Voice Of A Nightingale

Adele's Point of View.

"Oh, little Tim, if only you knew what vegetables would do to your body. You would eat them rather than throw them away or secretly give them to your mother." My mother said, that made Timothy's hand freeze in the air. His eyes squinted at his grandmother.

"If I eat them, will you tell me what they do?" Timothy pleaded, then added. "But you don't have to tell me anything if they are bad things." Mom chuckled softly.

"They are not bad things. In fact, I'll tell you the secret then. They make you grow so tall that they might mistake you for a sixteen-year-old fella instead of a five-year-old." She exaggerated and I rolled my eyes. But Timothy was buying it. So help me God, he was buying the lie my mother was feeding him. I chuckled at his widened eyes.

He turned to me, "Did you hear that, Mama? I could be tall like you if I eat my vegetables."

I nodded and ruffled his thick brown hair. Since he was already buying into it all, I might as well contribute to this party of hoping to love vegetable aspiration. "I did, sweetheart. I sure did. It doesn't only make you grow so tall, it also makes your teeth as strong as they can be."

His eyes danced. "Does that mean I get to eat all the candy I can without caring for my teeth?"

I chuckled. "Sure, why not."

He immediately started shoving all the broccoli that could fit into his small mouth, stopping in between heavy bites to drink water. Oh, kids were so gullible.

My sister, Ann, didn't say anything for a while. Her head was drowned by the newspaper in front of her. "Oh my God!" her voice rang loudly, bringing us all to a halt. She then stared up, her eyes apologizing before her voice did. "Sorry. I just... Believe it or not, your name is on the paper. Carlton Perry wrote about you after all. He says your voice can soothe a bruise, and cut tension loose. Wow, that rhymed!"

I sprung to my feet, collecting the newspaper from her at once. She wasn't joking. My name had actually been there. My heart warmed at the beautiful words. Everyone read the paper, did that mean that they were going to see this? Of course, they would.

"Does that mean you're famous now, mama?" Little Tim asked with his mouth full. The excitement and hope in his voice weren't hidden though. My eyes moved to the leaking ceiling and the bucket that accommodated all the water it had to pour since last night and sighed.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't say that I'm famous now baby, just that perhaps I may be drawing attention to myself. That's all."

He frowned. "Isn't that what being famous means?" He asked, staring at me. Waiting for an answer. I shrugged and nodded. Finally giving in to his question. I knew how difficult it was to answer Tim's question. Whenever it started, it didn't seem to stop.

"Yay!" His hands raised up and back down. Something about seeing my son that excited made me excited. If only I could do more...

I raised my gaze from Tim's face and they fell on my mother who had grown unusually silent. She pursed her lips and shook her head. Then placing a careful smile back on, she turned to Tim who seemed like he was contemplating eating the one last broccoli on his plate or losing the challenge that my mother hadn't uttered.

"Come on, Tim, let's go find that sweater of yours before your daddy comes to pick you up."

Tim immediately got up, looking like he was excited to leave the food. He was sick of the veggies. I knew it. That made me want to laugh, but Mom's silence about the newspaper held me back. I wasn't sure it was okay to laugh, yet anyway. When they both disappeared behind the curtain, Ann stared at me.

"What do you think that was about?"

"I have no idea and if I'm being honest, I hate that I don't know. Maybe if I did know, I would have the slightest idea on how to just soothe her. Let her know that it's okay. That it's going to be okay. We are going to be okay. We've always been okay, it's not going to be the last time."

"Yeah, well, I don't know about that," Ann said. Her gaze then flew down to her dinner plate like she had already said enough and shouldn't have spoken at all.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Annie Charity Freeman, I can read you like a book. You can lie to everyone but not me. What did you mean by what you said?"

"What did I say? It was just me trying to be honest about how I'm feeling." She lies again. Her eyes twitched.

I sighed. "Just tell me what the problem is, please. There's something you know that I don't know and you don't want to tell me."

It was her turn to sigh. She stared at me for a while before finally giving in. "We're going to be having neighbors in no time."

