Cherished

by Kim Cash Tate

  “Ah, makes sense now.” Cedric clicked off the TV and turned on his side toward her. “Scott called today about getting me a draft of the promotional materials. We talked about the choices theme, and he said we need to make sure guys understand that bad choices can reap bad consequences for a long time. When you think it’s over, it comes roaring back at you. I bet he’s dealing with a lot at home right now.”

  “All because of me. I hate this. I wish I hadn’t gone to that songwriters’ conference, then I wouldn’t be in the middle of this.”

  “Maybe. No point in second-guessing. I thought you said your time with Heather and Kelli was incredible.”

  “That’s just it. When I focus on Heather, my heart is so sure that I’m supposed to be in her life. But when I focus on Dana, my heart breaks, knowing how it makes her feel.”

  “Babe.” He caressed her face. “Keep focusing on God. You felt He was leading you to do this, so you’ve got to trust He’ll work it out. Right?”

  “I know.” She stared off to the side. “But things are only going to get worse.” She couldn’t hold back tears. “Why now?”

  Cedric took her into his arms. “Did you get a chance to tell them?”

  “No. Dana left before we’d even eaten. I didn’t feel like sharing the news without her.” She sniffed into his chest. “Such a huge moment in my life. I’m going to have a baby, and Dana doesn’t know about it?”

  “Sweetheart, we only found out yesterday.”

  “Still.”

  He rubbed her back. “I still can’t believe it.”

  “Me either.” Thoughts of the baby lifted her mood. She looked up at him and kissed him. “You and I, having a baby. It’s the most exhilarating feeling.”

  “Uh,” he said. “Secondmost for me.”

  She frowned at him. “What’s the first?”

  “Marrying you. I’m still amazed that God actually gave me you as a wife.”

  “You’re making me cry again. And I’m not even a big crier.” She sat up suddenly. “I wonder if it’s a hormone thing. Oh, joy. I’ll be a big fat crybaby now.” She sank down again.

  “Least you’ll be a beautiful big fat crybaby.”

  She cut her eyes up at him, then snuggled close. “Feeling’s mutual, by the way. I’m still amazed God gave me you. And I’m amazed you’re still giving me roses.” She gazed beyond him to the nightstand, at the dozen fresh golden roses he’d brought home after work.

  “You didn’t think it would stop, did you?”

  Cedric had given her roses from the first weekend they met through to their wedding day—each time a different color with a special meaning. She thought a moment. “I guess I just didn’t expect it.”

  “Good. I like surprising you. But I’m running out of colors. Might have to recycle some old ones.”

  Cyd smiled. “You’ll come up with something, and it’ll be perfect. I never even knew there was such a thing as gold roses, let alone that they symbolized a joyous occasion.”

  “I had to mark this occasion somehow. The two of us becoming first-time parents in our forties? It’s wild and wonderful and—”

  “Scary.”

  Cedric sat up on an elbow. “What do you mean?”

  “All the stories you hear about high-risk pregnancies. What if there are complications with my health? Or the baby’s?”

  “Sweetheart, it’s not like you to worry.”

  “But what if something goes wrong with the pregnancy? I’m almost forty-one. I might not get another chance. What if—”

  He planted a kiss. “What if we just trust God—with the baby and the pregnancy, with Dana, with everything?”

  Sounded like advice she’d given someone else. But with life pressing in as it was, in ways she’d never before experienced, the dial seemed stuck on worry. “So you’re saying it’s not a good thing to drive myself crazy imagining the worst?”

  “Not for you or the baby.”

  She sighed. “Guess there’s nothing I can do to control any of it anyway.”

  He smiled at her. “There’s one part you can control.”

  She tossed her eyes. “I know. I can trust.” She ran her hand slowly across her belly. If only it were as easy as flipping that dial.

  nineteen

  THURSDAY DAWNED WITH A PROMISING OPPORTUNITY— and Kelli just knew it was God at work. Earlier in the week, she had hit the pavement and dropped off cover letters and résumés at local firms with communications or marketing personnel. At one place she’d done a little more, after reading a feature in the morning paper about Tina Schoenfeld. She was being honored as one of St. Louis’s Most Influential Businesswomen—and she was president of a public relations agency. Kelli included a special letter with a congratulatory note for her.

