Chapter Thirteen, Blue Eyes
Posted by DiF on Saturday, August 13, 2011
Title: Midnight Shift: Chapter Thirteen, Blue Eyes
Rating: R [language, alcohol, and non-sexual nudity]
Summary: The band goes to an industry party where interesting people such as Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan are in attendance, both of whom have a greater role to play than I expected.
Stepping out of the bathroom wearing a powder blue strapless dress, Summer’s eyes went expectantly to Robert’s. Glancing up after slipping one shoe on and picking up the other, his breath caught and he dropped the shoe loudly. Grinning Summer skipped back into the bathroom to get rid of the towel wrapped about her hair. Apparently the silk cotton dip-dyed maxi dress was appropriate for the party they were attending that night. Slipping into the small tiled room behind her, Robert glanced at the counter. At some point Summer had spread all the cosmetics she received on her birthday out on the counter. For a silent moment, he watched her fingers touch each one, perhaps trying to figure out which to try first. Without pause, he swept her wet hair from her shoulder, quickly kissing her exposed shoulder.
“You don’t need any of that,” he muttered. “You are beautiful without.”
Plucking his hand that had drifted down to her breast, Summer replied, “But this party is a big deal, Robert. I don’t need to stand out because I’m—”
“Beautiful? Nothing you ever do will change that, baby,” he declared, kissing her flesh again.
“But everyone else will be—”
“As droll as pavement at night,” Robert stated. “But you are missing something.”
“I am?” she patted herself down in a panic.
“Wait right here,” he instructed before disappearing from the bathroom.
Sighing after he left, Summer picked up a tube of lipstick and opened it. Looking at the waxy red cosmetic, she crinkled her nose and capped it again. Gathering up the miscellaneous objects, she shoved them back into the bag one of the girls gave her. She didn’t want to be like them, not at all. Robert loved her for who she was, not for who they were. If only she could remind herself of that often, she would be okay, but she did realize everything was harder to believe when she was menstruating. It was rather frustrating that this had to happen while she was with Robert too. She only hoped that by the last concert, it would be over so she could once more bathe in his after-concert loving. She needed to get back on birth control too. Maybe she would be able to pull John Paul aside during the party and ask him when they could go to a doctor so she could do that. It was going to be hard to tell Bonzo that she wasn’t pregn—
“Why are you frowning?” Robert’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Her eyes went to his in the mirror, “Just thinking.”
“You don’t need to frown to think,” he responded, slipping behind her. “You don’t need to frown at all.”
He quickly fastened the silver beaded necklace he gifted her with on her birthday and kissed her shoulder again. Glancing at her appearance in the mirror, Robert wasn’t quite satisfied. She needed something a bit different, but he wasn’t entirely sure. As her damp hair curled around his finger, he knew instantly what it was she was missing. Kissing her once more, he instructed her to style her hair and he would return with the final piece needed to complete her outfit before they headed to the Riot House to meet up with the rest of the band for the party. Leaving her be in the bathroom once more, Robert hurried out into the rest of the bungalow. He quickly glanced around and did not see anything that would do, not that it was any surprise as they had not been at the beach house for a few days. Pulling the door open, he glanced around, his eyes falling upon a nearby flowerbed. Seeing a bunch of happy daisies, he knew that was exactly what she needed. Plucking the most perfect ones, which did in fact mean Robert walked the flowerbed twice, he headed back into the small house with a handful of flowers.
Returning to the bathroom, he was pleased to see she had plaited and twisted most of her hair on the crown of her head, a few errant wisps naturally falling about her shoulders. Without a word, Robert began to tuck the flowers into her braid. Summer’s lips parted to ask what he was doing but apparently she thought better of it and remained silent, letting Robert do whatever. It wasn’t until he reached the top of her head with the flowers that she spied the white daisies. He tucked the last one into her hair before meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“Now you will be absolutely unforgettable,” he declared.
Turning around, she pushed up on her toes and kissed him sweetly, “Let’s head to the Riot.”
As Jimmy was not yet ready when they arrived, there was some wait before departing for the party. Figuring Bonzo probably wanted an explanation to their disappearance that morning, Robert lead Summer towards the drummer’s room. There was some relief in knowing Cole wasn’t waiting around the corner, wanting to pounce on the young blond at the first opportunity. The couple seemed far more relaxed that evening than they had in some while, and Robert could only attribute that to Cole’s absence. He rapped on Bonzo’s door, not wanting to interrupt something by just barging in. He had a bit more respect than that.
The door flew open, the drummer’s wild eyes instantly focusing on Summer and softening. His eyes quickly took her in, his mouth opening for what Robert presumed would be a compliment. However Bonzo snapped his mouth closed and pointed down to her feet. While Robert had no idea what the drummer wanted, Summer clearly did, her fingers going to the soft skirt of her dress and lifting it slightly.
“Oh no,” Bonzo commented, spying the beaded sandals on her feet. “That will not do at all, sweet pea.”
“What?” Robert asked.
The drummer merely glared at his friend before pulling the girl into his room, nearly closing the door in Robert’s face. Escorting Summer to his bed and guiding her to sit, he knelt before her. He reached underneath her long skirt, his hands circling her calf to pull one leg out from the confines of the skirt. His right hand traced down to the buckle of the sandal and he deftly unhooked it. Removing the right shoe, he tossed it over where the shoes he had confiscated over a week before remained on his floor still. Bonzo quickly did the same with the left shoe before wiggling her pinky toe once and letting the skirt drop back in place.
“Much better,” he declared, getting back to his feet.
“Um, Bonzo,” Robert spoke up, “she chose to wear shoes tonight.”
The drummer’s eyes snapped to hers, “Really?”
She nodded but said nothing else.
“She even tried to put makeup on.”
Bonzo touched her forehead quickly, “Are you feeling okay, sweet pea? Do I need to kick Robert’s ass for—”
“This is an important night, Bonzo,” she interjected. “It’s not like we’re going over to some friend’s house to smoke some weed and get drunk. This is an industry party. I can’t just—”
“Bollocks, Summer. There is no reason to not be yourself for those pretentious assholes. Fuck the fact they’re—”
“John, can I have my shoes back please?”
For a long moment, silence settled around the three. Robert could tell by the way Bonzo’s back tensed that he was angry with the girl, but he completely harnessed it and said nothing. Instead he slowly stood and retrieved her beaded sandals. Kneeling in front of her again, he reversed what he had done, slipping the shoes back on and fastening them once more. Standing back up, he kissed her forehead briefly before sitting next to her, his hand reaching for hers.
“I missed you this morning,” he declared. “I thought we were gonna have breakfast together.”
“I’m sorry,” she responded, eyes flicking to Robert as he settled in a nearby chair. “We had to... um... go.”
His brows furrowed, “Go? Go where?”
“Bonzo, it’s really none of your bus—”
“I started my menses this morning, Bonzo,” Summer blurted out. “There is no baby.”
He blinked, “No baby?”
“No baby,” she confirmed.
Looking down at their hands for a moment, he sighed, “It is probably for the best. Ye haven’t really known Robert all that long. It’d be better to love each other without a baby in between for awhile longer.”
Summer’s other hand tilted his head back so she could look into his eyes, “Don’t be sad, John. You’ll be a godfather sometime. We have lots and lots of years ahead of us.”
“I know, sweet pea. I know,” he nodded. “But hey, you know what this means, right?”
“Uh no,” she responded cautiously.
Bonzo quickly pulled his hand free and began to tickle her, “I don’t have to be so fucking careful with you any more!”
Watching the drummer tickle his girlfriend for a few minutes, Robert smiled slightly. At least Bonzo had taken the news well, better than Robert expected. He was saddened that he wouldn’t see Summer’s belly swell with his child soon, but he did think that it wasn’t right, wasn’t their time. They still had a lot of getting to know each other to go through. And he wanted to do everything with her properly. Which meant he needed to set up a home with her before bringing any children into the world. And before he could do that, he needed to divorce Maureen.
“Hey!” Summer’s musical voice interjected a moment before she sat in his lap. “Wasn’t someone telling me earlier that you don’t need to frown in order to think?”
Before he could answer, the blond nymph kissed him, chasing away all of his fears and reservations. Smiling as she pulled away, he looked into her sapphire eyes and instantly knew he was going to move the world for her, one brick at a time. She was his perfect match.
“Whoaaaaa. Where did these flowers come from?” Bonzo queried.
“With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair,” Robert sang softly, loud enough that Bonzo understood.