What did that mean? I had no idea that my face lined up with a frown on my forehead as I tried to understand what she meant by that. There was nothing but land surrounding our house. It was one thing I loved about the homestead. It had quite the privacy that people so loved. It immediately dawned on me. Were we planning to sell a bit of the land to some people?! "Please don't tell me that Mama is trying to sell the land? You know how much this place meant to Father."

Anne's gaze wouldn't meet mine. My stomach churned from the suspense. Oh, no, it was actually worse. That was not the only thing. It had to be much worse. Everything about Anna's face said so. "I wish it were just a bit of the land we were selling." Anne sighed before breaking more of the bad news to me. "Adele, the house is on the market. It has been for the past one week and as of this minute, we have received calls from interested buyers."

Wait. What?! Having nothing else to do, I laughed. Surely, it was just a joke. But with each rhythm of laughter, Anne's gaze gets more serious. My stomach churned at her face. An unusual lump formed on my throat as I tried to hold in it, it felt more and more impossible to hold in.

"I... Why? I don't understand." My eyes roamed through the dining room. The ceiling. Everywhere brought memories. Everything about this house had the story of my life written on it. Experiences as handwriting. Painful and pleasant. Joyous and angering. It was all here. I sunk into my chair, suddenly no longer in the mood for food. I had once thought that the food on the plate was too small but now, it was like a mountain to finish. I had no idea that my mother had been watching us from the doorway until her voice spoke, making me jump slightly.

"Because we can't afford the money to pay it off anymore. We have nothing else to do but to sell this house. It's either we sell it or we-"

I whirled around, eyes flashing. "We can't pay for it anymore? What's that supposed to mean? What about the savings Dad left in the bank? What about the money he has saved all his life?"

"You mean the five thousand dollars and a button?" My mother asked dryly. Her eyes met mine. Anne just sat still, watching us both. Silently praying that we wouldn't turn the house down in our obvious rage. "Adelita, do you know how much this house cost? Your father's 'savings' would do us no good."

She paused, waiting for me to come up with a comeback. When I didn't, her volume equally came down and she sighed. She went to her seat, her tone was gentle and ready to reason with me. "God knows that your father worked hard all his life. He has always worked hard. For a boy who had nothing to his name, nobody believed that he would actually make it, but he did. He worked with his hands and he bought this house with little he had." My mother swallowed, she was holding back tears. I knew it. Even though she hated crying and showing much affection, whenever it came to my father she was a puddle. "When we bought this house, the mortgage wasn't that huge. We thought we could pay for it. We were so sure, but with each year things just seemed more and more impossible. It was more of hand to mouth and farm to bank." She sniffled loudly. "I mean, the banks are, after all, thieves with a building."

Anne's hand flew over hers. "I'm sorry, mama." Staring at their clasped hands for a long time, before deciding it was probably the source of strength I needed now. I placed my hand over theirs. My mother stared up and smiled at us both.

"I'm sorry too, honey. We could have done better, but we did all we knew we could do. It's all we could do."

"Mama, don't say that. You and Papa gave us everything that you could give. You gave us everything and that is what it is, everything. Nothing less. Definitely something more if you ask me. You are giving Tim all you can. You're a great mother and grandmother, and Papa was a great father. The best actually." That made her smile. Anne nodded I'm agreement, unable to stop the smile that slowly clung to her face.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Mama whispered. And even if I wasn't so sure before, something about that broken whisper gave me all the reassurance I needed.

"And don't worry about the house. I know that's impossible to ask of you but let me just tell you now, that I will do everything I can to see that we don't leave this house. Do you hear me? Everything, I can do. We are not going to leave our home." I said.

Mama and Anne exchanged a glance. "Did you just hear anything I said? Adelita, we have four months to leave this house. We got lucky enough to get the barn out of the deal, we paid that off, and we'll just renovate it. Don't worry about it. Sweetheart, hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money. It's not something you can just get like that. Not without getting another loan. I don't want you getting a loan on my behalf, please dear, let's just take what we have."

