Cherished

by Kim Cash Tate

  “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to get your thoughts on it, but I also wanted your help. You’re the communications person. I wondered if you’d work with me on how to frame the story and through what format.”

  “Don’t you have a management team and PR people to guide you with stuff like this?”

  Brian shook his head. “I let my manager go. I have a booking agent and a road manager, and the label does some marketing stuff but a professional publicity team? No. Nothing like that.”

  “But I’m not a professional either, Brian. I’m just getting started. You need someone with experience to help you with something like this.”

  “But the story involves you, too, and even though you wouldn’t be named publicly, I trust how you’d handle it.”

  “Won’t people guess I’m involved, since I’m singing on the song?”

  “Not at all. You’ll be on every song. They’ll just think you’re on the album because I love your voice”—he smiled for the first time since he arrived—“which I do.”

  Kelli sighed and stared vaguely at the stack of stories on her desk. Stories about choices, some of which caused a great deal of pain, yet God somehow brought beauty from the ash heap. She tapped her pen on the desk as a realization beckoned. This really wasn’t about Brian or her. It was about God using them to convey a message. And wasn’t that the business she was in?

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Okay what?”

  “I think you should do it, and I’ll help you—though I have no idea what to do.”

  “Thanks, Kel. I already feel a lot better about it.” He got up. “You’re coming this afternoon?”

  “I’ll be there. Looking forward to working some more on background vocals for the song with Heather and me.” They’d started it last evening.

  “The part you already did blew me away. I got kind of misty listening.”

  “So did I, when I heard it back. Made me think of all God’s done in just the last month.” She held Brian’s gaze. “I’m seeing God in a whole new way by working on this album. Thank you, Brian.”

  “I’m along for the ride, just like you.” He got up, lifting the chair. “And we’ve got awhile to go yet.”

  Kelli watched him leave, his last words lingering.

  twenty-five

  HEATHER COULDN’T REMEMBER A MORE STRESSFUL Thursday. The very first patient showed up several minutes late, throwing off every other appointment, which caused one woman to curse at Heather because she couldn’t get in and out quickly enough. One of the hygienists didn’t show up at all—citing a babysitting problem, which by now had been such a recurring problem that said babysitter should’ve been replaced. That threw the office in a tizzy as they sought a temp. Heather had to get impressions for braces, which meant slathering a bunch of goo in the mouth of the patient, but before the goo dried, it ended up back on Heather’s lap along with the patient’s lunch. And Dr. Henry stepped up his subtle flirtations, standing inches from her face, telling her he preferred the tighter scrub tops she used to wear to work.

  She’d never been happier to leave, though even that was a challenge. Her workday was scheduled to end at five. It was now six fifteen. A sigh of frustration, fatigue, and longing escaped as she waited for the elevator—longing because every hour of the day, all she could think was she didn’t want to be there. And it wasn’t because of the stress at work. It was because of the work she’d done in the studio.

  She was singing again, and the experience was like nothing she’d ever known. She’d been in the choir; she’d sung praise songs. But this time it was more than a vocal exercise. It was as if God had kissed her voice, renewed it, coupled her heart and soul with it. She felt close to God as she sang. And when she finished her part last night, the feeling was incredible.

  Then she had to wake up and come to this.

  The elevator door opened, and Heather rode down to the first floor, her heart heavy as she made her way to the parking garage. She’d said she could do this job the rest of her life if that’s what God wanted, and that could very well be the case. What happened this week—singing on a Christian rapper’s album—would not be a regular occurrence. Nor would it pay the bills. She could appreciate the experience, but dwelling there was counterproductive. She might never be able to work full-time in music, and that needed to be okay. But it did beg the question, couldn’t she have a regular job and sing?

  She got in her car and started the engine. She’d been shooting up prayers about a church home in the midst of the day’s stress. She felt kind of guilty, though. Part of her reason for wanting to find a church home was to sing in a choir. But at least this time, she wasn’t looking to sing to get noticed. She just wanted to use the voice God had given her to praise Him.

  It’d be nice if God would pick her up and transport her to the exact church she should attend. Just stand her right in front of the building. She’d gone online to check out churches, but when she listened to the sermons, they didn’t connect like Pastor Lyles’s did, which saddened her. All the time she’d been there, she hadn’t appreciated his teaching. But these last two weeks that Kelli had brought her a CD of the sermons, she’d eaten it up. Deep down, she wanted to go back to Living Word. But she couldn’t sing in that choir again, not after what happened. And what if she ran into Dana on any given Sunday? She knew the mere sight of her was painful for Dana. She just couldn’t do that.

  Heather sat in her parking spot. She needed a pep talk to raise her out of this funk, let her know it would be all right. God would lead her to a great church. He would help her to be content with her job once again. And He could even give her another opportunity to sing. Somehow, hearing someone else say it—like Logan or Cyd— made all the difference.

  She got out her phone. Logan was at church preparing for choir rehearsal, so she couldn’t call him. Scrolling to find Cyd, she smiled when she passed the name Ian Engel. One day, she hoped, she and her brother would be close enough for her to call and share her heart. She didn’t think it would take long either. He’d called her twice this week to chat, and they were determined to find a weekend soon to visit.

