ALL ACCESS

Chapter 20

Hullabaloo is going to be a hit. As much as I hated to admit it, Chris really was a genius at lyrics. Of course, having the right musicians create with you was helpful too, especially when one of them was James Roberts, guitar master. I'd listened to the album several times and it only got better with each turn. The guys were finished picking the track listing and now it was time for rehearsals. I just hoped I'd be able to sit with James for the pre-tour interview.

Robyn and I had already been with everyone else. We thought it would be cool to get before and after tour perceptions, predictions, and feelings. Sitting with Chris churned my stomach but having Greg and Robyn there helped. Robyn told Greg and he assured me nothing would happen on this tour – I would not be left alone with Chris. It truly put me at ease. Sitting in with Nick and Derrick had been a hoot – the two had not changed. Now if I could just pin James down.

Rehearsals took place in an old converted barn on James' property. They worked out song arrangements for the live shows and it was amazing. Lighting and sound was next but that would take place in forty-eight hours when we all hit California and the Hullabaloo tour started. Right now, the band had a day to themselves and James had been avoiding me. He was the only one I hadn't interviewed in the past week. With everyone else planning on heading back into Memphis, Robyn and I stayed behind. I was determined to get this interview and Robyn wanted pictures of him around the farm. James didn't seem too happy to see us in the sitting room, he quickly turned tail and stormed back outside and to the fields beyond.

"Pay him no mind. He's been a grump for several weeks now. He'll come around and do the interview." Rose, or as she asked us to call her, Meemaw, winked and gave me a smile. "I'll make sure of that. Now y'all drink yer tea, I have some things I want to show you." Meemaw left the room, which gave me a moment to look at the pictures around the room of James at various ages. Robyn and I smiled at one taken at a lake, holding up his catch of the day, with classmates at school, and his family. The nostalgia of the photos brought tears to my eyes and I moved away quick, swallowing down the large lump in my throat. Meemaw came back, carrying in her arms three large photo albums. She set them down on the coffee table, then sat between Robyn and I, showing us pictures and telling us stories of James.

Two hours later we were swiping away the tears of laughter of another James story. Meemaw had the gift of gab and blessed with an ability to tell a tale. It helped that James was a mischievous child.

"Well, now I know why James doesn't want to do an interview. He was a bit of a rascal." I chuckled but noticed Meemaw didn't smile, her face grew serious. "Are you alright?" I asked. She stood and moved towards the window placing her arthritic hands on the sill.

"He doesn't want to do the tour. It's my fault."

"I doubt that. Why doesn't he want to?"

Meemaw turned and her eyes held tears. "I'm dying."

Robyn gasped and I spilled my tea. "What? No!"

I had only met Meemaw, but I felt close to her. She had a way of making you feel welcomed, a part of the family. Sitting here listening to her family stories, you felt the love and pride she had for them all, especially of James.

"James?"

"Is not taking the news well. He's been so overprotective of me since his Papaw died eight years ago. He said he was quitting but I told him not too, that I was alright for now. I have cancer. Doctors said I had a few months before the disease really takes hold. I told James that when I start failing, we'd call him. I told him to do this tour – for me – music is his passion. It's his life. He gave it up to keep this farm running and to stay with me when Papaw died." Turning towards us Meemaw smiled. "You know he was engaged?"