Squished between Jimmy and Robert in the limo, since Peter was on Jimmy’s opposite side and Jimmy insisted she and Robert ride with them to the party, Summer wiggled slightly. She wanted nothing more than to be out of the stuffy situation, even if it was just sitting in Robert’s lap. But the one attempt she made to do just that, Jimmy’s hand touched her thigh, silently requesting she remain where she was. There was absolutely no reason to obey him, but she found herself unable to do anything else. However if they didn’t arrive at the party soon, Summer was certain her legs would fall asleep and then she would be completely useless upon their arrival. The men were discussing boring business matters, nothing that involved her at all. She would definitely have to ride back with Bonzo and John Paul, no matter what. This was just plain ridiculous.
“I’m sending Cole to get clean. His substance abuse of late is the direct cause of his actions,” Peter announced.
“I do not bloody care if the Queen directed him to do any of the fucked up shit he has done. I do not want him back. And I certainly do not want any of my money going to his recovery,” Jimmy declared harshly.
“I am funding it personally. Do not fret, Pagey.”
“That is bloody ridiculous, Peter, and you know it. He will never fucking change and I never want him around my band again,” he stated.
“I understand that, Pagey. But no one knows this band and our tours like he does. He—”
“Did you bloody think I was jesting when I said it was him or us? Fuck, Peter,” he glowered. “No Cole or No Zep.”
“I don’t think you understand, Jimmy. Richard Cole—”
“Is the biggest wanker this side or that side of the ocean. We will have nothing to do with him. Period. No more discussion.”
“But—”
“Oh Jimmy!” Summer interjected, pointing out the window. “Is that where we’re going?”
He glanced out the window, “Yes, princess, it is.”
She whirled back to Robert, “I can’t go in there.”
“Why not, baby?” he asked softly.
“I’m not... I’m not good enough to go in there.”
“Yes, you are,” both Robert and Jimmy declared.
“Baby, you are the most beautiful woman. I do not doubt that you are going to outshine everyone inside this big, fancy house. You are certainly good enough to go in,” Robert claimed. “I would have no one but the best on my arm. You are the best.”
“But—”
“You are the best,” he repeated, kissing her as the door opened and Peter struggled to get out.
The band clustered together upon entering the party. Flutes of champagne were snatched from bustling servers as the men surveyed the party. Though none of them would admit it to each other and especially not to Summer, they were all a bit nervous to be at such an industry party. Rumors of guests like Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan quickly reached the men. They did not really see how they fit in with that crowd at all, even if they did wear the most expensive, most fashionable attire. But no one was about to utter a word about it.
“You know,” Jimmy sipped his champagne, “I met Joni Mitchell last night.”
Robert’s eyes snapped to the guitarist, “Really?”
He nodded coolly, “At dinner. She really was quite charming. I could introduce you tonight if you would like.”
“Um, no thanks. I have one beautiful blond in my life. I don’t need another,” he quickly responded, though his eyes searched the crowd for the other blond woman.
Smiling down into her flute, Summer sipped at the champagne. Part of her wanted to tell Robert that she knew Joni too, but she decided to hold onto that a bit longer. He hadn’t asked questions about the country store; there was no need to provide info he hadn’t seemed to want. Instead she sipped her bubbly drink, half-listening to the men discuss everyone around them.
Before too long, the group began to break up and circulate about the party. Jimmy found someone who was familiar to Summer, though she couldn’t identify him, to talk about guitars. Drifting to the piano, John Paul entertained a number of guests by playing the ivory keys. Bonzo found food and stronger booze, looking for his own form of courage to speak with the others. This left just Robert and Summer surveying the party, the young girl not about to go mingle with people she definitely felt her superior.
“You hungry, baby?” he asked, glancing at her.
“Kinda,” Summer replied, finishing her second glass of champagne.
Escorting her to a seat on a velvet covered couch, Robert kissed her forehead quickly, promised he would return quickly, and headed to the buffet. Seated on the couch alone, her wide eyes looked around the room. With a bit of a buzz in her head from the quickly drank champagne, Summer had lost most of her shyness and looked openly at the faces of the party goers Eyes falling on Bob Dylan as Peter approached him, she watched with great interest. The band’s manager held out his hand, his lips moving in some greeting. A soft giggle left her lips as Bob scowled at Peter, grumbling something that made the manager back up. It wasn’t often that anyone witnessed Peter back down and it amused her greatly.
As her eyes left that interchange, she met familiar blue eyes. Smiling in response to the smile offered her, Summer was a bit surprised when Joni excused herself from her conversation, apparently heading to greet her. A bit of panic touched her and she looked quickly around to see if anyone of the band would save her. All four men were otherwise engaged; she would have to hold her own. So she met Joni’s eyes and slowly stood. The older woman quickly embraced her, kissing her cheeks.
“I am so glad to see you again already, Summer,” she stated. “Who did you come with?”
“Led Zeppelin,” Summer responded.
“Ah,” Joni nodded. “I met one of them last night. Jimmy, I think.”
“He’s the guitarist.”
She nodded again, “Yes, yes. That would be the one. Have they been treating you well?”
“Oh yes, definitely,” she replied. “They’ve taken very good care of me.”
“Splendid. I want to introduce you to some of my friends. What say you?”
For a moment Summer hesitated, but then she nodded. There couldn’t be anything wrong in making new friends, especially if they were friends of the Joni Mitchell. As Joni introduced her to musicians and artists, Summer began to relax, though that could be from the two glasses of champagne as well. She was certain she would not remember everyone and no one would remember her, but it certainly felt good that someone outside the band took interest in her. Though she hadn’t a clue why, Joni had taken to her quite a bit. Maybe bonding over femininity did it, Summer wasn’t certain. The songstress put her at ease.
However all bets were off as Joni lead her to another group of talent. Summer’s blue eyes focused on one man in particular and her heart began to race. While she had been briefly starstruck by Joni earlier that day, he eclipsed the songstress completely, after all she had not only grown up surrounded and playing his music but her parents supposedly met at one of his concerts in Greenwich Village. But there she was, following Joni over to his group. The others were introduced first, as Joni noticed the young woman’s intense stare at the man in the middle.
“And this, Summer, is Bob,” Joni declared, nudging the girl slightly to get her attention.
“Uh, hello,” she muttered softly.
He picked up her hand and kissed it, “Such a pleasure to meet you, Summer.”
Her cheeks flushed a dark red and she quickly averted her eyes. Though Bob released her hand, he remained standing near her. She could feel his eyes inspecting her and oh how she wished to know what he saw, what he was thinking. What did Bob Dylan see as he looked at her?
Returning to the couch where he left her, Robert froze. The only trace of his blond girlfriend was a daisy left on the cushion and her purse on the floor next to it. Setting down the plate on the nearest table, he turned around, blue eyes searching for the girl in blue. His eyes settled on her back on the other side of the room, approaching a group of people, including Bob Dylan who had earlier shunned Peter. Had his girl gotten bolder than he imagined? No, wait, another blond stood next to her, her hand going to the small of the girl’s back. Could it be... was it...? Summer knew Joni Mitchell?
Taking two steps in that direction, Robert was quickly halted by a hand on his arm. Eyes darting to the owner, he glared slightly at Bonzo. The drummer shook his head slightly, instructing Robert to leave the girl be. When his mouth opened to object, the drummer abruptly cut him off, tugging him back to the couch. Seated once more he watched his girlfriend from across the room. Slowly he noticed her relax,the tension across her shoulders disappearing. The folksingers apparently knew how to put her at ease. Oh how his jealousy flared.
“Relax, mate,” Bonzo lightly punched Robert’s shoulder. “She’s your girl and she knows it. She’s not going anywhere.”
“But—”
“What can Bob Dylan give her than you can't, eh?”
Robert glanced at Bonzo, “A less crazy life?”
“Nah. She loves you. Relax. Have another drink.”
Put at ease fairly quickly by both Bob and Joni, Summer eagerly joined in conversation with the small group. Within a few minutes she admitted she was learning guitar just because of Bob’s records, that one of the only songs she could play well was one of his. Joni instantly promised to help the girl explore her talent. Bob had fallen silent for a few minutes, trying to figure the girl out, so much about her achingly familiar.
“Where did you say you were from?” he interrupted the talk about guitars.
Her blue eyes went to his, “Outside San Francisco.”
He frowned slightly, “Have you ever been to—”
“No. Until I came to LA, I hadn’t been anywhere. But,” she averted her eyes, “my parents supposedly met at one of your concerts in Greenwich.”
