“Got it,” Mia said.
“We promise,” Maddie said.
“Lulu?” Miss Julia gave Lulu a look that meant business.
“Cross my heart, promise,” she said.
“And I’ll be right here, girls,” Amanda said. “If you need anything at all.”
“Let’s go!” Mia jumped to her feet.
“To your right,” Amanda called after them, laughing.
Even though Mom, Dad, and Miss Julia were just a few rooms away, it seemed too good to be true to go through the stage doors, into the darkened theater wings, and past the curtains onto the stage all on their own.
“Whoa!” Lulu said.
“Whoa is right,” Mia said, eyes wide.
NINE
Beyond the stage, rows of seats seemed to go on and on and on. The guitars, drums, and keyboard had been set up, and the band members were gone. There it was—the Grand Ole Opry stage, completely empty, with a microphone waiting. It was too much for Lulu. She rushed over, reached up to tap the microphone—which thankfully wasn’t on, and was far above her head, anyway—and launched into song.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .” Lulu sang.
“Lulu!” Mia hurried over to her, stopping just short of the circle of worn wood under Lulu’s feet. “You’re standing in the circle.”
Lulu looked down and shrugged. “No one was using it.”
“Lulu, the Opry circle is special,” Mia said. “Do you know how many singers have stood there and performed?”
“Do you?” Lulu shot back. “I don’t know, probably lots.”
“They cut the wood out of the Ryman Auditorium floor and brought it here,” Mia said. “And just about every country singer you can think of has stood on this stage—either here at this auditorium or there at the Ryman.”
“I know,” Lulu said, even though Maddie was pretty sure she didn’t.
“So, shouldn’t you save standing on it for your real Opry debut?” Mia pressed.
“I’m sure we’ll stand here tons of times this week,” Lulu said. “Mom’s going to make us practice if we’re going to sing for real.”
Maddie looked out at the empty seats and the rows of lights shining along the underside of the balcony. Lulu’s words bounced around in Maddie’s head. If we’re going to sing for real. Would they? And if they did, how many people would be sitting up there, staring at them? If even half the seats were full, that would be far too many eyes staring at Maddie.
“How many people does the theater hold?” Mia asked, yet again seeming to read Maddie’s mind.
“No idea.” Maddie looked for a place to sit down, suddenly not feeling so well.
“Lots and lots!” Lulu said. “But it’s not as big as some concert halls.”
“It’s big enough,” Mia said. “Bigger than anywhere we’ve ever sung before. Plus, it’s the Opry—our very first concert at the Opry!”
Maddie finally decided to sit on a speaker. It was the only thing she could find, and her legs were so wobbly by then that if she didn’t sit, she might topple over.
“You okay?” Mia gave her a concerned glance. “You don’t look so great.”
“She’s scared about all those people,” Lulu said, and then started singing again. “You make me happy when skies are gray.”
“Lulu,” Mia said. “Come on, please get off the circle. Honestly, before we get in trouble.”
“We won’t get in trouble,” Lulu said. “No one is here. Come on, Mia. You know you want to sing too.”
Mia’s mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Actually, Lulu is right, Maddie. We can sing right now with no one to hear us. Come on, it will be fun.”
Maddie glanced over into the wings. Mia was right. With Miss Julia checking in with Mom, and everyone else busy with the auction items, the only person who might hear them was Amanda. And she was a few rooms away. If she truly was going to sing on Friday night—which she still couldn’t picture—she should try to warm herself up to the idea.
She stood, testing her watery legs. They weren’t much steadier than before. Mia didn’t wait for Maddie to change her mind. Instead, she grabbed her arm and yanked her over to the edge of the circle.
“Ready?” she asked.
Maddie nodded, because words wouldn’t come.
They stepped onto the circle to join Lulu. As soon as they did, Maddie felt a jolt. On the one hand, she knew this was just a piece of wood, like any other. But, if she closed her eyes, she could also feel the energy and rhythm of all the people who’d sang on this spot before. A burst of confidence surged through her. What was she afraid of? No one was watching, and she’d sung with her sisters hundreds of times before. Now, they would be singing to the rafters of the Opry. Why not?
