Blue Moon 14.0 - Bold, Wise and True

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Blue Moon
Blue Moon
by Donna Lamb
Lyrics by Erin Halfelven

The cops let Jill and Jo ride in the ambulance to the hospital where Richard was pronounced D.O.A. Sitting on a plastic chair in the emergency room with Jill holding her hands, Jo wept. “By all that’s merciful,” she prayed, “I wish I were the one who got shot instead of Richard.”

* * *

"That's not a wish!" howled Sophie.

"Of course it is, it's even in the subjunctive," said Ted. He sipped bad hospital coffee and looked around himself in the doctor's lounge. He'd once been a monk in a sixteenth century hospital and the advance in technology fascinated him.

"I still can't grant it," grumbled Sophie. "I can't bring Richard back to life and you know it. Nor can I conveniently have him be dead from some other cause since he's a Defender and under retro-active protection from extra-mundane causes of death." She stuck her tongue out at Ted, then sucked on the watery remains of the highball she'd carried from Wrangler Jill's. Her expression matched the ones that had made Lemon Eater Jones famous.

Ted smiled at her. "That's two you've failed to grant, third time's the charm, my lovely."

"Oh, stuff it," Sophie snarled. "She's still got half an hour to mess up the third wish."

"Your third try at a third wish, you mean. A red oak barbecue feast in Santa Maria says she doesn't," offered Ted, smiling over his coffee cup.

Sophie grimaced. "Petty side bet."

"Linguica sausage, tri-tip, pinquito beans. Win or lose, you get to eat in Santa Maria which you've been banned from doing for seventy-four years since you tricked that priest into barbecuing his own donkey."

"It was a joke! Okay, okay. Uh, that's not a square bet."

Ted beamed at her. "Either way we eat well, but you win, the ban is over, twenty-five years sooner than scheduled; you lose, the ban lasts another seventy-five years."

Sophie's mouth was already watering. Gluttony was one of her favorite sins. "Portuguese red wine?" she offered.

"And locally brewed beer," he nodded.

They wrapped thumbs across the rickety table and kissed their own elbows which supernatural beings can do without risk.

"Twenty-five minutes till midnight and the end of Oddfellows Day," commented Sophie.

Ted smiled slyly at her. "So it is, so it is."

* * *

In the emergency room, the tall ginger-haired woman sat beside Richard's gurney, holding his dead hand. "We never...." Jo said to Jill. "We ... m-might have...." She trailed off.

"You loved him," Jill said, not asking.

"I think so. How do you know? I don't think I'd ever been in love b-before." She patted Richard's sleeve. Her swollen eyes and nose had turned her beauty into a picture of heartbreak but she remained unaware of this effect.

Jill smiled. So young, she thought.

"We were ...going to write songs together. Live together. I can't ... I can't b-believe this. After everything that has happened, now, now ...." She trailed off. She sobbed once but her tears were gone, her throat raw from dehydration. "Last night I was so m-mad at him! I can't believe that."

A doctor came in, her face pinched with concern. "Um. Miss Thiery? The police are here. They need to see ... the body."

Jo gasped. Jill seized her in a hug, pulling her away from Richard's body.

* * *

"I can't watch this," Richard told the voice. "Jo is hurting, this isn't right." Unlike Limbo, there are tears in heaven because physical bodies are restored. In Richard's case, he looked much like he had while alive but wore a white linen suit with an ice-pink shirt and a blue and yellow Escher-fish-bird-print tie. He made a very stylish angel.

Wiping a tear from his eye, Richard turned away from the wide-screen plasma display in the family room of his new, ranch-style, heavenly mansion. The room looked empty but Richard knew the voice could hear him.

"If you to accept the position as for Clarence to Melody Jo, you may having to be watched such scenes," said the rumbly voice. "Sadness happens in mortal lives."

"I know," said Richard. "I've only been dead a few minutes here, let me get used to the idea." A Laz-E-Boy chair very much like one his father had owned occupied the proudest place in the handsomely decorated room. Richard flopped into the chair, an action that used to get him yelled at. "You know, Mr. Gumro, I just don't think I'm ready to be dead."

The voice chuckled. "Your own Clarence, Ted o'Mersey, am working on that."

Richard looked up, even though the voice seemed to come from everywhere. "What?"

"An unmade wish is like an unmade bed, a temptation."

"The wish I didn't make? But Jo ..." his voice caught in his throat. "Jo ... made that wish. The devil didn't grant it. Thank ... thank you."

The voice chuckled. "Oh, the G in Gmunro does not stand for God. This estimable person am only to being a Principality." The African giant entered the family room from the hall to the kitchen, munching an enormous Dagwood that seemed to include a slice of pumpkin pie in its layers. "When I grow up, being an entire country I am," he rumbled with amusement.

Richard laughed, surprising himself.

Gmunro didn't have his canes or his glasses but his scars and pockmarks still wreathed his enormous smile. "You not to meeting Himself until you permanent resident. You still on tourist visa." He shook a fat finger. "Not even green card!"

Richard had to laugh again. "You mean I'm an illegal alien in Heaven? Mi abuelita, my grandmother, would be so embarrassed!"

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" shouted Gmunro, like a big, black, Christmas elf.

Richard couldn't have believed he could laugh so much at such a time but Gmunro's chortles were infectious.

Gmunro straightened his face out. "Now three things you needing to know are:

"One, I going to tell you grandmother what you say. Ho, ho!

"Two, why you not to having deli mustard?" He waved the Dagwood. "This much better to be making deli mustard with." He took a bite and chewed with much enjoyment.

"Um, three?" Richard asked. Personally, yellow mustard was fine with him but he made a note to always have deli mustard, too -- for his friends.

Gmunro swallowed. "Three, Jo is to making third try at third wish. Got you temporary assignment as Clarence to help her making rightly." He eyed the much shrunken sandwich, choosing where to bite next.

