“Quit that. The soul’s wiped clean when we call on Christ and start living for Him. You know that, but it’d be best to start believing it, Chase.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” Properly chastised, Chase met Mark’s probing gaze. “I’m grateful for the reminder. Still, you know better than most that I struggle with self-worth. The whole time I was in rehab, I dreamed of finding my way to a relationship with a woman like Pyper Brock. I dreamed of her before I even met her.” He unloaded a few more groceries. “I’m almost there, Mark. Honest. I’m at the point now where I can almost taste it. I can almost believe in good things to come. I haven’t felt like this since…” He paused to consider. Since before Shayne’s passing? No, long before that. Long before the excess of life in the fast lane had overrun his soul. It had been almost a decade since contentment like this had filled his spirit. “Let’s just say it feels like it’s been forever.”
Expecting a show of affirmation and support, Chase struck a wall of surprise when he looked Mark’s way and came upon a clenched jaw, a troubled shadow through the eyes that wasn’t at all reassuring.
A second later, Mark blinked. He smiled, albeit tiredly, and Chase figured his imagination was simply running wild.
“You’re doin’ real good, Chase. You’ve worked hard, and you’re staying focused. Humble. I couldn’t be prouder, and I couldn’t feel better about where you are and what you’re gonna accomplish. Stay true to that goal, no matter what comes your way in the days and weeks to come.”
Where, exactly, was that coming from? Mark’s tone and tense posture rang with warning and pulled Chase to a halt all over again. Did his friend refer to temptation, or staying true to God? Chase opted to brush off the disquieting vibration. Mark was under a lot of pressure these days—moving, launching a rehab center, starting a new season of life. The combination was more than enough to tax a person to maximum.
Maybe Mark needed a breather. Kellen’s phone call from earlier inspired an idea. “Hey, I’ve got a welcome wagon idea for you. Why not take some time out to hear me play a live set? My agent lined up a gig. Pyper and I will be performing at The Stage in a little over a week. Next Saturday’s the date. Come along and listen in. It’ll give you a chance to see her in person. I’d love for you to meet the Brock family, and Kellen, plus you’ll hear some of my new music.”
“Ordinarily I’d jump at the chance, but I think I better get my feet under me and settle in. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, and I really need to focus on Reach North and make it a huge success. My legacy, you know.”
Chase nodded.
“Next time, OK? Let me know when and where. I’ll be there, and I know I’ll enjoy it.”
“You bet. No pressure. Besides, now that you’re local we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. In fact, Pyper and I intend to perform a song or two at the grand opening of Reach North next month. You’ll meet her and her family at that point for sure, if not before.”
“Yeah. Sure. Sounds good.” Mark rubbed his eyes, heaved a sigh full of exhaustion. The poor guy seemed completely tapped out right now.
Eager to move beyond, Chase shifted the conversation, initiating a discussion of dinner options. There was a small balcony attached to Mark’s second-floor unit, complete with a small gas grill so the idea of hotdogs and hamburgers climbed to the top of the menu. The life-switch from South Carolina to Tennessee seemed to drag on Mark harder than Chase previously realized, but that push of disquiet—stronger this time—took Chase under all over again and he had no choice but to set that recognition aside.
For now.
11
On his way to the Brock farm for a rehearsal session with Pyper and dinner with the Brock family, Chase rocked out with Zach to the song “Shake” by Mercy Me. They laughed and sang loud while Chase navigated his truck and swept along a sparsely traveled two-lane highway that cut through rolling fields rimmed by the peaks, dips and lush valleys of the Smoky Mountains.
Once the music faded, Pyper’s brother edged forward against his seatbelt, casting Chase a wide grin. “Man do I love that song.”
“Me, too. Story of my life.” Chase kept an even, easy touch on the wheel, enjoying the feel of the wind against his face, the sun beating down on his arm through the open window. Life as it should be, he kept thinking. Life as it should be. Shaking free of sinful, earthly chains…
“Thanks again for letting me tag along at the studio today. It was awesome to watch you start work on the album. I still can’t believe the way you let me step up and play along with the musicians.”