  She couldn’t believe it when she got a call first thing this morning from Schoenfeld’s assistant, who asked whether Kelli was related to Cedric London. Turned out, Cedric had worked with Tina in the past, was even instrumental in helping her secure a prior post. The assistant wanted to know if Kelli had time today to grab a quick lunch.

  Kelli agreed in a heartbeat. Not only did she hope to glean wisdom from this successful businesswoman, but even more, she hoped this would be an entrée to the start of her career. If Cedric had helped Tina, surely Tina would help Cedric’s sister. Wasn’t that how it worked?

  But the lunch appointment at the quaint corner café in Clayton ended with expectations dashed. Tina did want to return the favor, but it didn’t reach farther than the lunch itself and a sprinkling of encouragement and advice. As for an actual job, Kelli should call her in three to five years, once she’d gotten great experience elsewhere.

  Kelli mulled the disappointment as she walked to her metered parking spot and got in her car. But it didn’t take long for her thoughts to change course. She was headed to Brian’s for their first “official” collaborating session. She couldn’t deny the anticipation she’d felt the last few days. There was nothing sweeter than the sound of melodies in her head again—they were still coming. That she might be able to do something tangible with them was almost too much to grasp. But it was also hard to grasp the thought of working with Brian.

  Her phone rang as she started the car. She wondered if it was Brian . . . or Miles. Strange having them coupled in the same thought.

  She pulled out her cell and smiled. “Hi, Miles.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Lunch was good, but she’s not looking to hire me.”

  “That’s too bad. I thought for sure it would lead to something.”

  “Yeah.” She shifted into drive.

  “What’s your next step? Sending off more résumés this afternoon?”

  She pulled into a lane. “No, not this afternoon.”

  “Don’t you think you need to? Maybe you should be more aggressive.”

  She frowned. “You don’t think I’ve been aggressive enough?”

  “Well, your first meeting with my parents will go a lot better if you’re working someplace, positioned in your career. Shows them you’re worthy of their son.” He chuckled.

  Kelli had no words. Well, she had plenty, but none she could say.

  “That last part was supposed to be a joke.”

  “Right.” She pulled to a red light and watched the foot traffic, people leaving restaurants and heading back to work.

  “Kelli? I hope you’re not getting too discouraged over the job search. You’ve seemed . . . distant lately.”

  “I have?” She pulled into a lane, blowing out a silent breath. She’d hoped it wasn’t obvious.

  “A little. Not calling as much, not talking as long. I figured it was either the job search or something else. I wondered if you were back in touch with your old boyfriend.”

  “Brian? Oh, no worries where he’s concerned. It’s just been so busy with this transition back to life in St. Louis.” Was she talking faster than normal? Should she at least tell him she was working with Brian? Why was she inclined to keep i
t quiet?

  “I understand,” he said. “It’s only normal. But I miss the days when we could spend hours studying in the library on campus and grabbing a meal.” He paused. “I miss you, Kelli.”

  “I miss you too, Miles.”

  “Guess we’re finding the new rhythm of our relationship. I’m hoping the melody is just as beautiful.”

  She stared at the stretch of road before her, taken aback by his analogy. “Me too.” If he only knew how melodies figured into her life, into this very day.

  She couldn’t stop thinking about it as she pulled in front of Brian’s house. There was another whole side of her about which Miles knew nothing, the side that held her deepest thoughts, hurts, and dreams. Only one person knew Kelli fully.

  Brian’s front door opened, and he poked his head out. “Coming in anytime soon?”

  Kelli grabbed her purse, change of clothes, and old notepad from the passenger seat, then stepped out. “Hi, Brian.”

  “Hey. Don’t you look cute.” He held the door for her, smiling as she walked up. “You didn’t have to dress up for our session, you know.”

