Long Way Gone by Charles Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

almost stopped dancing when he turned and the back of his gown flashed open. She covered her mouth with one hand and pointed with the other. “Oh my!”
    I shook my head. “Sometimes he gets the robe turned around.”
    She laughed and covered her eyes. “Please no.”
    All this time Mary lay in bed, motionless save her face and neck, given that she was singing at the top of her voice. Big-Big segued into “Come Thou Fount,” and I began picking my way through the intro. Doing so brought Ms. Fox to her feet, where she began clapping, staring at the ceiling, and singing harmony alongside Daley. When we reached the fourth verse, Big-Big softened his touch and backed off, making room for Ms. Fox to sing her solo. “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it . . .”
    Upon hearing the sound of a second female voice—Daley singing harmony—the emboldened Ms. Fox carried us through the final verse. The Riverview Center Chorus was in full swing and almost in tune.
    After he’d duly recognized her invaluable contribution and Ms. Fox had sat down to the applause of the growing group of nursing staff and residents, Big-Big sang us through “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.” Then he glanced over his shoulder at Mary, who sat beaming, waiting on a solo of her own. Big-Big closed out a few chords and then fell quiet, placing his hands in his lap and allowing me to fill in the space with the intro to Mary’s solo.
    When I’d finished flat-picking the intro, I began quietly strumming, waiting for Mary’s entrance. She timed it perfectly, and her quivering voice managed, “When I survey the wondrous cross, on which the Prince of Glory died . . .” Spontaneous applause brought an even wider smile to Mary’s countenance. Daley moved around behind her bed and sang quietly next to her. Mary punched the electronic button on her bed, raising her head and shoulders up past forty-five degrees, and reached for Daley’s hand, and the two new best friends finished the song.
    Big-Big thanked everyone for coming, made an announcement about the ice cream social tomorrow night, reminded everyone not to feed the deer, and then, when the room fell quiet, began the introduction to the final song. He turned to Daley and said, “Miss Cross, I wonder if you might sit here next to me and sing this one to us?”
    She wound her way through the beds and sat on the bench, her back to his left shoulder. She opened her mouth and sang with a purity and resonance I’d not heard in a long, long time.
    “O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder . . .” When she reached the fourth verse, “When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation . . . ,” many of the staff were filming with their phones. Everyone else had stopped singing, and Big-Big’s eyes were closed. “How great thou art . . . how great thou art.” Her last note rang off the tongue-and-groove ceiling, and you could have heard a pin drop. Then Mr. Barnes started clapping and the entire room joined in.
    I don’t know the song’s effect on everyone else, but I know that when Daley stood and kissed Big-Big on the cheek, her shoulders had rounded, the crow’s-feet had washed out of the corners of her eyes, and whatever knee-jerk walls she’d carried in here had crumbled and lay in pieces at our feet.
    Big-Big stood, bowed to Daley, and said, “Miss Cross, please come back.” He pointed at me. “He sounds better with you here.”
    We pushed Mary down the hall and into her room. Shelly offered to take some pictures of her with Daley, promising to frame them and hang them on the already busy walls. Daley, seizing the moment, climbed onto the bed with Mary, and the two posed like long-lost sisters. Mary was radiant.
    As we were walking out, Mary called behind us, “Daley?”
    Daley turned.
    Mary reached across her bedside table and lifted a CD cover. “Would you sign this?”
    The CD was Daley’s second album. Now twenty years old, it was the album we’d cut in Nashville just before the fire. Daley