by Kellen Hertz
Logan crossed his arms warily, but his expression softened.
Settling my hands on my guitar, I began to play. My fingers danced over the strings as the gentle, silvery melody of my song rang out from my guitar. As I let myself get caught up in the music, any worries I had about whether the show would work out melted away. I was playing for Logan, for the end of our tour, for my hope that we would be home tomorrow.
I leaned into my microphone and started to sing.
It’s an icy, bitter night
On a long and lonely road
We’ve been driving now for hours
Maybe we’ll never get back home
My heart is frozen hard from sadness
You’re the flip side of good cheer
We’re many miles away from family
The season’s joys feel nowhere near.
I looked up from my guitar. Logan looked as if he was on the verge of tears as I jumped into the chorus.
When you hear this song,
I hope you think of me
When you sing this song
Let your heart fly free
May that be this season’s gift to you from me.
As the song continued, the diner patrons listened attentively, hanging on every word. Confident and relieved, I poured my heart into the bridge, strumming quietly at the beginning, getting louder with every word as I built up to the final verse.
All around us the storm is raging
But we can win the fight we’re facing
We’re tied together by a ribbon of hope
We can go on
If we stay strong.
’Cause when the skies finally clear
We’ll stop feeling so alone
All our dreams will reappear
And together we’ll find home.
Logan smiled at the last line. And at that moment, I knew that even though I couldn’t fix everything that had gone wrong, I had at least made his Christmas Eve a little brighter.
Wrapping up the final notes of the song, I finished with a flourish and everyone cheered.
“Thank you,” I said into the microphone, eyeing Logan nervously. I couldn’t be sure that he would join me onstage, but I had to try. “And now I’d like to invite up to the stage my very talented partner, Logan Everett.”
Logan’s mouth narrowed into a small, surprised O. He hesitated for a split second, but then approached the stage and grabbed his guitar as the audience applauded politely.
I leaned over to him. “You ready?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “Ready for what?”
“The last show of our tour?” I said. It came out like a question, but I gave him a confident smile.
Logan looked around at the diner patrons who were waiting patiently for our next song. For a moment, I was worried that he would bolt offstage. But then he cracked a grin, and I knew his answer was yes.
The next half hour was full of music—boppy and beautiful, simple and soulful. We sailed from a ballad to a Christmas carol, on to a hard-driving country-rock tune and then into a melancholy duet. After each song, the applause got louder.
As we neared the end of the set, we played Portia’s holiday tune, “Cold Creek Christmas.” So many voices joined us as we sang. I had no idea so many people knew that song.
“May your season sing with joy,” Logan and I sang in harmony. “May this music always stay with you.”
As our voices rang out, I looked around the room, gazing at the circle of warm faces. Although I didn’t know anyone’s name, I felt as if we were surrounded by friends. Just over an hour ago I’d been in tears, desperately wishing I could go home. But in this moment, with music flowing through me, there was no place on earth I’d rather be.
The whole world was bright when I opened my eyes the next morning. I bounced out of bed and raced to the nearest window to look out. Thick snow blanketed the parking lot below, but the sky above it was a dazzling, clear blue. Seeing the view, I was filled with hope. The storm was over. Maybe we could get home today.
“Merry Christmas!” I said.
Dad grinned over his newspaper. “Look who’s finally out of hibernation!” he teased with a wink. “Although I guess you’re entitled to sleep in. You did play a pretty killer show.”
“I thought so!” I chirped, giving Dad a cheeky smile.
He laughed. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” Dad said. “You took a bad situation and turned it around. You and Logan really helped people find their holiday spirit, I could tell.”
“I actually think it helped Logan and me more than anybody,” I said thoughtfully.
“How’s that?” Dad asked.
I paused, sorting through my emotions and thoughts. “I feel like I spent so much time during our tour getting upset when things didn’t turn out how I expected,” I finally replied. “But looking back now, those challenges helped us, in a way. Like the storm. If it hadn’t happened, Logan might have—” I paused.
I suddenly realized that even though we played a great show last night, I still didn’t know how Logan was feeling about our tour—or about the future of our duo. Could this have been our last show?
“Logan might have what, sweetie?” Dad said, looking confused.
“Um, nothing,” I said quickly, not wanting to get into it. “My point is, everything that happened yesterday made me realize that I have so much to be grateful for.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Dad said.
“Me, too,” I said.
Dad looked out the window and sighed. “Now we just have to see if the roads are dug out and if the van’s ready.”
“Right,” I breathed, worry creeping up on me again. The mechanic had been swamped with cars yesterday. He might not have had a chance to fix our van yet, and if he hadn’t, well, we probably weren’t getting home for Christmas.
Dad’s phone buzzed with a text and he checked it.
“Zane wants us downstairs in a half hour so we can head over to the garage ASAP,” he said.
While I scrambled to get dressed, Dad threw everything into our suitcases. We hustled downstairs to the lobby, where Zane and Logan were waiting.
“Merry Christmas,” I said to them.
“Merry Christmas to you,” Zane replied, tipping forward his porkpie hat.
