Hearts Key

by Marianne Evans

  Oh, Mark had been interested all right, just as Amy hoped. In fact, he had asked her to the homecoming dance less than a week after her return from Pennsylvania. For a time, Carlie and Tyler had ended up going together as well, once Tyler got the message loud and clear that Amy’s heart was held firmly by the school’s basketball team captain and most popular star. Their senior year went somewhat cold as a result, and as soon as graduation hit, their paths split into completely opposite directions.

  Almost immediately, Tyler left Michigan, opting to spread his wings and stay with his aunt and uncle in Nashville. Before departing, he told his friends—Amy just barely included—that he was on his way to Tennessee to make a mark in the only arena that mattered to him from a professional standpoint. Music.

  Amy had continued her heady, electric relationship with Mark. Passion in all its forms ruled her world, blinding her to the consequences of being reckless and emotionally intoxicated. They saw one another constantly, feeding off the irresistible pull of physical desire. Still, somehow, Amy had never believed an unplanned pregnancy would happen to her—the queen of the school—nor to Mark, its undisputed king. They made love, surrendering completely to the pull of their minds, and their bodies, repeatedly savoring every new connection they discovered.

  Until the moment Amy found out she was carrying his child.

  But even then, she clung to the absolute belief in happy endings. Certainly, theirs was a critical error in judgment. Yet by God’s grace alone, Amy held to Pyper’s conception and birth as her life’s greatest blessing.

  She knew once they married, they would be happy. As a couple, and a family, they would make a way together. But it hadn’t turned out that way. Amy’s chin quivered as she continued to page through the photo album. How could she have ever been so naïve?

  She flipped through a few more pages, and a wavering smile replaced tears as she studied a photograph of Kiara kneeling in the front yard of the home they had renovated, with two of its four occupants: twins Amber and Alyssa Kidwell.

  Amy’s gaze moved to the colorful beaded bracelet Kiara had on her wrist. Amber had made it for Kiara’s and Alyssa had created an identical bracelet for Amy—a thank you to two of the people who, by virtue of elbow grease and donated time, made their mother’s life a bit easier and more civilized. The two little girls had shown maturity far beyond their years when they recognized the change in their circumstances, and their mother’s outlook that had been brought about by the help of the Woodland team.

  Alyssa had lovingly placed the piece on Amy’s wrist and Amy had refused to remove it for long months afterward. When she did take it off, she had tucked it safely away, never wanting to forget the love behind its creation.

  Amy’s gaze strayed to her empty right wrist, and she got choked up all over again. The bracelet was gone, left behind in her desperate escape from abuses both physical and mental. Amy blew out a breath, wishing she could will the bracelet, and the innocence of that missionary period, back into existence.

  She sniffed back tears. This trip down memory lane was making her an emotional wreck, but what a sweet, loving memory the photo stirred, as well.

  Amy had been just as much an emotional wreck after Alyssa gave her the bracelet. The gesture was so selfless, so poignant. Amy had found it necessary to break away from the home rebuilding crew for a few minutes so she could regroup.

  She closed her eyes and tipped her head upward, remembering how perfect the cobalt sky had been on that day. Ever-moving tree branches towered high above. Studiously she kept her back to the house, not wanting anyone to see her tears, though she knew her shoulders trembled. From behind, the crackle and snap of dry groundcover signaled oncoming footsteps.

  “Hey, Amy. I wanted to check on you.”

  Something within her went soft and perfectly still when she realized it was Tyler. Rich and low, his voice possessed the power to caress her soul. She’d closed her eyes, letting herself privately savor his arrival, and his obvious, caring concern.

  “I can leave if you don’t want to be disturbed, which I’m pretty sure is the case. I wanted to make sure you were OK. If I’m bugging you or anything, I’ll go. Really, no harm, no foul.”

  He barely got the words out. In a blind move, unwilling and unable to consider anything else but the sanctuary he offered, Amy spun and tumbled into him. As though mysteriously prepared for just such a reaction, Tyler took her in smoothly and held on tight, rubbing her back as they swayed, and buried their faces against each other’s shoulders. Despite the morning’s work, he smelled of appealing, musky spice, and his warmth radiated through her, dispelling the chill of the battle she recognized two small girls had to face each day as impoverished children. The slow glide of his caress across her shoulders soothed Amy’s ache of sadness.

