by Ava Miles
“I told Tommy that the only thing with the power to get us through tragedy was grace,” Reverend Louisa said, scanning the church anew.
Jake sat up straighter. Grace, huh? He couldn’t remember what the word even meant. Where was this grace thing the day Booker had died? Hadn’t he asked God to save his friend? The scar on his shoulder burned as anger spiked through his system.
A small hand nudged its way under his own large one, jarring him out of the familiar spiral. He looked down to see Annabelle grabbing his hand.
“It’s okay, Jake,” she whispered, her doll-eyed baby blues staring at him. “You just listen to Grandmamma.”
His throat closed in shock. How had she known he was upset? He wasn’t sure if he should keep holding her hand. She was so little, and he might hurt her without intending it. But when he tried to free himself, she squeezed his hand with all her strength and gave him a look that conveyed she meant business.
He turned back to listen, but felt Susannah watching him out of the corner of her eye. Would she follow the little one’s lead and take his other hand? Every time he was around her, he wanted to hold it. Somehow he always felt weightless when they held hands, almost like he was swimming in ocean water, which was totally crazy.
“Grace means a lot of things to a lot of people, and certainly the Bible talks about it more than its fair share. When I think of grace, I think of those moments when I’m struggling, and someone appears all of the sudden to help. Or when I’m hurting over a loss and my heart eases. Grace steals over you like the night wind. You don’t know where it’s coming from, but it’s welcome.”
Jake fought down his cynicism. There hadn’t been many moments of peace associated with Booker’s death. For all that he’d relived it over and over again in his stint with therapy or his lingering dreams, he’d never once said, “I’m okay with this.” Maybe he never would. Deep down, he wondered if he even should. When someone died tragically, no one could Pollyanna that away—at least not without making Jake want to punch them in the mouth.
He lowered his head, prepared to tune out Reverend Louisa. But Annabelle shifted beside him and crawled into his lap, keeping his hand clutched in hers. She stared into his eyes again—and he nearly jumped out of his seat. She didn’t look like a five-year-old now. More like a wise woman in the body of a child.
“Listen to her, Jake,” Annabelle whispered, patting his chest with her other hand. “She’ll comfort you.”
The whole thing was sweet, he tried to tell himself, but the back of his neck was hot with embarrassment. He hadn’t stopped sweating. And really…he didn’t know this little girl well enough to have her perched on his lap.
J.P. tried to remove her, but Annabelle swatted his hand away and shook her head, her little face mulish. Jake glanced at J.P. for help, but his friend only shrugged. Noticing that even more people had eyes on him, Jake nodded. He even gave a tight smile. This child had gumption, and she had it in her head she was going to help him, it seemed.
He turned back to Reverend Louisa, who was still spouting off about all that grace stuff. The words “hog swallop” passed through his mind, and anger crested in his blood. He wanted to walk out of the church and never come back, but Annabelle laid her head back against his chest, caging him in. Keeping him there.
He shifted again and caught Susannah looking on with a wrinkled brow. Who could blame her? It was like everyone knew he was coming apart, and over something as simple as a sermon on grace.
He should never have come to church.
“Some of you may be thinking I’m making grace out to be more powerful than it is,” Reverend Louisa said, and it was like she’d hit a bulls-eye on his chest. “You think that I’m a foolish old lady who doesn’t know what loss means. Well, I’ve cried over things I never thought could be put right again. Cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. I’ve even yelled at God and asked, ‘Why?’ And then, each time, I would remember the problem wasn’t for me to fix, whether I’d had a share in creating it or not.”
Jake stilled in the pew. It was like the woman was reading his mind.
“I decided it wasn’t always for me to understand why something had happened to hurt me and mine. God’s ways are mysterious, and I can honestly tell you I’m not always comfortable with the mystery, with the unknown whys and what-fors.”
Someone gave an “Amen,” and another person echoed it.
