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“No, I don’t. He wouldn’t want to come anyway. If he did, it’d just be out of pity or some twisted form of obligation.” Besides, she didn’t want the extra headache of Carter’s presence while trying to carry off the important evening. It was bad enough trying to choke down dinner knowing he was two hundred feet away. A lot was riding on the event’s success, and she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let an unsettling blast from her past rob the penguins of their new home.
That is, if she didn’t single-handedly determine their fate first by holding a gala with no band. She groaned inwardly.
“Well, you still have plenty of time to decide.” Lori set her jaw in that stubborn way of hers.
Gracie crossed her arms, mimicking Lori’s position. Fine, let her friend hope. It wouldn’t do any good, but at least it’d keep the peace for the next few days. Lori would figure it out eventually—when it came to Carter, no meant no. Gracie refused to acknowledge another option.
She was finished putting her hope in him.
“Just so you know, ‘It’s a Small World’ is playing in my head right now.” Andy grinned at Carter across the table at the Gumbo Shop. “Who would have thought the woman you’re so torn up about is none other than our Gracie Broussard?”
Carter glanced over his shoulder, even though he knew there was no way the women could hear them across the noisy restaurant. After Gracie’s obvious lack of interest in eating together, he and Andy gave the girls a head start and requested a table on the other side of the patio. Now the aroma of fresh garlic bread and Cajun cuisine tickled his nostrils, but the weight of seeing Gracie up close did permanent damage to his appetite. He set his fork in his nearly full bowl. “It is pretty weird that she goes to your church. Talk about a coincidence.”
“Maybe it’s more than that.” Andy sipped from his water glass, then squeezed another slice of lemon over the top. “I wouldn’t assume if I were you.”
“Point taken.” He pushed his bowl away.
“Too spicy?”
“Just not hungry.”
“Since when did a woman take away your appetite?”
Carter shrugged with a smile. “Since I grew a conscience.”
“Even guilty people need to eat.” Andy scooped a spoonful of rice onto his spoon.
“With all my regrets, if that wasn’t true I’d be a stick.” Man, he should have searched Gracie out over the past years. But what would he say? The proper apology or explanation still failed him. There just weren’t words adequate enough to express his stupidity, his immaturity—sure, he’d been a high school kid at the time, but no one deserved the treatment he’d given Gracie and his family. No one deserved the prank he played or the things he said that night on the pier—the last time they’d spoken before today. Even if there were reasons behind it that she still didn’t know.
Carter stirred his water glass with his straw. He thought he’d been protecting Gracie when he left. Hindsight, unfortunately, proved that hasty decision had backfired—and pounded the final nail in the coffin of their future.
“Everyone messes up.”
“But not everyone stabs their best friend in the back.” Just one of the many sins on his list. He’d had his chance with Gracie, and ruined it. There might never be full recovery from such a blow, but maybe he could stir up enough of their friendship to remind her of the good times, the times he didn’t make her cry—if she’d let him.
“Gracie’s got a good heart.” Andy wadded his straw wrapper. “I’d give her the benefit of the doubt before you write off any chance of fixing things between you.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Carter stared into the dark rue of his dinner, memories teasing the ripples in the broth. They’d been a good team, once upon a time. For instance, Gracie loved Oreos, but hated the cream filling. So they’d sit on the tall barstools at the counter in his mom’s kitchen and he’d eat the filling while she dunked the plain cookies in milk. Then there were the days spent riding tubes on the lake, camping with his family, and fishing off the pier. They rarely fought as kids, but when they did, Gracie would win from the sheer logic of her arguments. Carter learned early on that keeping up wasn’t worth the effort.
But her stubbornness could go both ways. Gracie was the only girl he knew who didn’t mind baiting her own hook—she’d even beaten him in a youth fishing tournament in sixth grade. The girl could accomplish anything she made up her mind to do, including shutting him out now.
“Did you know she was planning on naming the exhibit after my father?”
“No, she never mentioned that part, but then she didn’t know I knew you. There’s no use dwelling on the past, man. You’re a different person now.” Andy slurped the last of the gumbo from his spoon and leaned back from the table. “You know that, right?”
“Most days I believe it.” Carter started to look over his shoulder again but forced himself to face forward. No more looking back, wasn’t that what Andy was trying to tell him?
“But not today?”
Carter shook his head.
Andy sighed. “I’ll get you a carryout box.”
