Strings

Chapter 15 - Covid #4

Robby got her 10 a.m response as he checked his phone, coming in with the boys from the yard.

It occurred to him he never spoken to Grace on the phone, but that was all he had time to think before the doorbell rang.

It was Bella, masked, her arms full — a crockpot with a shopping bag hanging from her elbow.

Robby put his hand up to stop her from taking another step, pulled a mask out of his pocket, and yelled to the boys they couldn’t see what Aunt Bella had brought unless they masked up.

“What’s the latest?” Bella sailed past Robby heading for the kitchen.

They talked as she put the cold food in the refrigerator and plugged the crockpot in on the counter.

Each item was labeled in her neat handwriting.

Robby had called her Bossy Bella when he was younger and still thought of her that way.

He filled her in on the last report from Russell.

She said she’d try to stay till he got home, in case he had news.

She told him about the schedule in the works between Russell’s family and theirs to take care of the boys everyday if necessary, and overnights too, starting tomorrow.

Robby could drop them off at her house around 8:30 tomorrow morning.

She was working from home but had help for her own kids.

Robby was grateful and said so. He told her he knew Russell would want them most nights and over the weekend.

Robby knew what was coming next. He was hoping the boys would run in now, but no luck.

“So Little Brother, tell me more about your Southern belle. I hear you’re still seeing her.

I’m glad I got to meet her — wasn’t what I was expecting, and Marie didn’t dislike her — a plus, coming from Marie — but she said the verdict is still out.

” Bella looked him directly in the eye as if sizing up the subject of a deposition.

Robby inhaled and straightened. “What do you want to know?” He wasn’t going to volunteer anything to Bella. Talking to her was like talking to the police.

“I want to know why you’re still interested. Why are you making an effort? Just boredom?” She leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms.

Where were those boys when he needed them?

He felt eight years old himself, but there was no escape.

He took a deep breath and looked directly at his sister.

“She’s the first woman I’ve been with who I’m sure doesn’t care who I am.

Who’s with me because she likes me for me, not because of the band.

It’s different. I’m intrigued. I admit, I care for her — it’s more than sex.

” He stopped himself from saying anything more, remembering whom he was talking to.

“Okay.” Bella raised her eyebrows. “Sounds honest. What happens when she goes back to South Carolina?”

Robby was not expecting that question, but he knew better than to break eye contact with Bella. “She has no plans to go back that I’m aware of.” The front door opened. Russell was home. Thank God.

Bella smiled. “Saved for now.” She glided past him.

He heard her say, “Russell,” then Russell saying something muffled.

They must be hugging. He would give them a minute, but he wanted the latest on Marie too.

Russell and Bella had gone to school together, and he’d met Marie through Bella.

They were close. He looked at the food — pot roast with onions, carrots, and potatoes and dinner rolls with heating instructions — turned on the oven — and a note about a salad kit in the refrigerator that just needed tossing in a bowl. Rice Krispies Treats for dessert.

“Russell, have you talked to the hospital?” Robby walked into the living area.

“Hi, Robby. Yes, just before I came in. The good news is she’s no worse.

Doesn’t need a ventilator. Bad news is I didn’t get to talk to her, but it was because she was sleeping.

I’m going to call back between 10:00 and 10:30, before they start the shift change.

I may get to talk to her. Where’re the boys? ” Russell said, looking around.

“I don’t know. I mean, I was in the kitchen with Bella — they’re in the house somewhere.

I’ll go find them. You guys finish your visit.

” Robby turned and went down the hall to the boys’ bedroom.

They weren’t there. Then he heard his guitar.

It didn’t sound broken . . . yet. He lengthened his stride to the guest room where he slept.

They were on the floor with the guitar between them.

Danny was strumming, while Guy was pressing his fingers on random frets up and down the neck.

Robby smiled. “Let me help.” He sat down with them.

*******

The phone rang at 10 a.m. in the lodge. Kirsten picked it up, Grace standing next to her, having told her Robby might call.

“Good morning. Getaway Lodge. Kirsten speaking . . . Hi, Robby . . . Fine, thanks . . . It was fun . . . Thank you . . . Good. I’d like that, too .

. . Yes, she’s right here.” She handed the phone to Grace and stepped away.

“Hi . . . Good to hear yours too . . . Let me go around the corner . . . How is she? . . . Well that’s better than it could be. How are you? . . . I can do that . . . Yes, I’m sure. When? . . . I’ll be ready . . . Me too. Robby? . . . Take good care . . . Bye.”

Robby put the phone down. He was alone in his house on the red sofa.

He leaned back. He’d dropped off Guy and Danny at Bella’s about 8:30 a.m. and told her, “You’ve got my number.

You can call or text me anytime, but don’t show it to anyone else.

” Bella had smiled. Robby had not. “I’ll be at my house, but in the basement playing.

I’ll have the phone turned up and on vibrate. ”

He had no immediate thoughts of the boys hanging over him.

Hard to believe it was Wednesday, Marie had only been in the hospital since Monday night.

Even now — knowing they were in capable care — awareness of the boys’ existence was in his head where it hadn’t been before. How much more so for actual parents?

Grace. He smiled. This time Friday morning, if Marie stayed stable, he’d be with Grace, coming here.

She hadn’t hesitated, which was a relief, but he wasn’t going to spend time now planning — too much could happen before then.

For now, he’d make coffee, make that call to his manager, then go downstairs.

He’d pick up the boys about 4:00. That was all the planning he felt safe with .

