Beyond Hope's Valley: A Big Sky Novel (28 page)

Ben began by telling of his first tour. He told of how hard fame had been on a young man. "I didn't quite go off the deep end, but it was close." He saw one of the female reporters in the front row smile. "Soon I found myself caught up with women and booze . . . and I partook plenty of both."

He shared about the party at his place and how when he went to bed Jason had been passed out on the couch. "When I went in the next morning his face was blue. When I ran to him he was cold. I tried to find his pulse. My buddy and I called 911, but it was too late. He was gone.

"For the last five years I've been writing letters to teens who've abused alcohol, telling them my story and asking them to reconsider their paths before they lost a friend or even their own lives. Some have written back.

"I regret to say that in the last month I've been on the road and I failed to get those letters sent. I just want my fans to know that I'm accepting my error and will pay the consequences, whatever they may be." His voice caught in his throat and tears moistened his eyes. All noise around the room stilled. A few of the male reporters looked away.

His foot tapped as he saw the cameras focused on his face. "I want to take this time to talk to those out there who might have a problem like I had. If you're an underage drinker and think you're cool, know there is nothing cool about burying a friend. Jason missed out on getting married, having kids, buying a hot rod . . ."

He lifted his lips in the slightest smile. "Or maybe you're like me and you have a void inside and you're just trying to fill it. I felt like I was missing out on something. I thought the next can of beer or the next pretty girl would make everything better. They never did. They only made things worse. The only thing that can fill that void in your life is a relationship with Jesus Christ. He knows you better than anyone. He gave His life to take away your sin and—"

A reporter in the front row cleared his throat and then signaled to his cameraman to cut off the recording. The man turned off his camera and a few others did the same. Still, some stayed on him, so Ben continued, his voice rising in fervor.

"I messed up and if I were to ask around in this jail I bet a lot of others have messed up too."

Laughter sounded from some of the reporters.

"But I know one thing to be true. When I asked Jesus to fill me with His life, the only way He could do that was to remove all the old stuff that remained. I'm a different man than I was back then. Sure I mess up still, but at least I know where to go when I need it—to God."

He nodded, signaling that the interview was done. Ben looked to the officer next to him and started to stand, but the guard motioned for him to remain where he was.

"Mr. Stone, Mr. Stone!" Each reporter tried to call louder than the others.

He pointed to one in a rumpled brown suit. The man stood. "First, I have to say I'm thankful for you telling the truth and standing up for what you've done. You don't know how rare this is for someone too fess up to their mistakes. Second, I have to ask what the woman thinks of this?"

Ben cocked an eyebrow. "The woman?"

"You know, the one from the song," another reporter called out to him.

A small burst of laughter split Ben's lips. "Truthfully? I haven't communicated with her in a while, but I doubt she even knows."

Another reporter, a short woman with frizzy red hair raised her hand. Ben signaled to her.

"Mr. Stone. I've been to Montana, to the area where you used to live, and since you're being honest I have to ask a question. Is the reason this woman isn't aware of your present circumstances because she's Amish?"

All eyes turned his way, and the cameramen who'd started to put away their cameras pulled them out again. He sat a little straighter. How should he answer that question? He wasn't ashamed of the truth, but he didn't want any reporters to start snooping around West Kootenai.

He rose, signaling to the officer that he was done. "No comment."

"Thank you, Mr. Stone!" the woman called over the noise of the other reporters. "I believe you just answered my question."

The police car drove Ben to the airport, and Ben noticed Roy standing next to the private jet. When the car stopped the officer opened the back door and let Ben out.

"Mr. Stone, you're free to go."

"Thanks." He stretched out his hand and shook the officer's hand. Then Ben turned and strode to the plane.

The officer cleared his throat. "Uh, excuse me?"

Ben paused and turned.

The officer reached into his car and pulled out a CD and a pen. "Would you mind signing this for my daughter? Her name is Moriah."

Ben reached for it. "This is a first."

Roy was quiet, thoughtful until the plane took off. Then he leaned forward and a smile lit his face.

"You hit it out of the park. The media is going nuts. We have a lineup of interviews planned. I thought we could set them up in Montana. They can get a view of the mountains—"

"No. Roy, no." Ben held up his hands. "That's not going to work. I can't do that to my friends. That's the whole point. It's a quiet place."

"Okay, well. We'll give you a week or so to relax, to settle down, maybe write a few songs and we can fly you—"

"You're not getting it. I'm done. At least for a while." He pressed a hand to his forehead. "I need time to figure things out. I thought I needed to make a way to support a wife, but this . . . this isn't me."

"You." Roy gritted his teeth and growled out the word. "I should have known. You messed things up last time. Why did I think things would be any different?"