“You know, it doesn’t matter at this point if Carter comes to the gala or not. There won’t be much of one without any entertainment.” Gracie forced herself to pick her feet up from the floor instead of shuffle. She was trying hard not to have an Eeyore moment—as her mom always used to say when she started a pity party—but it was hard.
“Don’t worry, Gracie. Something will work out.” Lori shifted her Bible to her other hand and looped her free arm around Gracie’s shoulders. “I still think your idea of asking Andy to get the youth group involved was a great one.”
“Guess we’ll find out in a little while.” Gracie walked with Lori through the church office corridor toward the kitchen in the gymnasium. She needed caffeine—no, she needed money—and maybe a massage for the tense muscles in her neck and shoulders. So far she had a low advertising budget, a nonexistent decorating budget and no band. She hated to ask what else could go wrong, but really—what else could go wrong?
Lori dropped her Bible and notebook on the counter in the empty gymnasium and turned on the overhead lights. “The kids should be here any minute. You want a root beer? Or Diet Coke?” She moved toward the fridge.
“Diet Coke.” Gracie sank into one of the folding chairs near the counter and laid her Bible on top of Lori’s. She stared at the creased cover. God had always come through for her before—this time shouldn’t be any different. Still, an urgency pressed on her heart. Or maybe it was dread.
Lori shut the fridge door with her hip and slid Gracie’s soda across the counter to her. “Think positively. It shouldn’t be too hard to find another band.”
“A band for what?” Tawny Sinclair, a fellow youth group volunteer, breezed into the gym and headed for the refrigerator, her long brown hair streaming down her back in loose waves. “Any Diet Cokes left?”
“Two.” Lori rested her elbows on the counter in front of Gracie. “We were talking about the situation Gracie mentioned during Bible study earlier tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, the penguin thing?” Tawny flipped her bangs out of her eyes and brought her drink to the counter. “What about it, again?”
Gracie couldn’t help but notice Tawny’s low-cut sweater and hip-hugger jeans, not exactly church attire. Gracie sipped from her Diet Coke and studied the girl over the rim of the can, trying not to judge. Tawny had shown up for Bible study, and that was what really mattered. The rest would come in time.
Though apparently she hadn’t listened all that hard to what was said during group prayer.
“Yes, the penguin thing. Gracie needs a musician for her gala, ASAP.” Lori turned up her root beer, then wiped her mouth with her hand. “Not to mention some cash for the rest of the budget.”
“It’ll work out.” Tawny flicked her fingers in the air, dismissing the topic. “So anyway, did you see that new shoe store that opened on the riverfront? Totally adorable.”
Lori’s face lit. “I did, but haven’t been inside yet. Are they expensive?”
“Not for me.” Tawny opened her drink can with the aid of one manicured red fingernail and smirked.
Lori narrowed her eyes.
“Tawny, what did you think of the women’s class tonight?” Gracie interrupted before whatever thoughts Lori processed could escape. She sent her friend a be nice look. Tawny was still new to the singles group at the church—she seemed to honestly not realize how she came across to others at times, which was another reason why Gracie tried to befriend the girl. Everyone else seemed content to just gossip about her wardrobe choices and flirty behavior.
“It was okay, I guess.” She wrinkled her nose.
“I’m glad you came. It’s good to see you getting involved, I know that’s never easy in a new church.”
“Right. Thanks.” Tawny tucked her leopard print purse out of sight under the row of cabinets. “I guess we better get the snacks set out for the youth, huh?”
“They’d find them even if we hid them.” Lori washed her hands at the sink, then pulled a bulk package of cream-filled cookies from under the counter and began lining them on a tray. “They’re like junk-food magnets. Or vacuum cleaners.”
Gracie set out the paper cups and two-liters of various sodas. “I saw you helping them clean up last week.” She snorted. “If they were vacuums, you were an industrial-strength machine.”
“Whatever.” Lori tossed a broken cookie at Gracie, who caught it just as the gymnasium doors opened with a bang. Several of the youth hustled inside, laughing and shoving each other. Andy followed close behind, Carter on his heels toting a black guitar case.
The cookie slipped from Gracie’s fingers and crumbled on the counter. With all her worries about the gala budget, she’d forgotten about Carter’s performance tonight. But there was no putting it out of her mind anymore—there he was, dressed in worn jeans with shredded knees and a black button-down shirt. His usually rumpled, curly hair was gelled, and he’d shaved yesterday’s dark stubble from his cheeks.
