Grounded (33 page)

Barry had a fit when Sam called him that afternoon—Grace could hear him yelling even though Sam didn't have her phone on speaker—but after a few minutes of sputtering about last-minute changes, with the tour less than two weeks away, there was a long pause … And then all Grace heard was Sam saying, “Uh-huh … Uh-huh … Really? … Okay, I'll tell her.”

Grace grimaced as Sam pocketed her cell phone. “Tell me what?”

A slow smile spread across Sam's face. “He likes your idea for the last set.”

Grace screeched.
“Yes!”

“He's going to send you a few suggestions of his own. But he wants a new song list no later than Sunday night, and wants you to commit to practices
every
evening next week if he can get the rehearsal space.”

“Yes, yes, I'll do it!” Grace started dancing around the room. “I know this is right! Thank you, Lord! Hallelujah!”

“Ahem!” Sam said, arms crossed, tapping her foot. “Maybe we should save the hallelujahs till we see whether we can actually get
permissions
for these songs on such short notice.”

Grace stopped dancing, chagrined. “Oh. You're right. That's a lot of extra work for you. Are you … do you … I mean—”

Sam dropped her phony fuss and laughed. “Of course, silly! Whatever it takes! We're gonna do this thing!”

While Grace was brushing her teeth the next morning, something Edesa had said yesterday popped into her head—something about mercy is
not getting
what we deserve, and grace is
getting
what we
don't
deserve. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror, toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. What did that really mean?

Fifteen minutes later she curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee, the cat, and her Bible. She'd been anxious to get to work on a new song, but … it was all too easy to let “urgent” stuff crowd out the important—like taking time to get into the Word and pray. This didn't seem like the right time to skip it.

She read through the first chapter of John's gospel again—and stopped at verse sixteen. “From his abundance we have all received one gracious blessing after another.” Wow.
Blessing upon blessing …

Blessings weren't earned. Or rewards. They were gifts.

Blessing upon blessing
…

She had heard this before. Probably nodded assent during a sermon or two as if she really understood it. But she hadn't. Not until now. Grace stared out the window absently, thinking about the blessings God had poured out on her over the years. Being able to sing, doing something she loved … rising success as a contemporary Christian music artist … a family who loved her, even her two rascally brothers … the greatest assistant she could ever hope for …

And Roger? Was Roger's change of heart part of God's grace for her, redeeming a relationship she thought was lost? She hadn't thought of it that way till now, but … She'd thought getting dumped by Fowler at Bongo was bad news, but that turned out to be a blessing too, getting a new agent who—

Ohmygoodness
. Her agent! She really needed to call Jeff about her idea for the West Coast tour! She almost reached for the phone, and then remembered it was Saturday. The Bongo office would be closed. Well, she'd call him first thing Monday. That'd be better anyway, because by then she'd have her song list—she'd better have, anyway—and maybe even a new name for the tour.

Yikes
. Would giving this tour a focused theme upset the apple cart? Most of the scheduled venues had probably already done their promo for the tour. She could still use “Grace Meredith in Concert,” of course, but she'd like something stronger, something passionate.

Something bigger than her.

Her meandering thoughts were interrupted by a movement outside the window. The Bentleys' grandson was running across the street. He passed her house and ran up the Jaspers' walk next door. A minute later she saw him running back toward the two-flat with Tavis and his older brother hot on his heels. She grinned. The boys were excited about something.

That was another blessing—getting to know her new neighbors, the Bentleys. And even the Jaspers next door, though she hadn't seen much of the twins since the snow melted. She should make more of an effort to be neighborly.

But right now she needed to get busy. She had a song to write. Hopping off the couch, Grace headed for the kitchen to make breakfast, her heart full.
Thank you, Lord, for blessing upon blessings you've given me, blessings I don't deserve … pure gifts
. And then she laughed out loud. That was it! Her new song … “Blessing upon Blessing”!

A while later, sitting at the piano with her laptop on the bench beside her, Grace moved hands and thoughts back and forth between the two keyboards, first playing with the words, then
teasing a tune from the piano. Time slowed as she worked, writing and deleting, trying another phrase, rearranging things. After a while, an incoming e-mail pinged, interrupting her concentration. She almost ignored it, but saw it was from Sam, forwarding some song suggestions from Barry.

She skimmed through the e-mail. These were great! “Grace” by Michael W. Smith … “If Not for Grace” by Clint Brown—she loved that one … and “Grace Like Rain” by Todd Agnew, for starters. Sam had attached a few suggestions of her own and added,
Wouldn't hurt to include a few hymns. Most of them are older than dirt and we don't need permission to use them. Just saying!

