by Mae Nunn
“Today’s Times is determined to do a feature next month on the perils of being a private kid in the public spotlight. They want something apart from the sitcom tragedies of the eighties and the editor seems to think I’m the perfect subject.”
Luke’s jaw tensed as he ground his teeth. “This is all O’Malley’s doing, isn’t it?”
“Not entirely.” She felt lame defending the man, but it really was her own fault. Mama always said when you pick up a snake you should expect to get bitten. “The editor had the idea for the feature, but O’Malley’s on to something and he’s going to get his story with or without my help.”
“Oh, sugar.” Luke leaned his head against the tall padded back of the booth and closed his eyes. “I knew the moment I recognized the guy that he was bringing something bad into our lives.”
Our lives. He saw this as his problem, too. Her spirit lifted for the first time that day.
Thank You, Father, that Luke isn’t rejecting me because I’m damaged goods, that he cares enough to feel my worries as though they were his. For just a moment her heart felt lighter. Then she realized what he’d said.
“You recognized O’Malley?”
“Uh, yeah, when you brought him into the church that night.” His words rushed out. “I knew I’d heard his name somewhere before. He’s pretty big in print journalism, ya know.”
“And you tried to warn me.” She hung her head.
“Hey.” His fingers tightened on hers. “It was just a hunch and I could have been wrong.”
“But you weren’t, and now look what a mess I could be in.”
“Maybe not.” The distracted tone of Luke’s voice said he was mulling over the subject.
Her gaze darted upward. “What makes you say that?”
“Let me think about this today, I may have an idea.”
Her head throbbed with the problem. She disentangled her fingers from Luke’s and massaged her temples with the heels of both hands. “I’m going to give this to God. There’s nothing else I can do anyway.”
With his pulse pounding at the base of his throat, Luke watched Claire pressing her hands to her head, as if she were trying to squeeze the fear from her mind. The worry emanated from her like waves of heat, searing his skin and sinking into his soul.
A small, unwanted thought started low in the depths of his consciousness and spiraled upward, determined to surface no matter how he tried to ignore it. In the span of a few seconds it was a fully formed plan that was fated to change the course of his life. But could he go through with it? For the precious, unselfish woman across the table from him, yes, he would make the sacrifice.
He loved Claire. The feeling was a deep, pure emotion he’d never known before and may never experience again. No matter the future, he would carry his feelings for her for the rest of his days. So her problems were his problems, but how could he tell her that? How could he help without tipping the hand he was trying so hard to keep to himself? He couldn’t change the past, but surely he could do something that would make a difference for her future. Something to help her hate him less after he was gone.
He adjusted his cap, repositioned the sunglasses over his eyes and stood with his hand out to Claire.
“You’re right. As Christ said, worry won’t add a single day to your life.” Luke pulled her to her feet, admiring the faith of the woman who stood before him. “I have a lot to do today and if you’ll give me some help I think I can keep you too busy to worry about this.”
Grateful eyes sought his. “Thank you, Luke. That’s all I really wanted to hear you say.”
“No, I don’t have an appointment, but please give Mr. O’Malley my card and tell him I’m prepared to wait as long as it takes to see him today. I only need a few minutes of his time.”
Luke snapped his business card on the granite counter before the receptionist and then settled into a chair by the window. On a hot summer day, the vision of New York from the thirty-eighth floor of the office tower was incredible. It had been years since he’d visited the city that never sleeps. After a slow turn around the island while they awaited landing instructions from air traffic control, Luke had enjoyed the view as the aircraft approached LaGuardia.
Now he glanced down at his jeans and T-shirt. There had been no time to change. He’d rattled off a list of jobs for Claire to accomplish, made a half-dozen phone calls and then headed straight to Bush Intercontinental Airport. Luke had been telling the truth about his busy day, even if he hadn’t mentioned his schedule now included the first available flight to New York.
“Luke Dawson?” The voice was unsure.
Luke stood and turned to face his old nemesis. Though it galled him to do it, he extended his hand. A man on a mission couldn’t afford to have pride or principles stand in his way.
O’Malley’s eye widened as he accepted Luke’s greeting. “So, it is you. This is quite a surprise given your reluctance to speak with me in Houston.”
Luke withheld the expected apology. “I’m a busy man just as I’m sure you are. Could we speak privately? This won’t take long.”
“Evelyn, answer my line, please.” O’Malley inclined his head in understanding and turned toward his corner office. “Right this way.”
Luke fell into step behind O’Malley, a prisoner following the padre to the gallows. As he strode toward a front-end collision with the truth he prayed his decision to protect Claire at all cost wasn’t one he’d have to pay for the rest of his life.
Claire sat in the sound booth next to Dana and listened for what seemed like the hundredth time as the Sons rehearsed their opening number. Dana rolled her unadorned eyes and puffed her cheeks out, evidence of her exasperation over the lackluster performance.
