Come Friday (Bishop Family Book 8)

by Brooke St. James

Wes had slowly moved in my direction. I had been watching him out of the corner of my eye. He stopped at the stove, saying something to his mom and tasting whatever she was cooking, but then he made his way over to me. I was comfortable around this family, but Wes brought me a sense of security that was undeniable. I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he was coming to stand next to me.

  And there he was. He put his arm protectively around my shoulders and smiled at his grandmother with his eyebrows raised like he was genuinely proud of me.

  "How did you know about the broken spoke?" she asked.

  "Wes played me the song and told me the story about how Mr. Bishop made you an impromptu engagement ring. I thought that was so sweet, so I had to draw it on his tag."

  "Well, he's not wearing this, we're not wearing these, you know. These are just too special to get stuck on a shirt." She paused and looked around the kitchen giving everyone a disapproving glare. "I can't believe y'all are sticking these on your shirts! Are all of yours this good? These need to be framed."

  I couldn't help but laugh at her enthusiasm.

  "Shug, she can draw you something on paper if you want to frame it," Wes said. "These are just nametags. She wanted y'all to wear them."

  Shug let out an uncertain sigh as she reluctantly peeled hers off and placed it carefully on her chest. "I guess I will," she said.

  Michael came to stand next to her just as she did that.

  "You won't believe what Jolene drew for us," she said, handing him his tag.

  "What is this?" he asked.

  "They're nametags, but they're special, Michael. She drew specific things about each of us. Thoughtful things. Check it out."

  Michael stared intently at it for a few seconds before looking at me. "How do know all this stuff?" he asked with a sweet smile.

  "Your grandson told me," I said.

  "Yeah, and I don't tell just anybody about y'all," Wes said.

  Michael glanced at Wes with a sincere, questioning expression as if wanting him to explain what that statement meant.

  "I really don't," Wes said with a shrug. "I don't let just anybody in. I let nobody in, basically. Until Jo. I didn't set out to be a private person, but it ended up that way. Nobody even really knows I'm a Bishop over there. I mean, they know my last name, but they don't know I'm tied to—they don't know anything about me or my roots, really. I don't know why, but I didn't really share that stuff with anyone."

  "I bet that felt good," Michael said. "Finally letting somebody in."

  "So good, Doozy. You have no idea. It's like I somehow settled into living someone else's life for the past seven years, and then one day I woke up and decided to be me again. I wanted Jo to know y'all—know where I came from. And then I realized how good it felt to just—tell somebody the truth. Be myself. It had been so long. This all happened back when she and I were friends. I didn't even realize, at first, that the fact that I was able to be myself around her might have something to do with loving her. It took me a while to put those two things together."

  I was stunned by Wes's heartfelt words. I wasn't even looking at him as he spoke. I couldn't, or else I would have cried. Shug was about to say something. I heard her open her mouth to respond to Wes, but just then, she was interrupted.

  "Look at this one for Aunt Betty," Ivy said, rushing up to us again and handing another tag to Shug. "Jo drew crochet stuff on hers. Isn't that sweet? It's got yarn and a little basket. Oh, my gosh, look how cute this is. And look at these." I watched as Ivy handed Shug Betty's tag and then Jacob and Alice's. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Ivy asked, looking suddenly regretful. "Are you crying, Shug?"

  Shug smiled as she dabbed the corner of her eye. "No. Your brother was just saying some really sweet things."

  "Aw, I’m sorry," Ivy said. "I didn't mean to interrupt y'all."

  "You're not," Doozy said. He wrapped his arm around his granddaughter just to reassure her.

  "What were you saying that was so sweet?" Ivy asked, looking straight at her brother. Wes's arm had been resting around me, but he used this opportunity to get into a new position. He pulled me in front of him so that my back was against his chest. His arms came around me. It was as if I had shrugged into the world's most comfortable blanket.

