I Shall Be Released

How do you really know when someone loves you? I mean really, deep down, without hesitation or qualifiers, loves you? This is the story of how I found out.

*****

I met him at a bar. Already sounds a little seedy, doesn't it? But he wasn't there cruising, or looking for Miss Right Now. He was in the band, a local country band with serious rock overtones. They had a pretty big following, and the place was packed for a Thursday night.

My friends practically dragged me there, and my mother all but threw me out the door. "Go. Have fun. You used to love to dance, so dance. Let yourself go and just move to the music. You don't even need a partner, and the girls have sworn to me they'll watch over you. It's time honey, time to go back to the woman you used to be."

I refused to wear a dress, but had enough pride in my appearance to wear a really snug pair of jeans and a red silk blouse that showed a hint of cleavage. Looking myself over, I decided I needed just a hint of makeup, a light lip gloss, did my hair up a little, topping the outfit off with my red cowboy boots. The girls looked me over and started smiling. Melody declared in a singsong, breathy voice, "She's back!"

They all hugged me before bundling me into Autumn's monster SUV. Six women and we were still comfortable. We were bound for a new place, Silver Spurs, and the reviews I'd read were favorable.

Freezing up when we hit the parking lot, it took them ten minutes to get me out of the vehicle. Autumn, the 'mama' of the group at 39, put her arm around me. "We got your back, honey. Your asshole ex still has about six months to a year to go, and if any of his lowlife buddies are around, we'll put a bug in the owner's ear. That should send them packing."

After a while I started relaxing. At first, I just danced in a group with the girls, but by the second set I'd danced with two men, guys I'd known since high school. One hugged me and I froze up, then relaxed. He was my friend, and genuinely happy to see me. I never danced a single slow dance.

Line dancing was almost a thing of the past, but the band did a couple of numbers for the old patrons, and I remembered the steps, so I swayed and twirled on the dance floor. I was flushed and happy when it was over, dying for a drink, so I made it back to the table and killed my ginger ale, before asking the waitress for a glass of ice water.

I was catching my breath when the band, still in the country groove, did a modern Western Swing song. "Moonlight In Tennessee," by Freddy Johnson. I had the album and was surprised by how well they did. The lead singer didn't do it, turning the mic over to another band member, and his high tenor did an outstanding job. He was playing a short little guitar lying on a stand, using a steel slide, and the sounds he could produce was amazing. I learned later it was called a lap steel. An older couple waltzed by us, cheek to cheek, and it made me sad, wondering if I'd ever find a love like that.

The band took a break, and when they came back, they announced it was their last set, and asked if there were any requests. Half the bar was screaming for a song I'd never heard of, "Green Grass and High Tides." The band grinned and said they would save it for last. There were a few others, and they played as many as they could, before announcing last song. They had two really good guitarists, and the bass player treated his instrument like a lead guitar. When you added the steel player, it was a pretty impressive wall of sound.

The song started slowly, with a lot of finger picking for the intro. Then the steel player joined in, doing a nice counterpoint, followed by the other guitarist. Soon the song was being played at breakneck speed, propelled along by the drummer and the bassist, and I was fascinated, watching the steel players' fingers fly across the strings. There was a tight three-piece harmony in a couple of places, and by the time it was over the people were on their feet cheering, while the band bowed, bathed in sweat.

The lights came up long before the cheering stopped.

*****

I got a good look at the band when the lights went up, thinking they must grind those guys out on a 3D printer in Nashville. All with medium long hair and full beards or goatees, wearing some version of a cowboy hat. Only the steel player and the drummer were cleanshaven, and the steel player had shaggy but short sandy brown hair.

They walked by us and the drummer stopped. "Hi, Katie. Enjoy the show?"

Our friend Katie gave him a hug, laughing. "You guys were on fire tonight! That new guy really sets your sound apart, where did you get him?"

His grin got bigger. "At church. Momma made me go to Easter service and he was there, and I found out he played with the church musicians sometimes. When he told me what he played I begged him to jam with us. It took two months, then another three to get him to play in public with us. Ah, here he is now."

