AT 29 (52 page)

“Beautiful country. The reception to my music has been overwhelming.”

“Your first visit?”

“Yes.”

“Good. First impressions are important. That way you'll come back.” The smile remained fixed on her face.

“I have to admit I'm surprised you know who I am.”

She let out a laugh. “I watch television and read the newspapers. I saw your segment on Today Tonight. Then, of course, Mr. McCabe called from America.” Jimmy's eyes dropped when she mentioned the broadcast. She picked up on it immediately. “It must have been hard to relive your problems back home, but it only showed that you're human like the rest of us.”

Jimmy nodded. “Not my finest hour.”

“We all have challenges. Now your music, I must tell you that song,
Peg
, is lovely.”

Jimmy brightened. “You've heard it?”

“Many times.” She opened a drawer and produced a copy of
Button's Back and Blue
. “This arrived from Mr. McCabe a few days after he called. Right now I only have the cover. The record is making the rounds here at the orphanage. We all love it.”

Jimmy smiled. She wasn't the stern disciplinarian he expected from his childhood. If there was any judgment in her attitude she hid it well. She evinced charm and openness.

“Since you've spoken to Miles McCabe, you know I'm trying to locate Nigel Whitehurst. Can you help me?”

“I think so. He lives out on the Great Ocean Road in Airey's Inlet, but it's best I tell you about him before you meet.”

“He was an orphan here?”

“His father left him with us when he was three years old.”

“We have a tape of him singing and a contract.”

“Ah, the contract.” She threw her head back. “That was two years ago.”

“It fell through the cracks when Blossom's founder left the company.”

“I suppose that sort of thing happens. Tell me, do you think he has promise?”

“That's what I'm here to determine. The voice on the tape certainly does.”

“He's quite talented. Not just in music. He played professional football and practiced law for a time.”

Jimmy took this in. “What is he doing now?”

“What is the term people use? Dropped out? I think that's what you would call it. He went through a bad time with his football, serious injuries that ended his chances. Then he went to law school in Sydney and served several years as a prosecutor in New South Wales. But something happened with that, too. Now, he has a small shop catering to surfers.”

“How old is he?”

“He's twenty-eight.”

“He's done a lot in a short time.”

“I always urged him to try different things. But, now I fear, he's simply adrift. May I be honest with you?”

“Please.”

“He has yet to learn how to cooperate with life. He experiences every twist and challenge as an affront. If circumstances thwart his efforts he considers it a failure of something in himself, a flaw of some sort. He is very stubborn.”

“Can't handle adversity?”

“I suppose that's one way to put it. When he was young it was difficult to convince him to develop his singing skills. He doesn't take direction well. If shackled with a set of rules, he fights. If he cannot win he withdraws.”

“Does he write his own music, play an instrument?”

I don't think he writes, but all of our children are trained on the piano. He did not distinguish himself, just his singing. Do you write your own songs?”

“Yes.”

Sister Marie pondered this for a moment, looking past Jimmy to nothing in particular. Then her eyes came back to his. “Many of our children carry special burdens. Being without parents, it's hard for a young soul to understand. We try to give them the basic trust that a nurturing home can provide, but we are an institution. Saint Malachy's cannot duplicate the family unit.”

“He isn't trusting?”

“Oh, he's not the suspicious sort. His burden is depression. From the moment he came under our care he suffered from periods of emotional pain. I've tried to help him through these times. They come and go, most often triggered by some difficulty. His stubbornness prevents him from learning how to cope.”

“This has something to do with what I should expect when I meet him?”

“You may not be welcomed. He hasn't communicated with me in over a year.”

“Did you tell this to Miles?”

“That you may find Nigel a bit recalcitrant, yes. Not the reasons why.”

Jimmy filed her words for a chat with his boss. He also saw an escape.

“Maybe this is not the right time to approach him.”