I shook my head. "Mama, everything I know is here. This is the place I grew up in. This is the place that I call home. I can't just let it go like that. You have to understand. It's not going to be that simple. I'm not letting go. Not without a fight."

She stared at me for a while. I could tell she was trying her best to remain calm and not flip at me. I was being difficult. Before she asked the question, I had been convinced she would ask, Anne did.

"What are you going to do, Adele?"

"Anything."

***

I had nothing. Absolutely no idea how to save our house. And even though as I walked into the bar, everyone celebrated with me and congratulated me for the achievement of having my name published in the local newspaper and for something good, it couldn't quite wipe out the thought of losing my home. And who was going to tell Tim? It had to be Mama. I wasn't as strong as she was when it came to giving bad news. I didn't trust myself not to break into tears when breaking the news to him.

"Adele Freeman, the stage is yours in fifteen." The bar manager called loudly, making me jump.

Adele's POV

"You look sulky tonight." Amanda announced, her arms coming over my shoulder.

I turned and passed my best friend a small, sad smile. "What are you talking about? My lips had been stretched all evening."

"Yes, but forcibly. You look like you you're somewhere but you don't want to be there."

She knew me too well. "I hay no idea what you're talking about, I definitely am fine."

She punched my shoulders lightly, pulling a laugh from me. She joined in on the laughter but I knew more querying were on the way. Amanda wasn't quite the one to let you win immediately when you are sad. More seriously, she said, "You know you can fool anyone around here but me. Come on, tell me what the problem is."

I sighed, the words hurt as I spoke them out. "We're selling the house."

Amanda stared at me for a while then shook her head, she knew how much the house meant to us. Her father was a friend of mine and we had both heard a lot of stories how hard my father fought for tst house. How he worked those lands. He showed us some scars he'd gotten from tilling. The thought of it alone made my eyes filled. I hated so much that there was nothing I could do. I wanted to do a lot. I wanted to help somehow. And I didn't know how I was going to do that.

"You can't be serious."

My voice shook as I confirmed the gut wrenching news. "Why would I joke with something as serious as that? My mother told me about it this night. I just... I feel like I just can't straighten my thoughts. I am not sure that I want to. Maybe if I do, I'll give in. I will just give in to a fight that I should not. My father has worked so hard and I just can't string two parts of my life together..." I had no idea why, but for some sick reason, I loved that I was punishing myself like that. "my ex is getting married and I'm scared that my son will love this woman so much that he'll forget me. I get to see him two weeks in a month and I want that to stop. My father's dream is about to be snatched by the bank and I can't do anything to stop it." The tears dropped, but before Amanda could wipe them away, my hands did. She was my best friend, yes, but that didn't mean I wanted her pity. I couldn't bear it if she pitied me. It was the last thing I needed at the moment. The last thing I wanted.

"You're punishing yourself for something you have no control over, Adele. You're trying to find comfort in something that you're not supposed to and you might think it's not bad now, but trust me when I say that it is." She sighed. "None of us knew that Timothy was the kind of man. Heck, I'm the observant one of us both and he had me fooled. You were just a girl, fresh from high school and looking for something your parents had."

"Well, I am not even sure I deserved to being the same sentence with my parents when it comes to the sense of romance. My parents were married for twenty-five years. I was only married for two years and if I am being honest, it was the worse years of my life. I kept trying to fix someone that didn't want to be fixed."

"But look at the bright side, you were given little Tim."

I smiled at my boy's smile. The one that always kept me going whenever I wanted to give up. I sighed, smiling sadly at Amanda. "You're right. I'm sorry. With Everything going on now, my emotion is just all over the place. I mean I was only told this evening, I can only imagine how Mama that has known all these while is feeling."

Amanda stared at me for a while, then smiled sympathetically. "Focus on one thing at a time. Your mind is all over the place, that's not good for your health."

"I'm naturally a thinker. I was born that way."

"Your countless sleepless nights has made you believe so. You just need a good night's sleep and you'll be delightful to go."

