Amazing Love (16 page)

“Luke needed to get some things off his chest. His
feelings for you were at the top of the list and he thought I'd understand his fears more easily if I had the whole story. I don't think he'd shared it for a lot of years and I was honored to have him confide in me.”

“Should you be telling me this?”

“Luke's made his peace with it. He told me yesterday morning when I picked him up at your place that he didn't care who knew now. It's only a matter of days before everything comes to light anyway.”

She looked at the man she'd always respected, seeing him from a new perspective. Even knowing the worst, he hadn't been judgmental. He'd stood against his church council, determined to give Luke and the Sons the break they'd all deserved.

“What about Rambling Records? We still don't know if Luke's in the clear. You said yourself Luke wouldn't feel responsible for that money if he was innocent.”

“I said he
shouldn't
feel responsible. Big difference, but considering what I've seen of Luke Dawson I'm not surprised that he's determined to make restitution.”

“But Luke said—”

Ken waved away the thought. “Luke
wants
you to let him go. That's the only reason he told you that. Daniel says there's no evidence of any tie between Luke and Scott Rambling's shenanigans. I don't
need to wait for the official report to know our boy's in the clear.”

Claire's gut twisted. How could she have doubted Luke even for a moment? How could she have thrown such a hurtful accusation at a man who'd just said he loved her?

He'd even shared his heart with Ken.

“He told you he had feelings for me?” She tried to say it casually, but asking Ken for confirmation of another man's emotions was like passing a note in study hall.

Ken's smile was understanding. His knowing eyes squinted with kindness.

“It was much more than that, Claire. He was already falling in love with you and he was troubled about where it was headed. He was in tune to all your body language, knew there was heartbreak in your life and didn't want to add to it. He wanted me to pray with him about his past, about you. He's so afraid he'll blemish your reputation, undo all your hard work.”

She stilled, her hand poised above the gold cross she'd been worrying constantly for the past thirty-six hours. For the first time since she'd stomped out of his apartment she began to consider Luke's feelings. From what she'd read on the Internet and seen in the cable spots, he'd had a much harder time of it than anything she'd experienced, since his actions had been judged in the media. Naturally he'd guard his privacy closely, just as she did.

And how many times had he told her and others that his work was more than a business? It was his mission, the way he gave back, showed his gratitude for God's goodness. And now he'd even admitted it was the work he did to earn forgiveness, to try to cleanse himself from the deeds of his youth. Was he really afraid the dirt in his life would make her dirty, too?

She understood that logic. Felt it herself at times.

“Let me show you something I keep handy.” Ken interrupted her thoughts. He leaned down and tugged open his bottom desk drawer, rummaged beneath some papers, and handed a snapshot across the desk.

“Recognize anybody in that photo?”

Claire studied the group of scruffy haired college-age men in baseball caps and dark sunglasses. They puffed their chests out to display the crude slogans on their shirts. Arm in arm, they held beer cans aloft in a cocky salute. She raised her eyes to Ken for a clue.

“Just an average bunch of reprobates, huh?” he teased.

She shrugged, no idea where this was headed, and no energy to figure it out.

“Does this help?” He dragged a nearby Astros cap over his head, slipped on his sun shades and brandished his diet soda can.

“You?” She stared at the photo, amazed that her
pastor was once a rowdy young man. “This is
Ken Allen?
”

“I wonder the same thing every time I look at it,” he chuckled. “But I keep it close to remind me that everybody has something in their past they might regret and they're entitled to keep that something private. It's the sum total of our life experiences that makes us who we are today.

“Claire, what you've been through has made you a survivor, determined never to be a victim again. Luke's no different. His past is what produced the strong, caring Christian man he is today. Give him a break, accept him as he is.” Ken leaned forward and placed his warm hand over Claire's icy ones.

“And give yourself a break, too.”

 

“Claire, that fella from
Today's Times
magazine is out here. You got a minute?”

Her head snapped up from the endless list that had occupied her days. With her mind so crowded with pain and worry, she hadn't given a thought for Arthur O'Malley since the night of the accident. If he was in Houston that couldn't be a good sign. Maybe the follow-up piece was back on again.

“Just what I need,” she groaned into the speaker phone.

“I can tell him you're tied up but he already knows you're here because your car is out front.”

“No, it's okay, Justin. Give me a couple of min
utes and then tell him to come on back. Unfortunately, he knows the way.”

She puffed out a sigh that blew her bangs off her lashes, a reminder that she was days overdue for her hair appointment with Manuel. Pulling open her pencil drawer, she reached for her spare cosmetic bag and hand mirror. She held the glass aloft and studied the reflection. Tired smudges marred the skin beneath her eyes, a host of zits threatened to emerge on her chin at any moment and the only lipstick she had left was on her teeth. A rueful smiled twisted her mouth, first over the pitiful picture she made and then at the silly thought of doing anything about it. She was working day and night and there was nothing wrong with looking the part. She shoved her supplies back in the drawer and pushed it shut. Arthur O'Malley had all the story he was going to get from her. If he'd unearthed information someplace else, she'd just trust God to use it for good.

