Lone Star Holiday

by Jolene Navarro

  He stepped away from the Baldwin without responding.

  She followed him, her gaze roaming over his old life. “This collection of quality instruments tells me a great deal about the owner. Music is not just a hobby but in every fiber of your DNA. How could you cut it out of your life completely?”

  Opening a violin case, he ran his fingers over the dark glossy wood. “Guilt. Easier to lock it away than deal with it.” Raising his head, he looked into her sweet eyes. “Ephesians tells us, ‘For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works.’ When I cut music from my life I wasn’t completely trusting God.” He walked over to her. “The other day you said I wasn’t sharing my gifts. I’d like to thank you for that, Lorrie Ann. I know you think God brought you here because you needed us, but God also brought you into my life. Because we need you just as much.”

  “Oh, John.” Tears started beading up before she spun away from him. “I’ll put these in your backseat. The kids are going to fall in love with them.”

  Yeah, and he seemed to be falling in love with her. But he kept that to himself, grabbing a couple violins and following her out.

  * * *

  Lorrie Ann looked across the field. Everywhere she turned, people were working. She glanced down at her list, so much still undone.

  The donkey, Alfredo, only moved if you gave him a banana, but it disagreed with him, causing foul odors to fill the air around him, every time. Her fingers went to her forehead when she saw Celeste and her group rolling around like puppies again. The pressure pounded against her temple.

  She looked down at her notes once more, hoping for answers. The lights guy still didn’t understand stage cues, and Vickie argued over every costume idea. As of yet, Lorrie Ann had not seen one completed outfit.

  She walked toward the band. Her solo drummer had pulled a disappearing act again.

  Stopping at the edge of the stage, she waited for John to finish showing Kenny how to place his fingers on the strings of the new Gibson.

  “Excuse me, guys. Have you seen Derrick?”

  They both looked up at her, smiles on their faces. “No, ma’am, but I saw Carlos, so he should be around somewhere,” Kenny answered.

  She hated when they called her ma’am, but they couldn’t seem to help themselves.

  Humor flooded John’s eyes as he smiled at her. “Your special project gone AWOL again?”

  There seemed to be a new lightness in John since they had pulled his instruments out of storage. Sharing his music skills with the kids came so naturally to him.

  Last Sunday in church, he had led a worship song. His voice had hit every note perfectly with so much emotion, everyone had stood in awe, forgetting to sing along.

  With his influence, the quality of their sound would improve greatly by the night of the show.

  That was the only thing going right. She looked down at her notes yet again. More question marks and concerns shadowed her script.

  She reluctantly looked back to the stage. The worst part of her life right now? She was totally falling in love with a man that could never be hers.

  She checked her phone. She didn’t have even half the to-do list done, and everyone was already packing up. Mothers arrived to pick up the younger ones, and she finally saw Derrick sitting in a truck waiting for Carlos.

  She hurried over and smiled at him. “Hey, missed you. Have you been practicing?”

  He nodded. “I had work to do for my uncle.”

  “That’s fine. Your part is a solo. Just keep practicing. You’ll make it for the full rehearsal, right?”

  He shrugged.

  “Derrick, if you need any help, all you have to do is ask. It’s okay. People want to help.”

  He nodded but kept his face straight ahead.

  “Well, okay.” She patted the door. “Oh, look, here comes Carlos.”

  “Hello, Miss Lorrie Ann. Dare has been practicing every minute at home. Momma yells, but he just keeps practicing.”

  Derrick rolled his eyes and waited for Carlos to buckle up before starting the old work truck.

  “Bye, Carlos. Bye, Derrick.”

  Carlos leaned out as far as the seat belt would allow and waved. “Bye, Miss Lorrie Ann. Bye, Celeste.”

  Lorrie Ann looked behind her and found Celeste standing there. “Hey, girl. You ready to go home? Your father has meetings tonight at the church.”

  “Yeah. Rachel is talking to Seth.”

  Lorrie Ann frantically scanned the area, tracking down Rachel and Seth. They sat at the piano, laughing. She grabbed Celeste’s hand and rushed toward them. A groan escaped her throat when she saw John make his way to the pair.

  He laughed at something Seth said, causing Rachel to glare at her father. Seth slid off the bench and shook John’s hand. He moved away from them, walking backward. With a silly smile on his face, Seth missed the step and lost his balance. Rachel gasped and jumped up, reaching for her crutch.

  Vickie stood by the storage door. “Seth, stop being an idiot and get to the car.” She stomped off without another word.

  John stood over Seth with his hand out. “Are you okay, Seth?”

  “Yes, sir.” He took the offered hand, his face redder than a fresh strawberry.

  “Welcome to the man club. Beautiful girls turn us all into goofs.” John patted him on the shoulder.

  “Daddy!” Horror filled Rachel’s face.

  John laughed and rubbed the top of her head. “Sweetheart, it’s time for y’all to head home. I have a building meeting tonight.” He hugged Celeste and winked at Lorrie Ann. “I’ll see you when I get home.”

  She raised her eyebrows. His mood seemed different tonight.