. . wow, he sounded like Grace. He’d tell her he had a better understanding now.

He had Joe’s cell phone number. He didn’t bother calling his office. If Joe didn’t answer, they’d play phone tag till they connected.

“Hi, Robby. Really sorry about the show. We all tried.”

“Yeah, I know. It is what it is. How’re things out there?”

“Same as everywhere, I guess. Cases going up. Life at a standstill. How’s life in the Northwoods?

” Joe chuckled and shook his head in wonder at what kept his hit songwriter-guitar player going back to the wilds of northern Minnesota, but he’d known the first time he met him, Robby Song was different.

It was after a packed show somewhere in Texas .

. . Dallas. In the Green Room. Everyone was celebrating.

He’d spotted Robby right off. His height and the braid.

Joe’d wanted to meet the singer-songwriter, talk about his process, how many songs he had, who did the arrangements.

That was what set this band apart, the songs and how this guy connected with his audience when he sang, like a doctor who made you feel he had no one else to see that day.

Even back then, Joe could see the business was changing.

He knew there were no sure bets. It was going to take something special to hook him anymore.

He’d been hearing good things about this group and Robby Song for a while now.

They’d never met, and Joe hadn’t broadcast he was coming, but Robby looked his way, leaned down, and said something in the ear of the sexy, dark-haired girl standing in front of him.

Then he’d walked over, extending his hand as he got close.

They introduced themselves, but as soon as Joe started to talk shop, Robby stopped him.

He said he wanted the rest of the band there, that they were all in this together.

He made eye contact with the bass player, nodded toward Joe, and the bass player got the others.

And that’s how it’d always been. The band.

Not a star and orbiting planets; a constellation.

“Not bad except my sister’s in ICU with Covid.”

“Oh man, Robby. I’m really sorry to hear that. Is she on a ventilator? I hear that’s not a good sign.”

“Not yet. She was admitted Monday night. And you know, I guess, no visitors. It’s tough, especially on my brother-in-law. I’m helping him with their boys, so he can work.”

“Is this the tall, good looking one that came to LA? She’s a nurse, right?”

“Yes. Marie. We’re close. It’s moment to moment. Everything else has taken a backseat.”

“Damn, Robby. I hate hearing this. Keep me in the loop.”

“I will, thanks.”

“Hey, if you get a chance, I wish you’d talk to Seth. He always drives me crazy, but now he’s got fewer options. I’m worried about what insane thing he’s gonna do next.”

Robby sat back. He could imagine. Seth was a great rhythm guitar player for him, and sometimes a great songwriter, but high maintenance.

On the road, he was either playing guitar or playing with someone, the stranger the better.

He craved constant activity, wild and risky, and appeared to need no downtime.

“The best I can do is send him a couple new songs and ask him to work on his parts. Where’s he now?

Last time I talked to him, he was with a girl in Miami. ”

“Yeah, the walking tattoo . . . and her husband. Well, he left her . . . them. Since then, he’s blown through two more, visited his folks, and now he’s in Austin.

It’s only a matter of time before he catches this thing.

He thinks he’s immune because he’s taking that horse wormer. ” Joe let out an audible sigh.

Robby laughed. “I know it’s not funny, and I sure hope he doesn’t get sick, but none of that is any surprise. He’ll probably do the best of all of us and come out saying, ‘Why were you guys so worried?’ He laughed again. “So, how’s everybody else?”

“Everybody seems fine. Mostly — so far — glad for the time off. What about you? John said you picked up a girl in an airport going home after the last show? How many since then? You blow through them pretty fast yourself.” Joe laughed.

“That’s not exactly what happened, but no more since then.”

“Yeah, I guess ‘Babes in the Woods’ is just a song. You may need to relocate. I don’t want my star guitar player lonely.

” Joe chuckled. “Seriously. I understand if you want to stay close to Marie right now, but when you’re ready for some excitement, I’ll do my best. Maybe Montreal?

Weren’t you into some French chick when we played there in April?

I could look into that, or someplace else? ”

“No, I’m fine. Helping with Marie’s boys and writing are keeping me occupied. And I’m not lonely.”

“Oh, right, the Casino brings in people . . . but wait, you can’t hang out in a casino, and isn’t that closed for the time being? Or can reservations set their own rules?”

“I’ve been known to hang out in a few casinos, but, yes, it’s closed.”

“So, who’s keeping you company?” There was a pause. “Not the same chick from the airport . . .”

Robby hesitated. Joe didn’t have a big mouth, but . . .

“It is . . . isn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

“Wow. This has got to be a record of a different sort for Robby Song.”

“It’s different.”

“Well, this kind of blows me away, but whatever works. I can tell you don’t want to talk about it . . . Okay, then.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

“Alright. Keep in touch, especially about Marie. ‘Talk soon. Oh, and keep writing . . . Gulls will need an album tour when this is over. Maybe I can interest Seth in that . . .” his voice trailed off.

“I’ll mention that to him too. Talk soon.”

“Sure thing. Bye now.”

Again, he leaned back into the sofa. He was still enjoying playing and writing.

At times, as he’d told Grace, he missed performing acutely, but the idea of a tour — a year or more on the road — he didn’t even want to think about that now.

And, luckily, he didn’t have to — it wasn’t an option anytime soon.

But he’d get the songs to Seth and mention that between them, they’d have to come up with about ten more before they could get back on the road.

With that in mind, he went downstairs. He knew Russell would call at some point with another update.

The best would be if he’d been able to talk with Marie.