Come to Me Alive

by Leah Atwood

  Speak up, man. Don’t chicken out now. “Would it be totally weird to admit that Gracie and I have come to the park every afternoon hoping to see you again?”

  “You have?” She didn’t look at him like he was a creep. That was a good sign.

  Unrepentant, he nodded. “Sad, but true.”

  She blinked, breaking eye contact and then tucked her chin down, stuffing her hands in her pockets. “Then I should confess I have as well. Except, I’ve had to come an hour earlier the other days because of my schedule.”

  He cast her a wink, replying, “And here I was, thinking I was the crazy one.”

  “There’s a walking path over there.” She removed her hands from the pockets and jerked a thumb to a section of the park he’d yet to explore with Gracie. “Well, more like some pavement lined by trees. You can join me if you’d like.”

  “I’m game. There’s nowhere I have to be for a few hours.”

  “So I’m just a consolation prize?” she asked.

  “No, no. That’s not how I meant it,” he tried to backtrack.

  Her fingertips grazed his arm. “I was kidding. Really.”

  “Do you mind if I check my phone first? I’m sorry to be rude, but I want to make sure nothing’s happened to Gracie. She’s probably fine, but she hasn’t been away from me in weeks.”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s in my truck. Need a drink or anything?” he asked.

  “Got one.” She held up a bottle with a pink label that he was certain contained a fruity drink.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  As he jogged to the basketball court, he noticed more people arriving at the park, probably trying to beat the insufferable heat that would come in a few hours, making the hot morning feel like winter in comparison. He found his basketball, picked it up, and threw out the empty bottle. His crew cab truck was parked right behind the court. The sun’s glare on the black paint made it appear much more metallic than it actually was.

  He threw the basketball in the backseat and checked his phone. A missed call from Caroline and Jay, his drummer—calling them back could wait. He closed the door and didn’t bother locking it. No one ever locked doors in Oden Bridge.

  Sophie was waiting for him, right where she’d been standing previously. “Let’s go.”

  Side by side, they walked until they reached the beginning of the path. Aged magnolia trees with their glossy leaves and scattered white blooms stood tall and proud on either side of the asphalt. Their branches hung overhead, creating a canopy to block out the brunt of the heat.

  “Are you from here?” An overwhelming desire to learn everything about her took over.

  “No, I’m from outside Lafayette, but this is where I found a job. You?”

  “Gram and Gramps have lived here their entire lives. My dad moved north as soon as he hit eighteen and never turned back. I’ve spent most my life in the suburbs of Richmond.”

  “I thought I detected an accent, but I couldn’t place it. How’d you end up back in Oden Bridge?”

  He took a deep breath. This was one of those moments of truth— he could be honest or cover up past mistakes. Trusting that his instinct wasn’t playing games with him and there was something to explore with Sophie, he knew what he had to do. “Gracie lives with them.”

  Sophie paused her steps and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a long and complicated story.”

  “Oh.” The disappointment in her voice was palpable, but it encouraged him—it meant she was interested in knowing more.

  “I see a bench up there. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you.”

  The bench was a cement fixture with a plaque attached to the front in memory of a donator’s deceased family member. Once Sophie sat, he followed. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together. How did he verbalize the turmoil that summed his life this past year? What was he thinking opening up to a virtual stranger? By telling his story, he’d be placing an inexplicably high level of trust in her, yet it felt right. Finally, he sat up, making eye contact.

  “I wasn’t aware of Gracie’s existence until a year ago.”

  Sophie blinked at the revelation but remained silent.

  “Her mom was an old friend, best friend, someone I’d known my entire life. I was moving out of town and that night I had a going away party. There was alcohol flowing, and I had more than my share. Back in those days, I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.” He searched her eyes for any sign of disapproval but found none.

  “Most of us have memories of things we’d rather forget,” she told him in a soothing tone that made him believe she understood.

  “Shelly, that’s Gracie’s mom, and I, were best friends. The alcohol’s effects made us a little more reckless with our behavior.” He stopped talking, leaned against the back of the bench, and clasped his hands behind his head, bringing his elbows together. It took a few minutes to work up the guts to tell the remainder of the story. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this.”

  Sophie placed a soft hand on his forearm. “You don’t have to continue.”

  “No, I want to tell you the entire story. I can’t explain why, but I want you to know.” He continued on, all too conscious that her hand remained touching him. “Things with Shelly went too far, and she wound up pregnant. By the time she found out, I was long gone, and since no one knew what had happened between us, they never suspected me as the father.”

  “She never told you?” Wide eyes stared at him with incredulity.

  “No.” He shook his head side to side. “Four years of my daughter’s life torn from me. In all those years, we never spoke again. I tried calling her but eventually stopped because she’d never return the calls. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that single night of impaired judgment had ruined our friendship.”

  “Then how did you find out about Gracie?” Sophie sat up straight, listening to his every word with rapt attention.

  “In the spring of last year I received a phone call from Shelly begging me to come home immediately. She wouldn’t tell me anything over the phone, and I caught the next plane to see her.” All air left his lungs, the familiar pain returning. “She was dying. The best friend I’d ever had was dying of cancer and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

  A small gasp came from Sophie.