I hummed at the thought of sleep. I needed that. I also knew that I had to make it home quick before Timothy came for little Tim.

Like he had been reading my mind, the manager called once more from the darkened corner. "Adelita Freeman, three minutes before you're up." The small crowd clapped and hollered. Their welcoming and celebration for my performance warmed my heart.

"I have something to tell you but I know that if I say it, you are going to flip it. Like really really flip." I squinted at her and she chuckled nervously.

"I just want you to promise me that you won't get mad." She said. I immediately wiped the remaining tears that clung to my eyelashes.

"I don't know what you mean by that and if I'm being honest, I don't like it. At all."

"Okay, but just promise me first."

"No. Why will I promise you something like that when I don't know what you're trying to ask of me. You could be asking for me to do something I have sworn a no to."

Amanda sighed and raised her hands up above her head. "You make everything hard, do you know that?"

"Amanda, please just tell me what the problem is. I'm very curious and it's only making my headache unbearable." I said, trying to sooth down the headache with a massage. It wasn't working. "If it's bad, I'll never stay mad at you for long."

She sighed and then confessed with a dry voice, "I may have or have not invited my cousin to this bar for your sake. My very single cousin."

I glaresd at her. "Why would you do that? I specifically told you not to stop with the matchmaking, didn't I?"

She rushed to explain. "I know, I know. I just, well, I don't want you feeling lonely."

"Who says I'm lonely?"

"You. Your countenance says it all. Your lips are too proud to say it, but I know that you want to date again."

"I don't want to date!"

"You do, you just don't want to say it."

"Amanda, I am healing from a very crazy thing I called marriage. It's been barely three years, you think I want to go through that pain again?"

"But not all people that are in a relationship is in pain, though. You should know. I am in a relationship and I'm not in pain."

Something about the way she said it made me angry. "You're being cocky, Amanda."

"And you're being stereotypical!" Her voice was loud, earning us some looks. Just as I opened my mouth to say something, anything, I had no idea what though, the manager's voice rang from the darkened corner.

"Adelita Freeman. You're up!" A crazy cheer began and it only grew louder by the second. I sighed softly and passed Amanda one last look before I proceeded to sing something. Anything. On that stage, as I had not practiced, I only hoped that I wouldn't flop tonight. Disappoint the small crowd.

"All I ask is that you give me a little time before you decide if I'm ready for a relationship or not, that's all I ask."

With each step, my legs shook and my breath quickened, so did my heartbeat. My voice suddenly felt hoarse as I lifted the microphone to speak a little. "How are y'all doing tonight?!" Somehow, I was able to feign boldness and appear convincing. The crowd applauded again.

"I usually sing about good times and happiness and just joy, that I seem to have forgotten that somethings are not being tended to." I said, they had grown quiet. Waiting for my words. My voice. My lyrics. For a while, the pace of my heartbeat almost out shaddowded my own voice from my ear.

"What about the people that need a little bit of attention in their sadness?" The crowd stayed silent. "What about those that are hurting so bad, they don't want anyone to see?" This time around, a few hollering came from the back of the room. I recognized one voice. It was Amanda's. I smiled softly at her and she did too. We fight and we reconcile, that has to be it.

"If you're here and you're feeling a little bit of sadness, this is for you." This time around, everyone applauded.

When they grew silent again, waiting for me to sing. I did. But I had not quite expected the night to had paced the way it did. I had never considered myself a slow singer. A soul song singer, yet when I opened my mouth, singing my father's favorite song, tissues were being distributed by the waiters.

I finished with a high note and the room was quiet for a while, then a powerful applause came. It didn't stop even when I had walked down the stage.

I felt an hand over my shoulders. I turned and found Ted, the grouchy manager peering down at me with tenderness. "I liked that song." He then smiled at me. He looked like he more than just 'liked' it but I wasn't going to push my luck. I was going to just enjoy his kindness tonight, for I knew that his grumpiness would return in the morning. She turned and entered his office before I could say anything. He was shy, I realized. And he hated it. I chuckled. I turned to go back to my seat but a man was standing in front of me. His hands were folded over his breast and his smile... Genuine.