“Knock, knock.” O'Malley stood at her door, looking deceptively charming, polished and professional, an alligator briefcase in his hand.

She rose and noted the way her silk slacks bagged at the knees and her blouse sagged from the summer heat. So what?

She refused to give him a warm welcome. “What brings you back to Houston so soon?”

“The same thing that's got half the journalists in
the country in a stir. Striker Dark.” O'Malley smiled, the Cheshire cat so sure he knew all.

“Oh.” She motioned for him to take a seat and she sunk back into her leather chair.

“Not much surprises me these days, but I have to admit that visit from Dawson was a shocker. I'm guessing we can count on you to keep him from slipping back into oblivion.”

“Not that it's any of your business, but my future has nothing to do with Luke.”

“After what that guy did for you, you can't be serious.” He squinted, eyeing her closely. “But you're looking fairly miserable right now, so maybe you are.”

She shoved the bangs out of her eyes.

“Listen, this week has been one of the longest in my life and it's only Friday. I still have the weekend to get through.”

“Sorry, I won't keep you much longer.” He pulled a legal-size envelope from his briefcase and deposited it on her desk. “I just needed to drop off these drawings of the bike that you loaned me. Dawson's conditions required that I return them immediately and personally guarantee you the follow-up piece is permanently cancelled. In light of the recent developments, I'm sure you understand.” He stood. “I'll be on my way. I've got a meeting with Dawson within the hour.”

“Well, you've wasted your trip to Houston be
cause he's already gone. He left without so much as a goodbye for the guys in the band.”

“You really haven't spoken with him lately, have you?” O'Malley looked skeptical.

She shook her head.

“Dawson's still in town. I'm meeting with him at his apartment.”

The urge to go to him was strong, but she and Luke had said all there was to say when they'd flung their hurtful words at one another. He wanted her to stay away, and she would.

O'Malley flicked back the cuff of his monogrammed dress shirt to check his gold watch, and then stood. “You want to join us?”

“No, thanks, I'm not sure I'd be welcome. Besides—” she swept an open palm above her cluttered desk “—I'm finishing up a couple of projects here. I have a mountain of work to wrap up in the next twenty-four hours.”

She stood and reluctantly accepted the hand he offered. He held it, staring down at her.

“I was there, Claire. Early in my career I was one of the idiots who hounded Striker. I'm certain Luke recognized me that night I came to the church. That's why he was so rude to me. And I probably had it coming because I was one of the worst. We hunted him for amusement, to catch him already in trouble or to push him to the brink of it. The drugs made him easy prey. Guess I owe him an apology.

“He really must care for you. There's no other reason the man would subject himself to this. Whatever he might have done, forgive him. He's earned it.”

O'Malley gave her hand a final squeeze and left to keep his appointment with the man she loved.

Loved, but could never have.

In the quiet of her office, she sat perfectly still and considered the events of the past week. Luke had sacrificed everything that was important to him in order to protect her. And she had to ask herself whether she'd have done the same for him? Exposed that darkest part of her life she worked diligently to keep buried in fathoms so deep the nightmares couldn't surface.

She'd seen his eyes brim with shame when he'd told her the truth. How much harder was it going to be for such a proud man to expose his sins before the media that had hunted him like an animal? The media that saw his story as nothing more than a marketing piece.

When this weekend was over she'd find Luke, tell him she understood, and ask for his forgiveness. And though it would be the hardest loss of her life, she'd say goodbye with a smile on her face to the man of her dreams who'd saved her from her nightmares.

T
he Praise Productions trailer was loaded and the truck was packed and gassed up for the long ride home to Georgia. All he had left to do was swing by the kennel and pick up Freeway. But directions to the amphitheater on the seat beside Luke beckoned like a siren. He couldn't stay away. Not when he'd promised. Not after the long hours he'd invested in Eric, in all four boys and their support crew. Luke regretted that he wouldn't be personally involved in the recording but the least he could do was show up and cheer them on and then give each young man a personal goodbye.

Luke was only there for the kids. Yeah, right. Who was he fooling? Certainly not himself. He was there to find Claire, tell her the truth, that he'd never taken anything that wasn't his own because he knew the pain of being duped. He'd apologize for the cruel
things he'd said to her, ask for her forgiveness and maybe get one final smile from her to ease the ache deep in his chest.

The pathway from the parking lot to the amphitheater was alive with sparkling lights and excited chatter. Luke fell in step with the throngs of visitors, now and then getting a wave from someone he recognized. Not knowing if he'd be a welcome sight picked at his insides, but the friendly smiles and occasional claps on the back told him folks either didn't know or didn't care about the recent revelations that had made him withdraw from the Abundant Harvest community.