That garnered his attention, “Really now? Is your mother as pretty as you?”
“I have a picture of her,” Summer answered, reaching for a purse she did not have with her. “Oh. I left my purse somewhere.”
The girl intrigued him too much for him to brush it aside, “Would you mind finding it?”
“No, not at all. I’ll be right back,” she responded.
Excusing herself, Summer made her way back across the room where a sullen Robert sat next to Bonzo. Without saying a word, Summer leaned down to the singer and kissed his frown. Pulling away before he could pull her into his lap, she reminded him that she loved him and plucked her purse from the floor near his feet. Kissing him once more, she promised to return to him shortly.
Returning to Bob, Summer dug out photos of her family she always carried with her, something the band hadn’t seen yet. Flipping through the dozen snapshots, she found one of her and her mother from the previous summer. Saying not a word, she handed it to Bob. He accepted the image, his eyes dropping to the glossy surface. His lips parted slightly, but Summer wasn’t certain what it meant at all.
“Summer, is your mother’s name Adele?”
“Yes. Did the two of you meet or something?”
“You could say that.”
Her heart skipped a bet. Her mother had known Bob Dylan? That didn’t really explain... well anything, certainly not the look on Bob’s face.
“Summer, I think you and I should find some place quiet to talk,” Bob stated softly.
“Uh, all right. Just let me tell Robert so he doesn’t worry.”
“Robert?”
“Plant. My boyfriend,” she answered.
Before Bob could say anything in response the blond girl skipped back over to Robert and Bonzo, leaving Bob holding her picture. Quickly showering Robert with kisses, Summer plopped into his lap briefly. Catching his hand before it cupped her breast, she shook her head, pulling back.
“I love you, Robert,” she declared softly.
“Oh, baby, I love you too,” he responded. “I love you so much.”
“And you’ve been drinking,” she smiled and kissed him again quickly. “However Bob and I need to go talk. I don’t want you to worry or get jealous or—”
“I’ll go with you,” he declared.
Looking into his eyes, Summer quickly decided to not argue. Anything Bob wanted to say to her, he could say in front of Robert. She would share it all with him anyway. Nodding Summer kissed him quickly and pulled out of his lap. She plucked a flower from her hair, kissed it, and handed it to Bonzo with a wink. He grinned and tucked it behind his ear.
Holding Robert’s hand, she lead him back over to Bob. Summer had wanted to introduce him to Joni, but only Bob remained behind. The folksinger did not hide his disdain upon introduction to Robert, but did not ban the rock singer from joining them. Instead he merely nodded and lead the couple outside, finding a cluster of empty chairs out of the way. He waited for Summer to sit, his eyes looking down at the picture.
“You look a lot like Adele. A lot like she did when we met in Minneapolis all those years ago,” he commented. “She was like a breath of fresh air any time she was around. Oh how I love her.”
Summer’s brows knitted, “You knew my mother?”
He finally looked up to her, “Adele and I lived together for eleven blissful months.”
Her mouth dropped open, “My mom lived with you?”
Looking between the folksinger and his girlfriend, Robert began to draw parallels. They both had similar facial features, though she was by no means a copy of Bob at all. However the parallels were strong enough that Robert already jumped ahead, made the connection. But could it be true?
“Summer, how much has your mother told you about her life before California?”
“Very little. Just that she met the man she claims is my father at one of your concerts,” she answered. “That’s all. And then she came to California with him. I don’t even know where she was born. If I have any other family.”
Bob frowned slightly, eyes dropping to the photo, “Minneapolis. You mother was born in Minneapolis. You don’t believe he’s your father?”
“No. I never have. I look nothing like him nor any of their other children. And I know the reason he gave me his guitar is because he can’t play at all and no one else in my family seems to either,” she explained. “Why? Do you know who my father is?”
Bob looked up, meeting her eyes, “Summer, I am your father.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bob pulled his boots on. He glanced over his shoulder at his lover as she turned over, her motion pulling the sheet tight across her body. He turned to her, his calloused fingers brushing golden waves from her face before leaning down to kiss her. She smiled lazily, her hand reaching to squeeze his thigh.
“Do you really have to go?” she muttered.
Bob kissed her temple, “You know I do, Adele. We need all the money we can get now.”
She rolled onto her back, his hand instantly reaching down to caress the slight swell of her belly. Smiling her hand covered his, feeling such an intimate connection with him in that moment. Bob kissed her again sweetly.
“If you feel up to it, I’m playing at the 10 o’clock Scholar again.”
“We’ll see how we feel later.”
“I love you, Adele,” he declared, rubbing her belly again. “Both of you.”
“We love you too,” she smiled. “Now go play before I make it even harder for you to leave.”
Slipping into the coffee house a few blocks away from the University Bob attended, Adele made her way to her regular table, glancing up at the stage. Timing it just perfectly, she sat down just as he took the stage. He paused at the microphone, shaded his eyes from the blaring light shining down on him, and looked around the room. Spying his woman out in the small crowd, he nearly smiled before turning his attention to his guitar. He never needed to tell her that every night he sang for her, that her presence changed his performance. He knew, she knew. It was going to be a great night.
Never one to turn anyone away, Adele smiled at the young bohemian who sat at her table midway through Bob’s set. She chatted amiably but her attention remained on Bob for the most part. So much so she hadn’t noticed a change in her drink until she had a mouthful of it – and quickly spat it back out.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“You weren’t drinking coffee?” he asked.
“No,” Adele declared. “Only herbal teas.”
“But you’re in a coffee house.”
“Because my boyfriend is on stage,” she stated.
He glanced up at Bob, “Oh really? Because the cute brunette sitting by the window said the same thing.”
Adele instantly turned in her chair to look at the girl in question. While the woman was a bit familiar, that didn’t mean anything. Maybe she was someone else’s new girlfriend. She had no need to worry, no matter what the stranger said. Bob loved her and they were going to be a family.
“She said he sings to her all the time,” he commented before sipping his drink.
Her brown eyes snapped to his, “Bob is not cheating on me so clearly you’re mistakne.”
“Am I?”
Adele glowered at him, “You most certainly are.”
However his words embedded that thread of doubt in her mind that night. Whenever out with Bob, she watched him carefully. When he went places without her – which was few and far between – she fretted that he was meeting that woman. She nearly switched tables at the coffeehouse and certainly never missed one of his performances no matter how she felt, just hoping to overhear some snippet of conversation of the other woman. In the two months since meeting the man, her insecurity grew as much as her belly.
And then the moment came. Adele broke down in hysterical sobs and cries in the waning days of October. No matter what Bob said or did, she could not stop. Yet in the middle of it she blurted out all of her negative thoughts lately. He tried to assure her otherwise but she heard him not.
Before falling asleep after bawling she muttered, “You don’t even love me enough to marry me.”
Her words troubled Bob. They had never discussed marriage in their nearly year long relationship. He knew he would never love anyone the way he loved her. And though he fully intended to spend all of his days with her, he had never thought Adele wanted marriage. He knew a baby changed everything, but he really had not expected this. But he loved her and making her happy was paramount. He would marry her, take her as his bride.
With this decided, the eighteen year old Bob quickly dressed. A marriage began with a proposal, with a ring, and so he would find her one. Somewhere in Minneapolis he ought to be able to find one, no matter the hour. He would surprise her with it and breakfast in bed.
He did surprise her when she woke, but not because of a ring. He surprised her with his absence. Waiting two hour Adele’s worry turned to fear, turned to anger. In her heightened hormonal state, the seventeen year old was absolutely certain he had left her, had gone to his other lover. She would not wait yet another moment for him. Quickly packing random objects in the only suitcase they owned between the two of them, Adele shoved all the cash they had been saving for the baby into her purse. She left the small apartment without a note and without looking back. She only wandered one block until she ran into him, the bohemian, the one who planted the seed of doubt.
Within the hour she climbed into a van destined to California.
“I returned to our apartment a little after one in the morning, with the cheapest diamond ring I could find,” Bob declared. “I had to busk for two hours to earn the cash for it. But it didn’t matter. She was already gone.”
Summer looked at the folksinger, struggling to wrap her thoughts around his words. There was absolutely no reason to not believe him. Just because he was Bob Dylan, theBob Dylan, did not make it any more unlikely than any other man. And the more she thought on it, her mother only allowed her to play Bob’s music when Jerry wasn’t around. Did her mother miss him, yearn for him? Did she regret leaving the man who loved her? It did not seem like the story was unlikely at all. Without even trying, had she found her father?
