Thank God for Irish Women Ch. 03

"You have a nice one."

"Emily, please."

"I just want to give you some relief. Before you woke, you were as hard as a rock."

"You felt me before I woke?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"What if I had felt you?"

"That would've been okay."

"Emily, we must be from different worlds. I was brought up to respect the privacy of everyone and certainly not feel their bodies while they were asleep."

"If you'd tried to have sex with me while I was asleep, that'd be unacceptable."

"But feeling you would be okay?"

"Well, I'd have liked it more if I were awake. But for you to satisfy your curiosity, that'd be fine."

"Emily, you're much more sexually liberated than I am."

"I obviously am. I grew up with just Mom, of course, and she was sexually liberated. She often had men over, and I knew about sex from the time I was six or seven. Men loved her Irish accent. Sometimes the men were also Irish. She had a great body and was very pretty. She never did it in front of me on purpose, but I could hear them and would occasionally peek in and watch. Sex is not a mystery or embarrassing to me.

"Mom wouldn't let me date until I was 16, and she started me on the pill before that. She knew that guys would find me attractive, and she wanted to protect me as much as possible. We had many mother-daughter talks about sex and our natural desires and how to relieve them."

"Naked bodies and intimate actions were never really foreign to you."

"That's right. I'm very comfortable being naked with you. But, I understand you're not and I'll respect that."

"Emily, I think that sex needs to be a special event. If we're frequently naked in front of each other, some of the excitement of taking each others' clothes off won't happen. There's a saying that familiarity breeds contempt. That means we don't recognize just how special a person is because we see that person every day. For example, if I saw your boobs every day, I wouldn't think they're so wonderful after a period of time."

"I think that happened with Patrick. I loved him dearly, and we were always naked in front of each other in the apartment. As you say, we probably took each others' body for granted. When we had sex, which was often, there wasn't much romantic foreplay."

"That's probably because the excitement of seeing each other naked had long ago dissipated. I like that excitement and look forward to it when the time comes for us, if it comes."

She leaned into me again for another kiss.

"Emily, I've got to go meet the building manager for final inspection. I need to shower and shave right now, or I'll be late."

"Okay. I'll be ready when you return."

****

Fortunately, the inspection went well, and the manager returned my full deposit. Turned out they were planning to remodel that unit anyway so he was only looking for wall damage. Still, the apartment looked fine when I left and I felt I'd done my part.

I returned to the inn. Hearing water running in the bathroom, I knocked on the door to let her know I was back.

"Come in. I'm just finishing."

I opened the door and saw Emily applying makeup, dressed only in her bra and panties.

"Oh, excuse me. I thought you were dressed."

"Matt, I'm dressed, at least enough."

I frowned but kept quiet.

"Listen. Look at me Matt. Matt, look at me, please. Would you be embarrassed if you saw me in a bikini?"

"No."

"Good. Now what's the difference between what I have on now and a bikini?"

"Underwear is not supposed to be seen but bikinis are."

"Come on, now. Wait until you see my bikinis. They show more than this. Listen, I'm not a Puritan and I'm not Amish or Muslim. I'm a girl from California. You've seen other women naked. Are we going to have this discussion every day for the next few weeks?"

"No. I'm fine with it. I just need to adjust my views, I suppose."

My reaction surprised me. It wasn't seeing an almost naked woman that caused my reticence, it was seeing the woman who was slowly stealing my heart. That scared me because I knew what was coming... at least I thought I did.

****

The drive to Chattanooga was an easy 90 minutes up I-75. The plan was to intersect I-24 there and take it to Nashville. As it was near lunchtime, I used the Garmin to direct us to the top of Lookout Mountain. We found a small restaurant and enjoyed a dramatic view of the valley. The Tennessee River winds its way south through Chattanooga and then makes a big U-turn and heads north at the base of Lookout Mountain. It's a very scenic place.

After lunch, we drove down the mountain and up I-24 toward Music City. I was excited to be attending the Grand Ole Opry. We talked about many things along the way, getting to know each other.

I wanted to expose her to some of the good country music. "Emily, look in the glove compartment and put in one of the CDs." She looked through them but didn't recognize any of the artists.

