Hitting the Right Note (14 page)

B
y the evening, JJ felt significantly better than she had at the start of the day when Simon first showed up. Half of it had to do with sleep. It had been months since she had slept as much as she had in the past twenty-four hours, and her body was grateful. But she was convinced that the other half of it had everything to do with Simon. She had asked him if he would be there when she woke up. But he had done her one better and woke her up every few hours with a glass of some awful concoction that she was surprised her stomach was able to hold down. He refused to tell her what was in it, but whatever it was, it managed to eliminate her dizziness by midday and provide her with enough energy for a game of Scrabble by midafternoon. Maybe it had nothing to do with the medicine at all. Maybe it was just the house call. Something about being with Simon made her feel better, feel calmer, more relaxed. Life with Simon felt different—in a good way.

By the time evening rolled around, she was itching to be outdoors. Simon didn't need much convincing. A leisurely walk a couple blocks away from the hotel found them at a restaurant with a patio and several vegetarian options.

After dinner she had insisted on going to the airport with him despite his protests. He eventually caved, and so here they were, riding a cab to JFK International Airport together. She was sitting next to him in the backseat, her right arm touching his left, his left knee brushing against her right. She had gotten used to those small contacts during the day. His firm grip on her arm as he helped her out of bed earlier that day. His hand on the small of her back as he opened doors for her that evening. His fingers grasping hers now, as he helped her out of the cab at JFK. She held on to his hand a little longer than she needed to, and he let her. She didn't want him to go, because when he left, it would mean that her twenty-four-hour vacation would be over and she would have to go back to life as it had become.

They walked inside in silence, his single bag slung over his shoulder. The drop-off area was busy, as it always was at JFK. Travelers and airport security moved around them at a brisk pace. He had to go. His flight would leave in a little over an hour. It was time to say good-bye.

“Well, this is it,” he said, turning to look at her.

She nodded. “Thank you, again. I still can't believe you came all the way here for me.”

She reached up and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He seemed surprised, as it took a couple moments before he returned her emotional embrace.

“You'll be fine,” he said, patting her back awkwardly. “Just keep yourself hydrated, get some rest, and keep your promise.”

He held her back from him so he could look at her. “If you start throwing up again though, straight to a doctor. Okay?”

She smiled. “Okay.”

He looked at her a long moment before dropping his arms from her shoulders and stepping back. She hoped he didn't say good-bye. She couldn't bear to say good-bye to him.

“I'll see you, Judith.”

She watched him step back, then turn and walk toward the check-in point. She suddenly remembered the moment she had watched him walk away from her outside the hotel in Paris. They had been separated by EMS workers and she had lost sight of him. The next time she caught a glimpse of him, he was walking toward a car and she was being pulled down into another. It would be four-and-a-half years before she would see him again. How long would it be this time?

He glanced back at her and seemed to freeze when he caught the look on her face. In a single movement, he turned and was walking back to her.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his brows drawn together in a way that had become familiar to JJ over the past twelve hours. Too familiar, in a way that nothing in her life had been familiar in the past few months. She should have been happy about that. This was what she had wanted, right? The dream of celebrity, the chance to sing onstage in front of millions of people, the chance to have a career that was real, the chance to matter. So what was this niggling feeling of restlessness she couldn't escape?

Grabbing her hand, he pulled her over to a cluster of attached chairs. He eased her down into one before taking another beside her.

“Judith, what's going on?”

JJ waved her hand lightly. “You have to go, Simon. You're gonna miss your flight.”

“I've got an hour,” he said. “Talk to me. Are you feeling sick again?”

JJ shook her head. “No. I'm fine.”

“If you were fine you would look me in the eye and say that.” She turned to look at him, and the neutral expression she had tried to frame her face with crumpled at the sight of the concern on his. She sighed and sank back into the chair. She stared out at the swarm of people around her. Everyone moving with purpose. Everyone going somewhere. She wished she felt as sure as they looked.

“Have you ever felt. . . like something was missing?” she asked finally, her eyes still taking in the scene around her. “Like there should be . . . more?”

Simon was silent for a long moment. Then he gently squeezed her hand, which he was still holding.

