“And nobody,” Dana said. “Scott, we have to go.”
“Wait a minute, Dana,” Cyd said.
Kelli whispered to Heather, and they continued on.
“Kids, let’s check out the new stuff in the Apple store,” Scott said. “Dana, meet us over there.”
Dana didn’t comment. The pointed stare was now directed at Cyd.
“I can’t believe you said that, Dana, and in front of Mackenzie. That was uncalled for.”
“Great. Now you and Scott can take up for poor Heather. Fun night out for the girls?”
Cyd sighed, trying to find the right words. “I really don’t want this to be a source of tension between us. You’re my best friend, and I love you. But does that mean I have to hate Heather?”
“You’re hanging with her in the mall.”
“We just came to get something to eat after our Bible study.”
“Don’t you think that’s going beyond the call of duty? I can’t even tell you how this makes me feel.”
“Dana, I know how you feel. I do. But she’s not the person she once was.” Their earlier lesson came to mind. “There comes a time when you just have to . . . you just have to forgive.”
Dana’s face said the suggestion was ludicrous. “I’ve got to go, Cyd. I’ll talk to you later.”
Cyd let out a breath as she went to catch up with Kelli and Heather. Why did God put her in the middle? Why did they have to run into Dana and Scott? Would she lose a friendship of almost thirty years because of this?
Lord, please, somehow . . . touch Dana’s heart. Give her eyes to see Heather as You see her. As hard as it might be, help her to forgive Heather, for her own peace of mind.
Kelli came to Cyd the moment she entered the music store. “Heather has barely said two words. I know she brought all this on herself, but I can’t help but feel bad for her.” She looked over at Heather, who was standing by a selection of oldies, her head down. “Don’t you think Dana was kind of mean?”
“Kelli, I will never forget the pain and devastation Dana felt when she discovered Heather in her bed. If I were in Dana’s shoes, I probably would’ve done the same—or worse—if I ran into Heather.” Cyd glanced over at her again. “The funny thing about forgiveness is that God is much freer with it than humans are.”
She looked at Kelli. “Think about it. You feel bad for Heather, and you think Dana should’ve treated her differently. But how have you treated Brian? Have you forgiven him?”
fifteen
KELLI THOUGHT ABOUT CYD’S QUESTION ALL THROUGH dinner and on the way back to the house. Not that she didn’t know the answer—but for the first time, the answer was starting to bother her . . . especially after an afternoon with Heather marveling at how freely God had forgiven them. It was basic, but it hit her between the eyes nonetheless—Brian deserved forgiveness too.
They parked and waved good-bye to Heather as she got in her car and took off. On the way inside, Kelli’s phone rang. A wireless number she didn’t recognize.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hi, Kel.”
Her breath caught. Why, after all these years, did he still have an effect on her? “How did you get my number?”
“I’m not supposed to tell.”
“Stephanie.”
“When she returned my laptop Monday, she asked if there was any way she could repay me. Don’t be too mad at her.”
“I’m not mad at her. But I’m wondering why you decided to call, since I told you not to speak if you see me.”
“You gonna hang up on me?”
Kelli watched the branches sway in the gentle evening breeze. She hated how well Brian knew her. If she was planning to hang up, she would’ve done it already. She sighed into the phone. “Just tell me why you called, Brian.”
“I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Monica.”
“Stephanie told you?”
“No.” Brian paused. “Monica and I are good friends. She told me.”
“Well. Thank you anyway for letting me use the laptop.” Her tone didn’t exactly sound thankful.
“I was glad to do it.”
“So that’s why you called?”
“Actually, no. I need to talk to you about something. Would you be willing to come to the studio? I can pick you up.”
“Brian, seriously . . . first a phone call, and now you think I would go somewhere with you? Why are you acting like we’re cool?”
“I know we’re not cool, Kelli. I know you hate me. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. It has to do with my album.”
“I know you hate me.”
Kelli remembered her thoughts just before her phone rang. The forgiveness thing. Only, she didn’t feel like forgiving him. Having an attitude with Brian had become second nature.
Darkness was settling in. She looked at her watch. Almost eight thirty. “Where’s the studio?”
“In my house.”
“Your house?”
“I set it up in the basement. I promise I won’t keep you long.”
“Why can’t you just tell me what it’s about?”
“I need to tell you in person. It’s something that’s been on my heart for the last four days, and I can’t shake it.”
Kelli was frustrated with herself for even considering it. His album isn’t your concern. Tell him no and be done with it.
If he had called any other day, that would’ve been easy. But after that Bible study . . . plus, she had to admit she was curious. Whatever the reason, something in her wouldn’t let her dismiss this. “I can’t stay long,” she said finally, “and I can drive myself.”
“That’s fine, but I’m right around the corner at Home Depot picking up mulch and other yard stuff for Grandma. I could scoop you up and bring you back, no problem.”
Ugh. “Fine, Brian.”
“Thanks, Kel. Be there in fifteen.”
A MILLION MEMORIES FLOODED KELLI’S MIND AS SHE opened Brian’s car door and got in. How many times had he rolled by her house to pick her up? She remembered the day his great-uncle gave him a car, a hand-me-down with more than 150,000 miles and a good amount of rust, but Brian was thrilled. He drove straight to Kelli’s, and they celebrated with a trip to the Science Center, chatting nonstop as always.
