by Kellen Hertz
“Sounds like the engine,” Dad said.
“I know,” Zane replied grimly.
Suddenly, the engine started making an awful grinding noise and the whole van began trembling.
“What’s happening?!” I said, fear sending my voice into a squeak.
“Pull over there,” Dad told Zane, gesturing to a shoulder just ahead. Zane drove us onto the shoulder and turned off the van. The grinding stopped and the lights turned off, leaving us in silent darkness.
“Do me a favor,” Zane said to Dad. “Check your GPS, see where we are.”
Dad clicked around on his phone and waited. “No service,” he said, shaking his head. They tried Zane’s phone, too, but it had the same problem.
After a second, Dad flipped on the interior light above us. He looked back at me and Logan, his forehead creased with worry.
“Tenney, is your phone working?” he asked.
I checked it. At the top of my home screen, above the photo of me and Waylon, there were no bars.
“I don’t think so,” I said, but I handed Dad my phone anyway.
“What about you, Logan?” Zane asked.
Logan shook his head.
I squinted out the window. Snow was coming down hard, and I couldn’t see much beyond dark trees and driving whiteness.
“So much for calling a tow truck,” Dad muttered. As a look passed between him and Zane, my stomach sank in dread.
We were stranded in a horrible snowstorm with no phone service. Were we going to end up trapped here overnight?
Inside the van, all was quiet except for the constant, shifting sweep of the snowy wind outside. Fresh snowflakes quickly covered the glass in a frosty layer, but I could still make out the narrow, wet country road outside. I couldn’t see any other cars. We were all alone.
“What do you want to do?” Zane asked Dad after they’d both spent a few minutes trying and failing to make phone calls.
Dad frowned at the falling snow outside. “There was a sign a few miles back for a service station and a hotel,” he observed. “We can’t be too far from it. So one of us stays here with Tenney and Logan, and the other starts walking till they can flag someone down.”
“I can go,” Zane offered, but Dad shook his head.
“I’ve got winter boots on. I’ll go,” he said.
Fear chilled me down to my toes. “Dad, the storm’s really bad,” I protested. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Sweetheart, we don’t have a choice,” Dad said quietly. “We need help.”
“I know,” I whispered, trying to ignore the tornado of worry whirling inside me.
“It’ll be fine, I promise,” Dad told me, squeezing my shoulder.
“There’s a flashlight and an emergency kit in the back,” Zane said. He turned to Logan and me. “You two hang tight. I’m going to stay outside to flag down any passing cars.”
Dad and Zane got out of the van, leaving Logan and me in the backseat. After a few moments, Dad reappeared, wearing a hooded reflective jacket over his winter coat and holding a big flashlight. He turned it on and waved it around, but with all the snow coming down, its light seemed pale and weak.
“Be back soon!” Dad shouted through the window.
I nodded, but as he disappeared out into the storm, my breath flooded out in a shudder, and I struggled not to burst into tears.
“He’ll be okay,” Logan said firmly, like it was the only thing in the world he knew for sure.
“You don’t know that,” I said.
We sat in silence, listening to the falling snow and ice tap against the sides of the van. I peered out the windshield. Zane stood in front of the van, watching for approaching cars as the headlights’ bright beams illuminated the snow swirling around him.
I shivered, closing my eyes. All I could think about was my dad trudging through freezing snow and darkness along the deserted country road, looking for someone to help us. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself.
Logan sniffled and I looked over. In the half-light, I could see wet streaks on Logan’s cheeks.
I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to say for a moment.
“Are you okay?” I said at last.
“Not really,” Logan said. He gave me a miserable look.
“My dad’s going to get help, and we’ll be back on the road in no time,” I tried to reassure him, even though I was scared, too. “And you heard Zane; we just played a great show and sold out all of our EPs. That means we can make our album and—”
“That’s not what’s bothering me, Tenney!” Logan blurted.
I drew back. “Then … what’s going on?”
“The last few days have just been really hard,” he confessed.
“I understand,” I said. “I’ve been super homesick, too.”
“But you don’t understand,” Logan said. “My little brother has been calling and texting me every day, asking when I’m coming home. I remember doing the same thing while my dad was on tour when I was Jude’s age. But my dad was gone so often that after a while, I figured that being on the road must be really cool.”
I nodded sympathetically, remembering how glamorous I had assumed life on tour would be.
“And so I thought that our tour was going to be this amazing experience,” Logan continued, looking out the window. “But when things began falling apart, starting with our first show, I realized that being on tour is really hard. It’s not the exciting life that I imagined my dad has been living all this time. He missed out on so many things that were important to me because he’s always on tour. So why would he choose this over being home with me and Jude?” Logan sniffled and wiped his face. “Did he just not want to be with us?”
My heart ached for Logan, but I didn’t know how to comfort him.
After a moment of silence, I finally asked, “Why didn’t you talk to me about this sooner?”
Logan looked a little embarrassed. “I tried to after the Franklin show,” he said. “I came by your hotel room to talk, but you were on the phone. Then when we were playing around in the lobby in Knoxville, I almost told you, but I didn’t think you would understand how I was feeling. You’ve been acting so upbeat all the time, doing everything you can to make the tour great.”
