by Mary Manners
But then he’d somehow managed to turn that love song to a heartrending ballad. Brooke had challenged him with an ultimatum, and when he failed the test, she’d handed him back the ring and walked out of his life so fast it had made his head spin. The rejection still stung. But the passage of time, coupled with a healthy dose of reality and a dash of wisdom, had humbled him.
He could admit now that he’d needed the slice of humble pie. Not just a slice, but the entire pastry. The music had gone to his head. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten his roots. He’d finally had enough of the emptiness, and had tossed in the towel and headed home. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do. There was nothing left to prove.
Seeing Brooke again brought front-and-center how much he’d missed her. Her laughter, her touch…her everything.
Maybe there was still a chance for reconciliation. But she’d been through a heartbreak which he sensed had not fully healed.
And she had a son.
The music stuttered and stalled. Jayden had missed a cue. He huffed out a muttered growl and cut the music. The others followed suit.
Dead silence. The frustration was palatable.
Jayden grimaced as he gripped the neck of the guitar. “I just can’t get it.”
“It’s OK, Jay. Let’s run through it again.” Anna’s eyes flew wide as she lowered the microphone. Cade had pegged her as the group’s cheerleader—in his experience every decent band had one—and he could tell by the way she slanted an occasional sideways look that she had a sweet spot for Jayden.
Jayden hadn’t yet processed that particular memo. He scowled at her. “Maybe you all should just play the revival without me. I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“No!” This was said in unison by all four of his bandmates. “We need you. We can’t do it without you.”
No man left behind. This was a good thing, something a group either had or it didn’t. And this group had it in spades. The music could be taught to anyone willing to put in the effort. But having one another’s back at all times, not so much.
“I’ve got this.” Cade stepped into the center of the group. “Why don’t the rest of you take five and give Jayden and me a minute here.”
“Sure.” Anna set the microphone on its stand and motioned to the others. “Let’s go grab a soda.”
Regina fell into step bedside her while Paul and Conrad shuffled after. The group headed toward the side hallway and the kitchen area beyond.
At the doorway, Anna glanced back with an optimistic smile. “We’ll bring a drink for you when we return, Jay. Mountain Dew, right?”
“Whatever.” Unenthused, he flicked his fingers, dismissing her. “It doesn’t matter as long as it’s wet. And cold.”
“OK, then. Just give a shout when you’re ready for break to be over.” Anna disappeared around a corner and the others soon followed.
When the group was out of earshot, Jayden settled onto his stool with a look of utter defeat plastered across his lips. He sighed as if the world was ending. “I think my break should last forever. I stink at this.”
“No you don’t. You just need a little more practice.” Cade kept his voice light and matter-of-fact. “Mastering the guitar is all about muscle memory. You just have to train the connection between your brain and your fingers.”
“Easy for you to say. You can play anything. I’ve heard your music on the radio. You’re crazy good. Even Mom says so, and she doesn’t much like country music.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I’ve been at this for decades, with countless hours of practice. You’ve had what, a couple of years?”
“Six months.”
“Six?” Shock coursed through Cade, followed by a healthy respect. The kid had a gift for the strings. He just hadn’t figured it out yet. “That’s it?”
“Uh huh. Mom bought me a guitar for Christmas along with a dozen private lessons. Those ran out two months ago, so I’ve just been teaching myself since Mr. Caswell, the former music director, moved on to a new church. Until you showed up, that is.”
“In that case, you’re doing extra-fantastic.” This was only their second week together. And the first week, Cade had merely helped select music and then listened to a highly disorganized jam session that sounded like a bunch of alley cats in a fight. This week proved infinitely better. And since this whole idea of having the kids play at the revival was his best friend and now church pastor Josh’s idea, Cade planned to help them shine. He picked up his guitar and strummed the strings. The music soothed. He prayed it had the same effect on Jayden. “Let’s give it another go. Watch me.”
