“The big deal is you’re hammered, and you’re under age. Is this what you want? Early morning rescue missions and sickness? Over a girl who’d drop you like garbage for a bigger, better deal? Well answer me this, pal, how’s that workin’ for ya? Does it feel good? Was it worth it?”
Zach shoved past, staggered against the doorframe of the bathroom. “I’m sick, all right. Sick of everyone acting like I’m a baby, protecting me from truths like, oh, say, Pyper’s bio-dad has come calling, bent on accomplishing who knows what, and we sure can’t have the little baby boy being exposed to such a thing.”
“And what you’ve done just now? It proves their judgment on that point is right on the money. You’ve acted out like the immature fourteen-year-old you are instead of the adult you profess to be. This stunt was a monumental fail. Think that over, Zach! As soon as she opened the liquor cabinet—no, as soon as you found out you were home alone with a sixteen-year-old girl bent on trouble—you should have hauled yourself away from that place as fast as possible.” Thunder and wind built to a storm requiring immediate release. “Grow up, Zach! I’ve lived the road you’re traveling, and when you get to the end, I don’t want you blaming jealousy of your sister, or living up to your dad’s expectations or anything else for where you end up. You’ll have no one to blame but yourself, and just like me you’ll be forced to face the truth that you had to try every form of stupid until the right thing came along. Don’t be an idiot. You’ve had every advantage and you’re shoving that fact right back into God’s face like an ingrate. If that’s who and what you are, if that’s the person you told me you wanted to discover, then let me tell you right now, you’re making the mistake of your life and wasting the only gift worth having. Your life, Zach. Your life.”
Silence worked a small measure of calm through crackling levels of tension.
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not keeping this from them. I’m not covering for you, and I’m certainly not gonna lie. Got that?”
Zach’s fear danced through the atmosphere. Chase knocked it aside with ease. This kid needed to learn. Fast.
“I’m going to let them know you’re safe; then I’m going to caffeinate you ’til you’re sober. After that, I’m taking you home. The rest is up to you, but you’re coming clean.”
Zach’s stubborn bravado faded. “They’re going to ground me ’til I’m forty.”
“Maybe so. Wouldn’t blame ’em if they did.”
“Yeah? Well, they’re probably going to force me out of your band, too.”
If Zach expected that statement to be a trump card, he was woefully mistaken. Chase just shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to make do, won’t I? Good thing for me Music City is bustin’ with great guitarists. You broke the only rule I laid out to you. All I asked was for you to stay straight and focused. Now, answer me true. Did anything else happen with Kim?”
“Since you’re not being much of a friend, I guess that’s none of your business.”
“You made it my business the minute you asked me to come get you. Now, I want an answer. Did you do two stupid things tonight?”
Still green-skinned and wobbly, Zach lurched toward the living room couch and sank onto the cushions, burying his face in the towel Chase handed him. “No. OK? It got pretty heavy, but I pulled back because I didn’t feel good.”
Well, thank God for a weak stomach, Chase thought, rejoicing at the way the kid’s system had bucked against alcohol intake. After consuming an ocean of black coffee, after a couple hours of recuperation, Chase returned Zach to the Brock farm.
The sky was just beginning to lighten from ink black to pearly blue when Tyler met them at the front door. Once Zach saw his dad, he reverted almost instantly to the child he truly was, and Chase wondered how the return home would play out. The Brock family had been through the wringer of late.
Slow but purposeful, Zach exited the truck and met his dad’s steady, waiting gaze. A heartbeat of time elapsed between father and son, powered by a bond Chase recognized and revered.
“Dad, I’m so sorry.”
Tyler didn’t say a word. He tugged Zach into a long, hard hug, visibly moved.
“I promise you can yell at me all you want later on.” Zach’s words were patterned by tears and a husky voice. “Please, for now, just know I was an idiot, and I won’t ever be this stupid again.”
Tyler didn’t release his hold. “Fair enough—for now—but we’re going to talk this over when you’re rested. I’m just grateful you’re OK.”