“I was just doing that so I wouldn’t think about what I was missing at home,” I admitted.
Logan nodded, understanding filling his eyes. “This whole time I’ve been thinking that our tour was falling apart because our shows had technical problems. But after we played that great show this afternoon, I realized that the only thing that was getting in the way of us having a great tour … was me.”
I shook my head, feeling my heart swell up with sympathy for Logan.
“Don’t say that,” I said. “This whole time, we’ve been sad about our families, and being away from home. We just reacted to it in different ways.”
He nodded, but I could tell that he didn’t feel any better.
“I wish we had talked to each other about how we were feeling,” I said.
“You mean before we got stuck in a snowstorm?” Logan asked with a bleak laugh.
We shared a sad smile, and I looked out the window. I couldn’t see anything beyond the snow anymore.
“Every tour is different,” I tried to reassure him. “I’m sure our next one will be way better.”
“Maybe,” he said. Then he paused, looking up at me. “But I’m not sure I want to find out.”
I drew in a breath. “What are you saying?” I asked him.
Logan opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly, we heard a loud HONNNNK!!
Bright lights swept over us, blinding me for a moment. When my eyes adjusted, I saw Zane waving his arms back and forth as a hulking tow truck with snow tires pulled in front of the van. After a moment, the truck’s passenger door opened and Dad hopped out.
“Dad!” I exclaimed.
The next few minutes were a blur of piling into the snow and staying out of the way as the ad
ults hitched the van to the tow truck. At one point, I glanced at Logan. He stood watching the van get hoisted onto the tow truck’s platform, but I could tell that he was still thinking about our conversation. I wanted to go talk to him, but not in front of Dad and Zane.
We crowded into the truck’s cab with the driver. As the powerful rumble of the engine started under us, I sat back under my dad’s arm, relieved to be safe.
“We’ll be back on the road in no time,” Dad said, squeezing me in. “We’ve got plenty of time to get you to your last show.”
I nodded and peered at Logan as he gazed out the window in silence. What did Logan mean when he said that he wasn’t sure he wanted to go on tour again? Was this the end of the road for us?
I have to make this final show count, I told myself. It’s my last opportunity to show Logan that this tour was worth it.
It took half an hour to drive through the storm to the nearest garage, but only five minutes for the mechanic to figure out what was wrong with the van.
“Your engine overheated,” he said to Zane, wiping the grease off his hands with a towel. I noticed that he wore a patch on his coveralls that read HELLO, MY NAME IS VERNON! “You need a new radiator.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Zane said. “How long will that take? We’ve got a show in Thompson’s Station at seven o’clock.”
“Seven o’clock tonight? In Thompson’s Station?” Vernon chuckled sadly, patting Zane on the shoulder as if he’d just said we needed to be in Hawaii in an hour. “Not gonna happen.”
“But it’s the last show of our tour,” I blurted.
“Sorry,” Vernon told me. “It’s almost four, and you’ve got two other cars ahead of you. Even if I could magically fix the radiator, there’s an accident ten miles up on I-40 so they just closed it indefinitely due to the storm. Hopefully, it’ll be open by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I echoed, my thoughts going into a tailspin. “But tomorrow’s Christmas. We’re supposed to be home tonight.”
Dad sighed. “It looks like that’s not going to happen, honey.”
“Yeah,” Zane said. “We’re going to have to cancel the Thompson’s Station show and find a motel.”
I leaned against a wall. I felt dizzy, like I’d just stepped off an amusement park ride. Everything that had given me hope for the end of our tour—playing one last great show and being home on Christmas Eve—had suddenly blown away like a snowflake in the cold winter air.
Vernon drove us to the nearest hotel off the interstate, a lean single-story building with green shutters and a red roof covered in snow. The parking lot was crowded with cars and a charter bus outside, and the lobby was crammed with travelers shaking snow off their hats and coats.
“We need two rooms for tonight,” Zane told the lady behind the reception desk after we’d made our way through the crowd.
“You’re in luck,” she replied. “You got my last two rooms.” She started talking about room rates with Zane and Dad.
“I need to call my mom,” Logan told me. He stepped away, pulling out his phone, and moved across the lobby.
I just stood there as travelers jostled by me, still hardly believing that this was happening.
“Honey, this might take a while, so why don’t you sit down?” Dad suggested. “I’ll come get you when we’re checked in.”
The only empty chair in the lobby was right by the entrance. I sat down, huddling into my coat. Every now and then the automatic door whooshed open and I’d get hit with a cold blast of wintry air, as if to remind me that this was real life.
The doors whooshed open again and an elderly couple walked in. “If the snow keeps up at this rate, we might be spending Christmas night here, too,” the woman said to her husband.
Before I could process that thought, my phone buzzed with a new text, and I pulled it out. When we were out in the storm, my phone hadn’t gotten any reception. Now that we were at the hotel, I was receiving the messages I’d been sent in the past few hours. They were all from Jaya.
3:14 p.m. Happy last day of your awesome tour!
3:16 p.m. It’s snowing like crazy here in Nashville!
