Jenny's Choice (Apple Creek Dreams #3) (38 page)

Bobby looked over. “What’s funny?”

“I was just thinking about Jonathan’s old van. That’s what I was riding in the last time I went to New York. Well, at least we were headed in that direction.”

“You mean the van with Timothy Leary collaged on the front and Guru Garagekey plastered on the door?”

Jenny giggled again. “Yes. Jonathan took himself so seriously. But he was actually a bit ridiculous.”

Bobby shook his head. “Well, he sure turned out to be a great guy.”

Jenny was quiet. Cars whizzed by them in the opposite direction,
heading west. She counted telephone poles for awhile. Finally she spoke.

“He was a wonderful man, Uncle Bobby. I know we didn’t see you often when we lived in Paradise, so you didn’t get to really notice, but he changed so much. He loved the Lord with all his heart. He was a good husband and a wonderful father.”

“You still miss him, don’t you, Jenny?”

“
Ja
, I do. I miss him every day. He was my one true love.”

“Nothing worldly about loving someone with all your heart, Jenny. Sometimes I wish I had found that kind of love in my life.”

“Weren’t you married once, Uncle Bobby?”

“Yes, but that was a long time ago. It just didn’t work out. After that, I just kind of wandered in my life.”

“I don’t think you wandered, Uncle Bobby. You were sheriff for twenty-five years. That was important. And that wasn’t all.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think you had a very specific task in your life, one that was given to you by God, beyond your calling to be a sherriff. I think you were assigned to bless my family…you know, like a guardian angel. You were with my
daed
in the war, and you helped him to come home. Then when my mama was lost in the storm, you kept searching until you found her. And then when I was in trouble in the woods, you rescued me. And you had an even bigger part in finding my biological mother. And now it’s you who are helping me to…”

“To what, Jenny? Aren’t you going to New York to tell this guy you’re going to leave the church and marry him?”

“I…I don’t know. I guess so. When I turned Isaac down, I guess I assumed I would be leaving the church. Why else would I be wearing these clothes?”

“I can’t tell you that. But I do know this about what you just said…I
mean about me being like your guardian angel. I think maybe God did send me to help your family. Knowing Reuben and Jerusha and you and Jonathan and now Rachel—that’s what has given my life meaning all these years. Strange, isn’t it?”

“Not so strange to me.”

They sat in silence again as the miles rolled away behind them. Bobby reached into the pack in his shirt pocket, pulled out a Camel, cracked the window, and lit up.

“So, Jenny. If we get to New York and you decide not to accept this guy’s proposal, then what?”

Jenny shook her head. “I don’t know, Uncle Bobby. I don’t know.”

“Testing…one, two, one, two…Glenn, can you bring me up in the monitor, please?”

Deeny Carbone was testing her microphone. There was a momentary squeal as the audio engineer cranked it too far. He yelled from behind the board, “Sorry about that, but I’ve already got it almost maxed. You guys will have to turn down your amps a little.”

While that was happening, the lighting crew was making sure that the three main singers of Cross & Crowne were bathed with lights and there were no dead spots on the stage. Charis Records was going to make sure the announcement party came off professionally. Jeremy King was watching the whole thing in awe.

“Wow, I had no idea there was so much preparation involved in getting a band ready to perform. Do they go through this at every show?”

Richard looked at Jeremy. “What?”

“Do they do this before every show?”

“Oh…yeah, this is standard operating procedure. There’s so much equipment, and so many things could go wrong.”

“I guess it’s a far cry from guys like John Fischer or Randy Stonehill singing Jesus folk music at little coffeehouses back in the sixties. When did it change?”

Richard smiled. “Well, I don’t know a lot about it since I don’t remember too much about those days.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot.”

Richard grimaced and rubbed his forehead.

“Are you all right, Richard?”

“I’ve got a splitting headache. The lights and the volume are kind of getting to me. I think if I want to make it through tonight I’ll go take a nap back in one of the dressing rooms.”

“Do you need any aspirin?”

“No, I brought some from my apartment. Say, Jeremy, the rest of the guys from Charis Records will be showing up about an hour before the announcement. Would you meet them for me and get them settled…you know, make sure they get pointed at the buffet? And a whole contingent is coming from the media. Make sure the box office has their press passes. Then come get me in time to freshen up a bit.”

“Consider it handled, Richard.”

The old Ford truck crept up Third Avenue looking for East Sixty-Second. Cabs were zipping by, and the cars behind Bobby were honking belligerently.

Bobby glanced at Jenny. “I don’t think we’re in Ohio anymore, Toto.”

Jenny grinned. “This isn’t Paradise, that’s for sure.”

Finally they reached the cross street and turned left. Jenny checked the address Jeremy had given her.

“It’s twenty-five East Sixty-Second, Uncle Bobby.”

They pulled up at the address. The club was in an old brick building with modern awnings attached over the barred windows. The sign
above the door was simple and elegant.
Paradisio
. A strange chill went down Jenny’s spine.

