Grounded (20 page)

“Grace! What a great idea.”

“Yeah, well, maybe, maybe not. Half the guys in my band hadn't heard of some of the songs I chose. So it probably won't be a walk down memory lane for today's crop of Greenville students.”

“Hey, shoot me the song list, will you? I still think it's a great idea. We need to keep some of these classics alive. They'll love it.”

“Okay.” Grace felt warmed by his support. “I'm kind of glad this first concert after my sabbatical is Greenville. The college isn't that big so it'll be a small crowd.”

“Let's see … they've got you in the LaDue Auditorium. How large is that?”

“Mm, I'm guessing it holds four hundred, give or take. If the crowd is smaller than that”—she grinned at the thought—“they'll probably move us to the Blackroom. It's a professional performance space with great sound and lighting, mostly for campus groups, but quite a bit smaller than LaDue. I gave a few concerts there when I was a student.”

“So this will be quite a homecoming.”

I laughed. “I doubt it. After all, that was almost ten years ago. Nobody there would know me personally except maybe a few of my old profs.”

“But you might have a whole new crop of fans.”

“Thanks, we'll see. Well … guess I better let you go—”

“No, no, no. Hold on. I was going to call you today, remember? Because I've got a new venue for you—a church in St. Louis. They had to cancel a band that got into some legal trouble, and called Bongo asking if we had an artist who could fill in. When I told them Grace Meredith might be available, they got very excited. Just got the official invitation this week.”

Grace's mouth went dry. “When?” It came out almost in a whisper. But Jeff didn't seem to notice.

“Uhh … first Saturday in April, two weeks away. That's after the Cincinnati concert but still a few weeks before you leave on your West Coast tour. It's a really great opportunity for you, Grace.”

She was silent for a long minute.

“Grace? Look, if this is too much, you don't have to do it. But to be honest, I've been worried about the impact the cancellations might have on other opportunities—word tends to get around. This invitation gives you a chance to say, ‘I'm back!' Still … it's up to you. I mean it.”

“Uh, when do they need to know?”

He snorted. “Yesterday. But seriously, by tomorrow or Friday if at all possible. I'm really sorry for the crunch. Wouldn't do it if it wasn't such a great opportunity.”

Tomorrow!
But he did say St. Louis. That was still within driving distance of Chicago. She wouldn't have to pass through an airport …

Samantha picked her up at nine the next morning in a rental, a comfortable road car with a CD player and a handy GPS. She'd brought a stack of gospel CDs—“To get us in the mood!” she laughed. “Hey, don't we have to take Oreo to that cat boarding place? Or did you ask a neighbor to come in and do scooper duty?”

Grace shook her head as she snapped her seat belt. “Don't really know anyone around here well enough to give them the key to my house. My brother said he could stop by this weekend—but fat lot of good that'd do since we're coming home on Saturday. Oreo will be fine for three days. I left lots of food and water.”

“Ooh, living dangerously. Will your curtains survive?”

“Just drive.” Grace settled into the passenger seat, enjoying the smell of new leather—like the rustic smell of the tack room in a riding stable. That took her back—back before … everything.

She had looked forward to the drive, but the temperature had dropped back into the forties and the forecast said strong winds. It wasn't so bad going through the city, but once they were on Route 57 heading south through midwestern flatlands, the unhindered wind shook the car relentlessly and Sam had to white-knuckle the wheel, especially after a large semi roared past and they nearly got blown off the road in its wake.

Grace chewed on a thumbnail and stared out the side window.

“All right now, God,” Sam said loudly, gripping the wheel as another truck flew past, “we've got two of your daughters here in this car, and we need some of those guardian angels the Bible talks about. We're on our way to do the Father's business, so we're asking
for your protection from wind, from any crazy drivers, from accidents, from flat tires, or any other thing that ol' Satan might try to throw at us to keep us from doing your will. So I'm thankin' you now for keeping us safe!”

Grace almost laughed. It was such an in-your-face prayer—but she murmured, “Amen,” and then eyed Sam sideways. “Wish I could pray like you.”

“Like me? What do you mean?”

“So confident that God's listening. Going to take care of it.”

Sam tossed her a look. “Well, of course he's listening! That's what prayer is, talking to God, just telling him whatever's on your heart.”

Grace glanced away. “I know.” How could she tell Sam she felt uncertain whether she
was
on “the Father's business”? She'd thought so, fulfilling her mission to share God's purity message with a new generation of young people. But it all seemed to fall apart so quickly after her last tour. So what was she doing now? Just doing her job? Just fulfilling her commitments? Was God—
would
God still bless her concerts? Or was she still paying for the past?

She still hadn't called Jeff with an answer for the church in St. Louis. She wanted to talk it over with Sam first, ask her to pray about it with her straightforward trust that God cares and would answer. But while Sam was keeping the car on the road under high-wind conditions didn't seem like the time.

They pulled off at Champaign-Urbana, home to the University of Illinois, to get some lunch, and Grace finally brought up the St. Louis option over fish burgers and milkshakes.

