Chapter 8
Drive By
Somehow, the car made it all the way to his uncle’s driveway before the dash lights started blinking like a Clark family Christmas display and shut down. Daniel opens my door and walks me over to meet everyone as his uncles and aunt come out to the covered porch to greet us.
Aunt Judy is his late grandfather’s youngest sister—his dad’s aunt. I’ve heard him mention her before, and I know they’re close.
She meets us with a sweet, confident smile, and her fabulous red hair bounces in curls at her shoulders.
I get the sense that these men respect her like the queen she is.
I like her instantly. Her husband, Dale, is a big man with a white Santa beard.
He practically tackles us walking up the driveway.
We’re immediately smooshed together in a greeting that would rival one of Sam’s bone-crushing hugs.
“Boy, why haven’t you ever brought your pretty girl around here before? How long you been hidin’ this little princess?” Dale’s gruff voice is playful, but the line of questioning is a little awkward.
Daniel steps back with his fingers still casually hooked between mine.
“Hey, Uncle Dale, this is Lucy. Unfortunately, the princess isn’t mine.
I had to bribe her with an alternator and battery to get her out here.
” He shrugs, correcting his uncle’s assumption with humor.
“And this is my Uncle Pete. He’s Dale’s brother …
so technically we aren’t related at all. You know how it is.”
I do know how it is. Everyone's an aunt or uncle. Related or not.
A scraggly man in overalls ambles up behind Uncle Dale and blurts, “What kind of nonsense are you spoutin’?”
Uncle Pete looks and sounds like he came directly from an episode of Duck Dynasty and pins Daniel with conspicuous skepticism.
“How’d you get a pretty lady to come way out here with you and hold your hand if she’s not yours?
Do you need me to teach you some skills?
” He turns his attention to me. “Does he smell bad or not treat ya good, Miss Lucy in the Sky?”
I self-consciously let go of Daniel’s hand, but Uncle Pete wins me over with the Beatles reference.
I respond with a nervous laugh. “No, sir, he’s pretty perfect, but we’re just friends.”
“He’s perfect and you’re just friends?” Dale repeats, sounding suspicious.
“Uncle Dale, she’s engaged. I haven’t been able to talk her out of it.” I wince at his words.
Dale starts laughing like that’s ridiculous. “Princess, are you married?” he asks me.
Assuming I’m now a princess, I answer, “No, sir.”
“Then she’s single, boy. Handle your business,” Pete chimes back in.
“That’s enough, you two!” Aunt Judy scolds the brothers for their harassment.
“Lucy, give Dale your keys, and you and JD come inside and have some lunch. We’ll get these ornery men busy on your car. Maybe they’ll mind their business and stay out of trouble,” she says protectively.
“Ain’t likely we can stay outta trouble too long, Judy,” Pete hollers back as we step inside the cool house and Aunt Judy shoos the men off to work.
“Boy, come here and let me hug you on your birthday! I’m so glad you both came!” she says.
We follow the sweet lady, and I wonder if I heard her right. Did she call Daniel JD? Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe she said DC—as in Daniel Crawford, like we all do. This day’s been a lot to take in, so I let it go. It’ll come up again if it matters.
I know I shouldn’t, given all the talk and tension today, but I can’t help staying glued to Daniel’s side.
I’m not what you would call painfully shy, but it takes me a minute to get comfortable with new people, especially more than one.
And all the hugging and immediate interrogation of why we aren’t a couple is a lot.
It seems to be the topic of the day, and I can’t get away from it.
I need time to think this over.
But Aunt Judy’s ready to spoil us. She sits trays of little roll sandwiches, fruit, and cookies out on the table and offers us iced tea.
We add to our plates, and she asks us questions about how we met, my classes, and which building I live in.
She asks about my family, and I tell her we’ve lived all over, but they’re in Cookeville now.
“Are they singers like you?” she asks.
“Ma’am?” I answer in confusion.
“Our boy says you’re a fabulous singer and you have a good ear. I just wondered if your family sang together.” She smiles at me sweetly.
I look over at Daniel, who makes a face and looks away like he heard nothing.
“Really? Well, that’s sweet. I love music, and I love to sing, but I wouldn’t call myself a singer. I don’t perform or anything. Not since high school choir.”
“She will for me,” Daniel announces confidently. “She promised she would sing with me for my birthday, and I know which songs she can’t refuse.”
He knows a few things I can’t refuse, and it’s getting out of hand.
Aunt Judy’s face lights up. “Isn’t that just how it is, Lucy? Some songs are so enchanting.”