Just then, Diana the hotel manager popped her head into the lobby from the doorway leading to the diner.
“Great! Y’all haven’t left yet,” she said, speeding into the room. She carried a full tray of hot drink cups and a pillowy bakery bag.
“What’s all this?” Zane asked in surprise.
“Breakfast for the road,” Diana said, handing the drink tray to Zane and the bag to me. “We’ve got hot chocolates and coffees, and in the bag, there’s muffins and egg sandwiches.”
“Wow, thank you so much,” I said.
“No, thank you, all of you,” Diana replied. “People were so sad and stressed out last night, and you helped change that. Now, when they think about the Christmas Eve snowstorm, they’ll remember you and your music. I know that’s what I’ll remember.”
I hugged her and she squeezed me back.
“Y’all are really something special,” she said, looking at Logan and me. “I can’t wait to hear more of your music!”
I thanked her and looked tentatively at Logan. He nodded, but I couldn’t tell if he was trying to reassure me or if he was just being polite.
The hotel shuttle waited for us outside. The mechanic’s garage was just a few blocks away. Although the streets had been cleared, icy slushy piles of snow were still everywhere. We turned into the garage parking lot. A few people stood outside, their breath billowing in frozen clouds as they chatted in front of a red SUV with its hood up.
“Do you see the van?” I whispered. Logan shook his head, frowning.
Vernon stepped out from behind the SUV as we lugged our bags off the shuttle.
“Y’all are up early,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“
Well … it’s Christmas,” Dad pointed out a bit awkwardly.
“Oh, yeah,” Vernon deadpanned, wiping his hands on his jumpsuit. “I’ve been working so hard, I clean forgot.”
My heart sank. I bet he hasn’t even gotten to our van yet, I thought.
But then a tiny smile curled onto Vernon’s face. “Your present’s over there,” he said, gesturing across the lot. I looked over and spotted the van, shining in the sun.
“It’s fixed?!” I yelped.
“That’s right,” he smiled, looking from me to Logan. “A little birdie at the hotel let me know about the show y’all put on last night. It got me thinking that maybe I ought to do my own good deed for Christmas and get up extra early today.”
He turned to Zane and Dad, handing them the keys. “The new radiator’s all installed and she’s working well,” he said.
I squealed and Logan covered his ears.
Everyone laughed.
After Zane paid, he shook the mechanic’s hand. “Thank you, friend,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Vernon said. He nodded toward the highway. “I hear the roads are clear, so y’all should have a straight shot home. Safe travels and Merry Christmas.”
As we pulled out of the parking lot, I took a frothy sip of hot chocolate and felt myself relax. Outside, the blue sky rolled by above glistening snow-covered fields and wooden fences strung with red-ribbon garlands.
Zane peered at us in the rearview mirror. “I was very impressed with you two last night—and during the rest of this tour, as a matter of fact,” he said. “I know it wasn’t always easy, but y’all had some great performances.”
“Well, except for that one show where the audio stopped working,” I said.
“Or the one where we showed up to a room full of tiny choir singers!” Dad added lightly.
“Or the one that we didn’t get to play in Thompson’s Station!” Logan chimed in.
We all started laughing. It felt good to be able to look back on the tour’s less-than-perfect moments with a smile.
“You win some, you lose some,” Zane said amiably. “No matter what, this tour was an achievement you two should be proud of.”
I smiled, but couldn’t bear to look at Logan. Our show last night had been one of the best we’d ever played, but what if it wasn’t enough to convince him to keep Tenney & Logan going?
“So now I’d say it’s about time that we put together a real record,” Zane continued. “Whaddya think of that?”
“Yes!” I blurted, my heart fluttering. But then I dared a glance at Logan.
He stared out the window for a moment. “Actually …” he started. My heart dropped to my stomach.
Then Logan looked at me and smiled. “I think the first track we record should be Tenney’s new song,” he replied.
He put his fist out, and I gave it a bump, my heart soaring.
Zane turned a knob on the radio, and Belle Starr’s voice rang out from the van’s speakers.
You can be a star like me
Know who you are and you’ll be free
Be proud of yourself and love what you see
That’s when you’ll see who you can be!
I smiled, thinking of how far we had come since we opened for Belle just two months ago. Touring was definitely one of the toughest things I’d ever done, but I was so proud that we’d ended on a high note.
That’s when I realized that maybe Belle’s touring superstition made sense—after all, our first show in Franklin had set the tone for the rest of our disastrous tour. But last night’s show was the one I would hold in my heart forever.
It took us over three hours to get home because of traffic and wet roads, but somehow, I didn’t mind. Knowing that Logan would be reunited with his mom and Jude, and that Dad and I would get to see our family soon, kept me alive with anticipation. When the Nashville skyline finally emerged in the smoky distance, I couldn’t help grinning.
“Music City, USA!” Zane shouted. And as we drove past a WELCOME TO NASHVILLE! sign, we all cheered. It felt as if we’d been gone for months, rather than just a few days.