Sister Marie shot him a stern look. “I am being candid for a reason, Mr. Buckman.” The hard discipline of the nuns he'd encountered as a child showed in her eyes. “Nothing I've said is meant to warn you away. You simply need to be prepared when you meet him.”

“But…”

“I can assure you he's every bit as good as Mr. McCabe thinks he is.”

Her declaration was quite final. Jimmy regretted his feeble attempt to wriggle out.

“If you tell me how to find him, I'll leave tomorrow.”

“Leslie has his address.” She lifted her telephone and dialed a number. “Leslie, could you come to my office, dear?” The warmth returned to her voice. After hanging up she smiled at Jimmy. “Before you go I have a favor to ask, two actually.”

“Anything.”

“Would you let Leslie introduce you to some of our children? The younger ones might not know who you are, but the teenagers certainly do. They would be thrilled.”

“I'd be happy to meet them.”

She picked up a pen and slid it with a small piece of paper across the desktop. “And, could I have your autograph?”

Jimmy was caught off guard. Since Perth he'd signed many autographs, but never for a nun. “Sure, maybe the album cover would be better.”

“Oh yes.” She became excited as she picked it up and handed it to him. “That would be ideal.”

After he penned his name he remembered his other question.

“Your signature is also on the contract. I'm wondering why. He's of age. No co-signer was needed.”

“Remember, I said he's stubborn. Ah, here's Leslie I'll let her explain while she takes you to meet the children.”

Jimmy saw Sister Marie's eyes light up and turned to follow her gaze to the door. A young woman came into the room, mouth opening slightly as she glanced at him with penetrating gray eyes. She offered a quick smile without speaking and then looked beyond to Sister Marie.

“Leslie, this is Jim Buckman. He's here about Nigel. We've been having a nice chat.”

Leslie offered her hand as Jimmy stood. He reached out only to be struck by a lightning sense of recognition so powerful that it made his knees buckle. He gripped her palm, searching her face, uninterested in the details of her physical appearance. She had not spoken a word yet he knew her. His heart pounded and his senses came alive.

“I'm pleased to meet you.” Her American accent caught him by surprise as she waited for a reply, but he was too lost in a mixture of emotion and puzzlement. It paralyzed his ability to think or act naturally. He continued to clutch her hand, unable to
let go until, sensing some movement, he realized she was trying to take it back. He quickly relaxed his fingers.

“Hello.” It came forth as a self-conscious mumble.

Sister Marie looked from one to the other with an amused expression. “He's graciously agreed to meet the children. Would you take him around?”

Leslie turned to Sister Marie. “Yes, sister, I'd be happy to introduce him.”

“He also needs Nigel's address.”

“I'll get it for him.”

Jimmy continued to stare. If the years in the public spotlight had given him any self-assurance with women it was completely lost in her presence. He had never felt this way. Part of him wanted to get away if only to deal with his feelings, so foreign. Another part kept him riveted, unable to move.

“And, I told him you would explain Nigel's contract with Blossom Records.” Sister Marie's voice lifted slightly. The two women passed a knowing expression. Leslie turned back to Jimmy.

“Shall we go, Mr. Buckman?”

“Jim, please call me Jim.”

“Jim, of course.” She blushed. “Follow me. The children are on break. The older ones are down in the assembly room. The little ones are outside playing. Let's go outside first, shall we?” Jimmy followed her to the door.

“It was nice to meet you, Jim,” Sister Marie called after him. “Please call me after you've met Nigel. And, give him my love.” He barely heard the nun's parting request, an unwanted intrusion. He wanted nothing to interfere with his concentration. He could not take his eyes off Leslie.

She led him down the stairs and through a large door that opened onto a field behind the building. A group of boys ran back and forth in full chase. He guessed their ages between six and twelve. One group precariously passed an oblong ball while the other group tried to wrestle it out of the air. It was chaos punctuated with laughter.

“They're playing with a footy,” Leslie said, “Not well, but it's fun.”

