In Place of Never (29 page)

A smattering of stubble across his cheeks changed the look of his face. Dark bangs drifted into his eyes, longer than the first time I saw him sing. A crisp white button-down was rolled up to his elbows and stretched over his lean chest. He locked his hands behind my back and stared down at me. “How am I supposed to sing tonight with you out here looking like this?”

I teased. “It’s the boots, isn’t it? I had a feeling you’d go for a country girl.”

Cross chuckled low and deep, pressing me to him. “Baby, I’m in love with a country girl.”

My toes curled inside my boots. “Prove it.”

He lowered his mouth to mine. I arched against his chest, rising to my tiptoes. For a moment, the world was still, silent, void of everything outside our kiss.

The microphone screeched with feedback. “Uh, Will Morris?”

The crowd laughed and applauded. Cross took his time letting me go. I swayed a moment, watching him take his place on stage. Anton carried his guitar onto the stage, while I stumbled to the crowded table of Lovells.

Pru had taken Cross’s empty seat. “Nice hello you had over there.”

I pressed my lips together, enjoying the tingle left from his kisses. “No doubt.”

Anton motioned to his seat. “Here. You sit. I’m good.”

I collapsed into the chair, euphoria swimming in my brain. Rose and Tom watched me, but my eyes trained on Cross. Tonight was about him.

Cross settled the guitar strap over his head and strummed a happy melody. So much for the power ballad he’d wanted. My foot tapped in rhythm.

He hummed with the melody for a few bars before slowing the pace and piercing me with his unfathomable dark eyes. “She was a woman on a mission…learning about forgiveness…”

Breath caught in my throat. Was this about me? Had he written a song about me?

“She was planning to make a difference...”

My heart welled, filling every inch of space inside me. Pru bumped my elbow. I clasped my hands to quell the trembling and focused on his angelic voice.

“But sometimes things don’t always go as planned.”

The crowd stilled around me, equally intoxicated with his presence, collectively yearning for his next words. What didn’t go as planned?

“Some say her heart was broken, but they didn’t even know her. She was stronger than the world dared to see.”

I blinked wet eyes. It wasn’t about me.

Pru gripped my hand in hers. The word barely lifted from her lips. “Faith.”

“Her beauty never tired, she was hope, Faith inspired. No one ever loved her more than me. Now I’m living out her message and I’m reaching for the next page and I’m proof she can go on. That’s her way.”

Cross strummed harder and hoisted his body off the stool, where he crooned into the microphone.

“No, we don’t have forever, so I’m throwing out the never.

“I will find my truth. I will conquer and divide. I fight for what is right. I will challenge all the lies.

“My love will make a difference in the world of unforgiveness. I’m shining up the pages in a life with too much grayness. In your smile and your faith, I’m alive.

“We’ll turn the darkness into light. We won’t give up without a fight. We’ll be the change we prayed so long to see.”

Tears streamed over my cheeks. Those were Faith’s words. Rearranged and set to music, no longer hidden on a blog no one read. Cross had yanked them from cyberspace and made them real. Made her real. Her words were alive with us, changing faces in the room, changing hearts, changing me. Pride and joy burst through me.

The chair rattled as I stood, breathing in the moment. I opened my arms to suck it all in.

Pru and the Lovells joined me, nodding and swaying to the words.

“There’s no place for never in a world so blessed by heaven. No time to sit and wish you’d done things right.

“No, we don’t have forever, so I’m throwing out the never.

“Set aside the unforgiveness. Decide to make a difference. Vow that you and I will live today. Let’s live today.”

The crowd went insane. Dozens of girls rushed the stage, drowning the emcee’s recap of competitors in endless applause. I craned my neck for a glimpse of Cross, but he was swallowed in the crowd.

Anton moved into view. “May I?”

I shrugged. He could do anything he wanted. I was high on endorphins.

Anton’s hands wrapped around my waist and he lifted my feet off the ground. Pru took my fingers, guiding me onto the table. From the added height advantage, I pinpointed Cross in the knot of frenzied patrons.

Pru scrambled onto the table beside me, squeezed me against her side and screamed over the noise. “Best. Night. Ever.”

Anton clapped over his head, calling for an encore and chanting, “Will, Will, Will, Will.”

