Love Inspired November 2014 #2 (12 page)

Chapter Twelve

W
ell, who would have guessed it?

Jesse stood on the stage of Gordon Falls Community Church's meeting hall, hand on the microphone, about to open the church's talent show as its guest emcee and baffled by the open welcome in all the faces he could see. He'd thought of himself as an intruder—an impostor up here on the stage, where someone well-known in the church should have been. No one else seemed to see it that way. Everyone had been nothing but warm and friendly.

“Good evening and welcome to tonight's Taste of Talent. If you haven't filled your plate from the dessert table at the back of the room, you don't know what you're missing. And hey, if any of you find yourselves overcome with the urge to bring me some of that raspberry cheesecake, by all means don't hold back.” He couldn't help himself from directing that last remark right at Charlotte.

Instead of feeling awkward, the past half hour of setup had been surprisingly fun. What he'd told Charlotte was true; he'd never had anything against going to the church. So many of his friends already did. It was just that he dreaded the hurdle of that first visit. By happenstance—or design—this gig handed him the perfect opening. “We're going to start things out tonight with a touch of class, and a lot of brass. Let's listen to the Senior High bell quartet.”

He looked out over the sea of friendly faces from his stool at stage left, seeing proud, smiling parents among them. Honestly, even here he felt like a bit of a celebrity—and he was a man given to enjoying attention. “Aren't they talented?” he asked the audience, as the quartet cleared their many bells from the stage. “There's more where that came from. This is one talented congregation, I'm telling you. Here's what's up next...”

And so the evening progressed, act by surprising act. Jesse's initial comments about the flood of talent were just to be nice at first, playing to the audience. Eventually, they gave way to genuine astonishment, soundly trouncing Jesse's preconceptions of hokey church festivities. Max Jones, Charlotte's cousin and no stranger to the firehouse through his sister, JJ, did a hysterical lip-synch of an Elvis tune with the high school boy he'd been mentoring for almost a year, Simon Williams. “Talk about true rocking and rolling,” Jesse cracked as the pair—who both used wheelchairs—popped a dual pair of wheelies and spins as they moved offstage. Jesse felt a warm glow as he watched Simon's dad, Brian, also a firefighter, give his son a standing ovation. The kid had come a long way, and he knew that Brian credited the support of this church as much as the partnership Simon had with Max. Jesse and Max—and a few of the other younger firefighters—had made a few mistakes in their efforts to help Simon, but everyone had learned their lesson, and even Simon's mom had given Jesse a warm welcome.

And where had Fire Marshal Chad Owens hidden his surprising juggling talents? He was normally a laid-back guy, but the audience hung their mouths open when he proved a pretty talented trickster. Those open mouths served them well, for Chad's finale was to juggle a dozen of his wife, Jeannie's, beloved chocolate caramels, tossing them into the audience as his final trick. Jesse would have eaten a handful if the sticky confections wouldn't have rendered him speechless for five minutes at least. He stuck with one, making a big show of chewing with the appropriate
mmm
s. “Well now,” he managed, still sounding as if he had a mouthful, “guess they really meant it when they called this Taste of Talent.”

There were other acts—some silly, some heartwarming. Even the regrettable ones—someone needed to tell Nick Owens an eleven-minute drum solo was hard on the ears—brought a smile and a hearty round of applause from the audience. The trio of curly-blond-haired girls who couldn't have been more than five didn't do much more than sway and spin in their frilly pink tutus, but no one cared. Instead, everyone cheered and snapped photos like paparazzi when the ballerinas took their bows, bursting into louder applause, mixed with laughter, when one little girl rushed over and hugged Jesse's leg, leading him to take her hand and twirl her like a ballroom dancer as she left the stage.

Every time Jesse thought the evening couldn't get more enjoyable, some new moment would capture his heart. He was having such a terrific time, Jesse decided he'd have to eat his words and thank Charlotte for pulling him in to the event. Charlotte must have been thinking the same thing, for every time he caught her eyes, her smile broadcast “See, I told you this would be fun.”