  “See ya.” She reached for Celeste’s hand and headed to her car. Rachel pouted as she climbed into the front seat.

  Lorrie Ann sighed as she headed home.

  Home. Oh, man. When had John and his girls so completely slipped into her heart? When had the cabin become home?

  She thought about the contacts in California, waiting for her reply. Time had run out. She couldn’t afford to play house with John any longer.

  * * *

  John’s boots hit the top step. If anyone asked him about his faith, he told them he’d turned his life completely over to God. For the past week his eyes and heart had been open to the punishment he’d inflicted on himself.

  Lorrie was right, but he didn’t know if he wanted to tell her. He smiled. She already seemed a bit bossy.

  Working with the youth and music brought another worship experience back into his life. Threading his fingers through his hair, John interlocked them on the top of his head and gazed at the stars shimmering in the deep purple sky.

  He should know by now God’s timing was beyond his understanding but always virtuous. He needed to trust God’s plans for him were good.

  With a deep breath, John gave the stars one last look before turning to the cabin. He stopped and laid his palms flat against the rough cedar wood of the door. He pictured her waiting for him on the back porch and the two precious girls sleeping in his bed. He took a deep breath and prayed.

  “God, give me courage to deal with what’s in my heart. Lord, You know my soul and the fear I harbor. Release me from that burden so I can serve You more completely.”

  He put his hands on the doorknob and eased it open. Stepping into the hall, he checked on the girls. The night had turned cool, and he fixed two cups of hot chocolate before heading to the deck. He paused at the door and let his eyes drift over her. The soft light of the moon washed her in warmth as she leaned against the railing, face turned up to the stars.

  “Hello.”

  She jumped.

  “Sorry.” He stepped through the door and handed her
a cup with steam still swirling upward.

  She grasped it with both hands and took a deep breath, pulling the warmth into her. “You read my mind.” Sitting in the other rocking chair, she looked at him over the cup and smiled. “Thank you.”

  Smiling back, he took a sip before saying anything. “You were deep in thought when I got here. Girls give you any problems? Rachel still mad at me?”

  She laughed, the kind that reminded him of softly playing Christmas bells. “I told her to get used to it. A father that loves his daughter should take every opportunity to torture the boys around her.”

  “Yeah, I thought about installing a rifle over the front door. Dub has an old twenty-two. I remember the first time I met him, he was cleaning it.” Laughing, he leaned back in the rocker and took another sip. “Carol got so mad at him. Later I learned he never kept bullets in it.”

  Her laughter became louder before she covered her mouth and twisted to see if she had wakened the girls. “Sorry, that’s just too funny. They’ll appreciate your efforts one day, I promise.”

  He tried picturing his girls old enough to date and couldn’t do it. He looked back at Lorrie Ann. She had one leg tucked under her as she rocked with the other one. She stared at the black-outlined hills while taking sips of the hot cocoa. Below the deck a deer snorted.

  “So, if it wasn’t the girls, what had you lost in thought?” The only sound she made in response was a deep sigh. Amazing how much a single sigh said while at the same time saying nothing at all. “Anyone giving you problems with the play?”

  She shook her head. He knew sharing didn’t come easy to her, so he waited.

  Setting her cup on the deck, she pulled her knees to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, making herself into a tight ball. He wanted to haul her up against him and promise her he’d fix it, but his own fears kept him out of arm’s reach.

  She finally turned to him, her cheek resting on her knee. “I got a call this morning from Melissa. The band has decided to hire a new manager.”

  “Oh, Lorrie Ann, I’m sorry.”

  She gave him a heartbreaking grin, the kind he now recognized Rachel used when she didn’t want him to worry.

  “Surprisingly, I think I’m okay with it. The whole messy drama with Brent had me concerned anyway.”

  Hope flared in John’s chest. If she stayed here longer, he could take more time to figure out what they had. They could also settle the issue with her mother. She needed the truth, but Maggie had told him to hang on a little longer.

  She faced out again, chin on her denim-clad knee. “With the rumors of the breakup, I’d already received a few inquiries.” She smiled back at him. “In this business, you never know when you have to move on, so having options keeps you relevant. I’m thinking of taking an offer in Nashville.”

  With those words his hope died. God, why can’t something in life come easy? Well, that was not true. His relationship with Carol had been easy, up until the point he had taken her for granted.

  “As soon as the play is over I need to get back to my life. I thought it had to be in L.A., but I realized there are other options, like Nashville. Either way, I’m getting too comfortable here.”

  “What’s wrong with here?”

  “This isn’t real life.”

  “It’s real to me.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

  “I’m not a part of this life. I’m just a guest.”

  John didn’t know the details of her past, but talking with Sonia he could surmise it had been one atrocious event after another. He thought about that little girl, scared and alone, and he wanted to give her a home of her own, a place where love and safety lived in abundance. The question: Would she give up her music career to move here, permanently?

  “You could be a part. Live here.” He leaned forward.

  She shook her head.

  He had to convince her that the dream of a family was waiting to become a reality. He might not be telling her the truth about her mother, but he could tell her what was in his heart. “I’d like the opportunity to know you better.”