Richard looked at the big screen where Jill still held Jo but now in the outer room of Emergency. The surviving members of I-NO-Y had arrived, too, Bugs still wearing his guitar on his back. Tom Harmon, Andie Moore and Beverly Messenger were also on their way, he knew, not pausing to consider how he knew such things. Further away but also coming were Richard's own parents and his sisters.

"She doing anything to having you back. Very dangerness. You take the job?"

"Yes," said Richard. "She's got to make some wish besides wanting to take the bullet for me."

Gmunro nodded benignly and took another bite of the Dagwood. Seeing Richard's expression, he offered the sandwich to the new Clarence.

"No thanks," said Richard smiling. "I wouldn't want to bite off more than I can chew."

"Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!" laughed Gmunro with his mouth full.

* * *

Jo wiped her eyes and pulled away from Wrangler Jill. What had been the comfort one woman offers another in distress seemed to be verging on something else. "Um?" said Jo, looking at Jill.

Jill smiled. "Sorry. I didn't think you bent both ways. Too bad for little old me." She called to another woman just entering the emergency room. "Andie come over here and console me."

Andie Moore came over to the pair and gave both quick hugs. "I'm so sorry, Jo. My dad told me how you had just lost your brother a few months ago."

"Your dad?" asked Jo, looking confused.

"Tom Harmon is my dad, we'd been putting this band together for you since the week after Christmas. Then Gogie got shot ... but you showed up with a drummer. And he gets shot...." She stopped talking and they all looked at each other, appalled at what had just occurred to them.

"It's..." said Jo.

"...just like..." said Jill.

"Spinal Tap!" gasped Andie.

They laughed in spite of themselves, but Jo's giggles quickly turned to sobs. "I'm sorry, sorry," she said. Pushing herself away from their embraces, she stumbled through the electric doors to the internal patio where a few lonely smokers sat in exile among the vending machines.

* * *

Richard stepped into the doctor's lounge, on his first assignment as a temporary Guardian Angel 3rd Class, Probationary, feeling more than a bit out of place. A young doctor stepped right through him when he paused to get his bearings. "That's going to take some getting used to," he muttered. He had another surprise coming, watching the young woman walk away. "Well, there's dead and there's dead, I guess," he said.

A burly man in bush ranger clothes sitting with a slender redhead wearing an evening gown waved him over. "Oi! Richard!"

Sophie Drake did a double take when she saw him. "What are you doing here?" she asked. She turned to Ted and demanded, "What's he doing here?"

Richard grabbed a chair from another table, noting that the chair both stayed where it was and came when he pulled it. Turning it around, he sat down on the chair, back to front, and flipped his Escher tie at Sophie. "Shoo! Shoo! Get away!" he said in a firm voice.

"He can't talk to me like that!" she protested to the English-born Clarence.

"He's -- he's -- he, he, he!" sputtered Ted, laughing.

"I'm afraid you might start humping my leg, is what he's trying to tell you," said Richard in a steady voice, looking directly into the emerald green eyes of the Devil in Drag.

Ted howled.

"Ho! Ho! Hee! Hee!" sneered Sophie. "Like I haven't heard that one before. What are you doing here?"

"I'm Jo's guardian angel," said Richard. He narrowed his eyes. "And I'm watching you for tricks. I hear you can do tricks."

Ted, still chuckling, pointed a thumb at Richard. "In the American vernacular -- he's pissed, old girl."

"I thought you were Jo's clarence," Sophie snapped.

"Nope. I'm his." Ted pointed at Richard again before taking another swallow of the really awful coffee served in the hospital lounge. "Glah!" he said. He looked into the cup."Forgot how bad this truly is."

"Ha!" Sophie laughed. "Have you also forgotten you got your client killed? Otherwise he wouldn't be here, because you have to be dead to be a clarence!"

Ted waggled a finger. "Ah, but to quote a famous movie, 'He's only mostly dead.' He won't be really dead until midnight if -- If! -- you refuse to let me grant Jo's third wish and take a thousand years of ..."

Sophie interrupted, "Or if his girlfriend makes a wish I can grant between now and midnight!"

"That's my job," said Richard. "To make sure she does. Otherwise my license to angel gets revoked." He started to rise.

"Jo's in the visitor's patio," said Ted.

"I know," said Richard, sitting back down. "I just came here to do this." He reached across the table, grabbed Sophie's chin in his left hand and slapped her across the face with his right -- hard! -- forehand and backhand. Then he stood and left the room, whistling the melody from "Why the Moon is Blue".

"You took that well," remarked Ted, peering once again into the evil depths of his coffee cup.

"Eh!" Sophie said. She rubbed a cheek. "I had it coming. Besides, I kind of like the kid." She conjured two more highball glasses, full ones, and passed one to Ted.

Ted smiled. "He's my hero, too. Cheers!" He drank.

"Mud in your eye," agreed Sophie.

* * *

In the emergency waiting room, Bugs had pulled his guitar around and began picking out a slow mournful version of "The Fool on the Hill."

"Gimme that thing," Lemon demanded. Bugs passed the guitar over, causing Kylie's eyes to widen.

"Never seen you do that before," she commented.

"Who gives a shit," Bugs muttered. Kylie patted his hand, knowing he was jonesing for a smoke. He'd been quit only six months and sometimes bit his fingers to stop the cravings. Stress brought them back with a vengeance.

"How you got this tuned, Ahab?" asked Lemon. "Oh, open-G. I can do this." He strummed a few chords then began singing softly:

We will meet again. Don't know where. Don't know when.
But we will meet again, some summer day.

"Sunny day," said Kylie, helpfully.

"Who singin' this?" asked Lemon. Pretty soon, everyone in the waiting room was -- quietly, mostly to themselves.

