Grace Unplugged: A Novel (3 page)

“You’re still great on piano,” Dad told her, “but happy birthday, baby.”

She looked at Mom, who was giggling as she caught all this on the camcorder. “Well, go ahead,” Mom told her. “Play us something.”

Happy to accommodate them, Grace picked up the beautiful golden guitar and sat down on the couch, starting to play the chords Dad had taught her on his guitar. Before long, with Mom still running the camcorder, Dad joined her with his guitar, and they began playing “It Is Well” together. And it was really great. But then Grace started to speed up the song, playing louder and harder and imagining she was a real rock star playing for a crowd of fans. And that was when her dad put the brakes on.

“No, no, keep it slow,” he said quietly.

“It’s better faster,” she insisted.

“It’s better slow,” he gently told her. “It’s a slow sort of song.”

Grace hadn’t agreed with him then anymore than she’d agreed with him yesterday. But grateful for the gorgeous guitar and aware that the camera had still been running, Grace had forced a smile and continued to play—this time more slowly.

Grace sighed as she put her guitar back in its well-worn guitar case. Maybe today wasn’t a good day for songwriting after all. Besides, there was something to be said about timing, and if the inspiration wasn’t coming, why force it?

Still, as she walked back to the car, she couldn’t help but think this was all related to her father. He was always trying to slow her down, always putting on the brakes when she was ready to fly. He seemed to want to mold her and her music into what he considered “good.” As if, left to her own devices, she would most certainly drive it straight into the nearest ditch.

As she drove down Main Street, it was becoming clearer and clearer. Whether it was her music or her education or what kind of ring she wore on which finger, Dad wanted his say. And as she parked in front of the bookstore, it was obvious—her dad simply wanted to control her.

Grace went inside the familiar Christian bookstore, where as usual, she was greeted by pleasant inspirational music. She wandered the aisles, checking out the recent releases in the CD section and pausing to admire some of the slick posters of some of the hottest Christian musicians. She knew her dad hoped to see his poster up there someday in the not-so-distant future. And maybe it would happen. It was possible that Johnny Trey’s new Christian album would become a massive hit. After all, miracles still happened, didn’t they? And even though Grace wasn’t a huge fan of her own father’s music, there had to be some people out there who were willing to plunk down their hard-earned money to buy his songs. At least the good people of Homewood Community Church should want a Johnny Trey album.

Grace continued wandering, eventually discovering Rachel near the back of the store in the vacation Bible school section. “What’s up back here?” Grace asked.

“There’s been a run on these materials lately,” Rachel explained as she removed some books from a cart.

“Well, it is summer,” Grace said in a grumpy tone. “Remember how we always got forced to go to VBS every summer?”

“What’s wrong with you?” Rachel gave Grace a curious glance as she slid a workbook onto the shelf.

“Just starting to figure things out.” Then, as Rachel filled shelves, Grace quickly told her about this morning’s revelation. “It’s like Dad wants to control me.”

“Your dad just loves you.” Rachel studied the spine of a thick book. “You know that.”

Now Grace explained it more thoroughly to her. She expounded on the music and college; and, as embarrassing as it was, she even told her about the silly promise ring. “And I am, like, eighteen—
excuse me?
”

Rachel giggled. “That’s pretty funny. But I still don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

Grace stared at her friend. Was she serious? Or had she simply gone deaf?

“Grace, your dad’s cool.” Rachel reached for a small stack of paperbacks.

“See, everyone thinks because he’s this ‘rock star who got saved,’ that makes him cool. Trust me, he’s NOT COOL.”

Rachel put a finger to her lips. “Hey, keep it down.”

Grace exhaled through her nostrils. Why was Rachel being so dense?

“I don’t get it,” Rachel said gently. “You guys used to be so close. You’ve been playing together since you were, like six.”

“I know. And he still treats me like I’m six!” Grace lowered her voice. “He’s
always
in my face. And it’s like every second has to turn into this
brilliant
teaching moment.”

“All dads do that.” Rachel reached for more books.

“Not like mine. He’s obsessed.”

“Grace, you have the best life ever.”

“No. I don’t.” Grace studied her best friend as she worked. How was it possible that Rachel was siding with Dad?

Rachel stood up straight and looked Grace right in the eye. “Look at you,” she said quietly. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous. You’re this amazing singer. Now, you get to make an album—”

“Dad’s album! Don’t you get this? It’s all
his
songs—played
his
way.”

“Well, it is his album, isn’t it?”

Grace nodded. “And I get that. I know it’s his first album in, like, forever. But still. I mean, seriously, he would never think about doing one of my songs.”

“You don’t have any songs.”

“That’s my point!” Grace remembered how hard she’d tried to write a song this morning. It was like Dad had been right there the whole while, breathing down her neck and second-guessing every word, every line, every chord.

Rachel looked confused. “Oh . . . ?”

“I’m
trying
to write,” Grace said desperately. “More than anything, I want to write the perfect song so he can’t say no. And it’s in my head but I can’t get it out because . . .” She sighed. “Because he suffocates me.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Yes. And I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be the sidekick of the great
one-hit-wonder Johnny Trey
for the rest of my life. I mean, for once, I want to do things my way.”

