Moonbeam Ch. 06

"Your choice, Moon," she told her. "Whatever you decide is good with us. Just remember. You know Angie doesn't have problems at home?"

"No, the fan club watches over her."

"Yeah, and Tommy, and assorted other rather dangerous people, but we play our part, too." Emily was also president and chief operating officer (unpaid) of the Angel Graves fan club. "Well, we can do that for you, too, and we will. If we'd known there was a problem earlier, we'd have been on the job and there could not have been a threat. Couldn't, Moon. We're that good, and you know it."

"That's a relief."

"It's no secret. We want you back. But only if you agree that you can come back for us all."

"Oh, Em, that's so sweet."

I wondered if Emily had been talking to Cassie. Of course she had. She came over every day but never raised the subject again, chatted happily with Moon as they got acquainted all over again and was just good company.

It was a lovely Saturday morning, getting along toward lunchtime, when we heard the first noises. It sounded like quite a crew. Moon and I were for getting away before the mob trampled us, but Cassie just smiled serenely.

"It's not a problem," she explained. "Just a little demonstration of support by some people who love you, Moon."

"Some people" turned out to be several hundred young girls, singing the song from "Bye, Bye Birdie", possibly the essence of sixties kitsch, but hey, that was my period. Their singing was not perfectly in tune, but their hearts were in it, I could tell that.

"We love you Moonbeam, Oh, yes we do."

Fortunately, there wasn't another group out there singing we hate you Moonbeam, the way there'd been in the movie. Moon seemed to be affected by this "spontaneous" outpouring of support. It wasn't too likely to have been spontaneous. Cassie looked a little too much like a cat in the cream for that to have been so, and Emily was outside with the demonstration just bursting with pride. On the other hand, everyone inside and out loved Moon and it was so obvious. I could tell Moon was affected. Hard not to be, I'd say. No, that's not a tear. Just something in my eye.

The song didn't have much in words, but then it didn't need to. All it needed to do was to tell Moon that they were there for her, and that was pretty obvious just by looking. The song came to the close of yet another repetition - I might have to demonstrate just how it ought to be sung, but not just then.

"Oh, Moonbeam, we love you!"

That's when Cousin Emily stood up in front of them. Moon and the rest of us went out on the front lawn to greet them. Morag had gone up to her attic window, just in case, but it looked to me that if anyone even looked crosswise at Moon that morning they wouldn't find all of the pieces, so better plan on a closed casket funeral.

"Moonbeam," Emily started out, "we know why you've decided to retire, and we appreciate your concern for your family. We just want you to know that we are going to look out for you now, whether you come back or not. It's something we just have to do. But Moon, . . . please come back."

The crowd repeated the plea. "Moon, please come back."

"We're here for you, Moon, we promise. We love you." I detected Cassie's fine hand in that (I don't think she's got any Irish, but maybe). What they were doing was getting Moon to do what she wanted to do and to erase her worries the best they could.

Moon started crying and laughing all at the same time, but then she pulled herself together.

"I won't say that if I'd known how much you love and care for me, I wouldn't have quit. My children are too important to me to accept avoidable risks. You all know that."

There was a great shout of "We love you Moonbeam."

"Thank you. I love all of you, too." The point of this was that Moon wasn't putting it on. She did love the barely pubescent girls who followed her around, wore the clothes she modelled, looked up to her and, quite simply, adored her.

"I've had a lot to think about. Maybe there will still be problems, but Emily and Cassie and Angie have all made it clear that there will be a lot of people looking out for me and my family. And now you have all come to me to ask me so prettily ..."

"Pretty please," the crowd bellowed.

"Prettily, though not perhaps tunefully," she laughed. "What I'm saying, I guess, is that since you all want me to do it and I'd love to do it and you've all promised to help and keep an eye out, then I guess I'd better see if Jeune Fille will take me back."

"Just remember," Cassie added, "Moonbeam's agreed to go back because you asked her to. That means you're all committed to help her, to watch over her and her family and to go to her assistance if it's ever required. Which it won't be if you do the rest of what you're promising. Agreed?"

