Kassidy's Crescendo (14 page)

Come to Me, My son. Rest in Me.

The call prompted him somewhere else entirely.

 

****

 

Drew didn't so much cross the threshold of Church of Our Saviour as storm its gates.

He had passed the majestic, soaring edifice at Park Avenue and Thirty-seventh Street too many times to count on his travels through the city. Head spinning, he entered the sanctuary and, despite his turmoil, was instantly blanketed by silence, peace, and a stillness that ran soul-deep.

Almost.

An inner battle continued to brew; his pulse rocketed as he walked to the front of the church and sank onto a pew.

OK, God. It's You and me. Right here—right now. I need answers. I need to feel You. Do You want me? Do You love me like Kassidy says? If so, then I need to know it. This is more than I can handle, and I need things to be right. I can't—I won't—let Kassidy be hurt by the kind of innuendo that defined my downfall with Roxanne. Please protect her.

Without even realizing it, he had folded his hands; he had slumped forward against the next pew, eyes closed, spirit sealed shut to everything except the longing of his heart.

And that longing wasn't just for Kassidy. He wanted the relationship. He wanted the grace, the absolute truth of God's love. The world tossed injustice, tainted accusations, and unfounded gossip at his feet. Not once, but twice. What was the lesson here? What was the point?

I've been there.

Words rolled, vibrated. Drew lifted his head, and he took in the shimmering brass figure of Christ on the cross that hung above the altar.

That's when a word came to mind, solitary, yet overpowering.

Deliverance.

Hadn't God delivered him into the fold of Sisters in Spirit? Hadn't God delivered him into the life and heart of Kassidy Cartwright? Hadn't God delivered pathways leading away from the power and wealth-driven aspects of the entertainment industry and into a world more satisfying and energizing?

The sanctuary was dark and empty but in a room to his left stood a large, golden receptacle. Three padded kneelers were placed before it. Something about the dim, recessed light, the stillness that enveloped the space, pulled Drew.

Could he do this? Could he—should he—crawl this close to Christ? What right did he have, really?

His muscles clenched. His jaw firmed as the battle continued—his will against the will of a God in hot pursuit. Drew pushed through doubts and entered the room. He felt discomfort at first, uncertain about being in such a sacred place when he struggled to figure out if he even believed. Soon, though, he knelt. Soft light glimmered against the surface of the beautiful holder.

Weak, undone, he whispered from his depths the only supplication he knew by heart.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”

 

 

 

 

12

 

Ready to kick off sound-check early Tuesday afternoon, Kassidy stood center stage at the historic Fox Theater in downtown Detroit, nestled within a small prayer circle that included her three Sisters, Liam, and Drew. Arms around one another, heads bowed, Liam began matters per custom, catching the blue-eyed gaze of his fiancée and saying tenderly, “Take us to Christ, Aileen.”

The words always stirred a joyful glow in Aileen's eyes and Kassidy savored the image.

“Father, we stand before You in humble adoration, ready to sing, and share and worship not for us, but for the hearts You'll touch at tonight's performance. Thank you for counting us worthy to serve You. May all that we do be for Your honor and glory. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

They started to break, but Drew hung back, not releasing his hold on Kassidy and Siobhan.

“Before we start rehearsal, I have a question. Can someone tell me more about what's involved in the RCIA program?”

Kassidy went still, knocked off balance and stunned by the words.

“I visited the Church of Our Saviour in New York yesterday and—”

“You what?” Kassidy murmured the words, unblinking.

“I went to the Church of Our Saviour.” He met her eyes, looked away fast. “Anyway, when I left, I picked up a bulletin. It mentioned a program called Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. RCIA. That's the program a person undertakes when joining the church, isn't it?”

Silence followed, so did slow-breaking smiles, expressions of joyful surprise. Drew shifted, and a touch of heightened color crested against his neck. “You know what? Sorry. Wrong time and place. I just figured since you guys know about this stuff…since you're all active and…well…never mind. We'll pick it up later.”

