Run Rose Run(29)

Reaching out to take what life has given

One thing you can say for me is…

I’m driven

Then she lifted her head, and her eyes met Ruthanna’s. “Yeah,” she said. “I believe I am.”





Chapter

27



The day had dawned soft and tropical, and Ruthanna was reclining on a chaise longue beside the placid, glass-tiled pool, playing with a few lines of lyrics. A song about a girl, falling in love. Hmm, that was nice, she thought. And there would have to be a boy, of course—preferably a handsome one. Together…

With love in their eyes

’Neath the wide open sky…

But then her phone buzzed, hornet-like, from deep inside her big straw tote. She fished it out.

“Hello, Jack,” Ruthanna said. He was the only person whose calls she rarely screened.

“How are my earrings, love?” Jack asked.

“My earrings,” she corrected him. “The damn things sparkle so much I can signal aliens.”

“I’m glad you like them,” he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. “So now tell me about this girl I hear you found.”

She wasn’t surprised he’d already heard about AnnieLee. “Ethan Blake found her.”

“Never mind, say no more,” Jack said. “I’m sure he wasn’t listening with his ears, if you know what I mean.”

Ruthanna laughed. “He probably wasn’t, but she’s great. Her voice is even prettier than she is.”

“I’d like to meet her. Let’s get a lunch on the books.”

Just then AnnieLee popped out of the house in a borrowed bathing suit, and Ruthanna watched as she dipped a toe into the cold water and yanked it back with a surprised yelp.

“I know patience isn’t one of your strong suits, Jack, but she needs time to figure things out,” Ruthanna said. “Because I swear, she couldn’t get any wetter behind the ears if I threw her in my pool. She’d never seen a pop filter or a loop pedal before two days ago. And God’s honest truth, she’d never even heard her own voice played back to her! She says she’s been writing and singing songs for as long as she can remember, but as far as I can tell, her audience must’ve been a bunch of trees and some squirrels.”

“She sounds delightful,” Jack said. “I guess you better promise to let me know when she’s learned her way around a recording session. And in the meantime, when do I get to see you?”

Ruthanna ran her hand through her hair and didn’t answer right away. Though she didn’t perform anymore, she still had plenty of business dealings, and Jack was her most trusted counsel. But something about the tone of his voice made her wonder if he was asking for a different reason.

“Jack,” she said. But then she stopped there.

“You’re busy pruning roses—I get it,” he said quickly. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

When he hung up, she put the phone up to her chin thoughtfully. Whatever did he want? In all the years they’d known each other, had they ever spent an afternoon together and not talked business?

Maybe not, she thought. But they hadn’t both been single, either.

AnnieLee walked over, now wrapped in a robe and eating a slice of brioche she’d grabbed from the kitchen. “You get me a record deal yet?” she teased as she sat down on the chair opposite Ruthanna.

“Hardly.” Ruthanna eyed the bread, which was dripping with honey butter. “Darling, you’re still just…rising.”

“What?”

“You need more time. Like dough. If someone puts you in the oven too early, you’re not going to come out right.”

AnnieLee pushed the rest of the bread into her mouth and chewed, gazing out at the pool and the beautiful gardens surrounding it. “You’re just thinking about carbs.”

“That may be true,” Ruthanna allowed, “but regardless, the analogy works. You’re too raw. Now let me see that new song you’re working on.”

AnnieLee handed her a scrap of paper and Ruthanna squinted to make out the scrawl. She’d left her readers inside, but she didn’t like to admit that she needed them.

They knew in their hearts

They could not live apart

So they started making their plans

Ruthanna looked up from the page. “So wait—did the guy propose to her? Or did he just trip and fall? Is she going to say yes?”

“I don’t know yet. I just started it. It might be tragic.”

“‘Blue bonnet breeze’ is nice. But you’ve got to nail down your story, AnnieLee. That’s what a good country song is: a story about real things and real people and real emotions, set to a really good tune.”

AnnieLee licked her fingertips to get the last of the honey off. “Is ‘real’ the same as ‘true’?” she asked. “Because all my true stories are bummers.”

“No, they’re not the same thing.” Ruthanna twisted one of the many rings on her fingers. “But a made-up song should still contain real emotion. And the point is, AnnieLee, you need to keep developing your own sound and tone and vision. Your own unique voice.”

“I don’t sing like anyone else and you know it,” AnnieLee said defensively.