Cherished (23 page)

She couldn't stop thinking about it as she pulled in front of Brian's house. There was another whole side of her about which Miles knew nothing, the side that held her deepest thoughts, hurts, and dreams. Only one person knew Kelli fully.

Brian's front door opened, and he poked his head out. “Coming in anytime soon?”

Kelli grabbed her purse, change of clothes, and old notepad from the passenger seat, then stepped out. “Hi, Brian.”

“Hey. Don't you look cute.” He held the door for her, smiling as she walked up. “You didn't have to dress up for our session, you know.”

“Ha-ha.” She lifted the jeans and shirt she was holding. “Can I use your bathroom?”

When she came out, Brian was standing in the kitchen eating a fast-food sandwich.

“Where's Grandma Howard?”

“Still at church. They've got noonday prayer now, and she likes to make it as often as she can.”

“She amazes me. Always on the go.” Kelli eyed his food. “So you thought you'd sneak that in while she's gone?”

He popped the last bite into his mouth. “She still gives me a hard time about fast food. Thinks I should eat leftovers every day for lunch.” He took a drink of his soda. “How was your lunch?”

She set her clothes on a kitchen chair. “No job leads.”

“Yet,” he said. “I'm praying for you.” He balled up his trash and threw it away. “Ready to get to work?”

Kelli followed him downstairs. “I'm ready. Did that producer send some samples?”

She couldn't believe that all she had to do was call the producer's voice mail and sing the chorus she'd gotten in her head on Sunday, and he'd put together music tracks that fit the melody.

“He e-mailed three. I already listened, and there's one I think is perfect.” Brian plopped into his swivel chair. “But I won't say anything. Wanna see what you think.”

Brian played the first one, and Kelli stared at the floor as she listened. She liked the beat well enough, but when it got to the chorus, she wasn't sure about it. She sang along anyway, trying to tweak it to make it fit. She looked at Brian and shrugged. “It's okay.”

“Here's the next one.”

Two seconds in, she was nodding her head. “Ooh, I love this.” She looked at Brian. “You hear that string arrangement?”

Brian's feet were propped up on a stool. “The strings are dope.”

Kelli heard some ad-libs in her head that she could sing during Brian's verse and tried them out.

“Aww, Kel, that ‘oh-oh' thing you just did . . . on the money.”

She sang the chorus, and it dropped perfectly into the musical arrangement. “I don't know what the next sample sounds like, but there's no way it could be better than this one. This is our track.”

He smiled. “Exactly. I knew I wouldn't have to bother playing the third.”

“So we've got the track and the hook. What about your part?”

Brian turned off the music and pulled his Bible from the desk. “Okay, so we're doing this love letter to the suffering, which is something we all have to go through. Philippians 1:29 says we're called to believe and suffer for Jesus' name.” He flipped some pages. “First Peter really rocked me as I studied—the comparison between suffering for doing what's right, which finds favor with God, and suffering because you've done wrong.” He looked at Kelli. “I know what the latter feels like. I built my verses around that juxtaposition.” He passed a notepad to her.

She raised an eyebrow. “You've got a notepad now?”

“Comes in handy, you know?”

She had to smile.

Kelli looked at the lyrics, lines that spoke of being brought low and treated badly because of something “you knew you shouldn't have done, a wrong move you couldn't outrun.” Then they flipped to school and the workplace, standing for Christ, suffering ridicule and rejection. Kelli could hear the chorus kick in.
You're blessed . . . rejoice . . . when you suffer . . . you are blessed .
. .

She pondered the lyrics more before looking at him. “I have a confession.”

Brian looked at her.

“When I first heard you were doing Christian rap, I thought it would be a lot of fluff with a good beat. But I listened to a couple of your songs on iTunes, and working with you now”—she paused—“it's more like theology with a beat. God is really using you.”

“You too, Kel.” Brian's eyes penetrated. “You're stepping into what you were always meant to do. Remember how you dreamed of music as a career?”

His question landed deep. She'd dared to dream that dream for a little while, but she didn't dare embrace it again. This was a temporary project.
Brian's
project. She would help him and, in the best of scenarios, might even enjoy it. But her career lay elsewhere.

“I remember,” she answered, “but we dream a lot of things in our youth that don't pan out. You were sure you'd be a scientist.”

“I still might be—hey, that reminds me,” he said suddenly. “This is the last week for that body exhibit at the Science Center. Will you go with me if we get done before too late?”

“I can't, Brian.”

“Why not?”

“It would seem like we're jumping back into the way things used to be, and things aren't the way they used to be.”

His face fell. “But we're working together. We're becoming friends again. Aren't we?”

“Working together, yes. Friends?” She turned it over in her mind. “On a certain level, I guess. But there's so much water under the bridge. I don't see how it could ever be the friendship it once was.”

He turned toward the console. “Guess we couldn't have picked a better day to record
this
love letter.” His cell phone rang, and he looked to see who it was. “I need to get this.”

Kelli's thoughts lingered around her last statement. Was she as sure as she sounded?

“So you're coming Friday morning?” Brian was saying. “Sounds like a plan. Yeah, we can all ride together . . . I'm looking forward to it too. It'll be fun. What's that? . . . Oh, I'll have to tell you about it. I feel like I'm finally rolling on this album.” He listened. “I'm not sure. Kelli will be doing the singing, at least most of it.”

Kelli's eyebrows lifted. She had the impression she'd be on all of it.

“Kelli,” Brian was saying, “the one who gave you that song.”