Kyle had joined him by then, and Billy introduced him to everyone. Normally I didn't say a lot, but I did compliment him on his skill. "What made you decide to take up that particular instrument?"

I thought he wasn't going to answer me for a minute. "I was in a car wreck a few years ago, and it damaged my left hand. I can still play guitar, but my fingers give out after about thirty minutes. This way I can still play, and I really enjoy it."

"Well, you do a really good job. I'm glad you overcame your adversity."

"Thanks. You know the old saying. When a door closes, jump out the window, or something along those lines. It was nice to meet all of you."

*****

"Kyle's cute."

I looked at Katie as she grinned. We were on the way home, tired but happy.

"He'll do."

"Stop! He has those killer brown eyes and hair that just begs to have a woman's fingers running through it."

"Why don't you do it, then?"

She held up her ring finger. "I've already got my man so I'm set for life."

"I'd do him." We both looked at Nannete as she grinned.

"And then you'd do someone else the next weekend," said Katie as she giggled.

"Hopefully."

Nan was the youngest, still sampling life, not quite ready for the responsibility of a relationship. I hoped I was around long enough to see her fall in love. I bet it would terrify her.

"How come he doesn't have someone? He seems the serious type, and he's pretty enough to attract about anyone he wanted."

Katie was quiet for a few minutes. "He could go home with a different woman every night if he wanted, but he's not built like that. He would kill me if I told you this, but he was married once. It ended badly."

"Who cheated?"

"Nobody. They were together for five years, married for four, when the accident happened. It wasn't their fault, a logging truck didn't have their load properly secured, and it shifted as they passed. It killed her instantly and messed him up pretty good. It's the reason why his hand is the way it is. As far as I know, he hasn't dated since she passed, and it's been three years. The worst part was they were on their way to her parents, to tell them they would be grandparents in five more months."

The car got quiet as we processed what she had said. I couldn't imagine the pain he must have felt. Then again, maybe I could.

*****

I'd been married once. To say it ended badly was the understatement of the century. The first yea was bliss, and then I got pregnant. I didn't mean to, I was on the pill, but it failed me. Beau was not happy, being quite content to receive all my attention. He even made me an appointment at an abortion clinic, and when we pulled up, I immediately called an Uber and left him standing.

Carrie Ann was a beautiful baby, at least both sets of parents agreed, with enthusiasm. Beau refused to touch her, which got him an earful from his mother.

His attitude didn't change and even though I was in pain, everything fell to me. If the grandparents hadn't helped, I wouldn't have made it. As Carrie grew, he became more distant. We had many a fight after she was asleep over it, but he refused to interact with her at all. Eventually she learned to ignore him, but I could tell she was hurting. When she entered school, it got worse.

By the time she was five he started hitting me. I look back now and for the life of me can't figure out why I didn't leave him the first time, but I still harbored hopes we could eventually be a family, and held on.

Then he went too far, and smacked Carrie Ann so hard he knocked her unconscious. I went into full momma bear mode, and jumped him. He managed to beat the hell out of me before the cops showed up. They took one look at Carrie's eye, my bruises and scratches, and arrested him. My daughter and I got a trip to the emergency room, and after we were checked over and photographed, we talked to a counselor.

By then I'd had enough, and got a lawyer. It took him three weeks to get out of jail because his parents and none of his friends would post bail. He got hit with divorce papers and a restraining order when he processed out of county, and he responded by coming over, breaking the door down, and cracking my jaw, breaking my nose, and bruising my ribs. As soon as he showed up, I called the police, and they were probably the only thing that kept me from dying. I remember grinning through the pain at the gentleness they used as they arrested him. He took a swing at a female officer and she tased him. Her male counterpart 'gently' threw him in the car, missing the door the first time and smacking his head on the fender.

The Judge was not happy with him for violating the restraining order as quickly as he did, denied him bail and ordered a mental evaluation. They determined he had anger issues. What a surprise. He stayed inside for four months, going through therapy until they felt he was fit to rejoin society. By then, his parents, encouraged by his counseling, paid his bail and got him a lawyer. He ended up getting released for time served, with probation, and he had to continue his counseling.