"Who are these people?"

"Some of the artists we'll see tonight."

She opened the one by Lady Antebellum, and we listened to their Need You Now CD. She liked the title track and then "Our Kind of Love," and "American Honey" sealed the deal. She replayed all three.

"I can't believe this is what you call country music. It's good."

"They're scheduled to perform tonight."

"Wonderful. What do I play next?"

"How about Alan Jackson?"

She inserted his latest CD Freight Train. The first cut was "Hard Hat and A Hammer." She sat quietly and listed to four or five of the songs.

"Now this is more what I expected with the fiddle and steel guitar. He has a nice voice, and the stories he tells are beautiful. Some are very sentimental."

"The best country music songs tell a story of either love, hurt, memories or emotional events. And they mix in trucks, trains, dogs and momma too, but not cats." She laughed. "Alan is also there tonight."

"Now I'm getting excited."

It was like that all the way to Nashville as she played the music of Kenny Chesney, Martina McBride, Toby Keith and others. By the time we arrived, she was a country music fan and embarrassed she had never taken it seriously.

We checked in at the Best Western in the early afternoon. Because the show was at 7:00, we had time to unpack and relax at the pool before dressing and walking down the street through Music Row. Emily wore a black bikini that left nothing to be imagined. Her flawless skin and figure gave her the appearance of a professional swimsuit model in Sports Illustrated.

There were very few at the pool until she arrived and took her robe off. Men seemed to suddenly show up from everywhere. We thought it was funny, and she joked with several of them just to be a tease. I thought one man would pass out when he tried to hold in his stomach.

Returning to the room at 4:30, we quickly dressed for the Opry. Our plan was to walk down to the Ryman, through Music Row and find a quick place to eat. That plan worked well and we arrived in line at the "will call" window with 40 minutes to spare.

I gave our names, and a young man went to find the envelope. He returned and said, "I see you're special guests of the Opry tonight. These are your backstage passes and when you enter the doors, they will notify your guide. Welcome to the Opry."

We were stunned. Backstage? Guide? Special guests... us? Emily and I stared at one another, shocked, as we walked to the entrance.

The man checking our tickets was very pleasant. He asked another gentleman there to call Herb and tell him that Mr. Anderson and Miss Ryan had arrived. We waited inside and just a minute later, an energetic young man arrived and introduced himself. "Hi Matt, Emily. I'm Herb Johnson and I'll be your guide and host tonight. Welcome to the Opry! Please come this way."

We walked into the Ryman auditorium and down to the front, past the left end of the stage, and through a side door that was guarded by a security woman. She greeted us with a broad smile.

When inside the door, Herb stopped and said, "We are very happy to have you here. The Cracker Barrel Restaurant folks have been great sponsors of ours for many years; they must think the world of you two. We rarely give backstage passes like you have."

That was the first time we heard that Cracker Barrel was our sponsor. I had always enjoyed their food.

"Just a little about the history of this famous building. It was constructed in 1892 and was originally the Union Gospel Tabernacle. That's why we still have the old church pews. It was built by Thomas Ryman, a riverboat captain and Nashville businessman who owned several saloons. It became home to the Opry in 1943 and remained so until 1974 when the new Opry house was built. As you know, the flooding two weeks ago caused massive damage there, and the Opry performances have returned here while the repairs are made. This building has been on the National Register of Historic Places since 1971, and was further designated a National Historic Landmark in 2001.

"Now follow me and I'll show you what makes this tour very special."

As we walked, Herb told us, "We have many major artists here tonight. We're kicking off dozens of fundraisers for the people affected by the flooding and the artists are coming in to support that.

"Tonight, we have Alan Jackson, Emmylou Harris, Lorrie Morgan, Craig Morgan, George Jones, and the hottest group out there Lady Antebellum. You two will have an amazing night. We rarely have this many big stars in one show."

We followed Herb around two corners and heard music. "These are the dressing rooms straight ahead and many musicians get together and play for each other back here. It's a show within the show, so to speak."

