Amazing Love

by Mae Nunn

  “Not as long as that theme is flanked by an opening and closing mention of the Southern Savage’s unveiling in Sturgis.” She emphasized her priority hoping her opinion mattered. Claire realized her drive to see her project succeed could be the closest she’d ever come to parental pride. She was determined to enjoy every baby step along the way.

  “Miss Claire’s in the parking lot and there’s a camera crew with her!” Zach shouted.

  Luke watched as the kid tossed his head, giving his dark curls that freshly mussed look the girls seemed to love. Zach was a natural entertainer, always aware of his potential audience.

  “For real?” Chad’s voice cracked with the question, his eyes wider than usual behind his black horn-rims.

  “Come see for yourself.” Zach headed back through the door he’d left standing open behind him.

  All heads turned toward Luke for approval.

  “Go on, take five,” he grudgingly acquiesced. “But shut the door,” he called as the three sprinted up the aisle, followed by the few volunteers who were painting a backdrop for the upcoming week of vacation Bible school.

  “Just what we needed,” Luke muttered, “a distraction right before our audition. It figures Miss Texas would parade a media circus through here when those guys really need to focus.”

  Even as he grumbled, Luke felt certain the Harvest Sons would get the nod to continue the impressive progress of the past two days. The council would be arriving any minute and the boys were eager to the point of being antsy. A brief diversion would probably do them good.

  Ken had given Luke a videotape of their amateurish Battle of the Bands performance. They’d open up with that video on the jumbo screens overhead and then hit the darkened stage with a filtered spot as the Sons launched into an up-tempo version of the same tune. The musical evidence of their improvement would speak volumes.

  Deciding to stick around had definitely been the right thing to do. These kids had special promise and Praise Productions was going to give them the recording that would launch them onto the professional music scene. But he couldn’t seem to get Claire’s comments from the night before out of his head. A sense of worry niggled at him over eventually leaving the Sons to fend for themselves.

  “Hey, Luke,” Ken Allen called.

  Luke smiled, in an odd way relieved by the presence of the pastor, who felt more like a personal friend than a church leader.

  “Our middle schoolers hang out here on Monday nights and I invited them to the show. Looks like you’re gonna have quite an audience, so I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Fine by me.” Luke enjoyed the thought of a crowd to pump the guys up. “They’ll be more comfortable playing to a room full of kids than a dozen adults anyway.”

  “And you won’t be bothered by the film crew?” Pastor Ken scrunched his face in a silent appeal.

  Luke’s skin grew warm beneath his dark shirt and he fought the desire to shove the long sleeves up to his elbows. He’d managed to stay away from cameras since he’d been twenty-five. There were more than enough photos of him out there to last a lifetime.

  “I guess not,” he agreed, “as long as all the attention is on the band. If the Sons expect to be more than garage musicians they’ll have to get used to cameras.”

  “Thanks, Luke. That’s what I figured you’d say.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Luke found himself in the middle of a school bus driver’s worst nightmare. The room was alive with obnoxious middle schoolers. Boys showed off for girls who wouldn’t give them a second glance. Voices competed for attention and the rubber tips of folding chairs screeched against the wooden floor as kids jockeyed for the front-row seats. The adults kept a safe distance, forming a tight huddle near the middle of the room.

  Truth be told, the environment was perfect to preview the band’s new sound. If the Sons could capture this rowdy group’s attention, the adults would follow like lost sheep. Luke caught the pastor’s eye and gave a wave of approval. The two men exchanged nods, as if sharing the same thought.

  The room went black as video flickered to life on the two oversized screens. The kids continued to chatter, their notice divided between the music overhead and the band moving into position behind their instruments on the darkened stage.

  From his bird’s eye view inside the A/V booth, Luke noted the stealth entrance of a woman and several men, two of them carrying camera equipment. Even in the dark there was no mistaking Claire’s platinum blond hair and perfect posture.

  The video timer counted backward.

