Cherished (34 page)

The people went their way again, leaving Heather, Peyton, and a handful of others in the room. Peyton handed her a card. “I want you to come to Nashville for the next level of auditions. Can you do that?”

Heather's hand trembled as she took it. “I can be there whenever you need me to be.”

“Awesome. That's my manager's card. Give us a call next week. I can't promise anything, but I hope it works out.”

“I hope it works out too. Thanks for everything. I'll definitely be in touch.”

Heather floated back to her same seat and watched the rest of No Return's performance, but she couldn't have told anyone what they sang. She was in another world, reliving what had just happened, envisioning the future. She could actually be on tour with Peyton Vine in the fall.

A deafening roar went up around her, and Heather looked onstage. The band was gone. Already? She got up, showed her badge to a security guard who'd posted himself by the tunnel, and texted Ace again.

She surveyed her words before she sent it:
JUST COMING TO SAY GOODBYE
. She waited in the hall, and after a few minutes, Ace came out.

“How'd it go?”

Heather grinned. “Really well. Peyton said she hopes it works out.”

Ace brought his arms around her. “That's good news, girl. I told her you were fabulous. This is just the beginning for you.”

“I sure hope so.”

She slipped out of his hug, and he grabbed one of her hands.

“I haven't told you yet how nice it is to see you again.” He pulled her closer. “I missed you.”

She cast her glance downward and shifted her weight to put a little distance between them. “Nice to see you too.”

“Come here a minute.” He pulled her fingers, guiding her down the hall.

Her heart fell out of rhythm. “Where . . . where are we going?”

“Right here.” He pushed open the door to the dressing room next to the one they'd been in previously. No one else was there.

She backed up in the doorway. “Ace, I've really got to go. It's getting late, and I've got to be at work early.”

He gripped her hand still. “I can't keep you long anyway. The bus is leaving shortly.”

A sigh of relief shot through her, but she kept on alert. “Still, I've got to—”

“Shh.” He put his hand behind her back and brought her to him, kissing her lips before she knew what was happening.

“Ace, no, I—”

He smiled at her, his arms locked around her waist. “Playing shy now? I like that.”

He kissed her again, and she forced her head back, trying to wrestle out of his grip. “I don't want to do this.”

“Ace!”

Stunned, they both looked down the hall. Logan was striding toward them. Ace's grip loosened, and Heather backed completely away . . . and ran into Logan's arms.

He stroked her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Logan . . .” She was trembling, barely able to catch her breath, only now realizing how scared she'd been.

Ace swaggered toward them. “Is this a joke? You're rescuing
her
? Logan, I know you. You can do much better than this.”

Logan whispered in her ear. “One minute. Stay right here.” He turned. “Ace. I know you too and your fiancée—yes, I heard the news, congrats. I'm thinking
you
can do better than to force yourself on a woman who's clearly telling you no.”

“You don't know the facts, my man.” He held his chest out, pointing a finger at Heather. “I've already slept with this woman. She was just playing hard to get, one of our little games.”

Heather held herself. “That's not true. I was trying to leave.”

“You think that justifies your actions? That you've already slept with Heather? How are you living, man? You sat in that workshop claiming to have a right heart. You really need to check yourself.”

“Oh, now you're judging me too. I don't need a lecture from the choir boy.”

“Let's call it a night, Ace,” Logan said. “We'll chalk it up to too many beers. I want you to do one thing for me, though. Delete Heather's contact info from your phone.”

Ace glanced at Heather, then back to Logan. “I've always respected you, Logan. You're a stand-up guy. So I'm telling you straight, she's not good enough for you. She's a tramp.”

Logan's entire body tensed, and he looked like he might swing at Ace. She'd never seen fire like that in his eyes. He turned instead, took Heather's hand, and led her away. Then he stopped and turned back. “And for the record, Ace, you don't know the facts either. She's a better woman than I deserve.”

They walked in silence to Logan's car, his arm around her. She couldn't stop the tears. Whatever she'd learned about the new Heather was gone. She saw herself through Ace's eyes again. The tramp, the one who'd easily gone to bed with him.

They got in the car and sat there. Logan looked angry still, his jaw set as he stared out the window.

Finally he looked at her. “Why, Heather? Why didn't you tell me Ace called you? I
know
what kind of man he is.”

She was still crying. “He set it up for Peyton to hear me sing— and she liked my voice, by the way. Since we'd be at an arena, I thought I had nothing to worry about.”

He threw his hands up in frustration. “That's why you should've told me. Do you know how much stuff goes down in these backstage areas? Did you know his bus had already left?”

She turned shocked eyes on Logan. “He said the bus was about to leave.”

“I saw it pull out after I talked to the band. His road manager stays behind to take him wherever he needs to go. That's how he plays it.”

Heather's mind filled with horrible possibilities. If Logan hadn't come . . . “Did Kelli call you?”

“No, Brian did.”

“Brian?”

“Kelli told him while they were in the studio, and he didn't like the sound of it.”

“Well, how did you get backstage like that?”

“Doing what I do puts me in touch with a lot of people. If a Christian concert comes to town, I almost always know who'll be working it. In this case, they'd already sent me an access pass.”

