The Plan (18 page)

Tears rimmed Claire's eyes. She blinked rapidly to keep them from falling.

“Hold on,” Callum continued, speaking directly into Claire's soul. “There are better days ahead. If you feel you can barely move forward, take baby steps.” He chuckled. “And just by doing that, you'll be doing more than I can do!”

Callum paused, his face growing serious again. “Listen to me. If you don't
know how to help yourself, help someone else. Look around you. There's no shortage of pain in this world. Find power in your pain. Find a purpose
for
your pain.” He let his gaze scan the crowd. “Feel like your life is lacking in blessings? How about becoming one of those blessings for someone else?”

•  •  •

Claire watched as the line to speak to Callum grew. She'd love to have some time to meet with him, herself, but by the looks of that line, her chances were slim, even if she waited for hours. Callum had been right. There was a lot of pain in this world and people, it seemed, wanted to share some of theirs with him.

Perhaps, tomorrow, after the longer training session he was conducting, there'd be time to meet him. Though she hadn't initially been certain she'd attend the second day, it had only taken five minutes of listening to Callum to change her mind. She was drawn to him and what he had to say.

Claire hoped she'd have the chance to thank him. He hadn't done anything remarkable on that stage. He hadn't done a juggling act with his one arm. There'd been no one-handed handstand. All he'd done was speak the truth and remind the crowd that everyone can hold on to hope. In a world full of lies, deception and selfish endeavors, his brand of selflessness and optimism was refreshing. He had no time to feel sorry for himself and he'd made an incredible case on why those in the audience shouldn't, either, no matter what their life circumstances. Life was short, something Claire knew all too well. He'd asked the crowd to ponder how they were going to spend it. Were they going to wallow in their misery? Or were they going to grow and become the best version of themselves? Someone who would make those they loved, especially those who might've been lost, proud of them. It was something Claire had absolutely, positively, needed to hear.

She looked toward the piano and saw that the small man had returned and was beginning to play softly.

I should go home,
Claire thought.
I have things I have to do there.

But then, she realized, she really didn't. There was nothing she had to do.
At all.
No one waiting on her. No one who needed her.

Claire suddenly knew she wanted to be needed. She
needed
to be needed.

Maybe, as Callum had said, she
was
needed. Maybe not at her house. Maybe no longer by her husband and her children. But maybe
somewhere.

Mustering all the courage she could find in her slender body, Claire stood, picked up her purse and marched down the aisle toward the piano. She walked quickly so as not to lose her nerve before she even made it halfway down the stairs.

She tiptoed up the four steps to the stage. Gently, she tapped the pianist on his shoulder. He turned gracefully, his hands continuing to glide across the keys.

He smiled at her. A wide grin under a full, brown, neatly trimmed beard. A smile that said to Claire, “I know you and I know why you're here.”

Though, of course, he didn't. But Claire did. She knew why she was standing behind this man. What she needed to do. What she needed to say.

“Hi,” Claire said, as clearly as she could. She would not let herself cry. She took a deep breath. “I'm Claire.” She took another deep breath. “I'm Claire and I sing.”

The line was growing shorter and, for that, Callum was grateful. He loved to greet the people after a speech, loved to listen to how his talk had motivated them to make changes in their lives. He empathized with their stories of sadness and hardship. They hugged him. He hugged them back. And he hugged. And he hugged. He sat on a table so he could be closer to their height, but still his back ached from the leaning that was involved in all that hugging, especially when balancing on his stumps was already an issue.

“Hey, boss.” Callum felt a tap on his shoulder and knew it was Wyatt coming to rescue him. There were only a few people left in line and Callum was ready to go back to his room at the hotel and call it a night. No matter how enjoyable these talks were, they were exhausting. Callum imagined anyone would be tired after speaking to a crowd of a couple thousand for almost an hour and then, spending another hour or two meeting with those people individually. And this was only the beginning. He still had all of tomorrow's workshop to go. His events were especially exhausting on a body like his and that was precisely why Callum employed Mitch. If not for his assistant, Callum would be physically depleted before he even got on the stage. In his mind, that wouldn't be fair to the crowd who'd come to see him. He knew they'd spent their hard-earned money to do so.