Her eyes searched his, her mouth searching for words to speak her thoughts, her feelings. Bob Dylan was her father.
“I dropped out of school and moved to New York not long after she left.... I know... I know this is a lot to take in, especially if you never had any inkling of it before,” Bob stated. “But, Summer, I believe I am your father.”
“But... but she met my supposed father at one of your concerts in New York.”
“Summer, when were you born?”
“March fifteenth nineteen sixty,” she responded.
“I moved to New York in January of sixty-one,” he declared.
“But... Bob... I just...”
“I know,” he nodded, glancing at Robert. “There’s a lot I would like to share with you, Summer, but I know this is a lot to take in. Let me give you my number and you can call me when you’re ready.”
Numbly Summer accepted part of a cigarette package with a phone number scrawled hastily upon it. Bob bade them farewell, leaving the golden couple sitting on the patio alone. Summer’s stomach growled, but she had no desire for food at all. Was everything Bob said true? How could it not be? How could her mother keep such a thing from her? How...
“Baby?” Robert muttered softly, caressing her cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I... I... I don’t know,” she responded, meeting his eyes.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, “What do you need me to do, baby?”
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, “Can we... can we go home?”
Without a second of thought, Robert agreed. Standing he kissed her lovingly as she stood, his arm slipping around her and leading her back into the house. They quickly found Peter, as if a man of his size and stature was difficult to find. Without explaining the situation, Robert quickly told the manager the couple were leaving the party not even two hours after arriving. He didn’t even wait for the manager to reply, merely turned Summer away, leading her through the thick of the party. The rest of the band noticed, but only Jimmy managed to reach them before they reached the door.
“Are you leaving so soon?” he asked as Robert reached for the door.
“Yeah,” the singer replied. “Summer... isn’t feeling so keen on the party tonight.”
Jimmy’s eyes snapped to Summer. Instantly he noticed something different about her, something tinting her happy glow. It concerned him, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it, that much he was certain. It would be overstepping his bounds. But he couldn’t just let her leave without something.
“Is there anything I can do to help out?” he asked gently, his eyes still on her.
Summer met his kind eyes, “I just... I have some things I need to figure out on my own, Jimmy. Thanks. You just stay and have fun.”
“It won’t be any fun without you,” he claimed. “I’ll co—”
“We’re just going back to the beach house so Summer can have some quiet time with her thoughts,” Robert interjected. “We’ll catch up with you in the morrow.”
Slipping out to the beach as he hadn’t found Summer anywhere in the house, he found his girlfriend sitting in the soft sands, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting upon them. The slight breeze wafting from the crashing waves lifted her hair slightly; a particularly strong gust stealing a flower from her hair. Standing at the edge of the sand for awhile, Robert watched her. He could not even begin to imagine what was going through her mind. While she had told him before that she did not believe the man claimed to be her father actually was, it had to be mind-blowing to be told by Bob Dylanthat he fathered her. How did one begin to deal with that? And why wasn’t he helping her, just standing meters away?
Bare toes digging into the sand, Robert made his way out to her. Silently he sat next to the blond. Her eyes left the reflection of the moon on the waves to look at him. Her eyes were rimmed with tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. Her lips parted but he could tell she had no words to share with him. Without needing to be asked, Robert opened his arms for her. The girl quickly scrambled into his lap, burying her face on his shoulder as his arms curled around her body. Before long she trembled with tears. He merely held her as she sobbed, not entirely sure what to say, what she needed to hear.
When her body’s trembles began to abate, he pulled slightly away and kissed her forehead, his fingers reaching up to wipe away her tears. Her face crinkled with emotion once more, inciting Robert to wrap his arms back around her. Her body once more trembled with sobs. There really was no way for him to understand what she was going through. He had always known his father, had lived in a standard, conservative family, one that still wished he had become an accountant instead of a musician. But she... she had spent her whole life being told one man was her father, something she hadn’t believed, only to find out that not only was he in fact not her father but that her mother’s cover story didn’t even pass any test whatsoever. It had to be completely destabilizing. And that, he realized, was why she was crying. Her entire world, entire existence was based upon a lie.
“Baby,” he muttered gently, getting her to look up into his eyes, “I love you, Summer. No matter what, I love you.”
Her bottom lip trembled and she once more buried her face on his shoulder. He could do nothing but hold her, whispering assurances every now and then. It seemed whenever her sobs would cease, some other thought would flit through her mind and the sobs would begin anew. For an hour they sat thusly, long enough that Robert could no longer feel his toes, either from her sitting fairly unmovingly in his lap or from the slight chill that came with the late hour of night. Regardless of the reason, they needed to go inside.
“Baby,” he breathed, brushing her hair from her face, “we should go inside. Can we go inside?”
Her eyes, red and puffy from her on-and-off sobbing went to his and she nodded. Slowly easing her out of his lap, he stretched his legs and wiggled his toes. Waiting for feeling to return, Robert got to his feet, turning to Summer. Without much thought at all, he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips touching his cheek gently as he began to head up to their bungalow. She reached and opened the door for him as they arrived, figuring Robert was not about to set her down just yet. That much was true. He headed directly to their bedroom, narrowly avoiding furniture in the darkness, and set her on the bed. Kissing her nose, he requested her to remain where she was and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later Summer heard the sound of running water and instantly knew Robert was filling the bath tub.
He returned a moment later, holding out his hand to her. Summer slipped hers into his, letting him pull her up. His lips touched hers gently and he reached to unzip her party dress. Normally such an act would be so sexually charged there would be threat of him tearing her clothing. But instead Robert carefully undressed her, setting the dress on a nearby chair and removing her jewelry as well. His lips touched hers quickly before he lead her by hand to the bathroom. While Summer slipped into the hot water, Robert shed his clothes quickly and climbed in as well after turning the spout off.
They adjusted in the tub until Summer was once more enfolded in his arms. She closed her eyes, focusing her attention on the heat of the water and the affection from the man who held her. Everything felt like it was in flux, everything except his love. She knew in that moment, it didn’t matter who fathered her, who mothered her, Robert loved her, whoever she was. Their love was strong, as young as it was, and that would have to be enough to live on, survive on. She trusted in his love. It was going to be far more instrumental in her life than anything had been before. It had to be.
“Robert?” she uttered as his fingers gently caressed up and down her arm.
Smiling slightly at the very fact Summer was speaking for the first time in hours, “Yes, baby.”
“Is Bob... Bob Dylan really my father?”
He brushed hair from her eyes, “You do have his eyes, Summer. I can’t give you a definite answer, you’ll need to speak with your mother, but his story... it seemed really heartfelt. And I can see similarities between you and him.”
“But... all my life she told me she met Jerry at Bob’s concert in Greenwich... but he wasn’t even in Greenwich when she could have met Jerry. That means everything I have ever been told in my life... is a lie,” she declared. “I always knew Jerry wasn’t my father, but... but... fuck, Robert... who am I?”
Sitting up straight, which forced her to do so as well, Robert turned her about in the bathtub, meeting her eyes, “You are not defined by your parents, Summer. You are not defined by what your last name may or may not be; you know that. That’s why when Jimmy asked what it was, you couldn’t answer. Your heritage does not make who you are.”
“But then who am I?”
“You are the most caring, playful, sunny, beautiful woman I have ever met. You are perfectly natural and perfectly musical. You are... Summer. There is no one in the entire world like you at all and I thank the stars above every time I see them for blessing me with you,” he responded. “You are the woman I love and the woman I have been searching for all my life.”
Her eyes wavered as she looked at him, “Robert, what... what is going to happen now?”
“Whatever you want to happen, baby. We can get in touch with your mother. You can get in touch with Bob again. We can do nothing. It is completely up to you, Summer,” he responded.
“Can we... can we call my mom?”
“Absolutely. Do you want to right now?”
“I... no. No one would answer the phone at the general store now,” she responded.
“Then we’ll do so first thing in the morning,” Robert proclaimed.
Summer nodded, “I think we should get out of the tub too. It’s kinda gotten cold.”
He smiled crookedly, “That is has.”
Climbing out of the tub, she reached for a towel, but before her fingers could touch it, Robert reached around and snatched it. He wrapped it tightly about her, holding her snugly and kissing her lovingly. For a few long minutes they stood in the bathroom in just that embrace. Her eyes fluttered close and in that moment she did feel all those lovely things he had said about her previously. It didn’t matter who her father was; it only mattered who her love was.
