Cherished (13 page)

He sat beside her, elbows on his thighs. “I'm trying to figure out how I missed it,” he said. “I remember the two of you staying after rehearsal to practice duets, but I never put it together, not even when Scott confessed.”

“Well, Cyd didn't have to put it together. She was with Dana when we got caught.”

His eyes said it all.

“I'm the last person Cyd would want to help. She doesn't even speak to me. And frankly, I wouldn't blame you if you stopped talking to me, now that you know.”

A tenderness entered his eyes. “So I'm supposed to think you're the worst person on earth? This might be a shocker, but there were two of you involved, and I actually still talk to Scott. Cyd does too.”

“Scott's different. He was always a good guy. Everybody likes him. Me? Not so much.”

“That was the old Heather.”

Old Heather? Was there a new? She'd just committed her life to Jesus last night. Couldn't have changed that fast.

“Well,” she said, “you're probably the only one who'd see it that way. Cyd sure won't.”

“I'll be honest, Heather. I'm sure it's hard for Cyd to look past what happened. Dana's her best friend; you were the other woman. But knowing this, I'm even more encouraged by her response. She could've said no the moment I asked. I'm impressed that she's praying about it.” He paused. “But how would you feel about learning from Cyd?”

“I don't know,” Heather said. “It's kind of wild, given the circumstances. But she used to lead the singles' Bible study, and I heard she was a good teacher. And before . . . you know . . . she always made a point of speaking to me. I think I'd be open to it, if she's willing. That's a big
if
.”

“I'll be praying,” Logan said, getting to his feet. “I'm on the next panel, and break's almost over. You heading back?”

Heather nodded, standing also. “Thanks for everything, Logan.”

“No problem.” He gave her a quick hug. “Text to let me know you got home safely.”

She nodded and watched him leave, certain she'd spend the entire drive home trying to understand all that had unfolded in the last twenty-four hours. She wasn't sure she ever would.

eleven

K
ELLI WAS READY TO GO HOME
. F
OR THE LAST THIRTY
minutes she'd been curled in a fetal position on the bed, paralyzed all over again as she replayed the past, wishing she could go back and change it.

She'd known exactly what she was doing. Even as she'd lain there in that sterile room, shivering, afraid, alone, there were no illusions. She was there to dispense with the baby she and Brian had conceived . . . and with it, all vestiges of their relationship. She'd stared down the decision for three weeks. Could she go through with having the baby, knowing Brian didn't want him or her? Could she change her entire life plan? How would she tell her mother, Cedric, and Lindell?

Every day the pain grew greater. She'd loved Brian for almost four years—the first two as purely her best friend—and he'd left her . . . while part of him remained. She couldn't bear it. She needed all of it to go away—the problem, the pain, the memories.

She phoned a girlfriend from school to take her, an acquaintance really, one who wouldn't ask many questions. And she cried for days afterward, ashamed, pleading forgiveness, but asking herself why God should do it. Why would He forgive her when she knew better? It hadn't taken her long to realize she
had
been under an illusion. The pain and the memories would never go away.

Cyd sat beside her on the bed, stroking her back. “Kelli, I wish you'd tell me what's wrong. What did Brian say? Did he hurt you?”

Kelli sniffed. “Actually, he apologized for the past. But it only dredged everything back to the surface.”

“Will it help to talk about it?”

“No.” She'd never told anyone about the abortion. “I can't, Cyd.”

“Just know I'm here if you ever feel the need—”

The card key slid into the lock and the door opened. “Hey! Are y'all in here?”

“We're here, Steph,” Cyd called.

Stephanie let the door slam. “Well, why haven't you answered? I've been calling and texting and—” She stopped when she saw them. “What's wrong?”

“Kelli talked with Brian. Brought up old memories.”

“Really?” Stephanie joined them on the bed. “I thought it was a puppy love thing, but you two must've been serious. I guess I should've known. He sure seemed like he'd do anything for you.”

Kelli lifted her head and looked at Stephanie. “What are you talking about?”

“That's why I've been trying to reach you two.” Stephanie plopped on the bed. “After the panel, I stood in line to talk to Monica. When it was my turn, I raved about you, said you found out about the conference late, didn't have time to submit a demo, and asked if she'd be willing to listen to you sing a couple of your songs.”

“She said yes?” Cyd asked.

“No. She gave me that look—like
I hear this all the time
—and politely blew me off. But that's when God showed up. I
told
y'all to believe. I am
all about
believing all things are possible now. I admit, I might've doubted a lit—”

“Steph.” Cyd gave her a look. “What happened?”

“Okay, okay. Brian came into the room again to talk to Rita. I introduced myself, told him I was Kelli's sister-in-law, what we were trying to do with her music, how Monica had declined—”

Kelli sat all the way up. “You didn't.”

“Girl, yes, I did. And we just hit it off. I mean, sorry, sounds like you've got issues with him, but he is such a nice guy. So get this . . .” Stephanie shifted. “He said he wants your music heard more than anything. He went over, talked to Monica, came back, and said she'd listen. Can you believe it?”

Cyd's mouth dropped. “That's incredible. So what now?”

“Monica said we could meet in twenty minutes, which was ten minutes ago. Kelli, this is the chance of a lifetime. I'm so excited for you.”

Kelli blew her nose. “I can't meet Monica in ten minutes. I don't even know if I want to. I'm not in the mood to sing.” She curled back into her ball. “I just want to go home.”

“Uh-uh.” Stephanie pulled her back up by the arm. “I'm all for a good pity party, but now ain't the time. Remember our prayer in the pancake house? We asked God if He had plans for your music. We said show us if the door is open or closed. Right now, it's still open. We can at least see what she says.”

