Like Mother, Like Daughter
When she was a young woman, Roxie Woodburn dreamt of a career as a singer. At eighteen, she had the good fortune to meet and fall in love with Vaughn Edmonds, a gifted musician who made her the lead singer in his band. Theirs was a whirlwind courtship that led to marriage, followed a year later by the birth of a daughter. Not long after the couple became parents, their happiness was compounded when the band was offered a record deal with a major label. Vaughn and his wife truly believed they were blessed and that all their dreams were about to come true.
Tragically, fate brought an abrupt end to those dreams when Vaughn and three members of his band were killed in a plane crash en route to a concert in Ohio. Her husband's death left a gaping void in Roxie's life, but thankfully her child was able to fill much of it. Thus, despite the heartbreak she felt over the loss of her husband, life went on.
Two decades later, as Roxie watched her daughter on the stage of a college auditorium, her heart swelled with maternal pride. Possessing beauty, talent, intelligence and a warm, loving personality, Monique Edmonds was everything a mother could want in a daughter.
On stage, Monique finished the last song in her set, "Johnny Angel," an oldies hit originally recorded in 1962 by actress Shelley Fabares. Her act having come to an end, the twenty-one-year-old singer took a bow in response to the audience's enthusiastic applause. Then she, along with the two young women who sang backup in her trio, the Poodle Girls, walked off behind the curtain.
Roxie met her daughter in the tiny dressing room the three students shared.
"You were great—as usual," she complimented as she hugged her only child.
Monique shrugged and modestly said, "I think I was a little off tempo on 'Leader of the Pack.'"
"Nonsense! You sang like an angel!"
"Thanks, Mom, but you're not exactly an impartial observer."
"Your mother is right, though. You put on a hell of a show out there tonight."
Monique, Roxie and the two backup singers turned at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice. All four women were surprised to see, standing in the dressing room doorway, an extremely handsome man with dazzling blue eyes and a captivating smile.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation," the stranger apologized. "I was on my way to speak to you, and I couldn't help overhearing what you were saying."
"That's okay," Monique laughingly assured him. "We're not discussing state secrets here. Come on in."
The young man respectfully introduced himself to Roxie, the eldest person in the group.
"My name is Mickey Doyle."
"What did you want to speak to my daughter about?" the mother inquired after shaking the young man's hand.
"I have a business proposition for her, Mrs. Edmonds."
"What kind of business?" Roxie pressed.
"Mom!" Monique moaned like a disgruntled teenager. "Why don't you go on ahead to the hotel room? I'll meet you there after I've had a chance to change and speak to Mr. Doyle."
Roxie raised her eyebrow but kept her objections to herself. Monique was old enough to make her own decisions. As a concerned mother, she only hoped they would be the right ones.
* * *
Roxie looked at her watch again and anxiously drummed her fingers on the writing desk in her hotel room. She had left the auditorium three hours earlier, and her daughter had not yet returned.
"Here we are in an unfamiliar city, and some stranger whisks my child away," she moaned. "Why didn't I insist on staying with her?"
The sound of the door opening brought with it a flood of relief.
"Thank God you're all right!" Roxie exclaimed at the sight of Monique. "Where were you all this time?"
"I went to see Mickey Doyle's band play."
"Oh, he's a musician?"
"Yes, and his band is fantastic! Right now he's looking for a female singer. That's why he wanted to talk to me."
"I hope you sent him packing."
"No, I didn't. On the contrary, I'm going to consider his offer."
"What?"
Roxie was flabbergasted.
"But what about the Poodle Girls?"
"It's been fun being in a Fifties-themed group, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life singing 'He's a Rebel' and dressing like I've got the lead role in a high school production of Grease."
"Don't knock it. You and your two friends have developed quite a following. The work has been steady, and with the money you've earned, you've been able to afford your tuition. After you graduate, you won't be bogged down with student loans."
Monique shook her head.
"You don't get it, Mom. If all I wanted was a steady job, I'd have become a secretary and gone the nine-to-five route. But I want to be a real entertainer. I want to cut a record someday. No one is going to offer the Poodle Girls—a cover band—a recording contract."
How was a mother to counsel her daughter about a career? Twenty-one years earlier, Roxie, as the lead singer in her husband's band, had been in a similar situation. She had to make a choice between touring with her husband and remaining at home with her infant daughter. Roxie chose motherhood over music and put her child above her career.
It's true that she never regretted her decision. She walked away from her dreams of a singing career and never looked back. But what about Monique? Would she be happy if she were to stop singing? Roxie sincerely doubted it.
* * *
When Roxie heard Monique fronting Mickey's band, she grudgingly admitted that her daughter had made the right decision. Mickey was clearly a talented musician and songwriter, and with Monique's masterful vocals, his band was sure to reach heights the Poodle Girls could only dream of.