“Let’s practice our song,” Mia said, and launched into their arrangement of “This Little Light of Mine.” It was harder to keep the rhythm and pace without the guitars and drums backing them up, but their harmonies sounded strong. As they got going, Maddie lost herself in the song. They sang and sang, all the way to the final notes, and then, breathless, took a bow.
From the wings, someone started clapping. Maddie whipped around and saw that it wasn’t just one someone. Mom, Dad, Miss Julia, Amanda, and even some of the band members were all beaming and applauding.
Lulu gave an elaborate curtsey. Mia reached out for Maddie’s hand so they could bow together too. Maddie had to admit, it felt good having everyone cheering them on. No one seemed a bit upset that they were standing on the circle, either. Even so, she carefully edged off the wooden planks, just in case.
“So, are the girls going to sing on Friday night?” Richie, the drummer, asked. “Sounds to me like they’re ready.”
“We’ll see.” Mom’s face glowed with happiness.
Maddie tried very hard not to look out at all those seats. Hopefully, if they did sing, the lights would be so bright that she could pretend Friday was just like tonight, with only this small circle of friends watching. Maybe she could pretend that anyway. Her heart thumped inside her chest, and she had to admit, it wasn’t just from fear. If she was being honest with herself, she really had enjoyed standing on the circle and singing with her sisters.
Mom scooped the girls into a giant hug. “And now it’s time to put my beautiful girls to bed. Ready to go home?”
“Ready,” they all agreed.
TEN
Let’s have a quick snuggle before lights out,” Mom said.
All three girls piled into Mia’s bed, making room for Mom. Maddie leaned her head against Mom’s shoulder, and Lulu curled up right next to Maddie. Mia sat on Mom’s other side. Mom wrapped her arms around all three girls and gave them a squeeze. “I was so proud of my beautiful girls tonight. Your singing was fantastic, but my favorite part was watching all three of you up there, having so much fun together.”
“So you’re going to let us sing on Friday?” Lulu grabbed Mom’s hand and pressed it against her own heart. “We’ll sing just as good, I promise!”
“Just as well,” Mom corrected, tucking a piece of hair behind Lulu’s ear. “It’s not that I don’t think you’ll do a great job, Lulu. The thing is, performing is all about the heart.”
“You mean singing with all our hearts?” Lulu said. “Because we are, we truly are.”
“I know you are, sweetheart. The thing is, performers need to love Jesus more than they love being on stage.”
“But we do love Jesus,” Mia said.
Mom untangled herself so she could sit facing the girls, and looked them each in the eyes. “You know that feeling of being swept up into the music? And how it felt tonight when everyone was clapping for you?”
“Because we were awesome!” Lulu swept her hand above her head like she was spelling their names out in lights. “Glimmer Girls take the stage!”
Mom nodded, and Maddie could see she was trying hard to put her concern into words.
“You mean we might get too excited about the applause and not remem
ber that we’re singing about Jesus?” Maddie wondered if this might happen to her. More likely, she’d be wondering what everyone was thinking of her. Still, those thoughts could definitely get in the way of thinking about the meaning of the song.
“Exactly,” Mom said. “And even when your song isn’t a praise song—even then—performing isn’t about being the center of attention. Whenever we use our gifts, we’re giving our best for God. It’s not about how much applause we might get.”
Mia frowned and pulled a pillow into her lap. Maddie could see she was thinking hard. “How do you know if you’re thinking in the right way? I mean, when I’m singing, I do think about the words, but I’m also thinking about the melody and the harmony and the beat. Is that wrong?”
“No, that’s not wrong,” Mom said. “Not at all.”
“So what are we doing wrong?” Lulu asked.