"Agreed!" the crowd bellowed again. "We love you, Moonbeam." Then back into several more chorusses of the song, and eventually the crowd dispersed, happy beyond belief that their hero would be restored to them, but also imbued with the resolution that Moonbeam would never regret her decision, a resolve they fully intended to pass down to their sisters, their girlfriends, and eventually their children.

"Oh Angie, have I done the right thing?" Moon asked.

"Likely so, sweetie, likely so."

***

Since I was in town already, Jeune Fille didn't have to chase me around, the way most people have to do, to talk me into doing a welcome back concert for Moon. This being retired bit isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know. Here I am working nearly as much and not making anything like the money. On the other hand, what Jeune Fille was offering wasn't chump change, either.

The only stipulation they put on the concert was that Moon had to be on stage with me and say a few words at the beginning of the second set. That was no problem. She was a real decoration for any stage. Unfortunately, Kimmie and the boys weren't going to be able to make it. Rather than go with an untried group of musicians, I co-opted Cloud as accompanist. He'd done it for me once before, a concert that really merited attention. We could do it again. Between us, we didn't have any trouble working up a program.

Jeune Fille had started with the idea that they would make it a free concert, but then they decided to sell tickets and reserve out a good thousand seats for whatever they figured would work. A big chunk of those seats went to Emily's people, the ones who'd kept watch and reported in. Then there was the usual chunk of the office staff. It was a big venue, the university stadium, seating somewhat over sixty thousand. I wished I knew how many it could seat standing, since not too many sat down all night. I knew they were mostly there for Moon, which was as it should be, certainly, but I was wondering whether retirement had been necessary, or maybe now the kids were big enough I could do a comeback. Tommy must have known what I was thinking, because he started shaking his head "No", and a little more that meant "Hell, no". I suppose he was right. If I ended up doing this much singing now that I was retired, what would going back to work full time have meant? Besides more money.

We got it off with my old opener, "Tommy (formerly Johnny) Angel", and went through mostly sixties songs, the way I'd originally done the concerts, but that was the way I'd kept them going, too. We ended with "Morning Has Broken", the hymn I used to commemorate Emma and Evie. I couldn't do a concert without remembering the people, now long gone from us, who'd started me off and then died, way too young, the way Moon might have died on us if we hadn't been there to help.

The second set started with Moon thanking everyone for their support, and stating that now the perpetrator was in jail and she was sure there'd be no repetition of the attacks, given all the support she had, she was prepared to go back to working with Jeune Fille and looked forward to meeting all her fans again. That got a great roar out of them, so I started in with the second set songs, mostly ones I'd written, the first of which was "Welcome the Moonbeam". Cloud and I had banged that one out a couple of nights back and Cloud had designed the staging that had Moon looking like her moonbeam namesake. That made a hell of a video and I think it went platinum. Tommy's better at keeping track of that sort of thing than I am. Then we had "Dancing in Cairo" and a bunch more like it. At the end of the set I got them all singing "We Love You Moonbeam". It's shorter than they wanted so we did it a few times so they could get all their feelings out. They were still singing it when Cloud and I left the stage.

The third set was back to the oldies, Seekers songs (I still think Judith Durham was better than I am) and a few others, some of my hits, just to remind them whose concert it was. Much as I love Moonbeam, it was my concert.

I don't think they expected it when I ended the concert with a Stan Rogers song, new to me, maybe, but not to the world. Even though I was born Canadian somehow I hadn't done much of his work before.

My people knew that I wouldn't give an encore unless badly pressed by a lot more than a standing ovation. They didn't know I was going to drop a song on them that they couldn't respond to, but if there was such a song, it was "The Mary Ellen Carter". Not too many of them knew it, because when I started the audience seemed to be bemused. What was their darling Angie doing singing a folk song about some sunken ship they'd never heard of? An imaginary ship, at that. The song was right, though. We'd triumphed over a lot in the past week and a little inspiration wouldn't hurt anyone. Sing with me:

And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow,
With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go,
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain,
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Rise again, rise again; though your heart it be broken
And life about to end.
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend:
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.

Rise again, rise again; though your heart it be broken
And life about to end,
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend:
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.