She Had it All

Jake was done with his call and was slowly moving back in their direction as he was writing something down.

"Taylor, I hope you and dad become good friends; he likes you. I can tell. He's a very special human being. He's one of those people who just seems to take care of others---me, certainly. I'm not sure I'd have made it without him. Take good care of him."

Jenny excused herself to tend to something in the kitchen as Jake returned.

"Your daughter---Jenny---how old...?"

"She's twenty-two---I'm forty-one. Clarisse and I got married very young, right out of high school. Any more questions? Oh, yes! I forgot. What do I do for a living? I teach. I'm a professor at the university. I'm a full professor in the History Department. How about you?"

"I'm not sure you want to know. Should I be calling you doctor?"

"Let's dispense with the formalities but, yes, I do have a doctorate. Go on. Is what you do illegal, immoral or unethical?"

"What? No. Certainly not illegal."

"Good. Sit down. Red or white?"

"Pardon me?"

"Wine. Red or white. We do make the beer but not the wine."

"Red...a Merlot or a Cab?"

"Damn fine. I'll get the wine and the glasses, you sit your pretty butt in that chair over there and then I'm all ears---if you're up to it."

"I'll work on it. I'm thirty, just for the record."

"Good to know; you look younger."

"Thank you."

"I'll be right back."

Jake returned in under a minute with an over-priced but quite exceptional Napa Cabernet.

"No one in their right mind ever orders it at the asking price so we might as well enjoy it."

"It's amazing." Taylor observed after a sip. "Do I look like anyone you've ever seen---known?"

"No, not remotely. But now that we're laying our cards on the table and since all men are pigs, I only stopped that first day because you cut an impressive figure standing out there with your head under the hood; and you look pretty good today, I might add."

"Ah, the old T&A," Taylor said, flipping her hair away from her wide set blue eyes. She was flirting. She regretted doing so for an instant. She knew how to flirt---knew how to make men desire her. Did she know how to make a man like her---respect her---love her?

"All I saw was the 'A'; I didn't see the 'T' until I stopped and while they are quite impressive, I'm more of an 'A' man---and a leg man---than a 'T' man. No offense."

"None taken. So that's why you didn't stare at my...?"

"I suppose, but I do confess to sneaking a peak at your rump every time I had a chance while we were painting."

"It's too big."

"Not from this man's perspective."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"I hope so."

"Good...I think. Sadly, Jake, I'm far better at flirting than I am at relating. Relationships! Not a very good track record there."

"I find that hard to believe; you were so relaxed---real---over those two days we worked together."

"I wasn't trying to impress you...make you like me...want me."

"Because I didn't matter?"

"That sounds so wrong but I guess there's some truth in it. You didn't matter as a man in the whole male/female scenario. I've spent my life trying to be what a man seems to want me to be and letting more than one try to shape me and mold me into what he needs. Now I'm not sure what I am---who I am."

"You need to be you."

"Easier said than done. Whether we're talking about sex, love, relationships or art I'm not sure I know anymore---if I ever did."

"Start over. Let me guess. Daddy left early for whatever reason. You blamed yourself. You thought, if you could be more nearly perfect, he'd stay---even though it had nothing to do with you. Let go of it---today. Think back to when you were happy---truly happy---and grab on to it...hold on to it for dear life. I do it every day."

"It seems too simple; I'm not sure I know how. It affects everything I do...my music."

"Oh, my! I should have known. Well, it's hopeless if you are a musician. I'm afraid you're destined to a life of misery and bad relationships."

"Really?"

"No, I was just kidding. Look. For me, music is just fun; it's not who I am. I don't make music or write music for anyone other than myself. I'm getting the sense that you are different. You got involved in music to please someone else---your mother? Somewhere the joy went out of it---if it was ever there? Was it?"

"Yes---and still is sometimes---but not often enough. I sing what they want me to...what sells...what pleases others---and yes, my mother is one of those others."

"Well, you are in luck! This is open mic night. You can get up on that stage and sing anything you want and something tells me you've got a voice so you're not going to drive everyone out of the place."

"I couldn't, I..."

"No pressure, babe, no producers, no promoters---no fans. Just you and music...your music, hopefully. Can you sing on a full stomach?"