“Breathe,” Lori mumbled, nudging Gracie with her hip as she stowed the cookie bag in the cabinet. She waved and smiled at Andy and Carter, who were moving toward the makeshift stage set up near the front of the gym.
Gracie straightened her shoulders and turned away from the men. “Where are the napkins?” She could do this. She’d just stay busy in the kitchen during Carter’s performance, then focus her attention after the show on the youth and on talking to Andy about fund-raising. No problem.
“Right here.” Tawny spun around from ripping open a bag of chips and handed over the pile of napkins.
Gracie took them from her outstretched hand, then realized Tawny’s gaze had locked on something over her shoulder. She turned to see Carter pulling his guitar from his case and strumming his pick over the strings. The soft melody echoed across the gym, carrying with it a sudden wave of memories.
Tawny’s breath caught and a slow, cat-like grin eased over her features. “Who’s the new guy?”
Chapter Four
Carter wiped a damp palm down the leg of his favorite jeans and reached to adjust his guitar strap. He just fixed it minutes ago, and it hadn’t so much as inched along his shoulder, but he had to do something with his hands while Andy introduced him.
He risked a peek at the rows of teenagers sitting in folding chairs, arranged in front of the makeshift stage composed of wooden boards and a few screws. The amp and speakers were wired up, thanks to the church’s tech guy, and they lined the edges of the gymnasium’s platform exactly as he requested for optimal sound.
Gracie hadn’t joined the crowd on the floor. She was avoiding him, it was evident in her tense shoulders and averted eyes—and the way she kept rearranging what looked to be a perfectly suitable display of snacks. Lori and another brunette had taken seats toward the middle of the rows of teenagers, probably prepared to do crowd control if they grew rowdy. An empty seat remained on Lori’s right. Would Gracie join them later? Carter could only hope.
He flipped his favorite guitar pick between his fingers as he waited for Andy to finish making announcements, but before he could stop it, his traitorous gaze flitted back to Gracie. She was wiping crumbs off the counter into her hand. Crumbs? They hadn’t even eaten yet. Come on, Gracie, give me a chance here. His heartbeat quickened and he sent a quick prayer heavenward for strength. He had to show Gracie who he’d become—or she’d never forgive him.
Andy’s voice booming across the gym jerked Carter back to reality.
“So be sure to look for the Six Flags sign-up sheet on the bulletin board in the office. And now, a man who really needs no further introduction, Mr. Carter Alexander!” Andy turned toward Carter and began to applaud. A few of the teens, mostly girls, jumped to their feet and clapped wildly.
Carter forced a smile to his face and thoughts of Gracie from his mind as he clamored up the stage and adjusted the stand to his level. “Hey, guys.” His voice echoed louder than he meant and he eased off the microphone an inch. “How are we doing tonight?”
A few of the kids yelled back, some jumping up and down, others standing. A few boys in the back sat with arms crossed and scowls tattooed across their faces. Tough crowd. Carter fought another round of nerves. So what if not everyone here loved him? He wasn’t here for his own fame anymore—thankfully, those days were long over.
“Play ‘Lucky Lady’!” A guy with dreads on the front row called above the din. He grinned around a lip piercing.
Carter strummed his pick over the guitar strings. “Lucky Lady” was one of Cajun Friday’s first big hits—unfortunately, the lyrics weren’t exactly appropriate for a church crowd. “Sorry, no can do. What about ‘Peace To You’?” Another Cajun Friday hit, but one Carter had tweaked after the band’s break-up to offer new inspirational meaning.
The crowd cheered. Carter felt his muscles relax as he began the first bars of the familiar tune.
When the night is long and the music fades,
When all hope is gone when I walk away,
I wish peace to you…peace to you…
A few of the girls in the middle of the audience began to sway, arms around each other’s shoulders. A lighter flicked on toward the back of the crowd, and Andy quickly moved to retrieve it, whispering in the boy’s ear before pocketing the evidence with a stern expression.
Carter fought a grin as he continued to sing. Soon the sensation of being back on stage enveloped him with its familiar, welcome presence, and the nervousness fled away. He loosened up after the first verse, rocking out the chorus.
Peace to you, when nothing else is true.
Peace to you, when your world is black and blue.
I wish peace to you, the kind I know by heart…
Can we ever just go back to start?