“I am. Promise.”
Chase made ready to leave. He turned, but Tyler caught his eye and mouthed, “Thank you.” Chase’s tiredness warmed into affection and he smiled, giving Tyler a nod.
He accepted Tyler’s final wave and left as quick as he could. The last thing he wanted right now was to see Pyper. Seeing her would shatter what little control he could wrangle into place. Had he failed as a mentor? Had his well-intentioned influence on Zach backfired?
With this episode riding on top of everything she had endured with respect to Mark’s arrival, Chase didn’t want to look into her eyes and see disappointment, or doubt.
The day following Zach’s stumble with Kim, Pyper tossed restlessly beneath a light layer of blankets, stretching and reaching for her phone where it rested on the nightstand. A wavering mist sifted and danced across the dips and flats of land outside her window. Sunlight formed a warm block of gold against her body.
Pyper scrolled to Chase’s name on her phone and tapped out a text message.
Have I mentioned lately how much u mean 2 me? Thanks for helping Z. I have so much to say, so much to tell u. There’s no sessions 2day, just free time and R&R. Have you got time enough for a picnic?
Rather than babysit her cellphone, begging and pleading for a reply, Pyper prepped for the day by showering, changing into soft, well-worn jeans and a white tank top, which she paired with a waist-tied button down shirt in deep pink. While she combed her hair and worked it into a ponytail, a music alert sounded from her phone.
She ran to her bed stand.
I’d love it, crash. Name the time.
Pyper couldn’t quell the tingles of relief and happiness that spread through her body. Smile wide, she replied: How soon can you get here? Seriously. XO.
See you around eleven, sweet thing.
An hour later, mood ebullient, Pyper moved through the kitchen with her mom, helping to put the finishing touches on a batch of potato salad.
“You’re not putting onions in it, are you?”
“Yeah, I am. I always do.”
“Oh. Yeah. Umm. OK.”
Her mom turned in question, but Pyper neatly avoided eye contact and initiated a stream of warm water. She started rinsing a stack of pots and pans, loading them in the dishwasher.
“Pyper?”
“Well, Chase isn’t a fan of onions. Umm…”
Seemed to Pyper like her mom fought to keep a straight face.
“Want me to separate a serving for him?”
Pyper flashed damp fingers in a gesture of dismissal. “Oh, no…I mean…yeah. I mean, if you don’t mind. If it isn’t any trouble.”
“Pyper you’re tongue tied.”
“Am not.”
Yeah, she was, but her mom’s grin, her sparkling eyes, made her defensive. Once mixing was complete, after the diced, sliced and cooked ingredients had been combined—except for the onions—Pyper breathed deep and released a contented sigh of pleasure. “Mmm…summer picnics wouldn’t be the same without your prized offering, Mama. It’s so good.”
“You’re so easy.”
“Don’t let it get around.” Pyper grabbed a spoon from the nearby drawer and sampled a spoonful of the creamy concoction. Promptly she felt the sting of a light slap against the back of her hand.
“You mooch.”
“Guilty.” Worth it, she added in silence, licking the spoon and then depositing it in the sink. Pyper watched from the cor
ner of her eye, noticing her mom bend to retrieve a plastic tub and a lid from a cabinet next to the stove. Next, she scooped a large portion inside and sealed it tight…only then did she add the onions and mix the remainder of the salad.
Pyper blushed, and tingled, thinking only of Chase, of how eager she was to see him, touch him, share her heart with him…
“One time,” she said to her mom, “we went to Gabby’s for burgers and fries, and I noticed he opted for no onion, no tomato. Just trying to be nice and all. I was pretty hard on him, and he refuses to give up. He’s helped us, and I know he’s as confused about everything as I am. We need today to get things square and figure out what comes next. Know what I mean? I’m really looking forward to it.”
“Um-hum.” Amy settled the container in a small sack stationed on the counter and tweaked Pyper’s cheek. “I hope it all works out, Pyp. He’s good stuff. We owe him.”
