“What are you saying, Tyler? Seriously? That you want to marry me?”
“It’s not an official proposal, no. Not yet. That moment will be much more precious, I promise you that. But ultimately, marriage is my intent, Amy. You wouldn’t be here otherwise, and I think there’s a big part of you that already knows that.” He paused, letting her ingest that fact. “Why else would I bring you into my home, let you into the deepest parts of my life? I’m not casual when it comes to my heart, and I’m not cavalier about how I treat people. You know that better than anybody.”
She shook her head slowly, meekly retreating from everything he offered. It was like a beautiful dream—therefore, it was also terrifying. “You can’t possibly be serious.” She swallowed, and her breathing went shallow. “Tyler, be rational. If you count Detroit, we’ve been together again for a week, and a handful of days.”
“Is that all, Amy? Really?” His voice was deliberately soft. “You know? You might be the one who needs to be a little more rational right now.”
“Don’t you understand that I’ve just now begun to find myself again? After five long, horrible years? I’m starting to make my way back to a place where I can rebuild my life, but I don’t know what can happen from here. Honestly. Look down the road and ask yourself if it’ll work. Ask yourself if what you and I have is real, or if you’re looking for nostalgia, and feelings, and a person you remember in far too idyllic a way, I’m not her anymore. And—”
He drew their steps to a close, capturing both her hands and holding her still. They stood in the middle of the Main Street sidewalk, in the rapidly darkening downtown. He cupped her face gently between his hands, brushing his thumbs against her cheeks. “Don’t be afraid. Please. For both our sakes.” His gaze traveled to Pyper, who bounded just ahead, this time captivated by another window display, this one full of sparkling crystal sculptures. “We’re going to discuss this—at length—before you leave. For now, I make only one request. It’s a plea from the depths of my heart.”
Amy felt choked up, overly emotional. She gazed at him, vulnerable and helpless to everything she felt.
“For all our sakes, stop being afraid.”
Let go. That was the underlying message, and she received it clearly, but not without a constricting dose of trepidation as well.
****
When honesty is missing from your world, keep shining the truth.
When compassion is missing from your world, keep reaching out.
When love is missing from your world, keep showering love.
That’s the only way to live true justice.
Because someone – somewhere – is:
Drowning in hate, drowning in fear, losing hope.
So never give up, and never give in –
Fight the fight you know you need to win.
Reflect what this world needs –
True justice.
Piano music flowed to a conclusion, fading into a silence that left the assemblage in the control booth awed. “Wow. Where did that come from?” Kellen Rossiter spoke for them all.
The ballad was a perfect blend of loving emotion laced by Christian value and dedication. Amy still tingled, awash in the moment. She wanted to answer the question by saying: from the depths of an open, giving heart. Kellen concluded the matter on his own. “The man has undeniable soul.”
“Yeah, he does.” Amy stood next to the powerhouse of an agent, who struck her as handsome, confident and smooth. “Know what I hope?”
Kellen waited on her.
“I hope and pray that nothing—and no one—ever tries to take it away from him.”
Kellen’s initial reaction was nothing more than a sidelong glance, accompanied by a quiet sigh. He absorbed her pointed look with grace, but not without a fight. A fire lit in his eyes. “Is it so hard to believe that I might have one, too?”
Amy shrugged, staring straight back. He didn’t intimidate her. Not in the least. What did she have to lose? Not nearly as much as Tyler, and she wanted some form of assurance that he would be all right facing the glories—and tribulations—of widespread fame.
Once she was gone.
Kellen shook his head, looking back at Tyler who remained seated at the piano, studying music sheets with Rebecca. “In my own way, I’m trying to help evangelize, Amy. Whether you see that fact, and accept it, isn’t up to me.” His gaze returned to her, hardened by traces of hurt. “Tax collectors were the parasites of Jesus’ day, so I can easily relate to Matthew’s gospel. By living in a world of sin, he brought those who most needed Christ to the hem of His robe.”