Sam licked her fingers and chewed. “Pretty cheeky to expect you to show up with only two weeks' notice. Maybe you should check with the band.”

Check with the band
… of course. If they couldn't go, her only option would be tracks. Not her preferred approach. She loved the immediacy and energy of performing with a band. “What about you? Is the distance drivable?”

Sam stopped chewing, her eyes on Grace. “Okay, can I be honest here? I wasn't exactly hired to be your driver—not that I'm
complaining about this weekend, mind you. I offered. But I don't know, Grace … I'm not really enjoying this drive.”

Grace grimaced. “I know. I'm sorry, Sam—”

“Okay, look. I'm not saying no. But, talk to Barry and the band, see what they say, and … let's pray about it. That's the bottom line anyway. Is this the Father's business? When do you have to give an answer?”

“Today. Tomorrow latest.”

“
Today!
” Sam snorted. “Oh, brother. No time to waste.” She reached for Grace's hand, bowed her head right there in the fast-food place, and asked God to show them the path to take.

By the time they got back on the road, the wind had died down and the traffic had lightened up. “Thank you, Jesus!” Sam laughed. “Maybe God's giving us a thumbs-up about that trip to St. Louis.” She stuck a WOW Gospel CD with last year's gospel hits into the player and happily sang along with Marvin Sapp and Nicole Mullen. “I don't have to save my voice, so there,” she laughed.

Understatement. Sam had a good, strong voice.

They pulled into the parking lot of the hotel around two thirty. Grace raised an eyebrow. “Super 8?”

Sam shrugged as she unloaded the luggage from the trunk. “Best I could find close to the campus. It's Greenville. Not that many options. If you'd rather try further away …”

“No, no, it's fine.” And it was. Clean rooms side by side. Comfy bed. A couple restaurants close by. Complimentary breakfast. Had she been getting spoiled by the higher-end hotels on the New Year, New You tour in major cities? Probably. How many other ways had she let her recent success go to her head?

Sam called Barry and put the phone on speaker. The band was on the road and would be getting in later that evening. They planned to set up in the college auditorium the next morning and be ready to practice with Grace by eleven. “Great,” Sam said. “But hold on. Grace wants to talk to you.”

“Whoa!” Barry said after Grace outlined the invitation from the St. Louis church. “The guys were just talkin' about doin' some local gigs in Chicago before the West Coast tour. But … St. Louis? I've
heard of that church you mentioned. Some big names have done concerts there. I think the guys would buy it. We could drive the van—don't think it's much further than Greenville, maybe another hour. The local gigs don't pay anything anyway. So … make up your mind and let us know. By tomorrow, though.”

Grace handed the phone back and eyed Samantha. “So … what do you think?” She'd been half hoping the band was already booked so she'd have an excuse to say no.

Sam tossed her corkscrew twists with a grin. “Looks like the door's still standing open—and I always say, if God opens a door, walk through it unless it closes in your face. Who knows what hearts are waiting to be touched by your songs in St. Louis? I say go for it! We can figure out how to get there later. Maybe the band can squeeze us into the van this once?”

Grace looked at her, wide-eyed. “There's barely room for the guys and their Cheetos.”

“We could always ride on top,” said Sam with a laugh, and Grace soon joined her.

It was exactly the kind of lighthearted moment Grace needed.

Grace was nervous as she waited for the signal to come out on stage at the LaDue Auditorium the next evening. Good grief. What was she nervous for? The Greenville people she'd met that day, both staff and students, had been warm and friendly—like the weather, which had hiked back up into the mid-sixties. “It's a real encouragement for one of our own who's making it on the CCM circuit to come back,” the college choral director had said.

Samantha peeked and said the auditorium was filling with “a nice crowd”—Sam-speak meaning it wasn't packed. Okay. A nice crowd. Grace was actually grateful. Not too large, not too small. Just right for getting her feet back on the ground.

She'd agonized about what to wear. This was a college campus. Dress up? Dress down? She'd finally decided on casual black jeans
and ankle boots, a white tunic with embroidered neck and sleeves to dress it up, and her hair down and casual in its long shag style.

Father God
, she prayed silently as she waited in the wings, imitating some of Sam's prayer-isms,
I do want to be about your business. So I dedicate this evening to you, even though
—Grace hesitated—
even though I've been kind of out of touch lately
. A paraphrase of Psalm 49 seemed a good way to finish her prayer.
Let the songs of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be acceptable to you tonight, O Lord—

“Grace, you're on,” Sam whispered, giving her a little push.

Grace walked out onto the stage, momentarily blinded by the spotlights. But as her eyes adjusted, she saw big smiles on the faces of students and older adults alike, heard the warm clapping. Closing her eyes for a moment and drawing in a slow breath, she waited as Petey and the rest of the band gave her a short intro, and then she began …

“Over the mountains and the sea, your river runs with love for me …”

As the song welled up in her spirit, Grace almost felt she was singing in a bubble. Nothing mattered but the song. But as she got to the chorus, the music seemed to swell even louder. Opening her eyes, she realized the entire auditorium was on its feet singing along. She felt lifted …

“I will sing of your love forever … !”