“Y’already thanked me, like, a half-dozen times. I pretty much get the picture.” Chase’s tease and affectionate grin earned an eye roll and a light shove to the shoulder from his passenger.
“Seriously. That session was awesome, and your new stuff is solid.”
“Thanks, Z. I hope the team at my label feels the same way. You did a great job; I’m real happy with what we laid down today.”
After the episode he had witnessed between Zach and Alex Monroe’s daughter at the anniversary shindig, Chase battled back and forth between minding his own business and finding a way to step in and be a friend. Someone Zach could turn to outside the family fold…someone he could open up to and listen to when life turned tricky.
The best way to do that, Chase figured, was by embracing the thread of music and performance that bound them with strands of commonality and shared passion. So much like how his bond with Shayne had begun. Nowadays, as production time materialized for the new album, a few ideas came to mind as to how he could mentor Zach, and help ease the way forward onto a good and fruitful path.
Atonement—in a mighty formation.
Chase realized Zach was studying him hard, which kicked aside that contented thought and tripped a few warning wires.
“Can I admit something to you?”
Zach’s question prompted Chase to flick a glance from the road, and he discovered something turbulent in the boy’s eyes.
“Sure. Anything.”
“Between us and stuff.”
“Of course.”
“I’ve been tempted.”
“Tempted?”
Zach huffed, banged a restless fist against a folded knee; he drummed his fingertips. “You may not get it, but, sometimes it’s hard. It’s hard to be the poster child for good behavior and a family that never stumbles, and stands for all these high ideals. We end up being watched all over the place, as if people are just waiting for us to fail.” Zach paused for breath, sidled Chase another gauging look. “I find myself wanting to fight the ropes sometimes. Is that bad? I mean…” Zach shifted, expelled a sigh. “I mean…I think you’re cool, Chase.”
“Big mistake there.” And he made sure his tone conveyed utter sincerity.
Zach shot him a bland look. “No, hear me out a sec. I know what you mean, and I know where you’re going with that warning. You got into trouble, but you made it through. You stand on your own and you’re real. You own your life. I admire that.”
“Yeah, I own it, all right. For better or for worse, and I’ve seen plenty of both. Don’t think more of me than what I am, Zach. Hear?” Chase’s heart quickened and a growing buzz sounded in his ears. Careful. Be very, very careful. “Tell me what you’re going through. You say you’ve been tempted. What are you getting at?”
Zach’s chest rose and fell on a deep breath. “Well. Like…”
Chase waited, allowing the silence to force Zach out a bit.
At last the youngster shrugged and ground out a sound. “OK, so, here it is. I’m Tyler Brock’s kid.”
“Yeah.”
“And I’m Pyper Brock’s little brother. A guy in her band.”
“Yeah. And there’s nothing wrong with those facts.”
“Nope.”
Zach shot him a fast, intent look that simmered with conflicted emotion, even in the brief moment Chase took his eyes off the road.
“Thing is? I’m Zach. I’m trying to figure out
who Zach Brock is, and…well…I’m just not sure right now. I mean, I don’t want to be some kind of second-rate, carbon copy of my dad, no matter how great he is, and I don’t want to live in Pyper’s shadow, either. I’ve been tempted to just try things on my own. Maybe intrigue people by doing something totally different than my family would ever expect, or…I mean, you’ve done so much, Chase.” There Zach stalled.
Chase picked up the ball in a hurry. “Like I already said, don’t follow my lead. At all. I paid for every wrong move I’ve ever made, and I paid dearly. Rebellion might seem an alluring antidote to feeling displaced, but it won’t work over the long haul. Trust me on that.”
“I’m not talking about turning my back on things like faith and family—but I want to build my own life. There are people I’ve met who are so cool, and they play hard and work hard and that outlook appeals to me. I like the idea of taking charge and exploring on my own terms. I’m tempted to follow my own ideas, see where they take me.”