Drew shuffled awkwardly and turned away, but Liam blocked his path. “There's never a wrong time or place, man. I'm more than happy to explain how it works. My folks have headed up RCIA at Holy Spirit for years. It's a six month program, give or take, because it takes each candidate through the sacraments of baptism, confession, Communion, and confirmation. You're interested in joining?”

Drew's gaze flicked to Kassidy, then back to Liam. “Yeah, I am.”

Kassidy listened to the conversation, but words became oddly muffled, distorted by the rush of her pulse, the pounding of her heart. Her eyes stung while hope, fear, and joy mixed into a tempest that crested against her emotions and sent her on a dizzying spiral.

“Are you serious about this?” Kassidy's lips trembled as she whispered the words. She moved to his side, unwilling just yet to embrace an unfolding miracle—and hope come true.

“Very much so.”

“I'll be your sponsor, Drew. You'll need a sponsor, and it would be my honor.”

Siobhan, that precious angel, stepped into Drew's plans with sparkling enthusiasm. Meanwhile, Kassidy's throat swelled. Tears built so hard, so fast she fell beneath their power.

“I'm so sorry. Can you all please excuse me for a moment?”

Not waiting for acknowledgement, she spun toward the wings and retreated from the stage at a brisk clip, terrified of opening the gift God had just delivered.

 

****

 

Drew's immediate instinct was to lend chase. Before he could follow through, Siobhan grabbed his arm and pulled him into a private conversation. “She's not upset. She's overcome. What you've just done, what you intend to do, has set a seal on her heart. She's as strong as they come, but she's equally as fragile. She's vulnerable. I don't think she realized how much she loves you, until now.”

Drew looked into Siobhan's eyes, forcing himself to stay put and heed God's will. His inclination was to resolve Kassidy's exit, but his feet remained grounded as an otherworldly peace flooded his body and soul.

“Thanks, Godmother.”

“Go get her, Star Maker.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. This fairy girl was like a sister to him already. Drew tweaked Siobhan's cheek then took off. Where had Kassidy gone? He checked the green room; it was empty. The costume and staging areas were empty. At last, he came upon her in the makeup room which was silent except for her muffled sniffles. She sat in a stylist chair, alone, her back to the door he had carefully pushed open. Her head was bent, her hair a wavy curtain that shaded her face.

Moving silently to her side, Drew slipped a fingertip beneath the fall of her hair to draw it away from her face and over her shoulder. Her cheeks were flushed and moist despite the apparent use of a crumpled tissue that was clutched in her hand.

“KC?”

She didn't look his way. “I apologize, Drew. I'm behaving like an idiot. I guess I never let myself believe God could be this incredible.”

“Incredible?”

“Yes, incredible.” Finally she met his eyes. Love moved from her gaze into the farthest reaches of a soul he had cordoned off tight…until now. Until her.

“Drew, I dreamed of you my whole life. I dreamed of you before I even met you. What you're giving to God is something precious and sacred. You're the answer to every prayer I ever offered about the kind of man I want to love.”

“And spend your life with?”

Drew cupped her face to kiss away salty tears and thumb-stroke her cheeks. Her murmur of pleasure was all the motivation he needed to claim her lips.

When he broke for cooling distance and air, he continued. “This isn't an official proposal, not yet, but let there be no question. That's my dream. That's my intention. Being with you is everything I want most, everything I battled and bullied and prayed to God about during the past two days.”

Drew sat in the chair next to hers and pulled her onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around her, sending them on a slow spin as he kissed her forehead then nuzzled her throat.

“You warned me once not to make this relationship about you, or me, but about God. Circumstances have forced me to do just that. I've discovered something better and stronger in myself because of faith. You made me aware of the way Christian love transformed your life; it's transforming mine, too. That makes me brave enough to put everything on the line—even my job—to do what's best.”

Kassidy cuddled against his chest, and he celebrated his journey all over again.

