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Authors: Mariah Stewart

Tags: #Celebrity, #British Hero, #Music Industry

Moments In Time (25 page)

BOOK: Moments In Time
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18

 

 

M
AGGIE SIGHED, RELUCTANT NOW TO TURN HER INWARD
sight from the glow of the memory.
Those were the best years of my life, settling into the house, having the children, and living out those carefree days, so full of love and the tiny joys of everyday routines. Did I treasure them for what they were? Savor the sweetness of those days even as they passed? God, but we had everything

love and youth and time.

She was powerless to look away from those early times, those dearest times, when the children had started to arrive in such rapid succession, each a miracle of love in his or her own right. Starting with Jesse.
God, but I’d been scared to death, that first time, but oh, how beautiful it had been. How beautiful that whole first year together had been

 

 


I
have to hand it to you, Maggie,” Caroline said as they dragged the Christmas tree in through the front door. “I never would have believed this place would have been habitable this quickly.”

“Maggie beat the contractor’s men into a frenzy. Believe me, Caro, she was unmerciful,” J.D. told her. “And just
when they thought they were almost through, she made them start on the second floor.”

“Amazing.” Caroline shook her head in wonderment, the change in the house had been so dramatic.

“So was the bill,” J.D. told her.

“It was worth it every penny, and you know it.” Maggie grinned at him and again admired the finished result.

The sitting room, where they’d decided to put the Christmas tree, had been transformed from a dark, dingy cave into a cozy nest. The carpet was a thick, deep rose wool, the loveseat and sofa, both large, comfortable overstuffed pieces, had been covered with a dark green fabric sporting florals in Maggie’s favorite shades of rose and lavender and cream, the walls, a gentle rose and white stripe. Two small wing chairs on either side of the fireplace had tiny checks of rose and cream, each home to a needlepoint pillow in a rose design made by Luke as a housewarming gift. Shutters painted cream covered the lower sashes of the windows, the tops draped with a simple swag of lace. Pictures found in the attic hung once again on the walls, and a collection of old hand-painted porcelain teapots, found wrapped in newspapers dated 1931 and stashed in a box in a second-floor closet, paraded across the mantle, interspersed with boughs of white pine and bunches of dried baby’s breath and roses, like tiny nosegays. Maggie’d had J.D. assist her in hanging ropes of white pine around the lace-covered windows. The effect was lovely. Even Miss Whiteside would have approved.

Maggie dragged a box into the sitting room from the hallway and went back out and returned with some paper bags.

“Christmas ornaments,” she said to Caroline. “These, in the boxes, were in the attic. Wait till you see.”

J.D. finished putting the tree in the stand and secured it, then went into the kitchen and made coffee while Maggie showed Caroline her treasures. Maggie had found the finely blown glass ornaments, colored, sequined, and feathered, in a trunk in an attic alcove. She opened the bags of new
decorations she’d bought, and they discussed where to put what. J.D. returned with three coffee mugs.

“Jamey, here,” she said, handing him an object wrapped in tissue. “Be very careful, please, when you put her on the top of the tree.”

He gently unwrapped the paper to find a beautiful angel, bisque face and golden hair, white satin dress, and wings like gossamer.

“She’s lovely, Maggie. Where did you find her?” he asked.

“In the trunk with the other Christmas things. I took her to the dry cleaner’s to have her dress and wings cleaned up. I was afraid I’d ruin her. She is perfect, isn’t she?” Maggie beamed as J.D. placed the angel at the top of the tree.

“So, what do you hear from Rick?” Caroline asked as she fastened a small glass parrot onto a branch.

“Hmmm?” Maggie was digging absentmindedly in a box from which she extracted a glass Santa. “Oh, Rick. Not a whole lot. We saw him on and off last summer, but I haven’t talked to him in a few months. Why do you ask?”

“No particular reason.”

“Here, Caro, hang this one with the feathers up there,” Maggie pointed toward the top of the tree.

“Is he still seeing Lindy?” Caro stepped onto a small stool to reach the designated branch.

“Far as I know he is, when he’s here.” Maggie put down the box and stole a sideward glance at Caroline. “Why the sudden interest?”

“I just haven’t seen Lindy in a while and was curious, that’s all,” she said, shrugging casually. “How about we put those sparkly angels on the upper branches, like a heavenly choir.”

“Perfect,” said Maggie, beaming happily. “This will be the most perfect Christmas tree ever.”

Later, when Caroline had left, J.D. put Christmas carols on the stereo and joined Maggie on the floor in front of the fireplace. The faint glow of the fire draped its soft sheen across the room. The shadows from the
crèche
figures on a nearby table were magically cast by the pale light onto the far wall, the dim forms of Joseph, Mary, and the shepherds
looming as enormous, eerie shapes that seemed to move slightly as the flames flickered.

“So, what is it that has you so deeply wrapped in thought?” he asked.

“Christmas. The baby. The house. You,” she replied. “I never knew just how good it could get.”

