3

“I’ll get you for this, Pyper Marie Brock, if it’s the last thing I do. Same goes for you, Zach. I can’t believe what you guys pulled off tonight!”

Her dad’s decree stirred Pyper’s laughter into a merry twinkle, left her heart to soar as she tucked her arm through his and slipped her free arm around her brother Zach’s waist. “Empty threats, empty threats.”

Post-performance, she danced on air as they exited the stage. A crew followed headlined by triple-platinum inductee of two years ago, Jeff Stockton who tugged Tyler close for a final chest bump and a celebratory hug. Jeff had a jet to catch for a gig in Tulsa, so while farewells were exchanged between the two men, Pyper took note of nearby activity as Chase Bradington made ready to step into the spotlight.

Tyler rejoined her. “I swear, when I saw you tearing up at the end of “True Justice,” when I heard your voice wobble a bit, I knew something was happening, but it wasn’t until we finished, when Jeff strolled on stage, casual as could be, that my knees about buckled, and I almost fell to the floor. I couldn’t believe it. What a night.” Pyper’s mom bounded forward and launched into her dad’s waiting arms. He laughed and spun her in a circle. “I do believe I’ve been ambushed by my family.”

“True enough. We’re kinda brilliant like that.”

“No argument here.”

Her parents’ conversation faded to static once Pyper saw Chase take the stage with a confident, powerful stride, waving and smiling as the emcee performed an introduction.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the Opry is pleased to welcome back to its historic circle two-time Grammy nominee and three-time CMA award recipient Chase Bradington!”

The crowd went wild. Folks pressed against the front lip of the stage and stretched forward, accepting Chase’s high-fives and handshakes. The women in particular seemed bent on out-screaming one another.

Whatever.

He stood before the iconic WSM microphone, a guitar slung against his back for now. “Hey, y’all. It feels real good to be back on stage singing for you, especially here at the Opry.” Applause rang out along with cheers of support. Pyper found it tough to breathe—and even tougher to look away—while she watched him gear up the crowd with a level of energy that was electric. Then there was that gorgeous, sizzling smile…irresistible to some, Pyper thought, but she steeled herself against its power.

Almost.

“I’ve missed you guys more than I can say. Thanks for the welcome home.” Crowd noise distorted everything, amplifying, building, until he calmed matters by simply going still, studying the hallowed circle of oak at his feet and shifting so he could position and strum his guitar. The world faded to a silence that vibrated through the venue.

“As most of you know, I’ve walked through the badlands lately. In fact, you probably can’t read a tabloid these days without mention of my name.” Music built in the form of a smooth, aching ballad. He addressed the house now; his posture struck Pyper as intent—most definitely potent. “All the same, I own my past with all of its blessings and all of its curses. But I also own my future.”

Drawn, Pyper edged closer to the nearby curtain line of the wings.

“I’ve battled tragic circumstances and bad decisions. I’m hoping I can find my way back to what’s good, because moments like this are what I love the most. Nights like this are what I dreamed of while I battled the demons in my soul.

“The song I’m about to share with you is a new one that came to life as a result of my recovery from addiction. It’s called ‘Burning Bridges’.”

The band increased its volume. Pyper’s heart started to thump—hard.

“A lot of times when we think about burning bridges we think about ruined relationships, or circumstances that’ve conspired against us. In this case, ‘Burning Bridges’ is about destroying a bridge that leads us to something bad, and finding a way to transform evil into something good in ways only God can create.”

“You OK, sugar beet?”

Lost to poetic words and high ideals, Pyper jumped when her dad stepped close and wrapped an arm around her waist. Fast as lightning, she lit a smile and laced her fingertips with his. “You bet.”

Her step-dad could never be fooled, though. He tracked the direction of her gaze. “You seem tense.”

“Nah, I’m OK.”

The evasion caused Pyper’s nerve endings to skitter, but then, comfort rode in. The easy, gentle presence of her truest dad always worked on her spirit that way.