Our first stop was Logan’s house. When we rolled up to the white cottage, Zane and Dad got out to unload Logan’s drums and guitar. Logan gathered his coat and backpack and then paused.
“Now that the tour’s over, I guess we won’t be rehearsing together as often,” he said.
“I guess not,” I replied. A wave of sadness washed over me. The tour had been so tough, but now that it was over, part of me wished it wasn’t. “Maybe we should just get back on the road and start another tour?” I joked.
“No way,” he said, offering a crooked smile. “But maybe someday.”
My eyes lit up. “I’m really glad to hear you say that,” I told him.
Logan nodded and looked out the window at his house. “Touring was really hard,” he admitted, “but looking back, I can see that there were a lot of great moments that made it all worth it. And now that we’ve been through it, I think I understand my dad better—and maybe even feel a little closer to him.” He turned and looked me in the eye. “I’m not sure I would have realized that if it weren’t for you. So thank you, Tenney.”
He stuck out his hand for me to shake. I looked at him dubiously, and pulled him in for a hug. He let out a surprised “oof!” Then he hugged me back, just as hard.
Finally, he slid open the van door and hopped out.
As the van started pulling away, I watched Logan open the door and sweep up his little brother in a long-awaited embrace.
It took eight minutes to get from Logan’s house to mine, but every second felt like forever. The moment the van rolled to a stop, I threw open the door and raced up to our porch.
The front door opened before I even got up the steps. Mom and Aubrey stood there, with Mason behind them. Seeing me, Aubrey shrieked and started hopping up and down and suddenly I was in Mom’s arms, hugging her and trying not to cry, and Waylon was barking and jumping and licking the side of my face until I hugged him, too.
After spending a few minutes getting settled in, we gathered in the living room to open presents.
“My concertina!” Aubrey shrieked, tearing away the wrapping paper and holding the miniature accordion to her heart.
I smiled, flipping the pages of my brand-new songwriting journal.
“Maybe you can play it for your holiday jam duet with Mom,” I suggested as Aubrey fiddled with the concertina’s buttons.
“That’s a great idea,” Aubrey said. “Mom, can we play our song now?”
“I don’t see why not,” she said, reaching for her autoharp. “But Tenney, are you sure you’re up for the jam today? You’ve had quite the adventure the past few days.”
My fingers were callused and sore from playing my guitar every day, and I was more exhausted than I had ever been. But nothing could stop me from enjoying my favorite Christmas tradition with my family—not even a snowstorm.
“It wouldn’t be Christmas without a family jam,” I said. “Besides, I have a new song to play for all of you.”
“We can’t wait to hear it,” Mom said. “Ready, Aubrey?”
As I listened to Mom and Aubrey play their song, I thought I might burst with joy. I had never been so happy to be home.
As a young reader, Kellen Hertz loved L. Frank Baum’s Wizard of Oz series. But since the job of Princess of Oz was already taken, she decided to become an author. Alas, her unfinished first novel was lost in a sea of library books on the floor of her room, forcing her to seek other employment. Since then Kellen has worked as a screenwriter, television producer, bookseller, and congressional staffer. She made her triumphant return to novel writing when she coauthored Lea and Camila with Lisa Yee before diving into the Tenney series for American Girl. Kellen lives with her husband and their son in Los Angeles.
Three girls. Two families. One incredible friendship pact.
Keep reading for a preview of the first Like Sisters book!
Things
We Absolutely HAVE To Do:
1. Have a cookout
Well, that will be easy, Emma thought, wiggling her feet under the airline seat in front of her. By the time she and her parents finally got to Waverly, Uncle Luis would be flipping burgers on the grill while her mom’s twin sister, Aunt Alison, and all the cousins arranged salads and desserts on the big outdoor trestle table.
Last year, her family had gotten there the evening before the annual family barbecue, and Emma and her two favorite cousins, twins Natalia and Zoe, had made up their own brownie recipe. They mixed in not just walnuts and chocolate chips, but dried pineapple, coconut, raisins, peanuts, and marshmallows. It had been Natalia’s idea—Zoe had been skeptical, and Emma had thought maybe they should play it safe and follow the real recipe—but Natalia had insisted, and she’d been right. The brownies had been delicious. Emma’s mouth watered at the memory.
2. Swim
Back home in Seattle, the water was too cold to swim in the ocean. Emma swam in indoor swimming pools, competing in relays and races. It was fun, and she was good at it. She liked the smell of chlorine and the stretch of her muscles. Swimming in the warm, sun-splashed water of the Chesapeake Bay with Natalia and Zoe was even better, though.
3. Sparklers
At night after the barbecue, everyone—even the grown-ups—would light sparklers out in the front yard of Zoe and Natalia’s house, writing their names in light. It was tradition, and their family cared about tradition.
4. Bonfire on the beach
Some evening this week, when the weather was just right, they would build a fire of driftwood on the beach and toast marshmallows to make s’mores. Natalia liked hers so dark they were almost black, and Zoe preferred hers untoasted, but Emma would turn hers patiently until they were a perfect, even golden brown all the way around.