Mom reached out to squeeze each of their shoulders. “You’re not doing anything wrong. And I do think you girls should sing on Friday night. The reason Dad and I have talked about it for a while is because we love you and we want to help you. It’s not easy to make sure your heart is right when you’re onstage. In fact, it’s a constant struggle.”
“Even for you?” Maddie asked.
“Even for me,” Mom admitted. “We want people to applaud us and tell us we’re doing a great job. There’s a constant need to point back to the giver of the gift, not to the gift itself. Whatever skills we’re developing, we’re learning to use the gift God has given to us.”
“Wait a second.” Lulu grabbed both of Mom’s hands, her expression serious. “Did you just say you’re going to let us sing?”
Mom smiled a quiet smile. “I did say that.”
“Awwwesome!” Lulu whooped, jumping out of bed and bouncing around the room.
Mia sprang out of bed too, launching into a happy dance. “Yes, yes, yesssss!”
“And what about you, Maddie?” Mom laced her fingers through Maddie’s. “What do you think about singing on Friday?”
Maddie watched her sisters celebrating and shrieking, and wondered why it didn’t quite feel that way for her.
“What on earth is going on in here?” Dad asked, leaning on the doorframe.
“We’re going to sing, we’re going to sing, we’re going to sing!” Lulu chanted.
Maddie couldn’t help catching a little of their enthusiasm, especially when Mom looked her straight in the eyes and gave her a special smile all her own. “You’re going to be fantastic, Maddie.”
Nodding, Maddie felt her own smile growing. “We’re going to sing at the Opry!”
“At the Opry!” Mia echoed.
“And then, when we finish our song, someone will come out on stage and invite us all to be members. And we’ll be the youngest members of the Opry ever,” Lulu said.
Mom and Dad burst out laughing.
“I don’t know about that,” Mom said. “But seriously now, girls, come over here. We have something important to talk to you about.”
Mia and Lulu climbed back into the bed, and Dad joined them too.
Mom looked up at Dad, and he said, “When you take the stage, everyone’s going to clap and scream for you because you’re young and adorable.”
“You know we’re very proud of you,” Mom continued. “You see how I show you off on social media all the time. You’re smart, beautiful, and talented. But even when everyone is cheering for you after you’ve sung your hearts out, I want you to remember that whatever we do, we do it to reflect God’s presence in our lives.”
Dad nodded. “Especially in this benefit, we’re performing for an important reason—to raise money to help others who need warm food and safe homes.”
“I think I can do that,” Lulu said. “But I just love performing. Right before I go out on stage, I get really nervous. But then when people start to clap, it makes me so happy, I feel like my heart will explode.”
“That’s what we’re talking about,” Mom said. “It’s easy to get caught up in that feeling and forget who gave us our gifts in the first place.”
“But I think I can do it,” Lulu repeated. “I really, really think I can.”
“I think so too.” Mom pulled Lulu into her arms.
“Me too.” Mia leaned into the hug, wrapping her arms around Lulu and Mom.
“Me three,” Maddie said, joining them.
“All right, it’s settled,” Mom said. “We’ll rehearse your song tomorrow with the full band.”
“What’s that I hear?” Dad tilted his head as though he was straining to hear something far down the hall. “Hummm, hummm, hummm . . . I think the Daddy Monster is on his way!”
Dad tickled the girls while they shrieked and giggled. Mom smothered them with kisses until they were all laughing so hard they could hardly breathe.
“Okay, time for bed, sweet girls,” Mom said.
“Can we say our prayers all together?” Lulu asked.
“Sure,” Mom said. “Would you like to pray, Lulu?”
“Yep!” Lulu closed her eyes, and everyone else did too. “God, thank you, thank you, thank you that we get to sing on Friday night. And after we sing, when everyone claps and cheers, help us to remember what Mommy said about our hearts. And also, help all the people who don’t have houses or food. In Jesus’ name . . .”
“. . . Amen,” they all said.
Mom shooed Lulu and Maddie toward the door. “Now off to bed with you!”