“Okay, I get it.” Rachel reached for some workbooks, putting them in numerical order. “But it is worship, right? It’s not supposed to be about you, Grace.”

Grace just stared at Rachel. Okay, she was right on some levels. But at the same time, why didn’t she understand what Grace was trying to tell her? Why was she acting just like Dad? “Yeah, I get that,” Grace mumbled. “I know it’s worship. What I mean is . . .” She tried to think of a way to make this clear. But the words, just like when she’d been trying to write a song, were stuck inside of her. “Never mind, Rachel. Just forget it.” And without saying another word, Grace just walked away. She couldn’t get out of the stuffy store quickly enough. Really, why had she even tried to make Rachel understand this? Oh, yeah, because Rachel was supposed to be her best friend. But if her best friend didn’t get this, who could?

Chapter 3

H
ey, Johnny,” Michelle called out from where she was rinsing something in the sink. “Tim and Sharon are just pulling into the driveway.”

“Is it already six?” Johnny set his guitar down on the breakfast nook where he’d been working on a song and slowly stood.

“It’s past six,” she told him. “Can you go let them in?”

“On my way, darlin’.” As he strolled through the dining room, he checked out the nicely laid table. It was great knowing his wife was such a natural hostess. Whether they were entertaining big-wig record moguls or just the neighbors, Michelle always knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Tonight they were having Pastor Tim and his wife, Sharon, for dinner, and the table looked inviting.

“Hello,” he said as he opened the door wide. “Welcome, welcome!”

They were barely inside when Michelle joined them, and the four exchanged hugs all around. “I have iced tea and strawberry lemonade in the kitchen,” she announced. Soon they all had drinks in hand, and while the women remained in the kitchen, Johnny led Tim to his study, giving him the two-bit tour.

“Aha,” Tim said, “so is this where you keep all your music memorabilia.” He began scanning the photos and awards displayed on the walls. “Impressive.”

Johnny laughed. “Not that impressive. Don’t forget it was just one hit.”

“But didn’t I hear that you’re planning to make a new album?”

“That’s the plan,” Johnny said. “Nothing’s written in stone yet.”

Tim peered up at a photo of Johnny with some of his recording buddies in Nashville. “Those are some big-name musicians there with you, Johnny.”

Johnny nodded. “Yep. At the time we all thought I was going to be a big name too.”

“You are a big name,” Tim assured him.

“Ah, well, as long as God knows my name.” He waved his hand toward the wall behind him. “Believe me, this is all Michelle’s doing. She thinks I should have this stuff out for everyone to see. Fortunately we keep it contained to just one room.” Johnny tipped his head to the door. “Sounds like Michelle’s calling us to dinner now.”

“So did you and Michelle live in Nashville?” Tim asked as they walked back through the house.

“Nah. We never actually lived there. But I did grow up ten minutes from Graceland,” Johnny said as they went into the dining room where Michelle was telling them where to sit at the table.

Tim chuckled. “Now I get it. That makes sense.”

“Yeah, my parents wanted Hank Williams. I gave them Elvis.”

The others laughed, and Johnny noticed that Grace’s chair was empty. He glanced at Michelle, but she was distracted with filling water glasses.

“I loved Elvis,” Sharon said as she sat down.

“Yeah, he was just enough gospel for my parents not to worry about me too much—not at first anyway.”

Now Tim pointed to his wife. “
You
loved Elvis?”

This caused even more laughter. But Johnny was distracted by seeing Grace coming into the dining room with her guitar case and Bible in hand. “You going to youth group early tonight?” he asked her.

“Yep.” She looked at Michelle. “Sorry you set a plate for me, Mom.” She turned to smile at the Bryants. “Nice seeing you guys tonight.”

“You too, Grace,” Sharon said warmly.

“Have a good evening,” Tim told her.

“Hey, Grace,” Johnny said as she was going. “Can you fill the car up?”

“Sure.”

“You can use the card,” he said.

“Okay.” She was backing out of the room, obviously eager to be on her way, which made him curious. Why was she in such a hurry, and why was she going early?

“Now don’t forget,” he warned her.

“I
won’t
.” Her tone had changed from friendly to crisply irritated.

“Actually, why don’t you do it before youth group, Grace?” he added. “So you don’t forget.”

Now Grace gave him a look to assure him that she was mad or embarrassed or something, but not wanting to put a damper on the evening, he just laughed it off. “Teenagers,” he said when he heard the front door slam closed. Fortunately, the Bryants seemed unfazed by his rude daughter. But after the blessing was said, he turned to Tim. “Your kids ever act like that?”

Tim laughed. “Come on, man, I’m a pastor. My kids were perfect.”

“That’s funny.” Sharon shook her head.

Johnny sighed as he shook out his napkin and laid it in his lap. “I don’t know what’s going on lately. She and I used to be so tight, you know.” Now he looked at his guests and made a forced smile. “Glad you wrote a book about this stuff,” he said to Tim. “Maybe someday she’ll read it.”

As food was passed around, Johnny tried to shake off his concerns over his willful daughter. After all, she was still a teenager. They were supposed to go through stages of rebellion, independence, and autonomy. All kids acted out at times. Besides, he reassured himself, Grace was a good Christian girl. And on her way to youth group. Really, what more could a dad wish for?