“Take me to the beginning, because I want to know everything. What happened? What sent you to church?”

“It's more like what sent me tumbling all over again.”

While Kassidy hung on every word, Drew related the details of his meeting with Cameron Franklin, revealing the way innocence and happy pleasure had become completely twisted and misconstrued. Because of a returned watch. Because of a tender interlude.

In the end, Kassidy heaved a deep breath, and Drew wished he could somehow cushion her frustration.

“Sometimes even purity can be caked by mud.”

“But we can grow from the process.” Their eyes met and held. “KC, I don't know what'll come next from Ganneton. What I
do
know—without question—is God has placed me here for a reason. I'll follow that path. Another album will come for Sisters in Spirit, followed by another tour and performance bids that, hopefully, will require my skills. I've found a home here. I want your group to keep flourishing, and I want to be part of that process. Exclusively. I won't need other artists if I'm given the opportunity to paint the canvas of every stage the Sisters occupy. Maybe that chance will come via Ganneton, maybe not. If Cam feels I'm dispensable, I think Liam would retain me. Regardless, I trust where I am, and what I've been given. It's from God.” Drew took a long, saturating drink of her eyes and glimpsed the future. In that instant, every last barrier in his heart crumbled away. “I love you, KC.”

“I love you, too Drew. So much.”

The declaration shot pure, sweet adrenaline through his system, propelling him to that which was most important—most thrilling.

The future.

 

****

 

Standing alone in a pitch dark corner at the back of the Fox Theater, Josh Andrews watched Maeve Callahan perform. Lips parched, he trembled in the throes of a history rush and heart-push that left him unable to look anywhere else.

She was gorgeous.

An ocean of shimmering red hair cascaded against a gown of vivid green that flowed against an hour glass figure. How fitting a color for a woman who personified classic Irish beauty and appeal.

God alone knew how deeply he missed her, and that was part of the problem. It was almost time to step out of the shadows and be revealed. It was almost time to confront a love that had haunted him for years. He longed to return to lightness…to fullness of life.

To Maeve.

So much about her was the same as he remembered—like the way she swung her arms and tossed her head, the way she tasted each word she sang and absorbed the music into her very soul. She was an actress as well as a singer—adept at commanding the stage. Years removed from the high school girl Josh once knew, Maeve had perfected the art of drawing an audience in with facial expressions, a fluid dance step, or a coy swish of costume.

His breath caught as the ramifications of what he was about to do set in. This was real. This was going to happen.

He kept to the shadows as the sold-out concert wound down, but he scanned nearby faces. Josh's gaze landed on an usher. He was a beefy kid, maybe college-aged, well-muscled. The guy looked like an athlete. Maybe a football player, or a fan of the Detroit Lions. That would be a best case scenario. With so much time spent in the glare of the public eye, Josh usually craved anonymity. Not now. Perhaps the youngster would recognize him.

“Excuse me.” Josh's whisper captured the usher's attention. The usher's eyes went wide and he started to stammer—albeit in as hushed a way as could be managed. Josh offered a silent beat of praise to God. He had hit the jackpot. The kid knew who he was. Though troubled somewhat by a cast and sling that cradled his right arm, Josh extracted a small white envelope from the breast pocket of his suit coat. He hated using his name and identity as a trump card, but this time, it was necessary. “You know who I am?”

“Yes, sir, I sure do, Mr. Andrews.” The guy's attention darted to his broken arm. “You're an incredible quarterback. Hope you heal up OK. That Monday night game was a total nightmare but you played your guts out, even if we didn't make the playoffs.”

They whispered, but Josh didn't want to disrupt nearby patrons. He gave a short nod, not wanting to even think about that game. A nightmare, indeed. “Do you know who Liam Douglas is?”

The usher nodded eagerly. “He manages Sisters in Spirit, right?”

Josh nodded, lifted another prayer of gratitude, and handed him the envelope. “I need you to deliver this to him as soon as the show is over. Can you do that for me?”