Roxie supposed she ought to be overjoyed for her daughter, but she remained reticent. Although she could not put her finger on it, there was something about Mickey Doyle that disturbed her.
"Just don't go getting personally involved with him," she cautioned her daughter on more than one occasion. "You should never mix business with romance."
"Why not?" Monique fired back. "You did."
"That was different. Despite being a musician, your father was never into the whole drug, sex and rock 'n' roll scene."
Monique rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the sociology textbook she was reading. After all, she was used to her mother being overprotective. She understood that having lost her husband, Roxie clung to her daughter all the more. Yet Monique could not understand what her mother had against Mickey. He was a handsome, personable, well-mannered, talented young man with his eye on the future, one that the young singer would certainly consider a catch in the marriage market, had she been interested in shopping for a husband.
Maybe someday I'll fall in love and marry, she thought, but not just yet.
Her singing career, for now at least, would come first.
* * *
Roxie awoke with a start, her heart pounding in her chest like a jackhammer. She looked around the room and felt momentarily disoriented. The familiar setting of her own bedroom was visible behind the shadows. She reached over to the night table and turned on the lamp.
"It was only a dream," she told herself, sighing with relief.
But she could not shake the sense of foreboding the nightmare had left in its wake.
Roxie looked at her alarm clock on the nightstand. It was only 3:00 a.m., so she turned out the light and laid her head on the pillow. Sleep eluded her, however. The dream, which had been about her late husband, had reawakened all the painful memories of his death and the longing she still felt for him. Hundreds of images went through her mind, accompanied by a melody Roxie would never forget.
"This is our song," Vaughn had told her on their wedding night. "I wrote this for you as a wedding present. I hope you like it."
The ballad, which had yet to be given a name, had a melody as hauntingly beautiful as "Pachelbel's Canon" and lyrics so tender and romantic that they brought tears to Roxie's eyes. When the song came to an end, Vaughn put his guitar aside, and Roxie melted into his arms.
"When we get a record deal," she whispered, "that should be our first single. I bet it will be as big a hit as Elvis's 'Love Me Tender' and the Beatles' 'Yesterday.'"
Sadly, Roxie's prediction never came true. In less than three years from their wedding day, Vaughn and his band were dead, without having recorded the song on what was supposed to be their debut album.
It was nearly dawn before that haunting, still unnamed melody stopped playing in Roxie's head, and she was able to finally drift off into a quiet, peaceful slumber.
* * *
Christmas had always been a time Monique and Roxie spent together. The two of them would exchange gifts, enjoy a home-cooked meal and then spend the rest of the day watching holiday movies. So when Roxie opened the door early Christmas morning and found Mickey Doyle standing on the front step, her holiday cheer faded.
"Merry Christmas, Mrs. Edmonds," the young man cried.
"Thank you. The same to you," she answered and reluctantly stepped aside so he could enter.
"Let me take your coat," she offered. "I assume you're staying for dinner?"
"Didn't Monique tell you? We've got a gig in Boston later today."
It was only the first of several surprise revelations that ruined Roxie's Christmas. The second one was delivered when Monique came downstairs and sat down to a late breakfast.
"I'm not going back to school in January," the young woman told her mother.
"You can't be serious! You've got only one semester left, and you'll get your degree," Roxie reminded her daughter.
"Who cares about a degree in English? Mickey and I are going to be recording artists."
"Have you been offered a record contract?" her mother asked with excitement.
"No, but we will. I just know it."
Then came the third and most devastating announcement.
"Mickey and I are moving to LA. We'll have a much better chance of being discovered out on the West Coast."
Roxie was speechless. Her child was leaving home.
"I'm a big girl, Mom. It's time for me to leave the nest."
Mickey looked at his watch and suggested, "We better get going if we want to make the first set on time."
Monique kissed her mother goodbye, wished her a Merry Christmas and then ran off with Mickey Doyle, leaving Roxie to spend the holiday alone.
* * *
By the end of the first week of January, Roxie put aside her New Year's resolution not to interfere in her child's life. While she was willing to compromise on the matter of her daughter's abandoning her pursuit of an education, she would fight tooth and nail to change Monique's mind about moving west.
"You can't leave West Newbury," she reasoned. "This is your home. You'll never be happy in California."
Monique ran her hands through her short, curly, blond hair in frustration. She had no desire to hurt her mother, but she was not about to let anyone tell her how to live her life.
"Massachusetts, California—what difference does it make? I'm pursuing my dream."
"Sometimes you sound just like your father!"
"What's wrong with that? If he hadn't died, he might have been a successful rock star."
"There are more important things in life than a career: home, family, friends."
"That was your choice," Monique said, "and I respect you for it. But I'm not you. If I had been in your place twenty-one years ago, I'd have gone on tour with my husband and his band."
Roxie hung her head, and tears slid down her cheeks. Despite the close relationship she and Monique had always shared, there was no question that the girl was her father's daughter. She inherited his ambition, his passion for music and his fierce desire to succeed.