Rating: R [language, alcohol, and non-sexual nudity]
Summary: The band goes to an industry party where interesting people such as Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan are in attendance, both of whom have a greater role to play than I expected.
Stepping out of the bathroom wearing a powder blue strapless dress, Summer’s eyes went expectantly to Robert’s. Glancing up after slipping one shoe on and picking up the other, his breath caught and he dropped the shoe loudly. Grinning Summer skipped back into the bathroom to get rid of the towel wrapped about her hair. Apparently the silk cotton dip-dyed maxi dress was appropriate for the party they were attending that night. Slipping into the small tiled room behind her, Robert glanced at the counter. At some point Summer had spread all the cosmetics she received on her birthday out on the counter. For a silent moment, he watched her fingers touch each one, perhaps trying to figure out which to try first. Without pause, he swept her wet hair from her shoulder, quickly kissing her exposed shoulder.
“You don’t need any of that,” he muttered. “You are beautiful without.”
Plucking his hand that had drifted down to her breast, Summer replied, “But this party is a big deal, Robert. I don’t need to stand out because I’m—”
“Beautiful? Nothing you ever do will change that, baby,” he declared, kissing her flesh again.
“But everyone else will be—”
“As droll as pavement at night,” Robert stated. “But you are missing something.”
“I am?” she patted herself down in a panic.
“Wait right here,” he instructed before disappearing from the bathroom.
Sighing after he left, Summer picked up a tube of lipstick and opened it. Looking at the waxy red cosmetic, she crinkled her nose and capped it again. Gathering up the miscellaneous objects, she shoved them back into the bag one of the girls gave her. She didn’t want to be like them, not at all. Robert loved her for who she was, not for who they were. If only she could remind herself of that often, she would be okay, but she did realize everything was harder to believe when she was menstruating. It was rather frustrating that this had to happen while she was with Robert too. She only hoped that by the last concert, it would be over so she could once more bathe in his after-concert loving. She needed to get back on birth control too. Maybe she would be able to pull John Paul aside during the party and ask him when they could go to a doctor so she could do that. It was going to be hard to tell Bonzo that she wasn’t pregn—
“Why are you frowning?” Robert’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
Her eyes went to his in the mirror, “Just thinking.”
“You don’t need to frown to think,” he responded, slipping behind her. “You don’t need to frown at all.”
He quickly fastened the silver beaded necklace he gifted her with on her birthday and kissed her shoulder again. Glancing at her appearance in the mirror, Robert wasn’t quite satisfied. She needed something a bit different, but he wasn’t entirely sure. As her damp hair curled around his finger, he knew instantly what it was she was missing. Kissing her once more, he instructed her to style her hair and he would return with the final piece needed to complete her outfit before they headed to the Riot House to meet up with the rest of the band for the party. Leaving her be in the bathroom once more, Robert hurried out into the rest of the bungalow. He quickly glanced around and did not see anything that would do, not that it was any surprise as they had not been at the beach house for a few days. Pulling the door open, he glanced around, his eyes falling upon a nearby flowerbed. Seeing a bunch of happy daisies, he knew that was exactly what she needed. Plucking the most perfect ones, which did in fact mean Robert walked the flowerbed twice, he headed back into the small house with a handful of flowers.
Returning to the bathroom, he was pleased to see she had plaited and twisted most of her hair on the crown of her head, a few errant wisps naturally falling about her shoulders. Without a word, Robert began to tuck the flowers into her braid. Summer’s lips parted to ask what he was doing but apparently she thought better of it and remained silent, letting Robert do whatever. It wasn’t until he reached the top of her head with the flowers that she spied the white daisies. He tucked the last one into her hair before meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“Now you will be absolutely unforgettable,” he declared.
Turning around, she pushed up on her toes and kissed him sweetly, “Let’s head to the Riot.”
As Jimmy was not yet ready when they arrived, there was some wait before departing for the party. Figuring Bonzo probably wanted an explanation to their disappearance that morning, Robert lead Summer towards the drummer’s room. There was some relief in knowing Cole wasn’t waiting around the corner, wanting to pounce on the young blond at the first opportunity. The couple seemed far more relaxed that evening than they had in some while, and Robert could only attribute that to Cole’s absence. He rapped on Bonzo’s door, not wanting to interrupt something by just barging in. He had a bit more respect than that.
The door flew open, the drummer’s wild eyes instantly focusing on Summer and softening. His eyes quickly took her in, his mouth opening for what Robert presumed would be a compliment. However Bonzo snapped his mouth closed and pointed down to her feet. While Robert had no idea what the drummer wanted, Summer clearly did, her fingers going to the soft skirt of her dress and lifting it slightly.
“Oh no,” Bonzo commented, spying the beaded sandals on her feet. “That will not do at all, sweet pea.”
“What?” Robert asked.
The drummer merely glared at his friend before pulling the girl into his room, nearly closing the door in Robert’s face. Escorting Summer to his bed and guiding her to sit, he knelt before her. He reached underneath her long skirt, his hands circling her calf to pull one leg out from the confines of the skirt. His right hand traced down to the buckle of the sandal and he deftly unhooked it. Removing the right shoe, he tossed it over where the shoes he had confiscated over a week before remained on his floor still. Bonzo quickly did the same with the left shoe before wiggling her pinky toe once and letting the skirt drop back in place.
“Much better,” he declared, getting back to his feet.
“Um, Bonzo,” Robert spoke up, “she chose to wear shoes tonight.”
The drummer’s eyes snapped to hers, “Really?”
She nodded but said nothing else.
“She even tried to put makeup on.”
Bonzo touched her forehead quickly, “Are you feeling okay, sweet pea? Do I need to kick Robert’s ass for—”
“This is an important night, Bonzo,” she interjected. “It’s not like we’re going over to some friend’s house to smoke some weed and get drunk. This is an industry party. I can’t just—”
“Bollocks, Summer. There is no reason to not be yourself for those pretentious assholes. Fuck the fact they’re—”
“John, can I have my shoes back please?”
For a long moment, silence settled around the three. Robert could tell by the way Bonzo’s back tensed that he was angry with the girl, but he completely harnessed it and said nothing. Instead he slowly stood and retrieved her beaded sandals. Kneeling in front of her again, he reversed what he had done, slipping the shoes back on and fastening them once more. Standing back up, he kissed her forehead briefly before sitting next to her, his hand reaching for hers.
“I missed you this morning,” he declared. “I thought we were gonna have breakfast together.”
“I’m sorry,” she responded, eyes flicking to Robert as he settled in a nearby chair. “We had to... um... go.”
His brows furrowed, “Go? Go where?”
“Bonzo, it’s really none of your bus—”
“I started my menses this morning, Bonzo,” Summer blurted out. “There is no baby.”
He blinked, “No baby?”
“No baby,” she confirmed.
Looking down at their hands for a moment, he sighed, “It is probably for the best. Ye haven’t really known Robert all that long. It’d be better to love each other without a baby in between for awhile longer.”
Summer’s other hand tilted his head back so she could look into his eyes, “Don’t be sad, John. You’ll be a godfather sometime. We have lots and lots of years ahead of us.”
“I know, sweet pea. I know,” he nodded. “But hey, you know what this means, right?”
“Uh no,” she responded cautiously.
Bonzo quickly pulled his hand free and began to tickle her, “I don’t have to be so fucking careful with you any more!”
Watching the drummer tickle his girlfriend for a few minutes, Robert smiled slightly. At least Bonzo had taken the news well, better than Robert expected. He was saddened that he wouldn’t see Summer’s belly swell with his child soon, but he did think that it wasn’t right, wasn’t their time. They still had a lot of getting to know each other to go through. And he wanted to do everything with her properly. Which meant he needed to set up a home with her before bringing any children into the world. And before he could do that, he needed to divorce Maureen.
“Hey!” Summer’s musical voice interjected a moment before she sat in his lap. “Wasn’t someone telling me earlier that you don’t need to frown in order to think?”
Before he could answer, the blond nymph kissed him, chasing away all of his fears and reservations. Smiling as she pulled away, he looked into her sapphire eyes and instantly knew he was going to move the world for her, one brick at a time. She was his perfect match.
“Whoaaaaa. Where did these flowers come from?” Bonzo queried.
“With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair,” Robert sang softly, loud enough that Bonzo understood.
