Maeve blinked. “That’s impressive.”
Josh shook his head and crouched against a breeze that kissed his skin then faded away. Yep. It was good to be surrounded by the woodsy scent and textures of home. “Nah. That’s just the brotherhood of the NFL.” The wind kicked again, rippling a thick curl of hair across Maeve’s cheek and mouth. His throat went dry when she used a fingertip to slide it away. “Meanwhile, look at you. Liam told me everything you’re experiencing now is the result of what was supposed to be a simple, one-time-only performance. Talk about living your dream. I’m really happy for you.”
She tilted her head, squinting against the sun when she looked his way. “It’s what God intended. For both of us.”
He sensed the melancholy that covered her words because he felt it himself.
But I always wanted more, Maeve. The urge to speak those words aloud nearly burned through his skin. Once upon a time, so did you. Once upon a time, we wanted the fairytale—with each other. What about now? Who are you now?
Only time spent together would answer those questions, so Josh kept quiet, listening to tree branches creak and chatter, watching birds circle above. By now, he needed motion, and warmth. He stood and laced his fingers through hers, smoothing a caress against the back of her hand. “Let’s head back to town. I’ll treat you to a latte.”
They trotted down the stairs to ground level and each footstep produced a hollow ring that echoed through the air in tandem with the memories and ghosts, the longings that swirled all around him. Josh kept his pace steady and even while they retraced their path to the car. There was a rock on the path before him. He tapped it into a fast, skittering roll with the toe of his shoe.
He unlocked the vehicle with a double blip from his key fob and crossed to the passenger side so he could open the door for Maeve. Tucking a guiding hand beneath her elbow, he assisted her inside.
But before he let go, he caught her gaze. “This was wonderful. It feels like old times.”
Very carefully, she edged her elbow from his grasp. Shadows crossed her face, darkness slid across her eyes. “Maybe…for a few minutes…but we’ve changed, Josh. After…after…high school…we had to. There was no other choice.”
Nope, there was no mistaking the way Maeve stumbled over her words, no doubting the layers of emotion that twisted and tangled and stretched between them.
“Maybe not then. What about now?”
Her chest rose and fell; she lowered her lashes and fastened her safety belt. Diversion. Discomfort. He knew what prompted part of her mood—an ambush. The rest of it he’d figure out. The curves ahead didn’t bother Josh.
He was on a mission.
3
Not for one day in her life had Maeve Callahan been referred to as a morning person. That characteristic, paired with the fact that she had spent the entire night tossing and turning promised to make today’s nine o’clock meeting at Liam’s office a real joy bringer.
OK, in truth she had nabbed maybe an hour or two of fitful sleep, but all the while, a solitary, compelling specter haunted her every thought, her every breath, and every curling wisp of encroaching sleep.
Josh.
Josh Andrews.
Josh Andrews was most definitely back.
The words transformed to an unending drum beat, a rhythm that wreaked havoc on her spirit. She had been so busy living moment to moment from the instant she saw him that, until last night, until her tired mind tried to go quiet, she hadn’t let the ramifications of his arrival set in. Sinking into the soothing cadence of ritual prayers had eased her for a short time, but she awoke this morning with no ready answers, no epiphanies.
Maeve convened with the rest of the Sisters team at the office they jokingly referred to as Zion’s Peak-Upstate due to its location hours away from the label’s true HQ in New York City. Today they tasked themselves with the objective of choosing songs for the Goal to Go benefit. Josh would arrive shortly so they could officially ink and affirm the plan to perform at Lincoln Center.
“So…” Aileen’s voice cut into the silence. When no one responded to the prompt, Maeve looked up and realized Aileen’s gaze was pinned right on her, eager and expectant.
“So, what?” Foreboding crawled in a chilling path up her back, across her shoulders, down her arms…
“So, fill us in! How was the reunion with Josh? Was it awesome? I swear, watching the two of you walk out of here yesterday, his guiding hand tucked all snug and sweet against your back, your cheeks all rosy pink, it was totally adorbs.”
