Lone Star Holiday (13 page)

“Ah, yes, the little things.” He walked her across the graveled path to Maggie’s back door.

She paused as she reached for the screen door and looked up at him. “Well, good night.”

John swallowed hard and stared into her large eyes, the color dancing from gray to green. Then he remembered to mumble, “Good night.”

He wanted to lean in and kiss her, but he took a step back instead and shoved his hands in his pockets. With one last smile, she turned and disappeared into the dark kitchen. John really needed a distraction. Tossing a green Jolly Rancher into his mouth, he headed back to the cabin.

Chapter Fourteen

J
ohn frowned as he thought about the unused guitars and violins he had in storage. For a Saturday, the church teemed with an unusual number of people. Music poured from the sanctuary. Now the loud enthusiastic chords filled the church with joy, even the misplaced and out-of-tune ones. They could use some good instruments.

“Um...Pastor John, I...um...” Rhody scratched the back of his neck as he stepped out of one of the small rooms, blocking John’s path. “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Sure, Rhody, how can I help you?” John bit back a smile as he watched the other man fidget and look everywhere else to avoid eye contact.

“Well, the other day Katy...um, wanted to talk to you about our marriage. Do you remember?”

“I remember. Have y’all gone to one of the counselors I told you about?” Dread filled John. He didn’t want to give out marriage advice.

“No, I don’t think... Well, they don’t know us....” Rhody made a sound in his throat. “I just want to make her happy. She seems fine one moment, and then she’s sad. She’s always moping over these travel magazines, and I think about the crazy stories of women just taking off, no warning. I’m...I’m afraid one day she’s gonna leave.”

“Maybe she just wants to travel. Where have y’all gone on vacation?” Regret swamped him as John thought of the vacation Carol had taken without him.

“Vacation? With the store open seven days a week, I don’t have time.”

John closed his eyes. The same excuse he’d given Carol every time she’d planned time together.
God, You know I hate giving marriage advice. Please help me say what he needs to hear.
“What about your honeymoon? Where did you take her?”

“We went to San Antonio. It was the Stockshow and Rodeo. My brother got Grand Champion Steer that year.”

Stopping himself from rolling his eyes, John put his hand on Rhody’s shoulder. “Listen, she wants to share an adventure with you. Let her pick a place to go then take her. Enjoy the gift God’s given you.”

“You think that’s all it is? She wants a vacation with me?”

“She loves you. Those four boys are her world. But sometimes we can feel our world is too small.”

Rhody smiled. “I can do that. It’ll be hard covering the store, but maybe my parents can step in for a bit, or Vickie. Yeah, I can do this.” He clasped John’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

John took a deep breath as he watched his friend head out the church door with a new joy in his step. He thought of the simple things he’d never get to do for Carol. Regret made his shoulders heavy.

He continued to the sanctuary, hoping to hear the band practice. As he walked through the doors, only silence filled the space. Checking his watch, he frowned. He had missed them.

Walking up front to the stage, he saw one of the old church guitars resting on its stand. He picked it up and played a few chords.

He thought of Rhody and the store. It was so easy to let people down. The hours he had put into his music had destroyed his marriage. Putting the guitar down, he walked to the piano and sat, looking over the sheet music.

Without thought, his fingers started dancing across the keys. Lorrie Ann brought the best out in the kids. Images of Lorrie Ann faded into memories of Carol working with the youth at his old church. He flinched when his fingers hit the wrong chord.

He had taken Carol and his family for granted. His jaw locked. Worse, he had avoided responsibility by blaming the music God had given him. He had told Rhody to savor the gift of love. What a hypocrite.

Did he deserve another chance at love? Muscle memory took over, and his fingers flew across the keys. The music he had kept locked up poured out of each individual cell inside him, and he surrounded himself in the emotions emptied from every note.

* * *

As Lorrie Ann headed back to the sanctuary, it surprised her to hear a piano. The carpeted hall silenced her footsteps. As she approached, the music started soft, drifting down the hall. The tone changed, and passion filled the air, rising high and swirling in a storm of chaos and fear. Then it quieted down again, a feeling of sweet hope in each note. That could not be one of the kids; it sounded too professional even on the ancient piano. She froze in the doorway.