What really brought the house down, however, was one of the final acts. Jesse knew JJ's husband, Alex, played the ukulele and was known for his campy musical sense. As such, it wasn't a big stunner when he took the stage and began strumming “By the Light of the Silvery Moon.” What no one saw coming was when Violet Sharpton and Karl Kennedy—of Karl's Koffee fame—sashayed onstage and broke into a snappy duet. No one knew either of them could sing, but they were fabulous. When they added an adorable half-limped, cane-assisted little soft-shoe dance on the final verse, Karl yelping, “Slow down, son, I can't hoof it that fast with my bad hip,” to a guffawing Alex, the crowd spared no effort to urge them on. They got a standing ovation, and deserved one. Jesse himself was smiling and laughing so hard he could barely take the microphone as the curtain behind him closed.

“I don't know how we're going to follow that act, folks,” Jesse proclaimed, wiping his eyes. He hid his satisfaction at the frantic scrambling behind him from the other side of the curtain. “Oh, no, wait,” he said in mock surprise. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Drums behind him hit the
ba-dump-ching
that was the standard musical punctuation for bad jokes, and Jesse knew his own surprise was nearly ready. He'd successfully managed to keep his contribution a secret. If a church was going to ask him to emcee a talent show, they'd better be prepared for what they got.

A hidden set of drums began a steady beat behind him. “Ladies and gentlemen, presenting for the first time ever on this or any stage, for your listening enjoyment...” A base guitar joined in with a bluesy swagger. “I give you...Jesse Sykes and the Red Suspenders!”

The curtain parted to reveal a band composed entirely of hidden talents from the Gordon Falls Volunteer Fire Department, decked out in black shirts and those cheesy red plastic fire helmets Wally's sister had found at the local party store. And, of course, red suspenders. The applause and laughter from the audience was enough to fuel Jesse's gloat for a month.

It had started out as a joke, a wisecrack from Yorky when they found out Jesse had been cornered into serving as the evening's master of ceremonies. A “wouldn't it be funny if...” that took on more and more momentum until the idea seemed too good to pass up. When Wally shared that he played the drums and Tom Matthews offered to fish his bass guitar out of the attic, the Red Suspenders were born. Jesse reached behind him, knowing Tom held out his next props. As the lead guitar riff began, the hoots of encouragement and surprise doubled. When Jesse donned the red hat and a pair of sunglasses, the crowd went wild. Chief Bradens was laughing so hard he was alternating between wiping his eyes and hiding them.

Going to great lengths to rehearse in secret, the guys had worked out a squeaky-clean, church-worthy four-song list that dipped into gospel, soul and just enough rock to enthrall the youth group. By the second song, the audience was clapping along. By the third song, they were on their feet. When the bass guitar and drums kicked into the familiar introduction to “Stand by Me,” Jesse was pretty sure he saw Charlotte go pink. This was going to be fun.

* * *

Charlotte watched Jesse up there on that stage and felt her heart run off against her wishes. She didn't want to be falling for this boisterous, all-too-charming fireman, but there didn't seem to be much she could do to stop it. Melba sat next to her and would catch her eye after this remark or that heart-slaying grin, and she tried to feel neutral about the guy. Clearly Melba could see she was failing. Of course, Melba had no qualms about pairing off with a man from the fire department, even if she was kind about Charlotte's resistance.

Charlotte had gone so far as to talk to Clark about it. Clark had grown up in a firefighting family—the son of the former chief—and he had freely shared that things had been hard on his mom. He told her he understood her hesitation and respected it. “I remember how much my mom had to endure,” he said. “I understand why you'd choose to avoid it. I'll say this, though. If the right guy comes around and happens to wear a uniform, I think you'll find a way to handle it.”

Charlotte was terrified the right guy was standing right in front of her. She shut her eyes for a moment, even as she felt Jesse's presence from the distance across the room. Jesse was dead wrong about a crowded room making being with him any safer.
Lord, You know the effect that man has on me. If this isn't where I should be heading, I'm going to need an escape. I'm losing perspective.

Melba leaned over and whispered in Charlotte's ear, “He keeps looking right at you, doesn't he? I mean, it sure looks like it.”

That was not helpful. Charlotte had spent the past twenty minutes trying to tell herself the sensation of Jesse singling her out in the crowd was just an emotional illusion. The trick of a good entertainer—an
amazing
entertainer, really, Charlotte admitted to herself as she watched him sing on the stage, backed up by the rest of the Red Suspenders. The combination of silly plastic fire hat and bad-boy black sunglasses was downright irresistible.

