Trey was kind of impressed at how quickly Ed turned that around. And if Ed had been a totally selfish, egotistical jerk, Trey would have fired him on the spot.
He wasn’t though. Trey knew he actually had a good heart and a keen head for business, but his lack of faith was showing now. “I’m helping my father twofold.”
Ed sighed on purpose.
“I’m offering him a part of me that he needs to survive, and I’m saving him from slipping back into the abyss of trying to buy his way out of everything. Money’s not the great equalizer you’re making it out to be, Ed.” Trey stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed back toward the inn. “It’s a great destroyer, making life too easy. We’re doing this my way, and I’ll make sure my father knows that. And I expect you to respect my decision.” He paused and looked Ed straight in the eyes. “No matter what my father says.”
Ed studied him for drawn-out seconds, and Trey knew when he’d won the battle because Ed rolled his eyes. “I tried.”
“You did, and it was a valiant, if misdirected, effort. When do you fly out of Yakima? Or did you come into Seattle?”
“Seattle, of course. I don’t do small airports or cheap wine. Tomorrow afternoon, four oh five.”
“The whole family’s going to church at ten right there.” Trey pointed to Our Lady Queen of Peace. “Father Murphy’s lent us their building until our church is finished.”
“I can’t believe your family is building the town a log cabin church,” Ed said. “I thought it would look ridiculous, but it doesn’t. It’s kind of awesome, actually.”
“Colt’s idea. He’s the smart one.”
Ed laughed. “Church, huh? Tomorrow morning?”
“You should join us,” Trey told him. “Meet us for services and then come up to the ranch for food. Meet folks. Then I’ll drive you back to Sea-Tac.”
“What time did you say for that?” He indicated the church across the green.
“Ten o’clock.”
“I’ll be there. Maybe I can pray some sense into you.” He said it fierce, but he didn’t mean it, and Trey laughed.
“I’ll do the same. And quit talking to my father, you hear?”
“I hear.”
“Good night.”
Ed waved. He paused on the upper steps, pulled out a cigar, and lit it. “I’m going to take advantage of this cool weather and enjoy a smoke. Nashville was close to one hundred and humid when I boarded the plane.” He took a deep breath of cool, clear Washington air and sighed. “This is real nice here.”
“It sure is. See you in the morning.”
Head down, Trey walked back to his car in the small municipal lot.
So his father was worried? Seeking alternative answers?
Trey was worried too, and if they could have just marched into that operating room that first day and been done with it, he’d have more peace of mind now.
But he wouldn’t have accomplished all the good things they’d gotten done at Lucy’s the last couple of weeks, and that meant something. He drove up to the cabin, let himself in, and prowled the small rooms, restless.
He tried to write.
Nothing came.
He tried to pick out notes on the guitar.
Same result. He put his head into his hands, thinking.
Was he truly a man of conscience, or was he simply seeking God’s favor? And if that was the case, did his sacrifice make him a lesser man?
He thought of the widow, with her meager coins. She gave what she could, and that’s the kind of faith he embraced. Give what you can, when you can.
An old image of Sam came back to him, driving a big red pickup truck, with a scared little boy tucked into a booster seat beside him.
Sam had pulled into a restaurant, taken Trey’s hand, and walked him inside. The place was full of people, truckers and travelers. It was big, loud, and teeming with action. He’d taken Trey to the men’s room, made sure he washed his hands, then ordered food.
But Trey couldn’t eat.
He’d been mesmerized by the lights and the people and the sounds, a kaleidoscope of color in a cacophony of sound.
He’d sat there, staring, surrounded by so much input that even though his belly had been empty for days, he couldn’t imagine biting into the pieces of sweet-smelling chicken or golden, hot fries.
Sam didn’t yell at him.
He didn’t scold. He looked down at him, scanned the crowd, and pressed his lips into a tight, grim look. “Can you box this up for us, please? And how about two of those frosted brownies too?”
