“Wow. Darcy’s more spastic than I remember.” Dillon snorts.
“I think she was nervous.” I glance back one more time to the spot where Darcy disappeared and then make my final trek to the row of saved seats.
“You made it!” Doreen beams as I take the chair next to her. “I cannot wait for you to see what Pastor does up there.” She pats my leg, practically hopping in her seat. “And don’t worry, we made sure to get seats far back from the flying wood chips.”
“They reach this far?”
“Oh yes. Poor Cameron got showered last year onstage. Never missed a beat with his violin, though. Impressive boy. Looks like they moved him over a few feet this year.” She glances toward the stage, and my stomach plummets as I follow her line of sight. Surely it’s not him playing this year. Not after resigning . . .
But there he stands. Beautiful, artistic, and completely focused on whatever discussion he’s having with the cello player next to him.
No wonder Darcy was nervous. She knew Cameron was here.
Any chance of focusing on the service is long gone. My eyes refuse to move. They take in his head, his hands, even his shoes. He’s the same and yet different in a way most people wouldn’t notice but I see immediately. His hair’s longer, a shaggy style that reminds me too much of Bryson. And he looks anxious. His finger keeps tapping his leg as if it’s searching for a beat it can’t find.
“Just because he’s here doesn’t mean you have to talk to him.” Dillon’s voice is soft next to my ear. “We can sneak out before the lights turn back on.”
I swallow down the heartbreak I’d hoped was gone. It has been nearly two months since Cameron walked out of my cabin, which is two weeks longer apart than we even were together. The pain in my chest should not be so severe.
“No, it’s okay,” I say, though I really want to take Dillon up on his offer. I know what tonight means for Doreen, to have us all together. I won’t take that from her, no matter how painful it might be.
Dillon slumps back in his chair, and I swear his forearms flex like he’s barely keeping his hands from curling into fists.
I twist in my seat, grateful for a reason to stop looking at the stage and, more importantly, the man who walked away. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” Dillon rolls his shoulders, but it doesn’t seem to relax him.
“Liar. You’re practically a statue, your muscles are so tense.” I reach out and playfully massage his shoulder. Actually, it’s more a tickle, but we both need a distraction.
He flinches and puts up his arm to ward off my assault. “Stop it,” he grumbles, but his lips have turned upward. “Seriously.” He bats my hand away. “You’re not five.”
“And it’s not your ex up there onstage, so I don’t get why you’re all huffy.” I spin back around and fold my arms across my chest. I immediately regret the decision to do so as my gaze travels right back to Cameron. He’s sitting now, his face obscured by the music stand in front of him.
Dillon sighs. “I don’t like seeing you upset.”
I turn my head and smile at the man who’s become my best friend. “I’m not upset. Surprised is all.”
“I guess this means you’re not going to the party?”
“I guess.” I look up at the dimming lights but don’t feel any less conflicted. Darcy doesn’t have a vindictive bone in her body, so why would she invite me somewhere she knew Cameron would be? It doesn’t make sense, unless . . . My mind floods with the possibilities: he’s left the band, came home, wants me back?
I don’t have time to even consider that last thought because the sound of Cameron’s violin steals the air out of the massive auditorium. And as it always does when he plays, my world ceases to exist. All I see is the stage, Pastor Thomas, and a cross waiting to be made.
thirty-nine
I didn’t run into Cameron at the cross service but know that will not be the case at Darcy’s party. At least fifty cars are parked in the field along a cow fence, and two more came in behind me. Hanging lights illuminate the exterior of a massive barn and makeshift stage set up only ten feet away from the structure.
I slam my car door and wonder for the fifteenth time why I chose to come. And even though I still can’t conjure a reasonable excuse, a truth I can’t deny sits heavy on my shoulders: I want Cameron to know I’ve changed. I want him to know I now understand why his faith mattered and why he had to walk away. I want to thank him for treating me so honorably when no one had before.
The two couples who drove in after me are now five steps ahead, so I follow them into a space far too big to ever feel crowded. The sweet scent of barbecue attacks my senses, as does the sting of an electric guitar. Black Carousel is onstage, Bryson belting out a cover of “Sweet Home Alabama” to a cheering crowd. I take in the whole picture, Cameron to his right, sweat-drenched hair flopping over his eyes as his hand trails up and down the guitar’s neck.
The energy I felt months ago in Cameron’s small apartment is closer to an electric current now. It courses through my chest and down my arms. My fingers and legs tingle, and I find myself wanting to scream the lyrics along with the crowd. This is not the same band I saw at the College Street Pub. Not even close. But since standing like a groupie in front of Cameron and Bryson is too humiliating to endure, I ease through the masses until the music becomes a decibel lower and random conversations take up the bulk of the sound.
I find Darcy inside the barn, collecting the cash and handing out paperware for the barbecue buffet.
“One, please,” I say when it’s my turn at the front of the line.
Darcy glances up from her money box and smiles as bright as the portable lights outside. “Give me two seconds and I’ll eat with you.” I hand over my twenty-dollar bill, but she shoos it away. “You’re my guest. Dinner is my treat tonight.” She turns to her partner, a middle-aged lady with weathered skin and her hair in a messy ponytail. Darcy calls her Laurette when she tells her she’s taking a short break, and I vaguely remember that being her boss’s name. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s hit the desserts before they’re all gone.”