Grace spent the rest of the day listening to the suggested songs, printing out song sheets when she could find them, and even thumbing through an old hymnbook, then returning to the half-finished song at the piano. She wasn't satisfied with the new song, not yet … but by Sunday morning she'd chosen several songs for a meaningful set, maybe adding a hymn or two if some permissions were hard to get.

The new song would come in time; somehow she knew it.

Glancing at the clock, she saw it was still early. Why not go to the traditional service at Mark and Denise's church? She'd wanted to try it. She might even stay for the contemporary service at eleven. After all, she'd missed Easter Sunday last weekend, and had skipped church on Palm Sunday.

She slipped into the sanctuary at Faith Chapel a few minutes after the first service had started and took a seat toward the back. She smiled—no words were being projected on a screen in this service. Everyone was using a hymnbook as the congregation sang the opening hymn.

As the song leader announced the next hymn, Grace took a hymnal from the rack in front of her and turned to the page number as the organ and piano played the last few measures as an intro. She started to sing, and then stopped as the words focused on the page …

Marvelous grace of our loving Lord,
grace that exceeds our sin and our guilt! …

Goosebumps crawled down her arms, and her mouth suddenly went dry even as her eyes filled with sudden tears.
Grace that exceeds my sin and my guilt …
Had God brought her here this morning to remind her one more time what his grace for her was all about? Blinking back the tears and licking her lips, she was finally able to join in on the last phrase of the chorus …

Grace, grace, God's grace,
grace that is greater than all our sin!

Grace sat with Mark and Denise at the eleven o'clock. They seemed delighted to see her, but she declined their lunch invitation. “I leave for the West Coast a week from Tuesday and I'm still working on a new song. Gotta get a song list to Barry by this afternoon too.” She edged toward the door. “Can I take a rain check?”

Her brother made her promise to stay for lunch the following Sunday, before the tour—“Cross your heart and hope to die, Sis!”—but they finally hugged and let her go. She waved as she headed out of the church parking lot. She wasn't quite ready to share with her brother and Denise the revolution God had been doing in her spirit this past week—but it did feel strange to have shared so intimately with Estelle Bentley and Sam things she'd never shared with her own family.

In some ways, that was going to be a lot harder. She had more to lose if they were deeply disappointed in her.

And Roger …
O God
. Should she tell Roger about the abortion? How would he react? Would he still want to give their relationship another chance? Thinking about telling Roger was the scariest of all.

By four o'clock Sunday afternoon, Grace had a song list. She sent it by e-mail to Sam to look over first before sending it on to Barry,
and half an hour later Sam called back. “Wow, this looks great. And you have a new song? That's great! ‘Blessing upon Blessing' … can I hear it?”

“Not yet. Still tweaking the tune.” Grace was excited. The words had come on the drive home from church, had fallen into place, had fallen right out of her heart. Like a prayer.

“
Hmm
, okay. See you took my suggestion about including a hymn. Not sure I'm familiar with this one though. Tell me about it.”

Grace got her hymnbook and read the words of all three verses and chorus. “I don't know … it really moved me this morning. It says what I want to say. Might end the set with this. Even the tune supports the words—kind and tender. God's grace is greater than all my sin. Bottom line, what God offers us is … just grace.”

There was silence on the other end of the call for a long moment. And then Sam must've had the exact thought that hit Grace like a thunderbolt in the same instant, because her assistant suddenly screeched. “That's it! What you just said!
That's
your new title for your tour!
Just Grace
!”

Grace was just crawling into bed that night—still so excited about her new theme and concert title that she wasn't sure she could fall asleep—when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID.
Roger Baldwin …
A warm feeling spread through her body. Almost like old times, Roger calling just before she went to sleep.

“Hey, there,” he said. “Didn't wake you, I hope.”

“No, no, I'm still awake.”

“You doing okay? Kind of thought you'd call this weekend, just to stay in touch, you know, even if you still need time to consider how we're going to move forward in our relationship.”

“I'm fine.” Grace didn't know whether she felt pleased or annoyed that he'd expected her to call. “I did tell you I needed some space to consider what we talked about. It's only been a few days, Roger, not even a week.”

“I know, but … I'm thinking about you. Just thought I'd call. But I'll hang up if you—”

“No, it's okay, Roger.” Her mind scrambled. What would be safe to talk about? “Actually, I'm kind of excited, because God has given me a new theme for my upcoming concert tour—but I'm going to have to practice like mad this week with the band, since it's kind of late in the game.”

There was a slight pause on the other end. “A new theme?”