12
“I feel silly.” Kacey stood in front of the standing mirror in Sierra’s bedroom, smoothing the mini dress that showed way too much of her legs, if anyone cared about her opinion. Which, apparently, they didn’t.
“If that’s what the military can do to my body, sign me up!” Willow sat cross-legged on the bed behind Audrey, braiding her hair into French braids.
“You do have amazing legs, Mom,” Audrey said. “You should show them off.”
Kacey glanced at her in the mirror. “Enough from you.”
She turned to check out where the shimmery purple and orange sleeveless dress landed on her thighs, noticing of course the scar high across her shoulder. But her hair mostly covered that up.
“I’ll need a jacket,” she said. “In case it gets cold.”
“Right. In an auditorium full of screaming fans. You’ll probably spend the entire night on your feet, jumping up and down. I promise, you won’t get cold.” Audrey grinned at her, eyes shining. “I just can’t believe you’re actually going on a date with Benjamin King!”
Sierra looked up at Kacey from across the room, where she was rifling through her jewelry box. Raised an eyebrow.
Kacey gave a quick shake of her head.
“It’s not a date,” Kacey said, turning back around. “Actually, Hollie gave me the ticket. And Ben and I are just friends.”
“I wish she’d invited me too.”
Willow finished the second braid, secured it. “You have band practice. But frankly, I’m with your mother. I heard Hollie’s new release, and I think maybe she’s courting an older audience.”
Audrey shook her head, climbed off the bed. “I’m fourteen.”
“And I’d like to keep it that way,” Kacey said.
“We need to get going. Nate and the others are probably already at the church.” Willow reached out for her hand, but Audrey clasped her mother around the waist.
“Have fun tonight, Mom.”
Kacey kissed the top of her head, seeing Sierra’s smile.
She came over, holding a gold necklace. Downstairs, the door shut.
Kacey took the necklace, tested it. Gave it back. “I don’t need any bling. Or these crazy high heels.” Three-inch platforms, and they only posed a health hazard. “I’ll wear my boots.”
“For the record, I agree with Audrey. You have great legs.”
“The last thing I need is Ben noticing my great legs. That’s probably how we got into this mess.” She leaned forward, checked out her makeup. Too much, probably, but—
“Hardly. Ben and you were—are—soul mates. Yes, you made mistakes in high school, but Ben never had anything but long-term intentions with you.”
Kacey stared out the window, watching as Audrey climbed into Willow’s Jeep parked on the road. The driveway still glistened with mud, and Sierra’s poor deck lay in pieces across the side and back yard.
“I know. I’ve always known that. It’s just that he said something last night about being ashamed he’d gotten me pregnant.”
“Of course he was. He was a preacher’s kid, and here he was not only sleeping with his girlfriend, but he got her pregnant, proof of his sins in front of the entire town.”
No wonder he’d proposed. Kacey had never felt like she’d trapped him, not really, but somewhere in the back of her mind, the thought lingered.
“He wasn’t the only one. After everything my parents did for me—taking me in when my mother went to jail, raising me. They gave me everything, taught me right from wrong. Yet when I found out about my mother, I felt so betrayed. Ben was the only one I would listen to. He was my best friend before he became my boyfriend. I can still remember how devastated I felt, giving birth to Audrey without him there.”
“I’m sure he felt the same way.”
She hadn’t thought about that before, but knowing him now—yes, he had to have been bereft at his decisions, that he’d let his anger, his pride keep him from the most important moment of his life.
“You know he got in a fight with Cash that night—that’s why he didn’t show up. He was in jail.”
“That fight was a long time coming, Kacey,” Sierra said. “I’m not sure he was in the wrong—seems to me he was defending your honor.”
“And his.”
Sierra conceded with a nod.
“And, in his defense, I did consider giving Audrey up for adoption. My dad wasn’t lying about that.”
“You did?” Sierra approached with a container of perfume, misted it in the air.