“A ten out of ten, chica!” Kassidy sighed. “Wasn’t it the best? Spill!”
Maeve gulped. “Ah, guys—”
“PS? You owe us major points for restraint.” Two-stepping around Maeve’s discomfort, Siobhan weighed in, chin propped on her hand, already dreamy-eyed at the prospect of reviewing a romantic escapade. “Notice we didn’t encroach, or text, or call, even though we’re dying for details.”
Maeve fought off an agitated growl. This wasn’t their fault.
Despite that sound piece of logic, Maeve experienced a powerful urge to cower from their loving probes. Stomach tossing, slouched in the same conference room chair she had occupied yesterday—when the world had fallen swift and neat from beneath her feet—she sank deeper into a quagmire. How was she supposed to express herself when so much about her past with Josh remained hidden beneath a blanket of shame?
“In the interest of appeasing curiosity and moving on, I’ll share every detail.” Maeve went dramatic, assuming an air of intrigue. She leaned forward and cleared her throat in emphasis. “We walked along the track at Westerville High. We stood at the center of the football field. We sat in the stands, chatting. After that we had coffee. And then”—she paused, eyed each of her friends in turn, building suspense—“he took me home. The end.”
The girls groaned. Aileen ripped the top sheet from her note pad and wadded it into a ball, lobbing it at Maeve’s head.
Maeve snickered, breathing an inner sigh of relief. Hidden yet again. Bullets temporarily dodged. “Sorry to dash your hopes and expectations, but it was really no big thing.”
Three faces fell into disappointed lines. Quiet sighs cut the air. Maeve shrugged, drawing a pen and pad of paper forward so she could start jotting song choices for the Goal to Go benefit performance. The hammer in her head thumped its way into a hard tattoo.
Josh Andrews.
Josh Andrews was back.
“All kidding aside, I’m a bit surprised you’re not happier about this, Maeve.” Aileen gestured widely. “It’s like a brush stroke of destiny.”
Maeve released the chuckle everyone expected, but she felt in no way humorous. “Brush stroke of destiny, Ailee? Come on. That’s a bit over the top, isn’t it, considering I’ve only seen him for a couple of hours after being apart for years and years. Don’t blow things out of proportion. Lots of water has rushed under the bridge between me and Josh. It’s nice to see him, sure, but that’s all there is to it. Come on; let’s focus.”
She clicked her pen and drummed it against the top of her designated yellow legal pad. Unfortunately, distraction powered away any thoughts of performance ideas. Song options refused to coalesce.
Giving up the attempt, Maeve guzzled from a bistro mug of coffee and sighed with bliss as a liquid caffeine charge slid through her system. Thoughts of Josh kicked in with equal power, arousing an ache that caused her heart to squeeze, and sent concentration flying—again. How was she supposed to cope with this? What should she do about his sudden and completely unexpected reemergence in her life? The roadblock was all about sex, all about her betrayal of God’s will and the promise she had made to her friends. Even without that messy set of circumstances, there was no way the logistics of their lives could be smoothly combined.
Was there?
Maeve clutched her pen, knuckles white. Regardless of the answer, a pure and honest love had been tainted by physical needs they had been unable to control. Letting him i
nto her heart, given past history, would be extremely dangerous.
They had lost their chance at forever to a dice-roll that landed on sin.
Could there be any clearer sign of that truth than the fact that God had delivered them to completely separate lives? No wonder, after the way they had abused the love He had given them.
Daughter…my precious child…you doubt Me. Never, ever doubt Me or My love.
A Spirit sweep caused tears to prickle and sting her eyes; Maeve straightened and forced herself to focus.
The Lincoln Center engagement was important—the chance of a lifetime—and she didn’t intend to squander it. Besides, she didn’t doubt God’s love. She doubted herself, and her choices, and she bitterly detested the passion, the flood of emotion, that had cost her Josh and buried her heart beneath the weight of a secret she staggered to continue carrying.
