Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) (32 page)

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-T
WO

Beyond the Veil

R
ICHARD
S
ANDBRIDGE SAT IN HIS
office with a set of headphones on, listening to Nadine Carbone’s demo cassettes. The songs were all good, and two or three were simply outstanding. Deeny was a gifted lyricist and a terrific singer. She was an excellent addition to Cross & Crowne, but Richard could see her moving up to a solo career very soon. All she needed was time on the road to hone off some rough edges.

Besides that, she’s really pretty.

The light on his phone flashed, and he came back to reality. He stopped the tape, flipped off the headphones, and grabbed the receiver.

“Yeah, Deborah?”

“Jeremy King on line one.”

Richard pressed the button. “Jeremy, how are you?”

“Doing well, Richard, very well.”

“So what have you decided about my offer?”

“I talked it over with my employees, and they’re all for it, and I am too! I personally think it’s a great idea, and I’m ready to go with it. I just have a few questions about logistics. For instance, do you want us to relocate to New York? There are some other details too, but that is definitely the big question.”

“That’s great, Jeremy! And, yes, we’ve already talked about the logistics. We decided if you want to stay in Lancaster, it would probably work. The drive is only two and a half hours. Of course, you’d have to come over here a few times a month to sit in on board meetings, but other than that, you would have pretty much free rein. I’m certainly not that tuned in to book publishing, so I won’t be micro-managing you. I do want to learn it, though, so I’d like to visit from time to time.”

“Sounds good, Richard. When can we meet?”

“Cross & Crowne are going back on the road in two weeks. I’ve got to get them in the studio to lay down some tracks, so we’ll probably have to wait until after they leave. I know this sounds like the old ‘hurry up and wait’ routine, but I have to get some new songs started with these guys or they’ll revolt on me.”

“Perfectly fine, Richard. I’ve got some things I need to take care of here. Jenny Hershberger is starting to get some interest from some syndicators. There’s a possibility we’ll get her into some big papers in the Midwest—Ohio, Indiana, Illinois…you know, places with large Amish populations. So two weeks would work for me.”

“Sounds good, Jeremy. I’ll call you in the middle of next week and we’ll set a time.”

Richard hung up the phone and looked out the window of his penthouse office.
Why does the name Jenny Hershberger sound so familiar to me?

At four thirty, Deborah buzzed to tell Richard that Nadine Carbone was waiting to see him.

“Send her in, Deb.”

Deeny Carbone walked into Richard’s office. Richard could tell that she had taken extra care to look nice. She had on a sleeveless spring dress that was color coordinated with the large rose tattoo on her left
shoulder, and she was wearing some slightly elevated shoes. Her hair was pulled back from her face, and she wore just enough makeup to highlight her dark eyes and pretty features.

“Hey, Deeny, what’s the occasion?”

“I just came from rehearsal with the guys. It’s only a few blocks, so I thought I’d take a chance and come over. I’d really like to hear what you thought of my demo.”

Deeny held her purse in both hands as though to hide behind it. Richard waved her to a chair.

“Okay then…I’ve got some bad news and some good news.”

Deeny looked perplexed. “What’s the bad news?”

Richard smiled. “The bad news is that you have a few stylistic habits you’ve gotten into with your lyrics that I’d like to help you with. And I want to work on the dynamics you use when you’re singing. Your tendency is to over sing, and I think I can help you overcome that.”

Deeny brightened. “If that’s the bad news, then what’s the good news?”

“The good news is you have some terrific songs. I really like all of them, but there are two that I really love. I think we can build some of the more up-tempo ones into the Cross & Crowne set and record them with the group. But the two I really love, I want you to do solo. You can play keyboards and I’ll do the guitar tracks. We’ll get Johnny Burris in on bass and Eddie Cottrell on drums. Oh, and I’d like to get Kenny Wilson to do the horns.”

“Richard, those guys are the best in the business! They must cost a fortune!”

“It will be worth the expense. I think you have at least two hit records on your demo, maybe more.”

Deeny sat in the chair for a minute staring at Richard. Then she put her face in her hands, and her shoulders began to shake.

“What, Deeny? What is it?”

Deeny composed herself, pulled a tisssue out of her purse, and dabbed her eyes.

“Nobody whose opinion I trusted ever said my music was any good, and I’ve been writing since I was a kid. My dad used to say my songs were terrible. Of course, he was drunk most of the time, so I learned to take his ranting with a grain of salt.” Deeny flipped her hair back over her shoulder and dabbed her eyes again.

“This whole music thing has been really hard. I had to work my way up in a cheesy club band that didn’t want to do originals. After I left them, I played the punk circuit for a couple of years, thinking I might get to showcase some of my tunes there. But the punk guys were bigger chauvinists than the club band, and they froze me out. When I met the Lord, the first thing that happened was getting this gig with Cross & Crowne. And they have been very noncommittal about my songs. So it’s really nice to have someone…I mean, someone like you to encourage me.”