Kacey walked into the mist. “I just kept thinking—what if I turned out like my mother? In a crazy fit of anger, I’d destroy someone’s life, and then Audrey would grow up with the same horrible fear, that deep down she comes from bad stock.”
More silence, and finally Kacey turned.
Sierra wore concern on her face. “You don’t think that, do you? That you’re somehow innately flawed?”
“I know I am. Ben might have felt shame over breaking his Christian vows, but I didn’t. I just wanted him to love me. For me to belong to someone. He was ready to bring me home that night. I’m the one who . . . I said yes before he even asked. I got us here, just as much as he did. I probably deserved that word written on my car. And Ben paid the price.
“The fact is, I am flawed—I’m selfish and afraid, and right now, not a little messed up. I still can’t sleep through the night without sleeping pills. And while Audrey and I are better, I’m not a good mom. I’m a part-time, Fun Mom. And maybe that’s all I’ll ever be.”
Kacey turned, surveyed herself in the mirror. “I’m not this girl. I’m really good at one thing—flying choppers. And maybe I need to accept that.”
Sierra had sunk down onto the bed. “And Ben?”
Kacey wrapped her hands around her waist. “I want it so much it scares me. When he kisses me, I’m suddenly not the daughter of a murderer, or a mom who leaves the hard jobs to others, but someone whole and clean. I’m again that girl who sat in the audience, believing he was singing only to me.”
“Maybe he was. Maybe he is.”
“No. He’s singing to his fans—his songs aren’t his own anymore. Frankly, he’s as lost as I am. Maybe our mistakes are unfixable. It’s not like we can pick up the pieces, make everything brand new.”
Sierra slid off the bed, came over, and put her chin on Kacey’s shoulder. “Listen. You’re just scared. You’ve gotten a taste of what you want, and you’re tempted to run. Instead of telling yourself you can’t have the happy ending, why don’t you let go of all your dreams—and your fears—and let God show you how it ends. He’s the master of happy endings—let him figure it out.”
She leaned back, turned Kacey around. “When you found out about your bio mom, it blew your world apart. I was there, I remember. And Ben was there too . . . and he helped put you back together. And then he left and you had Audrey and you were still sort of in pieces. And I know the military gave you glue for your life. You’re an amazing chopper pilot. But then that world blew apart. And now here you are, still holding the pieces, right back asking the question, who am I and where am I going? And I have one answer for you, the one that’s been there the entire time. The only one who can give you the answer to all your questions is God. He is the object of your searching. We find ourselves and our happy ending by finding him and realizing the grace, the love he has for us.”
Sierra caught her hands. “You thought you were coming back to save your daughter from making your mistakes. But what if God brought you back here to save you, to redeem your mistakes? To put that heart of yours back together, delight you and reunite you with the one man you’ve always loved, only this time in wholeness?”
Sierra pulled her close, hugging her. “Don’t be afraid of letting go and walking into all God has for you.”
Kacey longed to believe Sierra’s words, to lean into them.
To believe that God might forgive her for her mistakes, her gut-wrenching decisions, and somehow make something beautiful out of the pieces.
Sierra let her go, and Kacey found her cowboy boots. These, she could dance in.
“Thanks for taking Audrey for the night. I’ll probably come back here after the show and crash too.”
“Okay. I’m going over to Ian’s to see if we can track down any more information on Esme.”
“You’re going to Ian’s?”
“Please don’t look at me like that. I’m not working for him—I’m just helping him contact guests who might have stayed at Saint Mary Lodge when Esme arrived, maybe given her a ride somewhere.”
“So you’re giving him your time for free.”
“We’re friends—and again, stop looking at me like that. Can’t friends help friends?”
Kacey finger quoted. “Friends?”
“Yes.” But a blush pressed Sierra’s face. “He’s alone right now, and he needs someone who cares about him. He can’t move on until he finds out what happened to her.”
“That, or he can’t let you go.”
“Trust me, he can let me go. After all he’s been through, I should have never thought there was anything between us. Ian has no room for anything in his life but finding Esme.”
