This is the first time I've written a short story that potentially wraps up a book that's still in the outlining process. In other words, I haven't started the manuscript yet, but I'm giving a bit of a back story at the end of it. At this point, I don't have plans for the book to be titled
Stardust, and I don't really know where it's going until I start writing it. I just have an idea and I'm sharing part of it (but the protagonist will see Ava again).
Nat King Cole's version of
Stardust (originally composed by Hoagy Carmichael, lyrics by Mitchell Parish) was the song I had in my head when writing this. Thanks to all for reading, and as always, copyright applies (©Veronica Randolph Batterson).
Stardust
By Veronica Randolph
Batterson
(©Veronica Randolph Batterson)
“That’s yours,” he
told the waitress as she brought his change to the table.
“Thanks,” she
smiled, trying to strike up the nerve for conversation. “It’s just that me and the others, well, we’re
certain we’ve seen ye somewhere before.”
“I’ve often been
told I look like somebody,” he replied, shrugging. “Casualty of having a common
face, I guess.”
“Aye, a casualty
maybe, but your face isn’t common, I promise ye,” she winked and sashayed back
to the counter, whispering to two other women who had been working that
afternoon. They glanced his way.
He thought they
were around his daughter’s age, much too young to remember who he was, and he
certainly didn’t look as he did three decades earlier at the height of when
everyone knew his name. He’d primarily
stayed out of the public eye by choice since then and was photographed very
little. It would surprise him if they
knew.
Then as if he
needed reminding, the background music in the little café nudged him toward his
purpose. The song began, stirring
memories. He grabbed his keys, got his
coffee to go and strode outside.
And now the purple dusk
of twilight time
Steals across the
meadows of my heart
High up in the sky the
little stars climb
Always reminding me
that we’re apart
He walked the sidewalks of Pitlochry,
glancing into stores, recalling how the town used to be, and delaying the
inevitable. He had been in Scotland a
little over twenty-four hours, yet still hadn’t found the courage to see her. The flight from L.A. had been tiresome and
when he landed in Edinburgh, all he wanted to do was go to the hotel, catch up
on his sleep and figure out what he’d say once he lost the fear of facing her. Instead, he took the rental car and headed
for the Highlands to clear his head and think.
The more he drove, the farther away he was from the woman he’d traveled over
five thousand miles to see again. One
more day didn’t matter to the twenty-five years that had already passed.
His first stop the
morning he arrived had been in Callander, just shy of the Trossachs where he
had spent summers as a seasonal ranger in the park. It had been a while, but driving the hills of
his youth came back to him naturally, as did driving on the other side of the
road. His behind the wheel experience
began at the age of fourteen when his dad suffered a broken leg, and no one
else had been around to make the trek to the hospital. He’d maneuvered the roads as well as could be
expected and, for his efforts, had been rewarded a birthday present one month
early. A guitar. He knew it had taken his father months of
working and saving to afford it. The
instrument helped decide his career path; that decision led him to Ava.
You wander down the
lane and far away
Leaving me a song that
will not die
Love is now the
stardust of yesterday
The music of the years
gone by
Nat King Cole
crooned the song over the radio the first time he saw her, and every time he heard
it his thoughts returned to that time.
He’d found himself in Nashville in 1976, just as his career was getting
started. She was a pretty eighteen-year-old
innocent with a transistor radio to her ear, leaning against a tree as it
played. She hummed and swayed to the
music and instantly he’d felt a connection; a friendship took root that day and
grew into something greater over time.
There was no attempt at impressing him; Ava treated him with genuine
kindheartedness, just as she did everyone else.
It was needed in a business that was starting to suck the life out of
him, even early on; he soaked up every bit of substance she exuded and that
sustained him until demands of the road took him away.
It was nearly
eight years later that they had their first date. By that time, he was burned out with the
music industry, had risen quickly, made the money, needed rehab and was ready to
turn away from all of it. Then Ava
walked back into his life, a young woman with ghosts of her own, and their
relationship took a different turn. He fell
in love.
“Do you remember
this?” he had asked her once, turning up the volume on the car radio as the
Cole song suddenly played.
Sometimes I wonder why
I spend
The lonely night
dreaming of a song
The melody haunts my reverie
And I am once again
with you
When our love was new
And each kiss an
inspiration
But that was long ago
Now my consolation
Is in the stardust of a
song
“Of course. It
came on the radio when we first met. I was so nervous when I saw you, I’m
surprised I remember anything though,” she’d replied.
“You nervous? You
hid it well.”
“An act,” she’d
laughed.
He remembered
taking her hand then and what followed were the happiest eighteen months of his
life. They became inseparable. When he had commitments that couldn’t be
canceled, he made sure she was there with him.
The togetherness and relationship weren’t approved by everyone. Their whirlwind romance was endured much to
the chagrin of Ava’s aunt, along with his long-time agent, Sonny, who usually
didn’t care what anyone did as long as a potential deal wasn’t axed as a
result. Both had expressed displeasure
at them being a couple, often enough for him to suspect their hand in what
ultimately happened.
The last day he ever
saw Ava, she’d been excited to share some news with him. He remembered how happy she seemed. Before she could tell him, Sonny called to
arrange a meeting, saying it was urgent and couldn’t wait. Ava encouraged him to go and said they would
talk that evening. Three hours later she
was gone. It was as if she’d just
disappeared. The vanishing act caused
him to panic and he called everyone they knew, including Sonny and her aunt
Dorothy, asking if she had contacted them.
“Why, honey, I
haven’t seen her. You two have a lovers’
spat?” Dot’s voice had drawled, the southern accent accentuated a little too
much. He’d learned long ago that
southern hospitality was genuine in some, but with Dorothy he had known to
watch his back. Her knives were
sharp. She was as tough as nails, and he
didn’t believe her. Sonny had been no
help either, denying any knowledge of Ava’s whereabouts.
Hours turned into
days; weeks followed, blending into months until a year had passed with no sign
of her. The police found no clues,
ultimately deciding she had left him on her own free will, encouraging him to
move on. He never did. He turned to the only ‘friends’ he trusted at
that time, his old buddies he referred to as alcohol and drugs, once again finding solace in the
vices that Ava had given him reason to leave.
An overdose and breakdown followed, and he spent two months in a detox
facility getting clean and sober. The
day he walked out, he quit the business, fired Sonny, and became a recluse. A marriage and divorce happened, but he never
forgot the woman he loved.
Of all people, it
had been his daughter who found her. Dear
sweet Haley and her tech-savvy boyfriend who, until that point, he’d always
found a little annoying. They broke the
news to him a week ago with Haley giving him a hug and saying before she left,
“Dad, there’s something else, but she owes you that explanation. Go to her.”
He had no idea how Haley had known about Ava, yet she’d made the same
mistake he had all those years ago with the assumption Ava meant something to
an old friend of his. Uncertain what had
given his daughter that notion, his own belief at the time had been driven by stupidity
and insecurity. He had wasted too much
time then, and he was doing so now.
Beside a garden wall
When stars are bright
You are in my arms
The nightingale tells
his fairy tale
A paradise where roses
bloom
He glanced at his
watch; Edinburgh was about an hour and half away. If he left now, he might just miss the worst
of the traffic, have time to check in to his hotel and shower. Beyond that, it was anyone’s guess with much
depending on Ava.
As he drove away,
the sights of Pitlochry behind him, he started to have hope. He’d told himself to expect nothing, but insist
on answers and to walk away with assurances she was happy. He made no promises to himself.
Though I dream in vain
In my heart it will
remain
My stardust melody
The memory of love’s
refrain
(©Veronica Randolph Batterson)