  “Ha-ha.” She lifted the jeans and shirt she was holding. “Can I use your bathroom?”

  When she came out, Brian was standing in the kitchen eating a fast-food sandwich.

  “Where’s Grandma Howard?”

  “Still at church. They’ve got noonday prayer now, and she likes to make it as often as she can.”

  “She amazes me. Always on the go.” Kelli eyed his food. “So you thought you’d sneak that in while she’s gone?”

  He popped the last bite into his mouth. “She still gives me a hard time about fast food. Thinks I should eat leftovers every day for lunch.” He took a drink of his soda. “How was your lunch?”

  She set her clothes on a kitchen chair. “No job leads.”

  “Yet,” he said. “I’m praying for you.” He balled up his trash and threw it away. “Ready to get to work?”

  Kelli followed him downstairs. “I’m ready. Did that producer send some samples?”

  She couldn’t believe that all she had to do was call the producer’s voice mail and sing the chorus she’d gotten in her head on Sunday, and he’d put together music tracks that fit the melody.

  “He e-mailed three. I already listened, and there’s one I think is perfect.” Brian plopped into his swivel chair. “But I won’t say anything. Wanna see what you think.”

  Brian played the first one, and Kelli stared at the floor as she listened. She liked the beat well enough, but when it got to the chorus, she wasn’t sure about it. She sang along anyway, trying to tweak it to make it fit. She looked at Brian and shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “Here’s the next one.”

  Two seconds in, she was nodding her head. “Ooh, I love this.” She looked at Brian. “You hear that string arrangement?”

  Brian’s feet were propped up on a stool. “The strings are dope.”

  Kelli heard some ad-libs in her head that she could sing during Brian’s verse and tried them out.

  “Aww, Kel, that ‘oh-oh’ thing you just did . . . on the money.”

  She sang the chorus, and it dropped perfectly into the musical arrangement. “I don’t know what the next sample sounds like, but there’s no way it could be better than this one. This is our track.”

  He smiled. “Exactly. I knew I wouldn’t have to bother playing the third.”

  “So we’ve got the track and the hook. What about your part?”

  Brian turned off the music and pulled his Bible from the desk. “Okay, so we’re doing this love letter to the suffering, which is something we all have to go through. Philippians 1:29 says we’re called to believe and suffer for Jesus’ name.” He flipped some pages. “First Peter really rocked me as I studied—the comparison between suffering for doing what’s right, which finds favor with God, and suffering because you’ve done wrong.” He looked at Kelli. “I know what the latter feels like. I built my verses around that juxtaposition.” He passed a notepad to her.

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a notepad now?”

  “Comes in handy, you know?”

  She had to smile.

  Kelli looked at the lyrics, lines that spoke of being brought low and treated badly because of something “you knew you shouldn’t have done, a wrong move you couldn’t outrun.” Then they flipped to school and the workplace, standing for Christ, suffering ridicule and rejection. Kelli could hear the chorus kick in. You’re blessed . . . rejoice . . . when you suffer . . . you are blessed . . .

  She pondered the lyrics more before looking at him. “I have a confession.”

  Brian looked at her.

  “When I first heard you were doing Christian rap, I thought it would be a lot of fluff with a good beat. But I listened to a couple of your songs on iTunes, and working with you now”—she paused—“it’s more like theology with a beat. God is really using you.”

  “You too, Kel.” Brian’s eyes penetrated. “You’re stepping into what you were always meant to do. Remember how you dreamed of music as a career?”

  His question landed deep. She’d dared to dream that dream for a little while, but she didn’t dare embrace it again. This was a temporary project. Brian’s project. She would help him and, in the best of scenarios, might even enjoy it. But her career lay elsewhere.

  “I remember,” she answered, “but we dream a lot of things in our youth that don’t pan out. You were sure you’d be a scientist.”

  “I still might be—hey, that reminds me,” he said suddenly. “This is the last week for that body exhibit at the Science Center. Will you go with me if we get done before too late?”

  “I can’t, Brian.”

  “Why not?”

