Chapter 1-Tree House

         “Hey, Mom, can I talk to you for a second?” sixteen-year-old Gayle Morrison asked her mother in the kitchen of their two thousand five hundred square-foot house. She casually slipped onto the barstool as her mother simmered taco meat on the stove.
         “Sure thing, honey. Hold on a minute while I drain this meat.” Cheryl Morrison, a physically fit lady in her forties, could only concentrate on one thing at a time. Although no one admitted it to her, she never could master the ability of most women to multitask. Quickly yet carefully, she carried the meat from the stove to the sink. “Whew!” she wiped her forehead in an exaggerated motion. “All right, what is it?”
         “Well, I’ve been thinking.” Gayle paused, letting her mother dry her hands on a plaid dish towel. “You know that I love singing, right?” Cheryl shook her head cautiously. Who could tell where this would be going. “And you know how limited the voice and dance classes are around here, right, for choreography reasons?” Again, Cheryl nodded, a little more hesitantly. Strangely encouraged by her mother’s reaction, Gayle continued with a little more confidence. “Mrs. West says that a new, more experienced voice teacher is moving just north of here, about an hour away. She says that if I could take her classes, I could be a great singer! And a dance teacher is moving a couple of streets. She could teach me how to dance better!” When her mother didn’t say anything, she added, “Isn’t that just great?!” She squealed as only a high-energy, innocent teenager can. “I can see it now – Gayle Morrison: On Broadway!”
         Instead of chuckling like Gayle expected her to, Cheryl became very quiet and pensive. Although she had encourage Gayle to pursue her dream of dancing in the past, she had always hoped that someday, someday soon, she would give it up and move on. “Well, Abigayle, um, that’s – um – great news, I guess, if you were considering singing as a career. However, I know that you sing and dance for fun, and your father and I agree that those are fun and can be a great exercise, but singing isn’t the career to pursue. And we’re so glad you aren’t.”
         Gayle spat out, “Hello, Mom! I am pursuing it as a career. Mrs. West says that I have the talent to go somewhere with it, especially with Mrs. Black and Mrs. Kenneth’s help. She has faith in me, I have faith in me, but you don’t! I’m not my sister Cynthia!”
         “Oh, honey, I know you’re not Cynthia, and I don’t want you to be. I love you just the way you are. But think about it in the long run. You won’t be able to do that forever. Then you’ll be out of a job. What will you do?” She nodded her head as she trotted back to the stove with her meat. “See, I really do know what’s best for you?”
         Gayle jerked the chair around as she barged up from her chair. “All I see is that you don’t know anything! A good singer can always find a job as a instructor or just as a singer, some things I’ve always wanted to do! You are so impossible!” Stomping outside, she slammed the door behind her.

         The fall air was crisp, and the leaves from the overhead trees fell like rain, covering the brown grass with an array of colors. Gayle scampered through the back yard and into the small wood. Finding her old tree house, she plumped down on her favorite thinking place – an old tree stump. Her father had cut down a tree for it, but instead of grinding the stump, he left it there for his daughter. She and the next-door-neighbor’s son Ted used to meet there for secret conspiracy assemblies. With her training and his sports, neither one had been able to visit the beloved tree house much lately.
         A gushing wind blew her hair around her face. Memories overcoming her, her face twisted into a smile.

