Chapter 3 #2
But Blue had been writing songs for as long as he could remember.
Well, in reality, he’d been writing poetry.
A teacher had suggested it to him years before to help him get his feelings out and deal with them, and he’d been writing ever since.
He had boxes full of scraps of paper with little phrases written on them, or pages with random poems written with whatever writing instrument he had at the moment.
The song he’d worked on for the last six months was called “What I’d Do For Her,” and the guys had told him that, between the song and his voice, it made them think of KeithUrban.
Blue wasn’t sure about that―he hadn’t listened to much of Urban’s music―but the song was good, sweet and bluesy with just enough passion to pack a punch.
He knew that much. When Devon turned to him and asked if he wanted to do it, Blue nodded.
They’d practiced it three or four times, and the changes were easy to follow, so they wouldn’t have any trouble.
Devon started it, and Blue was surprised to see that he’d obviously been practicing a little riff specifically for the song. It was impressive, to say the least, and Blue decided to give it all he had. The riff cascaded downward and ended, and Blue leaned into the microphone.
If she asked me to,
I’d pull the stars from the sky,
Build a castle treetop high,
Write her name in the sand.
If she asked me to,
I’d give her the moon,
Make every month June,
Stop the river with my bare hands.
And what I’d do for her
Is everything,
Everything,
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.
And what I’d do for her
Is everything,
Everything,
There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.
Blue hit the second verse and let loose.
As he sang, he could feel all the tension from the day slipping away, just dissolving, and he forged ahead like his life depended on it.
When the last note faded away, what had been a tired, mostly drunk bar full of people were suddenly whistling, cheering, and clapping.
He felt like he was waking from a dream, and he heard Devon say, “Shit, Blue, you nailed it! That was incredible!”
Blue was stunned. “Thanks, man.”
Gary leaned over and slapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry I gave you so much shit earlier. I feel like a real ass.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Blue slipped the strap of his bass over his head and grabbed his case. “We’re good.”
“Yeah, well, that wasn’t cool of me, and I’m sorry. If I can help you, you know where to find me,” the blue-eyed blond with the gray goatee and gray streaks in his hair told Blue.
“Thanks.” He picked up the guitar case and called out, “Night, Byron.”
“Hey, Blue, great job on that song! That was really something. Have a good Sunday,” Byron called back.
“Will do. Night.” Blue stepped out of the club to find little clusters of people all over the parking lot, talking and laughing, and as he’d pass a group, someone would tell him how much they enjoyed the song or what a good job he’d done on it.
Every group he passed made some positive comment, and Blue felt pretty good when he slipped behind the wheel of his old truck.
He cranked it up and headed for the house. As he drove, he thought about the song, about the words and the tune, how well they went together, and what kind of song he might want to work on next.
Anne’s house was dark when he pulled up in his driveway, so he shut off the engine and walked across the yards to her door. Fumbling for the key, he almost had it out and in the lock when the door opened and a voice whispered, “Blue?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” Anne opened the door and he stepped into the house as quietly as he could.
He’d been wrong. The house wasn’t dark―she just had darkening drapes up so the light couldn’t be seen from outside, and he realized that was probably because she tried to sleep during the day when the kids were in school.
Even so, the lamplight was low, and it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. As he looked around, he was impressed.
The place was spotless, the furnishings nice without being too overpowering, and the décor was subtle and homey.
Everything about the living room screamed family , from the pictures on the walls to the throw on the back of the sofa. Glancing around, he finally saw her.
Indigo was sleeping peacefully in her little basket as it sat there in front of the sofa, her tiny lips pursed into a bow and her hands knotted into teeny tiny baby fists. “Did she give you any trouble?” Blue asked.
“No. She’s a good baby.”
Blue smiled. “That’s what Polly said.”
“She told me you called.” Anne’s brows knit. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah―oh, yeah. Everything’s fine. I was just making sure she wasn’t giving you too much trouble,” Blue whispered.
“Well, she stole my car and I had to call the cops, and that was right after she took all the money out of my purse and ran off with it,” Anne quipped.
“Oh, hahaha,” Blue said, scowling.
“Yeah, she was terrible. Going to grow up a social degenerate, I can tell right now,” Anne said, chuckling. “And I found this.” She held up a denim tote bag. “I know it’s not a diaper bag, but you can put her things in here. Beats a shopping bag.”
“Thanks. I’ll pay you for it,” Blue offered.
“Nonsense. I got it free somewhere, so if you can use it, at least it’s not hanging in my closet anymore. All her stuff’s in it, so it’s ready to go.” She handed him the bag and pressed a key into his palm.
Blue was still amazed at how kind she was to him. He sure hadn’t given her reason to be. “That’s really nice of you. Thanks.” He shouldered the bag and headed toward the little basket. “Guess I should take her on home now so you can get some sleep.”
“Okay. And thanks for letting me keep her for you,” Anne tacked on.
Now Blue was completely confused. She was thanking him for letting her keep the baby?
That wasn’t something he’d expected at all.
“Well, thank you for keeping her.” He picked up the basket and headed for the door, and Anne ran ahead to open it for him.
“Goodnight. I’ll call or come and get you tomorrow if I need you,” he said, wondering what she’d say.
“Yes, please. Oh, and I’ll have a surprise for you late tomorrow afternoon, I think,” she added, grinning.
“Is this a good surprise?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Yes. It’s a great surprise. Just wait. You’ll see.”
Now Blue was really worried. What was she planning?
“Well, okay then. See you tomorrow,” he said and headed out across the yards.
He set the basket on the porch while he unlocked the door, then carried it in, put it on the sofa, and went back to close the door.
As he turned back to the room, he heard a sound.
Looking down into the basket, he found Indigo staring up at him and waving one arm.
Her little eyes were bright and her cheeks were rosy.
Blue was dog tired, but he didn’t want to leave her in there alone, so he carried the basket to the bedroom and set it on the bed.
The baby cooed and mumbled a little, and he talked to her as he undressed for bed.
He usually slept naked, but he decided maybe he’d better stop doing that.
And just as he thought he was about to get to bed, she started to fuss.
He checked and, sure enough, she was wet, so he got a diaper, the wipes, and the powder, and proceeded to try to change her diaper.
It quickly became clear that it wasn’t as easy as Anne and Polly had made it look.
He got the original one off, then remembered what Polly had said about leaving the old diaper under the baby until you got them cleaned up or they might pee wherever they happened to be.
Grabbing a wipe, he wiped down her whole diaper area, then looked down at her.
“Listen, baby, I’ve got to clean everything.
That’s what Polly said. I’m not doing anything bad to you, just trying to get you clean, okay?
God, this is awkward,” he mumbled under his breath as he spread her little nether regions apart and started cleaning between them.
“Well, this is weird,” he told her as he cleaned, but in only a few seconds he was finished and fairly certain he’d done an okay job.
He put the fresh diaper under her, sprinkled some powder on her, and tried to fasten the diaper, but it just wasn’t cooperating.
It took about ten tries, but he finally got it on in a way that he was pretty sure would stay put.
“There. You’re not wet anymore,” he announced, and she gave him that funny half-grin he’d seen earlier.
It was followed by that sound he’d heard earlier. “Watch out. Keep that up and you’ll blow a hole in that diaper,” he told her with a grin.
In response, she kicked her legs and made a sound that sounded like, “A-heh.”
“Are you hungry?” He hadn’t asked Anne when she’d last been fed, so he warmed a bottle just like Anne had taught him to and sat down on the bed, then picked up the baby carefully and held her in one arm, using the other hand to feed her.