"What? Sure."

"Good! Let's have something to eat---it's all good but if you like fish, the trout is so fresh it was swimming a couple of hours ago. Do you read music?"

"Of course."

"Of course, my ass! It's amazing how many very successful singers can't read music. Look, sing what you want but I've got a song that I can't sing---and I've never let anyone else do it. I'll get the sheet music for you. If you hate it, I'll understand. I've also got a duet that I've never done or let anyone else do. It's all country---but it's damn good and authentic. Again, no pressure."

Taylor read over the two songs as Jake retreated to the kitchen to personally prepare their dinner. Taylor had never sung anything remotely country. She loved the standards but her 'people' wanted her singing pop. It took her only seconds to know that these were good songs and she could do them justice. No never-ending rehearsals---no singing the same line over and over while a producer searched for the perfect track. Just do it; just sing it.

Taylor grinned as she swallowed the last tasty morsel of trout. "Okay, I'll do it. I love the songs. Any chance we could run through them once just so I can get the tempo?"

"Sure; the place isn't going to fill up---what am I saying, it's a weeknight---for at least another hour or so. There really is no place to go other than a storage room. Come on! Let me grab a six string and we'll give it a go."

A few minutes later the two of them sat inches apart on a bench in the dry goods storage pantry. Jake began the intro to the first song, a female solo, as Taylor followed the sheet music. Fearful of making too much noise she didn't remotely let the full power of her exceptional voice shine through, almost whispering the lyrics.

Jake found Taylor very attractive; her smile was captivating and her form pleasing. He'd already decided there was something he really liked about her. He had not, until the second he heard her voice in song, thought of her in a romantic sense although sex had certainly crossed his mind. At the instant that he heard her absolutely perfect, clear, angelic voice, he almost gasped and lost all sense of time and place. There was from that moment on nothing he would not do for her no matter the price. Little could she know that, in that magic moment, she had captured his heart and it was hers to keep forever if she saw fit to do so.

"Your voice...it's beyond amazing...perfect pitch. . . crystal clear...angelic...effortless!"

"Thank you. I don't usually sing this way...soft, almost a cappella. Fans---producers---want to hear the range and the power...want me to belt it out...stun 'em with the pipes."

"What's your actual range?"

"I can stay musical and pretty much in control over four octaves. Inside of three and change I'm in total control. I can exceed that by an octave or more at the high end but while it has some pop attraction I'm not sure it's still music---and I don't enjoy it. I'm a pretty standard soprano with a little gift at the top and bottom. I think it's the extended bottom range that intrigues people---surprises them. It gives my singing more...what's the word...earthiness?"

"Amazing! No one can sing softly with that level of control who doesn't have astounding power---and range. I don't want to tell you how to sing, Taylor---it's your voice. But...did it feel good...make you smile...did you feel the joy?"

"Oh, God, yes!"

"Then it's not someone else---me---telling you how you should sing; it's what you're feeling inside. Am I right?"

"Without question."

They moved on to the duet; it was a soft, tender love song. It was no challenge for Jake; he was singing it for the first time to and with the woman he was pretty sure he had just fallen in love with. Half way through the song as the two sang together as if born to do so, their eyes met and locked. Taylor's voice wavered almost imperceptibly; her eyes filled with tears. Oh, my God! The words: "waited my whole life." The wait was over for her, as completely insane, illogical and impossible as it seemed. Jake...the one...the one she had waited her whole life for? Please let me love him so that he can love me...please, God, help me make him love me. She needn't have worried her pretty head.

Jake placed his guitar on the bench as they both stood and smiled at each other. Wordlessly they were in each other's arms and their lips joined. This can't be real...it's not possible, no way! His lips and his arms say he could love me...he honestly could love me. Her arms and her kiss sent the same message back loud and clear.

"Wow!" Jake said as they broke their first kiss. "Let's do it just like that, Taylor, soft, understated. I know you've got some amazing pipes---save 'em. Just kiss the songs...just the way you just kissed me and everything will come out just fine!"

"Just fine?"

"Better than fine. Are you comfortable with it?"

"Completely."

"Good!"