John sat, fingers on the worn keys, absorbed in the music he created. Locks of hair moved as his head dipped down then thrust back, eyes closed tight.

The composition compelled her to move toward him. Energy and worship filled the empty pews. The disappearing sun reached through the colored glass, highlighting the man at the piano in a wave of rich color.

It all came to a sudden crash when John slammed his fist on the white ivories and lowered his forehead to the top ledge of the piano. Heavy breaths rushed out of his lungs as if he had just finished a race.

“John?”

With a sharp jerk, he brought his face up, glaring at her.

“What are you doing here?” The harsh voice did not sound like the man she had come to know.

She took a step back. One thing she knew for a fact—men were unpredictable, especially if they felt threatened.

“I’m sorry.” She stepped back to make her exit. “I wanted you to know that Uncle Billy said we can use the cherry picker.” She started to turn but paused. An overwhelming longing made her tell him what she had just experienced. “You just played the most beautiful, compelling piece of music I have ever heard.”

“Thank you.” The words came from a still jaw. He looked back at the piano, his fingers casually running over the ivory keys and tickling little notes out of the old upright.

She swallowed.
Just leave, girl.
Instead, she heard herself speaking again. “Can I ask a question?”

Without looking up, he gave a half grin. “Sure.”

“Do you ever play in church? I’ve never heard you.”

He tilted his head back and combed his fingers through his hair, pushing the strands off his forehead. He shook his head.

Lorrie Ann moved closer, pausing at the base of the three steps leading to the platform. “I don’t understand. You play music like that, but you don’t share with your congregation?”

He sighed. “Nope.” He started playing with the keys again. “I was hired to preach, not make music.”

“Um...I think they’d be okay with it. Have you ever played in front of people?”

He laughed, closing the lid to the piano. John rested his elbows on the wood and intertwined his fingers. “A few thousand.”

“Really?” This man always surprised her. “I don’t know a great deal about the Christian-music industry, but I think you’re very marketable.” She crossed the stage and laid her hand on the top of the piano. She knew music, and his was incredible.

“It’s not what I want.”

She knew people in the business that would give anything for a sound like his. “I don’t understand. If you don’t want to market your music, the least you could do is share with your church. Isn’t there some verse about it being a sin when you waste a talent God gave you?”

“So, you’re going to come from L.A. and give me Bible lessons?” Anger edged his voice.

She took a step back and closed her eyes for a moment. “You’re right. I’m way out of line. Sorry I bothered you.” She turned sharply to leave, acid burning in her throat. She was so stupid.

“Lorrie Ann, wait, please.” John’s voice followed her.

Before she got to the last pew, the tips of John’s fingers touched her lower arm. She stopped but kept her back to him.

This man made her so weak. She didn’t know who she hated more—him or herself.

“You have every right to speak the truth.” His grip became a bit firmer as he silently urged her back to him. “We all need the truth. I’ve been hiding my music for five years now. Today, I couldn’t keep it buried.”

She focused on the tiny pattern weaved into the blue carpet under his boots. “I’m sorry I interrupted,” she whispered. “It’s not any of my business.”

“I’ve played to crowds of thousands. Tears running down their faces, hands raised high as they sang the words. All that attention can be a bit intoxicating.” John dropped his hand and stepped back, but his gaze never left her.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“The truth has been locked up with the music for too long.” He reached into his jacket and popped a Jolly Rancher into his mouth. “I didn’t see my girls unless Carol brought them to the youth building. Ironically, the music became a stumbling block in my relationship with God. It ruined my marriage.” He took a deep breath. “
I
ruined my marriage. I hurt Carol, who had given me nothing but love and support.”

“John...” She had no clue what to say.

Moving away from her, he sat on the nearest pew. “I was lost, but being wrapped in a Christian label, no one knew it...” He swallowed and bit down the raw emotion that boiled up in his brain. “Other than Carol.” He looked up to the cross. “When I saw her at the accident site, covered in the yellow sheet, I knew her death was my fault. My sin.”

“Oh, John.” She stepped closer, wrapping her warm fingers around the coldness of his hand. “It was an accident. You weren’t even in the car. You know it’s not your fault, right?”

