Capture the Rainbow by Iris Johansen

shadowy; darkness showed through the gap in the curtain at the windows. The only light was a diffused glow emanating from the other room. That wasn’t the only thing drifting into the room, though, she realized hazily. There was the low throb of a guitar and the haunting softness of a woman’s voice. Billie’s voice, she thought, as she got off the bed and headed toward the beaded curtain.

    There is an island where only the south winds blow.
    There is a river they say has no end.
    There is a mountain whose peak has known no snow.
    And there is a lover who only calls my name.
    He only calls my name.

    Billie was sitting cross-legged on an enormous cushion on the floor wearing a faded nightshirt with
Kiss me, I’m Irish
emblazoned in shamrock-green across the front. She looked up from her guitar and cast a quick warm smile at Kendra. “Hi, did I wake you?”
    Kendra shook her head. “I only meant to nap for a while anyway. That’s a very pretty folk song you were singing. I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”
    “That’s not surprising since I just made it up an hour ago.” Billie’s fingers moved caressingly over the strings. “I like to play around with composing every now and then. It’s something to do when you’re alone.” She shrugged. “And when you’re on the road, you find yourself alone more often than not.”
    “And you’re on the road a lot?”
    “I get restless,” Billie said simply. She looked down at her guitar, her violet eyes far away. “You know, sometimes I feel there’s something special out there waiting for me just around the corner or over the horizon. But when I get there, whatever it was has already faded away. I can catch a glimpse of it in the distance, but I can never quite touch it.” She struck a soft chord. “So I try another road.”
    “Well, your roads certainly have some interesting twists and turns,” Kendra said lightly. “Did you get Yusef settled?”
    “If you could call it that. He’s lying outside on our doorstep in a sleeping bag. Dave offered to put a cot in the wardrobe tent, but he wouldn’t have it. He seems to think I’ll be thrown into some dire peril if he’s not right on top of me. I tried to get Joel to put a cot in here, but he turned me down flat. He said there was no way he was going to let a bordello bouncer become our roommate. Yusef isn’t the only one who’s overprotective around here.”
    “Yet you seem to be able to manage Joel very well from what I’ve seen,” Kendra observed. “Have you known each other long?”
    “About three months,” Billie answered. “And no one ‘manages’ Joel Damon. The only reason he sometimes listens to me is because we’re friends. We liked each other from the minute he picked me up on the highway one day. Sometimes it happens that way.”
    “He picked you up?”
    “Well, not exactly the way that sounds,” Billie said with a grin. She put her scratched and battered guitar aside. “Drag up a cushion and I’ll tell you all about it.” She suddenly snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot, you must be starved. I brought you a thermos of soup and a packet of crackers from the commissary tent at dinner time. They’re on the brass table over there. I really should have awakened you but you were sleeping so deeply, I thought probably you needed rest more than food.”
    “I did.” Kendra found the thermos, plastic spoon, and crackers and returned to where Billie was sitting. She nudged a scarlet cushion a bit closer with her toe and sank down across from her. “Thanks, Billie. I am a little hungry.” She unscrewed the top of the thermos. “Now, tell me how Joel picked you up.”
    “My motorcycle broke down on a highway in Oregon and I was thumbing a ride to the nearest gas station when this sinfully gorgeous Mercedes slinked to a stop. Joel proceeded to read me the riot act on the dangers of hitchhiking and then he gave me the lift and ended up by offering me a job in
Venture.
” She