Kacey raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t let him hurt you.”
Sierra shook her head. “He won’t. But I do need to pick up a pizza on my way.” She picked up her cell. “Have fun at the concert.”
The parking lot at the Great Northern Auditorium was already full when Kacey arrived, a warm-up band stirring the crowd with their country ballads, a little rock and roll thrown in. She found her seat on the front row, a little dazed by the giant Hollie Montgomery banners hanging from the ceiling of the venue. She hoped Ben hadn’t seen them—until she saw his own banner, a giant square right over the stage, a magnificent picture of him sitting on a stool, playing his black Gibson, wearing his brown Stetson, his dusty curls dragging out behind the brim. He wore a white T-shirt, something that outlined his superstar physique, a tantalizing smatter of beard, a hint of a smile as he leaned into the mic.
Oh boy.
“Don’t be afraid of letting go and walking into all God has for you.”
She raised her hands, clapping along with the band, swaying into the song.
You’ve got a wild side
Something like mine
But when we’re alone
Gonna take my time . . .
When she heard the lyrics, she knew she’d made the right decision keeping Audrey at home. The band stayed for an encore, then relinquished the stage to Montgomery-King.
Apparently Ben’s people had a chat with Hollie’s new manager, because the MK graphics flashed on the Jumbotron.
And then the fireworks began.
Hollie and Ben came out from the wings, singing their signature song, the one she’d deleted off Audrey’s playlist.
Ben looked like his album cover photo, except in a black T-shirt outlining his poster-boy physique.
Hollie picked up the second verse, looking at Ben like he might be her true love.
Kacey tried to let the words of the song bounce off her, but she hated the way he gazed into Hollie’s eyes as they dove into the chorus.
Let’s start a fire
Let it burn brighter
I’ll show you how to light up the night
So maybe this wasn’t the right concert for her. She clapped her way through the song and found herself cheering when Ben turned to the audience and treated them to a guitar solo.
But Hollie’s gaze on him had Kacey’s chest burning.
Worse, to her eyes, Ben seemed to be enjoying himself. And why not—cheering fans, a cute girl singing to him like he alone could, well, light up the night.
Kacey held on to the rail. Audrey was right. She’d probably stand the entire concert.
Unless she left.
She was looking for the exit when she heard Ben step up to the mic.
“It’s awfully nice of Hollie to let me crash her party tonight. I know you all signed up for a Hollie Montgomery show. I hope you all don’t mind me taggin’ along.” He said it in his fake yet convincing and sexy drawl, and the crowd roared their approval. She wondered what it cost him to say it, however.
“But Hollie said I could sing one of my favorites, especially since I’m back to my old stompin’ grounds. This is a little song I put together back when I was dreaming of following my dreams to Nashville.”
Hollie had scooted him up a stool, and now he sat on it, propped his leg up.
Kacey couldn’t move when he started picking out the tune.
No . . . oh no.
He leaned into the mic, and suddenly she was back in the Gray Pony, watching him fight the crowd for attention.
Early riser, gonna catch the sun
Gotta start ’er early, gonna get her done . . .
She pictured herself sitting on a high-top, tracing the afterglow of the sun on his face, seeing him in his worn cowboy boots, faded jeans, a clean T-shirt.
She didn’t care what he said about her being his dream—he’d wanted to sing his songs for as long as she’d known him.
After the big game, the bonfire’s on
I got my pretty gal, not doin’ nothing wrong
Wishing on stars, hoping in the night
Someday everything’s gonna work out right
Someday. She nodded. And it had, really, for him. He’d crafted an amazing career, charmed millions with his songs, including his own daughter.
The crowd cheered as he added a riff to the end of the verse, diving again into the chorus.
Believin’ that the dreamin’s gonna get me far
It had. And it still could, if he wanted it. His voice could still make her shiver; the smoky heat tunneled under her skin, awakened emotion—hope, joy, even longing—inside her. Probably he did that for all his fans.