The guys were dragging from days of non-stop practice. On an energy level scale, theirs was at bedrock. Once the auditorium was packed with kids, that alone would build excitement, but they couldn’t depend on the momentum of teenage vibes to get them through what would surely be the most important performance of their young lives. They needed to be pumped from the inside out. Each member of the band had a personal stake in the outcome of the recording and that buy-in had to be evident in every movement that accompanied the music. Without the unique synergy of the Harvest Sons on top of the enthusiasm of their audience, they were doomed.
Something was simply missing. Certainly it made a difference that Luke was out of pocket for the day, but there was more. The joy of the event had leaked out of the band as if a pinprick had released the lighter than air element that kept them flying high over this career opportunity. She watched the guys struggling with the number they could play in their sleep under normal circumstances.
What had Luke said to her only last night? Abundant Harvest is like a whole ’nother experience. And why shouldn’t that impression carry into their recording? Why not take this unique experience to the next level? Kick it up a notch.
Claire fished her Blackberry out of its hiding place in the bottom of her shoulder bag and dialed directory assistance. Several phone calls later she punched the A/V console button that would feed her voice to the stage.
“Eric, you guys take fifteen.”
“Thanks, Miss Claire, but we’ve gotta work through this problem with the chorus before Luke gets back or he’ll skin us alive.”
She smiled at Luke’s familiar threat, knowing he’d probably never skinned more than his own knee.
“I think I have a suggestion that may help, but I need to speak with Pastor Ken first. So you guys grab a soda and relax. I promise I’ll have something encouraging to share with you when I get back.”
When they waved agreement she turned to Dana. “You take a break, too. It’s been a long day for everybody but I think it’s about to get exciting again.”
Dana’s eyes narrowed. “What are you up to, Miss Claire?”
“That obvious, huh?” She smiled at the girl who was looking like a Gap commercial in her khaki slacks, polo shirt and trendy pink high-top sneakers
.
“Oh, yeah. You had that same look in your eye the night you talked my dad into chaperoning the seventh grade ski trip.”
“And didn’t we have a blast riding that bus all the way to Colorado?” she insisted, then hurried down the steps of the elevated booth and made a beeline for the pastor’s office.
“Ken?” she called, as she knocked on the frame of the door that was always open.
“Hey, Claire.” He looked up from the materials she knew he was organizing into his next discipleship curriculum. “What’s up?”
“Luke needs our help.”
Ken leaned forward, waiting for details.
“He’s offered to make good on the losses of those California churches.”
Ken whistled at the potential amount. “But the investigation is still under way.”
“Nothing I could say would make him reconsider.”
“Luke shouldn’t feel responsible for that money if he’s completely innocent.”
The pastor’s words niggled at the edge of her thoughts. She hadn’t slowed down enough in the days since the accusation to objectively consider Luke’s determination to repay the losses. He couldn’t possibly feel guilty in some way, could he? Was he insisting on making restitution because the damage was somehow his fault?
“Should we check with Daniel, find out if there’s any news on the investigation?” she asked.
“He said he’d call as soon as he had anything.” Ken shook his head, waved away her concern. “No, I’ve got a good sense about Luke. From what I’ve seen of him, it doesn’t really surprise me that he feels responsible, whether he is or not. He’s a straight shooter and in his mind this may be the only way to handle a situation when people he cares for are involved.” Ken angled his head and gave her a pointed look. “You couldn’t do much better than a man like Luke Dawson.”
“I get the hint.” She grinned weakly, knowing sadness and now confusion laced the smile. “Unfortunately, that’s not up to me.”
“How can I help this along?”
“I don’t know that there’s much you can do on that subject. Luke’s even more private than I am so I wouldn’t presume to guess how he feels about matters of the heart.
“But I do have some insight into how important his business is to him and how much he loves his work. If he has to give up what little security he has to repay those debts, I don’t know how he’ll continue his music ministry.”
“Would he accept a loan?”
“I already went that route. He wouldn’t hear of it.”
Ken leaned back in his old desk chair, scratched his jaw and puzzled over the situation. Then his eyes met Claire’s. “What are you thinking, young lady?”
She felt a peace settle over her that comes only from serving others. Her idea may be half-baked, but it was inspired. With an army of help, the wonderful folks of Abundant Harvest could pull it off. She was certain of it.
She was also certain that if her plan was successful she could foolishly be helping the man she’d fallen in love with to move on with his life, pushing him on his way just as if she’d packed his bags herself.
Chapter Fourteen
At two in the morning the courtesy shuttle pulled to a stop at the tailgate of Luke’s heavy-duty pickup.
“Man, tough break,” the driver said as he glanced down at the conspicuous orange “boot” device that held Luke’s front tire prisoner.
Through the light drizzle, Luke caught sight of the “Reserved for City Official” sign posted on the fence and slapped a palm against his forehead.
“Even in a hurry, I should have known that spot was too good to be true.” Luke fished a ten from his wallet and held it toward the twentysomething driver.
“Is there any chance you could take me to the impound lot so I can pay my fine and get that thing unlocked?”
“Sorry, dude, but they’re closed till eight. It’s the city’s way of grinding a little salt in the wound.”