And me? the anguished mother wondered. Didn't she inherit anything from me?
* * *
The week before Monique was to board the plane for California, Mickey paid a visit to Roxie's house to talk to the mother in private.
"I know you want your daughter to stay here and get her degree," he began.
"I want what's best for her."
"So do I," he admitted. "I want the band to be a success for her as much as for me."
"That's nice of you," Roxie noted with thinly veiled sarcasm.
"I'll take care of her out there. I promise. I won't let anything happen to her."
Roxie's eyes betrayed the hostility she felt toward the young musician.
"She's my child. I've always looked after her. I don't need any help from you, thank you."
He was not offended by her antagonism.
"Monique and I share a dream," he said. "Together we stand a good chance of making it come true."
Mickey sounds so much like Vaughn when he speaks of his dreams, Roxie thought.
Strange, how she and her daughter were both attracted to the same type of goal-driven man. But unlike Monique, Roxie had not been swept up in the madness herself. Despite being in love with her husband, she managed to keep her feet firmly on the ground and her head out of the clouds.
"I don't want my daughter running off clear across the country in pursuit of some dream."
"Why not?" Mickey asked. "Are you afraid she'll fail? Or are you afraid she'll succeed when you didn't?"
"How dare you!" Roxie cried, reaching out her hand and slapping him across the face.
Mickey realized it was useless to argue any further. Roxie's mind was made up. She would never accept her daughter's decision.
* * *
Monique and Mickey's final performance before the move west was held at a popular pub in nearby Newburyport. Roxie sat alone at a table waiting for the lights to go down and the band to come on.
"I won't let my little girl go without a fight," she vowed. "If I have to get down on my knees and beg her to stay, I will."
She ordered a glass of wine from the barmaid, and just as the drink arrived, the houselights were dimmed. When Monique, Mickey and the rest of the band stepped on stage, Roxie had to admit that her daughter looked like a star in her red sequin dress. Still, the mother missed the adorable Fifties outfit she had worn as one of the Poodle Girls.
Roxie nursed her glass of wine through three songs and then ordered a second, which she was just finishing when the band was to perform its last song.
Mickey, who had been playing the guitar behind Monique, stepped up to the mike in center stage.
"I have a little surprise for my lead singer," he announced. "I wrote this just for you, Monique. But if and when we ever get a recording contract, this will be our first single."
Mickey then began to sing. Roxie's heart lurched, and her knees felt weak. Was her reaction from fear or excitement, or a combination of both? How could Mickey have known that song? She was the only living person who knew of its existence. Vaughn had written it for her, and he died before having the opportunity to publicly perform it or record it.
When the song came to an end, Mickey smiled at Monique. Roxie dropped her wine glass, and it shattered on the floor. But the sound was drowned out by the applause from the audience.
That smile. That voice. That song. The stunned widow could not deny the obvious. Bizarre and improbable as the truth was, Mickey Doyle was Vaughn Edmonds reincarnated.
* * *
"Mom?"
Monique looked up in surprise when her mother entered the dressing room. She and Mickey exchanged a guarded look as they braced themselves for yet another round of objections to their plans.
"I came to wish both of you the best of luck in California," Roxie said, tears glistening in her eyes.
"You're not going to try one last time to change my mind?" Monique asked with surprise.
"You have a dream, just like your father. I realize you have to follow it just as he did."
As she spoke, Roxie kept her eyes firmly on her daughter, afraid she would betray her feelings if she looked at Mickey.
"Thank you for your understanding and support," Monique cried, throwing herself in her mother's arms. "And don't worry about me. I'll be fine. And I'll come back home to New England every chance I get. I promise."
"Why don't we all go out for a late dinner and celebrate?" Mickey suggested. "My treat."
"That's a great idea!" Monique exclaimed. "I haven't eaten anything all day. Just let me jump into the shower first."
Roxie found herself alone in the dressing room with a man who, in a previous incarnation, had been her husband, and in this one might very well fall in love with his own daughter from that previous life. She briefly wondered if there were any afterlife taboos governing such a situation, but she doubted it. Perhaps fate threw the same souls together time and time again, occasionally rearranging the roles.
"I'm glad you're not upset with Monique anymore," Mickey said, holding out the olive branch.
Roxie accepted it graciously.
"My only concern has always been for my daughter's happiness. The last thing I want to do is stand in the way of her dreams."
"If you don't mind my asking, what changed your mind?"
Roxie finally turned toward him and looked up into a face that was both strange and familiar. It was not that of Vaughn Edmonds, and yet it was. Her heart ached, and she longed to kiss him and feel the strength of his arms around her. But their love was not meant to be—not now, anyway. Maybe in another time, another life ....
"It was your song," Roxie confessed, putting her foolish, romantic notions aside. "It made me realize that some dreams never die."
Like father, like son? [Salem is either dreaming or getting steroids from BALCO.]
