Songs for Lucy

By Philip Wilson

It's spring, and Allison Connelly has it all – pretty, popular and smart. With a summer job teaching tennis and starting Harvard Law School in the fall, Allison plans on a successful law career, marriage and kids – and dreams of becoming a Supreme Court Justice. When relentless headaches drive her to her doctor, Allison receives a terrifying diagnosis that destroys her plans and imperils her life. Devastated, Allison struggles to accept her shattered dreams and uncertain future. One night, she happens into a small-town pub and, on a whim, takes a job singing, finding solace and a measure of peace in her music. She settles in the town, and from that small beginning finds love, a new life and
a new reason for living.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Philip Wilson
• Release date: Mar 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781773706610

Book preview

9781773706610.jpg

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Copyright

Chapter 1

Suddenly, Allison felt an agonizing pain over her left eye. Oh God, not now! she thought. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, praying that the pain would subside. Mercifully, it did.

Allie, are you alright? Dean Richardson asked, seeing her grimace.

I’m fine. Just nerves, Allison replied, forcing a smile.

Allison Connelly was among the graduating class of the Boston Highlands University undergraduate business program, and her convocation was about to start. As class valedictorian and part of the Dais Group, she waited with the dean and senior faculty in the anteroom until they were given the signal to proceed down the main aisle and take their seats on the stage. She peered out the doorway into the Convocation Hall. Although the ceremony was about to start, people still wandered up and down the aisles in the vain hope of spotting an empty seat. Others had given up and stood along the sides and at the back. Graduating students, proud parents, friends, and faculty all waited expectantly for the procession to begin. Finally, the bagpipes sounded.

Dean Richardson touched Allison’s arm and smiled warmly. Allie. Walk with me. Surprised to be asked to lead the procession with the dean, Allison moved up beside him and started down the center aisle followed by the rest of the procession. As they headed down the center aisle of the auditorium, the audience turned to watch them approach. Many of Allison’s classmates gave her a discreet thumbs up, and she did her best to acknowledge them without spoiling the solemnity of the event. Towards the front of the auditorium, she spotted her father who had driven up from Providence that morning.

William Connelly watched his daughter with infinite pride and affection. She looked stunning. In contrast to her usual attire of faded jeans and T-shirt, she wore a gray tailored skirt, matching jacket, and navy blouse. Her blond hair, usually loose or in a ponytail, was up, and he was gratified to see her wearing the sapphire pendant and matching earrings he had given her on her twenty-first birthday. He caught her eye and smiled. She grinned back and silently mouthed, Hi Dad. Love you.

The Dais Group reached the front of the auditorium, climbed the stage, and took their seats on the dais. Allison gazed out over the auditorium, surprised at the number of attendees. There were over two hundred students in the graduating class of the undergraduate business program of BHU. Allison knew most of them and considered many of them friends. Together with friends, parents, faculty, and others, they completely filled the eight-hundred-seat auditorium.

Dean Richardson stood and went to the podium. Welcome! And thank you all for coming to share this event. This is a truly great day. To our graduating class, my congratulations for having achieved this important milestone in your life, and best wishes for your future. It is my hope that each and every one of you will remain involved with BHU, join our alumni association, and better still – he stopped and smiled – occasionally donate to our foundation. To the parents and other family members, my sincere gratitude for your support. You can take much credit for the fact that your sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren are here graduating today.

Dean Richardson’s introduction was followed by speeches by the assistant dean and some of the senior faculty. Predictably, many of the speeches went longer than planned and Allison could see the audience becoming restive. There were still two more presentations to come before her Valedictory Address, the last item on the agenda.

Finally, Dean Richardson went to the podium, looked back at Allison, and smiled. It is now my great pleasure and privilege to introduce Allison Connelly to give the Valedictory Address. Allison has made an extraordinary contribution to our school. Not only has she achieved the highest academic standing in her graduating class, but she captained the tennis team – which won the Northeastern Intercollegiate Championship – and was on both the swim and debating teams. Rumor has it that she also sings occasionally at one of the local pubs. I really don’t know when she found time to study. It had been my hope that Allison would stay at BHU and continue with our MBA program, but… I am delighted to announce that she has been accepted into Harvard Law School. While I’m very sorry to lose her, Allison is the first BHU grad to be accepted into HLS in almost a decade and I’m sure you will all share my pride in her achievement. Allison.

There was a burst of applause. Prepared to stand and approach the podium, she again felt a searing pain over her left eye. She remained seated and again breathed deeply, fighting the pain.