If Callum could afford to run these events for free, he would. He wasn't in it for the money. He already had enough of that to live comfortably.
He'd written two books over the years and both of them had been quite successful. He could easily live off those royalties for quite a while, until he needed to write another book. But he wasn't just supporting himself. He had a staff that needed to be paid. And travel expenses. And venues that needed to be rented. Not to mention the money that was used to help those with disabilities similar to his own. The money people paid to attend his events went to cover all of those costs.

“I'm just about done here,” Callum whispered back to him. “Can you pull the van around? I'm pooped. Ready to watch some mindless TV tonight.”

“Yeah, well,” Wyatt drawled in the way he often did. “That TV might have to wait a bit.”

“You're kidding,” Callum said, gesturing to the young woman next in line that he'd be right with her.

“Nope. But, it's for a good cause. Frank has someone he'd like you to meet. Let's finish up here and then I'll take you to them. They're in one of the back rooms.”

Wyatt stood in silence as Callum patiently spoke and hugged the woman. After her, there was one small boy, who only wanted to have his photo taken with Callum and then they were done.

Wyatt had Callum's wheelchair poised and ready to go when Callum turned around.

“You read my mind.”

“Anything for you, boss,” Wyatt said, steadying himself for Callum to hold onto as he jumped down into the seat of his chair. “Vamonos.”

•  •  •

The first thing Callum noticed about Claire wasn't something he saw, but rather, something he heard. As he rolled beside Wyatt, down one of the back halls of the auditorium, the sweet sounds of “Amazing Grace” floated toward him, filling his body with joy.

“Wow!” Callum said to Wyatt.

Wyatt nodded as they reached the room at the far end. There was a window along the side of the door, fortunately low enough so Callum could see inside. All they could see was Frank's back, as he played, and the back of the woman standing beside him. She was slender and slight, with long, brown hair flowing halfway down her back. She also had a nice bum. Callum couldn't help but notice the bum.

“When we've been there ten thousand years, Bright shining as the sun. We've no less days to sing God's praise, than when we've first begun…”

The voice faded away as Frank tinkled the last few notes of the song, which had always been a favorite of Callum's. He saw Frank look up at the woman and say something. He wasn't sure of the words Frank used, but by the look on his face, Callum knew what they contained.

Wyatt turned the handle on the door and held it open for Callum so he could roll in. At the hum of the wheelchair, the woman turned around, her eyes meeting Callum's.

They were brown. And warm. And perhaps a bit sad.

Callum had never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.

“Callum,” Frank said, an enormous smile on his lips that reached from one side of his beard to the other. “I'm glad you're here. This is Claire Matthews. Ms. Matthews, this is Callum Fitzgerald.”

The woman smiled shyly at Callum as he rolled toward her, extending his hand. She reached out to shake it. Her touch was gentle, while his was firm.

“Ms. Matthews,” Callum began.

“Claire,” she interrupted. “Please call me Claire.”

“Okay, Claire. You have an amazing voice. And I'm not just saying that because we're in search of a vocalist. I mean, that was…well,
amazing.”

“You said that already,” Wyatt joked from behind him.

“Wasn't it amazing, though?” Callum asked, glancing back at Wyatt.

Wyatt, a smirk on his face, nodded.
“Amazing.”

“Yes, amazing….so…Frank?” Callum stuttered as he looked at his pianist for guidance. “I mean, I know this is really up to you, but…”

“Are you asking me if I offered the position to Ms. Matthews?”

“Claire,” Claire repeated.

“Yes. Did you offer the position to Claire?”

“I certainly did.”

“And?” Callum and Wyatt said at the exact same moment, their eyes boring into the attractive woman.

