The Red Gloves Collection (26 page)

Ahead of her, the two-lane road curved first right then left, and she saw her turn-off. The low-income neighborhood where they lived spread out for eight blocks, the houses small and old and boxy. But for the paint and a few differences in the trim, it was hard to tell one from another.

She wasn’t a praying woman, but if she were, this would’ve been a good time to ask for help. She’d dropped out of college to marry Bobby Baldwin, and in seven years, the man had learned nothing about her. What she was about to do that night was sure to catch him off guard. She parked, grabbed her purse, and headed inside.

“Hello?” The screen door slammed behind her and she dropped her bag on the kitchen table. She turned and faced the sofa where Bobby and Brianna were watching television. Beth dropped to her knees and sat back on her heels. “Where’s my Brianna bug?”

“Mommy!” Their little daughter bounced off Bobby’s lap and ran across the room, honey-blonde ponytail flying behind her. “Guess what?”

“What?” Beth tried to sound excited. She nuzzled her face against Brianna’s and kissed the tip of her nose.

“I made you a Cwis’mas present at school! And it was the bestest one in the whole class.”

Beth smiled. “Do I get it now?”

“No,” Brianna gave a hard shake of her head, her eyes serious. “Only on Cwis’mas morning.”

“Okay.” She looked over her daughter’s shoulders at Bobby. “Tell you what, sweetie. You and Daddy can finish watching TV later.”

Bobby cast her a curious look, but Beth ignored it. She stood and led Brianna down the hallway toward her bedroom. “How ‘bout you go color a picture for Daddy, alright?”

Brianna gave a small gasp. Her eyes lit up, glowing with enthusiasm and innocence. “Okay, Mommy! Then I’ll have a present for Daddy, too!”

“Yes, honey.” Beth scooped her daughter up, held her for a minute, and walked her down the hall. “That would be very nice.”

When Brianna was in her room, Beth headed back to Bobby. She could feel his eyes on her the moment she came into view, but she didn’t look at him until she was seated at the other end of the sofa.

“Something wrong?” Only his eyes were directed at her; his body, his face were still locked on the TV. He still had the television remote in his hand.

Beth studied him, the tufts of brown hair sticking out of his old Braves baseball cap, the blue flannel shirt he’d worn every winter for the past five years. “Turn off the TV, Bobby.” She crossed her arms. “We need to talk.”

He clicked the remote and the television went dark. Then he shifted his body in her direction. “Okay.” His crooked smile was still cute. It reminded her of the reasons she’d fallen for him in the first place. “What’s up?”

Amazement washed over her.
Look at him,
she thought.
He doesn’t have a clue what’s coming.
She drew a deep breath and let the words come. “I’m leaving you, Bobby. Brianna and I are moving in with my mother.”

Bobby waited a few seconds, then chuckled. “What’s this? Some sort of Christmas joke?”

“No.” Beth didn’t blink. “I’m already packed.”

The laughter in Bobby’s eyes faded and his lower jaw fell open. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

A frustrated anger filled his face. “Don’t be crazy, Beth. We haven’t fought in a month and now you’re walking out on me? At Christmastime?” He let his head fall back and forced out a mouthful of air. “Whatever’s eating you, don’t blame it on me, okay?” His eyes met hers. “Maybe you had a bad day. So … take a nap or a walk around the block. But don’t threaten to leave, Beth. That isn’t going to make things better.”

Calm,
Beth told herself.
Stay calm.
She had expected his reaction. Her voice was gentle, quieter than his. “Nothing’s eating me, and I didn’t have a bad day.” She ran her tongue along her lower lip, searching for the words. “Look, Bobby, I’ve made up my mind. This—” She looked across the room and waved her hand at their cramped kitchen and then at him. “The way we live … you and me, none of it’s the way it was supposed to turn out.”

“Oh, I get it.” Fire flashed in Bobby’s eyes. He was a gentle man; Beth had only seen him angry a few times. Once, when she’d talked about wanting more from life, he’d thrown his guitar through the bedroom wall. She hoped this wouldn’t be one of those nights. “There’s someone else, right?”

She sighed and it came from the basement of her heart. “No. This isn’t about anyone but me. I … ” she lifted her shoulders. “I can’t do this anymore.”