  Five, four, three, two, one.

  “Show time,” Luke spoke into the mic that carried his voice into each musician’s tiny headset.

  Eric launched into the opening riff and Luke hit the spot, illuminating the four in streams of crisp white light. Eric’s raspy vocals blasted from the amps and the crowd of young teens jumped to their feet. Unable to contain their enthusiasm, the adults followed suit.

  Luke made no effort to control the satisfied smile that spread across his face. This was the best part, maybe even better than the performance that produced the recording. In the past forty-eight hours, these extraordinary young men had begun to understand their true potential. This moment, when a musician feels the power of the gift, was the reason Luke stuck with his life-on-the-move existence.

  The arrangement had been extended to give each member of the group time for a brief solo but not long enough to detract from the message of the music. A key Praise Production goal was the focus on the Word, making sure the spiritual theme wasn’t lost in the rock beat.

  His strategy worked. The house lights came up, the kids swarmed the stage like ants to a picnic lunch and the church council turned toward the sound booth to applaud their approval. The three teen volunteers in the booth with Luke cheered.

  “They were radical!” Dana, in punk mode for the evening, was clearly wowed by the performance of the boys she idolized.

  Luke beamed at the girl who couldn’t have been more excited if she’d been on the stage herself.

  “I think we’re gonna need some help for a couple of weeks, Dana. How about joining us?”

  Budding self-confidence colored the face of the otherwise insecure girl, whose eyes telegraphed her raw need to fit in.

  “If you’re sure…I don’t want to be in the way.” She ducked her head and fiddled with a toggle switch as she waited for his response.

  Pastor Ken pushed open the door. “Luke, come on out. We’re unanimous and ready to sign on the dotted line.”

  “Be with y’all shortly.”

  Ken turned and let the door close quietly.

  Luke spoke softly to the girl. “I’ve watched you set the mics and monitor the board. You’re a natural. We need you on our team.”

  She glanced up as he sent her a look of open approval. Her nod of agreement put several pair of hoop earrings into motion. He had himself another stray.

  Luke joined the pastor, accepted congratulations and tucked the signed document under his arm.

  Two weeks. He’d just committed himself to two more weeks at Abundant Harvest Church. He’d book a recording session by Wednesday and have the selections nailed down by Friday. If everybody worked as hard as they had over the weekend, two weeks would be more than enough time.

  “Hey, Luke, do you have a minute?”

  He turned toward the question, an unexpected spark of pleasure surging through his chest at the sound of Claire’s voice.

  Chapter Six

  The warmth of Luke’s smile brushed Claire’s face like the rays of a Texas summer sun. A moment later his attention flickered over her shoulder and in short order his sunny look of accomplishment clouded over with dark annoyance.

  “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She forged ahead despite his glower.

  “Bad timing, Miss Texas. I’m conducting business in case you hadn’t noticed.” He turned his back, disregarding her completely.

  Though they’d parted on a note of agreement th
e night before, she wasn’t so naive as to expect a personal welcome today. Still, her efforts to include the Harvest Sons in the magazine fanfare deserved some positive response from Luke. Didn’t it? But based on this reaction to the Today’s Times crew, she’d obviously misjudged the value of her surprise.

  Unaccustomed to being snubbed, Claire felt the heat of anger rise in her cheeks.

  “It’s okay, son. There’s time enough tomorrow to wrap up the details.” Pastor Ken stepped around Luke and covered the moment of rudeness. Ken took over the introductions, extending his hand to the newcomer.

  “I’m Ken Allen, the senior pastor here.”

  “Pastor Ken—” She hesitated, toying for a moment with the idea of ignoring Luke completely. “And Luke Dawson, I’d like to introduce Arthur O’Malley of Today’s Times Magazine.”

  Luke turned, watched Ken and Art exchange comments about the band’s performance, then tucked his chin and inched away from the circle of light that surrounded them. When he glanced up, his lips were pressed into that tight line she’d seen several times. Claire wanted to shrink from the aggravation on his face but she stood tall.

