Brian was hunched over, staring at his clasped hands. “We said our relationship would be different from others we knew, that we’d stay pure. I don’t know, maybe because we were at my house . . . I guess I felt like I should’ve done more to stop us from getting carried away.” He looked up at her. “I was really weighed down by it . . .”
“Then I told you I was pregnant.”
“And my world just flipped,” Brian said. “Totally flipped.”
“And mine didn’t?”
He lowered his head. “I know.”
“As devastated as I was, the thing that held me together was believing you loved me.”
He reached for her hand, emotion filling his brown eyes. “I did love you.”
Kelli took her hand back and held herself. “Love could never have said the things you said. You accused me of sleeping with someone else.”
“I didn’t accuse you.” He looked frustrated. “I was asking . . . but I knew even as I asked you, it was wrong. I was scared out of my mind, Kel. We’d only slept together once, and I couldn’t understand why God would punish us like that, for one mistake. I felt like I’d ruined my life and yours. I was weak and looking for a way to run from it all.”
“And that’s exactly what you did.”
Silence blanketed the room again.
Kelli stared down at him. “So that’s your why?” she asked finally. “You were scared and weak? So was I, and I had to deal with it by myself.”
Tears fell from his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Kelli.”
“I wanted us to keep that baby, our baby”—Kelli started weeping—“and I asked you if we could. And you were so cold . . .” She sank to the floor, overcome with the pain of her own decision. “And I was so scared and weak that I . . .”
Brian moved from the edge of the bed to the floor, their shoulders touching, and wept with her.
“I should’ve been there for you and for our baby,” he said, his head hung low. “I was more than scared and weak. I was selfish, thinking about myself and my future, thinking about everything my grandmother had instilled in me and hoped for me. I betrayed everything I believed in.” He paused. “I even betrayed everything I’d ever thought about my mother.”
Kelli looked at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“She got pregnant at seventeen and never really got her life together. You know I had little respect for her, the way she left me in Grandma’s care and did whatever she wanted. But after what I did, it hit me—at least she gave me a chance at life.” Brian looked shaken. “I’ve asked God a thousand times to forgive me. And I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me, but”—he looked at her— “I’ve never stopped thinking about you, Kelli. I miss our friendship. I miss talking to you. I miss you.”
Kelli met his gaze. She could almost believe he was sincere. And for a strange, fleeting second, she wanted to forgive him, walk with him through the pain that remained. But every time she thought of that day . . .
She came to her feet, picked her purse up from the floor, and shouldered it. “When I needed you most, Brian, you walked away. I’ve never felt pain like that in my life. I could never trust you again, not even as a friend.” She turned to leave, then paused and turned back. “I know we’ll probably run into one another. We’re in the same city, at the same church. But I’d appreciate it if we didn’t speak. It’ll just be better that way.”
Brian’s jaw tightened as he stared into the distance. He nodded.
Kelli headed for the door.
“Kelli?”
She looked at him.
“I’m glad you’re at the conference. So, you’re still writing?”
“I’m only here because my sisters-in-law encouraged me to come. The last time I wrote a song . . .” It came again, the sadness. “Last time I wrote a song was the night before you left me.”
She opened the door and walked out.
ten
HEATHER SAT IN THE LOBBY AREA, WAITING FOR THE workshop to end. She would’ve been on the road to St. Louis already, had Logan not texted her.
YOU OK? the text said.
She hadn’t been till she saw those words. Someone cared. Logan cared. She knew it was just his nature to minister, to be there for people. But it seemed between last night and now he had become a friend or, as he put it, a big brother in Christ. She’d teased him at breakfast this morning that he was good at his job, asking more than once how she was doing, whether she was rested enough to drive home, and whether he could pray with her. She’d told him what had happened the night before, and he knew Ace’s comments in the workshop must’ve upset her.
Heather had texted back. I’M OK. LEAVING INDY NOW RATHER THAN LATER.
Another message came. WAIT TIL WKSHP ENDS. MEET ME IN LOBBY.
She’d waited, all the while chastising herself. Why had she gone to that workshop? She knew Ace would be there, but Logan had said he could do what Ace had promised—introduce her to some recording artists. She would meet Monica and others after the panel discussion. But instead, the only thing that happened— again—was she got her feelings hurt. She just wanted to go home and get away from everything related to music.
Her eyes followed a woman getting off the elevator, the one who’d been sitting with Cyd and Stephanie. She didn’t know her name, but she remembered her from Stephanie’s wedding. Old habit. She always took note of beautiful women, to size up the competition in any given place. But now she took note for a different reason. The woman looked upset, and Heather felt a little sorry for her, surprising herself. Since when did she care about another woman’s problems?
Ah, finally. Logan approached from another direction with a smattering of conference attendees, Cyd among them. She and Logan had their heads together, but when Cyd saw the woman, she went to her. They headed back up the elevator.
Heather rose from her chair to meet Logan. “Hey. You didn’t have to do the make-sure-Heather’s-all-right thing. I’ll be fine.”