  "I don't remember," he said, talking to Ivy without looking at her. He remained focused on me, bending down to rub his cheek against mine. I stared at the floor, the cabinets, anywhere. I knew they were all watching us—watching him love on me. Wes did not care at all. He shamelessly gave me all his attention. He leaned in even closer, and the feeling of his face right next to my cheek and neck caused a wave of love and desire to wash over me. I got chills, and I tried my best not to shiver. I was almost certain everyone could tell that I was about to come undone right there in the kitchen.

  "Was I being sweet?" Wes asked me, pretending not to remember.

  I smiled, pulling back to glance at him for a second before looking at Ivy.

  "He was being really sweet," I said.

  Chapter 19

  By the time it was all said and done, there were almost thirty of us at Wes's parents' house for dinner. One of Rose's brothers came, along with his wife and their boys. One of the boys was going into his senior year of high school, and the other would be a sophomore. Both of them were tall and played varsity basketball.

  The nametags I had made for everyone else were such a hit that I ended up making extras for their family. They arrived right before we ate, so I didn't have time to do it before hand, but afterward, I sat down with a pen and the blank nametags.

  I did a fast job of it, and they weren't nearly as detailed as the ones I had brought with me, but they were thankful and excited when I offered to do it. J.J. and Rhonda were the parents. I did theirs first, adding a little picture of a bank on J.J.'s since he was a banker and some flowers on Rhonda's since she told me she liked to garden.

  I was standing at the bar, talking to their oldest son, Noah, and working on his basketball themed one when Ivy came up next to us.

  "Why do you have a math problem on yours?" Noah asked.

  "Because I'm studying math, you big goofball," she said, poking at her cousin who was a good foot taller than her in spite of being younger.

  "I know, but I mean, we all picked stuff we liked for ours."

  She squinted at him. "Why do you think I'm studying math, Noah?"

  He shrugged. "Cause you have to?"

  She laughed. "No, I don't have to."

  "I thought you had to take math in college," he said. "My algebra teacher keeps telling me that to try to get me to study."

  "You do have to take some math," Ivy said. "But I'm majoring in it."

  "What's that mean? You're taking more of it then you have to?"

  She laughed again, and I couldn't help but smile as I listened to them.

  "I'm taking a ton of it," she said. "And, yes, it's by choice."

  "So, you like math," he said.

  "Yes."

  "You're so weird, Ivy."

  "Thank you." She said the words in an odd voice that made me smile again as I continued to work on Noah's nametag. Wes had been sitting in the living room, catching up with some of his family while I worked on J.J.'s family's tags, but he came over to see how I was doing.

  "She's just finishing up Noah's," Ivy said, seeing Wes come over.

  "Why did you put a guitar on yours?" Noah asked as Wes came to stand next to me. "Did you start playing or something."

  "Yes, I did," Wes said.

  "That's an understatement from what I hear," Ivy said. "In fact, that's what we should do right now since everybody's just sitting around being lazy."

  "What?" Wes asked.

  "Hear you sing," she said as if that was obvious.

  Just like that, Ivy went to work getting a guitar for Wes and finding a spot for him in the living room where everyone could gather around to hear him play.

  I felt nervous for him. He had played in front of large au
diences before, but this was different—these were people who knew him and loved him, and I knew he cared what they thought. Also, there were several extremely accomplished musicians in the room. Wes didn't seem intimidated, though. He just followed Ivy's lead, watching her with an amused grin as she went about the business of putting together an impromptu concert.

  I made another quick nametag for Noah's little brother, Ben, before going into the living room to join everyone else. By the time I got there, Wes was sitting on the stone hearth with an acoustic guitar on his knee. Everyone, and I mean literally everyone, including baby Kip, was gathered around the living room looking at Wes. They were sitting on couches, chairs, ottomans, and on the floor.

  I found a spot near his grandpa Jacob who was standing behind one of the couches. He smiled at me as I came to stand next to him, and I returned the smile before shifting my attention to Wes again.