  So, she sank into the moment, and let it go on. She tucked into him in an alignment that felt a lot better than it ever should have.

  “Thank you,” she whispered at last. But she continued to rest against him, taking in his strength. “You know what, Tyler? You deserve…”

  Oh, Lord, she thought in a panic, where is this sentence coming from, and where will it lead us? Amy didn’t lift her head from its comfortable resting spot against Tyler’s shoulder, but her eyes popped open, and went wide.

  “Yeah?” He pulled back just far enough to study her face. He tracked his fingers through wisps of hair that had floated from her loose ponytail. He didn’t seek her eyes, or look at her with eager hope, or a giddy sense of expectation. Instead, he focused on the path of his hand, which moved now to her shoulder, and stayed in a gentle hold.

  “Oh, nothing.” She stammered the words, staring at him, stunned by this unexpected wash of longing.

  He looked down, obviously deflated by her response; but he didn’t make an issue of her stumble. He didn’t let any sense of awkwardness remain. Instead, he grinned. “I see. So, I deserve….nothing?”

  The tightness in Amy’s chest eased; tension and the fear of hurting someone so dear to her evaporated as Tyler delivered the tease and then looked her straight in the eyes. “You deserve a lot more than nothing,” she said. “C’mon. You know that. You deserve everything good. That’s what I was going to say.”

  They remained together, his arms snug around her waist, her hands resting on his shoulders. But briefly, Tyler’s gaze focused on the stand of trees around them, then the twigs and leaf clutter on the ground. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Try totally.” Even if she refused to become romantic about Tyler Brock, he was special, a treasured friend, and he needed to know that. “Besides, I found out something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Remember the game we played on the drive down here from Michigan? You had to compare me to a box of crayons, and you said I was colorful, like a rainbow. I had to compare you to a rubber band and I said you were musical, like a rubber band when you pull it tight and pluck it.”

  Tyler chuckled lightly, and she could have sworn he blushed a little bit, too. “Yeah, so?”

  Suddenly she was desperate; she needed to assure him of his place in her heart, even if it wasn’t the place he wanted most to occupy. She stroked her fingertips along his smooth jaw, and let herself bask in the open, honest beauty of his hazel eyes, if only for a moment.

  “So what I found out is this: you don’t need to be pulled tight in order to make music, Tyler. You do it naturally. Literally. You’re really just a great, great person. Thanks for always being there for me. I notice it, and it means a lot.”

  He watched her for a time. Then, Tyler inched closer—just a trace—almost as if he couldn’t help himself. Amy lost her breath, caught between the fear of what might come next and the wish and the hope that he’d close that brief space of air between them and take her on a long, free-fall of a dizzying kiss.

  Her lips went dry, but lax. Her entire body tingled. His head dipped just a bit lower, and Amy’s hold on his shoulders tightened in expectation. The tingle morphed in
to a deep-seated ache. His eyes focused on hers, intense, mature in feeling and awareness far beyond that of a seventeen-year-old.

  Tyler displayed such tenderness, and soul-deep emotion that she nearly stepped into the unfamiliar terrain of reevaluating and leaving behind everything her budding heart yearned for and wanted most to grasp.

  In this moment, she caught a promise of all she somehow knew, deep inside, Tyler Brock would one day become. It was a glimpse so powerful it tempted her heart into uncharted territory, because all the signs of a potent, ordained emotion were right there in front of her.

  She almost skimmed her hands upward against his neck, almost trailed her fingertips through the slightly dampened ends of his hair; she almost drew him down of her own accord. Somehow, she knew he’d taste wonderful. Somehow, she knew he would guard and treasure her heart.

  In the end, though, almost carried no weight and the moment passed.