He squeezed her hand. “In my head, yeah. But I also know I had pretended to be a man of God, while living for myself in complete and utter selfishness.” He turned her hand over, running the calloused pad of his thumb across her palm before letting go.

He twisted the finger on his left hand, playing with a wedding ring that he no longer wore. “Carol knew and had called me out.”

He looked back up and gave her a lopsided grin. “Like you just did. She was good at speaking the truth.”

The sorrow in his eyes pierced her soul. “I didn’t have the right to tell any—”

He shook his head, stopping her from finishing. “I’ve never told this to anyone. I’d missed our monthly date night. Again. So Carol left the girls with the babysitter and tracked me down in the music building.” He took a deep breath, and his jaw flexed. “There was no yelling or crying. She calmly informed me she’d prayed while waiting and decided to move back to Clear Water. When I got my priorities right, she’d be waiting for me. Then she left.” He sat up and ran his fingers through his mussed hair. “I went brain-dead.” He snorted and cut a look to her. “Know what my first thought was?”

Lorrie Ann shook her head and bit her teeth. She didn’t want to hear any more. “I can’t imagine.” Her right hand reached out and took hold of his.

“I panicked at how others would react. The negative image it would create for me.” He stood. “My wife was so hurt. She’d just left me, and all I cared about? How it would look to others.” He moved to the piano.

Lorrie Ann followed him. Her cracked heart completely shattered.

“I knew right then I hadn’t been living to God’s glory but my own. I rushed out to follow her, to tell her I’d been wrong. To fix the mess I’d made. But I came up to the accident.”

Her heart seized. “Oh, no, John. Don’t. It’s not your fault. Do you really believe God punished you by killing Carol?”

John stood before the stained-glass cross. His throat worked, trying to swallow. “No, but...” He walked back to the piano, running his hand along the top. “I blamed the music.” He gave her a sad grin that pulled at her heart. “I guess it’s my self-imposed punishment—no music and no love.”

She moved to stand with him. “John, that’s crazy. You managed to cut music from your life, but love? You’re the most loving man I know. I’ve seen you with your girls, the people of this town, even the dragon ladies. The love you have for God is in everything you do.” She smiled at him, wishing he could see the hope he had given her. “You seem to have an endless amount of love.”

He grunted. “
Love
is a loaded word. I
do
love my girls. I love the Lord, love my life here in this small country town.” He picked up a guitar and sat down on a stool. His fingers softly strummed the strings. “But a wife? I’ve destroyed one woman’s life because of my selfishness. My heart can’t risk it again. I can’t risk someone loving me like that again.”

Between his stark words and lonely chords, sadness covered her like a humid, sticky fog. This man deserved to be loved by someone who would share his burdens. That wasn’t her. “What made you play today?”

“In the hall, a friend ambushed me, wanting advice about his wife.” He paused. “No one knows Carol was leaving me. People talk about what a perfect couple we made.” He focused on the strings for a moment. “I don’t give marriage advice. It makes me feel a little hypocritical. I told him not to take love for granted.”

“Not long ago you told me it is our imperfection that enables God to use us to help others.” She sat on the piano bench, careful not to touch him but wanting to be close.

He shook his head, and a halfhearted grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “No fair. I turned to music when I lost my parents. Playing was my conversation with God. I could write about emotions and fears. They would pour through the instruments.”

“The music I heard earlier moved me. I felt God.”

“Actually, an old friend recently pointed out the selfishness of not sharing with my girls and the church.”

“He’s right. Rachel has the most amazing voice. Do you sing?”

He gave a slight nod, and she suspected his voice was as spectacular as his playing.

She continued, “Have you seen Celeste? She’s already learned some basic chords just from watching Kenny on the piano. You have to share your talent with them, John.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He focused on his hands for a moment and once again changed the tempo of the song.

She sat back and enjoyed the music, his music.

He whispered low, “Thank you. Carol had no problem setting me straight either. It can be difficult in Cold Water. Everybody knew her from the time she was born. I didn’t want them to know how I’d failed her.”

“You weren’t a bad husband, just a man, a very young one.” She felt a little jealous of Carol knowing this man’s love. How pathetic was that?

He snorted. “Thanks for that vote of confidence. Why do I get the feeling that’s not a compliment?”