The lyrics thumped a sudden, painful reminder of Gracie. The music, think of the music—not the lyrics. His fingers slipped on the strings, and he struggled to regain his place.
The teenagers began to sing, picking up the chorus with him toward the end, and they remained standing even after the last note was played. He eased into a familiar worship chorus next, then as the last note filtered through the room, he motioned for them to have a seat.
“Listen, guys, I know some of you are probably wondering why I’m not playing the songs I used to play. I’m sure you realize I’m not a member of Cajun Friday anymore.”
A kid in the back booed, and Carter held up one hand. “I’d like to tell you why.”
The teenagers quieted down, shifting positions in their chairs. Some leaned forward, slight creases between their brows. The nerves bounced back with a vengeance, and Carter swallowed hard. It was one thing to play on stage for hundreds of screaming fans, another to talk to the impressionable youth about their lives. His hands grew clammy, and a hundred doubts flooded his mind. Was he cut out for this? Would they listen to anything he had to say?
At that moment, a slight figure slipped from the kitchen into the dim lighting around the rows of chairs and took the vacant seat between Lori and a young blonde.
Relief rushed through Carter’s stomach in a warm wave and he instantly felt stronger.
Gracie had come.
Gracie fought the shockwave of memory assaulting her senses at the sight of Carter beneath a row of stage lights, guitar in hand, and microphone close to his mouth. How many times had she seen him in that very environment and sat in the front row, praying God would open his eyes to his feelings for her? Carter had to know how she felt all those years, had to know the secret she’d hidden long before she found the guts to confess.
Why had she even come? She’d told herself she’d stay in the back and remain focused on the kids. But something drew her to the chairs, almost against her will. Besides, she ran out of things to rearrange in the kitchen and Andy had started shooting her curious looks.
“You okay?” Lori whispered from her left.
Haley, a high school freshman with long blond braids, leaned forward from Gracie’s other side and shushed them both. Her eyes were wide and she pointed toward the stage, as if shocked they would dare talk in the middle of such a performance.
“Sorry,” Lori whispered. Her eyes locked on Gracie’s and she raised her eyebrows, silently repeating her question.
I’m fine, Gracie mouthed. Lori’s eyes narrowed, but she shifted back in her chair, apparently content to let it go for now.
Gracie faced forward and kept her eyes focused on Carter’s guitar—not his face. She really should pay attention in case any of the teens wanted to talk after the concert. She wouldn’t be much of a role model if they asked questions and she had to admit she hadn’t been listening.
“The decision to quit the band didn’t come easily. I fought what I felt I was supposed to do for weeks. But one night on stage, staring out into the foggy sea of smoking, drinking fans, I just froze. I couldn’t make myself play.” Carter grinned and rubbed his hand over his head. “It’s like all those prayers my mama prayed finally caught up to me.”
The kids snickered and Andy let out a hearty amen from the side of the gymnasium.
“I realized my musical career had become the most important thing in my life, and, well, God doesn’t appreciate idols.” He released a slow breath. “I took a gift the Lord gave me and twisted it into something that dishonored Him.” The crowd hushed and Carter shook his head, staring down at the guitar draped across his torso.
A lump stuck in Gracie’s throat and tears welled in her eyes. She crossed one leg over the other, and the squeak of her chair drew her away from the intensity of the moment. She stared at the stage lights, determined not to cry. Not over him—not again.
“I’m here tonight to encourage you not to make the same mistakes—and not just in music, but with any talent you’ve been given.” A shock of curly dark hair fell over Carter’s forehead and he shook it back with one quick motion, just as he used to do as a teenager. “Don’t abuse the gifts. It’s not worth it.”
Gracie gritted her teeth at the irony all but slapping her across the face. To Carter, music always equaled a freedom of expression and rebellion. Yet now he stood on stage, telling kids not to do the same? It was the same concept of any “been there, done that” testimony, but still hard to swallow.
The inspiration that touched her soul moments ago faded into regret and she ducked her head as Carter led the group in a prayer. She pressed her fingers to her eyes, fighting back tears of betrayal and denial—betrayal of what Carter had done to their friendship, and denial of the emotions still churning beneath the choppy surface of her anger.
The prayer ended without Gracie hearing a word, and she stood woodenly with the others as Carter closed with a rendition of a popular praise song. Andy took the microphone when he was through and thanked him for coming, then announced that snacks and sodas would be handed out in the back of the gym.
