From Me To You
By Missy

SERIES: Souvenirs
SUBTITLE: From Me To You
FOLLOWS: Souvenirs, Fire With Fire, Bury That Jewel,
High Sierra, Walking Lonely, Blues Along The Way, Balloons Land, Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans, Somewhere Sails, Baby, It's You, So..., Through The Looking Glass, Desertion, I Know You Rider, Midnight Musings, BattleLines, Bright Lights and Promises, Break
PART: 1 of 1
AUTHOR: Missy
EMAIL: lasfic@yahoo.com
RATING: PG, Het
PAIRING(s): L/L

DISTRIBUTION: To LW, Kai, Myself and FG so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine. Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"

Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!
CATEGORY: Drama
FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SETTING IN TIMELINE: California
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Lenny's big night arrives, not without surprises.

****

"I'm gonna throw up."

Laverne stoped pacing for a moment and turned to look Lenny in the eyes. "You're not gonna throw up, Len. You know how good ya are on stage; it's like no one else is out there."

"That's cause I always sing to you," he winced, held his neck as a slight pain throbbed through him. Without delay, she stood behind him, kneading the sore spot. He shivered at her touch, still not used to her gentle hands.

"Well, I'm gonna be there, right in the front row." Hell or high water, Laverne knew that was true. The depressing claustrophobia of the bedroom told her that the moment the contest was over, even if Lenny didn't win the money, they would be taking their beautiful car and driving the hell out of Nashville. This grey place wasn't home; and neither, Laverne was learning, was a life in stasis.

Somewhere in the living room, the phone rang; Laverne pulled her hand from beneath Lenny's collar and released him. "I'll tune up the guitar; you go see who it is."

Lenny nodded, pressing his lips to hers before exiting into the living room.

He found Shirley sitting on the couch, talking pleasantly to someone on the other end of the phone. Poor Shirley; Lenny knew she was unhappy, would stay unhappy until she found her own place in the world. He felt bad about the things he'd thought about her. He and Laverne were in a honeymoon period, and Shirley, in a different place in her life, was probably reminded of herself and Walter. He was ginger with her hand when he took the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hello, yourself."

"Squig!"

"Who else you think was gonna call ya?" Squiggy retorted.

"I wasn't expectin' your call."

"Yeah, I had to call Angie's place and get your new number."

"Don't write it down or nothin', pal. Me and Vernie are headin' home after this."

"I know you are, pal." Silence passed between them. Lenny watched Shirley's nervous face as she crossed the room to take care of the fussy Davy. "Hey Len?"

"Yeah, Squig?"

"Good luck. I know you ain't gonna throw up or forget the words're nothing. You're good at what ya do."

Lenny gulped. "Yeah, thanks, Squiggy."

"I'll see ya some time, then."

"Yeah, I'll look you up."

"Bye."


***


Squiggy's words had carried their desired effect. Lenny was raring to go by the time they arrived at the club. In the pack backstage area, Lenny barely ate, while Laverne nervously consumed a couple of sandwiches. After a few fairly impressive singers did their thing, Lenny's turn arrived.

He would carry with him the sawdust-like scent of the place; the scent of beer a note beneath it. The crowd was a sea of spangles and rhinestones; among them, he saw a cowboy hat, a head of curls, and a glittering blue shirt. Lenny knew that it was Loretta Lynn.

But behind her, like a daisy grown through a sidewalk, sat Laverne.

His hesitation melted away; on a deep breath, with strong motions, he began the song, performed it with every ounce of energy in his body. They were words he'd written in bed for her one morning, and now they were the world's.

"Her Side of The Bed". Something he'd done just to make Laverne smile.

A long silence hung over the stage as his last chord rung in the air. He bent his head over the instrument, exuding a shy submissiveness he didn't really feel.

From the back of the room, applause echoed. It grew until the room was a rainstorm of palms colliding.

Backstage, cheerful hands clapped him on the shoulders, and someone offered him a beer. Abruptly, his face felt hot, as blood rushed back into his head.

He saw Laverne at the edge of the audience, trying to get to him. He reached out for her, but dizziness took him over, and he collapsed onto the floor in a faint.

But he was smiling when he went out.

***

"Son? Son, can you hear me?"

Lenny squinted at the halo around the man's head. What a strange angel. "Is this heaven?"

He hooted, "well, boy, if you call winning our grand prize heaven, I'd say it was!"

Lenny smile weakly. "I won?"

"You sure did!" He felt himself being pulled to his feet, and he shook the hand of the man. He recognized, now, the club's owner. Then Laverne's arms were around him.

"You gotta come on stage; Loretta Lynn's gonna give you a check!"

Lenny felt himself being swept onto the boards, heard the club's owner making his announcement; the audience roared its approval. Suddenly, Loretta Lynn floated up to him from the floor, her blue chiffon bright.

"You're a great singer," she smiled.

"I couldn't do it without Laverne."

"There ain't nothing in this world better than someone who loves you. This girl made you think up the song?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Well, you keep her. You two are gonna make it big one day, you hear?"

Lenny nodded. She pressed the check to his hand as the crowd consumed the building in howls of approval.

***


Laverne would never forget the night she drank a beer with Loretta Lynn. She and Loretta sat there, drinking, as Lenny and Loretta's husband, Doo, signed contracts. She could hardly follow the rapid pace of the conversation, the delightful talk of her children and working with Conway Twitty.

Later, she and Lenny danced an anniversary waltz, which she led him through. She learned, then, that there would be royalties, but the five hundred was theirs to keep. They could leave.

She had quit her job that afternoon, recklessly. For once, such impulsiveness had paid off.

They were light as air when they reached the apartment; Lenny had specifically avoided drinking so they could leave right away. Laverne hadn't bothered to unpack her suitcase; they were ready to leave in an instant.

While Lenny used the bathroom, she discovered a piece of paper by the phone. Shirley's neat scrawl drew her to it.


Dear Laverne, It Read:

I've written this over twice before I decided to be completely honest with you. I can't stand living here, between you and Lenny, behaving like a wedge and exposing Davy to my own sadness.

You're my best friend, Laverne, and nothing will change that, but we've done nothing but fight for days. We've always fought, but never with meanness. I'm ashamed of the things I've said to you, ashamed of the anger I've brought to our relationship.

But now your life is with Lenny, and I need to take responsibility for Davy. If Walter never comes back... There was a smudge on the note at that point, I need to stand on my own two feet. I don't want to be taken care of. We've done nothing but hurt each other over the silliest thing, over vode-o-do-ing, for heaven's sake. I only want you to be careful. I only don't want you to have a baby you're not ready for. But now I understand it's not important. What's important is that we both try to find happiness. I haven't been happy since before I met Walter, as much as I love him. Nashville is such a strange place, and I realize that I need a familiar world with which to start over. So if you need me, I'll welcome your visit at Squiggy's home.

Pray for me, Laverne.

Shirley.

Laverne finished the letter as the sun came up over the Blue Ridge Mountains and their car spun over a covered bridge. Her tears flowed like the river below, unnoticed with Lenny's hoarse singing and the water hammering the rocks below.



To "Break"
To "Wanderers"