Forgiveness

by Marianne Evans

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “I’m Amy. Please.”

  Chase dipped his head, his lips curving in a shy form of acknowledgement. “Don’t mean to be so formal. Believe it or not, I was raised to be a southern gentleman—and always show proper respect.”

  “How could…” Amy stopped speaking, folded her hands beneath her chin and studied the table top.

  “How could I have back-peddled so far?”

  Amy’s answer to that was a chagrinned look in his direction; meanwhile Chase held the undivided attention of everyone at the table.

  “I was lonely and pretty quiet as a kid. I was non-descript, workin’ to get by. But then came music. Then came my friendship with Shay and our band. Music. Music fueled a fire I didn’t even know could rage so hot, or be so consuming—for better and for worse.

  “I fell into a trap of my own creation, never realizing the harm until it was way too late. I was handed implicit acceptance, monster success, adulation.”

  “Scariest masters around.”

  Tyler’s interjection earned a firm nod from Chase.

  “It’s a tough battle to win,” Tyler continued, “But you did it, and you did it well, sir. I admire that.”

  Sincerity flavored every word. So did longing. Chase thought fleetingly of Zach, who polished off a roll and forked some salad greens, devouring his meal with typical teen-style gusto. During the drive home, Zach had admitted to hero worship. It occurred to Chase now that, in much the same way, he emulated Tyler Brock.

  Tyler studied Chase for a long, intent moment. “Coming back strong is just as important a victory, Chase. Keep that in mind, and keep it up. You’ve got friends, you’ve got support, and you’ve got God. Lean on ’em all.”

  “That’s my plan.” Chase pictured himself easing into the lines and pages of Pyper’s family. All of a sudden he found it tough to swallow against the lump that tightened his throat, so he hoped the large, easy smile he wore spoke volumes about the place where he now found himself.

  12

  After dinner, Chase made a quick dash to his truck to retrieve sheet music for “Forgiveness.” Back inside, he followed Pyper to Tyler’s music room where her dad had just tabled a trio of glasses filled with lemonade. The space was acoustically insulated, squared off neatly, and lined by guitars in stands. A coffee table was strewn with sheet music covered by notes and lyrics in what appeared to be Tyler’s bold script. Walls were decorated by framed albums and awards. Then, there were shelves with even more awards, and a plush area rug where a group of leather seats begged a person to sink in, strap on a guitar, and go with the flow.

  Chase crossed the entryway and never wanted to leave. This was where Pyper had come of age as a musician, cultivated a God-given gift under the loving and expert hand of her father. Chase twined his fingers against Pyper’s, giving them a slight squeeze. The gesture drew her focus and for a second or two, he lost himself in her eyes.

  Tyler handed him a guitar then sat forward on the edge of a nearby seat, strapping on a guitar of his own. “What I love are those moments when the whole writing process sort of just takes you by storm. When a simple inspiration leads to the creation of the exact melody, the words, the beat you were after in your heart.”

  Chase nodded and sat in the chair next to Tyler’s. In unison, they began to tune their instruments. “Just enough of those moments come along to keep you satisfied, but at the same time leave you hungry for more.” Chase wondered if the same kind of mind-set applied to what he felt for Pyper. She had settled cross-legged on the floor between their two chairs, a feminine delight, to be sure, yet so much more. All at once, those self-doubts he had discussed with Mark rose up like ghosts. This was a fantasy. A glimpse of the kind of joy that would keep him hungry for a long, long time…

  “After the Opry event, I was so on fire I came home and started writing,” Tyler said. “Everything came fast and furious and perfect. I don’t think my head found a pillow ’til early morning. The words, the melody, just flowed through my mind and flew off my fingers, know what I mean?”

  “I do at that.” Chase strummed. He grinned, savored being able to improvise as Tyler interjected simple chords and a steady, building rhythm. “I call it heaven.”

  “So do I.”

  “You mentioned wanting to try out ‘Forgiveness’, so I brought the sheet music.”

  “Great.”

  “Can I take a look?”