One of the boys looked up. He shouted something to the others and everyone stopped as if waiting to be summoned. They came over and gathered respectfully around where Leslie stood with Jimmy.

“This is Mr. Buckman. He's here from America. Do any of you know who he is?”

One of the older boys stepped forward, holding the ball. “
Peg
. He's the one who sings
Peg
.” He looked around at the other children in triumph.

“That's right. He's a famous singer.”

The children looked him up and down. Most smiled and nodded. Jimmy had little experience with youngsters, but something in the back of his mind prodded him forward. He went up to the first boy and held out his hand. “I'm honored that you know who I am.” His words surprised him, “Do you like my song?”

The boy's face brightened as he shook hands. “Yes, we all do.” He looked over his shoulder at the children nearest for confirmation. There were more nods.

Without further prompting, Jimmy waded into the group, making sure to greet each child one by one. It didn't take long and after five minutes, he was done. The children gradually returned to their game as Leslie turned to go inside.

“That was nice,” she said, as she opened the door. “I'm sure they'll be talking about you for days.”

Jimmy followed her up the stairs taking stock. She had auburn hair in a pleasing style that wrapped about her face. He guessed her to be five foot six or seven, perfectly proportioned with a serene face that melted any animosity. She wore a white blouse and dark blue skirt cut at the knee. Her shoes were also blue and perfectly matched the rest of her outfit. She wore no jewelry, except for a gold claddagh on the ring finger of her right hand.

“As you might guess, the younger ones are greatly influenced by the older boys,” she said, as they reached the first floor landing, “With Sister Marie's copy of your album making the rounds, all the children know your songs.
Peg
was unofficially voted the best song they've ever heard.”

“I'll see that everyone receives copy.”

“That would be very nice.”

“You, too, if you like.”

“No need. I bought one weeks ago.”

“I'm flattered.”

“But you'll autograph the cover for me?”

“With pleasure.”

The assembly room reminded him of Kendall Academy. It was about the same size with basketball hoops at either end. The backboards were shaped differently though, and the lines of the key narrowed sharply toward the end line. He remembered that his favorite sport sometimes had different rules in other parts of the world. Forty boys were gathered in groups, some sitting on rows of chairs reading, others talking. They were all dressed the same in white shirts and ties of light blue tucked into dark blue slacks. They ranged in age from thirteen to perhaps seventeen, although he could not be sure. Like the younger children outside, they stopped what they were doing when they saw Leslie.

A burst of applause peppered with shouts went up the moment his name was announced. The boys closed in tightly as Leslie began to make the introductions. One by one she pointed to each boy, calling him by name and waving him forward to shake Jimmy's hand. It was a masterful demonstration. Jimmy could not recall another instance when one person could call out forty others by name without the slightest hesitation. Not even Cindy, who had the finest interpersonal skills he'd ever witnessed.

Each boy was polite, but clearly excited to shake the singer's hand. Some spoke to him about a particular cut on
Button's Back and Blue
, a question or a comment. He patiently replied, quite willing to stay all day if necessary. Leslie stood by his side, beaming at the obvious thrill the boys displayed. After the last handshake, she stepped toward the door, but a youth at the back of the group shouted, “Wait!” It was not a command as much as a plea. A path cleared and the teen came forward with a guitar. Jimmy accepted the instrument, thankful to have a chance to stay longer.

Leslie seemed unsure, “You don't have to…”

“I can't think of anything I'd rather do.” He lifted the guitar to its familiar resting place high in his arms. “Just two questions before I start.” He sought out Leslie now surrounded by the boys. “How much time do I have and what would you like to hear?”

“Examinations start tomorrow.” She looked around at the boys nearest, chuckling. “But, I'm sure we can spare an hour.” A chorus of shouts went up.
Peg
was the loudest.
An hour later he finished the last cut from the album. The boys applauded and shouted for more, but Leslie shook her head, no. Upstairs, Sister Marie turned from the landing where she'd been listening. She had a smile on her face.