Squished between Jimmy and Robert in the limo, since Peter was on Jimmy’s opposite side and Jimmy insisted she and Robert ride with them to the party, Summer wiggled slightly. She wanted nothing more than to be out of the stuffy situation, even if it was just sitting in Robert’s lap. But the one attempt she made to do just that, Jimmy’s hand touched her thigh, silently requesting she remain where she was. There was absolutely no reason to obey him, but she found herself unable to do anything else. However if they didn’t arrive at the party soon, Summer was certain her legs would fall asleep and then she would be completely useless upon their arrival. The men were discussing boring business matters, nothing that involved her at all. She would definitely have to ride back with Bonzo and John Paul, no matter what. This was just plain ridiculous.
“I’m sending Cole to get clean. His substance abuse of late is the direct cause of his actions,” Peter announced.
“I do not bloody care if the Queen directed him to do any of the fucked up shit he has done. I do not want him back. And I certainly do not want any of my money going to his recovery,” Jimmy declared harshly.
“I am funding it personally. Do not fret, Pagey.”
“That is bloody ridiculous, Peter, and you know it. He will never fucking change and I never want him around my band again,” he stated.
“I understand that, Pagey. But no one knows this band and our tours like he does. He—”
“Did you bloody think I was jesting when I said it was him or us? Fuck, Peter,” he glowered. “No Cole or No Zep.”
“I don’t think you understand, Jimmy. Richard Cole—”
“Is the biggest wanker this side or that side of the ocean. We will have nothing to do with him. Period. No more discussion.”
“But—”
“Oh Jimmy!” Summer interjected, pointing out the window. “Is that where we’re going?”
He glanced out the window, “Yes, princess, it is.”
She whirled back to Robert, “I can’t go in there.”
“Why not, baby?” he asked softly.
“I’m not... I’m not good enough to go in there.”
“Yes, you are,” both Robert and Jimmy declared.
“Baby, you are the most beautiful woman. I do not doubt that you are going to outshine everyone inside this big, fancy house. You are certainly good enough to go in,” Robert claimed. “I would have no one but the best on my arm. You are the best.”
“But—”
“You are the best,” he repeated, kissing her as the door opened and Peter struggled to get out.
The band clustered together upon entering the party. Flutes of champagne were snatched from bustling servers as the men surveyed the party. Though none of them would admit it to each other and especially not to Summer, they were all a bit nervous to be at such an industry party. Rumors of guests like Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan quickly reached the men. They did not really see how they fit in with that crowd at all, even if they did wear the most expensive, most fashionable attire. But no one was about to utter a word about it.
“You know,” Jimmy sipped his champagne, “I met Joni Mitchell last night.”
Robert’s eyes snapped to the guitarist, “Really?”
He nodded coolly, “At dinner. She really was quite charming. I could introduce you tonight if you would like.”
“Um, no thanks. I have one beautiful blond in my life. I don’t need another,” he quickly responded, though his eyes searched the crowd for the other blond woman.
Smiling down into her flute, Summer sipped at the champagne. Part of her wanted to tell Robert that she knew Joni too, but she decided to hold onto that a bit longer. He hadn’t asked questions about the country store; there was no need to provide info he hadn’t seemed to want. Instead she sipped her bubbly drink, half-listening to the men discuss everyone around them.
Before too long, the group began to break up and circulate about the party. Jimmy found someone who was familiar to Summer, though she couldn’t identify him, to talk about guitars. Drifting to the piano, John Paul entertained a number of guests by playing the ivory keys. Bonzo found food and stronger booze, looking for his own form of courage to speak with the others. This left just Robert and Summer surveying the party, the young girl not about to go mingle with people she definitely felt her superior.
“You hungry, baby?” he asked, glancing at her.
“Kinda,” Summer replied, finishing her second glass of champagne.
Escorting her to a seat on a velvet covered couch, Robert kissed her forehead quickly, promised he would return quickly, and headed to the buffet. Seated on the couch alone, her wide eyes looked around the room. With a bit of a buzz in her head from the quickly drank champagne, Summer had lost most of her shyness and looked openly at the faces of the party goers Eyes falling on Bob Dylan as Peter approached him, she watched with great interest. The band’s manager held out his hand, his lips moving in some greeting. A soft giggle left her lips as Bob scowled at Peter, grumbling something that made the manager back up. It wasn’t often that anyone witnessed Peter back down and it amused her greatly.
As her eyes left that interchange, she met familiar blue eyes. Smiling in response to the smile offered her, Summer was a bit surprised when Joni excused herself from her conversation, apparently heading to greet her. A bit of panic touched her and she looked quickly around to see if anyone of the band would save her. All four men were otherwise engaged; she would have to hold her own. So she met Joni’s eyes and slowly stood. The older woman quickly embraced her, kissing her cheeks.
“I am so glad to see you again already, Summer,” she stated. “Who did you come with?”
“Led Zeppelin,” Summer responded.
“Ah,” Joni nodded. “I met one of them last night. Jimmy, I think.”
“He’s the guitarist.”
She nodded again, “Yes, yes. That would be the one. Have they been treating you well?”
“Oh yes, definitely,” she replied. “They’ve taken very good care of me.”
“Splendid. I want to introduce you to some of my friends. What say you?”
For a moment Summer hesitated, but then she nodded. There couldn’t be anything wrong in making new friends, especially if they were friends of the Joni Mitchell. As Joni introduced her to musicians and artists, Summer began to relax, though that could be from the two glasses of champagne as well. She was certain she would not remember everyone and no one would remember her, but it certainly felt good that someone outside the band took interest in her. Though she hadn’t a clue why, Joni had taken to her quite a bit. Maybe bonding over femininity did it, Summer wasn’t certain. The songstress put her at ease.
However all bets were off as Joni lead her to another group of talent. Summer’s blue eyes focused on one man in particular and her heart began to race. While she had been briefly starstruck by Joni earlier that day, he eclipsed the songstress completely, after all she had not only grown up surrounded and playing his music but her parents supposedly met at one of his concerts in Greenwich Village. But there she was, following Joni over to his group. The others were introduced first, as Joni noticed the young woman’s intense stare at the man in the middle.
“And this, Summer, is Bob,” Joni declared, nudging the girl slightly to get her attention.
“Uh, hello,” she muttered softly.
He picked up her hand and kissed it, “Such a pleasure to meet you, Summer.”
Her cheeks flushed a dark red and she quickly averted her eyes. Though Bob released her hand, he remained standing near her. She could feel his eyes inspecting her and oh how she wished to know what he saw, what he was thinking. What did Bob Dylan see as he looked at her?
Returning to the couch where he left her, Robert froze. The only trace of his blond girlfriend was a daisy left on the cushion and her purse on the floor next to it. Setting down the plate on the nearest table, he turned around, blue eyes searching for the girl in blue. His eyes settled on her back on the other side of the room, approaching a group of people, including Bob Dylan who had earlier shunned Peter. Had his girl gotten bolder than he imagined? No, wait, another blond stood next to her, her hand going to the small of the girl’s back. Could it be... was it...? Summer knew Joni Mitchell?
Taking two steps in that direction, Robert was quickly halted by a hand on his arm. Eyes darting to the owner, he glared slightly at Bonzo. The drummer shook his head slightly, instructing Robert to leave the girl be. When his mouth opened to object, the drummer abruptly cut him off, tugging him back to the couch. Seated once more he watched his girlfriend from across the room. Slowly he noticed her relax,the tension across her shoulders disappearing. The folksingers apparently knew how to put her at ease. Oh how his jealousy flared.
“Relax, mate,” Bonzo lightly punched Robert’s shoulder. “She’s your girl and she knows it. She’s not going anywhere.”
“But—”
“What can Bob Dylan give her than you can't, eh?”
Robert glanced at Bonzo, “A less crazy life?”
“Nah. She loves you. Relax. Have another drink.”
Put at ease fairly quickly by both Bob and Joni, Summer eagerly joined in conversation with the small group. Within a few minutes she admitted she was learning guitar just because of Bob’s records, that one of the only songs she could play well was one of his. Joni instantly promised to help the girl explore her talent. Bob had fallen silent for a few minutes, trying to figure the girl out, so much about her achingly familiar.
“Where did you say you were from?” he interrupted the talk about guitars.
Her blue eyes went to his, “Outside San Francisco.”
He frowned slightly, “Have you ever been to—”
“No. Until I came to LA, I hadn’t been anywhere. But,” she averted her eyes, “my parents supposedly met at one of your concerts in Greenwich.”
That garnered his attention, “Really now? Is your mother as pretty as you?”
