the award more special when you win?

AJ: Absolutely.
If
I win. Being denied year after year forces me to understand my career is not defined by ceremonies and awards.

On the other hand, my career took off way too fast and easy. Not winning a CMA teaches me the beauty of the sacrifice. How much more I'll appreciate the award when it comes. Let me tell you, Susan Lucci loves her Emmy way more than the other actresses whose names I can't even recall. Losing made her more famous than winning. We loved her courage and poise year after year. We cheered for her. Not a bad road to take, if you ask me.”

Scott
: [nodding] Said with true Aubrey James grace.

Beth: Your name's been missing from the tabloids lately
.

AJ: [applauding, gazing at the audience] For once, and I'm loving it.

Beth: [touching Aubrey on the arm] So, there's nothing new going on in the love life
department. No news?

AJ: Nothing new, yet. I've been enjoying this season of my life. First time in eleven years I'm not doing a spring tour. We're thinking of going out some over the summer, but wow, I've just been exhaling and getting some things straight in my life. Returning to some core values like my faith. It's very liberating, and I'm having a great time
being
instead of
doing
.

Beth: Sounds wonderful. I can see the peace in your eyes
.

Scott: [smiling] So, where's Aubrey James ten years from now?

AJ: [thinking] Married to the guy who taught her to drive, expecting baby number three.

Scott
: (
Cough . . . sputter . . . choke
)
[gulping water]

Beth: Scott, are you all right? [grinning at the audience, patting him on the back]
So, Aubrey, were you holding out before? Is there a special someone in your
life? Who is this man who taught you to drive?

AJ: [smiling, shaking her head] No holding out on you Beth. I'm not sure the guy knows. I just discovered it myself.

The producer signals ten seconds to a break.

Scott: Aubrey, it's always good to have you on
Inside NashVegas on CMT
.
When we come back from commercial, you're going to sing for us, right?

AJ: Absolutely. I'm here with my band, and we're going to perform my first single from the new album, but first—[holding up her finger, looking around] Do we have time? I've got to show you all something I'm very proud of, more than the album. [reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, she pulls out a small card] I'm thirty years old and for the first time in my life, I have a driver's license. [flashing license at the camera] Can you see it?

Beth: [applauding with the audience] Congratulations. Good for you.

Scott: [stepping down to kiss her cheek] Very proud of you.

AJ: [staring at her license] I
love
to drive. What have I been doing all these years? The responsibility of driving is so freeing. I need to thank my friend who taught me to drive because he renewed my faith in chivalry and true love. Well, [looking at Beth] he's the love of my life. [slipping her license back into her pocket]

Scott: [clearing his throat] We'll be right back with Aubrey James.

A fire crackles in the family room fireplace as I pace around, untouched
by its warmth. George and Ringo watch me, lifting their doggy eyebrows as if to ask, “What's wrong?”

He hasn't called. Confessing my love for him on national TV might have been a little too Julia Roberts in
Notting Hill
, but I had to do it.

The moment I walked onto the set, my feelings for him surfaced and it hit me: “I'm in love with my best friend, Scott Vaughn.”

Five months have passed since his Vaughn Fest confession of love. Five months of friendship, laughter, Bible study, late-night heart-to-hearts, and a volcano of smoldering passion. The entire time I kept him at arm's length, waiting for our affection and longing to fade. But it's only increased.

Glancing at the time, I wonder again why he hasn't called. Did I freak him out with my cloaked on-air confession? I run the heel of my hand over my forehead.
Please call.

When the doorbell rings, George and Ringo jump up, baying and barking, their nails clicking against the marble as they run to the door. The foyer is a lovely, rich burnt-orange glaze now, and the decorator Piper convinced me to hire finished the upstairs last month. The house is beautiful. And very much a reflection of me.

I check the security camera to see who's at the door. My heart nearly stops.

“Are you going to leave me out here all night?”

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I fix my smile and jerk open the door. “Hey.”

Scott is leaning against the wall, handsome in his jeans and tweed jacket. “So,” he starts, coming in and closing the door behind him. “I was at work today, doing the show with Beth, as usual, and we had this really cool, drop-dead-gorgeous guest on.” George and Ringo sniff his feet, panting, eyeing him, waiting for a pet.

“Really? Anyone I know?”

He slips his arms around my waist and kisses my forehead. “Yeah, she's a country artist. Decent singer, pretty good entertainer.”

“A B-Lister.” I kiss his neck softly. My thoughts are mushy and soft. “I-I don't bother with them. Nothing but trouble.”

“Hum, too bad, because”—Scott kisses my cheek, then my neck— ”she told me she loves me. So, I'm going to have to go with her to the ends of the earth.”

“Wow, really? I guess this is good-bye, then?”

He grips me a little tighter. “Not in a million years.” His lips touch mine, soft at first, then with released passion.

My heart beats like a flitting bird and my legs go weak and wobbly. “I love you, Scott. With all my heart.”

“So I heard,” he says, his breathing deep as he buries his face in my hair. “I love you too. Very much.” He lifts his head, cupping my face in his hands. “I'm never leaving you. You're stuck with me for life now.”