The optimistic beauty of the song struck Richard as he entered from the hall to the treatment rooms. His face twisted up like he'd bit into a lemon and he paused to get control of himself. Then he walked over to Lemon Eater and whispered in his ear. "Gogie's still alive. He's going to make it. I got it on the highest authority."

Lemon nodded, lifting his voice a little.

Richard turned and walked toward the electric-eye-operated door to the patio, glad that his sisters and parents had not yet arrived. He wondered vaguely if the door would open automatically for him or if he would have to walk through the glass and steel itself. The old-fashioned schoolhouse-type clock showed the time as ten to twelve.

* * *

The side of the little hidden patio that would get the most sun held a tiny garden. Jo kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the close-clipped rye grass between the rows of winter-blooming flowers. She shivered, even in Southern California, going barefoot in the winter is cold.

Looking up, she saw a tiny patch of sky holding only a moon that looked just as full as it had the previous night. The surrounding lights of Los Angeles washed out any stars and the moon showed yellow-orange from the downtown smog.

Three smokers drinking Pepsi and vending machine coffee and eating Cheez-Nips watched her, wondering if they'd ever seen her in a movie or something.

"What good are you?" Jo asked the moon. "I keep wishing and w-wishing and nothing happens. I want Richard back. That's all. I just want Richard b-back. I don't want to be a b-boy again or nothing else. I don't care if I never sing again, I just w-want Richard."

She sobbed, putting her hand over her mouth. "Is that too much to ask? I just w-want Richard b-back, if only long enough to say goodbye!"

Behind her, the automatic door opened and she heard Lemon singing and playing. The smokers turned to look but saw no one come through the door.

* * *

"That was a wish," said Sophie.

"And this is an argument," said Ted. "You know that wasn't a wish, you just want to argue."

"Okay, okay?" said Sophie. "But if it were a wish...." She stopped. "Well, he's already back, she just can't see him." She debated with herself whether granting such a wish would actually get her off the hook but she didn't see a pathway to damnation.

Richard's death had wounded Jo terribly but she remained far from the sort of grieving despair that would lead her to mortal sin. Seeing his ghost would not be likely to push her over the edge; she had achieved a remarkable degree of centering in just a few hours. She loved life and was not ready to quit it, despite the terrible loss she felt. "That damned rabbit," said Sophie.

"Who? Oh. Well, why worry about it? My boy isn't going to let her make any foolish wishes."

"How's he going to stop her?"

Ted considered. "Kiss her, I expect. It's what I'd do."

* * *

"Jo, can you see me?" Richard asked.

She hadn't even glanced in his direction when the electric door got out of his way.

He stepped closer. "Jo, can you hear me?"

She didn't respond, still standing in the tiny garden looking up at the moon.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Jo, can you feel me?"

She shivered, turning slightly. The closing door cut off Lemon's singing.

She turned as he pulled her towards him and she also stayed where she had stood. Like the chair, thought Richard, awed at the wonder of it.

"Richard!" she exclaimed. She embraced him in a hug, or her spirit did while her body stayed standing there looking up at the moon, eyes closed, lips moving in what might be a prayer.

They kissed in the moonlight, the angelic ghost and the living spirit.

* * *

"Oh, Barry," said Gmunro. "What to becoming of a man so blind to others? So deaf to spirit, so numb to love?" The big man, sans canes and eyeglasses, sat beside the assemblyman on a bench in the Hollywood Division police station. Policeman glanced at Barry from time to time but no one seemed to notice the African giant sitting beside him.

Barry held his head in his hands. "Is it my fault?" he whispered.

Gmunro pushed his lips out to consider. "Not the entire watermelon, no. I provided the seed, just a small .25 caliber seed, and Cherie to pulled the trigger. But were you not being of a compleat onager, who would be needful of the measure of a hero?"

Barry wept. "I'm so sorry, so sorry, for what happened. That boy is dead and Cherie may go to prison because of me."

"And if you not to learning the difference between lust and love, Barry, you are to going of Hell." Gmunro, sighed. "And then I will be failing my duty. But you not been going be my first failure as Guardian Angel in four hundred of years!" He wagged a fat, invisible finger at his client. "Nobody is to damnation on my wristwatch!"

* * *

In the golden moonlight, they kissed again. "Did you come back to say goodbye to m-me?" she whispered.

He shook his head, his spectral stubble brushing her spiritual cheek. "No. Let's not say good-bye, let's say 'We'll meet again,' like the song. Jo, I'm not going anywhere. I'll always be with you."

"B-but...."

He kissed her again. "I'll be here. You won't see me, but I'll be close by, watching over you."

"Am I dreaming?" she asked, snuggling into his embrace.

"Not exactly. I'm using some angelic power I don't understand yet to send you this vision. Because ... because you have to make another wish."

"But I've been wishing and w-wishing and nothing happens," she said.

"That's because ... well, you can't wish me back to life and that's what you were trying to do. But wishes come in threes, so you have till midnight to make your third wish."

"I can't ... I can't?" her eyes filled with tears.

He kissed her again. "Shh. Shh. Don't cry. I love you Jo. I always will. Now is that anything to cry about?"

She shook her head. "I never thought I'd fall in love with a m-man," whispered Jo. "And certainly not you." She giggled and sobbed at the same time.

Richard laughed out loud. "I think you were always meant to be Melody Jo. Some kind of mistake was made and now things are fixed and you're who you're supposed to be."

"Um m-maybe. But I'm not all me w-without you. We're a set. Haven't you felt that since I changed?" She snuggled her spirit into his angelic embrace.

"Yes, I did." Richard paused. "I'm not going to go away, I'll always be here for you. Just not like I am right now."

"You m-mean we can't do this -- a lot? Any time we w-want."

"You're not a nun, Jo. Too frequent contact with the spirit realm would cause you to lose your grip on the world you have to live in."

