Maeve's Symphony (6 page)

“Life definitely rushed at us. During college there was no time to breathe. I allowed relationships from one part of my life to fall away while new ones took shape and dominated everything else. The football fraternity at UCLA was like a lifeline amidst all the intensity, all the craziness that overtook my world when I went to California. Then, I was drafted by Detroit and parked my entire life in Michigan of all places. My insular world only intensified. Out of necessity, I became part of a very tight-knit entity second only to God and my family.”

Maeve focused on him, waiting, so he continued.

“You mentioned Doug. I meant to connect with him before I arrived in New York. I've missed him, Maeve, and he probably doesn't even realize it. I meant to stay in closer contact with everyone. My friends in Westerville mean a lot to me.”

“We know that.” Her gentle voice carried to him like a song that stirred sweet strains of tenderness, and forgiveness. “What else could you have expected? You left high school and entered a whirlwind. A vortex that sucked you in. We understood, and we cheered you on. We still do.”

“Part of me knew that's how my life would play out, but the reality of it, especially during my freshman and sophomore years, was tough. Character building, is how the coaching staff described it. I describe it as lonely. Nothing but.” He braved a long, drenching look into her eyes. “I never for one second forgot how special you are. I never stopped thinking about us.”

Instantly, her body stiffened and her features went stoic. Mask-like. Josh took the hint.
Us
was most definitely a closed topic.

That was OK—for now. He had said enough, and they had time. If the Sisters team accepted his performance offer, there would be an opportunity for the two of them to start all over again. So, he surrendered the need to know more, forcing himself to take baby steps when it came to reestablishing solid ground.

A couple entered the field wearing long sleeved shirts, running pants, and baseball caps. They began to jog along a section of the track just ahead of them. Josh let their motion lull him.

“I'm so sorry for what happened to your arm.” Maeve watched after the pair as well, her quiet voice carrying to him. “I can't stand watching replays of what happened, and for a while your tackle was all I kept seeing during football games. It made me sick inside. I know how important football is to you, and you've worked so hard. I really love watching you play. You're getting to live out your dream.”

“That means more to me than you know. I like the idea of you watching, and cheering for me.”

As they walked, her shoulder bumped lightly against his. Curving winds tumbled a few fast food wrappers across the grass. Small sticks skittered across the barren expanse of the football field. She tugged him toward a set of metal stairs that lead to the stands. Josh released her hand and draped an arm loosely against her shoulders when they claimed space on the first row of seats. The seats were cold, so they huddled automatically.

Maeve shifted to face him. “So you'll be in New York for a while?”

“That's the plan, probably until I report for training camp in a few months. Rehab resumes in earnest on Monday. I've had three days off as it is, and I can already tell that's been three days too many. Stiffness and a touch of soreness set in.”

“Wow. So, you work at it every day?”

“I have to. I want to, actually. At least coming here will make recovery a little easier to handle. I wanted to be away from the local spotlight. Plus, spending time in Westerville and New York City gives me a chance to visit a few of the community centers that are supported by my charity.”

“Where will you stay while you're in the city?”

“A friend of mine from UCLA plays for the Giants. Since it's the off-season, he's letting me use his condo because he's back in LA.”

Maeve blinked. “That's impressive.”

Josh shook his head and crouched against a breeze that kissed his skin then faded away. Yep. It was good to be surrounded by the woodsy scent and textures of home. “Nah. That's just the brotherhood of the NFL.” The wind kicked again, rippling a thick curl of hair across Maeve's cheek and mouth. His throat went dry when she used a fingertip to slide it away. “Meanwhile, look at you. Liam told me everything you're experiencing now is the result of what was supposed to be a simple, one-time-only performance. Talk about living your dream. I'm really happy for you.”

She tilted her head, squinting against the sun when she looked his way. “It's what God intended. For both of us.”

He sensed the melancholy that covered her words because he felt it himself.