We travel through the line, and before it ends, my plate is overflowing with brisket, beans, coleslaw, and bread.
“How’s the fundraising going?” I ask, mostly because I imagine this much food was a huge investment.
“Beyond expectation. We’ve already raised fifteen hundred, and the to-go plate requests keep coming.” She shakes her head. “When my boss offered to host this thing for me, I had no idea it would be so huge. She got a local barbecue place to donate the food, Grace Community let me use the tables, and the band was free, of course, so all I had to pay for was renting the stage and buying all the paper goods.” She sets her plate on one of the few open spaces and plops onto the seat across from me. “Which means I’m done. My goal is finally met. I can’t even believe it.”
“When do you leave?”
“June second. Forty-five days and I’ll be a full-fledged missionary.” She bows her head and says a silent prayer so quick I barely register what she’s doing. I’m sure her silence is out of respect for me. No doubt Cameron told her my little secret. I should probably say something, or at least give her permission to speak out loud, but it feels too contrived in this atmosphere.
“That’s a huge accomplishment, Darcy. You should feel really proud.”
“Well, terrified and half out of my mind is more like it, but yeah, I am incredibly relieved.” She takes a bite and watches me while she chews. “So how have you been?”
“I’ve been okay.” I could pretend the last two months haven’t been a time of complete self-examination, but I don’t want to. “Cameron’s leaving kind of forced me to deal with some deeper issues.” She continues to watch me, not in judgment but in genuine interest. “I’ve even been going to a small church near B&L Ranch.”
“I wondered when I saw you last night if something had changed,” she admitted. “Cameron told me . . .”
&nbs
p; “I figured.”
We’re silent for a while and I should let it continue. Unfortunately, self-control has never been my strength. “How is he?” I whisper, knowing I’m probably breaking every ex-girlfriend code by asking.
“Honestly?” She sets down her fork. “I don’t really know. I’ve been so focused on fundraising lately, we haven’t had a lot of time to talk.” She stares off toward the now-empty stage. I guess the song I’d witnessed had been their last one. “But considering the way you two broke up, and how testy he’s been since, I do think talking would be good . . . for both of you.”
While I’m surprised by her honesty, I’m not thrown by her admission. Everything Darcy has done since seeing me at the cross service has reeked of a setup, even down to how she only semi-invited Dillon.
“I’m not sure Cameron wants to talk to me.” After all, he’s been in town long enough to prepare and perform at two events and has yet to send me even a hello text.
“Well, I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?” She doesn’t even finish her sentence before the band walks up and Bryson slaps his hand on the table.
“Where’s this amazing food you promised? The term starving artist has never been so true.” The inflection in his voice makes it clear he’s joking, but I still jump. It’s enough to bring every pair of eyes my way, including ones that regard me with absolute surprise.
“Jan?”
Since awkward silences have never been my forte, I smile at the guy who helped me see the possibility of a functional relationship. “Hi, Cameron. You guys sounded incredible up there.” Lame, lame, lame. If a hole opened up in the middle of the floor, I’d gladly leap into it.
Darcy jumps from her chair and slides her arm around Bryson’s elbow. “Let’s go get you something to eat, okay?” She drags him and their two other bandmates away, leaving me and Cameron alone to stare at each other.
“Do you want to sit?” I offer.
He shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “Not really.”
“Okay.” My heart pounds, embarrassment moving up my neck and into my cheeks.
“We could take a walk, though, if you’re up for it.”
I blow out a breath and will my hands to stop shaking. “Yeah, that sounds good.” And thanks to Darcy I’m actually wearing shoes that won’t break my ankles on the uneven ground.
Cameron grabs my half-eaten plate of food and tosses it into the trash can on our way out of the barn. As he always did when we dated, he lets me go first, and that familiar warmth and appreciation returns stronger than I expect. No matter what has happened between us, or even how we leave here tonight, I will forever remember Cameron Lee with affection and respect. He’s the first man in my life to ever treat me like a lady.
“You grew out your hair,” I say once we’ve walked past the barn and into the field, where trees wrapped in tiny lights create a soft glow over us. “It looks nice.”
“Yeah?” He quickly runs his hand through it, his voice mildly insecure. “Bryson said it would be good if our band had a more cohesive look.”
I take in his dark jeans, black T-shirt, and boots. Yep. It certainly looks like Bryson’s handiwork. “Well, don’t change too much, okay? Some of us like the old you.” I don’t mean it to be an admonishment by any means, but Cameron must take it that way because he stares down at his feet, his shoulders sagging. “Cameron, I didn’t mean that in a bad—”
“I’m sorry,” he says over my backtracking.
“For what?”
His head rises, and there’s so much regret in his eyes that I feel my chest ache with the need to comfort him. “I shouldn’t have walked away from you so abruptly. I should have tried harder to talk to you about all I was feeling. That night I left, I knew I hurt you, but I was still so mad.”