  She turned to him, eyes wide. Profound silence filled the space between them.

  “No, you don’t. I’m...” She gave a loathe-filled snort. “Stupid. I thought Brent would stop the late-night parties and take our relationship to the next level. We’d been drifting apart, not really connected. I thought if we got married... Well, classic female naïveté. I should have known better.” She bit her lip and turned away.

  John let the silence hang between them. His fist clenched, wanting to hold her.

  “Man, was my timing off. He flew into a rage, one of the worst I’ve ever seen. He’d been mad at me before, but only when I nagged about his partying.” She buried her face in her hands. A sob escaped. “In my head that sounded normal. I sound like a battered-women cliché.”

  “Lorrie Ann, your life is not a cliché.” John couldn’t hold back any longer. He moved his chair toward her until their knees touched. His fingers wrapped around her smaller hands.

  * * *

  Lorrie Ann studied the calloused hands in contrast with the tender touch John gave so naturally, making her want to curl up in his lap and hide from the world. He had to know the ugly truth about her. “His drug use had gotten worse. He was missing rehearsals and studio times, messing up onstage. I thought if we got married, started a family, he’d straighten out. He screamed at me that I wanted to ruin his life. I don’t remember much of anything after he started hitting me and threw me into the kitchen counter. I pulled up tight into a ball and waited for him to stop. He kicked me a few times then left.”

  Somewhere during the retelling, John had moved next to her. His arms created a warm cocoon as he pulled her against him.

  She rubbed the tears off her cheeks with the backs of her hands and pulled away, ashamed to look John in the face. From the corner of her sight, she saw him comb his fingers through his hair and take in a deep breath.

  Reluctantly, she turned to him, shocked to see a tear run down his cheek. She cupped his face with her hands. “Oh, John, don’t cry for me. I put myself there. When he left, I lay on the floor, and you know what I did?”

  His lips pulled tight in an angry line. With a slight movement of his head, he encouraged her to go on with her story.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat, and her voice dropped low. “I prayed. In twelve, thirteen years, I hadn’t talked to God once, but huddled on the ground, I asked for His help.” She turned her face to the sky, unable to look at him as he heard the truth. “I realized I had become my mother. I had somehow become just like her. I checked for broken bones. I cleaned up and filled my car with clothes. I asked God to take me somewhere safe. There wasn’t a single person in L.A. that I trusted.” He took her hand and pulled her back into his warmth, giving her the courage to continue. Her face pressed against his neck, and she could feel his blood coursing through his veins.

  “I was almost thirty years old, nowhere to go, hiding in a public restroom.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped her lips. “You could say I’d hit rock bottom. And it wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own. Bible in hand, all I could think about was this purple-and-black afghan that Aunt Maggie made me for my thirteenth birthday. I wanted to pull it over my head and hide from the world.” She rolled her eyes and snorted. “I thought I was too cool to take it to L.A. Stupid, huh?” She wiped her face with the back of her arm.

  “No, I think God uses people and items to lead us. You’d need a reason to come home.”

  “Well, there you go. I’m sure you can find at least ten reasons the local pastor shouldn’t date me.” She stood up and moved to the railing. “So half the wild stories about me are lies, but it doesn’t change the facts of my life the past twelve years.” She took a deep breath, clenched her hands in the soft fabric of her skir
t and slid a sideways glance at his beautiful face. She feared seeing loathing, or worse, pity. “I’m not the woman you need, John.”

  “Let God and me decide what I need in my life, Lorrie Ann. Especially what I want.”

  She leaned over the railing, listening to the water move over the rocks and around the roots of the century-old cypress. “The people of this church will never accept me, and if we date, everyone would think we’re moving toward marriage.”

  “For me, marriage would be the goal.”

  “I can’t be a preacher’s wife.” Her voice went a pitch higher. “People would stop coming to your church. They...would think you had lost your mind.”

  He snorted. Actually snorted at her.

  “Maybe I have. Or at least my heart.”

  Her own heart twisted at his words. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m serious.”

  “God knows you. You can’t allow others to tell you who you are as a person.”

  “I know who I am, and more important, what I’m not. I’ve no clue how to be a mother. My own mother gave the world’s worst example.”

  Guilt twisted his stomach. Maybe he should tell her now. He closed his eyes. It wasn’t his secret to tell. He gazed at her, studying the outline of her profile in the moonlight. “My girls lost their mother, and I’m not looking for a replacement. She can’t be replaced, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need mothering. Just as Maggie stepped in when your mother couldn’t take care of you.” He moved next to her, gently forcing her to look at him. “I want them to be around women of character and courage. You, Lorrie Ann Ortega, are a woman of character and courage. In spite of how your mom raised you—” he put a single bent finger under her chin “—or maybe because of her choices.” He moved in close. His face hovered within inches of hers.

  Lorrie Ann could feel his warm breath on her skin. Her gaze locked with his.

  “My girls already adore you. You’ve brought silliness and tenderness to their lives. I tried so hard to be the perfect parent that I didn’t see Rachel trying to be the perfect mom to Celeste.”