"What if...."

He put a finger on her lips. "Don't say it. Time heals, Jo. Now think about the wish you need to make. I can't tell you what to wish for but it has to be something that doesn't benefit just you and that harms -- no one. Otherwise the devil will be able to twist your wish."

"I -- The devil?"

"The devil is very real and she's evil," Richard said solemnly. That's why you have to follow rules very exactly."

"She?" Jo's spirit cocked her head and looked at Richard sideways.

"Never mind. Think about the wish, Jo. You have to get it right because we only get one more try. My first wish caused the problem and I'm sorry about that, then you made a wish and we only get one more."

Jo opened her mouth again but Richard kissed her into silence. "Not yet. Close your eyes and take at least a minute to think before you say anything."

Jo closed her spirit eyes. Moving gently, Richard slipped Jo's spirit back into her body because a spirit wish wouldn't necessarily be granted for her body. Jo could no longer see or hear him or feel his touch but he kissed her again, "Not goodbye, Jo. Just till we meet again."

He stepped away, watching Jo mumble prayers in the moonlight, trancelike but not asleep. It all depended on Jo now.

* * *

Not that he needed to breathe anyway, but Ted made a conscious effort not to hold his breath. "How about them Angels, eh? Think they helped themselves with those winter trades?"

Sophie looked at him sharply. "You're up to something, aren't you?"

"Who me?" Ted looked innocent then fanned a deck of cards in her face. "Pick a card, any card."

"What the hell is going on?" She slapped the cards away, they were all the Queen of Hearts.

"Wrong domain. It's two minutes to midnight and I don't want you to keep Jo from making another wish."

"I want her to make another wish, idiot. One I can grant, one I will grant and win both of our bets."

"Yeah, sure, and I'm Henry the VIII's seventh wife. Just call me Madam Tudor."

"Cretin. Fool. You're trying to distract me so I won't hear the wish. But I will hear it and I will grant it! Jo's soul will be mine."

"Right sure," agreed Ted. "So if you hear this wish you're going to do what?"

"I'm going to grant it! Damn you!" Then the devil saw the trap she'd fallen into. "Damn you, Clarence!" she screamed.

"Thrice sworn is thrice bound!" said Ted, triumphantly.

"Not yet!" The Devil in Drag stood up, knocking over the very real chair she'd been sitting in and startling everyone in the lounge. "She's still got to make the right wish! And she doesn't know what it is!"

* * *

In the garden, Jo stood alone. It all depended on her now.

Joel Messenger had delighted in puzzles. That sense of fun had drawn him to both music and programming, fields in which his talent for seeing interconnections and patterns enabled him to excel. First as Joel in the world of computers and abstract things called databases, then, at least for one day, as Jo in the world of music performance.

And now Jo realized she had a puzzle to work out and a deadline in which to do it. There had to be a way to get everything she wanted out of this situation involving sacred and profane magics. And she felt the secret lay in the number three. Turn that puzzle the right way and everything else had to fall into line and make a complete picture.

She stood, apparently alone in the moonlit garden, but around her spirits gathered. Joel's dead father stood there beside her right hand, spiritual tears running down his face. Mr. and Mrs. Thierry, Melody's retroactive adopted parents, stood behind her, beaming with pride and love. And on her left hand stood a little girl in a set of yellow bunny suit pajamas -- looking solemn but cute, and remarkably like a younger Jo. She took her big sister's hand in her own small one and waited for things to work out.

Richard still stood where he had been, right in front of Jo, looking into her face from inches away. He wanted to kiss her again but dared not take the chance on distracting her.

Behind him stood Mr. Dar Gmunro, an ancient and honorable spirit, the Principality of Limbo Dnuro, holder of the Office of Heavenly Provocateur, Father Confusor to Angelic Hosts, Sorceror Supreme and other offices arcane, divine and obscure. Most especially, obscure. His scars and pockmarks wreathed his smile, secure in the knowledge that Heaven always wins -- eventually.

* * *

Jo reasoned like this:

I have to make a third wish before midnight -- and Richard, or Richard's ghost, says it has to benefit more than just me and harm no one more than it harms me. How? What kind of wish would that be?

Everything started when Richard made a wish on the Blue Moon to sleep with a beautiful girl. So ... the devil, or whoever, (Jo wasn't sure she actually believed in the devil, except perhaps as a bug in the System.), granted that wish by changing me into my own sister who died at birth. There's some complications there that don't make sense but I'll ignore them until it seems to make a difference.

Later I made a wish that things would be easier and I started feeling more like myself and the devil, or whoever, (And Jo had a real problem imagining that some Satanic force arranged for her to find her own toy rabbit, Dunny, that had been buried with her sister.), granted that wish by giving me access to, to Melody Jo Thierry's life and I still don't quite understand that. Again, I'll have to ignore complications that don't seem to make sense, right away -- like Barry and his wife.

Then that weird guy, G'munro. He knew about the wishes. What did he say? First wish, Beauty. Second wish, Wealth. Which sort of fits -- but the mistake is to wish for Happiness third. No, he said "unwise," that it's Unwise to wish for Happiness third.

Jo knew what the third wish had to be.

* * *

"You're winning," said the Devil in Drag.

"I know," said Ted the Clarence, trying not to look smug.

"I might say your little con-job was almost diabolical."

Ted considered. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one," Sophie admitted. She made a face. "Do you think she'll figure out the rest of it?"

Ted grinned widely, showing ancient British teeth that had never known a dentist in life. "Count on it," he said.

Sophie groaned.

* * *

"I w-wish -- I wish we were all w-wise enough to know what we should do and just bold enough to do it," said Jo out loud. Spirits around her cheered.

Nothing noticeable happened, but Jo didn't stop there.