The crowd joined in.

Cross emerged with a look of concern. His eyes met mine and he made a straight line to my feet on the table. He wrapped one arm around my back and I jumped into his arms. My legs wrapped around his middle on instinct. The material of my skirt fell over my thighs. His free arm supported my weight. People cheered. His dimple caved in. “You liked it?”

There weren’t words to show how much, so I kissed him.

Pru hooted and hollered from the tabletop.

Feedback from the microphone stopped our kiss, but he didn’t let me go. “I don’t know about you guys,” the emcee snarked, “but I think we have another unanimous winner tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give it up for Will Morris!”

Cross spun around, pressing his lips to mine and smiling in between kisses.

The emcee beckoned. “Come on up here, Will. We’ve got a big fat check with your name on it and a personal invitation to dinner with music execs in Memphis, Tennessee.”

I untangled my ankles and stretched for the ground.

Cross cupped my face in his hands. “I love you.” He kissed my forehead and turned for the stage.

“I love you, too.”

The crowd settled into their seats, save one fortysomething pastor standing shell-shocked five feet away.

“Daddy.”

Revelations

As Cross climbed onto the stage in victory, I schlepped through the crowd in shame. I’d blatantly defied my dad, betrayed him and horrified us both by jumping on my forbidden boyfriend in public. Not exactly appropriate behavior for the preacher’s daughter or a future theology student.

I bypassed Dad, opting to gather my thoughts and prepare a proper explanation before he confronted me. Cool night air slapped my burning cheeks as my feet hit the sidewalk outside Red’s. Having a rational discussion with him was hard enough. Having that discussion in a bar wasn’t happening.

He didn’t stop me. I assumed he waited to collect his other daughter before storming home. I arrived first, put on a pot of coffee, and took my seat at the table, anticipating the inevitable and plotting to avoid an ugly battle.

Pru texted twice.

“You okay?”

Followed by:

“I’m with Dad. I said good-bye for you.”

Ahead of her texts were four I’d missed. The music and crowd inside Red’s had been louder than I’d realized. Dad had texted me every ten minutes from ten until ten forty. My heart sank for him. He must’ve been so worried when we didn’t answer.

Tendrils of rich steam rose from the coffeemaker, filling our little kitchen. I tapped the screen of my phone and responded to Pru’s text. What was taking them so long?
“Where’s Dad?”

The back door swung open and I jumped. Dad stopped cold, apparently stunned by my presence. He probably expected me to be in my room, not waiting at the table.

Pru’s response text arrived as she passed through the threshold behind Dad.

“Home.”

I steadied my nerves. “Can we talk? I’m making coffee.”

Dad grimaced. “You can’t do that, Mercy. You can’t expect me to treat you like an adult when I just saw you wrapped around some stranger at a bar like an out-of-control child.”

I poured two cups from the still-brewing pot. “I haven’t been a child in a long time.” Steam from the coffee warmed my face and eased my mind. I placed the mugs on the table. “Let’s talk.”

Pru gestured wildly enough to land a Cessna behind him.

Dad knew without seeing. “Go on up to your room, Prudence.”

She turned on her heels and left the room, though she likely stopped to listen from the stairs.

I sat.

Dad stood behind his chair, clamping bloodless fingertips over the backrest. “I prayed for years that you’d snap out of your grief and come back to me. Now I’m not sure you’re any better off. What’s gotten into you? At least you were safe in your room.”

I choked. “Better off? You think I was better off wrapped in my blankets, locked in my head, punishing myself with every thought and action? You have no idea. None.” I rolled my arms over to show the scars on both arms. “This stopped my pain. Not you. You were busy praying for God to intervene.”

Dad slammed his palm on the table.

I shot to my feet. “You hid behind your faith. Yes. God intervened. He answered your prayers, three years later. He brought me back to life, but He gave you three years to get in the game. Three. I didn’t need to suffer alone all that time.”

“Dammit, Faith!” He slapped a hand over his mouth. “Mercy.” He blinked wide eyes. “I didn’t mean that.”

“To yell, swear, or call me Faith?”

He gasped. “None of it. I know you’re not Faith.” He scrubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.” He groaned into both palms. “There’s so much at stake and it’s slipping away. I know you don’t understand now, but one day you will.”