  Pyper extended a hand and for the strangest reason, he focused on her slim, creamy wrist, and long, tapered fingers that he could feel in a beckoning caress… He forced words past his lips. “Sure. Have at it.”

  Chase passed off the pages, and Pyper bent her head in study, twirling an errant wave of hair around her finger.

  Chase shook free of the desire that licked fire against his gut. Sure the Brock’s were kind-spirited and genial, but he couldn’t imagine for even a quick second that they’d be pleased by any romantic intentions on his part. Forcing himself from her pull, Chase initiated a run-through of the song. They finessed the word play, worked at the refrain, and then Pyper added a batch of freshly-created words in answer to verse one of the song, which were so skilled and seamless she earned an even larger dose of Chase’s respect.

  Tyler kept time and added his own thoughts as the song continued to take shape from the rough cut Chase had provided to Imperion weeks ago. In the end, the blend delivered a spread of chills against his skin. Man, had he missed this kind of collaboration.

  Tyler kept his fingers moving against the guitar strings, nodding in acceptance of their latest efforts. “You’ve definitely got a winning theme; the melody is rock solid, but I keep coming back to the words.”

  “Yeah. I agree.” Chase’s joy faded a bit. “Words were always Shay’s domain.”

  “Not necessarily, Chase. Yours are great. All they need is an infusion of hope. What Pyper added just a bit ago was the perfect answer to your first verse. Kind of like heaven’s answer as we struggle with sin, know what I mean?”

  Chase and Pyper ran through the song one more time with Tyler accompanying.

  Too much time wasted to be young again.

  Too much time wasted to taste pure again.

  To ever be worth the Father’s gift…

  Forgiveness…forgiveness…

  The word echo blended his voice to Pyper’s; it reverberated, full of questioning, full of a battle to find self-worth and a spot in God’s world despite falling down. Pyper found her way to the next verse.

  Don’t you dare believe that lie,

  Life’s too precious to let go by…

  Forgiveness….forgiveness…

  Reach out for forgiveness…forgiveness

  From there, their voices synched into a blended harmony.

  Don’t cower behind a thick, brick wall.

  God’s determined to see it fall…

  Forgiveness …forgiveness…

  Reach out for…forgiveness, forgiveness.

  Their voices blended once more.

  I see how precious love can be…

  That’s what I want for you and me.

  Forgiveness, forgiveness…

  Let’s find our way to

  Forgiveness, forgiveness…forgiveness.

  In the end, Tyler delivered a short, appreciative whistle. “Great back-and-forth. I almost hate to say it, Chase, but it seems to me like you have another duet on your hands with this one.”

  The observation was spot-on, and Chase knew exactly why the song worked so much better now. In tandem with Pyper—with the woman he longed to reach out to and pursue—the aching redemption that was so intrinsic to the song coursed through every note he sang.

  “Seems there’s part of me that’s incomplete.”

  “Maybe so.”

  Tyler spoke, but what Chase noticed was Pyper’s retreat, the way a hint of wariness tossed shutters against the natural light of her eyes.

  “I dunno. Even though I’ve recovered”—he made
a pair of air quotes—“maybe the words for my new stuff are one-sided because I’m still searching for something.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with searching if it leads you to what’s good.”

  Pyper’s decree caused him to home in on her exclusively. He maintained her focus with nothing more than a steady, engaging look. “Let’s try it one more time, OK?”

  “Sure.”

  She added a light shrug, so obviously unintimidated and sure of herself when it came to music and performance. For some reason Chase felt compelled to throw her a slight curve ball…

  “Pyper? You know this song well enough. Leave the pages behind. Look at me. Look into my eyes.”

  He kept the summons quiet, tender but firm. All the same, her hesitance marked each beat of the second hand on the wall clock while she visibly debated, then lifted her eyes to his.

  “Now,” he beckoned softly, “sing.”

  Their gazes never wavered. They sang to one another, lost in that intimate emotion which only shared melody and shared lyrics could bring to life. It didn’t matter to Chase that Pyper’s father sat just a few feet away, that her mother rustled through the kitchen just beyond the threshold. This moment, its bond, belonged to him and Pyper alone. This was good. This was pure.