“Maybe I was wrong, Uncle Bobby. Maybe we are in Paradise after all.”

Richard Sandbridge lay in the darkened dressing room. The pain in his head was becoming more intense.

Maybe I should have stayed in the hospital.

The room began to swirl, and Richard felt a little sick. He closed his eyes. Then suddenly he was in a van, an old van…

Another car passed going west, followed by a string of cars. He could see the waves of the lake lapping against the bare dirt shore. A dead stump sticking up out of the water came into view. Then the clouds over the lake opened up a bit, and the dim new moon faintly lit the bleak landscape, touching the waters of the lake with a ghastly illumination. The starkness of his surroundings and the events of the past few days crowded in on him, and fear gripped him. He saw Shub’s eyes, dead, like this horrible place, and he almost ran off the road. His breath was coming in gasps, so he pulled over to the side of the road.

Get it together, Johnny! Do something! Get a grip on yourself.

Richard jerked awake. The vision had been so real. Where was that? Who was Shub…and who was Johnny?

Bobby rolled down the window when the young man in the tuxedo knocked on it.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, we are supposed to go to a party in that club, but there’s no place to park.”

The young man looked at the truck and smirked. “You won’t find a parking place until you get to New Jersey. We do have valet parking, but I’m not sure any of our attendants would want to drive this hunk-a-junk over there.”

Bobby reached out through the window, took hold of the young man’s lapel, and pulled him close.

“I didn’t live through World War II and twenty-five years as a cop to be tweaked by a smart-aleck kid on the streets of New York. Now you give me exact instructions on how to get to your ‘val-ay parking,’ or I might make you show me in person—from the back of the truck.”

The young man’s demeanor changed noticeably. “Yes…yes, sir! It’s right around the corner. You’ll see the sign for
Paradisio
parking. Just give them this.”

He handed Bobby a ticket. “And if you’d like, sir, I can escort the young lady inside until you return.”

“Much better attitude, son. You do that.”

Richard got up and went into the bathroom. He reached in his pocket, grabbed the aspirin bottle, and shook four out into his palm. He looked up into the mirror. The man he saw there was not him. The face was different; the hair was long and the clothes…

A thin cotton embroidered shirt, torn bell-bottom jeans, and green suede Beatle boots…a leather-fringed jacket…he stared at his pale complexion…I’ve got to get out more…

Richard blinked his eyes. He was back, but he was beginning to feel unnerved.

This is getting way too weird. I should just forget this and go home.

There was a knock on the door. “Richard? Are you ready?”

“Jeremy. Do me a favor and get the band to play a couple of songs. Then we’ll do the announcement. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Okay, Richard, I’ll take care of it.”

Jenny walked into the club. The place was dark except for a brightly lit stage, where a few people were doing what looked like last-minute arrangements. A spotlight projected a message on a curtain behind
the stage—Charis/Kerusso, Christ in the Arts. Jenny didn’t understand what that meant. As she stood and wondered, she heard a voice say her name.

“Jenny? Is that you?”

Jenny turned to see Jeremy walking toward her. He stopped in front of her and stared. “You…you look so different.”

She clutched her purse. Suddenly she felt as local as…
a fish in a tree? Jonathan used to say that.

“Don’t you like it, Jeremy?”

“Of course I do! You look…absolutely amazing. Wonderful. I…”

Jenny blushed, and then she remembered Bobby.

“Jeremy, can you make sure that my uncle, Bobby Halverson, gets in? He drove me.”

“Sure, Jenny. Just wait here for a minute and I’ll put him on the guest list.”

Jeremy walked away, and Jenny sat down at a table. She looked around her at the crowded room. The place was awful—the stage lights and the darkness and people with no faces talking loudly…she was overwhelmed by it. As she sat there, a man came out on the stage and grabbed one of the microphones. Behind him some men with instruments came out and began plugging in. A very pretty girl with long dark hair sat down behind the grand piano. The man spoke.

“Welcome, everyone. Tonight we launch what we hope will be a new season for the gospel in the arts. All of you are here because you love the Lord and you want to see His name lifted up in the music industry and through book publishing. But before we get to our big announcement, we are going to have these guys open the evening with some of their songs. Here they are…Crossss aaaandd Crownnnne!”

The people in the club began cheering and shouting. Suddenly there was a huge roll of the drums and a loud, frantic-sounding solo from the guitarist, who twitched and swayed and then struck a triumphant
pose with his last note. The band powered in with the first chords of the song, and the room was filled with ear-splitting sound. The singers stepped to the microphones and began to sing. It was something about “long ago in Jerusalem,” but Jenny couldn’t understand the words. The noise was deafening. She put her hands over her ears and got up. Jeremy came back and saw her standing there with a stunned look on her face.

“Jenny, what is it?”

She could barely hear him. She had to shout back at him.

“I can’t…I can’t, Jeremy. This won’t work. I’ve got to go.”

She turned and headed for the door. Jeremy ran after her.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
-N
INE

The Song