I shook my head. He was such a parenting cliché. Did he even try to write his own material? Did he just deliver everything every parent ever said in sound bites as needed?

Someone had to be the sensible one. “I’m sorry for breaking your rules. That was disrespectful.”

“You’re sorry for breaking which rule? For going to a bar?”

“No. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was there with friends, supporting someone I care about. It wasn’t late, and I wasn’t drinking.”

Dad paced the kitchen floor. “We’re called to avoid the perceptions of sin, and you know that.”

“Dad.”

“No. Put yourself in my position for a change. Imagine my terror when I came home and both my daughters were missing. Do you have any idea what that feels like? The answer is no. You don’t. You can’t.

“I went to White Water Coffee first, planning to complain, but share your table and ask how your day went. Didn’t matter. You weren’t there either. I considered you’d gone to see your mom and Faith, but it was dark. I prayed you hadn’t disobeyed and gone near the river or the campgrounds. I prayed for peace because panic spread through me, and I imagined you and Pru in the river.” He stopped speaking and stared at the ceiling.

“Walking past the bar, I thought I recognized the lyrics to a song. The words were so familiar, I stepped inside, not yet remembering you’d told me the Lovells were here for the song writing competition. I saw Pru first, standing on a table. I barely recognized you spinning in that boy’s arms. Your hairstyle is still new to me. All of it. The clothes. Makeup. The setting was all wrong, but that was Pru. So, I knew my eyes weren’t deceiving me. You were kissing that boy from the sideshow, the one who brought your wallet back, in a room full of people. His hands were all over you. What were you thinking?” His voice ratcheted up.

“I was thinking I love him.”

Dad’s eyes closed and reopened in slow motion. He turned his face from me and walked away. I guess he thought there was nothing left to say.

He’d won one battle. His bitter words had robbed me of my celebration with Cross. We’d planned to meet on the roof at midnight, but I couldn’t celebrate in the aftermath of Dad’s anger. I needed time to process all the accusations.

Had I gotten so confused this month that I couldn’t see how much I was screwing up? Was loving Cross worth losing my dad?

Our family rode to church in silence the next morning, where Pru and I warmed the front pew, as expected. We looked appropriately demur and content to be out of bed, dressed, and playing hostesses at nine on Sunday morning. We were perfect. Cue the doves and light the halos. Okay, my attitude wasn’t perfect.

Dad approached the pulpit and opened his Bible. We bowed our heads in collective prayer. The church doors opened and shut as last-minute arrivals shuffled into their seats. I started when someone sat beside me.

Dad ended the prayer. “Amen.”

I donned my well-practiced smile, ready to welcome the visitors. Only visitors would sit in the front pew. Regulars sat near the rear, either for a quick post-service escape or to lead the reception-hall doughnut line.

Whispers drifted over the congregation.

I opened my eyes. Cross closed his hand over mine. Beside him, Anton and Rose looked as uncomfortable as possible in their severe vintage attire. Anton looked like an old-fashioned mortician again. Rose had pulled tidy raven curls over her neck tattoos. Her black pinafore dress and pumps were perfect for a funeral. The small pillbox hat and veil reinforced the look.

Pru’s hand curled over my forearm. She vibrated with enthusiasm.

Dad’s blank stare worried me. Would he make a scene? Or stroke out after all? In church? The irony. His gaze slid over the trio on my right and stopped at Cross’s hand on mine.

Cross kept his chin level and his eyes on Dad. Cross’s gunmetal-gray dress shirt emphasized the depth of his eyes and the shine of his lip piercing.

“Well.” Dad coughed into his fist. “I had a sermon prepared on the importance of virtue and obedience to God’s will. It seems He had other plans.” He looked into my eyes.

The crowd chuckled. Awkward tension zinged through the air. My chest rose and fell in subdued gasps. Cross squeezed my hand. He turned our palms against one another to entwine our fingers.

Dad changed pages in his Bible. “I think today’s sermon might be meant for me. Given the month’s events in this community and in my household, I think it best to talk about two powerful acts of love. Two of the most difficult things for us as emotional, imperfect humans to do, are often the most freeing. First, is a discipline I’m working on, personally. Withholding judgment. Secondly…forgiveness.”