Cade ran through the tune with exaggerated slowness, carefully demonstrating each chord as Jayden looked on.
“That’s so good.” Jayden’s gaze remained acute as an eagle’s. He drank in every nuance of Cade’s actions. “I’ll never be able to do it like you.”
“You don’t have to do it like me. Actually, you shouldn’t do it like me. You have to find your own style, and that only develops with practice.” Cade nodded in affirmation. “Now, let’s give it a whirl together.”
“OK.”
It took two false starts and a mid-stanza stutter, but finally Jayden nailed it. Sort of. It showed progress, and progress was good.
“Awesome.” Cade clapped him on the back, followed by a hearty fist bump. “You’re getting it.”
“It was really better?” Jayden swept too-long hair from his eyes and glanced up. “Really, really?
“I shoot straight. That was loads better. Now, grab a solo. And let’s see what you’ve got.” Cade tapped out a beat with the toe of his shoe. “Four, three, two, go.”
Jayden took his cue and ran with it, flying through the song with nothing more than a minor hiccup.
“That was practically flawless. Good job. See, you can do it. Just don’t quit. Never give up and never let them see you sweat. Keep any minor glitches”—Cade lifted his ball cap and made an exaggerated motion of placing an object beneath it—“under your hat, and no one will be the wiser.”
“Is that how you managed to perform so well when you were touring the country? Didn’t it freak you out that so many people were watching you?”
“Yes and sometimes.”
“But did you ever make a really big mistake?”
“Sure I made mistakes. The only way to improve is to make mistakes and learn from them. It’s a rite of passage.” Cade leaned in conspiratorially to whisper. “Once, while I was performing before a sold out crowd in Toronto, I went completely blank and forgot the words to my biggest hit.”
“Oh, man.” Jayden gasped. “What did you do?”
“I turned the microphone toward the crowd. They took the cue and didn’t miss a beat. It ended up being one of the best concerts of my career. That’s the way it goes sometimes…beauty from tragedy. And it’s also one example of keeping mess-ups”—he lifted his hat again and patted the crown of his head—“right here.”
“Cool.” Jayden strummed the guitar strings. Confidence resonated. “I can do that.”
“Yes, you can.”
“I sure hope you’re planning to stay and help us out. I…like this. I don’t want you to leave Cedar Ridge. But maybe you’ll have to, if you decide to go on tour again.”
“That’s not in the plans.”
Jayden shrugged. “My mom says sometimes the things you least expect happen anyway. Like with my dad. He…died last year.”
“I’m sorry, Jay. That’s a tough one.”
“Yeah. I miss him. A lot.” Jayden fell silent for a moment. He cast a sidelong glance at Cade, his dark brown eyes riddled with curiosity. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure. Ask me anything you want.”
“What made you quit playing concerts and come to a place like this?” He fanned his arms to encompass the sanctuary. “Isn’t it sort of boring?”
“I grew up here.” Cade chose his words carefully. “And han
ging out here isn’t boring. Just...different than being on the road, different than touring. I like waking up in my own bed every morning, among familiar things.”
“I’ll say it’s different than touring. I bet you had all kinds of zany things going on. I’ve read about it in magazines, like how some bands demand a whole list of stuff supplied in their dressing rooms at every concert venue.” Jayden’s eyes lit up. “Hey, what did your band ask for?”
“We weren’t that high mainten—”
The staccato clack of heels over wood had both Jayden and Cade’s heads snapping up. Cade suddenly locked up like a piston lacking oil as Brooke strode down the aisle toward them.
“You’re early, Mom.” Jayden slid from his stool. “We still have practice. Cade was just helping me while the others went to grab a drink. I don’t want to leave yet, OK?”
“Of course that’s OK. I had to run by the office to get the craft supplies for next week, so I…” She paused as she noticed Cade standing there. Her eyes flashed and she jabbed a finger his direction. “What are you doing here?”
“I just told you. Wow, Mom, are you getting old timers? Cade’s giving me and the guys guitar lessons. I told you about him last week, remember?”
