Capture the Wind for Me (38 page)

“It's a good thing
I
brought you, by the way,” Katherine teased. “I don't think Greg would have kissed you that way in front of your daddy.”

Not in front of Mama either. But that wasn't a thought I cared to dwell upon.

“Yeah.” I could feel myself blushing.

“It's all right, you know.” She grinned at me. “I had boys kiss me at sixteen, too.”

Boys, plural. I just bet she did. Dozens of them.

I pushed those ideas from my mind. Katherine didn't deserve that, not after all she'd done for me today.

“What will we do about goin' to their hotel room?” I asked. “Daddy will get all mad.”

“Don't worry. They'll have a suite of rooms, living area included. You'll have a place to sit with Greg, and I won't be far away. Even your daddy won't find reason to complain.” She gave me an impish smile.

I went back to watching the crowd, thinking I couldn't wait for the concert to start, and I didn't want it to end. And I couldn't wait for it to be over.

Eight minutes and forty-six seconds.

By that time I checked the clock every minute. When it reached five, the very air in the stadium bristled with expectation. Every nerve within me hummed. Four minutes. Three. Two. One. Thousands of voices took up a joyous chant, counting down the seconds. Electricity surged through the arena, the hair on my arms rising. The girl on my right hung on to her seat, back arched, shouting the numbers. I could barely distinguish her voice amid the noise.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“Here goes!” Katherine poked my side.

“Three, two, ONE!”

The arena cut to blackness, dotted by glow wands. Four spotlights flooded the stage, each lighting a figure completely covered in a hooded robe. “Aaahhh!” I couldn't see behind me, but I could hear the sound. Every fan in that arena rocketed to her feet, yelling. I scrambled up, heart thudding, fingers pressing into my palms, the corporate scream of thousands of teenagers sizzling like a live wire in my ears. Music crashed into play, and the hooded figures glided into motion. Suddenly, the lights cut out on stage. When the lights came up again, the hooded robes were gone. LuvRush posed theatrically, lit in silver.

Screams multiplied until my very being shook with the sound. A song from the LuvRush CD crashed into play, and Greg's voice rose above it all. The group danced their way across the stage, singing.

I will never forget that concert. The pulse of music through my body, my very heart thudding with the beat. Girls shrieking the names of the band members, tossing flowers upon the stage and ramp. Girls reaching to touch the group members as they sat on the ramp in the midst of the crowd, singing “Hung Up on You.” Song after song, both fast and slow, of which I knew every word. Close-ups of the guys on the screen above the stage. The synchronicity of laser lights and music. Confetti, pink and green smoke, fireworks. Flashing costumes and constant, constant sound and motion. An
energy
such as I've never felt in my life. No one in the crowd sat the entire hour. Greg and his band strode, danced, and rubber-heeled across the floor as they sang, microphones positioned in front of their mouths and attached to headsets. The agility of their movements. How did they
do
it? I wondered—never a ragged breath amidst all that choreography. Mostly I remember the way Greg exuded such easy confidence, as if born to sing.

I'd met the quiet, gentle Greg in Bradleyville, the Christian who listened with patience, who loved family, and who cared with his whole heart. Now I saw the public Greg, the only one his fans saw, the Greg destined to be a star. And my chest filled with a love for him—all of him—that spilled into my eyes and down my cheeks.

A fast song ended amid wild shrieks from the crowd. Slow music began. “Now,” Greg spoke over the noise, “I want to sing a new song for the first time tonight, called ‘Love Will Begin.' This is for Jackie.”
Tsoky.

My breath sucked in and held. Katherine hugged me, elated. I clutched my fingers under my chin, fresh tears filling my eyes. The spotlight turned golden on Greg as he moved to the front center, just feet away. Girls on our row jumped up and down, reaching toward him, but he sang only to me.

The skeptics say that dreams are just the tales we spin at night.

And wishing for things we do not have won't bring them to our sight.

It's true I knew that all these words from wisdom could be traced.

But then you spoke your heart to me, and all else was erased.