“Is that how you feel?” he asked.

JJ rubbed her hands across her face as she tried to understand how she was feeling.

“I don't know,” she said. “I finally have what I want. This dream that for a long time I wouldn't even dare to dream, singing onstage, traveling the country doing what I love, it's finally happening. I'm in front of thousands of people almost every night. I sing with Deacon Hill—
the
Deacon Hill, top ten R & B recording artist in North America. People recognize me on the street. Some girl even asked me for my autograph once. I stay in five-star hotels, wear designer clothes, get paid a ridiculous amount of money, which I barely have to use because so much is already paid for. I never thought this could happen to me. But it did.”

She turned to Simon. “So why do I feel like . . . like . . .”

“Like what?” he asked gently.

“Like there should be something else. Like there should be more?”

A look of understanding flitted through Simon's eyes. Then he sat back, quiet. JJ rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes. She couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but she knew that she was unsettled. She had gotten her dream, but it felt like it wasn't enough.

“That day in the elevator,” Simon said suddenly. “Do you remember where you were going before we got stuck?”

JJ opened her eyes and glanced over at him. “I was on my way to the airport.”

He smiled. “You wanted to go to the Rue de Rivoli because you heard that they had tons of little shops that sold inexpensive souvenirs.”

“Oh yes! That's right,” JJ said as the memory came back to her.

He shook his head, the smile still on his lips. “You were stuck in an elevator, barely over a panic attack, and all you were worried about was that you wouldn't have time to get something extra for each of your sisters and for the teenager you were teaching guitar. I think you said her name was . . . Tiffany?”

“Stephanie,” JJ corrected. “Stephanie Corwack.”

JJ hadn't seen Stephanie since last Christmas. She had taught the young woman how to play guitar for several years, but their friendship had stretched beyond the music. Stephanie, who was the only child of a single father, had adopted JJ as her big sister in many different ways, and it had been an emotional parting when Stephanie had left for college two years earlier. Long phone calls and lengthy e-mails had become the basis of their friendship since then, but over the past year JJ's contact with Stephanie had dwindled significantly. In fact, Stephanie had sent JJ an e-mail several weeks ago that she had yet to look at, much less respond to.

JJ closed her eyes again.

“You know, a while ago you talked about a lot of things,” Simon began again, his voice taking on a gentle, lazy quality. “But I didn't hear you mention your sisters, or your family, or your spirituality.”

“I haven't spoken to my sister Sydney in almost two weeks,” JJ said. She shook her head. “Usually, we can't go a couple of days without talking to each other. But ever since we had that fight . . .”

JJ let the rest of the sentence drift off. She still remembered the argument over Rayshawn more than a month ago. They had both offered some sort of semi-apology. But the air wasn't anywhere near clear. Even though they had tried to connect since, their interactions had been strained at best.

“You know, the girl in the elevator?” Simon mused. “Family was all she talked about. And faith. Those were the most important things in her life.”

The very things that were in flux in her life now.

“Maybe it's that shift that has you feeling lost,” Simon said quietly. “Maybe you haven't quite adjusted to that change in priorities yet.”

He was right. In many ways she was still transitioning. And figuring out how to balance all those old priorities with her new life was proving to be a great challenge.

But maybe it was all a phase—just an adjustment period. It was her first time on tour and maybe this was how people felt when everything was so new. After it was all over, she would be back in Toronto and there would be time to reconnect with her family. Then it would be easier to nurture her spiritual life the way she used to.

“You know what? You're right,” JJ said, sitting forward. “It's just the adjustment, just the tour. It's the first time I have been on something like this, something so intense. It's taken a lot to get used to. Even my body is out of whack, which is probably why I got sick in the first place.” She took a deep breath. “I'll be fine. I'll get through the tour, and when I get back to Toronto, everything will be okay. My family is not used to this. But we just need time. We'll adapt. We always do.”

JJ kept nodding her head, as if by doing so she could convince herself that her words were true. Simon looked at her and she thought she saw something akin to sympathy in his eyes.

The call for his flight came across the airport intercom and JJ stood up.