In his last stanza, the fiddler and the drummer dropped out, leaving just Ben and his voice, his guitar, lonely and poignant on the darkened stage. His song lifted, sweet and sad, falling upon her.
Somewhere back there, the mountain waits
Sorry, darlin’, but I’ll be home late
I’ve got a song to sing, the dream demands
C’mon, boys, let’s warm up the band
He let the last notes drift out, falling on silence before the crowd erupted. She stood there, her cheeks wet, her eyes blurry.
The dream demands.
He stood up, looked out in the crowd, and she couldn’t tell if he was searching for her or not.
But how could he see her, really, against the bright footlights of the stage? And he wouldn’t notice, either, if she slipped out.
In fact, amidst all the applause and the triumph of the evening, he probably wouldn’t even miss her.
She waited until he and Hollie started their next song, jamming hard into something about blue jeans, cowboy boots, and blondes, and headed for the door.
He was wrong. Ben might be able to come back to Mercy Falls, but Benjamin King could not.
For the first time since Ian fired her, Sierra could admit that perhaps this was better.
Sitting down to pizza with him as her equal, if she could ever call Ian that, helping him with his search, filled a place inside her she hadn’t quite realized was empty.
More than him being her entire world—they’d finally become real friends.
They sat on the leather sofa, the pizza box open on the coffee table, a list of the guests of Saint Mary Lodge in front of them, procured by her after pleading Ian’s desperate case and, of course, adding Ian’s generous donation for an updated dining room. It helped, too, that Sam had called, verified their official search needs.
Sam had been checking in with her too. Even stopped by last night after she got home, a late-night pizza in hand. Poor guy put in too many hours as the town’s deputy.
She had called nearly all 116 guests of the lodge, cabins, and motel rooms. “I left a message with the Lefevres and the Williamses—and I’ll keep calling the Jansens, but we’re getting to the end of the list, Ian.”
He had kicked back on the sofa, his bare feet on the table.
She noticed the wounds on his knuckles had healed, finally.
She desperately hoped Ian had heard her words about God not punishing him. About wanting to set him free.
“I know,” he said, reaching for another piece of pizza, sliding it on a paper plate, licking his fingers clean of the sauce. “But we’ll figure out something.”
We.
See, a team. Friends. Equals.
She dished up her own piece of pizza. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to spend more time on this.”
“Your new job seems to be working out.” He said it without rancor, his tone genuine. She had to admit feeling a hint of disappointment that he hadn’t asked her to work for him again.
Then again, she spent practically every off-hour helping him keep the search alive.
And this was better, anyway.
“I like working for the team. Now that we’ve joined with the local EMS, I’m helping dispatch with 911 calls, I’ve put together a training schedule with the volunteer fire department, and Deputy Brooks has been bringing me up to speed on SAR terms, policies, and protocols.”
He got up, walked over to the kitchen. “Do you want another drink?”
Her cell phone rang. “I think this is one of our callbacks,” she said as she picked it up. “Hello?”
“My name is Megan Lefevre, and I have a message from someone named Sierra?”
“That’s me.” She motioned to Ian as she filled Megan in on their search. “So, we were wondering if you might have seen a girl matching that description—blonde hair, possibly wearing a Mercy Falls Mavericks sweatshirt, maybe looking for a ride?”
“Maybe. I remember the blonde hair, but not what she was wearing. We gave her a ride to East Glacier.”
Sierra was on her feet, snapping her fingers at Ian. “I’m going to put you on speaker.”
She pushed the button, lay the cell on the table.
Ian came over, wearing an enigmatic expression. Hope? Disbelief?
“Go on,” Sierra said.
“She was desperate to leave—we actually picked her up on the highway. She was hitching, of all things, and I told my husband that she looked like she might be in trouble, as if she’d been in a fight. She had a bruise on her jaw, a swollen lip. She looked like she’d been crying. It made me worry about her—that’s why we picked her up.”
Sierra had grabbed Ian’s arm. “Do you remember where you took her?”