  She called Cyd’s number but was disappointed when voice mail clicked on. Oh well. Heather would probably be fine once she got home and rested from the day. But then again, Cyd only lived five minutes away. She’d told Heather not to hesitate to get in touch if she needed to talk. Maybe she’d pop over and see if she had a quick minute to pray with her.

  When Heather got to the house, she saw Cyd’s car in the driveway, Kelli’s behind it, and a couple of others in front. Did they have company? But people parked wherever they could around here, so it didn’t mean much. Heather pulled in front of the house next door, walked up, and rang the bell.

  Her heart froze when the door opened. Dana.

  “Um, I’m sorry . . . I shouldn’t have . . .” Heather turned, wanting the sidewalk to open up and swallow her. She couldn’t get to her car fast enough.

  “Heather.”

  Her feet stopped, heart hammering. Did Dana just say her name?

  “Did you need to see Cyd?”

  Tears spilled from her eyes. Was it the weight of the entire day? Or just this moment? She turned back around in her scrubs. “I did, but it’s okay.” She barely looked at her.

  Dana paused. “Wait.”

  She closed the screen door and disappeared. Seconds later, Cyd came out.

  “Heather, I didn’t know you were coming.”

  She couldn’t stop crying. “I’m sorry, Cyd. No one answered when I called, and I should’ve just gone home.”

  “It’s okay, sweetie.” Cyd took her into her arms. “Really. It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Heather wet Cyd’s chest. “I know Dana hates seeing me, and I don’t blame her. I didn’t mean to cause trouble between you two again.”

  “Sweetie, shh.” Cyd stroked her hair. “Listen. God answered your prayer.”

  Heather took a step back so
she could see Cyd’s face.

  “He touched Dana’s heart. She was able to accept us working together, and she forgives you.”

  Heather couldn’t process what Cyd was saying, but her emotions could. Fresh tears wet her face. “But . . . why? Why would she forgive me?”

  “Bottom line? Because God has forgiven her.”

  Heather shook her head. “It can’t be that simple.”

  “Actually, it kind of is.”

  Heather stared at her, overwhelmed.

  “So, what made you stop by? What’s on your mind?”

  Heather blinked, trying to rewind ten minutes. “Oh, we can just talk about it next time I see you. I know you’re busy.”

  “Oh!”

  Heather made a face. “What?”

  “I want to tell you my news.” Cyd took a breath, eyes sparkling. “I’m pregnant. That’s why people are here, having a celebration get-together for Cedric and me.”

  “Oh, Cyd! You’ll make the best mom ever. I’m so happy for you!”

  She grinned. “Thanks. I’m pretty excited myself. But”—the grin was fading—“I wish I could invite you—”

  Heather waved away the thought. “It’s no problem.”

  “See you Saturday?”

  “You know it. Tell Kelli to call me later tonight if she gets a chance.”

  “Will do.”

  HEATHER DROVE ONTO THE GROUNDS OF LIVING WORD past nine o’clock that night with an eerie feeling. She hadn’t been here in ten months. Under the glare of the lampposts, she saw less than a handful of cars in the vast church complex—just as she’d hoped. Choir rehearsal had ended, and everyone was gone. Well. Most everyone. She drove to the lot nearest the main building and spotted the old forest-green Jeep Cherokee. She parked beside it.

  Heather hoped the main doors hadn’t been locked yet from the outside. The first two she tried wouldn’t budge, but the one on the far right let her into the entryway. She rounded the bend to the sanctuary and slowed as she approached a set of double doors propped open.

  She could hear the piano playing softly now, and she lingered a moment just inside, watching. Then she made her way down a side aisle, out of Logan’s direct sight. He stopped playing and noted something on a sheet—then turned suddenly and saw her.

  “Heather . . . hey. Surprised to see you here.” He got up and walked to the edge of the platform. “You haven’t been home yet from work?”

  She looked down at her apparel. “No. Stopped by Cyd’s, then walked the mall, got something to eat.”

  Logan came down the steps. “And decided to come to Living Word? How did that happen?”

  Heather sat in the first pew. “Kelli told me about the new songs the choir’s been singing. Made me sad that I don’t get to hear them anymore . . . or sing them. The thought hit me that I could come after choir rehearsal and you could play them for me. That is, if you’re not too busy.”

  He shrugged. “Sure, I can play them if you like. But only if you sing. You were one of my favorite solo voices, you know.”

  “You never told me that.”

  “Not something I’d tell you while you were in the choir. But your voice has such depth, a lot of soul.”

  “Logan, that means a lot coming from you. Thank you.”

  He motioned her forward. “To the piano we go.”

  Heather sat next to him at the baby grand and listened as he played the first song, lending his own melodic voice.

  When he’d finished the last chords, she stared at him. “That was crazy. You have such a gift for writing worship songs. I loved that.”

  He simply smiled and began playing it again. “Ready?”

  She looked at the music sheet on the stand to get the first words. “Ready.”

  Their voices blended together, Heather’s stumbling at first to find the rhythm, then continuing strong. She had that soaring feeling again, like she was in the zone. At the end, Logan looked at her strangely.