* * *

Sophie sighed and raised her highball glass. "Here's to Jo's long life, because it's the only way I, the Adversary, can grant wisdom."

Ted raised his glass, too. "And to everyone else involved in this affair's long life -- and growing wisdom."

"And boldness, I bet you didn't expect that part."

"Well, no. But she's already wise enough to not wish to be brave."

Sophie shook her head. "I can't do true bravery, that's part of character, overcoming fear -- but boldness is lack of fear. I can do that, I'm the Queen of Fear. That 'just' in there is a kicker, too. The girl's been sandbagging. That boy of yours is a heck of a Clarence, ain't he? Too bad you're out of a job now."

"Don't be too sure," said Ted.

"And Gmunro is Barry the Louse's Guardian? Never suspected that. Who's the redhead's Clarence?"

"The little girl in the bunny suit," said Ted, smiling.

Sophie rolled her eyes and tossed off the rest of her drink. "Damn it. Sandbagged all the way."

* * *

Jo didn't stop because she knew that behind every good puzzle is another deeper puzzle:

That was the third wish, counting from Richard's original. Wishes come in threes.

But that was only my second wish. I'm entitled to a third wish, myself, not counting Richard's.

But the devil can't grant the wish I want to make.

But I haven't been wishing to the devil.

She spoke aloud, fifteen seconds to midnight. "Third time redeems all! By Divine Justice, I claim my third wish! On the Honor of Heaven, I wish I were the only one hit by the bullet fired by Cherie in Wrangler Jill's earlier tonight."

* * *

"I'll take this one," said Ted.

"Be my guest," Sophie agreed. "I'm outta here."

* * *

The twenty-five caliber slug struck her high on the right side of her chest, shattering her collarbone. The bullet followed the broken bone along her shoulder finally lodging in the upper joint of her right arm.

Richard twisted and lunged with the impact, trying to keep her in his arms. He went down to his knees, then lay her on the floor and crouched over her, protecting her from another shot.

"Jo!" he screamed.

* * *

Epilog

Neither of them watched the local news broadcast on the small television suspended from the ceiling. The muted sound didn't attract their attention and for a long while neither said anything. Outside the window, the sun peeped over the mountains on one of those brilliant February mornings that people move to Los Angeles to enjoy. It would get up to eighty degrees F, later; a warm day with most of the smog blown out to sea on a rare east wind.

The silence continued, comfortable but with a hint of waiting. The room brightened. Finally, the man in the chair stirred.

He pulled an acoustic guitar from around his back, a habit he'd picked up from a friend. His fingers had gotten raw and sore from all the picking and playing he'd done in the days since the night of the blue moon but you can't bring a drum kit into a hospital room.

"I wrote a song for you," Richard told the slender figure in the hospital bed. "I'll just strum the chords, Bugs has a nice picking pattern for it but I'm not that good."

The simple progression, G, Em, C, D, lent itself to the melancholy verses and kept him well within his range.

I lie awake through lonely nights
Just trying to forget.
I should go out to the city lights
'Stead of staying home to fret.

 

I've closed the drapes and pulled the blind
'Cause I know we may be through
But something keeps you on my mind --
I'm not done with loving you.

 

Was I too young, my love too tender,
Why do these questions start?
When darkness falls I know I'll remember
The night you broke my heart.

 

The days go by like roadside signs
Asking don't I need some rest?
But the question that's still on my mind
Is did I fail some test?

 

And running through the lonely night
Down a track so straight and true
The answer is still clear and bright --
I'm not done with loving you.

 

Was I too young, my love too tender,
Why do these questions start?
When darkness falls I know I'll remember
The night you broke my heart.

"It'll sound prettier when you sing it," said Richard.

"What's it called?" Jo asked, her voice sleepy from the medication.

"The Night You Broke My Heart," he said.

"I didn't, did I?"

He sighed. "Well, yes, you did. You nearly did because you almost died. The bullet nicked an artery and you bled -- a lot." He looked uncomfortable; remembering the night of the shooting always gave him a lump in the throat and made him feel as if he had a case of double vision. If Angelynne Foster with her first aid training hadn't been nearby, Jo might have bled out before the paramedics arrived. Richard knew he would never have thought of using ice on a bullet wound to slow the bleeding.

She shook her head, a small movement because she had nearly fallen asleep while he sang. "I'm okay. I'll have to write some new verses 'cause the name of the song is 'I'm Not Done With Loving You'." She smiled up at him before closing her eyes.

The attendant and surgical nurses appeared in the doorway. He nodded at them and they released the brakes on Jo's bed to wheel her down to surgery again. The surgeons had got the bullet out the night of the shooting but they had to go back in to repair some of the damage done and keep her shoulder joint from being permanently frozen.

He got up to stand by the bed for a moment and the nurses paused long enough for him to gently place a kiss on Jo's cheek. The pre-surgery medication had taken full effect and she didn't stir but a small smile seemed to twitch at the corners of her mouth.

After the gurney and attendants had gone, Richard sat alone in the empty room, playing with chords in the early morning light. He imagined Jo's voice lifting the song above his pedestrian chords. He sang:

I lie awake through lonely nights
Just trying to forget.
I should go out to the city lights
'Stead of staying here to fret.

 

I've pulled the drapes and closed the blind
All day long and all night through
Something keeps you on my mind --
I'm not done with loving you.

 

Was I too young, my love too tender,
Why do these questions start?
When darkness falls I know I'll remember
The night you stole my heart.

 

The days go by like roadside signs
Asking don't I need some rest?
But the question that's still on my mind
Is did I fail some test?

 

And running through the lonely night
Down a track so straight and true
The answer is still clear and bright --
I'm not done with loving you.

 

Was I too young, my love too tender,
Why do these questions start?
When darkness falls I know I'll remember
The night you stole my heart.