“I have a picture of her,” Summer answered, reaching for a purse she did not have with her. “Oh. I left my purse somewhere.”
The girl intrigued him too much for him to brush it aside, “Would you mind finding it?”
“No, not at all. I’ll be right back,” she responded.
Excusing herself, Summer made her way back across the room where a sullen Robert sat next to Bonzo. Without saying a word, Summer leaned down to the singer and kissed his frown. Pulling away before he could pull her into his lap, she reminded him that she loved him and plucked her purse from the floor near his feet. Kissing him once more, she promised to return to him shortly.
Returning to Bob, Summer dug out photos of her family she always carried with her, something the band hadn’t seen yet. Flipping through the dozen snapshots, she found one of her and her mother from the previous summer. Saying not a word, she handed it to Bob. He accepted the image, his eyes dropping to the glossy surface. His lips parted slightly, but Summer wasn’t certain what it meant at all.
“Summer, is your mother’s name Adele?”
“Yes. Did the two of you meet or something?”
“You could say that.”
Her heart skipped a bet. Her mother had known Bob Dylan? That didn’t really explain... well anything, certainly not the look on Bob’s face.
“Summer, I think you and I should find some place quiet to talk,” Bob stated softly.
“Uh, all right. Just let me tell Robert so he doesn’t worry.”
“Robert?”
“Plant. My boyfriend,” she answered.
Before Bob could say anything in response the blond girl skipped back over to Robert and Bonzo, leaving Bob holding her picture. Quickly showering Robert with kisses, Summer plopped into his lap briefly. Catching his hand before it cupped her breast, she shook her head, pulling back.
“I love you, Robert,” she declared softly.
“Oh, baby, I love you too,” he responded. “I love you so much.”
“And you’ve been drinking,” she smiled and kissed him again quickly. “However Bob and I need to go talk. I don’t want you to worry or get jealous or—”
“I’ll go with you,” he declared.
Looking into his eyes, Summer quickly decided to not argue. Anything Bob wanted to say to her, he could say in front of Robert. She would share it all with him anyway. Nodding Summer kissed him quickly and pulled out of his lap. She plucked a flower from her hair, kissed it, and handed it to Bonzo with a wink. He grinned and tucked it behind his ear.
Holding Robert’s hand, she lead him back over to Bob. Summer had wanted to introduce him to Joni, but only Bob remained behind. The folksinger did not hide his disdain upon introduction to Robert, but did not ban the rock singer from joining them. Instead he merely nodded and lead the couple outside, finding a cluster of empty chairs out of the way. He waited for Summer to sit, his eyes looking down at the picture.
“You look a lot like Adele. A lot like she did when we met in Minneapolis all those years ago,” he commented. “She was like a breath of fresh air any time she was around. Oh how I love her.”
Summer’s brows knitted, “You knew my mother?”
He finally looked up to her, “Adele and I lived together for eleven blissful months.”
Her mouth dropped open, “My mom lived with you?”
Looking between the folksinger and his girlfriend, Robert began to draw parallels. They both had similar facial features, though she was by no means a copy of Bob at all. However the parallels were strong enough that Robert already jumped ahead, made the connection. But could it be true?
“Summer, how much has your mother told you about her life before California?”
“Very little. Just that she met the man she claims is my father at one of your concerts,” she answered. “That’s all. And then she came to California with him. I don’t even know where she was born. If I have any other family.”
Bob frowned slightly, eyes dropping to the photo, “Minneapolis. You mother was born in Minneapolis. You don’t believe he’s your father?”
“No. I never have. I look nothing like him nor any of their other children. And I know the reason he gave me his guitar is because he can’t play at all and no one else in my family seems to either,” she explained. “Why? Do you know who my father is?”
Bob looked up, meeting her eyes, “Summer, I am your father.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Bob pulled his boots on. He glanced over his shoulder at his lover as she turned over, her motion pulling the sheet tight across her body. He turned to her, his calloused fingers brushing golden waves from her face before leaning down to kiss her. She smiled lazily, her hand reaching to squeeze his thigh.
“Do you really have to go?” she muttered.
Bob kissed her temple, “You know I do, Adele. We need all the money we can get now.”
She rolled onto her back, his hand instantly reaching down to caress the slight swell of her belly. Smiling her hand covered his, feeling such an intimate connection with him in that moment. Bob kissed her again sweetly.
“If you feel up to it, I’m playing at the 10 o’clock Scholar again.”
“We’ll see how we feel later.”
“I love you, Adele,” he declared, rubbing her belly again. “Both of you.”
“We love you too,” she smiled. “Now go play before I make it even harder for you to leave.”
Slipping into the coffee house a few blocks away from the University Bob attended, Adele made her way to her regular table, glancing up at the stage. Timing it just perfectly, she sat down just as he took the stage. He paused at the microphone, shaded his eyes from the blaring light shining down on him, and looked around the room. Spying his woman out in the small crowd, he nearly smiled before turning his attention to his guitar. He never needed to tell her that every night he sang for her, that her presence changed his performance. He knew, she knew. It was going to be a great night.
Never one to turn anyone away, Adele smiled at the young bohemian who sat at her table midway through Bob’s set. She chatted amiably but her attention remained on Bob for the most part. So much so she hadn’t noticed a change in her drink until she had a mouthful of it – and quickly spat it back out.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“You weren’t drinking coffee?” he asked.
“No,” Adele declared. “Only herbal teas.”
“But you’re in a coffee house.”
“Because my boyfriend is on stage,” she stated.
He glanced up at Bob, “Oh really? Because the cute brunette sitting by the window said the same thing.”
Adele instantly turned in her chair to look at the girl in question. While the woman was a bit familiar, that didn’t mean anything. Maybe she was someone else’s new girlfriend. She had no need to worry, no matter what the stranger said. Bob loved her and they were going to be a family.
“She said he sings to her all the time,” he commented before sipping his drink.
Her brown eyes snapped to his, “Bob is not cheating on me so clearly you’re mistakne.”
“Am I?”
Adele glowered at him, “You most certainly are.”
However his words embedded that thread of doubt in her mind that night. Whenever out with Bob, she watched him carefully. When he went places without her – which was few and far between – she fretted that he was meeting that woman. She nearly switched tables at the coffeehouse and certainly never missed one of his performances no matter how she felt, just hoping to overhear some snippet of conversation of the other woman. In the two months since meeting the man, her insecurity grew as much as her belly.
And then the moment came. Adele broke down in hysterical sobs and cries in the waning days of October. No matter what Bob said or did, she could not stop. Yet in the middle of it she blurted out all of her negative thoughts lately. He tried to assure her otherwise but she heard him not.
Before falling asleep after bawling she muttered, “You don’t even love me enough to marry me.”
Her words troubled Bob. They had never discussed marriage in their nearly year long relationship. He knew he would never love anyone the way he loved her. And though he fully intended to spend all of his days with her, he had never thought Adele wanted marriage. He knew a baby changed everything, but he really had not expected this. But he loved her and making her happy was paramount. He would marry her, take her as his bride.
With this decided, the eighteen year old Bob quickly dressed. A marriage began with a proposal, with a ring, and so he would find her one. Somewhere in Minneapolis he ought to be able to find one, no matter the hour. He would surprise her with it and breakfast in bed.
He did surprise her when she woke, but not because of a ring. He surprised her with his absence. Waiting two hour Adele’s worry turned to fear, turned to anger. In her heightened hormonal state, the seventeen year old was absolutely certain he had left her, had gone to his other lover. She would not wait yet another moment for him. Quickly packing random objects in the only suitcase they owned between the two of them, Adele shoved all the cash they had been saving for the baby into her purse. She left the small apartment without a note and without looking back. She only wandered one block until she ran into him, the bohemian, the one who planted the seed of doubt.
Within the hour she climbed into a van destined to California.
“I returned to our apartment a little after one in the morning, with the cheapest diamond ring I could find,” Bob declared. “I had to busk for two hours to earn the cash for it. But it didn’t matter. She was already gone.”
Summer looked at the folksinger, struggling to wrap her thoughts around his words. There was absolutely no reason to not believe him. Just because he was Bob Dylan, theBob Dylan, did not make it any more unlikely than any other man. And the more she thought on it, her mother only allowed her to play Bob’s music when Jerry wasn’t around. Did her mother miss him, yearn for him? Did she regret leaving the man who loved her? It did not seem like the story was unlikely at all. Without even trying, had she found her father?