  His heart rocked into an unsteady, thundering beat, promise brimming, hope cresting…

  We’ll find the passion, find the joy.

  When we get and when we give

  Forgiveness…forgiveness…

  All we need is forgiveness…forgiveness…

  

  The intense exchange left Pyper drained, yet in paradox, a flow of invigorating energy sailed through her system. Working with Chase was beyond incredible.

  He expelled a breath and shook his head, delivering a sheepish grin. “With that I think we can ramp down the intensity a bit, maybe figure out a couple more songs for our gig at The Stage.” Lightening the mood further, he stood and stretched. “I spied a grand piano in the next room. Are we allowed to put it to good use?”

  Pyper tilted her head, looked way up and lost herself in the deep, dark allure of his eyes. “I think that can be arranged.”

  He offered his hand and lifted her to her feet with ease. “Let’s sing for fun. Without all the push. Just us.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Her father stood as well. “I’m going to check in on Amy. Y’all enjoy.”

  Pyper led the way to the living room and took a seat on the cool, glossy bench of a black walnut grand piano. Chase settled against its far edge, hooking the guitar strap around his neck once again. His back was to her, but they remained close enough that they touched, brushing slightly as they moved. His warmth and an earthy, masculine wood-spice enveloped her at once.

  “Want to hear a story?” Pyper’s fingers began a timeless dance against the ebony and ivory keys. “A story about when I was little?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Tune up. I’ll give you the pitch.” Pyper struck ‘E’ and Chase plucked, twisted pegs, refined tone until his guitar was properly tuned. “On my first visit to Tennessee, the first time I met Tyler, I got stung by a bee. I was all alone with him because my mama had gone shopping with Aunt Ruthie. I was playing outside while Tyler gardened, and when I kicked my rubber ball, I upset a pack of bees. When I got stung, I was terrified. More so of what Tyler might do to me than the pain of the venom.”

  Chase had begun an improvised melody that came to an abrupt halt. “Pyp, he’d never hurt you.”

  “Oh, I know that now. But back then? All I knew at the age of four was a man’s rage if I ever dared to cry or step out of line or interfere with his world in any way. Anyhow, after I got stung, Tyler wrapped me in hugs, in love, and he bound my wound—in more ways than I can ever express. After? We came right here, and he let me play this piano.

  “This very spot is where my life began, Chase. The life I live now, the life I live in full, started that day. I was dazzled. I couldn’t believe he’d let me anywhere near this gorgeous instrument.” Her fingers swept along. “It was a defining moment in my life. Sealed my fate, I think. In that time, I found joy. I found music, and I found out what a father’s love is really like. Right then and there I became Tyler’s protégée. I knew music would be a huge part of my life.”

  “Pyp?” Chase leaned back just far enough to give her a fortifying nudge. “I’m so sorry for the past, for the pain it caused you.”

  Pyper fought to swallow against a fast-building lump in her throat. “I am, too, but the past gave me now. I wouldn’t trade the life I have with Tyler and my mama.” She polished their brief piece of improv with a flourishing twinkle of the keys.

  “Here’s something else.” Chase maintained a steady gaze. “You can’t put in what God left out. Musically, you’re gifted. You’re blessed. God knew just how to bring that to life.” He chuckled. “You know, I was just thinking. Musically, I’ve always been a six-string man.”

  “And for me, because of that moment with Tyler, the piano reigns supreme.”

  “Seems that way. You know what that means?”

  “No.”

  “Together we’re a great combination.”

  For an instant, Pyper froze. A great combination. Perhaps a lifelong combination? Was God tuning and blending much more than music between them? Hope—expectation—took hold as the idea burst free and glanced against her heart.

  Chase continued to look over his shoulder, watching as her fingertips returned to drifting against the keys. “Whatcha feel like?”

  “How about ‘Better Than a Hallelujah’?” The song choice came out of nowhere, an inspiration that simply struck home. Pyper started to play; the piano intro had always been a favorite riff of hers. When Chase added his guitar, when the verse kicked in, the moment carried to her in a Spirit-filled flow Pyper could only attribute to God Himself. They ended up spontaneously alternating verses. Chase sang of a drunkard’s cry; Pyper sang of beautiful messes transformed by Christ.

