The Spark

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On a busy stretch of Route 46, cars rushed past a woman standing on the shoulder, waving hard at every vehicle that approached.

No one stopped.

"When did Tennesseans get this cold?" Faith Hill shook her head and looked back at the young woman lying on the ground with her head under the car.

"I can't see anything," Taylor's voice came from beneath the chassis.

"Then leave it alone. This is exactly the sort of thing men are supposed to do."

"Give me a flashlight and I can get this thing moving. I learned to fix tractors on the farm when I was little. This isn't hard."

"And I don't want you showing up at Danielle's covered in grease. That woman has standards. If you annoy her, no one will arrange your songs."

Eighteen-year-old Taylor Swift finally crawled out from beneath the car and started brushing dust from her knees.

She wore a thick camel-colored coat. Her hair was too full and too curly, forming a messy halo around her face. Her bangs were heavy, and faint freckles dotted the sides of her nose. She clearly had not yet learned how to dress herself for a camera. There was still a farm-girl awkwardness to her, pure Pennsylvania country before polish.

Three years earlier, her parents had moved with her to Nashville, the capital of country music. She studied, wrote, and sent demos to every label that would listen. After an unpleasant split with RCA, she had become the only artist signed to a new label called Big Machine.

The company had spent real money hiring Faith Hill, one of country music's biggest stars, as her vocal coach.

Faith teased the young woman constantly, but in truth she valued this student. She had used Danielle's birthday party as an excuse to ask an old friend to help arrange Taylor's album.

"Look at your face," Faith said. "You look like a coal miner. There are wipes in the car. Go clean up."

She was still speaking when she saw a Dodge Ram pickup make a turn in the distance and stop a few yards away. The door opened, and Danielle's son stepped out.

"Oh, my dear Jules. You got even handsomer since the last time I saw you." Faith sighed, opening her arms.

She had watched Julian grow up. She pulled him into a big hug and kissed the air beside his cheek.

Faith was loud, direct, and impossible to ignore. She had been one of the biggest crossover stars of the late 1990s and early 2000s, and the 2006 leg of her Soul2Soul II tour with Tim McGraw had only reinforced her status.

Julian had played her songs on repeat many times in another life.

There was one more private detail: in the memories Julian inherited, Aunt Faith at her peak had been his first impossible adult crush.

"Taylor, come out and meet Danielle's son."

"Coming."

Taylor Swift climbed out of the car and greeted Julian with a warm hug and an air kiss.

When Julian saw that young, unmistakable face come close, he caught a rush of unpolished sweetness.

'Well. If it isn't the future queen of breakup songs.'

"I'm Taylor Swift," she said. "I'm from Pennsylvania."

By the future Julian remembered, Taylor had become one of the most commercially dominant artists in the world, with shelves of awards, record-breaking sales, and a career that repeatedly redrew the limits of country-pop stardom.

What was she doing here?

Julian kept his surprise hidden.

"I know," he said. "I've heard your first album. I thought it was excellent."

According to the timeline he remembered, her debut album should already have come out last year.

"Uh..." Taylor did not seem to know how to respond.

"Jules," Faith said, "the album isn't finished yet."

"Is that right? Then I must have mistaken you for someone else."

History had shifted. Julian could only explain it as the nature of a parallel world. Some details were bound to change.

"Speaking of Pennsylvania," he said, smoothly changing the subject, "I studied finance at the University of Pennsylvania. Beautiful place. I'd like to go back and visit one day."

Taylor's eyes immediately filled with longing.

"UPenn finance? That's Wharton, right? I heard it's almost impossible to get in."

"It wasn't easy," Julian said, slightly embarrassed.

Taylor's awe was sincere enough to be charming.

"You two can talk later," Faith said, wrapping her coat tighter around herself and bouncing in the cold. "Right now, I want a room with a fire and a cup of hot chocolate."

"Miss Faith, I told you to dress warmer. Look at me. I'm not cold at all."

"Better than being mistaken for a brown bear."

While teacher and student bickered, Julian checked the car. The result was not promising.

"The fuel tank is punctured. It leaked dry. We're not towing this ourselves."

Julian called a tow truck. Once the car was loaded, Faith climbed into his pickup and turned the heat all the way up. Taylor squeezed into the back seat behind her.

The ride back became much livelier.

"You know," Faith said, turning to look at her student in the back seat, "Julian built a finance company from scratch. Thousands of employees. A real boss. Much better than those foolish boys chasing you around. This is the kind of man worth trusting."

Taylor was curled awkwardly in the cramped back seat. At five foot eleven, she had nowhere to put her legs.

"If I hadn't stopped you, you really might have let some idiot carry you off. Good thing I noticed in time."

"Miss Faith, please stop." Taylor's face reddened with embarrassment.

In Julian's old timeline, the internet would eventually turn her dating life into a sport, cataloging every rumored relationship and treating every song like courtroom evidence. But the young woman sitting behind him now was still raw, shy, and unsure of herself. She lacked polish, confidence, and the controlled glamour she would later wield like a weapon.

Julian asked for more information.

"Has Taylor signed with a label?"

Before Taylor could answer, Faith complained from the passenger seat.

"She signed with a new company last year. The album is more than halfway done, but several songs still need arranging, and then there's mixing and mastering. That's why I wanted your mother to help. Do you know how many years it's been since I had to ask anyone this humbly?"

"With your relationship, Mom won't refuse."

"Not necessarily. Her old employer was RCA, and she still has contract issues with them. Whether she can help is another matter. If I weren't close to Taylor's current label boss, I wouldn't have agreed to produce the album."

An album producer was much like a film director: the core creative force.

Taylor stayed quiet in the back seat, letting Faith answer for her.

Her first album was still in preparation. Her teacher and producer was one of his mother's closest friends. Faith had little confidence in the tiny startup label, and the singer trusted Faith completely.

No matter how Julian looked at it, the situation felt like an opportunity delivered straight into his hands.

When the universe put a future superstar in the back seat of his truck, a man did not politely look away.

Decision made, Julian tested the waters.

"I'm considering investing in the record business. Faith, do you have any recommendations?"

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