  “It would seem like we’re jumping back into the way things used to be, and things aren’t the way they used to be.”

  His face fell. “But we’re working together. We’re becoming friends again. Aren’t we?”

  “Working together, yes. Friends?” She turned it over in her mind. “On a certain level, I guess. But there’s so much water under the bridge. I don’t see how it could ever be the friendship it once was.”

  He turned toward the console. “Guess we couldn’t have picked a better day to record this love letter.” His cell phone rang, and he looked to see who it was. “I need to get this.”

  Kelli’s thoughts lingered around her last statement. Was she as sure as she sounded?

  “So you’re coming Friday morning?” Brian was saying. “Sounds like a plan. Yeah, we can all ride together . . . I’m looking forward to it too. It’ll be fun. What’s that? . . . Oh, I’ll have to tell you about it. I feel like I’m finally rolling on this album.” He listened. “I’m not sure. Kelli will be doing the singing, at least most of it.”

  Kelli’s eyebrows lifted. She had the impression she’d be on all of it.

  “Kelli,” Brian was saying, “the one who gave you that song.”

  Monica. Interesting.

  “We can talk about it . . . Okay.”

  Brian hung up, his eyes on the equipment. “We’ll lay down the hook first. I think we’ll be able to knock the whole song out in a few hours. That’ll be two down. I’m pumped.”

  Kelli nodded. Where was Brian going Friday? Was Monica asking to sing on his album? What did he think about that?

  In the past he wouldn’t have hesitated to share his life, his schedule, his thoughts. And she wouldn’t have hesitated to ask. But hadn’t she just told him their friendship wasn’t the same? Apparently, he was abiding by that. Also apparent—he had someone else to fill the gap.

  KELLI WAS ALMOST HOME AFTER SIX HOURS IN THE studio with Brian. They’d indeed finished the song, the process generating one creative idea after another. What they ended up with far surpassed what they’d imagined.

  Her phone rang as she turned onto her street, and she slowed to look at it. Cedric.

  “Hey, I’m almost home,” she said.

  �
�I’m on my way to church. We’ve got a meeting to talk about the new ministry. And when I talked to Doug earlier, it sounded like there could be an opportunity for you. Can you come up here and talk to him?”

  She pulled up to the curb. “What kind of opportunity? And who’s Doug?”

  “He’s Director of Communications at Living Word. Not exactly sure what the opportunity might entail, but you should meet him.”

  Cedric was all about networking. Granted, it was his line of business, but she hated to get her hopes up for nothing. “Well, okay. I guess I can meet you there.”

  “We’ll be in the main building, second floor. Once you pass the classrooms, you’ll see a conference room. Bring your résumé. And, Kelli?”

  “Make a good impression.”

  “Riiight.”

  Kelli chuckled. Cedric had been drumming that in her head from the time she interviewed for her first job in high school—look the part in any interview situation, even if it wasn’t official. She ran into the house and changed back into her skirt, yelling a “Hey!” at Cyd and telling where she was headed. Something yummy awaited on the stove, reminding her she was starving—but for now, a banana would have to hold her.

  Kelli pulled into the parking lot at church, surprised to see so many cars until she remembered that the choir rehearsed on Thursday evenings. She drove to the familiar area of the lot. She and her family not only inhabited the same pew but the same parking spaces when they could get them. She spotted Cedric’s and Scott’s cars near one another and parked by them. In the building, before she took the stairs, she took a peek inside the sanctuary. Logan was at the piano, directing the choir in a song that was building. At its height he cut it off.

  “Right there,” he said. “Sopranos only until the next measure, then my altos kick back in, then my tenors and basses. You almost had it, but I know I heard a few bottom voices in there.”

  Kelli ducked back out and headed up. She couldn’t help but think how nice it would be if Heather still attended Living Word and sang in the choir. But she knew how painful that would be for Dana . . .

  The door to the meeting room stood ajar, and Kelli could see a few people milling about. Cedric and Scott spotted her and introduced her to Doug, Karen the graphic design specialist, and Waylan, who handled web design.