Shoving that thought aside, she scribbled the words Amazing Grace across line one of the page before her. It was the song all four of them agreed on as their top choice. Next Maeve penned: How Great Thou Art. It was the song option that had been under discussion before their conversational shift, but she left a couple line spaces between the two titles and stretched back in her chair. What should be their third selection?
“Between Siobhan’s dance moves and the type of orchestration Liam could produce, I have no doubt How Great Thou Art would stir a tremendous reaction.” Aileen concluded that matter to a chorus of agreeing sounds and head bobs.
“What about the third option?” Kassidy posed the question and propped a knee against the edge of the table. She pursed her lips and propped her notepad, visibly pondering.
“We need time honored hymns everyone will respond to, but I think we also need to give a nod to something a bit more contemporary. Something new. Something dramatic. Something that provides a provocative message.” With that, Aileen shrugged. “Ideas?”
“How kind of you to ask, m’ love.” Liam stormed across the threshold. “I’ve got the answer right here.”
Eyes alight he joined the meeting, lifting his smart phone and brandishing the device with a wiggle. Liam dropped to the chair next to Aileen. He carried a short stack of papers but promptly disbursed them to Maeve and the girls. “Check out the lyrics and just listen to this song.”
He tapped the screen of his phone a few times then settled back. Conversely, Maeve and her friends inched forward. Liam was on fire—that was more than enough to secure her undivided attention.
In seconds, the subtle strains of a violin, the dramatic build of a piano and a bass filled the air. Maeve focused on the sheet from Liam and began to read, starting with the title of the piece. There she froze.
Nothing To Hide.
Three small words combined into a one sentence conviction that blurred Maeve’s world. Her thoughts skittered to a degree that she only absorbed bits and pieces of the song that hummed through the air…until the refrain kicked in and hit her heart like a fist.
Take away the superficial, make-up is blind, love is inside, nothing to hide. Take away the artificial, make up your mind, leave it behind, nothing to hide.
“This song crossed my transom just this morning.” Liam’s voice jarred Maeve to the moment at hand. “I have to believe it’s a God thing. As soon as I heard it, it belonged to Sisters in Spirit.”
He took a moment to study their faces; Aileen already nodded while Siobhan and Kassidy continued to review the words. Liam continued. “The start of the song is all about what culture sees as beauty, and blowing its unattainable expectations out of the water. Aileen, that verse is all you.” Liam’s fingertips moved down the centered blocks of verse. “KC, there’s a section about rejecting pressure and cultural expectations. It’s awesome, and it’s your anthem. Maeve, you’ve always been our woman of mystery and intrigue; there’s a verse about being public, being private, watching life go by, and the freedom we gain by surrendering—in this case to God’s Word and plan. It’s perfect for you.”
Maeve struggled to breathe. Evidently each Sister would have an individual verse, and yes, Liam’s logic was without fault. That lent her no comfort. She was expected sing this song? To remain hidden from sin while she sang about revelation and surrender?
“The message is outstanding, Liam.” Aileen’s enthusiasm carried through to everyone. Everyone but Maeve.
At last, she had to interject. “I don’t know, Liam. I mean, it’s a great song and all—” she imbued the last words with a positivity she didn’t feel “—but shouldn’t we stick to something time-honored and familiar for an event the scale of Lincoln Center?”
The assemblage focused on her, and the mix of startled reactions left Maeve to realize her acting skills might need a bit of fine tuning. Her opt-out plan had failed. Horribly.
“What better time to introduce a song from the new album?” Liam’s answer came wrapped in conviction. “We want to leave your fans looking for more, and new. It’s actually a perfect pre-release strategy for any new album. The gala lends itself to lots of exposure to new listeners. Let’s take advantage of it.”
“I agree. And the song is amazing. I’m all for it.”
Kassidy’s opinion was echoed by everyone else at the table and Maeve’s stomach dropped. This was a nightmare. No way could she sing this song…not when standing next to the ones she had deceived since her fall, and most assuredly not in front of Josh, but she had no choice.
She expelled a breath of air that tossed a curl of hair near her cheek, forcing herself to a point of acceptance. She was an actress. A seasoned performer. She could do this—she had to do this—starting here and now.