Maddie crossed the hallway. She climbed into her bed and pulled her covers up around her ears.
“Good night,” she called so everyone could hear.
“Good night,” Mom called back.
“Sleep tight.” Dad switched off Maddie’s light. “And don’t let any bedbugs bite!”
Maddie closed her eyes, and the quiet settled around her. Whatever happened on Friday night would happen. They were singing for God, and to help others who needed help. If she thought about those things instead of thinking about everything that might go wrong, she’d be able to sing without her legs going all wobbly. The Opry. She and her sisters were going to sing at the Opry!
ELEVEN
And then, we stepped onto the circle, the real Grand Ole Opry circle!” Mia said to Annabeth and Emily out at recess the next day.
She demonstrated by stepping onto one of the thick, ropy roots of their oak tree. The girls’ hair whipped around their faces. The wind had kept up since yesterday, and Maddie was pretty sure it would rain any minute.
“So, you’re actually going to sing at the Opry on Friday?” Emily asked.
“I think so,” Maddie said, her throat tightening at the thought.
“You don’t have to look upset about it,” Annabeth said. “We know you’re excited—you don’t have to pretend you’re not.”
“I . . .” Maddie had no idea how to explain the way it felt looking out at all those seats and imagining all those eyes looking at her.
“Annabeth,” Mia said. “She’s nervous. Can’t you see that?”
“We’re supposed to feel bad for you because you get to sing at the Opry?” Annabeth asked. “Don’t you see how selfish that seems?”
“I didn’t say . . .” Maddie felt like she was two steps behind everyone else in this conversation.
“She’s not being selfish,” Mia insisted.
“No, they’re right.” Maddie reached out for her sister’s arm. “It’s special to sing at the Opry. I should be excited. I am excited.”
“It’s okay for you to feel nervous, though,” Mia said.
“Can we please talk about something other than the Opry?” Annabeth caught her hair and wrestled with the wind to get it under control.
“Like your dance?” Mia snapped.
And there it was, the dance again. Maddie cringed, knowing this wouldn’t be good.
“What’s your problem?” Annabeth asked. “All week, you’ve been picking a fight with us. Just because we made our own dance while you were away on tour. We’re not going
to sit around doing nothing while you’re off doing fun things.”
Mia bit her lip. Maddie could see she wished she hadn’t mentioned the dance just as much as Maddie did.
“I don’t think . . .” Emily said, causing everyone to stop talking. She hadn’t said anything for such a long time that no one wanted to miss whatever it was she had to say. “I don’t think we should be fighting like this. We’re friends, and we’re acting . . . well, not like friends. I don’t know. Maybe we all need a little space. Maybe next week, after the Opry and everything, we can start over.”
Maddie’s mouth went dry. Space? Things were that bad?
When no one said anything, Emily seemed to feel the need to explain. “I just don’t want to fight.”
“Me neither,” Maddie said.
“I think space is a good idea,” Annabeth said.
Mia didn’t say anything at all. Maddie could almost hear her sister’s mind racing back and forth, searching for a way to patch things up. None of them wanted to be in a fight, but every topic was a possible explosion. The gap between the girls and their friends grew wider all the time—exactly the way Maddie feared it would after coming home from tour.
“I don’t know what to say,” Mia said.
Maddie had to agree. What was there to say?
“Umm . . . So, maybe we should go work on our dance, then,” Emily said.
Annabeth took off for the other side of the playground, where they’d been practicing yesterday. Emily stood there for a moment, not saying anything. Maddie didn’t say anything either. The only word she could think of was space. Finally, Emily smiled a sad smile and turned to follow Annabeth. Maddie sat, her back pressed against the tree, exactly where she had been yesterday. Space. Her friends needed space? Space was the exact thing that Maddie didn’t want.
“I can’t believe they’re doing this,” Mia said, flopping down next to Maddie. “It’s totally unfair for them to be mad at us, just because we’re singing at the Opry. They’re the ones being selfish.”
Miracle in Music City Page 4