“Sure enough!” The woman had put everything into neat little boxes, tucked them into a bag, and handed them over. Sam had paid the bill, retaken Trey’s hand, and led him out to the truck. He’d lifted him up and set him in the seat.
Trey’s stomach had gurgled. He remembered it so clearly, as if it was a new memory.
He’d looked over Sam’s head at the bright blinking sign, the smell of good food surrounding them. He’d spoiled it. Spoiled it all, and now Sam was taking him away from the food, from the place.
He’d blinked back tears, so tired and so hungry and so alone.
Sam had climbed into his side of the truck. He’d reached over and turned on the engine, then the radio. Soft music filled the cab. Then Sam turned on one small light, and he flipped down a ledge between their seats and smiled. “Who needs all that crazy noise in there when we’ve got a perfectly good dining room right here?”
Then he laid out the food in the quiet of the cab and didn’t scold when Trey ate so fast and so much he’d probably get sick.
He’d seen a little kid’s desperation and acted on it. He’d read Trey’s distress and fixed it. Despite all of Sam’s faults, when he saw something wrong, he fixed it, and that was what Trey meant to do. It wasn’t payback.
He could never give back enough for the life Sam had offered him.
But he could do this one thing out of respect for his father. And that’s how it had to be.
Lucy pulled into the church lot, late as usual, and when she spotted Trey waiting, relief washed over her. She parked and hit the button to open the side door.
“May I take a couple of kids off your hands, Ms. Lucy?”
Lucy could have kissed him on the spot, and while the idea was tempting, the actions would have sparked a lot of talk. “If you could separate the warring factions, I’d be much obliged.”
He grinned as he greeted Belle. “Lookin’ mighty sweet this morning, missy.”
He didn’t jump in and hurry her out of her seat. Lucy was grateful for that. Teaching independence took time and patience. Trey had both qualities.
“Cade and Ashley, I don’t want to hear another thing about the phone, got it?” Lucy leaned over the seat and scolded Cade while Cody followed Belle out the driver’s side door. “Cade, it’s not yours, don’t touch it. And Ashley, threatening his life will get you nothing but trouble, and you’re working at the Double S today, so cool it. If you want to have a job, act responsible enough to keep a job.” She turned as an older man approached them from the Center Street side of the parking lot. Trey waved him over.
“Ed, come here. I want you to meet our neighbors. Lucy, this is Ed Boddy, my agent.”
Lord, have mercy, how did she go from plain old Lucy Carlton, the somewhat impoverished woman next door, to standing side by side with a big-name Nashville agent? She decided not to overthink it, put out her hand, and smiled. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Same here.” As the older kids scrambled down from the car, his eyes widened. “All yours?”
She wasn’t sure if he was impressed or insulting. “We’re a family.”
Cody strode right up to him, the family ambassador. “Trey took us to the rodeo and to the carnival and to see the Indians and people dressed up like the old people that used to live here. It was really cool, but I mostly liked the big animals, just like Trey.” He stuck his hand into Trey’s and held tight, as if holding Trey’s hand was the new no
rmal. “It was the most fun ever.”
“Just like Trey, hmm?” The agent looked at Trey, then Lucy, then Trey again.
“Lucy, do you need to get inside?”
“I do.” She handed him Belle’s hand. “I’ll see you after service, and you’re sure you don’t mind riding herd on this bunch again?”
“Reinforcements have been sighted as we speak.” He directed his attention to the big Double S Jeep as Colt parked two rows back. “We’ve got them covered, and this is nothing Ashley and I can’t handle.”
Ashley’s expression softened when Trey included her. Lucy saw him notice that, and he looked satisfied.
Strong enough to be gentle.
That was Trey Stafford.
She hurried off, not as late as last week, but later than she should be. How many times had she pondered giving up her spot in the small choir until the kids were older?
So many…
But she’d resisted even though spare time was nonexistent. Getting to practices was hard, and half the time she had to bring the kids and hope they’d behave because hiring a sitter wasn’t a possibility.