Allison, the dean prompted again.

To Allison’s great relief, the pain dissipated. She stood, walked confidently to the podium, and looked out at her classmates and others in the auditorium.

Allison paused and the audience waited expectantly, anticipating the usual salutation acknowledging students, friends and families, alumni, the dean, and the faculty.

Hi guys, Allison began with a smile.

After a pause, they realized that was it: she wasn’t going to go through the inevitable, and boring, list of acknowledgements. There was a burst of laughter, then applause, and then a chant of Way to go, Allie; way to go, Allie. That was their Allie: smart, irreverent, passionate, and funny. Not only was she class valedictorian, she was one of the most popular girls in the school.

You know, Allison continued, "the scariest part about being class valedictorian is having to give the Valedictory Address. It’s supposed to be profound and inspirational. I’m supposed to tell you that it’s our time. That we need to go out into the world and end all wars, eliminate disease and poverty, and save the planet from fossil fuel emissions. All worthy goals. But it’s hard to give a profound and inspirational speech to a bunch of friends who have watched you puke your guts out into the toilet after too much beer."

Again, the room erupted into laughter and then another round of applause. Way to go, Allie! Way to go, Allie!

So, I’m not going to try, she continued. I’m just going to pass on some advice my father once gave me.

Allison paused momentarily, looked down at her father, and smiled. When I first began to play competitive tennis, I played against this girl who was bigger and more powerful. I tried everything, but nothing worked against her. It was a three-set match. I’d lost the first set 6-0, I was down a break in the second, and it seemed to be pretty much over. I was convinced there was no way I could come back. Then, during the changeover, my father came down on court and sat with me. ‘You’re focused on the match,’ he said. ‘You don’t believe you can come back and you’re playing like you expect to lose. Forget the match. Just play the ball. Just try to win the next point. Don’t think about the score or how many sets down you are; just concentrate on hitting the ball back. Forget everything else. Play the ball, not the match.’ It seemed too simple; but with nothing to lose, I gave it a try. After a long, hard-fought rally, I finally won the next point. That single point gave me a tiny boost in confidence, and I sensed that it had planted a tiny seed of doubt in my opponent. I won the next point quickly – and slowly the game began to turn. I won the second set on a tiebreaker and took the third set easily at 6-0, to win the match. Somehow my opponent had gone from being confident to being demoralized. ‘Play the ball, not the match.’ My father’s simple insight helped my tennis and it’s become my motto to live by. Forget trying to save the planet from carbon emissions. You can’t. Just take your bike to school one day a week instead of your car. And the next time you walk into the cafeteria and see your friends at one table and a new student alone and looking a little lost at another, sit with the new student and ask them how it’s going. If, every day, you make the world just a little cleaner, and someone’s life just a little brighter, imagine the impact you’ll make over your lifetime. And if we all do that, imagine the difference we would make. ‘Play the ball, not the match’ – and just maybe, we can win the match.

Allison looked over at her father again and nodded fondly. William Connelly looked back at his daughter and smiled adoringly, fighting to control his emotion. Allison then offered closing remarks by thanking the parents and alumni for their support and the faculty for their dedication. Though one of the shortest valedictory addresses on record, it shone as one of the most memorable. The simple point hit home and Allison received a standing ovation.

Dean Richardson reclaimed the podium, looked affectionately back at Allison, and then glanced out over the audience. What can I say? Way to go, Allie.

The audience erupted with laughter and the students took up the refrain. Way to go, Allie. Way to go, Allie.

After the ceremony, Allison found herself surrounded by her classmates and by parents, alumni, and faculty congratulating her on her address. Through the crowd, she spotted her father, standing aside, observing the attention she was receiving with pride and affection.

When the crowd dissipated a little, she made her way over to him. Hi Dad. Thanks for coming.

I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Great speech.

Allison grinned. You wrote it for me.

Her father laughed. You know, I still remember going onto the court and telling you that – to play the ball, not the match. You couldn’t have been more than twelve. I had no idea you even remembered the incident.

Like it was yesterday. I’ve never forgotten it. As I said, it’s been my motto for life. Allison stretched up and kissed her father on the cheek.

Well. It was beautifully done. Simple, powerful, and effective. You’ll make a fine supreme court justice.

Dad! I haven’t even started law school yet.

Can I ask you something? her father inquired tentatively. Just before you stood to start your speech, you winced and looked like you were in pain. Anything wrong?