Startled, she folded her arms across her chest and watched the man. He looked back at Tyler, a smile just starting to reclaim his features. So, he was a Christian. Immersed in a world of glitz, materialism, fame, ambition and a never-ending quest for “more.” Yet at the same time, he pushed for Christian artists. Pushed hard, in fact, if his courting of Tyler was any indication.
“Then don’t hide a light as effective as yours under a bushel basket, Kellen. That’s the other lesson Matthew learned. Be forthright about your faith, and you’ll accomplish miracles. You’ll help feed hungry souls out there.”
He nodded toward Tyler, who stood from the piano and stretched, smiling and joking with his crew. Tyler seemed buoyed by the results of the session. “I like to think I already do.” Kellen stepped out of the booth and slipped in to the recording area. “Hey, Tyler. Question for you.”
“What’s that?”
“The song you just sang, True Justice. Did it feel at all like a compromise?”
Tyler shrugged. Amy watched through the glassed-in sound booth as he regarded Kellen in a puzzled way. “No.”
Kellen extended his hand. “Then welcome to preaching in the mainstream. It’s going to be a hit.”
Tyler accepted the gesture then listened intently when Kellen continued. “Depending on what you come up with next, I easily see that as single number one. Single number two? Let’s push a bit more into your Christian roots, something upbeat and unapologetic about bringing God—and God’s grace—into the texture the song. I know you can do it, and do it without the feel of preaching—kinda like Amazing Grace. A song like that would make a great second release, and maintain the message you’ve always presented.”
Slowly, very slowly, Tyler’s expectant smile bloomed. “I can get behind that scenario.”
Pyper sat next to the soundboard, twisting her chair back and forth. Holding her beloved fashion dolls on her lap, she bobbed her head and swayed the dolls in a dancing motion as she hummed the refrain of True Justice. Amy watched after her daughter who remained happily occupied. Pyper had been an angel during the session. As a treat, she had been given permission to record a CD of music with Tyler. A rousing rendition of Chopsticks and the ABC song were now preserved forever.
Amy’s throat went full and tight. Lord, please help me. How can I—how can we—leave this world behind tomorrow morning? I don’t want to, but I don’t see any other choice.
Tears pricked and stung at the corners of her eyes. Telltale moisture built against her lashes, so she ducked her head to flick the droplets away with a fingertip.
“Mama, why are you crying?”
Amy sniffed quietly, grateful to be ignored by the others for the time being. “It’s OK, Pyp. I’m just happy for Tyler is all. Very happy.”
Appeased, Pyper straightened and gave a nod. “Me, too.”
In a way, Amy wasn’t fibbing to her daughter. Tyler was going to have an amazing, fulfilled life. Why did that realization leave her with such a sharp stab of pain?
The only answer she could come up with was love. And its impending loss.
Hearts Key
17
Returning home from the studio, Tyler gave Amy some space. Now, however, it was time to confront the issues she had raised at dinner the other night about being uprooted, and finding a life in Tennessee. Without question, he needed to know where she stood before they parted in t
he morning.
After checking in with RuthAnne, Tyler walked into the kitchen while Pyper and Amy trotted upstairs. There, he assumed Amy would freshen up and Pyper would settle into her bedroom with its treasure trove of toys…and the freshly minted CD of her recording debut.
Tyler smiled at the memory of sitting next to Pyper on the piano bench in the studio and having more fun than he’d had in years doing what most people in his business might refer to as “goofing off.” The joy in Pyper’s eyes, the determination and enthusiasm she put into the music, told a completely different story than mere goofing off. This was life at its richest and most blessed.
Following a brief, closed-door meeting with Kellen Rossiter at the studio offices of Exclamation Point Records, Tyler let everything else drift away except Amy. They had spent the remainder of the day in Nashville, grabbing dinner at The Palm restaurant. Now, it was time to unearth the reasons for her recent preoccupation and establish a pathway for what would come next.
