Page 23 of Beneath a Tennessee Sky

Chapter Eight

Jack

––––––––

AGGIE IS SITTING AT the kitchen table, drinking her coffee when I walk in the door.

“So, you’re really going,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“Is Jinnie doing okay?”

I nod. “I think so. We’re both sad but I know I’m going to see her again. I’ll get established in Memphis and have her come for a visit.”

“I think I understand why she’s sad,” Aggie says softly. “You two...your romance was fast and furious. That kind of thing burns hot, and I don’t think it was anywhere near burning out. You’re leaving right at the beginning of something really amazing.”

“It’s not like I’m dying, Aggie. It’s just Memphis.”

She turns then, finally meeting my eyes. “You think you’ll be back?”

The question hangs between us. We both know the answer.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “This deal—it’s everything I’ve been working for.”

She nods. “I know. And I’m thrilled for you. I know you don’t have any reason to come back here, but you always have a place here, Jack. Even if it’s to get away from the spotlight, you can come here and hide. I know you want the fame and fortune, but I think there are a few people who might tell you it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I’m not trying to discourage you, but I want you to go into this with your eyes wide open.”

“I’m not naïve, Aggie.” I try to keep the defensiveness out of my voice.

“I know you’re not.” She smiles, but there’s something sad in her eyes. “I just want you to remember that success isn’t always what we think it’ll be.”

I grab a mug from the cabinet and pour myself some coffee, even though I don’t need the caffeine. My nerves are already firing on all cylinders with the anticipation of what’s ahead.

“You sound like my mom,” I say, then immediately wish I hadn’t. The memory of her still hits like a punch to the gut sometimes.

Aggie doesn’t seem offended. “Your mom was a wise woman.”

“Yeah.” I stare into my coffee. “She would’ve been proud, I think.”

“Oh, Jack, she would’ve been over the moon. But she also would’ve told you not to lose yourself in the process.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

“Have you told your dad yet?” she asks.

“No, he doesn’t care.” I shrug like it doesn’t matter, but we both know it does.

“He might surprise you.”

“Doubt it.” I take a sip of coffee. “He made it pretty clear what he thinks about my pipe dreams.”

Aggie sighs. “You know, Jack, sometimes parents don’t know how to show they care. Your dad might not understand your dreams, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you.”

I roll my eyes. “You didn’t hear what he said when I told him I wanted to play music for a living.”

“No, I didn’t,” she admits. “But I know loss changes people. You said your dad’s been a different since your mother passed away. Maybe he’s crapping all over your dreams because he doesn’t want you to leave.”

She makes a good point. I’ve been so focused on my own grief, my own dreams, that sometimes I forget Dad was left alone with three sons to raise.