"Um... Good evening?" I said, uncertain about his stance. His smile deepened and he pursed his lips.

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, miss..."

"Freeman. Adelita Freeman."

"Yes, miss Freeman." He said, scratching his mustache with a confident smirk. I feel like I knew him from somewhere. But where? "Let me go straight to the point, Miss Freeman. You can sing. You can really sing. And I love the way you don't try to sound like anybody else. You want to sound original."

He was correct. If there was one thing my father had always encouraged me in, was to continue in my own sound and not try to copy another singer. He'd given me that advice when an eight year old me wanted badly to sound like a mini Amy Grant. The fact that he could spot that made me curious. Very curious. And I hated that confident smile that refused to leave his face.

"How are you so sure I'm not trying to sound like someone else? A local singer perhaps. Someone you've never heard of." I said and he chuckled.

"I know an original when I see one."

"You can't be do sure."

"Child, I have produced songs for half of my life and I've orchestrated Broadway. I know genuine talent when I see one."

"Mr..."

"Dilton."

"Dilton who?"

"Just Dilton." He said with a straight face. Was he trying to be mysterious? It wasn't working.

"Oh in that case, Mr Dilton, I'm quite happy for that you have that skill, but if you do not mind, I'm kind of trying to get myself a drink before you came and I still want that drink."

He shrugged, reaching for what I assumed was his wallet. "Well, then let me buy you that drink and entertain you as you drink with reasons why you should be fit for Broadway."

I chuckled, but he didn't join in. It took me a while to realize that the over confident man was not joking.

Adele's POV

Me? Broadway? No way.

I cleared my airway and decided to say something, anything, when he wouldn't stop staring at me intently.

"I don't want to sound like a downer, sir, but I appreciate your attempt to flatter me. Really, I do. If it wasn't that your suits didn't look too expensive to be taken care of by cheap fees I would have encouraged you to fill the form. We have a vacant spot for comedian." I said and gestured for the waiter to get me my usual: orange juice with grapes on top. It always made my night.

The man chuckled softly. "Ah, well, I don't actually mind getting in some side hustle."

"That's good to hear."

"But I'm not joking though. I know it sounds crazy for a man to walk up to you and start talking about you being fit for Broadway-"

I shrugged. "Well, if you know just how crazy it is then why did you offer anyway?"

"Because you have the gift. And not only do you have the gift, child, you have the passion for it. I have been to a lot of concerts and only a few of the well known, sophisticated singers can make me feel what you just made the crowd feel."

I stared at him for a long time, this time there were no traces of smile on his face. Good Lord, he was serious. My heart started beating so loudly I could hardly hear my the distant chatters happening around us. I was excited. I was scared too. I was a lot of things all in that moment, but one the things I knew that surpassed all the others was suprise. Why me? Why did it have to be me?

I sat down on one of the stools that lined up infront of the bar. The man joined in.

"You need a moment to sink all of that in, I get you."

I chuckled nervously. "Oh, I need more than just a moment. I need all the time I could ever need in this world. This is big. This is more than big!"

He nodded in agreement, but the look on his face was one of disagreement. "It is a big deal, but unfortunately, child, time waits for no one."

"I have a lot of questions."

He looked around the bar as if to say 'we had time, what was stopping us?'.

"Why me? I mean if you have the connection you say you do, then why me? Why does it have to be me? I know that there are a lot of take red people out there that are more better than me. My vocals seem to be growing weaker and weaker by the day, you could choose anyone. I mean, two singers sung before me, why wasn't it them?"

"I might have already approached them, but how will you know that?" He said.

"Oh." That was all I could utter. Guess I wasn't that special after all.

"But just to answer your question and let your scrambled mind rest, you should know that you are the only one that I have approached. You are the only one that I plan to approach."

"Why?"

He chuckled. "You know you ask a lot of questions."

"I haven't even started with the real questions yet."