Lifting a glass pitcher from inside the refrigerator, Tyler poured two tall glasses of sweet tea. He walked out to the porch, already knowing Amy would gravitate there soon, to soak in the beauty of her final evening in Tennessee.
The unending cadence of cricket chirps and insect song placed him at rest. The air was stirred by soft, warm breezes; once again, the yard came alive with the sparkle of lightning bugs. He felt a wash of bittersweet pleasure when he considered the fact that, forevermore, lightning bugs would bring to mind the way Pyper had danced and twirled through his yard, and the way quiet southern nights had led to heart-to-heart conversations with the woman he loved—and always would.
He deposited Amy’s glass on the table to the right of the porch swing, his on the table to the left. He sank onto the thick cushions, and waited for her. Only a few minutes passed before the screen door came open with a squeak. He turned in time to see Amy register the beverage offering and give him an appreciative smile.
“Thanks.”
“Pleasure.”
She joined him, and took a sip.
“Pyper settled in?”
“Yes. All she keeps talking about is being in the recording studio. You just might have created a protégée.”
Tyler chuckled low in his throat. “Good. You see, it’s all a part of my great, grand plan.”
“Your great, grand plan?”
“Mm-hmm. My plan to keep you here.”
Her expression went uncertain. Tense. Tyler leaned forward on his knees and looked directly into her eyes. Amy’s lips quivered. She broke from their visual connection and leaned back. “I should have known…”
Tyler picked up on the subtle show of distance, and respected it, taking a drink of his tea. “Known what, honey?”
“I should have known how hard it would be to say goodbye.” Her voice shook against those whispered words. “This is putting me through a wringer. What I feel for you? It’s tearing me up inside. For my sake, and for Pyper’s as well, I really should have seen that coming.”
“Seems to me the answer is pretty simple.” He reached out and brushed his thumb against the back of her hand where it rested on the cushion between them. Amy glanced away. “Don’t leave. Not permanently, anyway.” Tyler wanted to see her eyes, but when she had dipped her head, the fall of her hair hid her face. Undeterred, he slid a fingertip against her cheek, then slowly tucked her hair over her shoulder.
She finally lifted her gaze. Turbulence rolled off her in waves. She straightened and gave him a tight, brave smile. “I leave on Sunday morning, and by Monday morning you’ll officially be represented by Kellen Rossiter. I still can’t get over it. Obviously your meeting today went well, huh?”
So, he thought, she wants to ignore a painful topic. In compromise, Tyler decided to sidestep. For now, anyway. He leaned on his knees again, and stared knowingly into her eyes, silently agreeing to her conversation shift. “Yeah, it’s official. His office is drafting an agreement. What do you think of him?”
Amy curled up her legs and turned toward him. “I think you’ll end up being good for each other. He seems to have a lot of substance—once you work past the flash and polish.”
The answer pleased him; it mirrored his own assumptions. Her answer validated the risk he knew he was taking. “Thanks.”
She looked puzzled. “For what?”
“For being my sounding board. For being someone I can open up to and trust. You know me; you know what I’m all about. That’s comforting in the face of uncertainty.”
Amy gave his arm a squeeze, and she smiled. “I understand where you’re coming from. Being at a crossroads is never easy.”
“True enough. This episode has taught me to stop fighting and start reaching out instead. Are you finding that to be true as well?”
She went stiff. The smile all but faded. “My. What a pointed question.”
In deliberate contradiction, Tyler leaned back and forced himself to relax. “Don’t expect me to avoid what God’s trying to show me. Especially when it comes to you.”
“OK then, you want the truth?”
“Always.”
Amy firmed her jaw. She pushed herself forward and looked at him intently. “Your pathway can’t include me, or Pyper. How could it? How could we uproot ourselves and blend into something new, someplace different?”
Tyler didn’t allow that verdict to fluster him. “Quite easily. In fact, we just discussed the recipe. Stop fighting and reach out. I’m not Mark, and I never will be.”
His conviction was authentic. Absolute.