Claire looked from one man to the other. There was such a contrast in their appearances. One so tall and big, in cowboy boots, and the other, more handsome than the first, seated in that wheelchair. She liked them both, instantly.

“Well…I don't really know what to say.” Claire didn't mean to sound so shy and indecisive. But truly, she
didn't
know what to say. She hadn't arrived here looking for a job. And this appeared to be much more than a regular job. Was she really about to change her entire life in such a drastic way?

“Yes,” Callum said. “Or, as we'd say in Ireland, ‘Aye.' Not to be presumptuous, but you should say ‘aye.' ”

“Okay, then,” she said, shrugging as lazily as if he'd simply suggested she try the new flavor of ice cream at Baskin-Robbins, instead of asking her to step off a metaphorical cliff. “Aye.”

“Hot
damn,”
Wyatt said, slapping his hands together in celebration. “We've got us a new singer.”

“Welcome to the team, Ms. Matthews.” Callum put his hand out, again, to Claire and she shook it, a sign of their verbal contract.

“Claire,” she corrected softly.

“Claire,” Callum said again, as he stared into her eyes. Eyes that
reminded him of sunlight shining through Irish whiskey. He felt something. He didn't know what it was. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before. But he knew, in that instant, it was a feeling he never, ever wanted to lose.

•  •  •

“Please tell me this is a joke!” Gia said as soon as Claire opened the door to her house to let her best friend in. Gia kicked her flip-flops off at the front door and stormed past Claire, glancing at the suitcases parked in the hall.

“It's not a joke,” Claire said. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Go on. Tell me you're kidding,” Gia said, ignoring Claire's question. “You can't be serious about this.”

“I can and I am.”

“Were you drinking the night you went to hear this guy?”

“Of course not.”

Gia gave Claire a look that indicated her question was not so out of the realm of possibility.

“What about Kool-Aid? Did they give you some sort of fruit punch as you walked in the door?”

“Gia, be real. I was not drunk and they didn't brainwash me. Come upstairs. I still have a few things I need to pack.” She began to walk up the stairs and Gia hurried to catch up with her.

“You don't even know these people! They could be convicted criminals. They could be whisking you away to the far ends of the earth where they'll sell you as a sex slave.”

Claire paused her packing to give Gia a disbelieving look.

“You need to stop watching so many crime dramas. Didn't you Google them after I called you?”

“Yes.”

“So, what's the problem?” Claire asked, opening the top drawer of her dresser and pulling out a stack full of panties and bras.

“It's crazy. This idea is so nuts! Is this because I got so mad at you the other night? I shouldn't have done that. I'm really sorry.”

“Of course it has nothing to do with that. You had every right to be mad at me. I'm a complete drain on you. And you're the one who told me I needed to get out more!” Claire said, shoving the underwear into the top pocket of the suitcase.

“You are
not
a drain on me. And I meant shop at the mall. Get your hair done. Go to the dentist! Why would you go away with a bunch of strangers to foreign countries with no plan on when you'll be coming back? You have friends here who love you. You have a life here.”

Claire stopped packing and looked straight into Gia's eyes, which were now crazed with hysteria.

“No, I don't. I lost my entire life when I lost my family.”

“You didn't lose yourself,” Gia shot back.

“That's exactly what I lost. I lost me. Who I was, who I hoped to be. I lost everything. There's nothing here for me anymore.”

Gia's tone dropped from one of panic to sadness. “Don't say that.”

Claire sat down on the bed, next to her full suitcase. “It's true. There's nothing but memories of a life I can never have again. You were right. I don't
do
anything. I don't
go
anywhere.”

“I was being too harsh. You went out to that barbecue the other night.”

As she turned toward Gia, the expression on Claire's face made Gia squirm.

“Okay, okay. Bad example. But we've gone out to dinner. And last month I convinced you to go to that cute new shop that opened downtown.”