         “Sailing, sailing, into the sea we’ll go!” seven-year-old Gayle sang as the wind blew against her face. Hanging over the rail of the tree house, she pretended to scout the ocean.
         “Look out for a storm, it might come up, and then the wind will blow!” eight-year-old Ted warned as he “pulled” the ship’s sails down.
         “Oh, look over there, Captain Anderson! Land! Maybe we can anchor there for safety!”
         “Good idea, matey! Prepare to land!”
         “Aye, aye, sir!” She saluted. After they “reached land,” they quickly abandoned ship. “Do you think there are any unruly natives around here?” Gayle acted as if she was scared.
         “Hmm, there’s one over there!” She mocked a scream. Hurrying, she ran to another tree. “You think I’m an ignorant savage. And you’ve been so many places; I guessed it must be so, but still I cannot see, if the savage one is me, how can there be so much that you don’t know? You don’t know…”
         Ted interrupted the song. “Why does everything we do have to involve singing?” he complained.
         Gayle held her head up high. “Because I love to sing, that’s why. And you don’t mind it either, Ted Anderson.”
         He rolled his green eyes. “Why am I playing this with a girl anyway? I should be playing baseball.”
         “Because you like me, and I’m your best friend. So there! Besides, I like you too.”

         Pushing her hair behind her ears, she smiled sadly. That’s what they ended up doing – she sang, and he played. Played baseball, not make believe anymore. A couple of weeks ago, her mother had remarked how she and Ted didn’t spend much time together anymore. Well, it wasn’t her fault. It was Ted’s.
         Thinking of her mother, her anger began to rise again. How selfish of her mom! Cheryl was probably just thinking about the money, not thinking about her daughter’s dreams. Cynthia, well, they didn’t have to spend any money on Cynthia. Just $14,000 a year for private school tuition. All she was asking was an extra thirty dollars a month. How hard was that?
         While she was caught up in her thoughts, suddenly, two hands covered her eyes. “Who is it?” she asked, laughing. The hands released her, and she turned around to find Ted’s boyish green eyes twinkling. A year old than Gayle, he didn’t look older than fifteen.
         “A dream is a wiiiiish your heart maaaakes when you’re faaast asleeeeep. In dreams, you will looooooose your heart ache. Whatever you wish foooor, you keeeeep,” he sang flamboyantly, holding the notes ridiculously long.
         “What in the world are you doing?” she asked, trying to appear mad and to keep her laughter – and surprise – inside.
         He grabbed her hands and started dancing. “I’ve just rescued you from your evil stepmother! Sing!”
         “Oh, I get it. You talked to my mom.” She laughed and sat back on the stump. “Remember when we were kids, and we’d come here and play just like you did now? My mom was so supportive of me then. Always encouraging me to sing, dance, perform, pursue my dream. What happened? Now she just wants me to be Cindy, perfectly perfect and genuisly smart. Do you ever feel the same way, Teddy?” She looked up at him with her deep brown eyes shimmering with new, unshed tears.
         He held her gaze for a second; then he looked away. “Man, Gayle, we all feel like that. Don’t hold it against her. I mean, when I was little, all my dad wanted me to do was play baseball and play some more. Now that I’m older, that’s all I want to do, but my parents won’t hear of it. ‘You need to focus more on your studies; what are you going to do out of school?’” He grinned and found her eyes once again. “You know what I want to do out of school?” She shook her head. “I want to own a little café, and I want you to sing in it.”
         Throwing her brunette hair back, she laughed. “You’re not serious, are you? You hate to cook, and you would die before you let anyone know that you thought I could sing. Besides, we probably couldn’t get my contract worked out.” Her glance averted from Ted to the horizon. “You know what I want to do, Ted?” He shook his head slowly, though already knowing the answer. “I want to go there, out into the world, as a promising singer and dancer.” Hesitantly, she brought her gaze back to meet his. “I don’t want to stay here in this little-ole-town that has nothing going for it. I want to go to New York or someplace else, anywhere but here. To know if I myself could make it with just my talent. Do you understand at all?”
         He nodded his head tentatively. “I understand more than you think, Abigayle Morrison. I’d really like to be a professional baseball player, but do you think that will ever happen? No, I don’t either. So the next best thing I think is to settle down with a happy little family and provide for them the best I can. I’ll put that before my dreams. Do you understand at all?”
         She shrugged her shoulders. “Why can’t things be like they used to be? Simple, innocent, straightforward. You and I, friends forever, right?” As he nodded his head, she smiled ruefully. Yeah, friends forever.