He pulled her closer, resting her head on his shoulder. “Do you realize,” she asked, “this time last year we didn’t even know each other? And now here we are, settled into our own home, our baby a little more than a month away. It’s absolutely mind-boggling.”

“Hmm, amazing,” he agreed. “You are aware, of course, that this will be the last Christmas when things will be this tranquil, aren’t you? That by this time next year, young Jesse will be crawling around and grabbing at the tree and playing havoc with the decorations? And, I’d venture, there will be a mountain of toys for the young master next year.”

“This year,” she laughed and reached over to the shopping bag near the chair and pulled out a large, soft brown bear, a huge red satin bow tied around its fuzzy neck. “Jesse’s first bear.”

She propped him under the tree, and they sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the recorded choir.

“It’s magical,” he said softly. “It’s a magical season and a magical night. And just think, we have your left ankle to thank for all this.”

She smiled and snuggled down farther in his arms.

“And your eyes. Your emerald eyes. They’re so beautiful. Especially in this light, with the fire so close,” he said thoughtfully.

The words came to him in a rush and with an amused Maggie watching, he grabbed the first piece of paper he could find and wrote them down:

Pools of fire, draw me near.

Whisper, only I can hear.

Green eyes shining in the night,

Warm me with their gentle light.

Softly, softly, call my name…

Green eyes burning with the flame.

Dreams that hold me, in your eyes I see

Pools of fire that beckon me.

And so “Pools of Fire,” his first solo hit song, was written on the back of a Christmas card envelope, a loving tribute to his wife and to the quiet night they shared as their first year together wound to a close. It had hit the charts two weeks after its release and had stayed at the number one spot for well over a month. Unfortunately, it would be his last hit record for almost three years.

 

 

A
n insistent pressure in her abdomen woke Maggie early on the morning of the tenth of February, 1976, and she panicked momentarily, halfheartedly praying for one more day. In spite of all her reading and the natural childbirth classes they’d attended at the local hospital, she was scared silly. She rose silently, remembering she was to time the contractions, and searched through a dresser drawer for the stopwatch she’d used when she had been serious about her running. Those days seemed so long ago. She prayed she wouldn’t be in labor this time tomorrow.

As it was, she was blessed with a relatively short labor and an uncomplicated delivery. Jesse David Borders was bo
rn
right before dinnertime, much to the delight of his parents. He was healthy and beautiful, vocal and alert. One of Maggie’s fondest memories throughout her lifetime was the image of J.D. in the delivery room, holding the small bundle that was their first child, speaking softly to him and watching the baby follow the sound until father and son were eye to eye, baby staring intently, father with tears in his eyes and on his face.

Ravenous after the intense physical activity of the day, Maggie ate the dinner that the nurse brought her, then sent J.D. out to get her a roast beef sandwich from the local ale house. She devoured it and part of his as well.

Jesse was ravenous, too, they found, when the nurse
brought him to her for his first meal. Maggie held him to her, and his mouth sought her frantically. She jumped as he began to nurse.

“Take it easy, little boy.” She laughed and looked up at J.D. “He’s got a mouth like a little vacuum cleaner. Slow down, baby.”

She nuzzled his soft head and watched him nurse blissfully, his eyes closed and his tiny hand clenched in a fist. A light flashed before her eyes, and she looked up to see J.D. with the camera.

“Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re one of those dads who has to capture every moment with his camera.”

He laughed good-naturedly. “Not every moment, Maggie, but this one is special. You look so beautiful. And he’s so beautiful. It’s a lovely sight, you and Jess.”

“You look a bit misty-eyed, Jamey,” she observed.

“No doubt,” he admitted. “It’s been a big day for all of us. And we have this lovely little boy. What a miracle it all is, Maggie. Watching his birth was fascinating, but it all went too quickly. I’ve not had time to reflect on it until now. Seeing you hold him, nursing him, he seems such a part of you. Such a part of us. It’s absolutely incredible.”

“Do you want to hold him?” she asked.

“Is he finished with his dinner?”

“I guess so. He’s asleep.” She handed the tiny infant into his father’s arms.

“He’s just adorable, if I do say so. Who do you think he looks like? Do you think he looks like me?”

“Maybe. I can’t tell, truthfully. He reminds me a bit of Kevin when he was a baby, but I really can’t tell.”

She smiled as he seemed not to hear her, so lost was he in their son. When he looked back at her, she motioned to the side of the bed for him to sit down next to her. She leaned over and put her arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For all of it. For loving me. And for Jesse. And for being with me all through this.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, are you kidding? This was the happiest, most exciting day of my life, Maggie.”

“Time for the youngster to go back to the nursery,” announced the nurse who appeared in the doorway.

“So soon?” Maggie was reluctant to let him go.

“He’ll be back soon enough for a snack. You might want to get some rest.”

