Tyler slowed the car and pulled close to a set of wooden stairs that led to the front door. This was exactly the kind of place she had imagined for him. When he parked, Amy turned, and found him already watching her.
“Tyler, this is gorgeous.”
“I like it, too!” Pyper looked around eagerly, already itching to explore, Amy could tell.
They filed out of the car; as they unloaded the trunk, the front door came open and a tall, attractive woman of middle age stepped onto the porch, smiling a greeting.
“Hey, RuthAnne.” Tyler paused to give her a wave.
“There y’all are!” RuthAnne Newman was slim and lean, her gray hair fashioned into a loose bunch at the nape of her neck. “So, I finally get to meet Amy and Pyper! Come on in! Y’hungry?”
“I am!” Pyper drew up the straps of her backpack while Amy took custody of her tote and purse. Tyler claimed their luggage and carried it inside.
“Then let’s eat! How was your flight?”
There wasn’t a formal or stuffy vibration to be found here. Amy liked RuthAnne instantly, drawn by the older woman’s sweet graciousness. Simple jeans and a t-shirt added to RuthAnne’s aura of comfortable appeal. In the kitchen, serving platters filled with deli meats, cheeses, and bread, a platter of fruit and a bowl of chips, plates and utensils and a tall, crystal pitcher full of lemonade were laid out.
Amy’s mouth watered. Pyper looked at RuthAnne with the sweetest expression on her face. “Thank you for this.”
“Oh!” RuthAnne seemed genuinely touched. “Well you are a peach, aren’t ya?”
Pyper giggled. “No. I’m a sugar beet. That’s what Tyler says.”
No Mr. Tyler this time. Amy sent Tyler a knowing look, but kept quiet. Tyler, however, smiled widely. Another slow, sure, step forward as formalities vanished. But Pyper had yet to truly relax around him, and completely let down her guard.
Time, Amy thought to herself. Time and stabilizing influences will have to work out Pyper’s fears.
“The thanks go double for me, RuthAnne,” Amy said. “This looks wonderful.”
“I’m happy to do it. Tyler’s been awfully excited about you finally gettin’ here.”
Tyler cleared his throat and shuffled in a manner that touched Amy’s heart.
After lunch, Tyler took them on a tour of the house. A great room stretched across the bulk of the lower level. It was elegant—just leaning toward formal—but that formality was tempered nicely by country-style touches like a large wreath of dried wild flowers that decorated the space above the fireplace, brass lamps with simple white shades, braided area rugs, and an overstuffed sofa and loveseat. A nearby rocker, with a brimming brass magazine rack to its left, was comfortably padded and draped by a crocheted afghan.
Next came a large den/music room, where Amy spied his music awards, and a framed platinum record for his latest release. Pride and awe tickled her fingertips as she lightly stroked the surface. A grand piano and half dozen guitars were stationed throughout. A stack of blank sheet music rested atop the piano bench. On the instrument’s music stand were additional pages. These sheets featured filled in staves complete with hand-written notes, and what looked like lyrics in progress. An image of Tyler at work in this space came to life in Amy’s mind. What was he working on? What would come next? She longed to step up, and explore, but instead followed the lead of their host.
Upstairs, Tyler showed them to their rooms. At their first stop, he allowed Pyper to walk in first. “Pyper, you get your choice. Do you want to stay with your mama here in this room, or do you want to see the room I thought you might enjoy?”
She looked a bit doubtful. “Can I...like…sorta wait and see?”
“Sure you can,” Tyler assured.
Amy’s room featured a king-sized sleigh bed with a quilted down comforter of white that looked like a cloud. Sunshine yellow walls were sponge painted with dabs of blue, and crank-style windows were wide open to the gorgeous summer day.
Pyper’s room came next. It featured a four-poster bed with tied-back netting. A cherry wood desk filled space beneath the open window with curtains that rippled in a soft breeze. “This is so pretty!” Pyper walked in, and gasped.
“I hoped you’d like it. And even if you don’t sleep here, there’re some things I got for you to play with, and you’re free to hang out here any time.”