"I'm going to need a couple of warm up songs, Jake. They're standards, not country and I don't need much accompaniment. Is that okay?"

"It's your mic and your night, dear heart. Sing whatever makes you feel good---joyful---happy."

Surprisingly, the place filled up more than one would have expected for a weeknight. A couple of other folks took advantage of the open mic and fortunately none of them were awful.

"How do you want me to introduce you?"

"I fear there will be people in the audience that will know my name---my stage name. Just introduce me as a special friend---named Taylor. My last name isn't that unusual, but...I am a special friend, aren't I, Jake?"

"Very special. What are you going to start with?"

"Stormy Weather?"

"I can cover that on the piano; it happens to be an open mic night favorite but somehow I sense that you are going to really do it justice."

The dinners and drinkers talked among themselves as Jake introduced his special friend. Ten seconds into the classic torch song, they were completely silent as every eye and ear focused on the small stage.

Don't know why there's no sun up in the sky.

Stormy weather

All I do is pray the lord above will let me walk in the sun once more.

Stormy weather.

Keeps raining all the time.

Billie Holliday and Frank Sinatra would have been proud---as would have Harold Arlen, the composer. When Taylor held the final note longer than should have been humanly possible everyone in the house knew this was not a typical open mic night. The audience went nuts. Several obviously called friends and family on their cell phones because more people drifted in over the next thirty minutes.

Taylor was on a roll; she sang half a dozen more standards; by the time she absolutely nailed, "Night and Day" the place was packed. She and Jake took a break. She walked over to the piano and sat down next to him.

"You think I could get a regular gig here?"

"We might be able to work something out. You look happy, hon. You look relaxed...at peace."

"I love these songs, Jake. I grew up with these songs...I was born to sing them but my 'people' don't believe they'll sell to the young pop audience and the pop concert crowd gets bored when I perform them."

"Are you sure you're okay singing my two songs? You don't have to, you know."

"I know...and that's why I want to. Do you think two songs is going to keep this crowd happy?"

"Probably not and I don't really have any other original stuff with me that's girlie so we may have to improvise some covers. I do have a stack of sheet music."

"I'm not completely ignorant as far as country music goes. My granddad listened to the Grand Ole Opry every Saturday night. I do know who Dolly Parton is and I love AKUS. When we record we rehearse over and over---record the same damn song a hundred times just to get the right sound. The concerts are completely scripted. I haven't had this much fun in longer than I can remember. What the Hell? It's open mic night---we can wing it!"

"That's my girl!"

Impetuously she kissed him. "I like being your girl. I hope I'm still your girl when you get to know me...know who I really am."

"Who you really are? Why, you're the gorgeous woman with the amazing voice sitting next to me. Let it go, babe...don't hold back...be the Taylor you want to be...need to be."

Jake and Taylor held the standing room crowd in the palms of their hands for two more hours. Keith Whitley's "When You Say Nothing at All" was the last song Taylor did before Jake's two originals and it stunned the audience. The love song solo was beyond anyone's belief but it was the final duet that told everyone in the place that there was something special between Taylor and Jake. These were his friends...people who loved him...people who hoped and prayed that the new girl in town was the one for him...the one who could bring a woman's love into his life again.

Several in the audience commented that she looked like a certain famous pop singer. Even though she had changed her hair and wore no makeup, someone was bound to figure it out. More than one said she sure as heck sang better. All Taylor could do was giggle inside. She wanted to enjoy the moment; her fear was that someone would or already had really figured out who she was and would burst the bubble. I'm going to love you tonight, like there's no tomorrow, Jake...love you better...love you like no woman has ever loved you and pray that you still love me tomorrow when you know the truth. She would soon discover that he already had a pretty good inkling of the truth.

"I don't suppose I could get a ride home?" Jake, inquired playfully.

"It's not out of my way at all, is it?" Taylor responded coyly. "You drive."

Damn foreign cars and their bucket seats, Taylor mused. She wanted to have her butt next to his and ideally, her hand on his cock.

"So, Taylor, before we get to my house, several people have told me you remind them of a certain contest-winning major pop diva who isn't named Taylor. What gives?"