Her attention drifted back to Chase Bradington; the song he had crafted was evocative, an ode to heartfelt wishes, to wanting more than life and life-choices had delivered. She listened, captivated as he painted a world of redemption and hope with nothing more than his voice and his words. The song featured a definite country vibe, but remained unapologetically Christian.

The song was pure gold.

“Mr. Brock? I’m Joan Bradley, a hostess here at the Opry.” Jarred once again from the view on stage, Pyper tuned in to more immediate concerns as a lovely woman with short, curly hair and a dynamite smile joined their group. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead the way to the green room.”

Reluctantly, Pyper left Chase Bradington’s music behind. Then, like the answer to a building wave of disquiet, Darren McCree fell in step next to her and delivered a great big smile.

“You did it, Pyp!” Darren kissed her cheek. “Great job.”

“Thank you.” She leaned against him and gave him a quick kiss in return. After a year of sharing space in Tyler’s band, Pyper and Darren moved closer and closer to the crossroads between friendship and romance. “If I looked as shaky as I felt on the inside, I don’t think I’ll want to watch the broadcast when it airs next week.”

“Yes, you will. Trust me, you were fantastic.”

“Gosh—do ya bias much?”

“Yeah. Much.”

He was so warm, so engaging. Even if Darren didn’t set her world on fire, Pyper loved his companionship and affection.

Joan guided their team. “To be honest, I don’t like to refer to the space I’m taking you to as the ‘green room’. For me, that feels way too impersonal and Hollywood. The staff of the Opry would like you to consider this your family room. Make use of it as you wish.”

They entered an expansive area off the right wing. Walls were decorated by legendary performance photos and a wall-sized mural that featured caricatures of the biggest names in the industry. Comfortable seating invited folks to linger within the ebb and flow of service personnel and VIP’s.

“I’ll leave you here,” Joan said, “but again, I want to welcome you to the inductees of the Grand Ole Opry, Mr. Brock. This is your night to take over the premises, and I hope you enjoy every second.”

Visibly absorbing their surroundings, Pyper’s dad acknowledged their hostess. “I already am, ma’am. Thank you again for everything.”

Pyper continued to move in step with Darren like a perfectly synched puzzle piece. This was comfort. This was relationship as it should be—warm, steady and thoroughly compatible. She was blessed, and she knew it.

“You rocked the stage tonight.”

Pyper looked into Darren’s clear, green eyes. She dipped gentle fingertips against the soft fall of an errant wave of his light brown hair.

“I’ve always loved the guitar riffs in ‘True Justice’,” he said. “You and Zach really know how to bring them to life.”

“What a beautiful flatterer you are.”

He kissed her temple, and Pyper closed her eyes, absorbing his touch. She sought passion—heat. She sought connection and a tingle of awakening but instead came upon a solid, ready tenderness.

That was good, and that was enough.

She forced her enthusiasm upward and let Darren lead the way toward a buffet table that bowed beneath a fragrant variety of warm finger foods, an assortment of fresh fruits and veggies, and even a selection of succulent desserts. Pyper crossed the room at his side, but felt a somber chill sweep the length of her arms as her gaze rested upon a thin line of dark wood installed against the far wall. The simple piece leveled at a spot just above Pyper’s waist, a poignant reminder of just how far flood waters had risen within the gorgeous auditorium during the late spring of 2010, destroying everything in its path.

Gliding her fingertips against a section of the trim, Pyper remembered the desperate way she and her family had stuffed sandbags and stacked them as tight as they could, as they’d prayed hard and chased the clock while a nasty deluge caused the Cumberland River to spill over its banks. A destructive crush of water washed through downtown Nashville, toppling history, toppling beauty, but never once toppling the city’s hope and determination to rebuild and overcome.

She surrendered that memory in favor of the rebirth she now enjoyed, smiling at the way God had provided for the town she lovingly and resolutely called home. She focused on Darren.

