Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

I ran all the way back to town and went straight to Moonshine Maybelle’s , but there was no sign of Lovesong at the piano.

“He headed to his room early,” Leroy told me when he saw me scanning the bar. “Said there were some adjustments he wanted to make to his guitar.”

In the manor, I took the elevator upstairs and opened the door to our room.

There I found Lovesong sitting on his bed with Chet by his side. On Lovesong’s lap was his electric guitar, the strings unraveled and the tuning pegs unscrewed. Beside Chet I saw an open toolbox with screws, putty and a drill on the bed, as well as an extra tuning peg that looked like it belonged on his acoustic guitar.

It dawned on me what he was doing.

He was adding a seventh string to his guitar.

“Noah? Why are you back so soon? Ain’t y’all supposed to be having supper?”

My reply was not an answer to his question. “What the fuck are you doing to your guitar?”

He shrugged innocently. “I’m doing a little modification.”

“With a seventh string. Like Robert Johnson. Lovesong, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He paused, his brow creased. “You know about Robert Johnson? But you said—”

“Forget what I said. Yes, I know who Robert Johnson was. He wanted something from the Devil, and he sold his soul for it. Just like you wanna do. But you’re wasting your damn time. You’re letting all your talent go to waste, when you should be sharing it with the world.”

“I told you, I tried leaving once but the Lord had other plans.”

“I’m not so sure it was the Lord who decided you needed to stay.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you deserve a whole lot more than Clara’s Crossing can offer you. But just because you tried and failed once, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try again. And again. And again, till you get exactly what you want.”

Lovesong hung his head and began fiddling with the strings on his guitar once more. “I ain’t talkin’ about this with you, Noah. You’ll be gone in a few days, and I’ll still be here. And maybe that’s the way God meant for it to be.”

I knelt in front of him and placed my hands on his knees. “Or maybe he didn’t, and he’s just waiting for you to fight for what you really want.”

“You think it’s easy for me to just walk away from Clara’s Crossing? Leave everything I’ve ever known? Noah, are you forgetting I’m blind?”

“I didn’t say it would be easy. But maybe I can make it a little less hard on you… if you come with me when I leave.”

Lovesong lifted his face toward mine. “You want… you want me to go with you?”

“Yes. I do. I want you to finally know what’s out there. I want you to smell and touch and hear all the things you’ve never experienced. The crash of the ocean. The horns of a city street. The way snowflakes melt on your cheeks in winter.”

A smile almost took hold of his lips. “I’ve never felt snow before.”

“Then come with me. As soon as my car is fixed, we’ll leave here. Together.”

Fear suddenly gripped him, and he shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve got things to do.”

“Like what? Play your songs for the Devil? Lovesong, the Devil’s not real. We’ve just been tricked into believing he’s real, so we’ve got someone to blame when people do bad things. Don’t you get it? God… the Devil… neither one exists without men and women to do their bidding.”

“Noah, stop.”

“No, I won’t. And do you know why? Because I know that gift of yours didn’t come from a deal your mother made with the Devil.”

“How? How do you know?”

“Because those stories are folklore. They’re musical mythology legends created to sell records and books and magazines.”

“And you’re such an expert on the damn subject because…?”

“Because I’m one of the guys writing those books and magazines. I’m a music journo. It’s what I do for a living.”

He looked at me, anger and now puzzlement on his face. “What are you doing here? You ain’t here by mistake, are you, Noah? You were never just passing through.”

“I’ll tell you everything you need to know when we leave here. You just need to trust me. Trust me and promise me you’ll come with me.”

“No. Why would I trust you when you’re obviously keeping things from me? I may be blind but I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

Suddenly he stood, pushing me away and feeling for his tools on the bed, packing them abruptly into his toolbox. “I said earlier it would take a lot for you to upset me. Maybe I was wrong.”

“Lovesong, please. What are you doing?”

“I’m taking my things and spending the night in Leroy’s room.”

“Lovesong, don’t go. Can we just talk this through?”

“You already made it clear you don’t want me in on your secrets. And frankly, I don’t give a shit what you’re hiding from me. Like I said, soon you’ll be gone, and I’ll still be here, so what difference does it make anyway?”

With that he grabbed his toolbox, his portable amplifier, and his electric guitar, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

In the dead of night, as inky storm clouds blotted out the stars and the moon, I stood on the balcony listening to the mournful wail of Lovesong’s electric guitar from across the cotton fields.

There was a sadness to his playing that cut my heart.

And I knew I had to do whatever I needed to take him away from this place.

I realized my reason for being here had changed.

I had changed.