Richard wiped his eyes and slung the guitar across his back again. "Arnie should have been here to record that, I'll never sing it that well again." He smiled. "But Jo will."

Something on the television caught his attention and he retrieved the remote from it's metal basket on the wall to turn the sound up.

Lemon Eater Jones looked out of the screen, smiling as if he'd just invented the blues. Some cheerful news-voice off camera asked, "What kind of music does your band play?"

Lemon looked thoughtful. "I guess you could say we put the fun back into funkabilly. We're part blues, part country, part rock and all par-tay. Music you gotta dance to that means something."

"You're getting some airplay with the tracks your sound man made the night of the shooting. You had any offers on a recording contract yet?"

"We're not considering any until Melody Jo is out of the hospital. Wouldn't be fair to anyone."

Richard smiled, knowing that all the offers they'd received had been contingent on Jo's recovery. Lemon had a nice way with spinning the facts.

"What about the name of the band? What's the reason for the unusual name"

"We call ourselves I-NO-Y, because believe me, all of us do."

"And Melody Terry was your lead singer?"

Lemon shook his head. "We all sing, we all write music, we all play three or four different instruments. Even our sound man plays keyboards and sings bass when we need him. Melody Jo is just sweeter and braver than the rest of us."

"What do you think of Assemblyman Aronhaus standing by his wife after the shooting?"

Lemon's lips twisted. "He should have stood in front of her."

"Is Melody going to be back with the band if she recovers the use of her arm?"

"She'll be back. Nothing stops that lady. A few weeks of rehab are just a good time to write more songs."

"What if she can't play the keyboards or guitar again?"

"She can play tambourine and I bet she can learn to play a wicked left-handed horn. Besides, she can sing the feathers off a nightingale and the wind off the mountain." Lemon wiped his eyes. "She'll be back, we'll be back. I-NO-Y. We all do."

Richard turned the sound off again, wiping his own eyes. Jo's mom, Beverly Messenger stood at the door. "I brought you some coffee."

He nodded, staking the cup from her with a murmured thanks.

"Jill and Andie are in the waiting room. Arnie, Bugs and Kylie are in the van in the parking lot, jamming with those kids from the club. Your mom and sisters are waiting to hear from you in the coffee shop."

"Lemon's on TV," said Richard. He nodded his head toward the set.

"That's a tape, I saw it last night. Lemon went up to see Gogie in the rest home in San Fernando. Said he couldn't stand to be nearby while they cut on Jo, afraid he might have to hurt someone."

Richard smiled. Lemon's tenderess, Arnie's multi-channel focus, Kylie's practicality and Bugs's hidden emotions had become as familiar to him in the last few days as the quirks of his own family.

Strange dreams had troubled all of the band the last few days, dreams in which Richard had taken the bullet instead of Jo. In all of the dreams, Jo had rescued Richard from death in some fantastic fashion. Bugs had dreamed she'd bargained her right arm away to Cerberus to get entrance to hell in order to retrieve Richard's soul.

They all recognized that the dreams were true in some way they didn't understand.

Richard and Jo's mom walked along the hospital corridor together.

"She's going to be okay," said Beverly.

"I know."

"She loves you."

He shook his head.

"She does."

"I know," said Richard. "And I love her. I know why I do, but why does she love me?"

Mrs. Messenger laughed. "Love isn't about reasons, Richard. It just is. No one knows why -- or needs to. If you're wise enough to recognize it and bold enough to seize it -- it's yours."

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Comments

A wonderfully sweet tale

Hello Donna,

I waited till the end to write to you and I must admit I've been stealing my daily dose of Blue Moon over at Stardust because I coundn't stand to wait any longer than a day for the next fix. I am amazed and stand in awe of your talent at taking what I thought would be minor little story and holding me spellbound and breathless with anticipation for weeks. You've made me run through the whole gamut of emotions often leaving me laughing and crying in the same chapter. Saying thank you seems hardly sufficient to express my gratitude at the enjoyment that your story has brought me these past weeks, so I'll simply say its been my pleasure to share this ride with you and all your delightful characters. Until next time, may the sun shine brighter because of your presence in it.

Kindest regards, talonx

Thanks

I'm glad I had the opportunity to entertain you. ::smile:: And thanks to Bob and Erin for making it possible to do so.

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

It just is

kristina l s's picture

Yes indeedy, words to live by. And a big, ahhhhh, nice ending, had me worried for a bit there. Absolutley amazing, I am suitably awed by the sheer speed and style displayed in this and it never faltered. Congratulations on the stamina alone, not to mention the story telling. Plus I think there should be a special award for the most ludicrously brilliant, just slightly(ahem) outlandsh character that we all love....Mt Gmunro, sorry... Mr Gmunro. Not to downplay the others at all... but he did tend to take the spot, and the mustard, when on. Standing ovations all round m'dear.

Ok Donna, take a few days off, then back on the bike... oh, sorry that's the other one.

Kristina

Stamina is right

I'm exhausted but pleased. Thank you. ::smile::

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

Very Well Done Donna

Your efforts at creating a new style of serial paid off rather well! I enjoyed it thoroughly and appreciate the effort you poured into it. I can only promise you that should you ever do it again I will be right there reading it just like this wonderful story you created.

May Jo live Happily Ever After :)

Hugs

Sephrena Lynn Miller

Style?

Well, Erin did it first with Urban Renewal. ::grin:: Blame her.

It'll be a while before I try this again ::smile::

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

Brava!

Hi Donna,

I just want to say I've thoroughly enjoyed your novel. It's the best crafted piece of tg fiction I've read in months, if not years. I liked your technique of showing what one character was thinking then switching to show the other character's thoughts on the same event. Your dialog was flawless and had the perfect "sound" for each of your characters. I'll be watching for your next work with anticipation. Congrats on a tale very well told!