“Now that my nerves have settled, I’m starving. Are you hungry?”

“Why else do you think I’d be dragging you to the food table?”

He cast a grin, and Pyper laughed at the same instant she heard a familiar voice. “Hey there, superstar!”

As soon as she heard the greeting, Pyper spun from Darren’s hold and squealed like a teenager, landing straight in the middle of a tight hug from her best friend, Anne Lucerne. “Annie!”

A statuesque brunette, Anne had a lovely, heart-shaped face, huge green eyes, and enough energy to fill the entire room. In honor of tonight’s occasion, Pyper’s surrogate sister wore cowgirl attire—right down to a flouncy denim skirt, a white button down shirt and a pair of black leather boots that were showroom fresh.

Issuing a teasing huff, Pyper decided to give Anne the business about that particular fact. “OK, seriously, you need to stay here with me forever so you can break those in. They need some scuff and wear.”

They giggled and hugged all over again, spinning into a timeless dance. “Consider it done. My word, but you’re completely gorgeous. I hate you.”

“Oh, I am not. This face is the result of skilled makeup technicians and nothing more. But what about you? You look like a fashion model with those mile long legs. I’ve always resented that about you.”

Anne struck a dramatic pose. “So true, but you’ve always been an adorable little shorty, so I’ve opted to hang out with you anyway.”

A fresh round of laughter ensued; they talked over each other all over again, forcing their time apart to vanish beneath the history they had shared since childhood.

“Where are your mom and dad?” Pyper asked. “Did they come, too? I hope they made it.”

Her wish was answered when a quick scan of faces revealed Ken and Kiara Lucerne. The pair stood not far away, nearly swallowed within a buzz of afterglow chaos. Ken’s searching gaze lighted on Pyper, and he gave her a nod along with a smile that mirrored Anne’s. He moved their way with his wife in tow.

“Wow.” The cadence of Ken’s deep voice, punctuated by a Midwestern twang straight from Michigan, was a slice of heaven to Pyper’s ears. “Honestly, all I can say is wow.”

Kiara wore a dazzled expression as well. “So, this is how life is lived in the big leagues.”

Pyper fell into a fresh round of hugs and welcomes that filled her heart to overflowing. “It’s the big leagues now that you’re here! I am so glad to see you!”

“We’re honored you included us. What a night for Tyler.” Ken continued to take in the faces and energy of the room. Dressed casually in a polo shirt and jeans, he sported salt-and-pepper hair and remained strong of build, even at close to sixty.

Kiara settled her purse strap on her shoulder and fingered back strands of shoulder-length, honey-colored hair just barely touched with dashes of shimmering silver. Soft green eyes—a replica of Anne’s—danced with happiness. “Speaking of music, I can’t believe the way Tyler’s life—and now yours—has become such a powerful mission field. Pyper, you’re honoring his legacy in ways that are just incredible. I’m amazed at what God brought to life for you all.”

If she didn’t crack a joke, she’d lose it and cry, so Pyper gave her extended family a saucy glance. “Kiara, please, you’re not in Michigan anymore. You’re in Tennessee. It’s not you all, it’s y’all!”

While laughter burst between them like sparkling confetti, Pyper’s mom bounded toward their gathering, letting out a happy exclamation when she caught sight of their visiting dignitaries. “Ken! Kiara! I wondered where you were. I knew you had checked in with the VIP’s, but I didn’t have a chance to connect with you in the theater; I’m so sorry for that.”

Kiara tugged Amy close for a long, tight hug. “You were a little busy, Miss Thing. We loved the performance! Where’s Tyler? I can’t wait to see him!”

Miss Thing—that was the nickname Kiara had given Pyper’s mom decades ago, during a different, tragic season—in a life so different than the one Pyper now knew. Michigan memories, Michigan love, took her under. In a blink, Pyper was five-years-old all over again, battling monsters, battling hate and an innocence-robbing fear—and winning the victory. God’s grace had seen to it that she and her mom circled away from a life marred by abuses both physical and mental.