Unable to resist any longer, I take his hand in mine and squeeze. “No. You did the absolute right thing. I was lost and you were confused, and trying to fix that together would have just made things bad between us.” My words get a small smile out of him. “You were the best boyfriend I’ve ever had, Cameron. You cared for me, treated me with respect, and I really believe I would not have found my way without our time together.” I feel tears sting my eyes and have to swallow them back. “I was wrong. About God, about everything. Last night, when I heard the ax hit the tree and saw the wood chips flying all over the stage, the Cross became very real, as did the recognition of all the ways I’ve messed up.” I swallow again, but a tear still escapes over my eyelash. “I should never have lied to you. Keeping that secret was so incredibly selfish, and I’m so sorry.”
He reaches for me then, cradles my head to his chest, and we stay there for several minutes, holding each other one last time.
I hear Bryson’s booming voice in the background giving the ten-minute countdown until they have to get back onstage, but Cameron doesn’t flinch. He simply keeps holding me as if he’s holding on to something far greater than our goodbye.
More time passes, and finally we pull away, slowly, as if neither of us is quite ready to let go.
“We could try again,” he says, his voice rough. “We never really got a fair shot before. You couldn’t understand my faith, and I was way too sheltered to understand your struggle. Both those things have changed.”
“Cameron . . .”
“Just think about it,” he says, his voice rising with optimism. “You could join us on tour, be part of the sound crew. We’d experience the whole thing together.”
“I have a job here.”
“I know, but it’s almost over, isn’t it? I heard the church is voting on the final candidate next week, so that will be it for you, right?”
I shrug, not wanting to admit it. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
He cups my face, his dimple showing for the first time all night. “Then come with me. It’s all still here between us, I can feel it.”
For the briefest second, I consider the offer. After all, he’s right, the attraction we’ve always had is still alive and well. And Cameron is a wonderful guy, one I’d be lucky to have. Plus my job is ending, so even that isn’t an obstacle. And yet I know without question that my answer is still no.
Carefully, I take his hands and lower them in front of us, squeezing both so he understands this decision doesn’t have anything to do with him.
“You’re saying no.”
I nod sadly. “I’m sorry. If I were to say yes, I would be going solely for you. Following you. Dependent on you. And I can’t do that again.” His eyebrows scrunch like he’s confused, and I guess he probably is because I never told him about how I got to Texas in the first place. I’ve never told him anything real about myself, which is how, in this moment, I know without question that I don’t love him. Not like I need to in order to take this kind of step. “It’s time for me to make some choices just for me. Can you understand that?”
“Of course I can. I’m living it.” A sad shadow crosses over his face. “I just hope it makes you happy.” Before I have time to respond to the faint underlying admission that he’s not, Cameron swings his arm around my shoulder. “Come on. If you’re going to break my heart, you need to at least watch me onstage one time.”
I know I’m not breaking his heart. The two of us were never meant to be forever—just stepping-stones on the journey to something more. Maybe it was part of that grand plan Doreen is always talking about, I don’t know. But either way, I’m grateful Cameron Lee was one of those stones.
forty
I feel emotionally drained when I pull in front of my cabin at B&L, even though the last hour was spent singing and dancing next to Darcy. But that is how goodbyes go. They force you on a cycle from fond remembrance to excited anticipation to terrorizing fear of the unknown. And it wasn’t just me. I watched as Darcy went through every emotion several times.
I trek toward my cabin, and maybe it’s the darkness outside or just that I’m lost in my own head, but I don’t notice the Kyle landscaping truck
until I nearly run into Dillon’s six-foot ladder by my front steps. I glance around the porch. There’s a button-up oxford shirt lying over the rail and a set of keys tossed on the small table between the rocking chairs. “Dillon?”
No answer. I do a quick check inside, but the lights are off. Weird.
“Dillon?” I call louder and take the steps back down.
“Around back.”
I follow the sound of his voice until I see him hunched over by the air conditioner, pulling grass out of the ground, the back of a flashlight in his mouth. It takes all my willpower not to laugh. “Um . . . what are you doing?”
He stands, takes the contraption out of his mouth, and brushes off his hands. The shadows from the sensor lights hanging off the roof create a halo around his skin and leave an opposing line of darkness and light across his torso. “The weeds were encroaching, which means you’ll get debris in your motor, which means I’ll be stuck out here fixing this thing in the scorching heat of summer.”
“So at nine o’clock on a Saturday night you suddenly felt the need to rush out here and inspect my air conditioner for debris that won’t even become an issue for another month?”
“Not exactly.” He pulls on the back of his neck. “I came to check on you because I thought you might be sad tonight. And then after waiting inside for thirty minutes, I got restless and waited outside for a while, but then I noticed the trim above your door was loose, so I fixed that. And then while I was up there, I saw that the molding around your window was chipping, so I went to get a piece so I could match the paint on Monday, and that’s when I saw the overgrown weeds around your air conditioner.” He shifts again, and the light consumes the darkness on his face. It brightens his cheeks, shows me his eyes. They’re hard and glittering, full of something I’ve seen a thousand times but never made sense of until tonight.
Love and a Little White Lie Page 26