Amy’s eyes flickered but her posture stayed tight. “I know that, Tyler, and that’s not even my point.” He opened his mouth to continue, but Amy sliced her hand through the air to stop him. “My point is this: Beyond the enormous life change that would happen logistically, there’s an emotional aspect to it as well. I can see the tabloid headlines right now”—She snorted. Then, in dramatic fashion, Amy put up air quotes and assumed an announcer’s voice—“Christian rock phenom, Tyler Brock enters into a romantic relationship with a divorced single mother who’s apparently on the mend and looking for love following the end of a marriage marred by alcohol abuse and domestic violence.” She sank back against the side of the porch swing. “Do you really think your fans, and the media members who cover you and help shape your career are going to let that one slip by? I don’t. How many of your fans are fundamentalist who frown on divorce? And what will happen when the find out my”—more air quotes—“‘spiral into an abusive marriage’ was caused by my philandering pre-marital sex?”
Tyler gasped. “Do you realize how badly that demeans what we feel for each other?”
“Tyler, it’s not meant to demean. It’s meant to be realistic! And then there’s Mark! What if he reemerges, and tries to pressure you, or me, about Pyper? What if he exploits you, and me, for money, or some other form of support, in exchange for keeping away from me, and Pyper? These are legitimate concerns, Tyler. These are things we need to consider.
“My life is in Michigan. My reality is in Michigan. It’s what I know. It’s what I’ve learned to handle, and it’s what kept me, and Pyper, alive during the past year. Meanwhile, your life is here. Your career is here, and it’s headed to wonderful places. Uprooting Pyper, uprooting myself, from everything that’s familiar all over again and placing ourselves smack-dab in the middle of a harsh spotlight isn’t a smart option right now—on a number of levels.”
The peace of the evening evaporated like the day’s humidity. Tyler stood abruptly from the swing. His steps turned into pacing. “Amy, do you think my life hasn’t featured upheaval, and change, and challenge?”
“Of course it has, but—”
“No buts.” His sharp interjection caused her to flinch, and Tyler winced. He hadn’t meant to scare her, but he needed to get out how he felt. The clock was ticking away the last moments of their week together, and nothing was as important right now as giving voice to his heart. “I came to Tennessee with nothing but fai
th, and a dream. I gambled on Opry Bound with nothing but the sure knowledge that God would be in control of whatever happens. Now I’m facing an even more daunting circumstance—the danger that accompanies mass exposure and everything that goes along with it.”
She blinked, folding her arms against her midsection. “Which is part of the point I’m trying to make. Don’t you see? I won’t be an asset to that part of your life. I’d do you more harm than good.”
“What?” Tyler spun on his heel and gaped at her. The exclamation hung in the air, tethered by strings of shock and disbelief. Across the space of the porch that now separated them a boiling edginess grew, but Tyler fought back anger as best he could. She didn’t need anger. She needed clarity and understanding—and so did he. “Where is all this coming from, Amy? And is this why you were so remote last night?”
She nodded. “Yes, it is. I have to admit, the media gave me a lot to think about when it comes to privacy, and when it comes to what would be best for me and Pyper, and for you, and your career.”
He could only stare at her, aghast. “You’re serious about this.”
“How could I not be?”
“Do you honestly expect me to validate that question with a response? Silence stretched, then transformed into palpable tension. “Yes, there are frustrations when I’m—” he shrugged, at a loss. But then, the words came, in a heartbroken torrent. “I know there are times when I’m on display. When I’m catalogued, and even handled to a degree. But never has it compromised my privacy. Nor would I allow it to compromise yours and Pyper’s. And as far as your ex-husband is concerned—” Tyler’s tone had turned fierce, his eyes went narrow and angry. “—just let him try to interfere with what you and I have together. Just let him try! Frankly, I’d love to take him on!”
“That’s not within your power to say, Tyler, especially once your fame increases. And you can’t stand there and tell me it wouldn’t matter!”
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