Stephanie was right. Kelli had agreed to let God direct. She didn't want to retreat again. But . . . “I won't do it if Brian's there,” she said.

“Brian left. He's on his way back to St. Louis.”

Kelli sighed. At least the timing was good. Nothing Monica said could make her feel any worse. So what if her songs stank? There were much deeper things on her heart right now.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “That's what we're here for. As my brother would say, ‘Let's do this.'”

Stephanie tried to look sympathetic. “Except he'd have a tad more enthusiasm.”

K
ELLI CLUTCHED HER OLD STENO PAD FILLED WITH
songs as she, Cyd, and Stephanie walked into the ballroom. It was empty, with chandeliers overhead and tables pushed to the sides. Suddenly it hit her. Monica Styles would be listening to songs she'd written as a teenager, and she would pass judgment. Maybe Kelli couldn't feel any worse, but she sure felt stupid. She hadn't read any how-to handbooks before she'd written those songs. Hadn't been to a conference like this. She was just a young girl writing what was on her heart. An amateur. Maybe Monica would spare her by not laughing in her face.

“Let's pray real quick,” Cyd said.

The three moved closer and grabbed hands.

“Father,” Cyd began, “this is all about You and Your plans and purposes. Not Monica's and not even Kelli's. We're believing that You've given Kelli these songs, and we pray You will do exceeding abundantly with them, beyond what we could ask or think. Do it for Your glory, O God. In Jesus' name, amen.”

Kelli exhaled as the door opened. A woman stepped in and held the door for Monica, who was on her cell phone.

The woman walked over to them, extending her hand. “Hi, I'm Laura, Monica's assistant.”

The women introduced themselves, and they made small talk until Monica ended her call.

“Hey! How are y'all?” Monica asked, walking over to them.

They went to shake her hand, but Monica hugged them instead. “Good to meet you.” She wore a big smile. “So y'all go way back with Brian, huh? Any friend of Brian is a friend of mine.”

Kelli wasn't sure what to say, so she just smiled.

Stephanie stepped in. “Actually, Kelli's the one who's known Brian a long time. She's the songwriter I was telling you about.”

“I know I sounded skeptical when you told me,” Monica said. “Everybody knows a dope songwriter. But when
Brian
said she was dope, I had to listen. You might have the song I need!”

Kelli swallowed hard.

Monica was looking around. “Oh, good, there's the piano.” She looked at Kelli. “Brian said you play.”

“Cool,” Kelli said. “I thought I'd have to sing a cappella.”

“We know your time is limited,” Stephanie said, “so maybe we should get started.” She led the group to the piano. “How many songs would you like to hear?”

“Two or three are all I have time for.” Monica paused to read a text message, then lowered the phone. “And let me warn you, I'm blunt by nature, which I
try
to temper by grace.” She put a hand to Kelli's shoulder. “If I don't like it, I'll tell you.”

Kelli's heart pounded.

“Perfect,” Stephanie said. “We want the straight-up truth.” She looked at Kelli. “Ready?”

Kelli lifted the lid and sat at the piano, propping her steno pad on the stand. She'd skimmed through it before they left the room and chosen a few favorites. She was pretty sure she remembered how to play them—kind of like riding a bike. She was also pretty sure she remembered the words, but she wanted the pad in case her brain froze.

She went with a lively song first, one she called “Praise Him.”

Monica leaned against the piano, nodding her head. In no time she'd caught on to the lyrics and began singing along. But about two-thirds of the way through, she raised her hand for Kelli to stop.

“I really like that,” Monica said, “but I've got all the up-tempo songs I need on this album. The one I was about to record was a slow, worshipful type. Got any like that?”

Two came to mind, and Kelli chose the one she liked best.

Monica stared into the distance, listening, and looked at her phone when it rang—a tune that competed with Kelli's—but she didn't answer. Moments later, she raised her hand again and made a face. “It's cool, love the words, but the vibe isn't really me.” She looked at her assistant. “We got time for one more?”

Laura gave an iffy nod. “You'll have to jet right after. Next panel's about to start.”

Monica looked at Kelli. “Bring it, girl. Give me your best.”

Kelli nodded, staring at the keys.

Stephanie leaned over and whispered, “Kel, think Cinderella. You tried to shove those other songs into the slipper, and they didn't fit. Choose the one that fits, and you know what I'm talking about. Sing that wedding song.”

The jitters came instantly. It would be doubly hard to sing today, after seeing Brian. She closed her eyes.
Lord, help me. If You want me to sing it, You'll have to give me the strength
.

Taking a deep breath, she played the first notes.

After the first couple of bars, Monica glanced at her assistant and looked back down. When she shook her head, Kelli thought she was about to raise her hand again—and she did, this time in praise. She seemed lost in the song, and while she couldn't pick up all the words easily, she sang the repetitive parts of the chorus.

“I will love you . . . and I will love you . . . I will love you . . .
Yes!
”

Kelli peeked at Cyd and Stephanie, both of whom were about to jump out of their skin . . . and trying to hide it.

At the middle of the bridge, Monica shook her head again. “Stop. Just stop.”

The room fell silent. Kelli was confused. Didn't she like it?

“We've got to call Roxie,” Monica said to Laura. “She needs to hear this. Now.”

“I agree,” Laura said.

Monica pushed a button on her phone and waited. “Roxie, whatever you're doing, put it on pause. I got something for you . . . yes, you need to hear this . . . no, just listen. One second.” She put the phone on the piano. “You mind starting from the top, Kelli?”