Chase recognized the drill and understood all too well the lure of diverting from expectation. Heaven help him if he fouled up this interlude. “OK, Zach. My turn. Can I let you in on a secret?”
“Sure. Absolutely.”
“I saw you with Kim at the Monroe’s anniversary party. She’s a beauty. You guys seemed pretty caught up in each other.”
“Ah…yeah.” Red color spread across Zach’s angular features. “She’s gorgeous, and she’s into me. I like that. A lot. She’s not afraid to horse around, do stuff, and let life take care of itself.” He raked back a shaggy tumble of dark blonde hair and speared Chase with a look. “But…you know…I’m listening.”
“Here’s the secret.” How to phrase this exactly? In visual terms, Kim had poured herself over Zach like sweet honey with her innocent yet alluring lace dress, that flowing auburn hair and all that come-hither, touchy-touchy close proximity. Then, there were those impassioned kisses and caresses, the tight body language that made it obvious Zach was swept into her current, and eager to be carried away. “Life doesn’t take care of itself, Z. And, feeling good for ten seconds isn’t worth ten years’ worth of pain. Take it from someone who walked the path and didn’t like where it ended.”
After thinking that through for a moment or two, Zach relaxed, and he laughed. “You talk like a song.”
Just like that, the seriousness of their conversation broke like the wake of lake water. A laugh rolled up from Chase’s chest. “I suppose I do. Call it a job hazard, smart aleck.” Instinct kicked in, prompting him to not let the topic drop. “Speaking of songs, you’ve got some serious chops as a guitarist.”
“You think so?”
“Without question. How committed could you be to learning new material? Can you handle six or seven new songs?”
“For you? No doubt. Why?”
“Because if you can handle it, I’d like you to join my studio band. You wouldn’t be able to tour or perform at most of the live shows because you’re too young for the venues I’d start at, but you could be part of ‘Forgiveness’. I think today was a huge success. You’ve got great interpretive instincts and your riffs are wicked.”
“Are you serious? I can’t even believe this!”
“I’m very serious. You have a gift, Z, and that gift doesn’t come from your daddy, or your sister. It comes from God, and it’s all yours.” Chase liked the spark of excitement that lit Zach’s eyes, but felt compelled to issue a warning. “It’s going to be intense. I need your promise to keep focused and learn a whole lot of new material. There’d be lots of practice sessions, too.” He paused a beat. “Still interested?”
Zach nodded emphatically. “Ah…yeah. Completely.”
“It’s got to clear channels with your folks.”
“That’ll be fine.” He shrugged off the caveat. “Chase, this is incredible.”
“Glad you like the idea. Let’s see what we can do together. My concluding advice? If you want to try some experimenting, experiment with music. With creation. Use what you love, not something that may seem tempting but is actually pretty dark and destructive. Y’know?”
Zach shrugged and nodded, but Chase grabbed comfort from the way the kid absorbed the message and seemed to take it to heart.
For the time being, anyway.
The doorbell chimed and Pyper dashed to the front entryway. “I’ve got it.”
She opened the heavy wood door to Chase and Zach who had obviously forgotten his key. Again. Her brother sidled past with a friendly grin and a playful shove. Pyper gave him a shove right back, but paid him no further notice because standing before her, framed in the threshold of her home, Chase formed a striking image. He held a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers, their long stems wrapped in green tissue paper.
“Ah.” In a heady instant, Pyper lost her figurative footing; a flood of heat cut loose through her body.
“Yeah. Ah, hey.” He looked over her shoulder.
It comforted her somehow that Chase didn’t seem to be in much better shape. That helped Pyper find her poise. She opened the door wide, gesturing him inside. “I’m so sorry. I generally have better hostess skills than this. Welcome. Come on in.”
Tentative steps led him into the foyer. “Something smells great.”
Pyper pushed for ease, but continued to tremble on the inside. “My aunt, Ruthie Newman, passed the recipe on to mom long ago. Chicken-veggie stew is a staple around here.”