But I always wanted more, Maeve.
The urge to speak those words aloud nearly burned through his skin.
Once upon a time, so did you. Once upon a time, we wanted the fairytale—with each other. What about now? Who are you now?

Only time spent together would answer those questions, so Josh kept quiet, listening to tree branches creak and chatter, watching birds circle above. By now, he needed motion, and warmth. He stood and laced his fingers through hers, smoothing a caress against the back of her hand. “Let's head back to town. I'll treat you to a latte.”

They trotted down the stairs to ground level and each footstep produced a hollow ring that echoed through the air in tandem with the memories and ghosts, the longings that swirled all around him. Josh kept his pace steady and even while they retraced their path to the car. There was a rock on the path before him. He tapped it into a fast, skittering roll with the toe of his shoe.

He unlocked the vehicle with a double blip from his key fob and crossed to the passenger side so he could open the door for Maeve. Tucking a guiding hand beneath her elbow, he assisted her inside.

But before he let go, he caught her gaze. “This was wonderful. It feels like old times.”

Very carefully, she edged her elbow from his grasp. Shadows crossed her face, darkness slid across her eyes. “Maybe…for a few minutes…but we've changed, Josh. After…after…high school…we had to. There was no other choice.”

Nope, there was no mistaking the way Maeve stumbled over her words, no doubting the layers of emotion that twisted and tangled and stretched between them.

“Maybe not then. What about now?”

Her chest rose and fell; she lowered her lashes and fastened her safety belt. Diversion. Discomfort. He knew what prompted part of her mood—an ambush. The rest of it he'd figure out. The curves ahead didn't bother Josh.

He was on a mission.

 

 

 

 

3

 

Not for one day in her life had Maeve Callahan been referred to as a morning person. That characteristic, paired with the fact that she had spent the entire night tossing and turning promised to make today's nine o'clock meeting at Liam's office a real joy bringer.

OK, in truth she had nabbed maybe an hour or two of fitful sleep, but all the while, a solitary, compelling specter haunted her every thought, her every breath, and every curling wisp of encroaching sleep.

Josh.

Josh Andrews.

Josh Andrews was most definitely back.

The words transformed to an unending drum beat, a rhythm that wreaked havoc on her spirit. She had been so busy living moment to moment from the instant she saw him that, until last night, until her tired mind tried to go quiet, she hadn't let the ramifications of his arrival set in. Sinking into the soothing cadence of ritual prayers had eased her for a short time, but she awoke this morning with no ready answers, no epiphanies.

Maeve convened with the rest of the Sisters team at the office they jokingly referred to as Zion's Peak-Upstate due to its location hours away from the label's true HQ in New York City. Today they tasked themselves with the objective of choosing songs for the Goal to Go benefit. Josh would arrive shortly so they could officially ink and affirm the plan to perform at Lincoln Center.

“So…” Aileen's voice cut into the silence. When no one responded to the prompt, Maeve looked up and realized Aileen's gaze was pinned right on her, eager and expectant.

“So, what?” Foreboding crawled in a chilling path up her back, across her shoulders, down her arms…

“So, fill us in! How was the reunion with Josh? Was it awesome? I swear, watching the two of you walk out of here yesterday, his guiding hand tucked all snug and sweet against your back, your cheeks all rosy pink, it was totally adorbs.”

“A ten out of ten, chica!” Kassidy sighed. “Wasn't it the best? Spill!”

Maeve gulped. “Ah, guys—”

“PS? You owe us major points for restraint.” Two-stepping around Maeve's discomfort, Siobhan weighed in, chin propped on her hand, already dreamy-eyed at the prospect of reviewing a romantic escapade. “Notice we didn't encroach, or text, or call, even though we're dying for details.”

Maeve fought off an agitated growl. This wasn't their fault.

Despite that sound piece of logic, Maeve experienced a powerful urge to cower from their loving probes. Stomach tossing, slouched in the same conference room chair she had occupied yesterday—when the world had fallen swift and neat from beneath her feet—she sank deeper into a quagmire. How was she supposed to express herself when so much about her past with Josh remained hidden beneath a blanket of shame?