She’d stayed with the group for her sanity. Singing God’s praise and leading worship music kept her focused on all that was good and holy in the world. Praise. Grace. Warmth. Worship.
She’d lost all that as a teenager. She’d taken the slippery slope into self-absorbed and self-destructive behaviors. She’d used bad choices of escapism purposely, and the musical crowd she’d embraced ran hard, fast, and heavy in all the wrong directions. Alcohol. Sex. Drugs.
She’d wised up finally, but not before she’d set a course of action that brought her to this point of life.
But now it was different.
Now the music healed.
Chains of notes provided prayer and solace, sweet and pure, a solid win for a frenzied single mother.
She ran through scales softly with the choir director, and when she launched into the soprano of John Rutter’s “For the Beauty of the Earth” as a prelude, her heart danced with the quick notes and praised with the long ones.
And just like before, Trey turned and smiled up at her, as if the music touched him. As if she touched him.
And then the agent turned.
He turned gradually, as if measuring what he heard. As if assessing. And then as if contemplating.
He looked up.
This big-time, well-heeled, famous-in-music-circles agent looked up at her.
And he nodded slowly, then with more definition.
She read his look. It was the look she’d hoped for as a younger woman, singing with Chase’s somewhat derelict band.
Approval. Promise. Hope. Action.
She read all of that in his gaze as he took in the choir, the loft, and her.
And when the service began, Trey’s smile shared an inclusive joy, an emotion she’d never truly known. And Ed’s expression indicated an interest she’d longed for years ago.
You’re letting your imagination run wild. Stop it.
She took the mental advice to heart. She was crazy to be standing in the quaint, old loft, imagining the Nashville agent’s interest.
Trey’s affection must have turned her head to delusions of grandeur, to “what-ifs” that hadn’t been and could never be. She scolded herself internally and focused on the reverend’s words of peace, hope, and love, three things that were finally coming to fruition in Gray’s Glen. She’d promised God that would be enough, and Lucy Carlton never went back on a promise.
—
“Brilliant.” Ed Boddy seized Lucy’s hand once the service concluded, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t about to let go. “Listening to you sing was a gift, Lucy. Have you ever sung professionally?”
“She used to, all the time,” Ashley informed him. “With my brother and his band before he died.”
Why did Ashley pick now to be open and forthcoming? Lucy gently extricated her hand and pasted an uneasy smile on her face.
“Now I just sing in the choir.”
“What if that were to change?”
Ed stared at her, right at her, his voice serious.
“Have you ever thought of giving music a try as a career?”
Trey came their way just then, holding Belle. The two of them were laughing about something, a pair, a unit, so joyful. Lucy focused on the simple pleasure of that.
“Long ago. Not anymore.”
“But you’re perfect.”
Trey overheard Ed’s praise. He paused, looking back and forth between them.
“I can’t disagree with Ed’s assessment, ma’am.” He touched the brim of an imaginary hat. “And while perfect is a bit of a stretch for us mere mortals, I’d say the Good Lord knew exactly what he was doin’ when he created you, Ms. Lucy.”
“Thank you, both.” She pretended to swoon. “I’m not sure what I did to warrant this kind of attention, gentlemen. All this fuss and bother could turn a girl’s head.”
“I’m serious.”
The deep note in Ed’s tone paused her. It paused Trey too.
“We don’t have to discuss this here and now, but, Lucy, you have a gift.”
She looked at her kids. “Several of them, in fact.”
“Talent like yours is special.” Ed held up his hands, palms out. “Listen, I won’t browbeat you, I’m just overwhelmed that I strolled into a tucked-in-the-hills church and discovered one of the most beautiful voices I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear.”
Who could resist a compliment like that? “Thank you. What a lovely thing to say. But now I’ve got to get these kids on the road.”
She hooked her thumb toward the vehicle and called Cade’s and Cody’s names. “Gotta go, guys. Ashley has to get to work.”
“And Mr. Hobbs promised to take us for a ride up the hill!” Cody shouted the words as he and Cade raced their way. Cade beat him, but not by as much this time, and they scrambled into the van, then into their seats.