We stood and watched them play for five minutes and couldn't believe what we were experiencing. These musicians were fantastic, the best in the business, and Emily couldn't stop smiling. As we were listening, someone walked up behind us and called our names, "Emily, Matt." I turned and looked down. Little Jimmy Dickens (all 4'11" of him) removed his hat and smiled as Herb introduced him.

I said, "I'm excited to meet you, sir. I've loved your humor and music for all my years. How did you know our names?"

"All the artists here tonight know your names. Bob Thompson is a dear friend of ours, and he must have called every one of us this week to tell us you were coming. Emily, we are all sorry for your loss. That was just unbelievable."

Although shocked she replied, "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your thoughts and kindness."

"Life can be rough sometimes, Emily. All of us experience loss of loved ones, but to be called home so young is never expected. You'll be in my prayers, young lady."

"Thank you, sir." To my surprise, she leaned down and kissed his cheek. He shook hands with me.

Herb took us to the next room and we stopped as several artists were sitting there, drinking coffee and talking. Herb told us to go in and he introduced us to Alan Jackson, Lorrie Morgan and George Jones. Alan and George stood as Emily entered.

Alan spoke, "Emily, we learned of your loss this week and are very sorry it happened. Bob told us some of the details, and it shocked us."

She thanked him.

I said, "Everyone seems to know Mr. Thompson but we don't know why."

Alan replied, "Bob helped most of the artists set up charitable foundations and administer them. He and Judy are very good at finding where money is needed and helping us determine how much we should give."

Lorrie added, "Bob is great at finding misery that needs our help. Judy makes sure he doesn't go overboard."

George joked, "You're good at finding misery, Lorrie. How many times have you been divorced?"

"Only five. But, you found a lot yourself over the years, George." Everyone laughed, as he was a legend for his drinking and carousing.

George replied, "Yeah, but we don't want to bore these young people with all my tales. My life is an open book, thanks to the Internet." Everyone laughed.

Alan turned to us and said, "Emily, my final number tonight is my mother's favorite song but I want to dedicate it to you. I'll not tell anyone why, but I do want to mention your first name and ask for our fans here and around the world to pray for you. Is that okay?"

Her tears began flowing and her chin quivered as she nodded. Each of the artists tenderly embraced her and said they would be praying for her.

Craig Morgan and Emmylou Harris had not yet arrived. Herb introduced us to Lady Antebellum, a trio composed of Hillary Scott, Charles Kelley, and Dave Haywood.

Emily told them how much she enjoyed their CD and even said something about what a couple of the songs meant to her. Hillary hugged her and said how sorry they were for her loss.

After all the introductions, Herb walked us to the stage and seated us behind and to the right of the performance area. The curtains were still down, but the first performers were ready. The longtime background singers, two men and two women known as the Carol Lee Singers, walked out and took their places. The announcer welcomed everyone in a deep, booming voice and the curtain went up on the best show Emily and I had ever seen.

It was as if we were part of it. We could see many people in the audience, and the sound quality was excellent. All the artists came on and off the stage walking by us. Many of them and their musicians greeted us verbally or nodded their heads and smiled as they walked to or from the microphones.

I often glanced at Emily. She was always smiling with her foot tapping to the beat of the music. It was impossible to not be overwhelmed by this experience.

We laughed and cheered at the humor and the wonderful music that not only filled the Ryman but was sent all over the world by WSM 650 Radio on the Internet. There were commercial breaks to accommodate the radio sponsors. They were used to change the artists, musicians, and instruments, and reset microphones, and advertisers' banners. Sitting on the stage gave us a view of all this back-of-the-curtain action that most of the audience never saw.

Following a memorable performance of his classics by George Jones, Lady Antebellum came out in the next to last set and rocked the house. People were standing and cheering during the entire three-song performance.

It was then Alan Jackson's turn to close the show. When he was introduced and walked onto the stage, the applause and cheers shook the building. Here was a real modern-day superstar with more than 30 number one hits. He performed a song from his new CD and then sang "Chattahoochee," a number one hit from 1993. Emily looked at me and smiled as she recalled our first real date on that river.

Before his last song, Alan quieted the crowd, and announced that many artists were going across the country over the next few months to perform with all the proceeds going to flood victims in the Nashville area. He asked for everyone to check the Internet and listen to the country music stations to find a show in their area.