“A life sentence.” I tip my head back with a laugh.

Scott jumps back suddenly and thrusts his fist to his mouth, “Scott Vaughn here for
Inside NashVegas
. We have breaking news.”

His deep, fake TV anchorman voice makes me laugh. I bat my hands at him. “Stop, you're creeping me out.”

“Ladies and gentleman, we've just learned country sensation Aubrey James is in love.” Every other word is enunciated.

“Miss James, what do you have to say for yourself?” He juts the fake mike to my lips.

“That my boyfriend is a loon and I should change my mind.”

He lowers his arm and the light in his eye darkens. “Marry me.”

“What?”

“Marry me.”

“Scott . . . really?”

“Yes. I love you, and I want to start building a life with you. Get working on those three kids.” A warm tingle rushes over me. “Please, marry me. Look, I know this is spontaneous and unromantic, but I've never been more sure of any—”

“Yes.” I giggle, covering my mouth. “Yes! Absolutely yes.”

I hug Momma when she walks into my room. “Momma, I've been thinking
of you.”

Wrapped in her arms, she rocks me gently from side to side. “I'm so proud of
you.”

“Are you really? And Daddy?”

Her hands gently grasp the side of my face. “How could you ask such a thing?
Of course. Very proud.”

“I haven't been the
light
I should've been.”

Momma's laugh is soft yet knowing. “Do any of us shine like we should?”

The afternoon shadows shift and the light in the room fades.

Taking my hands, she leads me to the side of the bed. “Your best years are yet to
come, baby girl. Oh, so good. If only you could see.”

“But I believe. Momma, I'm in love with the most wonderful man. God is taking
care of me.”

She brushes her hand over my forehead and down the back of my hair. “I see hope
and love in your eyes.”

Salty tears blur my vision. “I'm not holding on so tight anymore,” I confess. “I
let go.”

“See there, and you worried about spiraling off into space.”

Laughing, I rest my head against her shoulder. “Look, Momma, no hands.”

“That's my girl.”

I throw my arms around her neck as the tears slip down my cheeks. “I'll miss you
until I see you again . . .”

“We'll be watching from the cloud of witnesses.”

Closing my eyes, I take Momma's hand in mine and quietly begin to sing. “All to
Jesus, I surrender . . .”

Nashville Dreams Acknowledgments

My motto would be “Lost in Palm Bay” if it hadn't been
for the amazing support and advice of so many people.
Every ounce of me screams thank you, thank you,
thank you to everyone who encouraged me with this
manuscript . . .

Jesus, my Friend—Your love delivered me from all my fears.

My husband and best friend, Tony—you travel the journey of each book with me. Blessings upon you for not caring about piddly stuff like food and wrinkled laundry. I love you very much.

My agent, Karen Solem—you called me one day with an idea, and lo these many months later, here it is. This book began with you.

Christine Lynxwiler—you read one version after another. Thank you for your critique and loving this manuscript once we got it off the ground.

Tracey Bateman, Susie Warren, and Susan Downs—thank you for the encouragement. Susie, the “three things” are dedicated to you.

Colleen Coble—thank you for helping to open doors. May the Lord return to you a hundredfold what you pour out.

Allison Wilson—Thank you for brainstorming and lunching at Atlanta Bread.

My editor, Ami McConnell—your stellar reputation precedes you. I'm so honored to work with you. Thank you for your friendship.

My other editor, Leslie Peterson—thank you for your encouragement, insights, and edits.

Lisa Young—my songwriting soulmate. Your company made my nights at the Bluebird and learning the songwriting business a blast.

Vicky Beeching—thank you for the chat at Starbucks. And hugs to Cassie Campbell for introducing us.

Chris Oglesby of Oglesby Writer Management—thank you for taking the time to help me understand the music business. It was fun!

Ree Guyer Buchanan of Wrensong Publishing—thank you for sharing your expertise and insight on the journey of a songwriter.

All the songwriters who aided me—Jeff Pearson, Sheryl Olquin, Karen Staley, Barry Dean, Craig Monday, Lorna Flowers, James Dean Hicks, and the songwriters who played at the Bluebird Café—I knew nothing about this business until you guys shined your light. Also, thanks to Dave Petrelli at NSAI for pointing me in the right direction.

Ted Travers—thank you for funding my research trip.

Eric Exley, my “son”—thank you for making me write my own lyrics.

Kaye Dacus and Rebecca Seitz—for showing me Nashville.

Nashville Sweetheart Billboard Top 100

March 23

ALBUM REVIEW—
At Last by Aubrey James

She's earned the title of diva with her powerful, soulful vocals; demanding artist riders; and record-label disputes. Crowned the Queen of Country Soul, Aubrey James is all about making music her way.

At Last
is a drastic change from her previous albums—stylized around her big voice, belting out big melodies and soulful lyrics.

Writing with new songwriter Robin Rivers, James ventured down a new creative path, writing thought-provoking lyrics surrounded by daring melodies.

James also shares the album's production credits with her longtime friend and producer, Dave Whitestone. She put her reputation on the line with songs like “Ragtime” and covering the gospel hit “The Man,” written by James with her father, the late Ray James.