  He stood—grief thundered in his chest as it always did when he dwelled on it. “That’s when I found out about Gracie. She hid my daughter from me, and I couldn’t even be mad because she was dying and had only done what she thought was best.”

  “Why would hiding your daughter from you be best?” Sophie asked. Her expression held no judgment, only the will to comprehend something that was obviously unfathomable to her.

  After all these years, he still felt a loyalty to Shelly. “I don’t agree with what she did, but I understand why. I left to chase my dreams, and she thought telling me about Gracie would ruin those dreams.” He sat back down, burying his face in his hands. “Didn’t she know I’d have given it up in a heartbeat? Maybe I just like to think I would have, I don’t know, but I wish she’d given me a choice. Nevertheless, a week after I returned home, Shelly succumbed to cancer, and I was left with a daughter I’d known all of six days.”

  He looked up to see tears brimming in Sophie’s eyes, tears that silently said I’m sorry. A squirrel ran in front of them, passing from one tree to another. He took the distraction as an opportunity to regroup his thoughts.

  His fingers pressed into his neck, rubbing at the tension brought by the memories. “I was lost. I left town with Gracie before anyone could confirm I was the father. If anyone asked, the answer was Gracie would be living with her grandparents, letting people draw their own conclusions. Shelly’s dad is retired military and lives in Florida so it was plausible. And that’s the long story of why Gracie lives with my grandparents.”

  “Can I ask another question?”

  All or nothing, right? He raised a single shoulder in a m
ild shrug. “Yeah.”

  “Why the secrecy? Wouldn’t your friends back home be a support system?” She kicked at a small pebble, waiting for him to answer.

  Inhale. Exhale. He cracked his knuckles and took his time in answering. “I’ve told you my sad story, but yet, I haven’t told you my name.”

  “No, you haven’t. Please tell me you’re not an escaped convict on the lam. Are you?” Her small attempt at humor lightened the heaviness surrounding them.

  “Nah, nothing like that.” The frown he’d had while recounting his story turned to a half-smirk. “Hand me your phone.”

  She wrinkled her nose and looked at him skeptically but pulled it out and passed it to him.

  He stood and took a few steps to the right. Her phone was the same model as his, which made it easier to find the song for which he was looking. He slid the lock function and pressed a few keys. In seconds, Come to Me Alive was playing from her phone. In an impromptu serenade, he sang along, matching note for note.

  Come to me, come to me now

  Let me love you, bring you alive

  Yesterday’s Gone and Tomorrow’s not here

  Don’t just live, let me awaken your soul

  Ignite every ember, fan every flame

  Don’t settle for ash, when you can be the glow

  Come to me now, come to me alive

  Mouth gaping, she stared at him. The information sank in. She blinked several times and pointed a finger. “You’re… you’re…” She couldn’t get the words out.

  With his arm extended and hand poised for shaking, he officially introduced himself. “Nice to meet you Sophie Thatcher. I’m Bryce Landry.”

  The initial shock wore off and a slow, cautious smile spread across her face. At last, he could relieve the breath he’d been holding. She stood and grasped his hand “Nice to meet you, Bryce.”

  “I probably should have told you sooner.”

  “Doesn’t make a difference.” She rubbed her hands against her shorts. “Not really. I mean, it’s a little strange to me, but you’re still the same person as five minutes ago. I’m a little embarrassed you heard your song as my ringtone, but it’s not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of life.”

  Those were the words he needed to hear. Wasn’t that what he’d been searching for? Someone to look beyond the fame and dollar signs and see him for who he was when not on stage. Too many times he’d fallen for the act, only to discover he’d been wrong. Sophie, on the other hand, genuinely meant it. That he knew with absolute certainty.

  “Why Oden Bridge?” she asked, bringing them back to the original conversation, barely acknowledging that she’d just found out he was country music’s current most popular artist. “Why your grandparents and not your parents?”

  “Gram and Gramps were the only people I could confide in about Gracie and Shelly. My own parents are very detached. Both have prominent careers in law and find me to be an embarrassment.”

  “An embarrassment?”

  “They see no merit in my style of music, or me.”

  “That’s sad they can’t see your talent.”

  He shrugged again. “I’ve come to terms with their parenting style, or lack of one. They still don’t know about Gracie. I can hear their accusation and judgments and I won’t subject Gracie to their degradation.”

  “You mentioned your Christian birthday is coming up. What brought you to that decision?” She looked at him with such hope in her eyes

  The years, especially months, leading to that decision were ugly. His testimony was a true testament of God saving the worst sinner. “Let’s walk and I’ll tell you, if I haven’t scared you off yet.”

  “It takes a lot to scare me off.” Suddenly shy, she lowered her voice and looked further down the paved walkway. “Actually, that’s not true. I’m freaked out, but it has nothing to do with who you are or what you’ve done.”

  He understood. The power of the instantaneous bond between them scared him as well.

  The pavement came to an end, along with the shade of the trees. Dark clouds had overtaken the blue skies of just a short time earlier.