He continued, "Folks, you know how tight-knit we are. Country music artists and fans are like a large family. When one of us suffers, we all suffer. Ten of our family were killed by the flood here in Davidson County and we pray for them and their loved ones. However, many of us experience tragedies that often go unnoticed by our family. I met a young lady named Emily earlier tonight and she has had one of those tragedies. I ask that y'all pray for her. This is a very difficult time in her life."

He added, "Emily, this last song is for you and for all those in our family who suffer alone and in silence."

Alan sang "Amazing Grace" with only a piano accompanying him. It was soul-stirring, and I could see many in the crowd wiping their eyes as I was doing. Emily leaned into me and quietly wept.

After the curtain dropped to the deafening roar of the standing ovation, Alan walked off the stage but stopped, removed his hat and gave Emily a warm and lingering hug. They whispered to each other, but the cheering was so loud I couldn't hear what was said. She kissed him on the cheek, and he smiled, shook hands with me and walked away with his band members.

Herb escorted us back to the entrance and we thanked him for the once-in-a-lifetime experience.

The walk up Music Row to our hotel was memorable. The doors to all the bars and music shops were open, and the artists playing inside were very good. We stopped for several minutes at the Ernest Tubb Record Shop and joined a hundred other fans listening to Marty Stuart. It was like the entire street was a party and everyone was in a happy mood. It would probably go on until the wee hours.

I purchased two cans of beer from the bar at our hotel before walking to the room.

Emily said, "Tonight was special. I had no idea that Bob and Judy would do that for us."

"I was shocked."

"Matt, these are major stars and they cared about me. I'm nobody." Her chin began quivering.

"They're also human and have emotions just like you and me."

Emily was quiet for a moment before adding, "Although Mom never took me to church, I've heard 'Amazing Grace' several times. Tonight, it touched me."

"Me too. That song has touched many people over the years."

"Thanks for bringing me here. Tonight has been one I'll always remember."

"Do you mind telling me what Alan said to you after the show?"

"I suppose not. For a moment, he was almost like a father to me. He said to always remember that when God closes one door, He opens another one. He added that he believed God has a special plan for me."

I was surprised. "Do you believe that?" I asked.

"I don't know. My experience has been doors slamming in my face."

I sadly asked, "You ready for bed?"

"Let me finish this beer. I want to take another shower; all the walking caused me to sweat."

"Yeah, I need one."

"We could take one together." She suggested with a grin.

"No we can't, Emily."

"Just wanted to check."

She took her pajamas and walked to the bathroom. I stretched out on the bed and watched the late news while thinking about the show. I must have fallen asleep.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

I awoke in the early hours with a painful beer bladder problem. I still had on street clothes, but Emily must have removed my shoes. She was sleeping soundly, this time in her bed.

After changing to pajamas, I had trouble getting back to sleep. My mind kept replaying the previous evening. There was no way either of us could ever top that experience.

My mind switched to what I needed to do. First was to promptly call Bob and thank him. I had not yet told my parents about Emily so I needed to make that call. We needed to plan our itinerary and make hotel reservations, but Emily needed to give her input.

****

I heard something and awoke to see Emily opening her suitcase. She was again in a bra and panties. I lay still and watched her. Her movements were very graceful, and her body, exquisite.

She turned and saw me watching. "Hey. Glad you finally joined the land of the living."

"What time is it?"

"Almost 7:00."

"That's late for me."

"Yeah, it's 8:00 in Atlanta. I was beginning to get concerned."

"When I wake up during the night, I often have trouble getting back to sleep. My mind is too active in the early morning hours."

She came and jumped on my bed as if she were a child. "So, Mr. Anderson, tell me what you were thinking in the early morning hours. You probably need my advice."

"Are you now my shrink?"

"Yes, the doctor is in. Five cents, please."

I asked, "Are you worth that much?"

"Probably not."

"I was thinking about the calls I need to make. Mom and Dad haven't heard about you. I need to warn them I have another house guest coming."

"Will they understand us traveling together?"

"Sure. They'll be proud of me for helping you."