3:17 p.m. I’m so excited to see you tomorrow at the holiday jam!!
3:21 p.m. Can’t wait to hear all the details about your adventure!
3:40 p.m. Everything okay?
Reading Jaya’s texts made my heart hurt. I texted back, telling Jaya all about getting stranded and rescued. It only took her a few seconds to reply.
That’s crazy! I’m so glad you are all right.
Just a moment later, she sent another text: Will you be home for Christmas?
Her question made a hard lump rise in my throat.
I don’t know, I wrote back. I hope so.
I looked at the sparse Christmas decorations scattered around the lobby. Across from me, the hotel diner bustled with stranded travelers, who squinted miserably out the windows at the snow. Far in the back, a lonely stool was perched on a sad, dusty corner stage with a sign that said MERRY CHRISTMAS!
My heart sank. I didn’t want to spend Christmas here. I wanted to be home with my family. I stared at my boots, tears welling in my eyes as the doors whooshed open and closed beside me. Suddenly, I couldn’t stand to be in the lobby a moment longer.
I slipped outside. Snow was coming down in sheets. I pulled my scarf up around my mouth and stepped forward, tilting my face to the dark sky. As the prickly chill of snowflakes hit my skin, I let myself cry at last. My tears mixed with falling snow, forming a melty slush on my cheeks. I gulped down a deep breath of chilly air. Its sharpness sliced through my lungs, but it made me feel better.
Just then, I spotted Logan through the door. His phone was pressed to his ear, and I could tell he was upset.
My heart panged—was he telling Jude that he wouldn’t be coming home tonight?
As I thought of all the things Logan had told me in the car, I suddenly realized how much harder this must be for him. Of course I was sad that I wouldn’t be home for Christmas Eve, but at least I had my dad here. Logan’s dad was an entire ocean away, and the rest of his family was all the way across Tennessee.
And even though I had missed out on a bunch of my favorite holiday traditions over the past few days, I never questioned whether our tour was worthwhile. But now Logan seemed to be questioning his entire musical future.
Logan hung up his phone and quickly wiped his eyes before joining Zane by the elevator. As Logan disappeared behind the elevator doors, I realized that I had to do something to help him.
But what could I do?
I had no control over the storm, or the snow, or the roads. There wasn’t anything I could do to make Logan feel better about his dad or to get us home tonight. And now that our last show had been canceled, I’d lost my chance to prove to Logan that our tour had been worthwhile—or had I?
Suddenly, I had an idea. I stepped back into the lobby and kicked the snow off my boots, my gaze drifting to the tiny stage at the back of the hotel restaurant. What if we had the last show of our tour right here in the hotel?
Dad ran over to me. “There you are, Tenney! You okay?” he asked, gently swiping a strand of hair out of my eyes.
“I’m okay,” I said. “But I need you to help me with something.”
I told Dad my idea. “We have the stage, the equipment, and the audience,” I said. “Now we just need a little holiday spirit.”
Dad seemed surprised that I wanted to do anything after our disastrous travel day, but he was supportive. “Good music might help take people’s minds off being stranded,” Dad mused. “Let me go see who I can find to talk to about this.”
He went up to the reception desk and brought over the hotel manager, a petite, businesslike woman named Diana. She loved my idea, and when she checked with the diner’s manager, he loved it, too.
Dad turned to me and grinned. “Looks like we’ve got a show to put on. Do you want to go get Logan and Zane?”
I shook my head with a wr
y smile. “Let’s make it a surprise.”
Dad raised his eyebrows. “Whatever you say,” he replied.
Dad and I swung into action. The stage in the diner was too small for Logan’s drum kit, so we brought out Logan’s guitar and set up a second stool for an acoustic show. Then we tuned the guitars, plugged them into our amplifiers, and tested the sound and the microphones.
“Shall I go get Logan and Zane?” Dad asked once we were done setting up.
I grinned and nodded.
I was excited to perform, but as I waited for Dad to come back, I realized how crowded and loud the space was. Two harried waitresses were running between tables, and the patrons seemed grumpy.
“Watch it!” hissed an older man as I swung my guitar around and nearly hit him.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
He scowled and sat down at a nearby booth in a huff, his back to me.
Maybe this was a bad idea, I thought as I sat down on the stool. If this show turned out to be a bust, Logan would never forgive me for ruining the end of our already disastrous tour.
At that moment, Logan and Zane appeared in the doorway. Our eyes locked.
“Tenney?” Logan said. “What are—”
“Excuse me, everyone,” I said into my microphone. “Happy holidays!”
The diner was a swarming sea of people eating, drinking, and talking over each other. Only a couple of people seemed to notice me. Logan looked around dubiously.
I swallowed hard, but pressed on. “I know that most of you are sad to be away from your families this Christmas Eve,” I started. A few more people looked up from their plates, so I continued. “But since we’re all stuck here, why not celebrate the spirit of the season together?”
By now, a lot more people were listening and a few diners even hushed the remaining talkers.
I took a deep breath and looked at Logan. “Christmas is a time to show people how much we care about them,” I said. “And so tonight, I want to play a new song for a friend as a reminder that he’s not alone.”