The Reverend tapped the lectern. “Those questions drive me plumb crazy sometimes. Why in the world would a thirty-two year old woman die in a car crash? What purpose could that possibly serve in the grand scheme of things? I told Tommy I didn’t know why he’d lost his wife, but I did know there was a power greater than himself that could help him heal from the loss and move forward with his life.”
Jake felt a familiar rush of sadness rise within him, one which made his rage seem small in comparison. He missed his friend. He couldn’t even watch the Arkansas Razorbacks play football anymore because of all his memories of watching games with Booker.
“To move forward, we sometimes have to stop asking why. Stop shaking our fists at the heavens. What’s done is done. It wasn’t fair. It likely wasn’t our fault. But now is the time to dig deep into ourselves and find out why we can’t move on if we’re stuck in the past like an old truck in a ditch.”
Anger spurted inside him again. Was Reverend Louisa saying this was his fault? That since he hadn’t been able to move on, he was wrong? His skin prickled.
“I asked the man what scared him most, and he told me he feared he would never find another woman who could hold a candle to his wife. He was afraid he’d never marry again, never have children. He was afraid he’d die alone.”
Booker hadn’t died alone, and that was one thing for which Jake felt grateful.
“I told Tommy that grace might surprise him some day. That as he continued on with the business of living, he might be surprised by how events unfolded. But he had to be willing to keep living. Some of us wall ourselves off from the world after a tragedy. Even if we’re out and about in the world, running our errands and going to work, we stop living and merely exist. We stop connecting to people out of fear. And when that happens, my friends, we might as well be made of clay and not flesh and blood.”
It was as if she had written the words for him alone. Other than when Jake was on stage singing his heart out, he felt like he was mostly drifting through life. His music was his purpose, but when it came down to it, he knew it wasn’t enough. He wanted love and laughter and family. Should he simply stop beating himself up and ask Susannah out on a date? Get on with the business of living and trust that the nightmares and the guilt and the horror would one day stop? The temptation to look at Susannah was strong.
“Fear takes us in the opposite direction of love, friends,” Reverend Louisa continued. “And love is all there is when it comes down to it. Take a minute with me. When you lay your head down on your pillow after a hard day at work, what brings a smile to your face? The way you helped a colleague? The kind word a stranger had for you on the street? A phone call from a good friend? A kiss from a loved one?”
Jake knew all the mumbo jumbo about happiness. Had even read some books about it. Deep down, he knew that everyone wanted to be happy. He did too. It just wasn’t always that easy.
“What makes you really happy?” the Reverend asked again. “Who makes you happy?”
Locking his muscles so he wouldn’t turn to Susannah, Jake thought about how seeing her, holding hands with her, sitting next to her—even here in this church—made him happy. Despite the fact that he wanted to run away from all this grace stuff and this Reverend who seemed to see into his very soul.
“If you’re sitting next to someone who makes you happy, go ahead and tell them,” Reverend Louisa called out.
Jake felt rooted to the spot when Annabelle turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You make me happy, Jake.”
Well, slap him upside the head with a 2-by-4 because he couldn�
�t imagine what he’d done to make this little girl happy. Rye turned around and grinned at him, making a heart over his chest like a teenage girl might. The silly grin on his friend’s face tore a reluctant laugh out of Jake’s mouth, but it cut off the instant he felt Susannah brush his hand.
He couldn’t have stopped himself from turning to her then. She didn’t say the words to him, but he felt her emotions in the soft way she looked at him. There were stars in her eyes, surely, and he felt transported to a place that…well, if he’d been writing a song, he would have called it paradise.
For a moment, it was hard to swallow, and when the choir started playing “Amazing Grace” as the Reverend walked to her seat, Jake couldn’t look away from Susannah’s moss-green eyes.
Chapter 6
As far as Susannah was concerned, Annabelle was a little miracle worker. She’d watched her soon-to-be niece work her magic on her brother’s tough-guy friends, Rye Crenshaw and Clayton Chandler.