On the chorus, he tipped back his head and closed his eyes.

I can't believe you look at me the way I've looked at you.

I can't believe you stand so close, the way I want you to.

If you take my hand and I tremble, a leaf before the wind,

Just hold me close till I am still, and our love will begin, yeah, Our love will begin.

After the final song, we all roared and yelled and stomped our feet until LuvRush materialized in plumes of smoke for a smashing encore. Then, suddenly, the concert was over, the music silent, my ears ringing. Katherine hugged me, practically shaking. “Did you like it?”

“Like it,” I breathed. “I'll never be the same!”

As everyone else crowded up the aisles, Katherine and I made our way back through the door down front. From there we were escorted to the dressing room. We stood outside for some time, waiting for the guys.

“Greg says to tell you he's getting cleaned up,” Gary said as he emerged from the room. “They're always pretty sweaty after a concert.”

Soon Greg appeared in jeans and a T-shirt, looking exhausted, his hair wet. I rushed to hug him, barely able to talk, feeling his ring between us. “Thank you, thank you,” I whispered against his neck. “I love the song. I love your singing. I love you.”

I couldn't believe the throng of fans who'd crowded at the back of the building, waiting to see the group as they trotted for the bus. Greg held my hand tightly as security guards on all sides protected the band from screaming, pushing girls. Demetri ran beside Katherine. We jumped into the bus, and my jaw dropped open at the layout, complete with bunk beds and seats along the sides like couches. “My home.” Greg smiled. He pulled me onto a seat and slid his arm around me.

As the driver started the engine, girls pounded on the windows, calling the guys' names, begging for them to peek outside.

“How do you
ever
walk down a street?” Katherine wondered aloud.

Alex lifted his hands. “We don't.”

“They don't really know us,” Lysander said. “They think they do, but they know only what they see. This is why Greg is so fortunate. He has someone who
does
know him.”

Greg caught my eye, clearly surprised. His e-mails had been full of tales about his three friends—how they loved partying with girls and all the attention. They'd even teased him about tying himself down to “one girl.”

“I told you guys you do things wrong.” He raised his chin at Lysander.

“Ah. Yeah, but
you
have Jackie.”

At the hotel, security herded us off the bus and into an empty elevator. “No girls,” Alex commented. “How long before they find us?”

I aimed a shocked look at Greg. Did their fans pursue them even to their hotel rooms? He gave a self-conscious shrug. “They will have to sneak here to come up,” he told me. “The floor is closed.”

LuvRush had two connecting suites, both with large living rooms. Greg and I took the couch in the sitting area he shared with Demetri, while everyone else tactfully trooped to the other living room next door. Katherine made no bones about leaving the door open between the two suites. All evening people would come in and out as others traveling with the band arrived for the gathering, sometimes going through our area to reach the other one. And before long we heard security in the hall, forcing excited girls to leave. The girls protested, calling the guy's names. “Demetri, come out! Lysander, kiss me!” But most of them called for Greg. “Greg, I love you! Greg, I want your body tonight! Greg!”

Once I recovered from my shock at their boldness, I wanted to go out and slap each one silly. I aimed a stunned look at Greg, wondering how he lived like this, wondering how he could possibly be faithful to me amidst all the temptation. Stupid Charlotte's aggressive tactics were nothing compared to this. He pressed his lips in embarrassment. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“Does this happen every night?” I asked.

He nodded. His expression begged for my understanding.

“And the guys usually let them in, right? You said they party a lot.” My voice turned edgy. “I didn't know you meant in your own hotel room.”

“I go into a bedroom and lock the door.”

“Greg—one door, that's it? One little door separates you from—all that?”

He turned to face me squarely, his knee on the couch cushion, and grazed his palm across my cheek. “My heart separates me from that,” he said gently. “My heart is with you.”

Remorse tugged at my chest. I shouldn't judge him. He couldn't control what his fans did. I smiled wanly, reaching up my hand to place over his. “I'm sorry. I just . . . I didn't realize . . .”