  Wes gave me a mischievous grin—that sly handsome smile I had loved from the beginning and grew to love more and more. He somehow still gave the impression of danger and mystery to me even though I knew him and trusted him more than any other human I had ever met.

  I was marveling at this contradiction, so it took me a second to realize that he was gesturing for me to go over there. I placed my hand on my chest and widened my eyes as if to ask him if he was sure about what he was saying. He nodded and again and motioned for me to come to him. I was extremely nervous to walk over there in front of everyone, but there was no way I was going to deny him.

  "I want you to come sit by me," he said as I crossed the room. He patted the spot on his right. I did sit on his right, but instead of sitting on the hearth with him, I sat at his feet. I was more comfortable down there, and Wes didn't seem to mind since I was close enough to touch his leg. He had his shoes off, and he dug his toes under my bottom, wedging them between me and the rug and basically forcing me to sit on his foot. I glanced up at him for that, and he smiled at me before strumming the guitar.

  "So, I've written some songs, and I do some covers," Wes said, speaking loudly enough to address everyone in the room. "Shug, I do a few of yours, too. I'm just gonna do one for y'all, and since this was Ivy's idea, I'll make it one of her favorites. Y'all sing along if you want." I glanced at Ivy who was watching her brother with great curiosity. He strummed the guitar several times before opening his mouth to sing.

  Childhood living is easy to do,

  I knew the song from the very first line. I had listened to the Stone's acoustic version of it at least a hundred times. I had never heard Wes perform it, but it was a song I knew well. Wild Horses. Like Ivy, it was one of my favorites. I smiled inwardly the instant Wes sang the first line, thinking that Ivy and I were destined to be friends. I got chills as he continued.

  The things you wanted, I bought them for you.

  Oh, my goodness. How was it that Wes was this much better than the Rolling Stones? How was that even possible? His voice was deeper and had a soulful, raspy quality that made the song sound like magic.

  Graceless lady, you know who I am,

  You know I can't let you slide through my hands.

  I was already about to fall to pieces as a result of Wes's beautiful rendition of the song, but I couldn't handle what happened next. The chorus. I was astonished. I did not expect half the room to sing along to the chorus, but that was what happened, and the sudden joining of voices caused tears to spring to my eyes.

  Wild horses couldn't drag me away,

  Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away.

  I could hear the smile in Wes's voice as he sang with his family. They faded out for the second verse, letting him sing it by himself. He sang about sweeping exits and offstage lines before making his way back to the chorus again. Again, the family sang along—even more of them this time—some sang in unison and others in harmony. It was unbelievably beautiful—a sonic experience I will absolutely never forget. Then they stopped. We all listened quietly as Wes sang the last verse. He sang about having freedom but not having much time. And then wanting to do some living after we die. The family sang the chorus with him again. They sang it twice. I thought about joining in, but I chose to sit there and enjoy the moment.

  Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.

  Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them someday.

  I honestly wasn't sure about the meaning of the song—I had always just thought the tune of it was beautiful. That part about living after we die made me think about Heaven. I had heard one time that we would ride horses there. That was something I had never done, ridden a horse. I imagined myself riding a wild horse one day, and I smiled at the thought of it.

  Wes strummed the last chords on the guitar, and everyone clapped for him. A couple of the guys, including Jesse, whistled.

  "One more!" Ivy shouted, clapping.

  "One more!" Rose agreed.

  "Bravo, encore!" Shug yelled, clapping.

  Wes smiled humbly and shook his head a little. I stared up at him from my spot on the floor near his feet. I wondered what he would do. He started strumming a different tune. I could hear him working it out—finding the right notes and putting them together.

  "I'll do a piece of one, only because I love hearing y'all singing with me. Y'all are awesome. I know you all know this one, so we can sing it together. He stared at the guitar, continuing to strum and pluck the strings, creating a beautiful, slow melody.

  Through many dangers, toils and snares

  We have already come.