The impromptu date with Chase began with one of Pyper’s favorite things to do in the world: ride free on horseback through the valley surrounding her home. With Chase next to her, she let her mare take the lead. Briar proceeded at a gentle trot and Pyper found herself lulled by the soothing sway and bounce of balancing herself as the animal moved through a wild meadow dotted by colorful flowers that dipped and lifted in gentle rolls of plush green grass.
Warm animal flesh met the stroke of her fingertips; a thick, coarse mane fell through the caressing fingertips of Pyper’s free hand. The other hand held firm to the reins of the light brown Tennessee walking horse.
Briar’s step was a bit brisk as she instinctively kept pace with the longer strides of Chase’s stallion, Shepard. Shepard was her dad’s horse from way back, dark brown, satiny and solid in color but for a striking white star on his forehead. Shepard was gentle, but loved to cut loose at a run when given free rein.
Somehow, that idea and image brought Pyper’s focus back to Chase. She looked at him over her shoulder, tipping the rim of her cowboy hat to shade her eyes from the sun. Struck by inspiration, she flung her hair and crouched low over Briar’s head, murmuring the “run” command into perked ears. The mare took flight and Pyper whooped. “Race you to the stream!”
Chase’s laughter exploded through the air, and he kicked Shepard into a run. Naturally Briar was no match for the speed and size of the stallion; Chase beat her by a long-shot and slowed near an ancient willow bursting with tremulous green leaves, its curving branches trailing against the bubbling surface of a ribbon of water that curved, and tossed and sparkled across the land. Near the bank, Chase directed his horse with a gentle nicker and clicks of the tongue. Long ago, Pyper’s dad had erected a roughhewn post designed to blend into the landscape and meant to tether a horse or two. Chase secured his animal while Pyper joined him and prepared to do the same.
“Hard to believe this simple little stream leads to a tributary of the Cumberland.” She was out of breath. Exhilarated. “It has no name, but when my dad and I discovered it, for some unknown reason, I called it Ogonquin. Probably because I was like seven-years-old and at the time I was totally fascinated by anything having to do with Indians.” Chase took the reins from her grip and secured Briar on her behalf, which charmed Pyper deep and true. “Since the name sounded Indian, and tickled my fancy, we let it stick.”
“Your very own myth, shared with family.” Chase chuckled and watched her with a level of intent that sizzled, yet his eyes were soft as a breeze, and just as provocative. Then, as though remembering himself, he cleared his throat and turned away, loosening the straps of a small leather carry-all that contained their lunch. Pyper retrieved a big plaid blanket and small stash of plastic ware from the pack that rested against Briar’s sweat-glistened flank.
In another nod to chivalry, Chase took custody of her supplies and spread their blanket, positioning food parcels and serving items. Pyper laid out napkins, water bottles, chips, and rolls, continuing to set up their picnic.
“I love your story about the river. I love thinking about you as a little girl. The scrapbooks you showed me a while back, they give me such a vivid picture of you back then.”
The statement filled her with a bittersweet taste. “I wish the road were easier. For all of us.”
Chase’s gaze lifted from the layout of their spread. “How’s Zach holding up? Mind my asking?”
“I don’t mind at all.” Pyper sat on the blanket and stretched her legs, leaning back on her hands. Sunlight kissed her face and she loved the warmth so she lifted her hat away and set it next to her. “He’s busted, royal, but we’re all keeping tabs, and we all care. Deeply. He’ll get through.”
“I hope, in the light of day, your folks don’t think my influence on him was bad, with the music and recordings and such. I never meant for him to start down a bad road.”
Pyper surrendered her sunbath and stared at him. “Just the opposite. You helped more than you’ll ever know. On a number of levels.”
If he expected her to elaborate on that, he’d have to wait a while, because she just wasn’t ready. Best to ease into things.
“Evidently your dad has seen the way clear to let him stay in my studio band. I’m glad for that.”
“It’s constructive, it plays to what Zach loves, and it connects him to a world outside of his family. That’s important right now. Smart decision, I think.”