“Even though I don't want you to, you have to go,” she said with a sad smile.

He stood, his eyes still searching her face. Then he shocked her by leaning down and pressing a kiss against her cheek.

“I hope you find what you're looking for,” he murmured close to her ear.

She wanted to respond, but her brain was mush. All she could think about was the feel of his lips against her cheek, the warmth of his breath on her ear, the contrast of his coarse stubble against her soft skin.

Then before she could recover, he was gone. Slicing through the crowd and disappearing, leaving his kiss on her cheek and his words in her brain.

JJ sat down on the chair she had just vacated. If she hadn't been confused before, she definitely was now.

I
t was way too early in the morning.

This is what JJ knew for sure as she took the stairs down to the lobby early the next Saturday morning. Everyone else was sleeping. The show they had played the night before at Philadelphia's Mann Center had been completely sold-out. JJ had heard that people who had missed the New York show had driven in for this one. The rumor was that scalpers were selling last-minute tickets on the street for sometimes more than twice their value. Their second show later that night promised to be just as packed, and if JJ knew what was good for her, she would have stayed tucked into her sheets and not gotten up until an hour before their four p.m. sound check. But for some reason here she was, ten fifteen in the morning, stepping through the glass doors of her hotel, oversized sunglasses on, light jacket thrown over a simple blue summer dress, clutching a piece of paper with an address hastily scribbled on it.

It wasn't hard to find a cab. The second driver she asked actually knew the address, and so JJ sat back for the ride. In twenty minutes she was in Chestnut Hill, a neighborhood in the northwestern part of the city that didn't seem like it belonged in fast-paced Philadelphia at all. Furthermore, the beautiful European-style stone structure that the driver stopped in front of looked from the outside to be more like a cathedral than the kind of church she was used to. Nonetheless, the gathering of people just outside the front steps told her it was exactly what she was looking for.

JJ paid the driver and murmured her thank-you before stepping out of the vehicle onto the sidewalk. Usually she didn't much enjoy being in churches where she knew no one. She enjoyed the fellowship of her spiritual family and craved the freedom that came from being with people who shared her beliefs. But today she was just content to be somewhere where God might be also.

The restlessness hadn't gone away. She wasn't adjusting like she thought she would. Instead, she was feeling more and more unsettled as the days went by. She had needed to escape, and in the past the quiet inside a church building had served as her haven. Maybe here, today, she could find that tranquility again.

“Welcome to Chestnut Hill Community Church!”

JJ smiled, but not nearly as brightly as the greeter, a large woman old enough to be her mother. She took the offered hand and was shocked when the woman pulled her into a gentle hug that was, surprisingly, not as intrusive as she thought it might be.

“Glad you could make it,” the woman said when she let go.

There is was. That serene atmosphere. “Thank you,” JJ murmured.

The woman nodded, then turned to the person behind JJ and offered a similarly genuine greeting. JJ chuckled to herself and slipped inside the sanctuary.

The church was narrow and welcoming with its two aisles of padded pews and well-worn carpeted floors. She sighed and felt her muscles relax as she sank into the deep cushions of her seat. Light piano trickled through the sanctuary, bringing the buzz of voices and movement down to a hum. JJ closed her eyes and let the music flow over her, let the chords imprint on her heart, let them stir up further the feeling of longing and nostalgia that was gently swirling inside her.

JJ missed this. The opportunity to sing without rules or expectations. The freedom and the openness to be who she was in a place where she would not be judged. The serenity she experienced when she was able to leave the world behind. She used to be able to experience that on her own, in her own time with God. But that had seemed so difficult of late.

 

JJ didn't want it to be over, but when the minister finished the message, she knew it was time to go. Slipping out of her pew, she made her way down a side aisle, hoping to beat the crowd out the door and avoid any awkward visitor moments. But the voice with the microphone stopped her.

JJ turned around slowly from the back of the church and stared. She watched as the woman's honey-colored fingers moved skillfully over the acoustic guitar as she sang the song, “Open My Eyes,” a song JJ had loved to play when she first learned guitar. When Christ's love had first become real in her heart. It seemed like such a long time ago, but that song brought back the memories. The feeling of nostalgia was almost overwhelming, like a throbbing ache without the pain. And now, she couldn't just walk away without knowing if it was the singer or just the song.