It was nothing. Just nerves. Allison decided not to tell her father that she’d been having headaches and that they were becoming more frequent and severe. It was probably just residual stress from the exams and he’d only worry.

Her father studied her briefly, wondering, but let it drop. Allie, I’m so proud of you. Class valedictorian, captain of the tennis team, Harvard Law School… you make your old dad awfully proud.

Thanks, Dad. I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve always been there for me. No matter how badly I screwed up. No daughter ever had a better father.

I wish your mother could have been here. She would have been so proud.

Allison saw her father’s eyes glaze over at the memory. Her mother had died five years ago and her father had never fully gotten over it. She hugged him. I know, Dad. I miss her too.

William Connelly smiled softly. I know you do. So, what’s next?

Actually, just this morning I got an offer to teach tennis at The Granite Hills Tennis Club back in Providence. I need to stay here for a couple more days to clean out my apartment, but then I was hoping to come home for the summer. That is, unless you’ve rented out my room.

That’s fantastic, her father replied, delighted at the prospect of having his daughter home for the summer. And no, I haven’t rented out your room. I was going to drive back tonight, but if there’s any chance you’d have dinner with your old man, I’ll stay over.

A bunch of us planned to go out and celebrate, Allison replied, feeling a little guilty. Can I take a rain check?

"Of course. You should go and celebrate with your friends. You’ve certainly earned it. We’ll have lots of time for dinners over the summer," he replied, regretting he’d even asked, and kissing his daughter on the forehead in farewell.

Thanks, Dad.

Go have fun. Oh, and Allie…

Yeah, Dad?

He grinned at her. Take it easy on the beer.

* * *

When the crowd finally broke up, Allison went back to her apartment to change. The gang would be meeting at their usual pub, Pelican’s Beak. As she slipped back into her jeans, she wished she’d agreed to have dinner with her father. He lived alone now. The thought of him driving back to Providence and having dinner by himself in an empty house while she partied didn’t seem right. Allison’s younger brother had died of leukemia at the age of eight, ten years ago, and her mother had died five years ago of breast cancer, just before Allison moved to Boston to start university. She was all her father had now, and with Allison living in Boston, her father lived alone. At least they would be seeing a lot of each other this summer back in Providence.

Her father had also gone to Harvard Law School and joined a prominent Boston law firm after graduation. Five years later, he had moved to Providence, Rhode Island, fifty miles south of Boston – to start his own law firm. He wanted to be on his own and felt starting up in a smaller city would be easier. There he had met and married her mother, bought a home on the edge of town, and started a family. His fledgling practice had been instantly successful. He’d brought on a partner, Martin Siegel. Connelly & Siegel was now one of the largest firms in Providence. Ironically, they’d grown so much that they’d had to open a second office back in Boston a few years ago.

An hour later, Allison arrived at Pelican’s Beak to find the gang already there and well into the beer. When her friends saw her arrive, they found her a chair and handed her a beer. A chant of Way to go, Allie broke out throughout the pub and Allie smiled sheepishly. Mark Travers found a chair beside her and clinked her glass. Mark and Allie had been going out together for a year. Nothing serious, but they were a good match. Outgoing and popular, Mark also had good marks and captained the hockey team.

Great speech, Mark grinned. I especially liked the ‘Hi guys’ intro. You weren’t planning that, were you?

Allie looked at him and smiled. You must know me well. It just sort of came out.

I liked the ‘play the ball, not the match’ thing too, Mark continued. I was expecting a long boring ‘save the world’ speech. As usual, you nailed it.

Thanks, Allison replied. Any news on the job at Morgan Stanley?

Mark had applied to Morgan Stanley’s Boston office for a summer job. He would be returning to Boston Highlands University next fall to get his MBA and finding a summer job with relevant practical experience was encouraged. Allison hoped he’d get it. With Boston just an hour’s drive from Providence, they could see each other over the summer.

Mark shook his head in obvious disappointment. Just heard today. Didn’t get it. I’m going to have to go back to LA and work with my father’s firm. In fact, I’ve got a flight out in the morning.

So soon? Allison replied, disappointed. She realized that this was probably the last time she’d see him until the fall. Still, Harvard wasn’t that far from Boston, so at least they could reconnect in September when school started.

I know. A bummer. I was hoping to stay at least a few days. What about you?

Just heard this morning. Got a job teaching tennis at a private club back in Providence. I’m going to hang around here for a couple of days to pack and clean out my place.