“It’s more than just encouragement, Deeny.” Richard knit his fingers together and leaned forward. “The songs are really, really good. And I love that you don’t compromise the message of the gospel. It’s built in and comes through loud and clear.”

Deeny smiled at Richard. “Thank you, Richard. That really means a lot to me.”

Richard took a closer look at Deeny. She really was a pretty girl. Long dark hair, dark eyes, a sweet mouth, and chiseled features made her a standout in any crowd. Richard took a chance.

“Can I take you to an early dinner, Deeny?”

Deeny hesitated and then nodded. “Sure. That would be nice, Richard. Thank you.”

The Cornerstone Restaurant was more than just a place for an early dinner. It was a four-star New York eatery, and Deeny’s eyes widened when they stepped out of the cab.

“Wow, the Cornerstone! I’ve always dreamed about eating here.”

“Come on then, Deeny. It’s early, so we can probably get a table.”

They went in, and the manager recognized Richard right away. “Mr. Sandbridge! Nice to see you! We have a table right over here for you and the young lady.”

“Thanks, Max. This is Nadine Carbone. She’s a new writer I’m working with. You’ll be hearing from her soon. She has some wonderful songs.”

Deeny smiled at Max and blushed. Richard was glad to see that underneath the girl singer facade, Deeny was tenderhearted.

They ordered their dinner and chatted. Richard found Deeny to be bright, articulate, and funny. It wasn’t long before he was feeling very comfortable with her.

“So after you left home, you traveled with the club band you were telling me about?”

“That’s right. We played every sleazy dive up and down the East Coast. We traveled in an old Volkswagen bus and a Chevy van that carried our gear. We’d stop in a town and get two motel rooms—one for me and one for the guys. One guy slept in the van so the amps wouldn’t get stolen, and the other four guys tossed a coin for the beds. We played clubs where we would make a hundred dollars a night and dinner. Sometimes the owners wanted to pay us off in drugs. Back then it was okay. We were pretty out of it most of the time.”

Richard visualized the band in their bus.
I remember something about a Volkswagen. Did I own one once?

Deeny interrupted his reverie. “What about you, Richard? You haven’t told me anything about yourself. Where do you come from?”

Richard smiled a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

Deeny cocked her head. She had a puzzled expression on her face. “Excuse me…did you say you don’t know?”

“That’s right. I don’t know where I’m from.”

Richard stirred his coffee without speaking while Deeny waited. Finally she pressed him. “Are you going to tell me what that means, Richard?”

Richard passed his hand in front of his eyes. An image came to him.

Fire and water! Fire and water!

“Not tonight, Deeny. Maybe another time.”

Jenny Hershberger let the three elders out. She hadn’t exactly bowed to their wishes, but they all seemed to have come to a vague understanding. Jenny would pray about being open to finding a husband among the local men, and the elders of the church would give her suggestions concerning men they considered eligible from time to time. They said their goodnights, and then Jenny closed the door and leaned against it.

I don’t want to get married…especially not to some oaf who will make a drudge out of me.

She went to Rachel’s room, quietly opened the door, and peeked in. Rachel was sleeping, her head resting on the pillow and her long dark hair cascading around her beautiful face.

I don’t need anyone else. I have my daughter to love me, I have Lem to help me, and I have Bobby to comfort me. That’s all I need.

She sighed. The sound woke Rachel, who stirred and then rolled over and looked at Jenny.

“Is that you, Mama?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just looking in on my beautiful girl. You are growing up, Rachel. When did that happen?”

“I’ll be fifteen soon, Mama, and then I’ll be out of
schule
. But I want to keep studying.”

“I know, Rachel. You’re like me. You have an inquisitive mind and the same curiosity as your mama. But you also have your papa’s way of seeing into the heart of things.”

“I wish papa had never gone on that boat, Mama.”

“So do I, Rachel. So do I.”

The cab ride back to Deeny’s apartment was quiet. They sat in the back without touching. Finally Deeny spoke.

“I’m sorry if I dug into something that is none of my business, Richard. Please forgive me.”

“It’s not your fault, Deeny. It’s just something I don’t like to talk much about. Just so you don’t think me totally weird, I will tell you this. I’m a retrograde amnesia victim. I have no memory before about eight years ago. All I know is that I am a musician and a songwriter. I woke up one day in a hospital. I didn’t know how I got there, and no one could tell me anything about my past. It’s as though my life started eight years ago. That’s all I know.”

“So that’s why you just seemed to burst onto the music scene.”

“Yeah, that’s an interesting story. It’s also why I don’t do interviews.”

The cab pulled up in front of a brownstone on the upper East Side.

“Would you like to come up and tell me about it?”

Richard looked at Deeny. The streetlight outside cast her lovely face into shadows. For just a moment he considered going with her. Then he took a deep breath.