“Then I’m with you, of course. It’ll be great. Just offering my two-cents.”
Her smile dawned on perfect cue. She made sure of that. She nodded in acceptance, pushing herself to move on. All the while, the fear brought about within the words of a simple song swept straight through her soul.
Nothing to Hide.
Maeve diverted further by indulging in a long, much-needed draw on her coffee while the Sisters informed Liam of their additional song plans and performance ideas.
“Perfect.” Liam rested from a furious note-taking session. “Since we’re all agreed, I’ll move us on to the next part of our meeting. Legalese. I’ve got the contracts right here, ready for signature.”
“Then it seems I’m right on time.”
Josh strode into the room looking freshly rested—curse him—and fantastic in a simple pair of blue jeans, an untucked dress shirt of blue plaid with a white t-shirt underneath. Maeve set aside her cup so hard and fast it clattered against a ceramic coaster. Blast. Wasn’t that smooth? He sank onto a chair directly across from her, gaze and smile fixed—potent.
The girls covered for her—bless them one and all—though they shot her discreet, questioning looks.
From there, the meeting turned all business. Paperwork swirled, discussions took place about timing and schedules, rehearsals and promotion. Heavy-duty promotion. Promotion the likes of which Maeve had never before experienced. There would be interviews on numerous morning shows—both television and radio, both national and local—along with appearances on an A-list of daytime talk shows the likes of which left her awestruck.
“This is going to be amazing.” Head bent over the PR roster and performance/rehearsal itinerary, Maeve tried to remain grounded while fantasies carried her to the historic floorboards of an opulent stage, to a glittering event at a theatre tucked into the very heart and history of the world’s most art-enthused city...and far away from a song that threatened to unsettle her carefully cultivated foundation.
“Where will we be staying?” Siobhan posed the question, focusing on her brother.
“We’ve got four rooms blocked at the Warwick Hotel. Times Square and the theatre district are an easy walk. Plus, you’ll be central to rehearsal locations and just two miles from the venue.”
“I remember the Warwick from my days in the city.” Maeve addressed the assem
blage. “It’s elegant and classy. Very Euro. There’s lots of crisp marble and warm wood. Great atmosphere and location. I used to love gathering with friends at the Randolph after particularly strong performances.”
“Actually, the Warwick is just a few blocks east of the condo where I’m staying.” Josh crossed his legs and stretched back. “But I’ll be spending most of my time in Long Island.”
“What’s in Long Island?” Curiosity and interest got the better of Maeve before she could strike the internal edit button.
“Quantum Leap. Some folks refer to it as a sports training center.” Josh delivered a rueful wince. “I refer to it as Torture Central.”
Siobhan chuckled. “Sounds like our choreography coach Elizabeth Portier would fit right in. She’s our version of a torture queen. Liam, has she signed on for this performance?”
“Immediately. Claims she’s determined that you all uphold her reputation as a preeminent dance instructor.” Following a shared smirk with Siobhan, Liam addressed Kassidy. “And Drew is meeting us in the city next week. Now that we’re official, I’ll give him the green light to set up a meeting on Monday or Tuesday with the production team at Lincoln Center.”
“He’ll make it incredible.”
Kassidy’s features lit and Maeve smiled, enjoying her friend’s display of bias. Next, her gaze danced to Josh. Coming upon his dark-chocolate gaze stirred a heady, though futile, rush of longing for that level of happiness.
“My goodness—this is real. It’s going to happen.” Aileen’s mood was radiant. She closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Unreal.”
When the meeting concluded, Josh asked the team to assemble in a circle. “If it’s OK, I’d like to offer a prayer for what we’re going to be doing.”
Hands connected in an instant. Heads bowed.
“Jesus, we stand before You in awe and thanksgiving. You give us the opportunities, the gifts, the enthusiasm, to carry Your plans to fruition. Please be with us. Bless our efforts to honor You and show the world Your love. We’re so grateful to You. Amen.”
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