  “What?”

  “I had no idea the song could sound that good. You’re pretty amazing.”

  She shirked the compliment. “Oh, Logan.”

  He played the next song and, as before, she joined him on the second go-round, moved by the worship it engendered.

  “You’re the one who’s pretty amazing. I’m glad I stopped by to hear these.”

  “Me too.”

  Their gaze lingered, then they looked away.

  Heather rose from the bench. “I’d better be going. Need my rest so I can be up early and raring to go for another awesome day at the dental office . . . she said with fake enthusiasm.” Her face turned sheepish. “Sorry. I said I wasn’t going to complain about the job.”

  “Whenever you want to release some steam by hanging out after choir rehearsal and singing your heart out, feel free.”

  “Careful. I might take you up on that.”

  With one hand he fingered a few chords. Then he paused and looked up at her. “That’s what I was hoping.”

  Heather smiled, backing away. Then she turned and walked the few steps down the platform and up the aisle, trying to ignore the weird sensation inside. Sure felt like her heart did a skitter. But it wasn’t the old “wow, he’s handsome” skitter. It seemed to be coming from someplace deeper.

  twenty-six

  IT WAS FRIDAY, AND BRIAN WAS STARTING TO PANIC. SO far only three songs had been recorded, and the album was due to the label end of next week. He was thankful he finally knew where he was going with it, but for the last album, he’d recorded ten songs more than needed—way in advance—so people he trusted could listen and tell him which were best to include. Now he was stressing over whether they’d have time to write and record the bare minimum, each of which needed to be good. And added to that stress was the fact that he was about to expose his past, which could bring a ton of controversy.

  He stared vaguely at the computer screen in the studio. At least his label was on board with what he was doing. It considered itself a ministry with a mission to present the Gospel and a biblical world-view through music. The label owner told Brian, “We’ve never shied away from letting our artists tell the raw truth about their pasts. It makes the light of Christ shine all the brighter.”

  He just hoped the public would see it that way.

  He brought his focus back to the computer, trying to clear his inbox before Kelli arrived from work. Kelli. He hated how often she came to mind, even more so when he was trying not to think about her. After that blow at Six Flags, he told himself to forget all hope that the two of them could be together. Of course she had a boyfriend. What an idiot he’d been to assume otherwise.

  He leaned forward when new messages downloaded to his mailbox and let out a groan at the first one. His academic advisor. He skimmed the note, zeroing in on the bottom line. We need to know by end of next week whether you will continue your studies in the fall or terminate your degree at the master’s level.

  Brian’s head fell on the desk. He was supposed to know his life’s future by next week? If the album turned out well, did that mean God wanted him to focus solely on the music? How would he really know?

  He lifted his head with a new thought. Maybe it wasn’t the either/or it seemed. He could resume studies in the fall because the album wouldn’t release until the end of October, when the semester was half over. Somehow he’d make it work. He’d work double the extra hours in the lab on the days he could, to compensate for concert dates out of town.

  And anyway . . . who said he needed to do tons of concert dates? People who followed his music knew he was a student. Wouldn’t they understand he couldn’t be on the road much? But his label definitely wouldn’t understand. After all, this was a business. Albums cost money. They needed him to get out there and promote it. That might even be in his contract.

  Vaguely, he moved his mouse to the next message, concerning possible artwork for the CD cover. They needed feedback today. He went to the next—and the doorbell rang.

  Brian sighed, kno
wing it was Kelli. It wasn’t that he no longer enjoyed working with her. It was that he loved it too much. He needed someone to tell him how to shut off his heart. He bounded up the stairs and let her in.

  She looked cute as usual in simple white capri pants, her hair gathered in a side ponytail. “Hey,” she said.

  “Hi, Kelli.” He stepped aside as she walked in. “You can go on downstairs. I need to run up and get some notes I had for a song idea, though I confess I’m not jazzed about it.”

  Brian went to his bedroom, grabbed the notes from his nightstand, and went down to the studio. When he sat in his chair, he saw what he’d left showing on his computer screen—a picture of him and Monica with their arms around one another at last Friday’s festival. One of the teen girls had sent the e-mail through his website.

  Kelli had her head in her notepad, but he was sure she saw it. Whatever. Didn’t matter anyway.

  He switched screens on the computer and turned toward her. “I’m really hoping some ideas came to you, ’cause I’ve been stressing the last couple of days.”

  She sat back, crossing her legs. “I have two to run by you.”

  “Excellent. Shoot.”

  “First one comes from this project I’m working on at church. I’ve been so impacted by the stories. I think we should do a love letter to young men.”

  Brian nodded. “Importance of choices, not just living in the now.”

  “Exactly. Responsibility. Taking the right path. A decision today can affect your life for years to come, not to mention the lives of others.”

  “Okay. What’s the other?”

  “The parallel, a love letter to young women. Choices are huge there too. The song would let them know it’s okay to be different, to hold on to virtue and modesty, to save sex for marriage. Also encourage them to look closely at the kind of men they’re dating.”

  Brian laughed, but without amusement. “Why do I feel like both these ideas are aimed at slamming me?”