“I know.” He breathed deeply, making me wonder if he'd almost been afraid of this evening, of my seeing this side of his life. “Do you forgive me?”

I shook my head. “There's nothin' to forgive.”

We pushed the subject aside then, focusing on each other, on us. For the next two hours, we talked, barely stopping to eat the pizza that soon arrived. I'd have thought, given all our e-mails and phone calls, that we'd have little left to say. But we couldn't seem to spill our hearts enough. I told Greg in low tones how I was feeling about Katherine. How I dared believe that now Daddy and she were engaged, she would not change her mind. “She's been so excited all week,” I added, forgetting to mention that part of her excitement had centered on coming to Lexington.

Greg talked more about his tour—everything from the dozens of people who traveled with them in order to put on the show, to the promising moments when his three friends had seemed more open to talk about Christ. “You know we all pray before each concert now? We get in a circle and pile our hands together. I pray and they listen. At least they do that.”

If only they behaved as well after the concerts, I thought. Suddenly I realized how much strength it took for Greg to be outspoken about his faith. “I'm still so proud of you for what you said in that
Teen Dream
interview,” I said. “It must take a lot of courage.”

He blew out air. “I think it is a reason God puts me here. The more people know me, the more I can talk about Christ. Of course, magazines do not always use those quotes. But sometimes.”

“And your tour is goin' great,” I added.

“Yes, so good. Stations play another song from our CD now, you know? Maybe we will have three in the top forty!”

I brushed hair off his forehead. “You probably will, Greg. LuvRush is gonna be a huge success. You know it, and I know it.”

“I do. I feel it here.” He thumped his chest. “But I hardly believe it still. Sometimes my head goes around, and I think it is a dream.”

I squeezed his knee. “It is a dream. A real one.”

Out of nowhere, a knot formed in my throat.

“What is it?” Greg laced his fingers in mine.

“I just . . . You're a big star. And you're goin' to be even bigger. I don't want you to leave me behind. All those girls—”

“I
never
leave you behind,” he said fiercely, pressing my fingers. “You see? The more star I am, the more I need you. Like Lysander said, we all need someone like you. Someone to talk to. Who knows us—inside.”

“But with all the girls, you could find somebody else—”

“I
won't.
I promise you.” Hurt creased Greg's face. “This is why I am afraid sometimes. That you don't believe me. And so you will find someone close to you in Bradleyville. Someone whose life is like yours, not like . . . this.”

“No, Greg.” I bit my lip. “I wouldn't ever do that.”

He looked at his ring around my neck. “You wear it always? You don't take it off?”

I pressed my palm over it. “I never take it off. I promise.”

Later, I asked him how he wrote the song for me. And did he start thinking those words when we'd sat under the trees at the river? He looked a little embarrassed.

“Yes. But you must see I had much help. I want the words to be . ..” He looked away, frowning. “I don't know the word . . . it means like a poem.”

“Poetic?”

“Yes! I want them to be poetic, and so I need help with language. But it is not like speaking. I can take time, you know?”

“I loved it,” I told him. “I love the song.”

Our time had passed too quickly. Katherine and I would have to go soon; the guys needed a good sleep before hitting the road in the morning. Tomorrow night they would play in Nashville. I didn't know how to leave Greg, every moment that ticked by draining more of my elation, filling me with dread. “When am I goin' to see you again?”

He hesitated. “I hope after the tour. I do not want to tell you until I know for certain. But I want to come again to Bradleyville, and now Celia and Danny talk about coming. Celia wants to have early Christmas with her mamma and baba. She wants Danny there.”

I raked in a breath. I could see him again in a little over three months? “Oh.” I wanted to smile and cry at the same time. “I can't
believe
it!”

“Just—I must be sure. Danny . . . he does not come to Bradleyville usually. He does not like it much. But he will maybe go for Celia.”

My smile diminished. Suddenly I remembered Daddy. How would he feel to see Danny Cander again? How would Danny Cander feel to see
him?