  Following a lengthy silence, intensity diminished. Expelling a quiet sigh, Tyler froze. His tongue coursed his lips, which drew her fascination and focus. He continued to hold her, and they studied each other’s eyes. He remained comfortably in place, his arms still a welcome, promising circle against her waist. Amy flushed shyly, lowering her gaze, unprepared for this influx of heady, magnetic feeling toward Tyler Brock of all people.

  Like a fool, she had stepped back. Instead of casting aside her preconceived notions, she took possession of his hand in a casual, friendly manner, and they returned to the front yard of Casey Kidwell’s home to resume their assigned landscaping detail.

  Amy blinked hard, still able to recall the warm, somewhat work-roughened texture of his hand in hers. She re-found her focus, and the present moment, but not without the sharp ache of regret.

  “You opted for arrogant, troubled, and controlling instead of gracious, loving, and tender-spirited.” Her murmured chastisement cut the silence of the empty living room. In a resolute motion, she closed the album and set it aside. “Way to go, Maxwell.”

  Yep, this pretty much clinched it. There was no way she’d ever be able to sleep tonight.

  She straightened abruptly as it occurred to her she needed to take care of uploading the concert pictures. That would give her something productive to do. After all, first thing in the morning, members of the standing-room-only audience would be clamoring for the concert and meet-and-greet photos. She padded to the entryway of her apartment, where she had dumped her purse and equipment bags in deference to putting Pyper to bed. She pulled out the camera and went to her bedroom, where she sat down at a small desk, before a glowing computer monitor.

  She booted up, extracted a USB cord from the drawer and connected her camera to the terminal. During the next few hours, she downloaded and labeled photos, setting up a page at the Woodland Church website to commemorate Tyler’s concert.

  Joy welled up as she worked. Image after image clicked through her increasingly relaxed and sleepy mind, soaking into her thirst-driven heart with each moment she spent creating the concert page. She went a bit unsteady when one particularly striking photo filled her monitor. This one was a solo shot of Tyler, centered perfectly in the frame and backlit by multi-colored stage lights. Such a handsome man. The number of hits on the Woodland site was going to be astronomical tomorrow.

  Tomorrow. What should she do about tomorrow? Giving a moan, too tired to properly consider what to do about Ken and Tyler’s dinner invitation, Amy checked her email before shutting down her computer.

  Five unanswered e-mails from the top was a note from Pastor Ken’s address with a subject line that read: Life’s Too Short.

  Puzzled, Amy clicked it open.

  Hey, Amy –

  I think I can speak on behalf of everyone who attended Tyler’s concert, and the meet-and-greet, in saying thanks for all your hard work tonight. I can’t wait to see the pictures.

  As a reward for your efforts, but mostly because we enjoy you both so much, please bring Pyper and join Kiara and me, and the Brock family, for a day of boating and relaxation on Lake Saint Clair. You’ve really earned it, and since life is too short to waste a single day of beautiful, late-spring weather in Michigan, I hope you say yes. After all, this is the least we can do.

  Let me know as soon as you can. We’re trying to plan a lunch menu for the boat trip, and don’t forget about dinner afterwards. We’d meet up at our house at around 11 o’clock and take off from there.

  God bless, and thanks again, Amy. You’re a godsend ~

  Ken

  Amy stared at the missive; she clicked on the reply toggle because she knew she had to respond quickly. Then, she sat stymied, unable to construct anything. The Brock family. Tyler would be there. She wasn’t committing to just dinner with him, but an entire day of boating fun. More opportunities to…what? Reconnect? And what about his duet partner? Sure, when they’d spoken after the concert, Tyler had acted as though Amy was the only woman in the world. But what about Rebecca? Amy drummed restless fingertips against the keyboard, waiting for words to form. Naturally, the idea of spending a gorgeous Saturday boating along the pristine waters of Lake Saint Clair held tremendous appeal. Pyper, of course, would go nuts at the prospect of spending a day with Annie. She couldn’t say no, and frankly, she didn’t want to.

  But at the moment, her heart was a tangled mess.

  Not allowing herself a chance to second-guess, Amy typed out an acceptance, thanking Ken for thinking of her and Pyper. She clicked send. There was no future in this interlude with Tyler, of course, but she wanted to see him again, and spend the day with him. Owning up to that realization helped her understand how miserable she’d feel if she denied herself this last bit of time with him. For old time’s sake.