She waited in the back row until the crowd had mostly dispersed, then she walked through the remaining stragglers to the front. The woman's blond-streaked auburn hair hung in straight long layers over her slim shoulders as she secured her guitar in the case. When she finally stood, she came face-to-face with JJ.

“Hi!” she said, offering a bright smile. “Are you a visitor?”

JJ nodded. “I am.”

“I thought I saw you somewhere near the middle,” the woman continued, offering a hand to go with her smile. “I'm—”

“Cymmone Slater,” JJ finished. “I know who you are.”

“And you're part of Deacon Hill's new female band,” Cymmone said with a knowing smile. “I knew there was something familiar about you when I saw you in the congregation.”

JJ's eyebrows shot up. “How did you . . .”

“The posters,” Cymmone said. “They're everywhere. Plus you guys were on the front page of a tabloid in the supermarket, and the line at the cashier was kind of long, so . . .”

JJ laughed. “Wow, this is new for me. But I bet you must be used to it by now.”

The woman gave a little laugh. “Not so much. I still get surprised when people recognize me. Especially after so long.”

“Three years is not that long,” JJ said. “Especially when you're an
American Icon
winner.”

Cymmone shrugged. “I guess.”

JJ noticed a faraway look in the woman's eyes, followed by a grimace that she quickly shook off.

“Anyway, that was a long time ago,” Cymmone said, her smile returning quickly.

It was also clearly a time she wasn't eager to talk about. JJ could only imagine why.

“I just came up here to see if it was really you,” JJ said before the awkward moment could get any more awkward. “And to say I really enjoyed your song. I didn't even know you were a Christian.”

“A lot of people don't,” Cymmone said. “For awhile, I forgot myself.”

Second awkward moment. JJ wasn't sure what to say to that, and so she said good-bye instead and headed back toward the exit.

“Hey, wait!”

She turned around to find Cymmone walking toward her.

“Would you like to stay for lunch? We have lots of food and everyone here is friendly. I promise not to bring up your singing if you promise not to bring up mine.”

JJ smiled in spite of herself. No matter where she went, there were some things about church life that never changed.

“Thanks, but I can't,” JJ said. “I have to get back to my hotel and prepare for the show later. I was just about to call a cab to take me back to the Crowne Plaza.”

“No need,” Cymmone said, already pulling keys out of her purse. “I'll give you a ride.”

“You don't have to—”

“I know. But I want to,” Cymmone said. “I'll get my car. Meet me out front.”

Before JJ could protest, Cymmone had disappeared through a side door and out to where JJ guessed her car was parked on the side of the road. JJ walked out to the front of the church, wondering if there was any way out. She hadn't seen any taxis on her way in, and even if she called one right now, Cymmone would get there before it did. She didn't really know this woman—well, that wasn't entirely true. All of North America, and many beyond, knew Cymmone Slater. She was a winner of
American Icon
, the annual talent show scouting singers from across the USA. She had sung to the world on live television for thirteen weeks, beating out several others for the top spot, which included a recording contract with Dynamite Music Group (DMG) and an opening spot on a DMG major artists' tour. But the contest had just been the beginning. She had blown up the music scene, recording duets with several major artists, doing commercials for Pepsi and MAC Cosmetics and dating celebrities right, left, and center, from NFL players to actors. And then, just as fast as she had risen to pop culture's forefront, she had fallen off the radar. Disappeared.

JJ was still scouring her mind for the last time she had seen anything in the media about Cymmone, when a white Ford Expedition pulled up to the curb. One of the heavily tinted windows rolled down.

“Come on, let's go!”

JJ sighed. The day had been strange enough. Why not?

“Excuse the toys and snacks,” Cymmone said, tossing a stuffed animal into the back, where JJ caught sight of a car seat. “This is the mommy-mobile.”

“You have children?” JJ asked, pulling the front passenger door closed behind her and slipping on her seat belt.

“Three little ones,” Cymmone said, beaming. “Two boys and a darling baby girl.”