I knew he was out but never saw him, and I gradually relaxed. Six months later I was having dinner with a friend from work, a male friend, helping him plan his wife's surprise birthday party. Angela and Tim were on their way, but we got there early and were having a drink when someone grabbed my ponytail and yanked me backwards out of the chair.

It was Beau. He came in, saw me with a man, and jumped to conclusions. He was ranting, slapping me, when Barry tried to help. Turning his rage to him, Beau was well on the way to beating the hell out of him when Tim and two of the waiters piled on him, pressing him to the floor until the cops came once again. Barry and I went to the hospital, where I got six stitches and Barry had his jaw wired.

Beau was refused bail again, his sentence went active, and he was charged yet again with violating a restraining order, and two counts of aggravated assault, resulting in serious bodily harm. He drew the same Judge, and he threw the book at him after the jury found him guilty on all counts. He was going away for a minimum of four years and five months, if he behaved. Knowing Beau, I found that unlikely. Carrie Ann was nine now, and he still had almost a year to go.

He wrote me from jail, long letters of apology, professing his love for me and the hope we would be reunited when he got released. After the first three I stopped reading them, but on the advice of my divorce attorney, I kept them all, stacking them in boxes. He averaged eight letters a week.

I was still close to his parents, and they were so shocked by his behavior they didn't visit him for almost two years. His mother told me after the second visit how much he'd changed, and how she worried what would happen when he got out. I kept the restraining order current, just in case.

As you could see, I had a hard time letting a man get close to me again.

*****

Things change, life goes on, and sometimes you just have to deal with it. Mom worked, not that she needed it, but because she wanted to. She often said she'd go crazy in a month if all she had to do was rattle around in our big house. Dad had died suddenly, without warning, but he was always the planner, and he had enough life insurance to set Mom up for life. He had payoff insurance on the house and cars, three different life insurance policies (one that we had no idea about), he even had a small policy that named me beneficiary. Clever man that he was, he had it set up in trust if I was still married, to be paid out when Carrie was eighteen. If nothing else it would help with her college. If I was single, I got it immediately, and I had been divorced for five months when he passed.

Word got out and the ex called, demanding his half. "I'll send you a check," I promised, and I did. For ten cents, with a note. "It's more than you're worth but my banker told me it wasn't cashable for any amount smaller. Try not to spend it foolishly."

His rant, which I recorded, set a record, even for him. I gave it to my lawyer, who gave it to the Judge, who shared it with Beau's lawyer, with a warning. "No contact. No phone calls, Facebook, Instagram, any means of communication down to smoke signals, if he breaks it, he gets a bigger sentence. A much bigger sentence. Make him understand." He didn't, and that got him even more jail time.

Because Mom worked, I had to have someone watch Carrie Ann from the time she got off the bus until I got off work, roughly two hours. One of Mom's older friends had been doing it, she lived on a fixed income and the extra money, as small as it was, helped. Now, she suddenly was without afterschool care. Mrs. Rosemund had died in her sleep, holding a picture of her husband, with a smile on her face.

My boss liked me, so he let me leave early to meet the bus for two weeks, until I could arrange another caregiver. A week went by and I hadn't found anyone, and I was getting panicky. Then one day I found Mom at home, without Carrie. "Where's Carrie?"

"She's with her new sitter, getting acquainted. I think they like each other and I feel good about it. Give it another hour and we'll pick her up."

We talked as we prepped dinner, and I realized how much I enjoyed it. Mom was always teaching me new things, things that came in handy when I reached adulthood, things I had come to appreciate more and more as they years passed. Finally, she dusted her hands and decided it was time to go.

We walked outside and past her car, and she grinned. "Come on, it's just a block away and it's a beautiful day. I think you'll really like Mrs. Pike."

It was a pretty house, with a lot of flower beds, perfectly maintained, and I wondered who her lawn service was. Mom didn't stop at the front door, instead going around the side to the kitchen rapping lightly. Carrie Ann yanked it open, her smile nearly splitting her face. "Mom, Grandma! I made cookies!"