As he wound his way up the path busy with pedestrian and golf cart traffic, he marveled at the festive surroundings. Contemporary praise music poured from speakers in the distance, calling the visitors to a celebration of their faith.

Luke drew closer to the center of the excitement, a crescendo of anticipation building inside him. He marveled at the quick work of what had to have been an army of volunteers to pull such an event together in a matter of days. So this was the surprise Claire was talking about when she said the church was helping somebody out of a tough spot. His gut twisted with sinful envy, knowing he'd never deserve such an outpouring of support.

He topped the hill and watched the activity in the man-made valley below with fascination. The open-
air amphitheater was surrounded by sideshow-style games and activities. The little ones waited impatiently for their turn to defy gravity in the moon walk while the older kids battled against the clock in an inflatable obstacle course. The lights from carnival rides flashed in time with pulsing music and everywhere there was laughter and fun. Not something most folks would expect from a church function, but then this was not your grandma's church.

He wound his way through the quickly gathering crowd to where the professional crew at the side of the stage was testing the sound, preparing for the recording session that was only minutes away. He had to admit it would be a kick to work with a big organization like Battle of the Bands. The years of experience shared between the owners and their employees, and their goal of giving high school bands a leg up in the business, was an attractive proposition that had seeped into Luke's daydreams.

At least in what little space wasn't already occupied with equally absurd thoughts of a life with Claire.

“Luke! You're here!” Eric's voice cracked with excitement over the discovery. He bounded down the steps from the stage and into Luke's arms, as unconcerned for propriety as a small child whose only goal is to seek comfort from a loving parent. Luke's throat swelled with gratitude for the show of affection from the boy he'd come here to protect. The boy starved for fatherly love.

“Where else would I be?” Luke returned Eric's hug.

“Will you watch from backstage? We're ready but it would help to have you close by.”

As they wove through the maze of equipment on the stage Luke's stomach muscles tightened at the anticipation of seeing his brown-eyed beauty again. But she was nowhere to be found.

“Where's Claire?” he asked, knowing Eric would see through any wasted efforts to beat around the bush. “I figured she'd be back here with you guys.”

“We've already had our prayer time and she's gone out front to watch.”

“Fifteen minutes!” the stage manager shouted.

The familiar warning rang in Luke's mind, his adrenaline surged in a second-nature reaction.

“Come on, let's go see the guys and get you ready for your big moment.”

Ten minutes later with microphone in hand, Pastor Allen crossed the stage, ready for his duties as the evening's emcee.

“Welcome to the debut recording concert of the Harvest Sons!” He brought the audience to their feet with enthusiastic cheers for their hometown boys. “Thanks for coming on such short notice to be a part of this special evening.” He spread his arms to indicate the size of the event. “All of this was pulled together by the hard working council of Abundant Harvest Church, led by our very own Claire Savage.
The proceeds from tonight will go to Praise Productions to help share in a recent effort to offset some investment losses by sister churches in another state. This is our small way of thanking Luke Dawson for the incredible work he's done with the Harvest Sons.”

Luke heard the announcement from his position off-stage, deep in the curtains where only the band could see him. The crowd shouted their approval, music that fell sweet on Luke's ears. It was for Praise Productions. For him. Undeserved, like every other blessing in his life.

“Thank You, Father,” Luke uttered, unable to grasp the enormity of what these people had done for him, what Claire had done for him in spite of his cruel behavior.

Ken turned toward the spot where Luke was anchored and motioned for him to take a bow. The band took the stage, stood behind their instruments and applauded, refusing to stop until Luke made an appearance.

Icy worry twisted inside as he edged out of his hiding spot. For the first time in fifteen years the people out front knew him for his true identity. As a spotlight found him on the edge of the stage the applause grew, accompanied by cheers of approval. He gave a quick wave and ducked his head to turn away.

That's when he saw her.

Claire stood near the front of the crowd, looking as young in her jeans and lightweight blue pullover as the kids who surrounded her. She waved and pointed to the soundboard at the edge of the stage where Dana was perched on a high stool beside the audio professionals, no doubt telling them how to do their jobs. Dana gave him a thumbs-up, confirmation the show was ready to go on. His gaze sought Claire's one last time before he drifted behind the curtain. In her eyes he saw only forgiveness. Only love.

Zach raised his drumsticks overhead.

“A one, two, three, four,” he shouted as he tapped out the cadence, counting them into the first number. They opened with the song they'd done for the audition, one the Sons were sure of, one that was certain to keep the audience energized and on their feet. The pride Luke felt surpassed anything in his memory. He loved these boys, loved the woman out front more that his own life. How would he find the strength to drive away?