Monica
. Interesting.

“We can talk about it . . . Okay.”

Brian hung up, his eyes on the equipment. “We'll lay down the hook first. I think we'll be able to knock the whole song out in a few hours. That'll be two down. I'm pumped.”

Kelli nodded. Where was Brian going Friday? Was Monica asking to sing on his album? What did he think about that?

In the past he wouldn't have hesitated to share his life, his schedule, his thoughts. And she wouldn't have hesitated to ask. But hadn't she just told him their friendship wasn't the same? Apparently, he was abiding by that. Also apparent—he had someone else to fill the gap.

K
ELLI WAS ALMOST HOME AFTER SIX HOURS IN THE
studio with Brian. They'd indeed finished the song, the process generating one creative idea after another. What they ended up with far surpassed what they'd imagined.

Her phone rang as she turned onto her street, and she slowed to look at it.
Cedric
.

“Hey, I'm almost home,” she said.

“I'm on my way to church. We've got a meeting to talk about the new ministry. And when I talked to Doug earlier, it sounded like there could be an opportunity for you. Can you come up here and talk to him?”

She pulled up to the curb. “What kind of opportunity? And who's Doug?”

“He's Director of Communications at Living Word. Not exactly sure what the opportunity might entail, but you should meet him.”

Cedric was all about networking. Granted, it was his line of business, but she hated to get her hopes up for nothing. “Well, okay. I guess I can meet you there.”

“We'll be in the main building, second floor. Once you pass the classrooms, you'll see a conference room. Bring your résumé. And, Kelli?”

“Make a good impression.”

“Riiight.”

Kelli chuckled. Cedric had been drumming that in her head from the time she interviewed for her first job in high school—look the part in any interview situation, even if it wasn't official. She ran into the house and changed back into her skirt, yelling a “Hey!” at Cyd and telling where she was headed. Something yummy awaited on the stove, reminding her she was starving—but for now, a banana would have to hold her.

Kelli pulled into the parking lot at church, surprised to see so many cars until she remembered that the choir rehearsed on Thursday evenings. She drove to the familiar area of the lot. She and her family not only inhabited the same pew but the same parking spaces when they could get them. She spotted Cedric's and Scott's cars near one another and parked by them. In the building, before she took the stairs, she took a peek inside the sanctuary. Logan was at the piano, directing the choir in a song that was building. At its height he cut it off.

“Right there,” he said. “Sopranos only until the next measure, then my altos kick back in,
then
my tenors and basses. You almost had it, but I know I heard a few bottom voices in there.”

Kelli ducked back out and headed up. She couldn't help but think how nice it would be if Heather still attended Living Word and sang in the choir. But she knew how painful that would be for Dana . . .

The door to the meeting room stood ajar, and Kelli could see a few people milling about. Cedric and Scott spotted her and introduced her to Doug, Karen the graphic design specialist, and Waylan, who handled web design.

Doug looked to be in his thirties and was a hair shorter than Kelli, with one of those faces that seemed to always be smiling. “Cedric tells me you've been job hunting, looking for something in the area of public relations and communications?”

“Yes, the search has been harder than I anticipated. Most companies simply aren't hiring, and those that are want three- to five-years' experience.”

“Been there. Went through the same thing out of school. You just want to scream, ‘Somebody, please give me a chance.'”

“Exactly!” Kelli wagged a finger. “Haven't tried the scream yet. Maybe I should.”

“Our communications staff is basically Waylan, Karen, and me, and we're overworked. We'd love to hire a full-time communications assistant, but it's currently not in the budget. We can bring someone on board part-time, though.” His smile turned apologetic. “Is that something you'd be remotely interested in?”

Kelli's face lit up. “Absolutely. I'd love to be part of the team. That is, if you find me suitable.”

“Tell you what. Why don't you sit in on the meeting, get a feel for some of what we do, chip in if you want. Afterward, we'll talk a little more.”

Everyone moved to a seat at the oblong table in the middle of the room, pens and pads in front of them, along with coffee cups and water.

Doug spoke first. “We scheduled this meeting to play catch-up. By the looks of things, this ministry for young men has tapped into a felt need. Not only was the first day of sign-ups huge, but we've fielded a lot of calls since from people interested in participating.”

“That's incredible,” Cedric said. “So what are you thinking we need to do next?”

“Initially, we thought we'd start with the usual—the printed brochures and flyers we gave you, an information page on the church website. But with this kind of interest, we want to ramp it up. Roll out the ministry with a dedicated web presence like we do for our teen ministry. Plus we'd like to shoot a video that'll play on the site's home page.”

Cedric was nodding. “I'm tracking with you. Very cool.”

“What are you thinking for the video?” Scott asked.

“From what you two have told us,” Doug said, “one of the central themes for the ministry is choices. Guys between eighteen and twenty-five are faced with choices that could impact them for the rest of their lives, and the ministry aims to help them make the right ones. Am I right?”

“Exactly,” Scott said. “In fact, we're planning to kick it off with a series of speakers who will share their own stories of choices they've made, some good, some bad, that'll hopefully inspire the guys to take the right course.”

“Awesome.” Doug scribbled some notes. “So the video could feature snippets of those stories, or maybe just one story.”

Kelli raised a finger, and Doug nodded.

“You could even think about writing a short script and filming a vignette in addition to that. There's something compelling about seeing a story acted out.”

“I like that a lot.” Doug wrote something in the margin, then looked at Cedric and Scott. “As the leaders, might make sense for one or both of you to share some of your story in the video.”