Her head fell, and she put her hand over her mouth. She thought she might get sick. “Oh, Logan, he could've—”

“It's okay.” He reached across, his hand on her back. “It's over now.”

She stared into her lap. “I really can't blame Ace. He was right about me.”

“No. No.” Logan got out of the car, came around, and got her out. “Look at me.”

She stood against the car, gazing into his eyes, a half moon hovering above.

“He was wrong. He had no right to touch you without your permission. And he was not right about you. All he knows is the Heather that was crucified with Christ.”

Her gaze faltered, and fresh tears fell. “But I'm so ashamed of what I did with him in that hotel.”

“Heather, no. That's old. You're not going back there.” He tipped her chin up. “His grace and mercy have covered you . . .”

“Logan . . .”

“Sing it with me. Come on.”

Logan started again, and Heather slowly joined in.

His grace and mercy have covered you,

You're not the same;

No longer bound by what you used to do,

That's why He came—

So you could make a change, completely new;

And in His name

You're a conqueror, beloved too.

Heather exhaled, a faint breeze whispering through her hair, twinkling stars overhead, goose bumps on her arms . . . and Logan in her sight.

It was as if she were seeing him anew.

He ran a single finger across the sides of her face, erasing the tears. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat, make out its new rhythm. They stood that way for seconds more, taking one another in. Then he reopened her door, helped her inside, and drove her to her car.

thirty

I
T WAS CRUNCH TIME.

Brian rolled out of bed extra early Monday morning, raring to go. This was it. All the songs needed to be finished by the end of the week. Before Kelli left the night before, they took a fresh listen to the ones already recorded and were still excited about them. As of now, they had six in the can and two in progress—the love letter to the world and to fellow aliens. They needed four more. Well, as far as Kelli knew. There would actually be thirteen songs on the album. Brian had decided to work on one without her.

They'd mapped out a plan where Kelli would work in the studio every afternoon and evening this week. By God's grace, they would get it done. Brian couldn't believe it, given how much he'd struggled, but it was looking like this album could be better than the first. He hadn't concluded anything about school yet. He was praying for a clear answer by week's end.

He hopped in the shower with a melody in his head that Kelli had been playing last night. He'd caught himself looking at her again as she worked, thanking God that she was there, that they were connecting again. That they were friends. Sunday was the best day he'd had in recent memory, just being together and acting goofy at the picnic. She was a gift. Someone to be cherished.

Something about that word—
cherished
—put everything else on pause and beckoned him whenever it came to mind. He wasn't even sure of the full extent of its meaning, but he'd keep squeezing it until he was.

Brian got dressed and peeked into his grandmother's room. She usually beat him out of bed, but it was his habit to check on her. The room was empty. Probably on her morning walk. Maybe she'd be back shortly and they could have their cereal together before he went down to the studio.

He came down the stairs and entered the kitchen—“Grandma!”

She lay on the floor by the kitchen table, a broken bowl of oatmeal beside her. He ran to her side, shaking, heart constricted, afraid of what he'd find. He got on the floor beside her and felt her face.

“Grandma, wake up. Come on.” He felt her heart, put his fingers to her wrist. She didn't seem to be breathing. “Come on. We haven't talked yet this morning. You know how we do.” He stroked her hair. “Grandma, please wake up!”

The tears flowed as he pulled his cell phone from his belt clip and called 911. Then he called Kelli.

Brian sat with her on the floor, her head in his lap, singing “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” her favorite hymn, and stroking her hair. She was gone. He knew she was gone. Why hadn't he heard the bowl break? Was he in the shower? What if he'd found her sooner?

He heard the ambulance coming, but he couldn't separate himself. Would he be able to hold her again? The finality of the moment was more than he could bear.

The banging on the door forced him to move. He placed her head gently on the floor. When he opened the door, he discovered not only the paramedics but a slew of neighbors wanting to know what was wrong. He let the paramedics in, asking the neighbors to please wait. He needed some time.

Brian found the paramedics hovered over her in the kitchen. He hung back, staring at a picture of the two of them on the counter.

“Sir, she's already gone. Had she been suffering from anything?”

“She's been the picture of health. Only thing she complained of recently was headaches. She'd been taking pain relievers, but I told her she might want to go to the doctor.”

“We'll know more when we get her to the hospital, but could've been a brain aneurysm.”

Brian rode in the ambulance to the hospital, answering Kelli's texts the whole way.

HOW IS SHE
?

DO THEY KNOW WHAT HAPPENED
?

HOW ARE YOU
?

The last one he couldn't answer. He was too numb to know.

He sat with his head down in the waiting room, trying to pray, though unsure what to ask, trying to wait, though unsure what he was waiting for.

The tears started again. He was thankful she'd lived a vibrant life, thankful she hadn't suffered a debilitating illness. But he wished he could've said good-bye. A few minutes earlier and he would've seen her, laughed with her.

He heard someone approaching and looked up. “Hey, Kel.”

Without a word Kelli sat in the chair beside him, clutching his hand, sharing his tears. She was the only one on earth who knew exactly what his grandmother meant to him.

“I loved her, Brian. She was like my own grandmother, always so good to me.”

“She loved you too. She thought you were special.” He shook his head. “Had the nerve to tell me I'd never find anyone better.”

“When did she say that?”