  He sang slowly and passionately, giving meaning and life to each word. It was Amazing Grace. He told me it was one of their family's favorites, so it wasn't that much of a surprise to hear him singing it.

  T'was grace that brought me safe thus far,

  And grace will lead me home,

  Nothing could really prepare me for hearing the Bishops sing that chorus together. It was unplanned and yet undeniably the most moving musical experience I ever had. I thought it was beautiful and moving to hear them sing Wild Horses, but that paled in comparison to hearing them join voices with supernatural intentions. They were singing to something higher than them, and it caused hot tears to freely roll down my cheeks. It was awe-inspiring. I buried my face in my hands and trembled as I listened to their unified voices.

  Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

  That saved a wretch like me.

  I once was lost, but now am found.

  Was blind, but now I see.

  Wes went straight into the last verse—the one about being there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun. This time, everyone sang the verse and the chorus before he ended the song.

  I don't know what I had expected when everyone sat around the living room to listen to Wes play, but it wasn't this. Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I thought he would play one of the songs he had written about me and his family would see how talented of a songwriter he was and how much he loved me. Maybe I thought he would have lots of stage presence and be a big rock star like he was when he performed in London. Wes didn't do either of the things I imagined he might do. What he did was better. He let his family in on his love for music and showed them his skills in the most humble, gracious way possible.

  Everyone clapped when the song was finished even though they had been a huge part of it. I wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand before joining in the applause. I smiled at everyone as I looked around the room, thinking how amazing it was that they had all been making such a beautiful noise. I thought all families should do this—just unabashedly sing a song together every once in a while.

  Wes took off the guitar and set it next to him.

  "I want to hear some of your songs sometime," Courtney said. She was sitting fairly close to us, and she leaned in and spoke to Wes with genuine sincerity. "Your mom told me you had quite a few originals."

  "I do," Wes said, nodding.

  "I want to hear them," she said.

  "I want to see you hit that target with a knife," Daniel said fro
m beside his wife.

  Courtney playfully rolled her eyes at her husband. "He's convinced it's impossible to make it stick into the wood without spinning it." She gestured with her finger in the air, making little circular movements to indicate the knife rolling over itself.

  Wes reached down. He tugged on my arm, urging me to come up and sit with him on the hearth. I stood up, and he pulled me onto his lap. "Didn't you watch Jolene's videos?" Wes asked Daniel. "She has like twenty videos showing no-spin techniques."

  "Yeah, but it's easier if you just wing it," Daniel said. He lifted his arm and made an overhand motion as if haphazardly throwing a knife.

  "Yeah, but where's the grace and finesse in that?" Wes asked.

  I had to smile.

  "At least I can make it's stick in the wood," Daniel said. "When I try that no-spin way, the knife doesn't even stick. It just clangs to the ground."

  "That's because you haven't practiced enough," Wes said.

  "I suppose you can do it," Daniel said.

  "You're right, I can," Wes said, giving his brother a good-natured hard time. He squeezed my waist. "I'm nowhere near as good as JoJo, but I can definitely make it stick."

  "What are y'all talking about?" Noah asked.

  I had noticed him standing there listening to us, but it took him a minute to work up the courage to ask.

  "Throwing knives," Wes said, looking at his cousin. "Dad built a target. It's in the backyard."

  "And you know how to do it?" Noah asked, looking directly at me.

  I glanced at Wes who gave his cousin a sardonic smile. "Come on," he said. "We're going outside."

  Chapter 20

  "Do it again!" Noah said. He was absolutely astonished and didn't try to hide it. "That was luck!"

  A big group of us, ten or fifteen people, had just gone outside to try out Jesse's target.

  Wes made a dismissive noise at his cousin's accusation about luck. "Luck nothin', chief. The girl's got skill. I told y'all that. She knows what she's doing."

  "I can't get it to stick from this far back," Jesse said, shaking his head at me. We were more than fifteen feet from the target. That's where I had thrown from the first time.