“No. I…um…” Brooke stumbled over the words. She’d changed clothes since their run-in at the grocery store. The pencil skirt and navy pumps had been traded for a pair of faded jeans and a baby blue long-sleeved T-shirt that highlighted her caramel hair and the creamy brown of her eyes. Her feet were clad in sassy pink sneakers. “Well, this is awkward.”
“It doesn’t need to be.” Cade stood and set his guitar in its case. He slanted a look Jayden’s way, and then toward Brooke. “Jayden’s your son?”
“Yes.”
How had he missed the resemblance? Both boasted wide set hazelnut eyes and brown hair with a hint of caramel. Jayden was lean and stood nose-to-nose with Brooke. By next month—possibly even next week—he’d be the taller of the two.
“Well…” Cade scratched his head. “Since I’ll be helping Jay with his guitar music, I guess we’d better find a way to bury the hatchet.”
“Oh, I’d like to bury it…” Brooke’s lips flattened as her gaze narrowed. “Oh, boy would I.”
Cade grinned. “Mad looks good on you, sweetheart.”
“Don’t you sweetheart me. This isn’t one of your sappy, fictional country tunes. This is as real as it gets, so—”
“Wait.” Jayden stepped between them, gripping his guitar like a lifeline. “Why are you so mad, Mom?”
“I’m not mad.”
“Well you sure sound ticked off. Do you two know each other?”
“You could say that.” Brooke clutched an arm to her midsection and drew a deep breath. “We were friends in high school. And college.”
And more…so much more.
Cade voiced the thought. “We were more than friends, Brooke.” He grinned as the memories swam through his head. Warm memories, happy memories. Right up till the night all of that changed, and the bittersweet end when it imploded. “We were—”
“Never mind.” Brooke lifted a palm to stop him. “Were is the operative word. Past tense. Done. Over. Forever.”
The room fell oddly silent. Then Jayden said, “Cade’s been putting in a lot of time helping me and the others, Mom. He’s nice.”
“Well…I’m glad for that.”
Jayden turned to Cade. “So, are you going to come to the revival next week and hang with us?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“No!” Brooke crossed her arms. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not, Mom?”
“It just…isn’t.” She paled visibly.
“You can’t tell Cade no. This is his church, too.”
“It is? Because the Cade I remember refused to attend church.”
“New and improved.” Cade tapped his chest. “That’s me.”
“A snake sheds its skin, but it’s still a snake.” Brooke lifted her gaze to spear him. “But if you want to help me with the kids’ craft class, it might go a long way toward me believing the whole new and improved philosophy of yours.”
“Sure, I’ll help you teach. What age?”
“Kindergarten.”
“Scratch that.”
“Too late. You already said yes.” Brooke smirked. “Unless you’re planning to go back on your word. And that wouldn’t surprise me.”
“I’m not the only one who went back on his word. There’s enough blame to go around. But I’m in with helping you. One hundred percent.”
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.”
“Make that two of us.”
“Mom…” Jayden waved a hand at the air, as if that would put everything back on track. “Did you hear me play? Did you hear that last song?”
“Yes. I heard you play.” She tugged at the neck of her T-shirt with one hand while she fanned herself with the other. Cole had to agree—the room had warmed considerably. “And you sounded like a…” The last words faltered. “…rock star.”
3
Friday night Brooklyn pushed aside the pile of hodge-podge art supplies and made space on the kitchen table for sorting and bagging. The upcoming revival would last three nights, and she had planned plenty of projects to keep the kiddos busy. She’d published a list of needed items in the past few months’ bulletins, and her church family had responded with enthusiasm. Thus the mountain of paper towel rolls, yarn, construction paper, glue sticks, and the like.
She’d learned from experience that staying busy was the key to calm. She understood firsthand since Cade had blown back into her life like an F-5 tornado. Just the thought of him turned her insides to a tossed salad. How was she going to manage actually seeing him, and interacting on a daily basis?