“Me, too.” Chase brushed an open palm against the tips of some nearby wild flowers that carpeted the tall grass. Then he plucked a few of the more colorful blooms and gathered them into a bouquet. He looked up, his eyes a dark, rich ocean. He offered Pyper the flowers then brushed his knuckles against her cheek. Charmed all over again, she lifted the flowers to her nose and captured an instant of spicy fragrance.
“You said you had a lot to tell me. A lot to discuss…”
“Yeah.” Pyper braced, studied the lovely, vibrant blooms rather than his eyes…eyes she fell into without reservation.
“I’d like to go first. Especially given what happened with Zach. I have something to tell you, too.”
The words came in a flat delivery devoid of the emotion Pyper knew…just knew…lurked scant millimeters beneath the surface. She rested her hand against his strong, sinewy forearm, a forearm she had admired many times as he strummed a guitar on stage, or worked his fingertips against carefully divided frets.
Or when he held her close…
She gave herself a firm internal shake. “What’s wrong?”
His chest rose and fell at her quiet prod. “I have to tell you something that happened.” The words were a whisper. His chest rose and fell once more.
Pyper respected the interlude of restful silence that fell into a sun-kissed moment filled with insect music, whispering grass and bird song. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel fear. Instead, she wanted only to know him. Fully.
“It begins with church the other day. The sermon. My pastor talked about the parable of the laborers in the vineyard. You know, that story always kind of ticked me off, until he explained something.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, as you know, there were laborers who were hired right away, who worked the field properly all day long for a fair day’s wage. Through the course of the day, the land owner continued to send workers into his field. Afternoon. Early Evening. All the laborers were paid the same amount. The workers who were hired last, who only worked maybe an hour or so in the blazing hot sun, received goodness and grace based solely on the vintners generosity and goodness.”
Pyper nodded readily. “It seems so unfair on the surface. The poor workers who did what was expected, worked hard the entire day, must have felt cheated.”
“Exactly—but that’s not the point. The story is an illustration of God’s love. God gives love based solely on generosity and goodness…and our willingness to accept that love and share it in return. An excess of love. That’s the point of the parable, not the idea of people being slighted, but the idea of everyone being included, and g
iven equal mercy. That idea has such a big place in my heart.”
“Why that one in particular?”
“Because I don’t deserve it. Mercy. At all. I messed up in so many ways, lingering on the outside, waiting, hoping, just like the laborers in Jesus’ parable. And look what God’s done…he sent me you, Pyper. He sent me love, and music, and second chances.”
Pyper didn’t take that fact a step further. After what she had experienced with Mark, she couldn’t quite bring it around to that connection.
“I know you were riled up and trying to just survive the moment, but do you remember the way Mark described the day he lost his job, the day he kicked you out? He talked about buying a pint of whiskey.”
“Kind of tough to forget.” She did her best to keep the bite from her words. After all, Chase didn’t deserve recrimination for trying to stand between his friend and mentor and the woman he loved.
“I did the same thing.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“No, you don’t. I’m not talking about the past. It happened just recently.”
Pyper froze. Blinked. “What?”
“When Kellen told me you were Mark’s daughter, I fell apart, Pyp. On my way home from that meeting, I stopped at the nearest liquor store. I called for a bottle. The clerk wrapped it in a brown paper bag, and I left the store without a backward glance. I was so eaten up. So raw. I lived exactly what Mark described in his testimony, and I did it following recovery. I intended to break a vow I made to myself and to so many others.”
“Chase…what…what happened?” Her throat closed on the words.
“I came this close.” With finger and thumb Chase delineated a scant sliver of space. “I wanted that drink so bad.”
“Did you?” She held her breath, waited within a world held in suspense.
“No. I ended up chucking that bottle into the bottom of a dumpster.”
At once, her shoulders relaxed; a coil of tension released. “What stopped you?”
“You, Pyper. You.”
“Me?” She watched him, captivated, shocked all over again. This wasn’t how she had expected this conversation to go at all.
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