Now he drove an SUV, and instead of easy conversation, she wasn’t sure what her first words would be.
He backed out of the driveway, glancing at her. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Her eyes dusted him, then moved out the window.
He drove slowly down the street, peering at the houses. “Remember we used to wonder who actually lived over here?”
Kelli took a good look around herself, remembering what it was like to ride the school bus through the neighborhood. “We thought they must be millionaires.”
“With no problems.”
“Yeah,” Kelli said. “I’ll have to ask Cedric and Cyd if that’s true.”
Brian turned onto Clayton Road. “So how do you like being back in the Lou?”
Kelli shrugged, her honest answer. “I’m sure it’ll start looking up when I find a job.”
“Doing what? What’s your field?”
Weird. They didn’t know even basic information about each other anymore.
“Public relations and communications. Best-case scenario, I’ll be able to work on behalf of organizations whose mission and message I can get excited about promoting.”
“Sounds perfect. You’ll be really good at that.”
She nursed her own question, not wanting to show interest in his life, but she couldn’t resist. “Never would’ve guessed you’d be rapping. How did it happen?”
“Long story.” Brian’s expression changed as he reflected. “What I did to you . . . to us . . . to the baby”—he blew out a sigh—“it haunted me for weeks when I went away to college. I had nightmares where I would call you and say, ‘Kelli, stop, I changed my mind. Don’t do it!’ Then I would see this empty cot in a clinic and no one in sight. Shook me so bad one nig
ht I got out of bed and on my knees. I said, ‘God, I can’t live with this. And yet I can’t make it right. I can’t bring that little life back.’”
His emotions filled even now, and Kelli watched as he took a few moments, staring at the highway.
“‘But I can give You my life.’ That’s what I said. Just told God to take my life and do whatever He wanted with it.” He gestured with his free hand. “Fast-forward to sophomore year. I was going to this campus Bible study, and a couple of the guys who led it were big into Christian rap, even had a ministry at the local jail where they would share the Gospel in rap form.” He glanced at Kelli. “You might know them. They’re pretty big now—TruLife and AFG.”
Kelli gave a blank stare. “AFG?”
“All for God.”
“Never heard of them.”
“Really? Those are my boys.” He took the familiar exit that led to his house. “They took me under their wings and mentored me. Meanwhile, God started giving me rhymes, out of the blue it seemed. When I shared them, the guys encouraged me. The next year, they gave me a feature on their albums and let me tour with them a little over the summer. One thing led to another, and I got my own deal.”
“That’s incredible, Brian. Looks like you’re pretty big yourself.” She might as well admit it. “I looked you up on Facebook, and you’ve got almost forty thousand fans.”
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” He paused. “I thought I’d spend my life working alone in a lab . . . which still might be the case. I’m confused about what God wants me to do. Haven’t made any headway on this new album.”
“I heard they prayed for you on Sunday.”
He nodded. “Your family’s awesome. God might be finally answering. That’s why I needed to talk to you.”
How she could possibly help? Did he want her to come up with some rhymes?
When he drove down his street—always busy with folk sitting in front of their homes or on the corner, though usually peaceful— it struck Kelli that she’d never had a chance to talk to him about his mother.
“Brian, I didn’t come back when your mother died this spring. My mother told me, but to be honest, I let all the stuff between us get in the way of paying my respects to her. I’m sorry.”
He pulled up in front of his house. “I didn’t expect you to come, Kel.”
“What happened to the drunk driver?”
“He was her boyfriend. They arrested him, but who knows if he’ll actually do time.” He gazed downward. “At least she died instantly.”
“That had to be hard.” She’d thought that a lot when they were younger, that Brian’s life was hard, with his mother on and off drugs, in and out of work. Kelli’s home had always been stable. Even after her father died from prostate cancer when she was young, her mother worked to maintain a strong sense of family, which Brian glommed on to. He was always welcome in their home and often said if it wasn’t for his grandmother and Kelli’s family, he didn’t know what he would do.
He looked briefly at Kelli, then back to the steering wheel. “You know how much I went through with her. But she was still my mom, you know?”
Kelli’s head filled with memories as she walked into Brian’s childhood home. The sofa and chairs in the living room, the paintings on the wall. The green magic marker stain on the carpet that Brian affixed on purpose. She warned him it wouldn’t come out with his homemade mix of chemicals, but he did it anyway and got into big trouble.
Her eyes drifted to the stairs. She could picture the two of them walking up to his bedroom while his grandmother was at work, carried away by the moment . . .
“Lord, have mercy . . . I know that’s not Kelli London.”
Kelli looked toward the kitchen where Brian’s grandmother was standing in the doorway, a hand to her hip, looking spry in jogging pants. A huge heart smile came onto Kelli’s face.
“Grandma Howard, it’s so good to see you!” She went to hug her.
Grandma Howard stepped back, hands to Kelli’s shoulders, and looked upward. “Thank You, Jesus.”
Kelli looked over at Brian, then back to Grandma Howard with curious eyes.