“In the interest of appeasing curiosity and moving on, I'll share every detail.” Maeve went dramatic, assuming an air of intrigue. She leaned forward and cleared her throat in emphasis. “We walked along the track at Westerville High. We stood at the center of the football field. We sat in the stands, chatting. After that we had coffee. And then”—she paused, eyed each of her friends in turn, building suspense—“he took me home. The end.”

The girls groaned. Aileen ripped the top sheet from her note pad and wadded it into a ball, lobbing it at Maeve's head.

Maeve snickered, breathing an inner sigh of relief. Hidden yet again. Bullets temporarily dodged. “Sorry to dash your hopes and expectations, but it was really no big thing.”

Three faces fell into disappointed lines. Quiet sighs cut the air. Maeve shrugged, drawing a pen and pad of paper forward so she could start jotting song choices for the Goal to Go benefit performance. The hammer in her head thumped its way into a hard tattoo.

Josh Andrews.

Josh Andrews was back.

“All kidding aside, I'm a bit surprised you're not happier about this, Maeve.” Aileen gestured widely. “It's like a brush stroke of destiny.”

Maeve released the chuckle everyone expected, but she felt in no way humorous. “Brush stroke of destiny, Ailee? Come on. That's a bit over the top, isn't it, considering I've only seen him for a couple of hours after being apart for years and years. Don't blow things out of proportion. Lots of water has rushed under the bridge between me and Josh. It's nice to see him, sure, but that's all there is to it. Come on; let's focus.”

She clicked her pen and drummed it against the top of her designated yellow legal pad. Unfortunately, distraction powered away any thoughts of performance ideas. Song options refused to coalesce.

Giving up the attempt, Maeve guzzled from a bistro mug of coffee and sighed with bliss as a liquid caffeine charge slid through her system. Thoughts of Josh kicked in with equal power, arousing an ache that caused her heart to squeeze, and sent concentration flying—again. How was she supposed to cope with this? What should she do about his sudden and completely unexpected reemergence in her life? The roadblock was all about sex, all about her betrayal of God's will and the promise she had made to her friends. Even without that messy set of circumstances, there was no way the logistics of their lives could be smoothly combined.

Was there?

Maeve clutched her pen, knuckles white. Regardless of the answer, a pure and honest love had been tainted by physical needs they had been unable to control. Letting him into her heart, given past history, would be extremely dangerous.

They had lost their chance at forever to a dice-roll that landed on sin.

Could there be any clearer sign of that truth than the fact that God had delivered them to completely separate lives? No wonder, after the way they had abused the love He had given them.

Daughter…my precious child…you doubt Me. Never, ever doubt Me or My love.

A Spirit sweep caused tears to prickle and sting her eyes; Maeve straightened and forced herself to focus.

The Lincoln Center engagement was important—the chance of a lifetime—and she didn't intend to squander it. Besides, she didn't doubt God's love. She doubted herself, and her choices, and she bitterly detested the passion, the flood of emotion, that had cost her Josh and buried her heart beneath the weight of a secret she staggered to continue carrying.

Shoving that thought aside, she scribbled the words
Amazing Grace
across line one of the page before her. It was the song all four of them agreed on as their top choice. Next Maeve penned:
How Great Thou Art
. It was the song option that had been under discussion before their conversational shift, but she left a couple line spaces between the two titles and stretched back in her chair. What should be their third selection?

“Between Siobhan's dance moves and the type of orchestration Liam could produce, I have no doubt
How Great Thou Art
would stir a tremendous reaction.” Aileen concluded that matter to a chorus of agreeing sounds and head bobs.

“What about the third option?” Kassidy posed the question and propped a knee against the edge of the table. She pursed her lips and propped her notepad, visibly pondering.

“We need time honored hymns everyone will respond to, but I think we also need to give a nod to something a bit more contemporary. Something new. Something dramatic. Something that provides a provocative message.” With that, Aileen shrugged. “Ideas?”