Nobody Knows Your Secret

59

I saw you there among the trees.

The whisp'ring winds,

A gentle breeze.

My true love waits among the leaves,

Amid the hills of the whisp'ring breeze.

The winds tell you I will come back

To take you home to mountains black.

The winds, they tell of pure delights,

Of sunny days and endless nights.

My true love waits among the trees.

You listen to the whisp'ring breeze.

You stand alone.

Pray on your knees.

You cannot know Death's taken me.

My ghost walks now among the trees

With the whispering winds and the gentle breeze.

You speak of times. Such pure delight.

Of sunny days and endless nights.

The whisp'ring winds, among the leaves,

My true love waits. She waits for me.

The crowd was large; the applause was loud.

"That was Hobie Stricker and the Speckled Pups. Thanks for listenin' to our broadcast today at WAMR 89.5. Hope you enjoyed that song by Declan Wilson. 

He wrote it special for Ruth Elliot, dedicated to her and played for you for the first time, today. Thank ya, Hobie. That was a fine rendition. 

Now, let's take a minute and remind you to come on down to The Band-Aid. Buy something, folks. Proceeds go to a good cause. The animals in our area need all the help we can give them. Take us on out, Hobie. Here he is, folks. Hobie Stricker."

Hobie stepped up to the mike and lit into a bright, toe-tapping tune.

"Don't you just love the fast ones," Maury said.

"I love the fast one, the sad ones," Hadley said, "and the slow ones that pull my heart strings right out of my nostrils. Hobie Stricker is the absolute best in my book."

"And your little tune wasn't too shabby either, Doc," Maury said.

"Let's go over to the Spoon and celebrate," Declan said.

"It's going to have to be a late supper," Ruth said. "This crowd will hang around until dark. Hobie always draws them in. They ask for more, and Hobie generously plays. I don't know what I'd do without him. I've been able to afford so many more supplies since we started this little venture."

"I think Hobie gets as much as he gives," said Declan. "He's in his element up there on that porch."

"He does look happy, doesn't he," Ruth said. "You know, I've never noticed it until today, but watch Hobie's eyes. He seems to smile his brightest when he's looking at Hadley."

"Ruth Elliot," Declan said, "you're as bad as my match-making maternal grandmother."

"Was she successful in her profession?" Ruth asked.

"She introduced me to my first wife," Declan said.

Ruth was taken aback. First wife implied a second. Declan hadn't mentioned being married. In fact, he never talked much about his life at all.

"I'm sorry," Declan said. "How stupid of me. Of course, you couldn't know. My first wife divorced me after three years. I've been married to my second wife, Clarissa, for 12 years. Clarissa and I have sort of . . . how do I say this? We've drifted our separate ways over the years."

"You're married," Ruth said.

"Separated," said Declan.

"Oh," Ruth said.

She should have known there had to be a catch. Declan Wilson was just too good to be true. And after her disastrous relationship with Bobbie Joe Elliott, you'd think she would have learned a thing or two. How could she fall for the wrong guy, again?

"I'm really sorry, Declan, but I've got to see about things in The Band-Aid."

"Are we on for tonight?"

"We'll see," Ruth said. "There are so many loose ends that I have to tie up this afternoon."

"Call me," Declan said.

Ruth waved and disappeared into the shop.

 Declan looked over the crowd. It was a fantastic turnout. The day couldn't have gone any better. Any better, that is, until he mentioned being married. Declan stubbed the toe of his boot into the ground. It looked like another lonely night in Motelville.