“Rest? I’m high as a kite. Let’s call my folks and Caroline and Lindy and your mother and Judith and Rick,” she suggested, “and Frankie. I want to talk to Frankie.”

 

 

B
y the time their first anniversary was but three weeks away, J.D. was itching to go back to London, having spent a good part of every day working steadily in his little home studio—a small outbuilding set back behind the house that had at one time served as a stable. He was working on some songs he’d offered to write for Rick, who had done absolutely nothing, workwise, since the band had split up. J.D. had hoped that the half-dozen songs he’d written for Rick would spur him back into the studio.

“Why can’t you and Rick do that here?” she asked. “What’s the point in spending all that money for a studio and then have to go someplace else anyway?”

“It’s Rick’s project. And even if he is ready to record and wanted to do it here, we’ll need engineers and other musicians, Maggie. The studio’s been a godsend, but he’ll need live musicians. And left to his own devices, Rick may not make an effort to even look at this stuff. Besides, it’s time Jesse met his other grandmother and the rest of his family.”

“Well, I can’t argue with that. Luke’s absolutely dying to see the baby, but if Rick doesn’t want to work, that’s his business, don’t you think?”

“Rick is lazy and irresponsible and would party his life away. Working will keep him out of trouble.”
If it isn’t already too late,
he told himself, disturbed by rumors passed along by mutual friends.

And so they spent the next two and a half months visiting
with Luke, who adored Jesse and was grateful for the opportunity to have the family with her. When J.D. suggested he and Maggie look for a small house to rent for the duration of their stay, Luke had bristled indignantly, and Maggie supported her, preferring her mother-in-law’s company and home to a house some miles away. As long as Luke wanted them, they would stay with her. And the added bonus was that she proved to be a wonderful baby-sitter.

While J.D. stayed in London, Maggie sketched out her property back in the States, noting sunny spots and shaded areas, and Judith helped her draw up some plans for Maggie’s garden. Several nights a week J.D. returned for the evening but took Maggie back into London with him in the mornings, leaving the baby with a delighted Luke. The visit had been a happy one for Maggie as well as J.D., who was well pleased with the way Rick’s album turned out. J.D. had played on only two cuts but had lent his production experience to the project, which meant essentially letting Rick be Rick. The end result was a spectacular series of guitar solos that enhanced Rick’s reputation as a craftsman and an innovator and earned him a platinum record and numerous assorted awards for his efforts.

Maggie and J.D. had a party to celebrate their first anniversary as well as Jesse’s birth, pictures of which landed in a London newspaper. It had irked Maggie relentlessly that a photo of Glory Fielding, taken at the studio party celebrating the completion of Rick’s album, had appeared on the same page. Beautiful Glory, standing between Rick and J.D., an arm around both of them, her golden blond head tilted in J.D.’s direction. He had sworn he’d barely spoken to her all night and had been on his way out when she had nabbed both him and Rick and had swung in the direction of the ever-lurking photographer.

Soon it was almost November, time for them to leave. Luke reluctantly relinquished Jesse at the airport.

“He’s such a love, J.D., and ever so much more pleasant than you were as a baby,” she mused, confiding to Maggie, “J.D. was an absolute terror from the day he was bo
rn
until he was well past four.”

“You’re welcome to come back with us,” Maggie told her. “It would be wonderful to have you visit.”

“Oh, Maggie, I’d love to,” Luke said, shaking her head, “but I’m afraid not even this darling baby could coax me across the ocean in a man-made bird.”

When they were back in their own house and stretched out in their bed, she asked, “When will you be starting to work on your own album?”

“Probably right after the New Year.”

“Oh, bother.” She wrinkled her nose and groaned.

“Now what was that for?” he said.

“It would appear Jess is going to have a sibling,” she announced, awaiting his reaction.

“What? So soon?” He sat up in surprise.

“I’d expect to hear that from my mother, but not from you,” she laughed.

“When?”

“I’ll have to check with the doctor to be certain, but I suspect around July.”

“How did that happen?” he asked.

“The same way it happened the last time.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think it always happens the same way, Jamey.”

“Another baby.” He plopped back on the pillow, pondering the news.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, of course not. It’s wonderful. I just hadn’t expected it so soon, that’s all.”

“Neither did I.” She propped herself up onto one elbow. “But all the symptoms are there, and I feel just like I did the last time. So I’m sure.”

“Well,” he said, pulling her close and snuggling her, “any guess as to what this one will be?”

“It’s another boy,” she said with deliberate nonchalance.

“Oh, is it now?” he mused.

“Yes. It is.”

“Do I get to name this one, or does he come, as his brother did, with a name?”

“Tyler. James Tyler,” she yawned, stretching out next to him.

“But what if it’s a girl?”

“It isn’t. But if it is, you can choose any name you like, okay?”

“I think we made this deal last time,” he recalled, laughing.

The following July, James Tyler Borders arrived just in time to help his parents celebrate their second wedding anniversary.

BOOK: Moments In Time
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