Pyper shuffled through the room, taking note of a fresh stack of coloring books, a supply of blank paper, and an open box of markers. Small puzzle boxes dotted the top of a long dresser and there was also a large plastic ball and a mesh bag that held a pail, a trowel, a spade and a pair of small, flowered gardening gloves.
“I always wanted to play with flowers.” Pyper lifted up the tools and looked them over.
“I sure could use your help with that.” Tyler stepped up and explored the gardening bag along with Pyper. “I’ve got yard work to do now that I’m all done with the tour.”
She turned to him. “Maybe…could I stay with my mommy tonight, and then see about being here after?”
“Sugar beet, you can do whatever you want.”
They finished settling in, and then Tyler took them for a walk. Amy discovered he owned quite a spread of land, bordered by white wooden rail fences. There was simply no way to stay closed up and tense in such a perfect setting, which, Amy imagined, was precisely why he purchased it.
That evening, Amy tucked in her exhausted daughter. Pyper had been existing on excess adrenaline for hours. After prayers, and a promise to join her shortly, Amy left the bedroom behind, but not before cracking open the door slightly so the room would be bathed in the pale illumination of the hall light.
She returned downstairs. In passing, she noted Tyler was on the telephone in the landing, and he gave her an apologetic look during a pause in the conversation. Amy just smiled at him and gave him a wink. In the living room, RuthAnne rocked peaceably, watching a game showon television as she cross-stitched.
The domesticity appealed to Amy, as did the quiet, homey comfort of being in Tyler’s home. Strolling toward the entryway, she pushed open the screen door and decided to enjoy the front porch.
A pair of cylindrical hanging lamps poured buttery, yellow light across comfortably worn floorboards. Amy sat on the thick padded cushions of a swing that was suspended from the porch ceiling by sturdy metal chains. Wicker chairs and tables were positioned close by, and hurricane lamps dotted the window ledges and tables. There was a box of matches within reach, so Amy lit them and settled back to enjoy the flickering glow.
After an early start this morning, and the stress of making sure everything was set for the trip, she felt a bit rumpled, but being with Tyler again reinvigorated her spirit. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. For a soothing length of time, she absorbed the scent of spring-kissed air, the caress of the soft, warm breeze that glossed her skin. Incrementally her body unwound and relaxed.
“Hey there.”
Amy turned, watching Tyler set a mug of tea on the wicker table next to her. “Hey there yourself.” She delivered a sheepish grin. “I think I’ve discovered my favorite part of your house. This is a wonderful spot. ”
“It’s my favorite, too.”
Tyler sat next to her, propping a booted foot against the edge of the large wicker table positioned before them. Pushing slightly, he set the swing into a slow, lulling motion. The black bowl of a sky was sprinkled with stars, lit by a half-moon. The only interruption in the view came from rolling mountain peaks, the valley lights curving upward against the ridge basin.
“Sorry about the call. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“Don’t even worry about it. Is everything all right?”
“Fine.” Something strange rode beneath the surface of that too-fast reply. “So is my sugar beet all tucked in?”
“She is. Happily exhausted, too. Just like me.”
“Good. On both counts.”
Amy kept quiet for a time, but remained watchful,
savoring the joyful nuance of being in this moment, with Tyler, on such a beautiful night. Since Tyler kept them in motion, she drew up her legs and wrapped her arms around them, tucking against the side of the swing so she faced him. “You’re a busy man. Even in the off-tour season. Was it an important call?”
He stretched his arm across the back of the swing and stroked her cheek with his knuckles, giving her a smile. “Amy, know what I love about this? It feels like only five minutes ago that I hugged you goodbye after the mission trip to Pennsylvania, or said goodbye to you a couple weeks ago in Detroit. It’s like we’re just now picking up the threads of a conversation that never ended. I wish you knew how much I love that aspect of our relationship.”
She went warm, and smiled at him brightly. “I know what you mean. Now answer the question.”
They swung, and Tyler paused a moment, seeming to take a few beats of time to form his words. Amy studied his profile.