Teaching tennis at a private club! Sounds brutal.

Allison laughed. I think I’ll survive.

Just then she felt her cell vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw the call came from Boston Western Hospital. Odd, she thought.

Hello? she answered.

Is this Allison Connelly?

Yes, it is, Allison replied, barely able to hear. She left the table and went to a quiet corner of the room.

Your father is William Connelly?

Yes.

I’m calling from Boston Western Hospital.

Yes? The statement confirmed her fears and she felt a terrible sinking sensation in her stomach.

I’m terribly sorry to have to tell you that your father’s here in intensive care. He has been in an auto accident.

Oh, my God! Is he alright?

"We don’t know yet. It is serious. He’s in a coma. We need to operate to relieve pressure on his brain."

Allison went numb.

If it’s possible, we suggest you come to the hospital as soon as you can.

I’m on my way! I’ll be there in half an hour.

Chapter 2

Allison made it to Boston Western Hospital in twenty minutes – praying she wouldn’t be stopped for speeding. She rushed to the reception desk in the ICU. I’m Allison Connelly. I was told my father, William Connelly, is here.

Before the nurse could check her records, a doctor approached Allison. I’m Doctor Patel. I’m looking after your father. I’m about to take him into surgery, but you can see him for a minute first. He’s in a coma so he won’t be responsive. Follow me.

What happened?

Auto accident on I-95. The police just left. Apparently, your father was sideswiped by a drunk driver. Your father’s car went into a ditch and flipped over. The other car careened into a truck and the driver was killed instantly. I have the name of the investigating officer if you want it.

How is my father? Allison asked frantically, following the doctor.

"We don’t know yet. He is seriously injured – broken pelvis and other internal injuries – but the most critical issue is a fractured skull. Some of the skull fragments are embedded in his brain and he’s in a coma. I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s not clear yet whether he will make it. If he does pull through, it will be days before we determine the extent of the brain damage."

Brain damage? Oh God! Allison knew her father. If the choice was surviving with brain damage or not making it, he’d choose to die.

Don’t jump to conclusions. There may be none. If there is, it may be mild and temporary.

They reached the hospital room and her heart dropped. Her father was lying there, heavily bandaged and hooked up to an assortment of tubes, wires, and monitors. Tears running down her face, she took her father’s hand and squeezed. Oh Daddy, oh Daddy. I’m so sorry. Please get better. I need you so much.

Suddenly one of her father’s eyes opened. Allison saw a spark of recognition and felt his hand squeeze hers. Then it was gone and her father lay there limply.

As the nurses began to wheel her father to the operating room, Doctor Patel touched her shoulder. Allison. The surgery will take at least a couple of hours. Why don’t you wait in the waiting room and I’ll come and find you when it’s over?

Thanks, Doctor, she replied numbly.

Allison went back to the waiting room and slumped into a chair, sobbing uncontrollably. If only she’d agreed to have dinner with her father, they’d be in a restaurant somewhere, drinking wine and laughing. Her father wasn’t just her father; he was her best friend, soulmate, confidant, and life coach. With her mother gone, her brother gone, and not even any aunts or uncles, he was her only family. They usually talked once a week and texted almost daily. Even when they hadn’t connected for a while, she knew he was there, probably thinking about her, ready with help, advice, sympathy, or to just listen whenever she wanted to talk. She just couldn’t imagine her life without him. He had to pull through. He had to.

Doctor Patel reappeared in less than an hour, looking grim. Seeing Allison, he guided her into an adjoining office. Allison. I’m so terribly sorry.

Allison looked at him in horror, hoping in vain that she’d misunderstood.

Doctor Patel shook his head in silent confirmation. Your father sustained a lot of brain damage. Even if he had survived, he would have been severely incapacitated.

Allison began to sob. This couldn’t be happening.

Doctor Patel tried to comfort her. Is there someone I can phone? Your mother, maybe?

My mother died a few years ago.

I’m so sorry, Doctor Patel replied. Can I call you a cab? Is there anything I can do?

Allison simply stared at him. Just hours ago, her father had been with her, laughing, smiling, exuding his usual love and pride in her achievements. Now he was dead. She’d never see him smile or hear him laugh again. After a long silence, Allison stepped back, fighting to control her grief. I’ll be okay. What happens now?

Don’t worry about anything now. Just go home. Call the administration office in the morning. They’ll handle everything. If you want to talk to me, just tell them.

Thanks, Doctor, she barely managed.