During the height of battle, Pyper and her mom had found a safe harbor with Ken, Kiara, and Anne. Shortly thereafter, Tyler had entered their lives, and the nightmare ended for good and for all. These were the people who formed a precious framework for Pyper’s heart. The celebratory evening wouldn’t be anywhere near complete without them.

She surrendered her link to the past when her dad joined their group, explaining once again how he had been conned into thinking tonight’s performance was just another routine show at the Opry.

“I don’t know how they pulled it off. There I was, completely unaware, tucked behind the doorway of the Stars and Stripes dressing room, strumming with Zach and chatting with friends like I always do, yet I had no idea what was brewing.”

“Well you deserve the accolades. Oh, man—do you remember the mission trip to Appalachia?” Ever stylish in wide-leg slacks of gray and a hip-length blouse of soft pink lace, Kiara gave Pyper’s dad a grin and a nudge. “The entire trip to and from Pennsylvania was full of you and Amy with your teenage dreams and connections. Even then I knew your love of music would play itself out, Tyler. And I knew, somehow, some way, you and Amy would find your way to each other.”

Tyler didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Rather, he kissed Amy’s lips. Pyper sensed the way her parents lost themselves in one other for a few precious seconds and her heart sighed. That’s what I want. That level of passion. That level of joy. God, please show me that sureness of connection, the spirit-melt that leaves two people in the shape of one.

Hmm. Now those were song lyrics. Definitely. She’d have to jot them down before dropping off to sleep tonight…

Seeming to realize an immediate visit to the food table was placed on hold, Darren joined their circle and more introductions and chat ensued. Meanwhile, Pyper’s mom focused on her friend and mentor, Kiara. “When we visited Michigan a couple months ago, you two had just retired from Woodland Church. How are you and Ken adjusting to the change?”

Updates were exchanged, paired with jokes about Ken never completely retiring from pastoral duties and Kiara not quite relinquishing her involvement in the church’s youth group activities. Pyper stood next to her dad, content to rest against his side and survey the action taking place all around—their nearest and dearest gathered close to savor the moment of a lifetime.

Darren, she noticed, carried on a companionable conversation with Anne, which reminded Pyper she had become totally sidetracked and hadn’t yet snared a bite to eat. She tilted her head, noticing the way easy smiles and a somewhat solitary focus seemed to encircle Darren and her best friend.

When Pyper paused to study them, she wondered why the exclusive focus she sensed inspired threads of happiness rather than seeds of jealousy. The thought had barely struck home when Chase Bradington entered the room and distracted Pyper completely. Fresh from the stage, he sent her senses into a rush.

Honestly. What was with her right now?

Surrounded by an eager entourage, he offered large, warm smiles and strode straight toward the food line. More folks gathered, shook his hand, offering what seemed to be encouraging comments; the overall presence of support earned nods, a few hugs as well as some hearty laughter. Nothing, Pyper supposed, beat the marketing angle of a fallen angel attempting to rise.

Hmmm. A fallen angel attempting to rise. Even more lyrics to memorialize later. She had definitely scored a ten on the inspiration meter tonight.

With her gaze latched onto the iconic singer, Pyper took note of the way folks continued to battle for Chase’s attention. Through it all, he remained visibly composed. No small feat, she figured, since he was just hours out of rehab. In spite of the frenzy, she couldn’t help but admire the view. Chase’s smile was warm and wide; he engaged people in a direct manner and with an energy she absorbed even at a distance.

Mysteriously propelled, Pyper excused herself from her group and prepared to join the food line so she could touch base with her younger brother. Presently, Zach was making his way toward Chase like a wide-eyed groupie.

Darren, along with the rest of the world, faded to black while Pyper moved toward Chase, intent on conducting some reconnaissance and somehow subduing her unexpected reaction to the man.