As the band began the introduction from what Charlotte knew had to be “Stand by Me,” Jesse took off his sunglasses and made a show of peering into the crowd. Charlotte told herself to slump down in her chair, useless as that tactic might be. Her breath—which had momentarily stopped—let out when Jesse called, “Maria? Maria Bradens? Where are you, darlin'? I know you like this one.”

Oh, please let him just play this to Maria. Don't let him realize what his voice singing this does to me.

“Home with the sitter!” Clark called back, laughing.

That was right. Maria wasn't even in the building. With a pulse that ricocheted between fear and thrill, Charlotte watched as Jesse unhitched the cordless microphone from its stand. He stared straight at Charlotte, those high-voltage eyes at full force. “Well now, I'll need someone else. Another fine young lady who might be partial to this song.” His voice was silken, all confidence and charisma as he stepped down off the stage and began walking right toward her. “Any takers?”

Charlotte felt as if her cheeks were as red as his hat. She tried to hide her face behind her hands but Melba pulled them down. As the fireman behind the keyboard launched into the song, Jesse passed his hat to Clark, pulled Charlotte to her feet and began to sing the lyrics, about not being afraid even when the night was dark. It was as if he sang directly to every fear and every worry. His voice seemed to find every bit of resistance she was trying to hang on to, every memory of her mother alone and staring at the unused place setting on their kitchen table. He was pulling all the stops out, pulling her under in the process.

When he turned back toward the stage, Charlotte practically fell into the chair. She'd forgotten how to think. She'd forgotten how to breathe. When he pitched his voice up into a soulful wail for the second verse, showing a level of talent she'd never expected—nor had anyone else, from the level of applause that was roaring up from the audience—she'd have followed him anywhere.

And that, right there, was the problem.
He is irresistible.

What he did next hit Charlotte as clearly as if someone had tossed a glass of water in her face. Two rows down, Jesse found the high school French teacher and began singing to her. The woman looked exactly as Charlotte had felt when she'd been in that position: dazzled. Jesse asked her how to say “Stand by Me” in French and began singing the chorus in French, even getting her to sing with him.

Was his attention—the attention that, a moment ago she thought was just for her—an act? She watched the woman lay her hand on her chest and sigh, realizing she'd done the exact same thing herself. When he picked a third woman out of the audience and charmed her just as effectively, a foolish, hollow feeling crept up Charlotte's chest. She had no idea if Jesse was genuine in his attention to her, genuine in his attention to each woman he'd singled out of the audience, or simply applying his talents at showmanship.

Either way, it drove home a point she'd managed to miss—or chose to miss. Hadn't Jesse made it clear after that kiss back at the cottage that he felt no pressure for them to be serious? She'd been too dazed then to recognize what he was really saying—just as she was barely clearheaded enough now to realize the truth.

He wasn't ready to
offer
her anything serious.

Jesse, who displayed so much of his charm but hid so much of his nature, who gave away his talents but locked up his dreams, who was as impressed by her drive as he was bewildered by it, didn't know how to truly, deeply commit. Not to God, not to a woman, not to his business plans that never seemed to get off the ground—not even to just one woman when it came to dedicating a special song.

Worse yet, part of her didn't even care. Even in the face of all her reservations, he enthralled her as he caught her eyes one last time before he stepped back up onto the stage. Despite everything she just saw, her breath caught as it felt as though he was singing just to her.

Charlotte was defenseless. The past few minutes had startled her into the awareness that she would fall for him far too easily—and get her heart broken when he stopped short of returning that love. On her good days, her resistance might stand up for a while. On a bad day, she'd give in instantly. Hadn't his kiss in her kitchen proved that? Her attraction to Jesse overrode her good sense even when she tried to stop it. With a gulp she realized that if he had tried to kiss her right in the middle of that song, with his eyes pulling her in like that, she very well might have let him, and returned it with the same intensity if not more. In front of everyone. Despite all the reasons she knew she didn't want to get involved with him. Because she
wanted
to get involved with him. She hadn't stopped thinking about him. She'd always imagined herself falling that hard for the perfect guy—and Jesse Sykes was not the perfect guy. He was a great guy, an amazing guy, but he was not the right guy for her.