  Ken excused himself to rejoin the council. Art motioned for the cameras to wait for him at the door and then turned to Luke.

  “Pleased to meet you, Luke. We got some great footage of the audition and we’d like to get a few stills of Claire and the youngsters she sings with if you don’t mind.”

  Luke avoided any possibility of a handshake by grabbing the contract and rolling it into a tight paper tube, as he turned toward the stage.

  “Nope. No time for publicity tonight,” he said, refusing the request. “We have real work to do.”

  Claire clenched her fists at his abrupt dismissal. She could wring Luke’s ornery neck.

  “Well…” Art politely retreated. “Maybe tomorrow, then. I can come back when you’re not so pressed for time. From what Claire tells me you have quite an impressive setup. Maybe our entertainment editor would be interested in doing a piece on you.”

  Luke jerked his head toward Art. There was no denying the message in Luke’s eyes. He made no effort to disguise the pure, unadulterated disgust.

  “No thanks, hotshot. Use the band to help out Miss Savage all you want, but my work speaks for itself.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the mass of middle schoolers that still dominated the front of the sanctuary.

  “Luke!” Claire gasped. She was embarrassed to the core by the uncalled-for surly behavior. Determined to give him a piece of her mind, she took two steps in his direction. Art caught her arm, stopping her progress.

  She yanked her arm free of his touch.

  “Sorry!” Art insisted. His eyes were round, his palms raised and spread declaring his innocence. “I didn’t mean to startle you, just let you know you don’t need to bother with Dawson. It’s okay if he’s not interested.”

  She glanced from Luke’s rigid back to Art’s wide eyes, a loud sigh voicing her exasperation.

  “And don’t give his comment another thought.” He angled his head toward Luke. “If I got my feelings hurt over the way some people react to the press I’d spend a lot of time in the fetal position.”

  “Still…” She risked a quick look toward Luke. He was engaged in conversation with the teens, seemingly oblivious to her feelings, never giving her the time to explain her intentions.

  “Hey, thanks for letting us interrupt your day.”

  She pried her gaze away and turned to Art.

  “I’m the one who should be thanking you for this opportunity. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.” She followed him up the aisle toward the exit. “Any chance I’ll get to preview the article before it goes to print?”

  “Sorry, no. My editor makes the final changes and at that point deadlines are tight. But I’ll fax an advance copy to you before the issue hits the stands.”

  The crew headed for their cars in the parking lot and Claire stood alone for a moment, praying for the right way to address Luke’s behavior. She’d only known him a few days, but she’d witnessed a dozen flashes of kindness and generosity slip though his gruff exterior. She was clearly being drawn to him but hadn’t the slightest idea why she should respond to those emotions. His lifestyle certainly precluded any relationship potential and he wasn’t the easiest guy to deal with.

  Still, she sensed a painful need within Luke. A pain she understood and possibly a need she could help fill.

  But the fact remained that ten minutes ago he’d been coarsely out of line, behavior she’d long refused to tolerate from any man.

  Young voices drifted down the hall as the preteens returned to their planned activities. The council was meeting in the church study, leaving only the Harvest Sons and Luke in the sanctuary. Ignoring the good sense of letting a little more time dull her anger, she made a beeline for the spot where he rested in a folding chair, his head down over the spiral notebook in his hands.

  Luke recognized the busy cadence that always accompanied her approach, so there was no need to look up to know who was bearing down on him.

  “Just answer one question for me,” Claire demanded.

  His gaze shifted from the list of potential song titles to the pointy-toed shoes she wore. The right shoe tap-tap-tapped her impatience. Tonight she was a vision in pink, from the rose-colored heels to her identically matching and sharply creased slacks, topped by a blouse the exact hue of her flushed cheeks.

