2

Rain’s a Comin’

Justin Conrad grabbed his cellphone off the amp in his garage and stared at the screen.

No missed calls.

No messages.

No Zoey.

But it was Thursday night. A sacred night. Band practice night. And Zoey hadn’t shown up for the youth devo or practice.

“That Zoey? She finally tell you where she’s been?” Sawyer Mahon asked from the back of Justin’s garage. He sat on a stool behind his drum kit lightly playing a beat. His black-tipped blond spikes and three-quarter-inch gauges fit the drummer image. His skill with sticks earned him the title.

“What?” Justin set down his phone, faking ignorance, and picked up his guitar. No need to admit his missing girlfriend had him distracted. “Just checking the time. We have to quit soon.”

“Right.” Sawyer snorted. “She really didn’t tell you she wasn’t coming?”

“Nope. Probably forgot she had to work or her phone died.” Justin strummed a few chords. He didn’t have to look at Sawyer to know his friend didn’t believe him. They fit in practice around Zoey’s schedule at the ice cream shack and Sawyer’s schedule at the grocery store, but they had an unspoken pact always to meet on Thursdays.

Why hadn’t she answered his texts or called him?

Justin shook away his stupid fears. No reason for her to be mad at him. He hadn’t done anything.

Enough about Zoey. This was band practice. An endless stream of notes played inside his head begging to blend. He struck an F chord, followed by a D minor, and a new melody filled the garage.

He repeated the chords, and Sawyer merged with a simple rhythm. By the fifth round, they’d grown bolder, the guitar and drums blending and soaring out the open garage door into Justin’s sunlit neighborhood. And he soared with it, lightheaded, feeding off the adrenaline.

Lifting his head, he caught Sawyer’s eye. Sawyer gave a tiny nod. Time to finish big.

Justin stood, slamming down on the final chord as Sawyer crashed the cymbals.

Nothing sounded better than a new song. Even a less-than-great new song.

“What do you think?” Justin sat back down cradling his guitar.

“Gold star.” Sawyer raised his voice over his new beat. If he was sitting behind his drums, they weren’t silent for a second.

Justin started his song again, playing alone, committing the chords to memory as he struggled to catch hold of lyrics that fit.

The sound of a car engine interrupted his thoughts, and a few seconds later, Mom’s minivan pulled into the driveway. She stepped out.

Justin’s fist tightened around the guitar’s neck, the strings biting into his fingers. It was late. Maybe not late-late, but she was a mom and married, even if her skinny jeans and red top didn’t scream married-mother-of-three.

“It’s almost ten. You’re about finished tonight, right?” It sounded as if she wasn’t asking.

“Yes, ma’am,” Justin said.

“Thank you.” She flashed a smile, but Justin couldn’t tell if her smile was too happy for someone who’d been hanging out with a girl friend.

Mom went into the house, and Justin unplugged his guitar from the amp and put it on the stand. His acoustic occupied another slot, but the third was empty. The space echoed the hollow feeling in his chest. Zoey kept her bass there after practice.

He twisted his guitar pick between his fingers. Zoey wasn’t his mom, and he wasn’t his dad. She had no reason to lie or keep secrets or cheat on him.

He glanced at Sawyer. “Want a ride home?”

“Got my bike.” Sawyer jabbed a stick towards the dull red bike in the grass.

“Stick it in the back of my car.”

“Gonna check on Zoey, aren’t you?” His accusing tone was as flat as an out-of-tune guitar.

“Maybe.”

“She shouldn’t have missed practice. Not without saying something.”

“You want a ride or not?”

“Nothing’s more important than practice.”

“Let it go, man.” Justin laughed despite the tightening of his gut. He didn’t share Sawyer’s better-be-in-the-hospital-on-life-support attitude toward missing practice. But Zoey almost did. “You coming with me?”

“Fine.”

“I’ll go tell my parents.” Justin pulled his keys from his pocket and tossed them across the garage. They clanged into Sawyer’s hand.

“You mean get their permission.”

Justin ignored the insult and headed into the house. His friends only needed to tell their parents where they were going; Justin needed approval. But that’s how it had always been, so he shrugged it off and trudged up the stairs.

Justin’s family was hanging out in the family room, minus three-year-old Tristan. Savannah was reading, curled up in an armchair. Mom was on the couch next to Dad. A good sign, but Justin mentally measured the distance between them. About one ruler-length. Too close? Too far? They were parents, so kind of old, but if they were still in love...

“Time for bed, Savannah,” Mom said.

“It’s not fair.” Justin’s ten-year-old sister tumbled off a chair. “It’s not dark out. Why can’t I stay up like Justin?”

Be quiet, Savannah. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten stuck at home because his little sister had scored sympathy points. Forget about him being nine years older than Savannah.

“You don’t have to sleep.” Mom’s voice had a tired, compromising tone that indicated she wanted to sleep. “You can read in bed.”

Savannah stomped past Justin.

“Can I give Sawyer a ride home and stop by Zoey’s?” Justin asked.

Dad glanced at his watch. “It’s a little late.”

“I’ll be back by midnight.”

Dad’s mouth twisted to one side in a half-frown. Why did he have to act like the question was difficult? “All right. But make sure you’re home on time.”

“I will.” Justin hurried back down the stairs. When had he ever broken curfew? Never.