“Actually, I didn’t ask you to wait to check on you—but I’m glad to hear you’ll be fine. I’m on a different big brother mission.” His smile held a hint of intrigue. “I was thinking it would be awesome if someone could disciple you, teach you how to study the Bible, pray with you, that kind of thing. Are there any women in your life who could do that?”
Heather gave a blank stare. “The people I know wondered why I went to church.”
“Okay, so . . . no?”
“No.”
“Good! I mean, not good, but I’m glad I’m on the right track. I asked Cyd if she’d be willing to disciple you.”
Heather’s eyes got wide. “You have no idea how wrong a track you’re on. Cyd hates me.”
Logan looked perplexed. “Why would you say that?”
“Did she say she’d do it?”
“She said she’d pray about it.”
“See!”
“What’s to see? Discipling someone is a big time commitment; I can see why she’d want to pray about it. Why do you think she hates you?”
Heather sighed and looked away. He obviously didn’t know. She looked at him. “Logan, I’m the one Scott had the affair with.”
Logan stared at her a few seconds, then looked away.
Heather sat back down. She’d thought she could avoid telling him, but there it was, out in the open. What must he think of her now? Ace was one thing, but a married man? Sadness welled up again. She’d already begun to like the thought of Logan as her big brother.
He sat beside her, elbows on his thighs. “I’m trying to figure out how I missed it,” he said. “I remember the two of you staying after rehearsal to practice duets, but I never put it together, not even when Scott confessed.”
“Well, Cyd didn’t have to put it together. She was with Dana when we got caught.”
His eyes said it all.
“I’m the last person Cyd would want to help. She doesn’t even speak to me. And frankly, I wouldn’t blame you if you stopped talking to me,
now that you know.”
A tenderness entered his eyes. “So I’m supposed to think you’re the worst person on earth? This might be a shocker, but there were two of you involved, and I actually still talk to Scott. Cyd does too.”
“Scott’s different. He was always a good guy. Everybody likes him. Me? Not so much.”
“That was the old Heather.”
Old Heather? Was there a new? She’d just committed her life to Jesus last night. Couldn’t have changed that fast.
“Well,” she said, “you’re probably the only one who’d see it that way. Cyd sure won’t.”
“I’ll be honest, Heather. I’m sure it’s hard for Cyd to look past what happened. Dana’s her best friend; you were the other woman. But knowing this, I’m even more encouraged by her response. She could’ve said no the moment I asked. I’m impressed that she’s praying about it.” He paused. “But how would you feel about learning from Cyd?”
“I don’t know,” Heather said. “It’s kind of wild, given the circumstances. But she used to lead the singles’ Bible study, and I heard she was a good teacher. And before . . . you know . . . she always made a point of speaking to me. I think I’d be open to it, if she’s willing. That’s a big if.”
“I’ll be praying,” Logan said, getting to his feet. “I’m on the next panel, and break’s almost over. You heading back?”
Heather nodded, standing also. “Thanks for everything, Logan.”
“No problem.” He gave her a quick hug. “Text to let me know you got home safely.”
She nodded and watched him leave, certain she’d spend the entire drive home trying to understand all that had unfolded in the last twenty-four hours. She wasn’t sure she ever would.
eleven
KELLI WAS READY TO GO HOME. FOR THE LAST THIRTY minutes she’d been curled in a fetal position on the bed, paralyzed all over again as she replayed the past, wishing she could go back and change it.
She’d known exactly what she was doing. Even as she’d lain there in that sterile room, shivering, afraid, alone, there were no illusions. She was there to dispense with the baby she and Brian had conceived . . . and with it, all vestiges of their relationship. She’d stared down the decision for three weeks. Could she go through with having the baby, knowing Brian didn’t want him or her? Could she change her entire life plan? How would she tell her mother, Cedric, and Lindell?
Every day the pain grew greater. She’d loved Brian for almost four years—the first two as purely her best friend—and he’d left her . . . while part of him remained. She couldn’t bear it. She needed all of it to go away—the problem, the pain, the memories.
She phoned a girlfriend from school to take her, an acquaintance really, one who wouldn’t ask many questions. And she cried for days afterward, ashamed, pleading forgiveness, but asking herself why God should do it. Why would He forgive her when she knew better? It hadn’t taken her long to realize she had been under an illusion. The pain and the memories would never go away.
Cyd sat beside her on the bed, stroking her back. “Kelli, I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. What did Brian say? Did he hurt you?”
Kelli sniffed. “Actually, he apologized for the past. But it only dredged everything back to the surface.”
“Will it help to talk about it?”
“No.” She’d never told anyone about the abortion. “I can’t, Cyd.”
“Just know I’m here if you ever feel the need—”
The card key slid into the lock and the door opened. “Hey! Are y’all in here?”
“We’re here, Steph,” Cyd called.
Stephanie let the door slam. “Well, why haven’t you answered? I’ve been calling and texting and—” She stopped when she saw them. “What’s wrong?”
“Kelli talked with Brian. Brought up old memories.”
“Really?” Stephanie joined them on the bed. “I thought it was a puppy love thing, but you two must’ve been serious. I guess I should’ve known. He sure seemed like he’d do anything for you.”