Luke scuffed the backs of his hands over his eyes and groaned. He’d planned to wait until later in the day to break the news to Claire, but now seemed like as good a time as any. Besides, he needed a ride.
Thirty minutes later she swung her ancient Wagoneer through the circular drive of the park-and-fly lot. Beneath the portico, she stomped the brake, rolled down the window and poked out her head.
“Hey stranger, can I give you a lift?” she teased.
He leaned his elbows against the faded red truck as he lightly placed a hand on either side of her head. Even at this hour with a hectic day behind her, she was stunning. He angled his mouth over hers and kissed her more deeply than he’d ever dared before, sharing a message of longing that he could never put into words.
It was done. The price had been high but he’d saved Claire’s future. Unfortunately, he had less than twenty-four hours before word of Striker’s resurfacing broke. Then he might as well have a bounty on his head. Every newshound or over-thirty rock fan would be hunting him down.
Thank God the plan had worked. O’Malley had taken the bait and swallowed the hook. In exchange for Today’s Times losing interest in Claire Savage, Luke gave an exclusive that was far bigger and more sensational than anything the publisher had imagined. If they wanted to examine the life of a kid in the spotlight, their wildest dreams had just come true.
Luke was in the driver’s seat and he had some requirements that were not open for discussion. After the deal was struck O’Malley had rushed Luke two floors down to a cable news studio. He sat in darkness, his face shielded from the camera as they taped spots that would tease the listening audience. In order to learn the full story of Striker Dark’s disappearance from his high-profile life in the heavy-metal music scene over a decade ago, fans would have to purchase the upcoming issue. Today’s Times was literally stopping the presses to include the sensational scoop.
The anonymity Luke had guarded so closely would evaporate the moment his words were type-set. The ministry he’d built would collapse under the weight of his past sins. His days as low-profile business owner Luke Dawson were numbered and he could count them on one hand. Striker Dark loomed large in the shadows and he was finally about to have his moment in the sunlight again.
“Wow,” Claire breathed when Luke ended the kiss. “Welcome back from wherever you’ve been.”
He rounded the front bumper of the old truck, jumped into the passenger’s seat and dumped his backpack into the floorboard as the door closed against the damp night.
“You’re a life saver. Thanks for looking after Freeway today and for coming out in this crummy weather.” He buckled the seat belt and folded his hands together to control the nervous fidgeting that had plagued him during the long flight.
She smiled and shrugged off the praise. “When you live in Houston you get used to summer rain. Besides, a late night drive beat anything on cable by a long shot.”
He flinched at the mention of cable television, certain the spots were already being aired.
“Glad I didn’t wake you.”
“Oh, I have too much on my mind to be asleep anyway.”
“Good stuff?” he questioned.
The tiny creases of worry that had framed her eyes earlier in the day were gone. She seemed relaxed and energized, just the opposite of what he was feeling at the moment.
“Lots of good stuff. Practice went extremely well today. I think you’ll be surprised at the progress the guys made while you were gone.”
“See, they can do it without me. They won’t miss a beat once they’re on their own, especially as long as you’re still willing to help out.”
Her smile faltered.
Now, why had he brought that up? With the pieces of the puzzle fitted together, he fully understood the damage his leaving would inflict upon Claire. And there was more yet to come.
She turned her attention to merging onto the dark expressway that was busy with fast-moving vehicles even at this hour. Passing her hand over the shadows of the dashboard, she twis
ted a knob and the windshield wipers creaked to life. The summer rain was creating a slick sheen on the steamy pavement.
“I guess they fed you on the flight from…” She waited for him to complete the sentence.
He hesitated. Was this the time? And how much should he tell her? Just enough to ease her mind, or everything? He’d prayed for the answers to those questions as the 727 jet had cruised the skies across eight states. Fate seemed to have set up this unexpected time together. Luke wondered if he was meant to take advantage of it.
Claire squinted through the windshield that always needed washing. Fat raindrops spattered against the glass before the wipers whisked them away. As sure as the storm clouds that had gathered all day dampened the city, Luke’s comment had dampened her excitement over the day’s whirlwind of plans. She exhaled the sadness from her lungs and fixed her prize-winning smile back in place. The goal was to help Luke. No strings attached, and certainly no guilt heaped on him for placing the work he loved above all else. Above her.
She playfully elbowed his arm to snap him out of his silent thoughts.
“Was the weather at least nicer where you went today?”
“I didn’t notice.”
The quiet gaze he turned on her was impossible to read in the shadows of the truck. He seemed conflicted, reluctant to talk. The grumpy-old-Luke facade that he wore with the boys was moments from settling back into place.
She accelerated and pulled into a left-hand lane to pass the old sedan that slowed her progress.
“I went to see O’Malley,” he blurted.
“In New York?” Amazed by his admission, she let off the gas pedal, her head snapping to the right.
A horn blared from behind when the Wagoneer suddenly lost speed. Claire’s hand flew to the cross at her throat as she picked up the pace again. She glared in her rearview mirror at the impatient driver.