“I love Hobbs,” Lucy noted to no one in particular. She turned toward Ed as Trey watched Belle climb up into her car seat. “Ed, it was good meeting you.”
“Ed’s coming up to the ranch,” Trey told her, but he didn’t look her way, and he didn’t sound excited. He kept his attention on Belle as she tucked herself into the seat. “I’m taking him to the airport later today.”
“You should drive to Seattle with us,” said Ed. “That would give me over an hour to crunch numbers and details with you.”
“Ed.” Trey looked up from checking Belle’s clasps. “Stop pushing.”
“You’re right.” Ed backed up a step. “I don’t mean to be rude. We can just talk at the ranch.”
“Or not.” Trey met Ed’s eyes with a firm look once he straightened. “We can table the whole thing right now. Lucy’s not interested. Are you?” He looked her way then, and darn if she didn’t just become interested because he said she wasn’t.
“Stop. Both of you.” She climbed into the driver’s seat of a van filled with her current reality—kids—and faced Ed. “I’m flattered, of course, but I honestly have no idea what this all means and where flattery ends and cold, hard business begins. And with everything I’ve got on my plate”—she flashed a glance into the rearview mirror—“I’m not up for any more dead ends in life. I’ve got a plan of action now, thanks to Sam and Trey, and that’s plenty.”
It might have ended there, Ed might have accepted her dismissal and moved on, but then Trey added his two cents.
“It is. More than enough, most likely. Our thoughts were to make things easier for Lucy. Not tougher.”
A burr formed between her shoulder blades, an old wound, rubbed raw by a mean-spirited, self-absorbed father and a similar husband. She’d been belittled and demeaned for too many years, until faith in God had created faith in herself, and no one got to call the shots anymore. Except her.
Yes, she’d promised herself she’d sing simply for the Lord. But she’d also promised herself that no one would ever again bul
ly her into decisions she was loathe to make. She didn’t look at Trey. She couldn’t. She faced Ed once she started the engine. “We’ll talk later.”
Ed’s face relaxed instantly. “Good.”
Trey’s didn’t. His face went flat. He stood there wearing a guarded expression, as if her words threw him off.
Ed’s queries had thrown her off, too, but in the end the decision was up to her and only her. She’d learned to stand her ground because appeasement didn’t work, not in the long run. And Lucy was done having other people make decisions for her.
Trey drove back to the ranch, grim faced. Ed was too busy texting Nashville movers and shakers to notice, and Trey knew what that meant in the industrious agent’s world. He was already sending out feelers, wondering what label might want an amazing new talent wrapped in a drop-dead beautiful package. He parked the car, let Isabo take charge of Ed, and headed for the barn.
He wanted to punch someone.
The peacemaker of the three Stafford boys was aching to have a knock-down, drag-out fight with the next available person.
She didn’t mean it, did she?
Remembering the expression on Lucy’s face, he realized she might mean it. She absolutely, positively meant it, and the minute she said that, his gentle, easygoing plans flew out the window.
Thoughts of Cathy crowded his brain.
She was an amazing talent too. A child prodigy. Born to please. Born for the stage, a musical entity in and of herself. And by her fourth year in, she was so dependent on drugs that she could barely function without them.
She’d straightened herself out before they met, and all Trey could see was the innocent beauty of the woman she was. He knew her past. He knew what Sallie and Rich had done to her. Embezzled her earnings and lied their way into her accounts. Everyone knew it; the scandal was front-page news.
He’d fallen for her quickly, and she’d done the same. He’d even accepted that her past was in the past, and knowing she’d overcome a drug addiction was like a crowning glory. His parents had never been able to dig their way out. Maybe they’d tried, maybe they hadn’t. It didn’t matter. Cathy had fought her way through the darkness and into the light, and he loved her for it. And she’d loved him back, making her love a vindication and a benediction, all at once. The drugs hadn’t won. He did.
Peace in the Valley Page 24