“Yeah. We bought her something to eat at this little cafe and tried to find out who she was. She said she’d come to the park with her boyfriend, and they got into a fight. My husband wanted to call her parents, but she said she was eighteen and on her own. We finally got her to agree to take the train home. In the end, we gave her some money and dropped her off at the Amtrak.”
Ian had taken Sierra’s hand and was now tightening his grip.
“Is there anything else you can remember? Did she say anything about the fight, or maybe do you remember if she mentioned any names?”
“No. She was quiet, maybe even a little skittish, and—oh yeah, I remember. Some cops came into the cafe, and she suddenly put up her hood, as if she didn’t want them to see her. So yeah, she must have been wearing a sweatshirt. I thought about it later—it made me wonder if she was a runaway. I should have never let her get on that train. I admit, it haunts me.”
“You helped her—thank you for that,” Sierra said, glancing at Ian. “And you did all you could for her. Some people just . . . well, you can’t force them to accept your help.”
“I’ll ask my husband if he remembers anything, and if he does, I’ll call you back.”
“Thank you again.” Sierra hung up and turned to Ian.
He stared at her, and a slow smile crawled up his face.
She matched it.
Then suddenly, his arms were around her, picking her up, whirling her around. “We found her!”
She had no words—too caught up in the sense of being in his arms, crushed to his chest, the air out from under her feet.
He smelled good, and she’d forgotten how strong he was, that aura of power that had always intrigued, delighted her.
“You did this.” He set her down, caught her face in his hands. “You did this, Sierra. We’re going to find her!”
And then, suddenly, he leaned down and kissed her.
Not a quick kiss, either, but something thorough, as if it might be long-awaited.
Shock turned her still; her body froze under his touch.
He tasted sweet, like the soda he’d been drinking, smelled of the soap from his shower, his touch solid as he cradled her face in his hands.
And then she was kissing him back. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. Practically inhaling him, throwing away every bit of hesitation, that old caution that held them apart torn asunder.
More than friends—finally.
He angled his head to deepen his kiss, moved his hands behind her back to pull her closer, a little sound of desire issuing from the back of his throat.
Ian. Her brain could hardly catch up with the feel of his honed body against hers, the sense of this amazing, powerful man letting himself go in her arms.
When he moved away, he seemed to be breathing hard as he searched her face. A smile tipped his lips. “Okay, so I admit I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”
She touched his wrists and he caught her hands, entwined his fingers into hers.
“How long?”
“Five years?” He lifted a shoulder, as if suddenly sheepish. “I didn’t want to be that boss that stalked his beautiful employee.”
Beautiful? And suddenly the fact that he hadn’t rehired her made her want to sing. She could barely speak with the emotions clogging her throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time too.”
He moved his hands behind her back, still holding hers. “Really?” He stepped closer, touched his forehead to hers. “Because I always thought I’d offended you that night . . . when—”
“Hardly.”
“I wasn’t myself.” He leaned down, kissed her neck, and a shiver went down her entire body.
And this was himself? Oh boy. She swallowed as he found her eyes again.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe God is done punishing me.”
He kissed her again, sweetly, and she decided not to correct his theology. As his kiss deepened, she sensed the well of emotion that he’d kept banked for so long.
It occurred to her that was why she never saw a woman on his arm or even overnight, at the house. Because Ian never did anything halfway, and he simply wouldn’t dive in without giving his whole heart.
And he wasn’t the kind of man to give that over easily.
She kissed him back, her own emotions sweeping over her.
It wasn’t until he broke away that she noticed he’d moved them over to the end of the sofa. He sat on the arm, putting his arms around her. She propped her hands on his shoulders, touched his curly dark hair. The lamplight illuminated the strands of amber, a few russet hairs at his temples.
Although he’d shaved, late-afternoon copper whiskers graced his chin. She ran her fingers over them and he grinned, touched her cheek, ran his thumb down it, eliciting a trail of sparks.