Why had she asked him to help with the crafts? Sheesh, she had a blabbermouth that had really spilled over this time. She leaned forward and gathered her hair, twisting it into a topknot. She fanned the nape of her neck where perspiration had begun to bead. She was in a mess of epic proportions.
It all circled back to Cade. He’d obviously spent considerable time with Jayden. How long would it take him to figure out her secret?
Brooklyn’s belly did a double-twist back handspring. She splayed a palm over her mid-section and sucked in a breath. She just. Might. Vomit.
“Are you OK, Mom?” Jayden strode into the room and hurried over to her. “You’re sort of greenish. Are you gonna be sick?”
Maybe. Sort of.
She dropped into a chair and shook her head slightly, though it took great effort. “Can I just have a glass of water?”
“Sure.” He crossed to the cabinet for a glass and quickly filled it from the fridge dispenser. “Here you go. Good and cold.”
He handed the glass to her and then stood there, looking worried. “Do you need some help?”
Boy, did she. But not the kind her son could provide. Only God could help her with this mess. And a mess it was. Her mess. And she’d have to own it, sooner or later.
Probably sooner, but later would be OK, too.
She drew a sip of water and found it hard to swallow. “I’m just…sorting the craft materials for next week.”
“OK. I’m planning to practice, but I’ll help until Cade gets here.”
“What?” She choked on the water, and it dribbled down her chin. “Did you say…Cade’s coming—to our house?”
“Yeah, Mom. Where else would he go?”
The moon would be good.
Jayden handed her a napkin, gaping as if she’d grown a second nose. “He’s going to jam with me.”
“Jam?” Wow, her son had already taken up the lingo. Perhaps giving him the guitar wasn’t such a good idea after all. But when she’d purchased it, Cade had been so far out of the picture that he wasn’t even a blip on the radar.
“Sure, Mom. Cade said I have a natural talent, and the more I practice, the better I’ll get. You�
�re always on me to practice, so I thought you’d be happy about this.”
“I’m…” She pressed a palm to her cheek. It was on fire. Her whole body was sweltering. She might self-combust. “Just surprised. You didn’t mention it.”
“Yes I did. Last night while we were watching the movie.” He snatched a chocolate chip cookie from the platter she’d set out after dinner. “You said, ‘Uh huh, sounds good.’”
Exhausted from the long work day, she’d dozed off ten minutes into the film, and must have responded in her sleep. Because she certainly would have put the kibosh on things if she’d been any shred of lucid. “I don’t remember.”
“Well, I do.” He bit into the cookie. “Loud and clear.”
“You could cancel.”
“Why would I want to do that? I get to play with Cade Lockridge. That’s killer. And he says I’m good. How cool is that, Mom?”
“It’s…uber cool.”
“I think so, too. I like him. He’s not stuck up like all the magazines say. They got it wrong, as far as I can tell.”
She had a not-so-kind retort for that, but Brooke bit her tongue.
“I can’t cancel, Mom, because he’ll be here any—”
The doorbell rang.
“Minute.” Jayden bolted from his seat and raced toward the door. “I’ve got it.”
Panic slashed through Brooke as she watched him go. His gait reminded her of someone.
Cade.
The resemblance was uncanny. They might not share the same coloring, but their mannerisms rang true-to-form. Brooke could no longer deny the truth that she’d buried in her heart of hearts for the better part of the past fourteen years.
Jayden was Cade’s son.
~*~
“Hey, Brooke. How’s it—” Cade did a double-take as he strode into the kitchen. “Wow, did something in here explode?”
The small dinner table was buried in a mountain of trash. Some had spilled onto the floor. Brooke sat among it, looking as if she’d just run a marathon. Locks of hair tumbled from a messy knot twisted atop her head to frame flushed cheeks.
“I’m working on crafts for the revival.” She brushed the word away with a swipe of her hand. “And failing miserably. You…Jayden…your music…”