JJ shook her head. “Wow. Is that why you dropped off the music scene?”

Cymmone sighed and JJ caught the grimace again. “Yes and no.”

It was obvious to JJ that this wasn't the easiest or the most pleasant conversation for Cymmone. Maybe she should just leave this alone.

“So you sing for Deacon Hill?” Cymmone asked.

Guess Cymmone had decided to leave it alone also.

JJ settled back for the ride. “Yeah,” she said. “It's fairly recent though. Before that, I wasn't much more than your local small-event singer. Girl-with-a-dream kind of thing.”

“So this is your big break,” Cymmone said.

JJ looked out the window. “You could say so.”

Silence hung between them for a spare moment before Cymmone broke it.

“So I'm just gonna tell you this because I have a feeling I know where you are, and because I know that God didn't accidentally put you in my mother's church the one morning I happened to be there too.” Cymmone sighed. “You asked me why I dropped off the music scene. I tell most people it was because of my family, and that's the truth. But it was mostly because of my husband. I dreamed of being in this business since I was a little girl. I ate, slept, and breathed music growing up. I sung in every choir in church and at school. I started going to auditions when I was eighteen, and I qualified for
American Icon
when I was twenty-four, the last year I would have been eligible. I knew I could sing. People had been telling me all my life. But I was still shocked when I stood on that stage and America voted me the winner. And then everything got crazy. Things started moving so fast. They moved me out of Atlanta to LA. Set me up with producers, songwriters, managers, vocal coaches, image consultants, the whole celebrity machine. I loved it. It was exactly what I wanted. Until I realized that it was changing me. I was singing songs I didn't believe in, wearing clothes that a year earlier I wouldn't be caught dead in, and going places where I would never have gone on my own. And the worst part was, I was totally okay with it because everyone around me was doing it, and because I had no compass to direct me. No one to pull me back to center—to help me check myself.”

“What about your family?” JJ asked.

“What about them?” Cymmone asked dryly, glancing at JJ. “I was on the road all the time. There were times I would be living out of hotels for months, going weeks without even talking to my family. And my spiritual life? Well, that was nonexistent. There's no time for church when you're spending ten hours a day rehearsing and the other ten traveling or in meetings. No time for devotions. No time for reflections on who you are becoming.”

Cymmone let out a deep breath. “And then I met Brady.”

JJ noticed the smile on her face when she talked about the man JJ suspected was her husband.

“He got into my life and refused to go,” she continued, the smile still steady on her lips. “He would call me almost every day, even if it was just to say hey; send things that reminded me of home to my various hotels to keep me from getting too homesick. There were times when he would drive for hours, or fly across the country just to spend an hour with me.”

“After we got married he told me he knew God had made us for each other from the first moment he met me. Can you believe that?”

“I don't know,” JJ teased. “Sounds a little creepy to me.”

Cymmone laughed. “Yeah, I told him that too. But the thing is, he never pushed me. Never forced me to settle down. Never asked me to change my life for him. He was just there, accepting me and all my baggage with his love, and his compassion, and his faith. That man had a faith that never gave up. And he used to pray me out of some situations. I think that was what made me realize what was missing. I was going from day to day, stage to stage, performance to performance, giving my everything every time, but I was empty. And it was only when I saw Brady that I realized what was missing—my connection with my first love, my God.”

“So is that why you quit?”

Cymmone rolled her eyes. “I didn't quit. I just prioritized, which meant scaling back on the music side of things. It's not that I don't love singing—I do. But I couldn't give my everything to my career and give my life to God at the same time. I tried, JJ, I promise you I tried. But this industry . . .” She shook her head. “It's all or nothing if you want to be at the top. And I could have given my all, but I would have lost myself. Maybe there are people who can do it. Maybe you're one of those people who can put everything out there, be in the middle of it every day without compromising who you are, without losing that connection. But I couldn't. And when Brady asked me to marry him, I knew I couldn't be with him and continue the way things were. Not because he would ask me to change—he never did. But because I couldn't love him the way he deserved to be loved and continue the way I was going. I wasn't even loving my family the way I should. I had to make a change.”