Her eyes searched his, her mouth searching for words to speak her thoughts, her feelings. Bob Dylan was her father.
“I dropped out of school and moved to New York not long after she left.... I know... I know this is a lot to take in, especially if you never had any inkling of it before,” Bob stated. “But, Summer, I believe I am your father.”
“But... but she met my supposed father at one of your concerts in New York.”
“Summer, when were you born?”
“March fifteenth nineteen sixty,” she responded.
“I moved to New York in January of sixty-one,” he declared.
“But... Bob... I just...”
“I know,” he nodded, glancing at Robert. “There’s a lot I would like to share with you, Summer, but I know this is a lot to take in. Let me give you my number and you can call me when you’re ready.”
Numbly Summer accepted part of a cigarette package with a phone number scrawled hastily upon it. Bob bade them farewell, leaving the golden couple sitting on the patio alone. Summer’s stomach growled, but she had no desire for food at all. Was everything Bob said true? How could it not be? How could her mother keep such a thing from her? How...
“Baby?” Robert muttered softly, caressing her cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I... I... I don’t know,” she responded, meeting his eyes.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, “What do you need me to do, baby?”
Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, “Can we... can we go home?”
Without a second of thought, Robert agreed. Standing he kissed her lovingly as she stood, his arm slipping around her and leading her back into the house. They quickly found Peter, as if a man of his size and stature was difficult to find. Without explaining the situation, Robert quickly told the manager the couple were leaving the party not even two hours after arriving. He didn’t even wait for the manager to reply, merely turned Summer away, leading her through the thick of the party. The rest of the band noticed, but only Jimmy managed to reach them before they reached the door.
“Are you leaving so soon?” he asked as Robert reached for the door.
“Yeah,” the singer replied. “Summer... isn’t feeling so keen on the party tonight.”
Jimmy’s eyes snapped to Summer. Instantly he noticed something different about her, something tinting her happy glow. It concerned him, but there wasn’t a thing he could do about it, that much he was certain. It would be overstepping his bounds. But he couldn’t just let her leave without something.
“Is there anything I can do to help out?” he asked gently, his eyes still on her.
Summer met his kind eyes, “I just... I have some things I need to figure out on my own, Jimmy. Thanks. You just stay and have fun.”
“It won’t be any fun without you,” he claimed. “I’ll co—”
“We’re just going back to the beach house so Summer can have some quiet time with her thoughts,” Robert interjected. “We’ll catch up with you in the morrow.”
Slipping out to the beach as he hadn’t found Summer anywhere in the house, he found his girlfriend sitting in the soft sands, knees pulled to her chest, chin resting upon them. The slight breeze wafting from the crashing waves lifted her hair slightly; a particularly strong gust stealing a flower from her hair. Standing at the edge of the sand for awhile, Robert watched her. He could not even begin to imagine what was going through her mind. While she had told him before that she did not believe the man claimed to be her father actually was, it had to be mind-blowing to be told by Bob Dylanthat he fathered her. How did one begin to deal with that? And why wasn’t he helping her, just standing meters away?
Bare toes digging into the sand, Robert made his way out to her. Silently he sat next to the blond. Her eyes left the reflection of the moon on the waves to look at him. Her eyes were rimmed with tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. Her lips parted but he could tell she had no words to share with him. Without needing to be asked, Robert opened his arms for her. The girl quickly scrambled into his lap, burying her face on his shoulder as his arms curled around her body. Before long she trembled with tears. He merely held her as she sobbed, not entirely sure what to say, what she needed to hear.
When her body’s trembles began to abate, he pulled slightly away and kissed her forehead, his fingers reaching up to wipe away her tears. Her face crinkled with emotion once more, inciting Robert to wrap his arms back around her. Her body once more trembled with sobs. There really was no way for him to understand what she was going through. He had always known his father, had lived in a standard, conservative family, one that still wished he had become an accountant instead of a musician. But she... she had spent her whole life being told one man was her father, something she hadn’t believed, only to find out that not only was he in fact not her father but that her mother’s cover story didn’t even pass any test whatsoever. It had to be completely destabilizing. And that, he realized, was why she was crying. Her entire world, entire existence was based upon a lie.
“Baby,” he muttered gently, getting her to look up into his eyes, “I love you, Summer. No matter what, I love you.”
Her bottom lip trembled and she once more buried her face on his shoulder. He could do nothing but hold her, whispering assurances every now and then. It seemed whenever her sobs would cease, some other thought would flit through her mind and the sobs would begin anew. For an hour they sat thusly, long enough that Robert could no longer feel his toes, either from her sitting fairly unmovingly in his lap or from the slight chill that came with the late hour of night. Regardless of the reason, they needed to go inside.
“Baby,” he breathed, brushing her hair from her face, “we should go inside. Can we go inside?”
Her eyes, red and puffy from her on-and-off sobbing went to his and she nodded. Slowly easing her out of his lap, he stretched his legs and wiggled his toes. Waiting for feeling to return, Robert got to his feet, turning to Summer. Without much thought at all, he scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips touching his cheek gently as he began to head up to their bungalow. She reached and opened the door for him as they arrived, figuring Robert was not about to set her down just yet. That much was true. He headed directly to their bedroom, narrowly avoiding furniture in the darkness, and set her on the bed. Kissing her nose, he requested her to remain where she was and disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later Summer heard the sound of running water and instantly knew Robert was filling the bath tub.
He returned a moment later, holding out his hand to her. Summer slipped hers into his, letting him pull her up. His lips touched hers gently and he reached to unzip her party dress. Normally such an act would be so sexually charged there would be threat of him tearing her clothing. But instead Robert carefully undressed her, setting the dress on a nearby chair and removing her jewelry as well. His lips touched hers quickly before he lead her by hand to the bathroom. While Summer slipped into the hot water, Robert shed his clothes quickly and climbed in as well after turning the spout off.
They adjusted in the tub until Summer was once more enfolded in his arms. She closed her eyes, focusing her attention on the heat of the water and the affection from the man who held her. Everything felt like it was in flux, everything except his love. She knew in that moment, it didn’t matter who fathered her, who mothered her, Robert loved her, whoever she was. Their love was strong, as young as it was, and that would have to be enough to live on, survive on. She trusted in his love. It was going to be far more instrumental in her life than anything had been before. It had to be.
“Robert?” she uttered as his fingers gently caressed up and down her arm.
Smiling slightly at the very fact Summer was speaking for the first time in hours, “Yes, baby.”
“Is Bob... Bob Dylan really my father?”
He brushed hair from her eyes, “You do have his eyes, Summer. I can’t give you a definite answer, you’ll need to speak with your mother, but his story... it seemed really heartfelt. And I can see similarities between you and him.”
“But... all my life she told me she met Jerry at Bob’s concert in Greenwich... but he wasn’t even in Greenwich when she could have met Jerry. That means everything I have ever been told in my life... is a lie,” she declared. “I always knew Jerry wasn’t my father, but... but... fuck, Robert... who am I?”
Sitting up straight, which forced her to do so as well, Robert turned her about in the bathtub, meeting her eyes, “You are not defined by your parents, Summer. You are not defined by what your last name may or may not be; you know that. That’s why when Jimmy asked what it was, you couldn’t answer. Your heritage does not make who you are.”
“But then who am I?”
“You are the most caring, playful, sunny, beautiful woman I have ever met. You are perfectly natural and perfectly musical. You are... Summer. There is no one in the entire world like you at all and I thank the stars above every time I see them for blessing me with you,” he responded. “You are the woman I love and the woman I have been searching for all my life.”
Her eyes wavered as she looked at him, “Robert, what... what is going to happen now?”
“Whatever you want to happen, baby. We can get in touch with your mother. You can get in touch with Bob again. We can do nothing. It is completely up to you, Summer,” he responded.
“Can we... can we call my mom?”
“Absolutely. Do you want to right now?”
“I... no. No one would answer the phone at the general store now,” she responded.
“Then we’ll do so first thing in the morning,” Robert proclaimed.
Summer nodded, “I think we should get out of the tub too. It’s kinda gotten cold.”
He smiled crookedly, “That is has.”
Climbing out of the tub, she reached for a towel, but before her fingers could touch it, Robert reached around and snatched it. He wrapped it tightly about her, holding her snugly and kissing her lovingly. For a few long minutes they stood in the bathroom in just that embrace. Her eyes fluttered close and in that moment she did feel all those lovely things he had said about her previously. It didn’t matter who her father was; it only mattered who her love was.
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