“Thank you for not giving up on me—or Esme. Even if I’d hired a PI, he or she would have given up by now. But not you, Sierra. You cared enough to keep looking. Now we just have to get ahold of the Amtrak office, see if we can figure out where she went.”
She frowned, put her hands on his muscled shoulders.
“Ian, I thought you just wanted to make sure she was okay. Alive. We did, and now maybe you need to let this go.”
“I just need to find out where she is, and then I can walk away.”
“But . . .” She ran her hands down his arms, caught his hands. “What if she doesn’t want to be found?”
He frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I just think that maybe she wants to stay lost.”
He stood up, and she backed up to give him room. He let go of her hands. “Why would she want to stay lost?”
“Think about it. Why did she go to the east side of the park, instead of back to Mercy Falls? It looks like she’s running.”
“From what?”
His tone brought her up, and she stiffened.
“I don’t know. Maybe she saw something or was a part of something—you heard what Megan Lefevre said about her weird reaction when the cops came into the cafe. Like she didn’t want to be noticed.”
“Are you saying she did something bad?”
He let go of her hands, walked away from her.
“I didn’t mean she had something to do with Dante’s death, but whatever it was, she didn’t think she could come home. And it sure seems like she doesn’t want to be found.”
He held up a hand, walked away from her. “What if she needs my help? Megan also said it looked like she’d been beat up. I can’t just . . .” He blew out a breath. “I can’t just leave Esme out there alone.”
Sierra schooled her tone, tried to keep it gentle. “Not everyone needs your help, Ian. Or wants it.”
That brought him up short. A muscle tensed in his jaw.
“I know you’ve helped thousands, but—”
“You don’t understand, Sierra.” He rounded on her. “That’s why I’m here, that’s what I do. If I don’t help them, who will?”
She paused then. “God?”
“Oh, please. Really? Listen, I got to where I am today because I didn’t let my mother’s choices keep me from going to school, didn’t let my poverty keep me out of college, didn’t let Katrina destroy me. I helped myself to where I am today. And I can help Esme.”
“Even if she doesn’t want your help?” She didn’t mean for her words to emerge as a challenge. Her heart filled her throat as she stared at him, gauging her words. But she saw his future tunneling out into a fruitless search, the what-if holding him hostage. “You need to let this go.”
Quiet. The room cooled. He walked over to the list on the coffee table, picked it up. Closed the lid on the pizza box. “I’ll find her on my own, Sierra. Thanks for picking this up. You want the leftovers?”
And just like that, she was dismissed. She stared at him, stripped.
He met her gaze, and the emptiness in it brushed down her spine.
She shook her head at the pizza, her eyes burning. “Okay, Ian. You win.” She walked toward the door, grabbed her boots, slid them on. “But despite what you believe, you can’t save everyone. You can’t protect everyone. And you can’t make the world obey you.”
He stood in the glow of the lamplight, the darkness of the window pressing in around him, his eyes dark, his chest rising and falling against her words.
“And you’re a fool to think that you got here on your own. God has had your back every step of the way, and someday you might actually get your ego out of the way enough to see that.”
She put her purse over her shoulder and pulled the door shut behind her.
She made it to her car before she bent into the steering wheel and sobbed.
“What do you mean, you can’t find her?” Ben stared out at the remnants of the crowd from the wings of the stage. He’d expected Kacey to be lingering after the show, had sent Hollie’s new manager to find her. “Did you check with security—maybe she tried to get backstage?”
She wasn’t waiting in the crowd, nor by the door to the stage in back. He’d left two messages on her phone, texted her.
Nothing.
He packed his guitar into its case, disappointment like a fist in his gut.
“Benji, you were ah-mazin’,” Hollie said, putting an arm around his shoulders. She pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Yeah, he just might have given the best concert of his life—mostly because he’d dreamed of exactly this night. Him at the mic, staring down into the crowd, the woman he loved singing along.
He knew Kacey had been there—the minute he took the stage, he looked for her seat, found her standing at the rail, smiling, clapping.