“I’m planning to take y’all to Rutledge Falls and Fall Creek tomorrow, but I’ve got an eight o’clock meeting in town to contend with first. Our Tennessee tour will be my reward for enduring it.”
“Town meaning Nashville?”
“Kellen Rossiter. I was going to meet with him last week, but I ended up having to reschedule. That was him on the phone. He wants to meet for breakfast beforehand. Kind of an informal pre-meeting to make things a bit more personal and friendly.”
Tyler sighed heavily, and all at once, Amy came aware of the reasons behind his nervous, unsettled attitude. He was still worried about the potential for selling out. Crossing over mounted monumental pressures upon him.
“I swear. The most difficult thing to contend with is the whole atmosphere of the entertainment industry. I love making music. I love sharing God’s truth through the songs I sing. I truly do. Nothing else compares to it.”
“Because it’s your calling.” Giving a nod, she reached for her tea to take a sip. Mint flavor swirled, and burst on her tongue.
“True enough, but the people I see every day? They’re not my crowd. I hate that terrible sense of aggression and the self-centeredness of the entertainment industry. And, not to belabor the point, since we already hashed it out back in Detroit, but I just can’t get a bead on this guy. I admit that’s got me nervous. I can usually gauge people pretty well. Not this time. This time, I’m confused, and I’m still not sure where God means for me to go with the opportunities Kellen is presenting.”
“You never had an agent?” That surprised Amy. Somehow she assumed they would have beaten a pathway to Tyler’s doorway.
“I never needed one. When I won Opry Bound, I had plenty of offers, but I had a guaranteed contract with Exclamation Point Records. They took good care of me on album number one, and gave me lots of room to create on record number two, so I didn’t see a need. But, maybe now the time is right to sign on with some representation. Not out of greed, or a need for more, but to insure I’m making the most of the opportunities I’m being given.”
“Opportunities you’ve earned,” she amended tenderly. “And part of the purpose of performing, and sharing your gift is to gain exposure to more people. There’s no shame in that, Tyler.”
“No, there isn’t, on the surface, anyway. I do want to grow as an artist, and help more people discover the message in my music.” Tyler seemed to think about that for a moment.
“Pray.”
That single stronghold of a word drew his gaze to hers, but Amy could still see a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “I don’t mean for that to be a pat, simplistic answer to what you’re going through,” she said. “I believe it’s the only way you’ll find your way through, and keep on track with what God wants for you.”
“I agree. Completely. I have been praying. Trouble is, the confusion doesn’t go away. God knows, from the depths of my heart, I don’t want to mess this up, but I just can’t figure out what to do yet. I’m not feeling the answers yet. I’m not sure of God’s pathway right now.”
“Then you’re not supposed to. God knows what you’re up against. He’ll give you the discernment you need, the comfort you’re looking for, but for now he’s obviously telling you to rest in faith, and trust Him.”
“I know. I’m trying. But the world I’m pulling closer to? I’m not going to lie to you, Amy, it scares me.”
“And that’s understandable. Plus, Kellen Rossiter is so much a part of that whole scene you’re probably not sure of his motives, and if they’ll serve you well.”
“That sums it up.” They shared a smile, and Amy drank a bit more of her tea. She wrapped her fingers around the warm mug and savored the spicy aroma of the rising steam. “I don’t want to fall into a guitar-string style of faith and morality.”
Amy couldn’t help it. The analogy caused her to bubble up with laughter. “Excuse me? A guitar-string style morality?”
“Yeah. You know. Variable. Conforming to our needs instead of God’s plan.” He held up an imaginary air guitar, pretending to fiddle with it. “Oh, I like this a lot. I think I’ll tighten it up a little here. Hmm…don’t like that so much. It’s hard, and doesn’t feel so good. No problem. I’ll just loosen up that next string and make it all work.” Tyler shrugged, resuming their swinging motion by pushing gently against the table. “It’s all about making things what you want them to be, forcing them into place by stubborn will and pride instead of paying attention to God’s overall symphony. Know what I mean?”