  She rubbed at her increasingly heavy, gritty eyes. It was almost three o’clock in the morning. “It’s already tomorrow,” she murmured, extinguishing her desk light and turning off her monitor. She climbed into bed shortly thereafter, equally divided between excitement and melancholy.

  The day ahead would have to fill her up for a long, lonely time to come.

  Hearts Key

  5

  Tyler rolled out of bed, thoroughly refreshed and energized. It felt so good to be home. Smells from the kitchen prompted a smile. Certain things were a weekend tradition, like the aroma of fresh brewed coffee, the added smell and sizzling sound of cooking bacon and sausage, dish clatter, and muffled conversations as his mom and dad prepared a batch of fluffy scrambled eggs. He closed his eyes and breathed it all in. Riding just beneath the surface of those scents was the subtle spice of onion and green pepper; there was probably cheese in the mix as well.

  “Mmm is it good to be home,” he murmured, pulling on a t-shirt and sweatpants so he could indulge in his morning necessity: a large, strong hit of coffee.

  Yawning, he left his bedroom behind, following the siren call of delicious food. He worked his fingers through the waves of his hair as he entered the kitchen. Staying in his old room, at his parent’s home in the Shores, filled him with déjà vu—but in the best sense of the word. He smiled at the vignette he came upon at the stove. Side by side, his mom and dad moved in synchronization, buttering toast, cooking eggs. His bare feet didn’t make a sound on the tile. He sneaked up behind his mom and gave her a playful poke. “Morning.”

  She jumped, letting out a yelp of shock. She whapped at his arm; his dad just laughed.

  Tyler, grabbed a bistro-size mug from the nearby dish cabinet and filled it. He tipped his head back to check the digital clock on the stove. Nine o’clock. A prickle of anticipation went live inside him. Two hours. Just two short hours and perhaps he’d be seeing Amy again…

  “We made bacon and sausage. They’re keeping warm in the oven.” His dad turned to offer a nod, and he arched a questioning brow, forcing Tyler away from his thoughts. Temporarily. “You in for a few of each?”

  “You bet.” He wondered if Amy had accepted the invitation Ken promised to send. Had she seen it yet? He looked at his mom, s
etting an arm around her shoulders for a second. It felt good to be back in the care of his folks for a couple of days. “Can I help you at all?”

  “Nope. We’re ready. Have a seat and we’ll eat.”

  He ignored her request to sit and instead fell into his old habit of grabbing a pot holder so he could help pull dishes out of the oven and carry them to the table. The gesture, he noticed, left his mom to smile nostalgically, her eyes to grow a bit glittery. He delivered the food, then pecked her cheek when he passed, returning to the kitchenette with his cup of coffee now in hand. “I sure have missed you guys.”

  “I know the feeling,” his mom said. “Now sit.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  The meal was a glimpse of heaven, his favorite, plus he hadn’t eaten in—Tyler tried to figure out the hours and failed. A long time, anyway. In ravenous quiet, he devoured breakfast, his energy and attention on the rise.

  “I noticed you touched base with Amy Maxwell last night.” His mom offered a plate of still-warm toast, and Tyler helped himself. Her comment caused his focus to zoom in and stay put. “I’m so glad she’s back at Woodland. She’s always been so sweet, and her daughter is such a cutie-pie. We see them at church all the time now, but she was gone for a while.”

  Parents as informants. Tyler nearly grinned, but stifled the reaction. Why hadn’t that thought occurred to him as an option to find out more about Amy?

  “Back at Woodland?” Tyler spread a napkin across his lap and leaned forward. “Did she leave town or something? Where’d she go?” Waiting, he chewed on some toast.

  His dad gave a light shrug. “Oh, she stayed local, but stopped coming to church after she got married. Kinda lost touch with the Woodland crew. Last thing I would have expected, since she was so active in the church and all.” Tyler swallowed some coffee, waiting to hear more, wondering if his folks realized he was now riveted. “Who was it she married?”