  “I think we’re in for some bad weather,” Sophie said, scanning the horizon. As if on cue, the skies opened, pouring out a deluge of rain. “Of course,” she muttered, then began to laugh, throwing her arms out to the falling streams. “I jinxed us.”

  “Come on.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her in the direction of the nearest pavilion. They ran fast but not enough to stay the least bit dry.

  Under the cover of the picnic shelter, Sophie used the back of her hand to wipe the drops of rain from her face. He performed a similar action. They looked at each before letting out unrestrained laughter.

  “You look like a drowned rat,” Sophie teased.

  He smirked. “And what do you think you look like?”

  “Probably a drenched circus clown.” She pulled at a strand of her hair, which had curled under the wetness, and gave a lamenting sigh.

  “A drenched circus clown could never look as beautiful as you.”

  She lowered her brows and crossed her arms, staring at him. “I bet you tell all the girls that.”

  “Only the ones crazy enough to compare themselves to a clown,” he shot back.

  “And you’re a smooth talker.”

  “For the record, I do think you have beautiful hair.” He waited, watching for how she’d respond, strangely pleased when she seemed at a loss for words. He took a seat at the picnic table, sitting on the top, with his feet on the bench. “Your turn. I’ve told you about me, now tell me what makes Sophie Thatcher, Sophie Thatcher.”

  Chapter 3

  Rivulets of rain ran off the metal roof, showing no signs of easing. Sophie leaned against a supporting post under the pavilion. Her arms rested casually at her side—a small red mark still on her hand from where she’d just pinched herself to see if she were dreaming.

  This was surreal, hanging out with Bryce Landry and wondering how she didn’t recognize him until he sang. Even though his music was new to her, his face was consistently plastered across newsstand tabloids and magazines. Something about him had looked familiar, but she’d brushed it off, assuming she’d passed him somewhere in town. Perhaps the thought had never crossed her mind because he’d been so approachable and unlike her perception of what a celebrity would be like.

  Either way, she was wading in dangerous territory. Not because he was famous with a reputation that would put Casanova to shame or because she was stuck outside during a storm, but because she was drawn to him like nothing she’d ever experienced. Even Ryan, whom she’d spent three years dating, never tugged on her heart like Bryce did. Barely a month after their breakup and after an hour talking to Bryce, Ryan was but a distant memory.

  Chemistry like this didn’t happen in real life, only in movies and the romance novels she loved to read. Her judgment, or lack of, was in serious question if she didn’t pull herself together.

  “Well, are you going to tell me?” Bryce prodded. White teeth gleamed through his grin.

  “There’s not much to tell. I’m pretty boring and non-noteworthy.”

  “I find that hard to believe. You said you were from Lafayette. Have you always lived in Louisiana?”

  “My entire life. I even went to UL Lafayette so I could live at home and save money. The little house I rent is the first house I’ve lived in away from home.” Even to her own ears she sounded terribly naïve and sheltered, especially compared to someone like Bryce Landry.

  “Strong family ties then, right?” His gaze penetrated her, not allowing her to evade his questioning.

  “Yes.”

  “Be proud of that, Sophie. Don’t discount it as boring. Any brothers or sisters?”

  She relaxed into the conversation and gave him an amused smile. “I have a younger sister who’d probably flip out if she knew I was talking to you. She’s sixteen and at the age where every celebrity is her dream man.”

  “Great.” He groaned
. “Is that what I can look forward to in ten years?”

  She laughed. “Most likely, unless Gracie is the odd child like me whose nose was too far buried in a book to notice boys.”

  “You can’t tell me you didn’t have boyfriends at that age,” he said. His eyes shifted in disbelief.

  “A few, if you can call them that. More like guys I’d hang out with occasionally. The most serious of which was the guy I went to prom with and dated for two months. It wasn’t until college that I finally decided to date more, but even then, I was a dedicated student and my love life took second place to my classes. Sometimes I still marvel that Ryan and I got together at all.”

  “Is Ryan the breakup dude you mentioned?”

  “That would be him. We dated for three years. I was expecting a proposal and got a pink slip instead.”

  “Ouch.” He leaned back, his palms flat against the table. “What happened?”

  To her surprise, no heartache came, and she didn’t mind sharing the story. “We’d been drifting along in our relationship, similar values, interests— that sort of thing. Our lives complimented each other’s and everyone thought we were the perfect couple. The only problem was, there was no spark there. We were two friends more than anything. I guess, deep down, I felt something wasn’t right, but didn’t want to upset the balance. Ryan, however, was braver than I. Last month he broke off our relationship.”

  “Good. You were selling yourself short,” he said with complete confidence.

  She scrunched her nose, thinking him rude for making such an assumption. “Ryan was a good man. You don’t even know him,” she bristled. Ryan and she hadn’t worked out as a couple, but once the initial shock of the breakup wore off, they’d become tentative friends again in the last few weeks.

  Her sharp retort didn’t faze Bryce. He put his hands up, calling a truce. “I didn’t mean any disrespect to Ryan at all. If you devoted three years of your life to him, I’m sure he has many admirable qualities. That being said, if there were no passion, no deep love, between the two of you, you’d be cheating yourself.”