  A couple of times now he’d seen her in a dither, her fists positioned on her hips. He witnessed that stance before him now. But instead of bracing for what was coming, he allowed himself to enjoy the image of perfection whose attention was his alone. An odd tingling of pleasure that he hadn’t experienced in many years swamped his senses.

  “Are you a one-man show because you’re too proud to share the spotlight or because you’re so rude that nobody will stand in it next to you?” Her caramel eyes were narrowed, telegraphing the fact that he was the singular focus of her annoyance.

  He had a reprimand coming but didn’t intend to accept it just yet. “Is there any chance there’s a third choice that’s a little less incriminating?”

  A woman on a power trip would have continued to tower over him. Claire dropped to the chair beside him and puffed out a breath to move the bangs off the tips of her long lashes.

  “What was that all about, Luke?” Her voice lost its demanding tone, but the storm in her eyes said she expected an answer.

  “I might ask you the same thing. You knew what was at stake tonight. Did you think about that before you decided to show up at the last minute with your entourage?”

  She slumped a bit in her chair. “Art was at the dealership all afternoon because Today’s Times is doing a feature on Savage Cycles. I invited them to come along, thinking you’d appreciate some potential publicity for Praise Productions and the Sons.”

  “Did it occur to you to ask first?”

  “I did,” she insisted. “I phoned Pastor Ken before I said anything to Art.”

  Luke recalled Ken’s mention of the film crew and knew she spoke the truth. But instead of apologizing for jumping to conclusions, he locked onto another subject.

  “No-oo-o, we wouldn’t want to offend Aa-aa-art,” he singsonged. “Isn’t he about a decade too old for you?”

  She cocked an eyebrow at the wisecrack that made him sound like a jealous boyfriend.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but he seems like a nice guy. And it’s worth the risk of letting the press into my life if his column helps me launch the Savage.”

  “Worth the risk?” he repeated, more curious about her than ever.

  The woman who was so big on eye contact dropped her gaze, fiddled with her cross. Her bravado slipped. She had something at risk, something private. A subject he knew a lot about. A true stage professional, she slid behind her mask of perfect composure and met his stare.

  “Oh, you know reporters. Writing about your business life is never enough. Soo
ner or later they want personal details, but that’s where I draw the line.”

  And, he guessed, there must be a good reason for that.

  “Since I ran off sugar daddy…”

  She raised a clenched fist in fair warning.

  “Are you going to leave mad or stick around again to keep an eye on me?” he continued. “I’ve officially picked up a stray kid, and I think she could use some female influence.”

  Luke turned in the direction of the A/V booth. The silhouette of the girl’s spiked hair was recognizable through the dark glass. Claire must have spotted her.

  “You mean our Dana?” A soft sigh accompanied the question. “That poor kid is really struggling to know who she wants to be.”

  “I’d settle for her figuring out who she is right now,” Luke insisted. “She looks like a different person every time I see her. I have a good memory for faces and I’ve introduced myself to her three times already.”

  “Well, she has an ultra-conservative Texas Ranger daddy and she’s never known her mama so there’s no woman in her life. Dana definitely changes her fashion statement from one day to the next, but her faith is the common thread in all her styles. She may be mixed up, but she’s certain of the one thing that matters most. So she spends a bunch of time at Abundant Harvest, where we all accept her and love her.”

  Like a river overflowing its banks, longing spilled over Luke. Unconditional welcome must be nice. A kid could get away with that, but an adult had to earn the approval and respect of his peers. And it was tiring work, a day-to-day existence.

  He slapped the notebook on the floor, tightened the laces of his worn-out All Stars, rose to his feet and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “So, what’s it gonna be? You hanging around or bailing out tonight?”

  “Nice try, but you haven’t completely thrown me off course.” She stood, adjusted the shoulder strap of the leather bag that matched her shoes and nailed him with a determined stare.

  “Luke, you embarrassed me in front of those people. It may be your style to do everything solo, but I’m in the business of selling rather expensive toys. I need all the positive promotion and clients I can get.”