"Taylor is my middle name; I use my first name professionally---Katherine. Jake, I..."

"And exactly how successful are you?"

"Successful? I sing crap because that's what people want me to sing. I sell out concerts singing pop crap. I have two multi-platinum albums singing crap. And if I want to go back to California and record more crap---people will buy it. There's no art to what I do; I hate it. It's not what's inside me so in a real sense I'm a failure."

"Any Grammys?"

"No. A nomination...what a joke. A People's Choice---also a joke. That's all."

"I have three---Grammys that is---song writing. I'll show them to you if you'd like to come in. Some other industry awards. They weren't crap but I do believe they weren't the best songs I ever wrote. The best songs I've ever written have never been recorded---because I never offered them to anyone. You sang two of them tonight; they've never been performed in public before---anywhere. You did them justice...there are others...written for a special woman to sing. With that voice..."

"You have three friggin' Grammys?"

"Seven nominations...three wins. Taylor, I realized tonight during the second set that I have heard your recordings---while getting my hair cut. They weren't that bad in spite of how much I hate pop but they were terribly over-produced and your amazing voice gets lost. Your people are right on one count; it's hard to sell the standards today no matter how wonderful they are---at least a whole album or concert full of them. It doesn't mean you can't slip one in here and there---expand the listeners' horizons. Hell, Gretchen Wilson slipped a Billie Holliday number in at the end of her second album---and does "Black Dog" in concert---and she's about as country as it gets. Garth has slipped a surprise in on more than one occasion."

"Where is this leading?"

"Taylor, you sing country as well as anyone I've ever heard short of Patsy Cline---and you'd give her a run for the money. If you should ever decide that you want to give it a go---country, I mean---you can have any of my songs you want, exclusively. I have some friends in the business who are also people I think you could live with. I don't know how your label would feel about it..."

"As of this minute, I don't have a label. They'd re-sign me in a minute but the contract is up."

"Start your own! Many of the best country artists have done so. You hopefully have saved some money, but financial backing wouldn't be that hard to scrape up. Do it your way; spend your own money and lay down the tracks---the way you want them to sound. Produce the product right down to the liner notes. Your name will sell the first half million and once people hear you sing---really sing---the rest will be history."

"I don't know anybody in country."

"I do. Good people with good hearts. Hell, one of the biggest singer-song writers in country music today has his own studio on a horse farm not an hour from here. He's a good friend; we shared one of those Grammys and he won an ACM with another of my songs. You'd love his wife---she a former California girl."

"What's in it for you, Jake, if I'm not being too cynical?"

"I was sorta hoping I'd convince a very special girl not to go back to California...give her a reason to stay."

"You men can be so silly some times. I was thinking I'd found all the reason I needed to stay...a man named Jake."

"Don't toy with me, young lady. Don't tease me, I'm getting too old for that."

"Are we going to sit out here in the car all night or are you going to invite me in? And I thought you lived in some broken down shack. Are those horses? Oh, my God---you have horses?"

"You like horses?"

"Love horses; actually know how to ride." The two entered Jake's home. "This place sure could use a woman's touch---love the kitchen though. Do you cook?"

"Of course. I moved after Clarisse was killed... pretty much started over. My daughter has her own place closer to campus; she'll be moving in the fall. It's about a three hour drive to the capital. Hope you like dogs---big dogs."

"Love dogs!"

"I'm going to let 'em both in; prepare to be slobbered on."

After the two pups were introduced and placated, Taylor quickly grabbed Jake and kissed him.

"I will never toy with your heart or tease you...well...I may tease you but not your heart. I told you I have a dismal track record when it comes to men and relationships and right now I'm giddy and scared to death in the same instant. I am generally insecure and needy but somehow around you, I feel neither. There are probably a million reasons why this isn't going to work; be patient with me. I have a good heart and I've waited a long time to give it to a man who won't break it. Are you that man, Jake?"

"Taylor, I've only loved one woman in my life before I met you. So, I guess we just need to crawl out on the thin ice together and hope that if one of us slips under the other will be there to pull us back to safety. I'm yours if you'll have me and I promise you more love than you could even imagine. You stole my heart earlier when we were rehearsing together in the pantry...be careful with it."