“Ever since this boy graduated college and came back home, I been wondering about him. He so busy it’s hard to see, but I know my Brian. He ain’t the same as when the two of you were running around here.”
Brian gave her a look. “Grandma, what are you talking about? I’m not supposed to be the same. I was a teenager back then.”
She addressed Kelli rather than Brian. “I’m tellin’ you, something’s missing. The boy is lonely.”
“Grandma!”
She ignored him. “When he told me you moved back, I said, ‘Lord, that’s exactly right. Please get these two young people together. I know they was meant for each other.’ And here you are.”
Brian shook his head. “Grandma, we’re not back together. Kelli’s here for one visit because I need to talk to her about an idea for the album.”
Grandma Howard addressed him directly now. “I thought you would’ve seen by now that school is where your focus needs to be. There’s a reason nothing’s been coming to you for this album.”
Brian sighed, and Kelli could hear in it a thousand conversations he and his grandmother had had.
“You might be right,” Brian said. “But you always said keep seeking Him until you know for sure.”
Grandma Howard eyed him. “Can’t argue with that.” She moved toward the stairs. “Kelli, go on in there and get you some of that chicken. Don’t act like you ain’t at home. This is still your home.”
Kelli smiled. “I already ate, Grandma Howard, but thank you.”
Brian opened the door to the lower level, and they descended the stairs.
Kelli shivered, rubbing her arms. “It was always cold down here.”
“Why did I know you’d say that?” He turned to look at her. “I’ll turn on the space heater down here—in the middle of summer—just for you.”
She made a face. “Thanks.”
When she got near the bottom step, she could see the transformation. The living space, once filled with an old sofa and floor television with a pool table off to the side, now had a long wooden desk against a wall, with two big computer monitors on top and racks underneath with tons of equipment. “This looks serious. You can actually make music down here?”
Brian nodded. “I’ve got everything I need.” He plopped down in a swivel seat in front of the equipment.
Kelli was still looking around. “What’s that behind the mic stand?”
“Reflection filter. Helps with the sound.”
She was intrigued, wanting to ask about everything she saw, like the diamond-shaped foam on the walls, but she caught herself. She came for a limited purpose.
“So tell me why I’m here.” She took the other chair at the desk.
Brian swiveled toward her, his forearms on his thighs. “I heard the song you recorded on my laptop.”
Kelli felt sick. How could she have been so absentminded? She’d meant to delete it from his hard drive once she’d sent it to Monica and burned it onto a disk for herself.
“Something about it grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. I played it over and over and over. Kelli, it’s beautiful.”
She whispered, “Thanks,” her arms trembling slightly.
“The next day the chorus was still going in my head,” he said, “but with a slightly different arrangement, over another beat.”
Kelli frowned slightly, wondering what that would sound like. “Okay . . .”
“I had to test it. I sent the song to one of my favorite producers, told him what I was thinking, and asked him to remake it. Got it back, and it blew me away.”
“I’m not getting where you’re going with this.”
Brian scooted a little closer. “For the first time, I’m truly feeling a song for this album. I don’t know why, but I’m connected to it. The love theme is powerful. When I found out Monica wasn’t using it, I felt bad for you, but I al
so wondered if it might be a God thing.”
“You want to use my song for your album?”
“A remake of it, yeah. I’d come up with my own verses, maybe ask Monica to sing the chorus.”
“No.” She got up, her heart beating fast. “You can’t use it.”
His face fell. “Why not?”
She walked across the room. “I don’t have to give you a reason, Brian. I just don’t want you to.”
“But you were going to let Monica use it, weren’t you?” He sighed. “I get it. I’m not Monica. I was so drawn to the song—not to mention the fact I was finally inspired—that it didn’t occur to me, ‘Hey, you’re the guy who broke her heart. Why should she do anything for you?’”
“It’s not that. At least, not the main part.” Kelli felt an inner urge to tell him the real reason, but how could she?
“You won’t tell me what the main part is?”
She closed her eyes tight, to keep the dam plugged. “I just can’t.”
“Is it because it’s something personal?”
She found that funny, in a desperate sort of way. “Oh, it’s personal all right.”
Why couldn’t she stop trembling?
She blew out a breath. Fine, why not tell him? She’d tried all those years ago, and he wouldn’t listen. Would probably hurt him to hear it now . . . and in a way, it would serve him right. “That’s the song . . .” Tears spilled onto her cheeks.
Brian got up, came to her side. “What is it?”
She couldn’t look at him. “The last song I wrote, the night before . . . before you broke up with me. God gave me that song for our baby.”
BRIAN STOOD STOCK-STILL, AFRAID TO GRASP THE meaning of what Kelli had just said. “God gave you a song . . . for our baby?” He barely made sense of the words, yet they were piercing his soul. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried. That’s why I came to see you.”
Kelli was shaking, and Brian wanted to hold her but he knew she wouldn’t let him. He brushed her tears instead.
“You didn’t want to hear it,” she said. “Remember? ‘I know you’re here to try to talk me into keeping this baby’”—her tone mocked him—“‘but I’ve made up my mind. You can do what you want, but you’ll be doing it alone.’”
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