Jan

Thank you, Jan ::blush::

That's some high praise considering some other stories out there. ::smile::

Since I posted each segment quickly, sometimes within minutes after completing them, I don't think they're polished enough to really deserve being called "crafted". ::grin:: I'm working on that, though, ironing out some inconsistencies, filling in some gaps and working on descriptions.

I'm just pleased that the plotting came out even. On such a long story (long for me), I feared plotting myself into a dead end, or worse one of those Wile E. Coyote moments where a train runs over him. ::lol::

As for dialog, the characters wrote that themselves, for the most part. I can't think of even one case where I made a major change in what first appeared onscreen, as far as dialog was concerned. I sometimes changed a word for euphony, or added a phrase for clarity. In some of the longer interchanges with Jo and Richard, they talked faster than I can typo so I had to keep repeating their dialog to myself until I could get it typoed in. ::smile::

I did do a little untangling of Gmunro's longer speeches -- usually after I stopped laughing. I still don't know where his odd manner of speech came from; when I first described him physically, I had no idea he talked like that! ::grin::

Thanks, again, glad you enjoyed it.

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

Oh, Donna, Oh Donna, Oh Donna, Oh Donna

Rogers and Hart would be pleased.

I waited until the story was complete before reading, and I’m glad I did. You did so many wonderful things within it I’m wondering if the reader, who tuned in every day for the next exciting adventure of Dick and Jo, would catch them.

All the wonderful golden threads start out with Richard explaining away his lack of morality by telling Joel, “She wasn’t any good for you, Joel. I took a bullet for you.”

Wonderful characters, sound themes, creative plot, exquisite dialogue. . .all combine to make a terrific read.

As you’ve probably noticed, I’m a big POV maven. All through the read I was composing a note to you suggesting you go back and change the story to limited omniscient because the average reader isn’t God and can’t possibly relate to being God. (Or is that Being God??) After about ten chapters I realized the extent of the Greek myth and how perfect it was to write this as you had. Primary to the experience of this story was to feel the power of the gods.

Simply amazing. You make me feel much better about writing for BigCloset.

BAH bu-bu-bah, Bu-BAH-bu-bu-bah, Buh dang-a-dong dang, Buh ding-a-dong ding. Bluuuueee Moo-oon.

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Angela Rasch (Jill M I)

Warpin' and Woofin'

The key to having all those threads work out like they did is to include lots of details you may or may not use again. The line about taking a bullet, the name of the perfume, the lines about the rabbit, even the way Jo got the extra wish, those things weren't planned -- they just grew ut of the way I wrote the story and to some extent out of the comments people made while I posted. ::smile::

I had a couple of dozen collaborators. ::grin::

As for the POV problem, I noticed it right away, that I was breaking a "rule". I stopped and took a day to think it through and decided that I could not tell the story without getting into the head of several characters. There are characters I didn't get inside, the main one being Gmunro but also Bugs, Kylie, Tom and Andie. This again was deliberate. Arnie and Lemon had necessary scenes alone where I changed the POV to show their internal states, again, this was on purpose.

I freely switched between Jo and Richard as a dual POV but for the other violations, I usually had a specific effect in mind -- often to show that people reacted to Jo in a certain way and for certain narrow reasons. I couldn't always tell you exactly why I did what I did with POV but I always knew when I broke the egg. ::grin::

Chapters 13 and 14 have chaotic POV changes, some for plot purposes and some for emotional effect. Yes, I intended to have the effect of a mythic potency, I'm not sure it worked, though. ::grin::

Thanks for the comment, I'm glad you liked the story. ::smile::

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

I love it. :)

I love it. :)

Thanks

::smile::

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

Oh, my *sniff*

WOW. I don't often cry when reading a story, but this one...

I got so involved and attached with the characters, almost like being there with them, even down to the gunshot, and the kiss on the balcony... just, wow.

I need to thank Miss Erin for this recommendation.

Melanie E.

Blown away

I was Jonesing for another chapter of Some Enchanted Girlfriend so I started exploring what Donna had written before. Somehow I missed Blue Moon when it first appeared and I ended up inhaling all thirteen chapters in one sitting. I enjoyed every bit of it and I'm completely blown away by the powerful finale.

Did Erin write all the song lyrics for every chapter? I loved those too.

- Moni

Songs in Blue Moon

I wrote one of the songs but at the moment, I can't recall which one. I wrote the songs that are in the unfinished Green Sun, too.

Yes, Erin wrote the rest of the songs, and music for a theme song, too. She did some of the artwork on both of the stories and the cover art for the Blue Moon book. Because she likes me I guess. I've found out that she sometimes does stuff like this for new writers on the site. You'll have to ask her why.

I'm glad you liked the story, but Honi-Moni, if you only read 13 chapters, you missed one. ::grin:: Apparently, this one, number 14. ::giggle::

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

Edit: I remembered which song I wrote--"Too Drunk Boogie" which was Lemon Eater Jones's backstory in song. But even there, Erin wrote MUSIC for the dang thing. ::smile::

- Donna

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

Too Drunk

erin's picture

I don't consider my music for Too Drunk Boogie to be very good. The bass line is terrible but I do like the staggery G#-C-Bb-B-A-Db-D (1-2-3-and-4-5-and) riff in my latest version. :) It's in 4/4 time with 5/4 or 3/4 bars at the ends of the measures and the bridge switches to 6/8 with 5/8 and 7/8 bars. The bass line is AMajor-Dminor-Emin7 or Dminor-GMajor-A7b5 over and over.

Hugs,
Erin

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

= Give everyone the benefit of the doubt because certainty is a fragile thing that can be shattered by one overlooked fact.

Simply Brilliant!

Like Mona, I came in on Some Enchanted Girlfriend and wanted to see what else you had written, Adonna. I am blown away! As fun as S.E.G. has been so far, it is early in its story. THIS one...oh...I wish I had truly perceptive words to leave here, rather than simple, gushing praise.