Kelli lifted her head and looked at Stephanie. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s why I’ve been trying to reach you two.” Stephanie plopped on the bed. “After the panel, I stood in line to talk to Monica. When it was my turn, I raved about you, said you found out about the conference late, didn’t have time to submit a demo, and asked if she’d be willing to listen to you sing a couple of your songs.”
“She said yes?” Cyd asked.
“No. She gave me that look—like I hear this all the time—and politely blew me off. But that’s when God showed up. I told y’all to believe. I am all about believing all things are possible now. I admit, I might’ve doubted a lit—”
“Steph.” Cyd gave her a look. “What happened?”
“Okay, okay. Brian came into the room again to talk to Rita. I introduced myself, told him I was Kelli’s sister-in-law, what we were trying to do with her music, how Monica had declined—”
Kelli sat all the way up. “You didn’t.”
“Girl, yes, I did. And we just hit it off. I mean, sorry, sounds like you’ve got issues with him, but he is such a nice guy. So get this . . .” Stephanie shifted. “He said he wants your music heard more than anything. He went over, talked to Monica, came back, and said she’d listen. Can you believe it?”
Cyd’s mouth dropped. “That’s incredible. So what now?”
“Monica said we could meet in twenty minutes, which was ten minutes ago. Kelli, this is the chance of a lifetime. I’m so excited for you.”
Kelli blew her nose. “I can’t meet Monica in ten minutes. I don’t even know if I want to. I’m not in the mood to sing.” She curled back into her ball. “I just want to go home.”
“Uh-uh.” Stephanie pulled her back up by the arm. “I’m all for a good pity party, but now ain’t the time. Remember our prayer in the pancake house? We asked God if He had plans for your music. We said show us if the door is open or closed. Right now, it’s still open. We can at least see what she says.”
Stephanie was right. Kelli had agreed to let God direct. She didn’t want to retreat again. But . . . “I won’t do it if Brian’s there,” she said.
“Brian left. He’s on his way back to St. Louis.”
Kelli sighed. At least the timing was good. Nothing Monica said could make her feel any worse. So what if her songs stank? There were much deeper things on her heart right now.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “That’s what we’re here for. As my brother would say, ‘Let’s do this.’”
Stephanie tried to look sympathetic. “Except he’d have a tad more enthusiasm.”
KELLI CLUTCHED HER OLD STENO PAD FILLED WITH songs as she, Cyd, and Stephanie walked into the ballroom. It was empty, with chandeliers overhead and tables pushed to the sides. Suddenly it hit her. Monica Styles would be listening to songs she’d written as a teenager, and she would pass judgment. Maybe Kelli couldn’t feel any worse, but she sure felt stupid. She hadn’t read any how-to handbooks before she’d written those songs. Hadn’t been to a conference like this. She was just a young girl writing what was on her heart. An amateur. Maybe Monica would spare her by not laughing in her face.
“Let’s pray real quick,” Cyd said.
The three moved closer and grabbed hands.
“Father,” Cyd began, “this is all about You and Your plans and purposes. Not Monica’s and not even Kelli’s. We’re believing that You’ve given Kelli these songs, and we pray You will do exceeding abundantly with them, beyond what we could ask or think. Do it for Your glory, O God. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Kelli exhaled as the door opened. A woman stepped in and held the door for Monica, who was on her cell phone.
The woman walked over to them, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Laura, Monica’s assistant.”
The women introduced themselves, and they made small talk until Monica ended her call.
“Hey! How are y’all?” Monica asked, walki
ng over to them.
They went to shake her hand, but Monica hugged them instead. “Good to meet you.” She wore a big smile. “So y’all go way back with Brian, huh? Any friend of Brian is a friend of mine.”
Kelli wasn’t sure what to say, so she just smiled.
Stephanie stepped in. “Actually, Kelli’s the one who’s known Brian a long time. She’s the songwriter I was telling you about.”
“I know I sounded skeptical when you told me,” Monica said. “Everybody knows a dope songwriter. But when Brian said she was dope, I had to listen. You might have the song I need!”
Kelli swallowed hard.
Monica was looking around. “Oh, good, there’s the piano.” She looked at Kelli. “Brian said you play.”
“Cool,” Kelli said. “I thought I’d have to sing a cappella.”
“We know your time is limited,” Stephanie said, “so maybe we should get started.” She led the group to the piano. “How many songs would you like to hear?”
“Two or three are all I have time for.” Monica paused to read a text message, then lowered the phone. “And let me warn you, I’m blunt by nature, which I try to temper by grace.” She put a hand to Kelli’s shoulder. “If I don’t like it, I’ll tell you.”
Kelli’s heart pounded.
“Perfect,” Stephanie said. “We want the straight-up truth.” She looked at Kelli. “Ready?”
Kelli lifted the lid and sat at the piano, propping her steno pad on the stand. She’d skimmed through it before they left the room and chosen a few favorites. She was pretty sure she remembered how to play them—kind of like riding a bike. She was also pretty sure she remembered the words, but she wanted the pad in case her brain froze.
She went with a lively song first, one she called “Praise Him.”
Monica leaned against the piano, nodding her head. In no time she’d caught on to the lyrics and began singing along. But about two-thirds of the way through, she raised her hand for Kelli to stop.
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