"I came to you because you have what we are looking for. You have that spark, that groove, that passion. And trust me when I say that groove has nothing to do with upbeat, just authenticity. You knew what you were supposed to do and you gave it all. That is what we want."

"Who is 'we'?" I asked and he slid a card from his pocket and held it out infront of me.

"Mesmerize Academy. It's an entertainment school based in Los Angeles. In a blink of an eye, you could find yourself in Hollywood. In a matter of months, if you do well, you could be the next face on top billboards. The story could be: small town girl makes Broadway look simple. People would go crazy to see a show like that."

I squinted at him while taking the card. He looked fun. Laid back, but perhaps a bit too over confident for my liking. I was going to let the excitement of going for Broadway cloud my judgement just for a while.

"I don't know what to say to that. To any of this, seriously. The plan was just to come over and sing like I usually do. Broadway was not the plan."

"Yeah, you know the saying. We make plans, God laughs." Mr. Dilton's eye shone as our drinks finally made it to us. He took a rather long sip from his glass.

"So what do you say, Miss Adeline?"

"Adelita." I corrected.

"Sorry, what do you say, Miss Adelita?"

"I can't possibly give you an answer right now. I need to think about everything, if that's okay with you."

He stared at me for a while, then chuckled. "Okay, well, what if I told you that you have to give me an answer right now? What would you say then?"

"I'd give you your card back and wish you a great night." He tilted his head to the side at my curt reply. "You can't just expect me to say yes the same night you made an offer. You should know I have a life here. I have other engagements. Things I need to take care of."

"Oh, she's got spirit. Anders is going to love this. This should be good." He muttered, but not low enough if I could still hear him. The more louder he joined, "If I may ask, what engagements do you speak of?"

I paused. Should I tell him the truth? I mean maybe if he knew about little Tim, he would ask me to forget about it all. But that was okay. I would rather do that than deny my own son. "I have a son."

He nodded slowly. I couldn't tell if he was surprised or not, as his face was carefully without expression. "How old is he?"

"Does answering that question somehow make me qualify for Broadway?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "No, I just want to know."

"He's five. Well, he's almost five but he insists his five, so we tell him he's five."

He smiled. "I could still remember me doing that to my mom. I just wanted to be seven already. I was tired of being a child. If only I knew how lucky I was to be a child." He said and for the first time that night, a genuine laugh rumbled. He continued, "how old are you?"

Without hesitation, "twenty three. I'll be twenty four soon, if that piece of information does any help..." I hesitated. "Let it."

"Your age is perfect. And your voice is great, your posture is bendable. It's like this role was made for you, dear." With one more gulp of his drink, he stood up. "Tell me you will think about it."

I nodded. "I will."

***

My feets ached from all the running but I couldn't bear to go a week away from Tim without saying goodbye. I hadn't realized it had been that late until I looked up and the time was ticking by. I was late. Just as I made my way to the house, my eyes missing the car already parked outside, his tiny voice called out.

"Mummy! You made it." He came running from the car, his hands spread. I bent down just do his small hands could envelope my neck in a hug.

"Of course I did, baby. I told you that I would be here right?"

"Well, you're late." He scolded, reminding me of myself at his age.

"I'm sorry." I chuckled. We maintained that posture for a few more seconds before Timothy cleared his throat behind little Tim.

With one last kiss to little Tim's head, he raced back to the car, giving his dad and I time to talk. I wish he didn't have to give us this awkward moment alone called privacy. I hated being alone with Timothy.

We stared at each other for a while. He broke the silence. "Congratulations."

Wait! What? Did he hear about the news already? "On what?"

"You were mentioned in the newspaper."

"Oh, right. That. Thank you."

He stared at the car, then back at me. "Without saying a word, I know you're worried about him. But don't worry, my eyes are with him all the time." I nodded. Feeling guilty because for the first time in five years, I was thinking about me before little Tim. I knew I was going to call Dilton and take they offer. But it was a mix feeling of guilt and excitement. I had no idea what waited for me even though I could almost reach out and take a hold of it.

I gave Timothy a smile. "I know you will."