Boy, did she. Amy nodded. “Leaning on our own understanding.”
“Exactly.” Tyler didn’t hide his unease at the idea. “Biggest pitfall there is, especially in the entertainment industry. People start reading, and believing, their own press releases, and start thinking they know better than God. Or, worse yet, think they’re on a par with God. It’s such an easy trap to fall into. I’m trying to avoid it, but—”
“But then along comes an amazing opportunity to minister in an even bigger way and move forward with what you love. Music.”
“Yeah.”
“Starting tomorrow.”
Tyler chuckled, but the sound lacked any degree of humor. “Starting tomorrow.”
On impulse, she reached out and gave his fingertips a tight, reassuring squeeze meant to convey her support and faith in his strength of spirit.
God, she prayed in silence, thank you. Thank you for this wonderful, Christ-centered man whose mission in life is to spread your love. Please. Please, dear Lord. Take care of him for me. With my past history, with the abuse and horrors I’ve endured, I still don’t see a future for us as a couple. I feel like I’d bring him down. I’d never survive the glare of a public spotlight, and either would Pyper. I can’t yank my daughter into a whole new life at this tender point in her development. But, all that aside, he’s precious. Guard him. Be with him tomorrow.
Hearts Key
11
At just after seven the next morning, Tyler left his home. Amy, Pyper and Aunt RuthAnne were sound asleep within. He, on the other hand, had barely closed his eyes all night. Tension slid through him. Nervous anxiety thumped at his spirit, giving him too much energy, too many things to think about.
Purposely early, he made his way into the heart of Nashville and parked on 5th Avenue, not far from their chosen restaurant: 417 Union. The block or two he needed to walk would do him good, and hopefully help him settle before the meeting. He was shown to a booth positioned toward the front of the restaurant. It was then that Tyler rested his fidgeting hands, closed his eyes, bowed his head, and repeatedly prayed a simple, three-word petition: Discernment, Lord. Please.
Tyler heard the door squeak open. Footsteps sounded. Reflex left him wanting to lift his head to see who entered the restaurant. He rebuked the reaction, but his prayers drifted to silence.
“Good morning, Mr. Rossiter. How are you?” When Tyler heard the greeting, he sucked in a deep, smooth breath, still diverting his eyes, forcing anxiety to take a back seat to God’s prompting and direction.
“I’m great, Janie, thank you.”
“Your party is here, and seated.”
“I see him. Thanks again.”
“My pleasure.”
The simple exchange of pleasantries finally roused Tyler. With a restored sense of calm, he greeted Kellen’s approach. “You’re a regular here.”
Kellen took the seat across from Tyler and gave a laugh. “Guilty. This place roped me in a couple years ago with their prime rib hash.”
Tyler winced. “Something about the word ‘hash’….”
Kellen laughed again. “Give their French toast platter a try. It runs a close second.”
They perused menus for a few moments while their waitress introduced herself and delivered iced water. Tyler desperately needed his morning coffee fix, so he ordered that promptly. Kellen went for a tall orange juice.
“I meant to ask you,” Kellen began, spreading a white linen napkin across his lap. “You going to the Exclamation Point party on Friday?”
Tyler nodded. He wondered if Amy would be interested in attending his record label’s annual publicity push. They could make a full, fun evening of it. Otherwise, he’d make an appearance, and return home as soon as possible. Nothing superseded Amy and Pyper’s visit. “Yeah. I plan to be there.”
“Good. Me, too.”
“You seem to be making more and more inroads with Christian artists.”
“Let’s just say I’m trying.” A pointed look was tempered by the curve of his lips.
Tyler shook his head, bemused. While they made small talk, and placed a food order, he studied the agent, still trying hard to figure him out.
As a person, Kellen presented an appealing package, Tyler had to give him that. Kellen was of average height and build—nothing too extraordinary there. He was handsome, but that wasn’t extraordinary either. What defined Kellen Rossiter was something intangible, and it radiated straight through his eyes, his carriage, and demeanor. In a word, that intangible quality had a name: magnetism.
Hearts Key Page 11