“Sounds great.” With endearing boyishness, he thrust the bouquet her way. “These are for your mom. Thought she might enjoy them. It was kind of y’all to invite me.”
Pyper didn’t accept. Instead, she stepped back to lead him to the kitchen where she could hear her parents chatting as they prepared dinner. Delivery honors definitely needed to be extended to her mom directly.
“Oh, and, ah, this is for you,” he continued.
Pyper’s progress stalled and she turned. Wrapped separately and tucked behind the large sunflower arrangement was a long-stemmed, pale pink rose surrounded by greenery and a delicate spray of white baby’s breath. Chase handed her the bloom, his features kissed by a sense of careful reserve.
Pyper stared at him, wordless, charmed. When he passed her the flower, their fingertips connected. Before she could even help it, a welcoming thaw began within the darkest, deepest trench of her heart. Tingles of delight left her smiling. She buried her nose in fragrant sweetness. “Thank you, Chase. How beautiful.”
His return smile charged her senses. She continued to the kitchen. “Mom? Dad? Chase is here.”
“Chase, it’s good to see you. Welcome.” Tyler stepped forward, offering a ready handshake. Her mother exclaimed over the flowers and stationed them promptly in a vase. Pyper, meanwhile, clung to her rose, wrapping her head around the fact that Chase was in her home, part of the family for a time, part of sharing some music, some food and…affection. That’s what threw her. The care. The emotion behind it all.
In passing, her mom gave Pyper’s arm a discreet nudge and glanced at the rose. “Would you like a vase, Pyp?”
“Oh…ah, sure. Please, Mom—thanks.”
OK, that was the most awkward response in history. When she brushed past Chase to accept a crystal bud holder, their gazes caught and held. Closer and closer she inched to a fire she couldn’t yet begin to understand—or avoid.
“Mmm…this dinner makes me miss Aunt Ruthie a little less. She walks through the dining room door every time we have her chicken stew. It’s wonderful, Mama.”
“Thanks, Pyp.” An ocean of love circled the table, reflected most vividly in the depths of Amy’s eyes when her gaze touched upon Pyper.
Chase responded deeply to those layers of affection. “How long since she passed?” Chase settled a freshly buttered roll on his plate then wiped his fingertips on a cheery yellow napkin before returning it to his lap.
“She’s been gone a couple years now.” Amy sighed. “I miss that big, generous h
eart of hers. She helped me settle in and find my feet when I left Michigan behind.”
Interest piqued, Chase turned his attention to Tyler. “I remember reading somewhere that you stayed with her when you went through the reality competition that launched your career. Is that right?”
“I did. She opened her home to me, and it became my safe haven during all the madness that followed.”
“Tell us about your family, Chase.” Amy dished herself a second helping of salad. “You Tennessee born-and-bred?”
“Yes, ma’am. Murfreesboro. My folks still live there. They stood by me when I hit bottom, and they were good about raising me right. Thing is, they couldn’t really take away the loneliness I felt, and they weren’t overly emotional people. Still they were solid. Dependable.”
“I remember reading somewhere you were an only child.” Seated next to Chase, Pyper gave him a prompting smile.
“Yep. Mom was a seamstress. Dad was an accountant. Left brain, right brain—all their friends teased them about it. I suppose I inherited the creativity gene from my mama. I loved music from day one. My folks loved to joke that I was always hooked up to something listening to music.”
Tyler’s laughter filled the air. “I contended with that issue myself. What’s your favorite?”
“I like it all, sir, truly. Rock, country, soft and sweet or driving and intense. Doesn’t seem to matter. The beat, the melodies, the lyrics are what speak to me. I couldn’t afford lessons or anything, so I relied on the good hearts of my music teachers in school to show me how to read notes, learn keys and timing and chords.”
“They did a good job, Chase.”
A silence passed; Chase studied Pyper’s mom in pleased surprise. Unexpected affirmations still startled him, even after the successes he had enjoyed—especially coming from people he respected. Earning the praise of yes-men was easy, and fake. Winning the praise of people he admired was far more meaningful and hard-fought.
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