He gave her a sarcastic nod. “Nice, Beth.” He huffed. “What happened to the whole faith thing, living for God and doing things His way?” Bobby stood up and glared at her. “I thought marriages made in heaven didn’t die. Weren’t those your words?”

“Yes.” She was ready for this, too. “I was young. We were both raised in the church, but so what? When’s the last time you took us to a Sunday service? For that matter, when’s the last time you took me anywhere?”

“I don’t need this, Beth.” He gestured toward the hallway. “Brianna will hear you.”

Beth didn’t care. She stood up and kicked the sofa, her eyes boring into his. “Every night it’s the same thing. You sit here watching that stupid television, and then you fall asleep before your head hits the pillow. We don’t laugh or talk or dance or date.” She was louder than she meant to be. “I had dreams when I met you.” A sound that was more cry than laugh came from her. “Now look at me. I can’t take one more day of it, Bobby. Not one.”

His mouth opened and for a moment it looked like he might shout at her. But then he gritted his teeth and looked away.

“You promised me more than this.” She hesitated, and her voice lost some of its edge. “See. You can’t deny it. What we have is meaningless—an existence, nothing more.”

This time when he looked at her, the fight was gone. “Is that really how you see us?”

She sucked at the inside of her lip. “Yes.” Her sniff punctuated the word. “I’m not in love with you, Bobby. I can’t … I can’t make myself feel something that isn’t there. I need time. Me and Brianna will be at my mother’s until I decide what to do next.”

A slow disgusted shock colored his features. “Twelve days before Christmas, Beth? Couldn’t you wait a few weeks? Give me a chance to make things right?”

“No!” She barely let him finish his sentence. Anxiety grabbed hold of her and shook hard. “I don’t want to try again. It’s not in you, Bobby. We’ve had this talk a dozen times. Things seem better for a week or two, but then they’re right back the way they were.” She spread her hands out. “This … this life we live is enough for you. Pretending for my sake won’t turn things around. It never has before.”

“Fine.” Something hard as steel filled his eyes and he took a step back. “If you don’t love me, I won’t ask you to change your mind. But consider our daughter. Leaving now, a few weeks before Christmas? How do you think she’ll feel about that?” He paused. “Wait two weeks for Brianna and then go.” His lips were pinched as he spat out the last part. “I won’t try to stop you.”

Beth stood frozen in place, her mouth open.

What had he said? That he wouldn’t try to stop her if she left after Christmas? That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? It’s what she’d wanted for two years. She’d expected to feel new and alive if Bobby released her, as if she’d been given a second lease on life. So, why didn’t she feel better about it?

Instead her heart was heavy, and an emptiness made it hard for her to breathe.

She sat back down on the edge of the sofa. “Stay through Christmas?”

“Not for me.” His look was harder than before. “For Brianna.”

Beth swallowed. If she was going to leave, better to go now, right? Wasn’t that what she’d decided when she made the plan? That way the holidays might take the edge off any sorrow Brianna would feel—sort of a softening of the blow.

But now, with the facts on the table, Bobby’s argument made sense.

Staying home would at least give Brianna a happy Christmas, even if her parents were separating. They could keep the truth from her until the end of the month so that whatever pain Brianna felt, it wouldn’t darken Christmas, too.

“Beth?” Bobby shifted his weight and flexed the muscles in his jaw.

“Okay.” She looked at the ceiling. “I’ll stay until the end of the month, but then we’re gone.”

“And until then?” Bobby looked away. His tone was so cold it made her shiver from across the room.

“Look… ” She thought about fighting with him, then changed her mind. Her lungs emptied slowly, emphasizing her sadness. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t … I don’t love you like I used to, Bobby. But Brianna doesn’t have to know that.” She hesitated. She hadn’t counted on having to share a house with him even after he knew her feelings. “I think we need to be civil. Otherwise I can leave tonight.”

“Civil?” His eyes found hers once more and this time, despite his obvious effort at indifference, the pain shone through. “Telling me two weeks before Christmas that you’re walking out, Beth? Is that civil?”

They went another two rounds of her reasons and his explanations and promises, but it got them nowhere. In the end they agreed to keep their distance and focus their attention on their daughter. On giving Brianna a wonderful Christmas despite what the New Year would bring.