And then the music swept him away. That, and Hollie’s crazy performance. He had never seen her quite so flirtatious on stage, her dance moves just a little too forward, her voice sultry. He’d never really considered the lyrics of his songs—but suddenly they all sounded way too suggestive, especially when he thought about Audrey singing them.
For the first time ever, he felt a little soiled after a gig.
He shut the guitar case, picked it up. “Gotta run.”
“What? No, you have to stick around. I wanted to work on that song I heard you singing during warm-up. What was it?”
Kacey’s song. The one that wouldn’t leave his brain. He’d written nearly the entire thing, just needed an ending, had been reaching for the lyrics in his dressing room with the band, anticipating singing it to Kacey after the concert.
Turn around, listen to your heart
I need you so much, don’t tear me apart
I was wrong, you were right
Nothing between us but this darn fight
And yes, Hollie had come in, humming along as she read fan tweets on her phone, but he didn’t think she’d actually heard him.
“It’s nothing,” he said and shrugged out of Hollie’s embrace. Last thing he needed was her finishing the song and claiming it.
She grabbed his arm. “But what about Billings? The tour? Me?”
“I’m not on tour with you, Hollie. You started this project alone, remember? You’ll have to figure this out on your own.”
The flirty, dangerous look had vanished. Instead, she glared at him. “You can’t leave me.”
“Oh, I think I can.”
“No, you can’t. Because without me, you’re nothing, Ben. You were heading down has-been lane when I came along. And you’ll be right back there when I leave you here in this backwater town.”
“Have a good tour,” he said quietly.
She made a sound of disbelief. “You think you can come back home, fall in love with your high school sweetheart—yeah, I’m not blind. I know exactly who you’re hanging out with. But she’ll never love you the way you need to be loved. The way the music, the fans love you.” She advanced toward him. “Face it, Benji, you gave your heart to the stage long ago, and you’re fooling yourself if you think you can leave it behind.”
He shut the door behind him, his entire body burning with Hollie’s words.
“You gave your heart to the stage long ago, and you’re fooling yourself if you think you can leave it behind.”
He clutched his guitar and strode out of the building to the back parking lot, the cool wind swilling down from the hazy black outline of the mountains. Overhead the stars winked down at him, and he inhaled the sweet scent of pine.
He put his guitar in the truck, then pulled out his cell phone, hoping for a text.
Nothing. He put his truck into drive.
She hadn’t texted by the time he pulled up to her parents’ home. He got out of his truck, wishing he knew which window was hers.
But he wasn’t a high school boy sneaking around anymore.
He walked up to the porch, his heart banging.
Why did you leave?
The words practically breached his mouth even before the door opened, riding on a wave of adrenaline.
His words stopped short at the sight of Judge Fairing in the frame, dressed in his jeans and a flannel shirt, as if he might have been waiting up.
He opened the door. Stepped outside, onto the porch, his jaw tight.
Ben drew in a breath, stepped back.
“What are you doing here, Ben?” the Judge said in his quiet, reasonable voice. The one that had convinced Ben that leaving town was the best possible course.
“Is Kacey here?”
The Judge shook his head. He didn’t elaborate, just met Ben’s eyes with his own, bearing a dark challenge.
Fine. “I love her. I never stopped loving her.”
“That was never in doubt. But the question was—and still is—is that enough? You have a big life, Ben. A superstar life. One that doesn’t have room for Audrey and Kacey. Or are you going to give that up?”
And now it all made sense. “That’s why you invited Hollie to the party, isn’t it? Because you thought by bringing her here, I’d get sucked back into that life.”
The Judge just stared at him.
“Maybe I don’t have to give it up,” he said, surprised at his own words. Because, really, being a performer didn’t mean he couldn’t have a family.
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You don’t see the big picture. Never have.” The Judge shook his head. “You only see what you want. Not what is best for Kacey, or Audrey.”
“I’m what’s best for Kacey and Audrey.”