Somehow Allison drove back to her apartment where she collapsed onto her bed, sobbing. Why hadn’t she agreed to dinner? Now he was gone. After a long time, she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Allison woke up with an excruciating headache. Stumbling into the bathroom, she vomited into the toilet. After a few minutes, the pain subsided and her stomach settled. She had a shower, managed to eat a bowl of cereal, and made herself some coffee. She felt like crawling back into bed and shutting out the world, but she forced herself to focus.

She checked her phone for messages. There were calls from several of her friends who wondered where she’d disappeared to so early the previous evening. Mark had left a voicemail saying he was about to catch his plane to LA and was sorry he’d missed her. Remembering Doctor Patel’s request, she called the hospital administration office and was curtly informed they could hold the body for up to a week, but she needed to make arrangements to have it removed. It’s not a body, you asshole; it’s my father!

Her father. The man who had raised her, taught her to ride a bicycle, kissed her knee better when she fell off, and then helped her back on to try again. The man who had cheered for her, consoled her, and laughed with her was now just the body. She broke into tears again.

Later, she phoned her father’s partner, Martin Siegel. Martin was her father’s closest friend. With no blood relatives, Martin and his wife, Marion, were the closest Allison had to an uncle and aunt.

Hi Allie. Great to hear from you. Congratulations on…

My father has been killed in an auto accident…

After a moment’s silence, Martin Siegel said, Sorry, Allie, I’m not sure…

He was driving back to Providence after my convocation. Hit by a drunk driver, I understand. He died in the hospital last night, Allison stammered.

Oh, my God, Allie. I am so sorry, Martin blurted out in disbelief. Are you alright?

No, I’m definitely not alright. Allison began to sob.

Where are you?

I’m still in Boston. I was planning to clean out my apartment and come back to Providence in a couple of days anyway… I…

You shouldn’t be alone, Allie, Martin exclaimed. Marion and I will come and get you. We can be there in just over an hour. You can go back to Boston and sort out your apartment later.

Allison hesitated. "Thanks. Maybe I will come back this morning. But I can drive. My car’s here."

You’re sure you can drive yourself?

I’ll be fine.

Okay, Martin Siegel replied, uneasily. Be careful! I’ll be in the office all day. When you get back, come by and we can talk.

Thanks. I will. I don’t know what I need to do. You know – arrange a funeral, sort out my father’s stuff. And the hospital wants me to make arrangements to move… Allison started to sob again. I’m sorry. I’m not handling this very well.

Don’t worry about a thing. Marion and I will help you through it all. Just get yourself here and we can sort it all out.

Okay. Thanks, Martin. Allison sniffled.

Allison stuffed some clothes in a suitcase and took the elevator down to her car.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Allison was on the I-95 back to Providence. It was early May and winter had finally released its grip. The fields were green, the trees were rich with foliage, and wild flowers boomed by the roadside; but Allison drove on, oblivious to it all. Wracked by grief, she focused solely on keeping her car on the road. An hour later, she pulled up to her father’s law office building. Even seeing the sign Connelly & Siegel brought fresh tears to her eyes.

Rather than rent offices in a typical office building, Martin Siegel and her father had bought and renovated an old rooming house. They’d converted the living room into a reception area, the dining room into a meeting room, and the bedrooms into offices for the growing number of associate lawyers. They’d soon outgrown the original building and had to build an extension out the back.

Hearing Allison’s car drive up, both Martin and Marion Siegel rushed out to greet her. As soon as Allison got out of her car, Marion Siegel hugged her warmly. Oh Allie, we’re so, so terribly sorry. It’s tragic. And on the very day of your graduation! Are you okay?

Allison began to tear up. "I don’t think it’s sunk in yet. I half expected my father to come out the door."

Come on in, Marion continued, guiding her into the house. Would you like some coffee?

Or some wine? Martin added.

Allison smiled faintly. Maybe I’ll take the wine.

Martin poured two glasses of wine and Marion made coffee. Seated in the small living room, Martin and Marion both looked at Allison sorrowfully. They had known Allison since she was a baby. Now, in front of them, sat an attractive young woman. Tall, blond, and blue-eyed. Allison had been through so much tragedy, they thought. Her younger brother, Thomas, had died after a long fight with leukemia when Allison was thirteen. Her mother, Louise, had died of breast cancer when Allison was eighteen – and now her father. She was all alone now. Not even any aunts, uncles, or cousins.

Martin knew how much Bill Connelly