Ben didn't know what to say. He felt ten again, getting reprimanded for not getting good enough grades.

"You have no idea what you're throwing away. You're at the top. You've got the attention of a nation . . . do you think you can just walk away? What do you think you're going to do now?"

"I don't know. Maybe write a few songs. I haven't really thought about it."

Roy threw up his hands. "Yeah, well have you thought about what this does to me—to my reputation? How am I going to explain?"

"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

Roy set his lips in a grim line. He grabbed a plastic water bottle and threw the cap across the cabin. Ben knew that if they were anyplace other than on an airplane Roy would have stalked off. But there was no place to go. It was still a four-hour flight to Glacier International Airport. So instead Roy just sat there, glaring at Ben—who'd never truly understood the cliché "If looks could kill" until this moment.

T
he spring air smelled of pine trees and sunshine, and Ben took a deep breath as he strode up the wooden-planked sidewalk to the West Kootenai store. Beyond the store a red barn sat in a green meadow. Beyond that, rolling hills covered with pines, and beyond that, jagged mountain peaks rose into the clear sky.

"Home," he said to himself as he entered the store.

"Ben!" Sarah waved from where she was stocking store shelves. He'd been back a few days and each time he entered the store he was greeted with a wave and smile. He liked that. His friends had asked little of his concert tour and had hardly mentioned his arrest and press conference. He liked that even better. To them he was Ben, their friend, not Ben the recording artist. And that's why he'd come home.

If only . . .

He shook his head, pushing thoughts of Marianna out of his mind.

Ever since he'd gotten off the plane he'd been second-guessing his decision. Maybe because the messages on his phone and the e-mails hadn't stopped. Some for media interviews, others for private concerts. All offered to pay well, and as he'd looked around his small cabin, he dreamed of putting away more money for a nicer house. Besides, he didn't like the fact that Roy was hurting from his decision. He'd picked up the phone a few times to call and apologize—and maybe to work out a deal that would help them both—but each time there was a stirring inside that told him to wait.

Lord, give me an answer. Show me the right way.

He grabbed a handheld shopping cart and pulled his shopping list from his jean's pocket.

The door opened behind him, the small bell jingled, and he turned. A stranger walked in—or was it a stranger? There was something familiar about him. Ben had seen the man before. A memory stirred.

Yes. He knew him. The last time Ben had seen him was in L.A., when Ben was still in high school. Tyler Parison. He'd climbed Mt. Everest at age thirteen. The youngest person ever to do so. He'd written one best-selling book, and then another. By eighteen there were talks of a TV series. Then . . .

Parison just disappeared. There'd been rumors that he'd moved to the northwest, but no one knew for sure where he was.

Ben looked again. It was Parison all right. He was tall, but stoop-shouldered. His black hair touched his shoulders.

A woman entered behind him, a baby on her hip. Another boy, who looked to be four or five, trailed them, carrying a stick.

Ben smiled their direction as he pulled two cans of baked beans off the shelf and placed them in his shopping basket. The family made their way to the restaurant and settled around a booth. Their heads leaned over the menu as the small boy discussed an upcoming Easter egg hunt and the baby pulled napkins from the dispenser. They seemed like a regular family, nothing the media found interesting. Something stirred inside Ben—

Envy.

Not for all the guy had been, but that he'd had the guts to walk away.

Is that Your answer, Lord?

Annie approached. "Do you want to see something?" She patted Ben's shoulder. "I got a package in the mail."

He nodded and set the basket on the counter. Then he followed her to the office, pausing just inside the doorway. A quilt lay on Annie's desk, draping over it, a covering of beauty. Blue, brown, gray, and green . . . the pattern was obvious. The layers of fabric displayed lakes and hills and mountain peaks. Beautiful.

"It's Montana." She smiled.

"That it is. Marianna?" His heart ached as he said her name.

"Yes, she'd been promising to make me a quilt ever since . . ." Annie tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She didn't finish. She didn't need to.

Ever since she gave the first quilt to me.

He took another step forward and fingered the edge, appreciating her neat stitching. "She did an amazing job."

"She always was a great worker. I miss her around here. She wasn't here for even a year, but Montana seems emptier without her." Annie walked to her desk chair and sat. She folded her hands and placed her elbows on the quilt, leaning forward.

"You know, I need to apologize to you, Ben. I'm glad you're back. Saying what I said to you when you left, it wasn't right. It's been bugging me."

Ben's eyebrows furrowed. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean."

"You're being kind." She offered a sad smile. "I put my foot in my mouth when I told you to stay away from Marianna. I told you that pursing your interest in her would only hurt her, hurt her family. I thought that her being Amish and you . . . well, not Amish . . . that it would never work out."