The Judge tightened his mouth into a grim line, and the disapproval could choke Ben if he let it. Finally, “Go home, Ben. If Kacey has left you, it’s probably because she’s finally come to her senses. If she wanted to see you, she would have told you where she was.”
He closed the door behind him as he went inside, leaving Ben standing on the porch. The lights went off inside the house.
He pressed a hand to his knotted chest as he got back into the truck. He pulled out his cell phone, hoping for a text. Nothing. But he sent another.
I missed U tonight. Sry if I did something wrong. Call me.
She hadn’t texted by the time he pulled up to the ranch house.
“She’s finally come to her senses.”
The swing on the deck called to him with the urge to just sit, watch the starlight glisten on the wet rocks, feel the night air cool on his sweaty skin.
He didn’t hear the door open until he heard the thump of his father’s walker, the click of Jubal’s nails on the porch. He turned, alarmed.
“You’re not supposed to be up walking without supervision.”
Chet ignored him, easing down on the swing next to him. Jubal lumbered down at their feet, put his head on his paws.
His father stared out at the water, the shape of the faraway mountains. He rubbed his chest. “Got a little indigestion, can’t sleep. How was the concert?”
Ben shrugged. “I invited Kacey, but she didn’t stick around.” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but it hitched, betraying him.
Chet nodded.
“I went to her house. Her dad said that . . . he said that I only wanted what was good for me—not her. I do want what’s best for her. But what if it’s not me?”
Chet just sat staring at the sky. “Your mother and I used to come out here at night, especially near the end, and she’d look up to the heavens and reach for my hand. Squeeze it. I used to think she was afraid, but as we got closer to the end, she told me that she wasn’t afraid of dying. Just of leaving me. Anticipation—that’s what that squeeze was. Because once she knew the doctors had done all they could, she set her focus on following her heart home.”
He pointed upward. “She’d long ago given her heart to God for safekeeping. Her hopes, her trust, her dreams—all in his embrace. People think that faith, especially as we face our fears, or hold on to our dreams, is for the weak, the pitiful. People who are afraid or indecisive. But in fact, having faith is the bravest thing we can do. It’s the unwavering confidence that God loves us. That although we can’t see the road ahead, we can see God. A God we know, a God that loves us—so much that he won’t give up on us. Won’t let us get lost, even when we think we are. Real faith takes everything you have—throwing your life, your heart, everything you are with complete abandon into the embrace of God.”
Ben sat in silence next to him, the night shifting around them in the tang of the grasses, the rush of the river. He thought about his mother. The fact that he wished he had her kind of faith.
Maybe he simply wasn’t brave enough to trust God with his and Kacey’s future.
Finally, “You’re supposed to let me help you with your rehab. It’s dangerous for you to be shuffling around on your own—you could fall.”
“I know. I just can’t abide sitting in that chair. And you’re busy.”
“That’s why I’m here. To help. I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to let me step in—”
“Because I’m not weak, and I don’t need help.”
“But you do! Sheesh, Dad, you were in a helicopter crash. You nearly died. And it’s okay to need help—”
“From God, sure. But not from you.”
“Why not?”
Chet looked away, and suddenly the drape of the moonlight etched out his wrinkles and grooves, frailties.
He sighed then. “Because I can’t bear for you to see me as less than I was. I used to be your hero, a soldier, the man who taught you how to rope and herd cattle, to throw a football. When you rescued that hiker, I thought—he learned that from me.”
“I did. You taught me how to survive in the wilderness.”
“But now when I look in your eyes, I see a doddering old man.”
Ben pressed his mouth tight. He wanted to correct him, but the reality of his behavior over the past few weeks reached up for a choke hold.
Yeah, he might have made his dad feel that way.
Chet finally reached out for the walker, eased himself forward, up.
Ben rose, ready to catch him.
Chet found his feet without help, though. Glanced over at him.
“Don’t stay out too long,” his dad said. “It’s getting cold outside.”
He’d been out for so long, he was used to it.
“I’ll be in soon,” he said quietly.