Maybe it was his choice of friends that made his parents strict. He and Sawyer had been friends since kindergarten, but Sawyer looked like a rule breaker with the silver barbell in his eyebrow and the gauges in his ears. Sawyer’s mom only had three rules: Sawyer had to let her know where he was, he had to graduate from high school, and no getting a tattoo. They argued about the tattoo regularly.

If Justin ever mentioned a tattoo to his parents, he’d be grounded until he graduated from college.

He crossed the yard to his car and slid into the driver’s seat. The car speakers blasted Christian heavy metal from Sawyer’s phone.

“Took you long enough,” Sawyer said.

Without bothering to answer, Justin squinted at Alaska’s midnight sun, slipped on his sunglasses, and drove toward Sawyer’s house.

He dropped off Sawyer, switched the music to his own playlist—a mixture of Christian pop and rock—and drove to Zoey’s house. He parked in the driveway behind Zoey and Livvy’s green car and stared at the split-level, flipping a black guitar pick back and forth through his fingers.

His insides felt like a loose guitar string vibrating wrong. But he had nothing to worry about. She’d have a good explanation for not telling him about missing practice or answering his texts. He’d only sent three, so she’d know he cared but wouldn’t feel smothered. Because all his parents’ books on relationships said that was important.

Be caring, not controlling.

Be interested, not indifferent.

Justin wouldn’t make his dad’s mistakes. He marched up the front steps and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

“Justin, hi.” Livvy’s voice swung up in a question. Probably because of how late it was. Everyone knew about his curfew.

“Hey. Is Zoey home?”

“Yeah. Come in. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

“Thanks.” He crossed the shoe-littered, Arctic entry and took the stairs down to the Harris’s family room. Zoey and Livvy’s gray-striped cat, Tiger, streaked past him, running the opposite direction—up the stairs.

He settled on the overstuffed couch. The furniture in Zoey’s house reminded him of their practice space—worn and comfortable. Next to his garage, this was his favorite hangout. Of course, here it smelled better, like vanilla and cinnamon.

Zoey clattered down the stairs and around the corner, her purple-streaked black hair hanging loose down her back. One look at her brown eyes, dulled with something like worry, and he choked on a smile.

“Hey, you weren’t at the devo tonight or practice.” He tried not to sound accusing.

“Yeah.” She wound her necklace around her finger and unwound it. “Um, I have something to tell you.”

“OK.” His heart thudded crushing the air from his lungs. Had she been avoiding him? Because right now, she definitely avoided meeting his gaze. Maybe he’d rather not know.

“Tonight, I was, um...” She stared at the floor.

Had she been out with someone else? Was she breaking up with him?

Her head popped up, and she stared him square in the eye. “I was practicing with another band.”

His heart stopped as if it had been unplugged. “You’ve joined another band?”

“Yeah. Aurora Fire. I met them last night at a karaoke thing at the Downstairs Coffeehouse.” The words tumbled out of Zoey’s mouth like a guitar solo played too fast.

Justin stared at her.

“Their lead singer left for the summer, so they need someone to fill in. They liked my voice and asked me to practice with them tonight.” She paused to catch her breath, her eyes wide and unblinking, pleading for him to share her excitement.

What was he supposed to say? He slid his hand into his pocket and dug the edges of his pick into his calloused fingers. She was leaving him for another band.

Not him exactly, but him and Sawyer.

“I’m so sorry.” The pleading was now in her voice. “I know I should’ve told you right away, but I didn’t know how. It’s only for the summer, though, and this is a really good opportunity for me. They’ve already got several gigs lined up.”

Her words crawled inside him like poison. Death. Killing him. He couldn’t lose her. And refusing her the freedom to sing with Aurora Fire would be the quickest way to lose her. So Justin forced down the argument swelling inside him. “Several gigs, huh? That does sound good.”

“I know, right?” She almost smiled but held it back as if she didn’t quite believe Justin’s sincerity.

But he was doing everything right, wasn’t he? Maybe he needed to be more enthusiastic.

“I think it will be good for you, and Sawyer too, after the summer,” Zoey continued. “If people like my singing, then they might want to hear us when I’m back with you guys.”

“If people like you?” He took Zoey’s hand and entwined his fingers with hers.

She didn’t pull away, but she didn’t tighten her fingers around his either.

“Of course, they’ll like you.” Was he really giving her a pep talk to encourage her to leave their band? “And just because you’re playing with them doesn’t mean you can’t play with us too.”

“I’ll be practicing with them a lot to learn their music, and I’ll need to rest my voice in between. But I can still play bass with you guys.”

Learn their music… rest my voice…She’d be singing someone else’s songs.

“And there’s one more thing. Their first gig is two weeks from Saturday, and I know we were supposed to play for the youth group that night...” The hesitance returned to her voice.

“Hey, no problem.” Justin forced the words past his dry throat. “Sawyer and I will figure something out.”

“So you’re really OK with this?”

No, don’t do it. He stared at their clasped hands and then looked up fighting the urge to squash her hopefulness. “Yeah. It sounds really good for you.”

“I should’ve realized you’d be happy for me.” Zoey smiled and took two steps closer.

“Of course I am.” He’d act happy about anything if it made her smile as if he was her hero. “Besides, maybe it’s part of God’s plan for your music career.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Her happiness dimmed as if she didn’t believe him. Or in God’s plan.

“Tell me about Aurora Fire.” Justin dropped onto the couch, pulling Zoey down too.

She settled next to him and told him about this other band’s music, the house they shared, the guys.

Justin forced a grin and willed himself to hide his fears.

Please, Lord, make me happy for her.