Nightchild

Chapter 33

In the blink of an eye, spring had turned into the glum dog days of summer. The pace of life at the ranch had slowed with the searing heat and windless days, so different from the hectic, blustery ones when there had never been enough hours to complete the tasks at hand.

Nate had performed two concerts, taking Blythe with him and after changing labels, was ready to release his third album, co-producing it. He insisted on including, against everyone's wishes, "Blythe's Song" which he'd written for her.

For once, even Blythe agreed with Eddie...as a career move, it wasn't a wise decision. Nate's female fans had not been happy about his marriage and, more than likely, would not respond favorably to a song written for, about, and dedicated to their idol's wife. Though not agreeing with Nate, Blythe couldn't help but love him all the more for standing up to everyone and listening to nothing but his heart.

Recently, most of the hot lazy days had been devoted to meetings and negotiations over the album and new contract. Eddie and J. T. had both been livid when Nate made the decision to change labels because of wanting more control over what went into his albums. But even that now seemed a minute issue when compared to getting Nate to agree with the terms of the new contract he was expected to sign within the week.

For the third time in as many days, Eddie was back at the house, drunk, stoned on coke, belligerent and prepared to stay the night again, unless he and Nathan reached mutually satisfying terms.

At these particular times, Blythe was glad Heathe was present, for he acted as a buffer, keeping Eddie at bay, never allowing him to push too hard for too long. Over the past months, she had made a habit of staying out of sight when Eddie Vega was in the house. She was unable to keep her skin from crawling when she was in the same room with the greasy little man, aware of the way he constantly played both ends against the middle. J.T., Heathe, Nate, Chance...they were all figures on a chessboard to be maneuvered and manipulated for Sweaty-Eddie's benefit.

Often, Blythe wondered how long she could trust herself to remain politely aloof, holding her tongue out of respect for her husband. She was also positive Eddie regarded her with the same concealed, if not more intense, hostility and would gladly nail her to the wall should she ever give him the opportunity.

On this sweltering day, an unseasonable front had blown in, breaking the stifling heat with strong gusts that brought with them the unmistakable smell of rain. White clouds formed, billowing and rolling, turning gray as they built to a crescendo. Occasional quicksilver flashes were followed by deafening blasts, resounding into weaker echoing rumbles.

Blythe watched this with anxious excitement from the workroom upstairs she'd grown to love. She wrote and watched, until her attention was so drawn to the performance of nature's fury, she went onto the balcony to experience its intoxicating frenzy. She had no desire to be downstairs where a storm of a different kind waged over the impending contract, not when she could be here with the wind whipping through her hair and the sky flashing its beauty for her pleasure.

When she couldn't stand still any longer, Blythe headed indoors for her walking shoes, just as the piercing sound of the doorbell jangled through the house, making her jump involuntarily. She finished tying her laces and flew down the stairs almost bumping into Ma.

"Oh, you're still here. I was going to get the door. Who was it?" she asked breathlessly.

"Stayed late to finish dinner. Knew none of you would eat if I didn't force it on you. If you ask me, you young people don't know the first thing about takin' care of yourselves. Now, what did you ask...oh, the door. No one, just a telegram for Mr. Nathan. I'll be getting' ready to leave now. You see to it that he eats somethin'."