But her heart had swelled fit to burst when Annabelle climbed onto Jake’s lap during Mama’s sermon and whispered that he needed to listen to her grandmamma… Even though they’d given each other plenty of room in the pew, Susannah had felt him go rigid beside her. The urge to reach out to him had been so great, but she’d suppressed it.
People were watching, after all, and it wasn’t appropriate.
Now, he was joking with her brother and the rest of his friends in the church hall. His hand brandished a glazed donut dripping with sugar, and while his smile seemed full, it was forced. She knew his smiles now, she realized, and her heart pounded harder in her chest with that knowledge.
“He became pretty upset during my sermon,” her mama whispered to her.
Reverend Louisa had finished greeting the members of her congregation after church before joining Susannah.
“I know. It might have touched home.”
“It might have just,” her mama simply said, looking over at the men standing in the corner. “I’m glad no one has asked for his autograph. We want him to feel welcome here even though my sermon might have made him want to head for the hills.”
Indeed it did, she thought, but refrained from saying it. “You were pretty clever to scoot Sadie and Shelby along so you could talk to me about this. Asking them to pick up more donuts indeed.”
“I’m also keeping people from overtly asking you if you’re dating Jake,” her mama said with a knowing look. “You recall the older women pestering you about getting married.”
Yes, she did. For a Southern woman, being unmarried at thirty was akin to becoming a spinster. She’d stopped attending fellowship after services because of it. But her brother had talked her into coming back by promising to keep the well-intentioned old biddies at bay. So far, he’d done a good job.
“Are the men keeping people from bothering Jake about coming here with me?” she asked.
“What do you think, honey?” her mama replied.
A soft sigh floated out. It was kinda sweet of them.
“Let’s go chat with the men before Sadie and Shelby return,” Mama said. “They know they’re on a fool’s errand, but they won’t complain.”
“Much,” Susannah said, which made them both laugh.
Her mama took her hand and led her over to the area where J.P., Rye, and Clayton stood huddled around Jake. It was pretty interesting, watching the men protect one of their own. She and her sisters sometimes did that sort of thing at a bar when they went out to listen to music in Nashville.
“Well now,” her mama began as the circle opened to welcome them. “How’s everyone doing this morning?”
“Good,” everyone answered, almost speaking in tandem.
Well, everyone but Jake. His shoulders had turned to stone again.
“We’re mighty happy to have you here, Jake,” her mama said, eyeing the man with that compassionate gaze for which she was rightly famous. It held a person. Most people melted. Jake’s eyes only narrowed at the corners.
“Thank you, Reverend,” he said easily—a bit too easily. “Susannah was kind to invite me.”
“We’d love for you to join us at Sunday dinner this afternoon,” her mama said, bold as brass. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”
Whoa. Mama definitely had something on her mind. Susannah had to force herself not to intercede and give Jake an out. J.P. met her eyes and shook his head only once. He knew Mama’s ways too. She was not a woman to be reckoned with when she had a notion in her head.
“I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family affair, ma’am,” Jake replied, clearing his throat.
“It’s no intrusion.” Mama patted his forearm. “We’ll see you at two. J.P. can give you the details.” And then she sauntered off with an extra sway in her hips, more than pleased with herself.
Jake looked at Susannah. “I’m…that’s…a family affair.”
J.P. was biting his lip to keep from smiling. “You heard my mama. She won’t take no for an answer. We’re having dinner at Rye’s house. That’s why Tory left right after the service with Amelia Ann, Tammy, and the kids. They’re preparing something special for us.”
Jake didn’t look convinced, but he nodded crisply.
Rye slapped him on the back. “Don’t worry, bubba. The Reverend won’t baptize you out in Dare River unless you ask her.”
Clayton barked out a laugh, but he cut it off when Jake shot him a look.
“Mama hasn’t baptized anyone in Dare River yet, Jake,” her brother murmured, “so I think you’re safe.”