The big finish was coming. Eric mugged for the girls in the audience, striding to the front of the stage, breaking with the practiced choreography. He enjoyed the moment a little more than he should, an area where Luke had a lot of experience. The boy swung his arm wide, windmill-style, fanning the air close to his instrument.

Luke heard the loud twang and grimaced at the
pain Eric must have felt as his palm made contact with the tremolo bar on his guitar. Eric flinched but continued with his stage show and ended the song as planned. He turned away from the cheering crowd, blood trailing on the floor, dripping from his palm.

Luke met Eric halfway across the stage and applied pressure with a towel he'd grabbed. Ken took over, welcoming special guests, thanking the Battle of the Bands recording crew while Luke determined the extent of Eric's injury.

“Man, I hate to tell you this but it needs stitches.”

“Just put a bandage on it for now and we'll go to the emergency room after the show.”

“It can't wait that long. Look how it's bleeding.” Luke exposed the wound briefly. “If you don't get this taken care of right away you could end up with permanent scarring, maybe even lose some feeling in your hand.”

Eric's normally fair skin was becoming paler by the second. The possibility of missing his chance to record and letting his friends down was evident in his glistening eyes.

“There's always an EMT truck required at these things. Let's get you out to them. Those guys can have you stitched up and back on stage in no time.”

“What'll the Sons do till then?”

“Just leave that to me.”

Ken was beside them, taking control, shepherd
ing Eric toward the stage exit. He looked over his shoulder at Luke.

“There's only one way to handle this, Luke. Do it.” The pastor gave the order and Luke went into action before he had time to think it through, time to back out.

He crossed to Eric's position on stage and reached for the six-string Gibson Les Paul. The weight of the instrument at the end of his arm was a return to another life. The motion of raising the guitar to drop the shoulder strap over his head was magical, a movement he'd only performed in his dreams since the fire. His heart thumped a maddening beat against his ribs at the thought of making music again.

Recognizing what they were about to witness, the audience roared their approval. The rumble began.

“Striker! Striker! Striker!”

Claire held her breath afraid the moment would evaporate. Afraid the man she loved more than she thought possible would change his mind and disappear forever behind those dark curtains. The look in his eyes when he recognized what they chanted was sorrowful to watch. Would they never understand that was a lifetime ago, a lifetime Luke wanted to remain dead and buried?

Finally, she
fully
understood. His determination to leave wasn't to have things his way. It truly was to protect her from the masses calling his name,
dragging him down, deep into the past he so desperately wanted to leave behind.

He turned his back to the crowd and signaled for Zach and Brian to join him at the keyboard with Chad. They pressed their heads together, spoke briefly and, if Claire was not mistaken, took a moment to pray. Luke fastened Eric's headset in placed and turned to the audience, motioning for quiet.

“Someday I'll find the words to thank you for all you've done for me these past weeks. But today is not about me. It's about the Harvest Sons and the message of their music. Eric's injured his hand but he'll be right as rain in a few minutes. Until he gets back we want to do a song for you to set the tone for the rest of the evening. We're going to slow things down for a few minutes, while we offer up our praise to the Savior who showed us an amazing love.”

Luke fixed his eyes on hers and began to sing the words a cappella. Her breath caught in her throat at the honey-smooth richness of the voice he'd hidden until now. She had to look into those eyes, hear that voice for the rest of her days and she was prepared to do whatever it took to make that happen. She would not let him out of her life, no matter the cost, no matter the arrangement.

Never taking his gaze from hers, he deftly began to finger the strings and coax a perfectly pitched melody from the guitar as he sang the truth of the King who was forsaken.

Claire heard the swell of sound as the audience numbering close to two thousand picked up the refrain and sang along. Forgetting Striker Dark, knowing only that the man before them was sincere in his praise. Claire's voice blended with the others as best she could over the tightness in her throat. She felt tears spill over her lashes and trickle in streams down her cheeks, matching the same patterns she saw on Luke's face.

His heart was in his eyes as he sang, exposing his soul to her as hundreds looked on. The lazy smile that spread across his handsome face when the song ended was all the encouragement she needed. As an amphitheater full of Texans showed their approval, she squeezed through the tight throng, and dashed up the side steps past the grinning security guard.

Luke met her in the wings, his arms wide, hope shining in his green eyes. She pressed her face to his chest, clinging to him, her arms wrapped in a perfect fit around his waist.

“Forgive me?” she begged.

“Anything,” he promised. “I adore you.” He pressed soft kisses to the top of her head, his voice close to her ear. “God can do powerful work in us when we're weak so I should be a blank canvas for Him right now. I don't know what He has planned for the rest of my life but if you tell me it includes you, no matter where, I'll be a happy man.”

Claire tilted her head to see into his eyes and
pulled him close for the tender kiss that was her answer. What had started out for both of them as painful, God had turned into good.

Together they would share an amazing life.

An amazing love.