How can I not love a woman who uses the word enchanting? I want her to adopt me.
“Yes, ma’am, that’s exactly the word for it. I’m addicted.”
“She’s not lying.” Daniel grins, subtly leaning into me. “I had to take away her ’80s hair metal or neither of us would’ve made it here.”
Aunt Judy nods and smiles politely, probably not quite sure what he meant by that, but I know.
“Oh, I know someone who wanted to play more Motley Crüe than Chopin during his lessons. He played ‘Home Sweet Home’ until I heard it in my sleep!” Aunt Judy beams at the memory.
My eyes dart to Daniel. “You played ‘Home Sweet Home’ during lessons?” I cannot contain myself. This is the best thing I’ve heard all day. Aunt Judy knows Motley Crüe.
“Oh, didn’t you know, sweetheart? I’ve taught music for forty-five years. Our boy sat in my music room nearly every day after school. We had a deal that he could choose his own song to master every time he learned one that I chose. He’s quite talented. Shall we make him perform for us?”
“Make me?” Daniel playfully scoffs. “I’m not a dancing monkey.”
“Absolutely, yes!” I nearly squeal.
We’re always singing, and all the guys are excellent guitarists, but I love DC on bass. I’ve seen him play keys and drums too, though not as much. Not enough to tell how proficient he might be, but he’s good at everything, so I should’ve known he had years of training.
We toss our paper plates into the trash, and I ask if I should take plates out to Uncle Dale and Uncle Pete, but she assures me they ate before we got there so they’d be ready to work.
Following her out of the kitchen, we step into a large den with a baby grand piano, keyboards, several guitars, an electric bass, violins, and a drum set, along with chairs and a sofa on one end.
My eyes grow wide. I had no idea what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t all this. Daniel leads me to a stool next to the baby grand and pulls one over for Aunt Judy as well. He’s as excited as I am. We’re so much alike in this way, but I don’t have even a hint of his talent or training.
I was in choirs all through elementary school.
The more serious ones in middle and high school got me a few years of basic sight-reading, voice lessons, and some competitions, but I only know a few chords on the guitar without a chart.
My skill level is best suited for the living room or fall bonfire kind of situations—definitely not for public viewing. I wouldn’t even call myself a musician.
He runs his fingers over a few keys, and I know right away what he’s playing. He hands Aunt Judy a violin. “Play this with me. Lucy loves it.”
Violin? Huh, that never occurred to me. Aunt Judy checks her tuning, and I see she knew the song in two notes as well.
Daniel grins and plays the opening notes of “Faithfully,” and Aunt Judy joins him. When he begins to sing, my heart wants to climb out of my chest. This man is playing a rock power ballad with his great aunt. If it gets any sweeter, I’ll be leaving this place with cavities.
I love his voice. There’s a lazy rasp in his baritone that adds emotion to everything he sings. I hum along a bit but don’t sing yet. They finish, and he goes right into a quirky old Christian rock song from the ’70s.
He probably thinks I don’t know it, but what I lack in talent, I make up for in geek-level knowledge of classic rock.
When I jump in and sing with him, he gives a loud, “Wooooooo!”
Aunt Judy claps, smiling ear to ear. He laughs when we finish, leaning over to side-squeeze me. “I don’t know how you know that song, but I’m somehow not surprised.”
“My friends in Kentucky used to tell me stories about Larry Norman when I worked at the radio station,” I admit. “We sang that song all the time.”
“Ohhh …” Understanding lights his eyes. “You worked in radio. That explains so much.”
“I was an intern at a classic rock station in high school. The deejays played in local Christian bands, and they loved the older stuff, so they got me into it too. And you know how I feel about my hair metal.” I grin.
“I do,” he says with a smirk.
“Let’s sing something together! What do you like, Aunt Judy?” I’m buzzing with energy and hope she doesn’t mind me calling her Aunt Judy.
“Oh, I’ll sing along to anything, but I want to hear you together. Have you heard of the Everly Brothers? Jude, do you remember the one I like? I think you two will sound lovely on that one. I have a good ear for these things, you know.”
She grins, moving to an electric keyboard where she plays a bit of the intro. Daniel gives me a sheepish smile, which is an adorable change from his usual confidence. He looks at me and says, “Do you know ‘All I Have To Do Is Dream’?”
Did she just call him Jude? Is that a nickname? I feel like I’m missing something.
“I do,” I tell them, but I’m still hung up on Jude. “It was my grandmother’s favorite. I’ll have to pull up the lyrics on my phone. I don’t remember all the words.”