“I’ve already been baptized,” Jake said, looking off in the direction of the exits, like he was planning on making a break for it.
Susannah wasn’t sure how best to comfort him—whether she should walk him out or simply hold his hand.
“I have an idea,” Rye said, wrapping his arm around Jake’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come on over now? We can play some music together. After that charity concert, our fans have been begging us to write a song together. Perhaps it’s time now that the holidays are behind us.”
“Perhaps it is,” Jake said, smiling a sight more easily now. “A collaboration would be fun.”
Rye drew J.P. to him by slinging a meaty arm around her brother’s shoulder. “This one can help us write it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” J.P. mused, stroking his chin. “We’ll need a theme.”
“How about family?” Rye suggested. “We seem to be growing by leaps and bounds.”
Clayton’s grin was pretty dazzling. “Like pond frogs in springtime.”
At first, Susannah hadn’t been so sure Clayton was a good fit for her friend Amelia Ann. But his signature toughness had melted away like butter on hot cornbread. Now he seemed like the perfect match for the determined law school student who championed women’s rights by volunteering in one of Nashville’s leading legal clinics.
“Family, huh?” Jake said, tightening up again. “We can brainstorm ideas later. I need to…bring some flowers or a bottle of wine to the dinner.”
“You don’t need to bring squat, bubba,” Rye said, rolling his eyes. “Do I look like the kind of man who enjoys wine and flowers?”
Everyone laughed, and Jake gave Rye a playful shove. “You always struck me as the yellow roses type. Maybe a lover of white wine.”
Rye released both men and clutched his heart. “You know me too well. Feel free to bring some by. I’m going to head out now that I’ve had my donut quota for the day. Tory might need me to lift something heavy for her.”
Susannah gave Rye a look. “You are such a pig sometimes.”
He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “But you love me anyway.”
“True.” She kissed him back.
“Besides, I’d lift something heavy for you too, if you needed it,” Rye said with a wink before turning on his heel and taking off toward the front of the church. “See y’all later. Clayton, I’d like red roses from you.”
“In your dreams, Crenshaw,” Clayton replied. “What I’d say i
f we weren’t still in a church.”
“But you are, so you’d better keep it clean,” J.P. said with a grin. “Save it for later. I’m off too. Rye might offer to lift heavy items, but he hates kitchen duty. I’m pretty good at chopping vegetables myself.”
“A champion,” Susannah agreed. After their daddy left, J.P. had taken on some of the housework duties to help their mama.
“I’m going to head out too,” Clayton said. “Jake, we’ll see you later. Don’t fuss too much about coming. It’s only terrifying for the first twenty minutes or so.”
“Oh, stop that,” Susannah said, making a shooing motion at him.
He pretended to fall backward and then shot them a charming smile before taking off.
“You really don’t need to bring anything,” Susannah told Jake.
“Bring what where?” Sadie asked, rushing up to the group with Shelby in tow. Mama’s task hadn’t taken them near long enough.
“Mama invited Jake to join us for dinner today,” J.P. said in a steady voice, one that matched the steely look in his eyes.
Their sisters both playfully batted their eyelashes at him since they knew J.P. was issuing a warning. After all, her brother had once overheard them calling Jake Mr. Sex-On-A-Stick.
“How lovely,” Shelby said in a voice that could have beat Bette Davis out of the Best Actress Oscar for her role in the Southern classic, Jezebel.
Susannah wanted to pinch her. Sadie bounced in her heels, and J.P. put his hand on her arm to calm her.
“Too much sugar in the donuts? Sugar?” her brother asked her.
“Oh, poo,” Sadie commented. “You’re so mean sometimes. We’ll look forward to seeing you later today, Jake.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” J.P. said, giving their fan-frenzy sisters a pointed look.
“That’s mighty kind of you,” Jake said. “Ladies. I’ll see you later, it seems.”
He looked at each of the sisters in turn, his eyes meeting Susannah’s for a tad longer, and then inclined his head and walked off with their brother.