There was a really nice smell coming out. Carrie was in an apron that fitted her surprisingly well, and I expected the kitchen to look like a bomb went off, but it was neat as a pin and if I hadn't been able to smell the cookies baking, I would never believe the kitchen had been used lately. Carrie dragged me over to a woman not much bigger than she was, but she was perfectly proportioned for her frame, and really attractive for her age, which I guessed would be late forties. She smiled pleasantly and extended a hand.

"Hi, Rosalyn Pike. You have a lovely daughter, very well mannered. I suspect we'll get along famously, and it's been so long since I had a child this size in my house. My son is long grown, and so far, he hasn't provided us with grandchildren. I have an order in for four, but we'll see."

Mom grinned as she trailed behind. "Cookies, Ros?"

"I was going to make them anyway, and Carrie wanted to learn. She did all the mixing, and I handled the baking. They're about ready to come out. Coffee while we wait?

We settled down at the kitchen table as Carrie watched the timer anxiously. Three minutes later it dinged and Mrs. Pike put on mitts and brought them out, placing them on a cooling rack. The smell was mouthwatering.

"What kind of cookie is it?"

"It's M&M cookies, with coconut flakes. It was, is rather, my son's favorite. I think he can smell them from a mile away."

We finished the coffee, and even though we hadn't had dinner, we had one cookie each. They melted in your mouth, still warm and gooey. The coconut flakes were a nice touch. They had made two dozen, and Mrs. Pike insisted Carrie take a dozen home. Mom grinned, knowing we'd have to guard them like Ft. Knox, or they'd be gone in two days.

I asked how much she would charge to watch Carrie and she hugged me. "I ought to be paying you, your daughter is a lovely child. How does fifty a week sound to you?"

"Terribly inadequate. You obviously have no idea how much daycare costs these days."

"It's only a couple of hours, and I enjoy the company. When Henry meets her, you may not get her back. He always wanted a girl, but one was it for us."

There was a shadow on her face, and I knew there was more to the story. She shrugged. "Anyway, that's my offer. Take it or leave it, as the businessmen say."

I took it.

*****

Carrie chattered all the way home, about as happy as I'd seen her lately. "Grandma Pike is going to let me help in her garden! We're going to plant squash, cucumbers, and four different kinds of tomato! Can we have a garden?"

I cringed. One of the things I inherited from my mother was a black thumb. We tried for years, and we just weren't good at it. Maybe Carrie would break the chain. We discussed it, looked up some things on the internet, and decided container gardens were the way to go. Mom said she'd pick up five or six, and we debated for hours before deciding on two tomatoes, two cucumbers with trellises, and two squash.

That plan fell to pieces when she informed me Grandpa Henry was coming over Saturday to build us some boxes.

She wore me down until I agreed, and she ran to the computer, to look at ideas for the boxes. I looked at Mom and she grinned. "He was almost as excited as she was. I don't you know if you remember Ros telling about how they missed not having a daughter, and he feels like it was a gift from God, his words, that she came into their lives. Instead of getting a daughter he gets a de facto granddaughter, but he says it's even better. This way he can sugar her up, get her all hyper, and send her home to us when she gets on his nerves, but I doubt that will ever happen."

"This is going a little fast, don't you think?"

"I do, but it's the way the whole family is. If they're in, they're in all the way, and it would probably be good for Carrie to have a positive male model in her life."

She had me there. After her father, Carrie had a hard time dealing with any man, even the ones that meant her no harm. I took her to therapy for almost two years, and it helped, but she was still wary.

Seven came way too early Saturday morning, and Carrie practically dragged me out of bed. "Get up, Mom! They'll be here soon." I stumbled into the kitchen and Mom smirked at me, pointing to the coffeepot.

I was about halfway through the cup when I heard the truck. Carrie dashed to the door and we followed more slowly. There was a big pickup in the driveway, with a load of planks sticking out of the bed. One of the biggest men I'd ever seen got out of the drivers' seat. I found out later he was six feet six inches tall, and he weighed around two eighty, which didn't make him look fat on that large frame. He had a beard, a ball cap, and looked like a redneck on growth hormones.

Carrie squealed and jumped into his arms, surprising me no end. She was on his hip when he walked up the driveway, and his grin was as big as hers. He stuck out his huge paw.