  The mix of their voices, the connection they shared when exploring each layer of the song, gave her tingles of elation. She wanted to do this again—and again—just jam with him, make music, create. She wanted to share moments like this—moments that were revealing and powerful.

  By the end of the song, emotion nearly grabbed the best of her. Tears built and stung once the last notes faded to silence, so she caught her breath. She closed her eyes, re-finding center as Chase bumped against her shoulder, deliberately calling her attention. When she looked his way, she found herself captured within a tender, beckoning gaze.

  “You. Are. Good.”

  Pyper rested her head against his shoulder, her smile lighting to full-beam. “Same to you. That was a lot of fun.”

  Only then did Pyper realize they were no longer alone. Soft applause filled the room, coming from the threshold, from her parents. Shy and awkward, Pyper moved away from Chase, fingering back the thick fall of her hair while heat seeped across her neck and cheeks. Being with him this way came so easy…and felt so beautiful. Pyper’s wistful spirit yearned.

  Chase cleared his throat and seemed to shake free of the moment. She appreciated his discretion and nod to propriety. After all, this was, for the most part, a professional endeavor, right? She puzzled on the topic for a moment while her dad settled an arm around her mother’s shoulders. “After hearing that, and your combined take on ‘Forgiveness,’ I know Kellen’s on the mark. The two of you are going to be great performing together.”

  Her mother nodded in agreement. “By the way? Dessert is ready in the kitchen if you’re interested. Peach cobbler.”

  “You won’t have to ask me twice.” Chase unstrapped the guitar and handed it to her father so it could be returned to the music room.

  Pyper lifted from the bench and followed Chase to the kitchen. “Mama’s recipe is the best. Her peach cobbler is one of my favorites.”

  Fresh from the oven, dessert went down easy, topped by just-starting-to-mel
t scoops of vanilla ice cream and fragrant servings of coffee. Afterward, Chase and Tyler chatted in the living room while Pyper lingered in the kitchen and helped her mom rinse and load the last of the dishes.

  When she returned, Chase stood as though preparing to leave. Something about his imminent departure caused a heart lurch followed by a tinge of sadness. As though registering her reluctance, he caught her fingertips with the swing of his hand. “My truck’s out front and nothing much more is going to be accomplished tonight as far as the music session is concerned. Feel like a quick drive?”

  To where? For What? Didn’t matter. In the end, Pyper didn’t want this evening with Chase to conclude. Not quite yet.

  The ride they shared was short, silent mostly. Just a few miles north of Pyper’s home, he backed his pickup truck to a stop so the tailgate faced the banks of a wide, bubbling creek that sparkled and shimmered. Sunset painted the sky in vivid hues of yellow, orange, pink and blue. The mountains went all jagged and purple against the rapidly darkening sky. Pyper made ready to leave the vehicle, but Chase stayed her exit by pressing a hand against her arm.

  “Let’s drop the tailgate and sit in back. We can watch the water. The lightning bugs’ll be coming to life, and there’s a full moon tonight. Should be beautiful.”

  Pyper marveled. Without any kind of roadmap, Chase knew just how to glide into her spirit and tuck in tight. How could this be so? She had never come across anyone like him. “That sounds nice.”

  “Wait here; I’ll get your door.” Chase leaped from the cab and rounded to Pyper’s side of the truck. He helped her to the ground then reached behind the passenger seat to extract a stash of blankets and a pair of water bottles. “They’re not cold or anything, but maybe they’ll do.”

  “They’re fine. Thanks.”

  Pyper smiled at him, touched all over again by his thoughtfulness. Their fingers brushed when she accepted her bottle and that increasingly familiar jolt of electricity created a need that stemmed not just from the physical but the emotional. Lightning bugs, moonbeams, the heightened emotions that swept through her soul transported Pyper to a bittersweet season of life that she wanted to share with him. She needed him to understand her, to know her, fully.