This one moved me...deeply.

Thank you for your gift to us.

SuZie

SuZie

Thank you, SuZie

This was a heck of a ride. Not the first novel I ever wrote but maybe the only one I can point at with pride. It was a great adventure for me and I'm trying to recapture some of that feeling with S.E.G. -- while making it a very different story.

Oh, and I remembered which of the songs is the one I wrote, Too Drunk Boogie. It's the one about how Lemon ended up in prison.

Thanks for your comment, hon. :)

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through Doppler Press to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

Same Story, More or Less...

...as the other recent comments, except that it was the combination of S.E.G. and the recent reference to this title in a list of music stories that brought me here.

The second half of this story is one of the best things I've read on the site, with a real larger-than-life feel. (Insert Gmunro joke here.) That wasn't what I was expecting after six initial chapters that seemed to me to belong to another story, both in tone and storyline -- one that I was just about ready to give up on. I suppose I should read them again to see what I was overlooking there.

One minor point: when you're fitting everything together late in the story, the manager says that she and Harmon set up the whole band before they met her, presumably right after he got the posthumous note with her portfolio. But that was a visual package; at the interview, Harmon didn't seem to know what if any entertainment field she wanted to go into, let alone what musical instrument she played. That doesn't seem consistent: the supernaturals played with reality to set up a back story for Melody, but it seemed pretty clear that the timeline that we were witnessing along with Richard and Jo wasn't being tampered with after the fact, other than the climactic events of the shooting.

Eric

Yeah, Serendipity as a writing technique

Remember, I wrote this on the fly. What's on site is basically the first draft for the novel in the book. So I fixed some things, like making the first three or so chapters fit the rest of it better and inconsistencies like Harmon's story.

I'm writing S.E.G the same way and it may end up with a few "huh?" spots too but I'm trying to minimize them by better planning.

The music background in Blue Moon happened in part or maybe mostly because Joyce (Erin Halfelven) wrote all those songs and gave them to me because when I had hinted at various backstories for Jo, Joyce/Erin wanted me to go with the singer. ::grin::

Blue Moon happened and people who read the dailies on StarDust got to influence me as I wrote. Go re-read Blue Moon there to read the daily comments. Same thing is happening with S.E.G. to a degree, I joke about it but what people suggest for the storyline does have impact on what I write.

And I will most likely prepare an edited S.E.G. for publication by Doppler Press when I'm done with the story.

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through Doppler Press to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

Words fail me. You've

Words fail me. You've brought the magic out in this cleverly written, intricately plotted tale. There is magic in life, and love, when we dare to seek it. As you note, all too often, we are not wise enough, nor bold enough.

I loved the interplay between Jo and Richard. Their attraction and their wariness. Their thoughts, their words, the sheer energy that hangs in the air between them. Just those sections alone are penned with a skill that portrays the rare magic of a true love in a way that is utterly unmistakable, and achingly real.

Weaving the clever strategies of the celestials in and out of the story line adds an essential spice that lifts an already great concoction to the level of amazing.

Thank you for gifting us with this glimpse of the magic. Thank you, thank you, thank you. (thrice thanked is thrice blessed?)

- vessica b

Blue Moon 14.0 - Bold, Wise and True

Love the story and the way that Melody used her wishes. But then again, I love a good romance.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Blue Moon

Donna you could tear tears from a stone. I was a career cop. I have held children as they died. I have had to make the call to family to tell them to start grieving, I have buried friends who stood side by side with me to serve and protect, yet I can not remember another story that has so emotionally moved me. The ending especially. The purity of the love, the sacrifice was fair to stun me. I am shaken to my core. You have an amazing gift. I pray that you never tire of gifting us with your talents.

re: blue moon

wow this is the first i have read off of your stories. just want you to know ill be reading more of them. just the right amount of fanasty keep up the good work.
robert

001.JPG

I'm a terrible tease

Ain't I? :)

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through Doppler Press to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

Excellent tale!

janet_L.'s picture

At the beginning, I sort of wondered if this would turn into one of those obnoxious involuntary transformation stories where the transformee was humiliated by the facts of life as a female.

Then I wondered if it wasn't one where the protagonist was forced into a life of degradation and prostitution on account of her lack of identification documents.

Thankfully, Donna let Melody Jo avoid those far-too-often used fates and came up with and excellent love story. She also neatly tied up those misleading themes from early in the story.

Note above:

Same again. :)

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through Doppler Press to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

A Devil of a Good Tale

I have always loved stories where the devil gets her comeuppance, but the various Clarences added a nice touch. I loved Gmunroe and laughed my fool head off! My wife now has another reason to think I'm crazy because I simply couldn't come up with an easy way to explain the maniacal laughter as I read it.

Should have heard my cackles

While I was writing this. LOL.

-- Donna Lamb, Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through Doppler Press to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

-- Donna Lamb, ex-Flack

Some of my books and stories are sold through DopplerPress to help support BigCloset. -- Donna

An awesome tale

I hereby declare that I loved this story! Lol :D

You forgot the tissue alert tag btw. This story got me sniffeling.

I'm so glad that the stupid devil got her comeuppance. After a bit slow middle part this story definitly got its furious ending.

Thank you so much for writing this wonderful story.
*hugs*
Beyogi

I am so very happy

that we have decided to go through the author's list, this was a great find

Goddess Bless you

Love Desiree

So Good!

It's taken me some time, but I finally re-read this. I think it's actually better this time since I don't have to wait for each chapter to come out. Now, I have to take care of business and then hunt up this story on Amazon to leave a comment there too. This is too good to let some bozo's keep others from reading it because they gave prejudiced reviews.
Thanks so much for leaving this up for your fans!
hugs
Grover

beautiful story

just read the whole thing, and loved it.

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