Beth kept to herself that evening. Sometime after nine o’clock she crept into Brianna’s room and laid down on the floor. Sleep didn’t find her at first. Instead a slideshow of pictures played in her mind. Bobby and her on their first date; Bobby and her playing in the snow; Bobby and her teaching Brianna how to walk. The succession of images was relentless, and all of it played out to the same piece of music. The haunting simple tune from earlier that morning, the one the old lady had written.

Sarah’s song.

CHAPTER FOUR

N
OW THAT THE TWELVE DAYS
were underway, Sarah found the transition from present to past an easy one. The words
High Hopes
were scrawled across the ornament in the second envelope, and when Sarah was certain the young caregiver wasn’t coming, she allowed the memory to move ahead.

S
he arrived in Nashville that cold January evening with more high hopes than money, but that didn’t matter. Her expectations would be met; she was sure of it. She would take her songs to the first music company she could find, sing a few of her favorites, and let the executives explain the steps to getting a contract.

Money wouldn’t have to be much up front. Just enough to make a living, nothing more. But touring was important. Anyone in the industry knew touring was the way to find a following and get a song on the charts. The recording company would have to send her on a tour; she would insist.

Sarah took a hotel that first night and reviewed her plan. She had enough money to last a month or so, but it wouldn’t take that long. Two weeks and she’d be on her way, connected with a label and moving forward with her singing career.

Her mother and father had prayed for her before she left. That first night, alone in a dark hotel room in a strange new city, the words to her parents’ prayer came rushing back.

You know Sarah’s heart, God, and the future You have for her. Keep her safe and let her find the place, the purpose, and the plans You’ve laid out for her.

Sarah repeated the prayer several times, adding her own requests. As she did, a thought came to her. This was the first time she’d gone to sleep without her parents nearby, and yet she felt at home, comfortable. Unafraid.

Not once that first night did Sam Lindeman even cross her mind.

When morning came she set out to find her record deal, but by dusk she’d found just one thing. A reality check. Getting a label to back her might be harder than she’d thought.

The first week blurred into the second. She visited agents and production houses and the executive offices of recording studios. Once in a while someone would look her up and down and raise a curious eyebrow. Then they’d pass her off to a talent scout or an agent or someone on the other side of town.

“Come back when you get a demo, kid,” they’d tell her.

By the end of the first month, Sarah’s high hopes had dwindled to one: survival. She moved her things to a seedy hotel in what was obviously the worst part of town. Talking to God didn’t seem to help, so Sarah stopped praying. It was one more break with the routine of her past, and it felt good, more independent. Whatever happened next would be her doing—good or bad.

Not the result of God.

Sarah was sure her parents would be shocked with her new attitude, so she didn’t tell them.

“You’re praying, right, Sarah?” her mother would ask.

“Of course, Mama,” she lied. “All the time.”

“Us, too. God will show you the way, honey. Just keep looking.”

“I will, Mama.”

Her father’s question was the same each time. “Finding any work?”

“Still looking, Daddy, but don’t worry. Any day now.”

Sarah spoke with her parents once or twice a week, and always the phone calls ended the same. Yes, she had enough money; yes, she was fine; yes, her big break was just around the corner.

Never did they mention Sam, and Sarah didn’t ask. She didn’t want to know. She’d walked away from Sam and the church-girl life that had all but smothered her. She was a new person, and though she wasn’t always honest with her parents, she truly believed what she said about her future.

Her break into the music industry was coming. Any day and she’d be on her way.

Six weeks after arriving in Nashville, Sarah had been to every industry location in Nashville twice. She would take a cab to the general area and canvas every address in a ten-block radius. The answer was always the same—she needed experience.

By then she had reduced her expenses to one meal a day—a buffet three blocks from her hotel. The food was bland and greasy and one dish tasted suspiciously like another, but she could eat as much as she wanted, and the meal kept her going. Late that week, she spread what was left of her money across her hotel bed and realized how dire her situation had become.

She was down to eleven dollars.

If she didn’t find work the next morning, she would have to leave the hotel, and then what? Call her parents and tell them she’d failed? Ask for money and risk having them see her dreams as sheer foolery?