Saving Grace (Madison Falls) (27 page)

His face slid into a mischievous grin as his hand stilled the strings. “It’s a song of praise. I’m writing it for Him.” He pointed upward.

She pulled her eyes away with a measured blink. “Oh. Of course.” Her face warmed. “You’re really into this God thing, aren’t you? I mean, the lyrics are so passionate.” Setting her sweatshirt down on the stage, she reached for the paper with a
may-I?
look.

He tipped his head in consent. “It’s worship music. That’s my thing.” Lowering his foot, he lifted his guitar case from behind the piano and set it on the stage.

She studied the page, noting how easily this could be misconstrued as an ode to a woman. She’d never really paid attention to the lyrics of the hymns she’d sung in choir beyond the basics of proper phrasing. “It’s very soulful.”

“That’s a nice thing to say.” He placed the instrument in the case.

She flipped over the paper and saw that he’d utilized the back of a flyer for his notes. “
Heritage Songwriting Competition
.” Her eyes lifted. “So you’re a songwriter?”

He took the flyer, a sad smile crossing his face. “Yeah, in my dreams.” He put the paper on top of his guitar and closed the case.

Confused, she tipped her head, coaxing him to meet her gaze. “But you’re really good. Are you entering the competition?”

He clicked the case shut. “I thought about it.” His face grew suddenly somber. “It takes a lot more than talent to make it as a singer.” He held a beat, finally looking at her. “But I’m assuming you already know that.”

Alarm jolted through her. “Why would you assume that?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “I heard you in church, remember? Obviously you’re no stranger to performing. You don’t develop a voice like yours just singing in the shower.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle, pressing back her nerves. “So I sing a little. That doesn’t make me a singer.”

“Maybe not. But with a gift like that, it’s a shame to just bring it out once a week at church.”

His eyes bored into her like he was seeing her for who she really was. For a split second, she wanted to tell him, but caught herself.

“But, why not at least enter the competition? You never know.”

“Look, I’m just a small town guy who writes music for fun.” He waved his hand past his cheek. “I don’t want to talk about me.” Suddenly, he had her gaze. “Can I ask you a question?”

She braced herself. Was he about to confront her about the appraisal? “Go ahead.”

“The other day at your house…” His words were slow, considered. “Why did you get so upset?”

Her jaw clenched. She didn’t want to talk about this again. “You startled me.”

“I get that, but you freaked before you knew I was there. You weren’t reacting to me. You were reacting to a few of drops of blood.”

How could she answer that? She contemplated. “It’s just that…I had something really bad happen to me a few years back.” She reined in her words. “And I’m still paying for it.”

“Oh.” Concern welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“My life has been such a struggle.” A slow breath steadied her nerves. “I just want it to be easy like it used to be.” She perched on the rim of the stage, surprised at her ease with him.

“Life is supposed to be hard.” He sat, keeping his guitar case between them. “God made it that way to build our character for eternity.”

She looked up, puzzled. “If that’s true, I must have enough character for six eternities.”

He chuckled. “I know what you mean.” He searched the dark expanse of the empty house as if a new subject might appear in the rafters. “I’m sure going to miss this old place.”

She jolted. “What?”

He looked at her with questioning eyes. “You know. When they tear it down.”

“But…” Her tongue felt like it had been tied in a knot. “This show is going to be really good.”

“I know that—”

“And this theatre means so much to the town. Don’t you think you could convince your dad to reconsider?”

“Grace, nothing has changed.” He stiffened his shoulders. “It’s not about how good the show is. It’s not about the theatre or the community.”

“Then what
is
it about?”

“It’s about the
money
.” His face turned hard. “I’m sorry Grace, but that’s the bottom line.” He stood, picking up his guitar case with an end-of-conversation finality.

Stunned, she rose to her feet. “So I guess that makes you a hypocrite.”

He lobbed her a look that said he was ready to accept her challenge. “Meaning?”

She fired back a glare. “It’s just that you talk big about this God thing, but doesn’t the Bible call money ‘the root of all evil’?”

Anger rose in his face. “It says ‘the
love
of money’. That’s what God has a problem with. When people put money before Him.”

“But aren’t you doing exactly that, putting the money first? I mean, you could sell to someone who understands how to run a theatre, even if it meant less money for you. At least you could feel good about the deal.”

Emotion pooled in his eyes as he leaned his case against the stage. “I admit that the moral part of this whole thing has me on edge.”

She spurted out a terse laugh. “The ‘moral’ part? You don’t seem to be letting that get in the way of your
other
business.”

His forehead creased. “You’ve got a moral issue with hardware?”

Indignation swelled in her throat. “Yeah,
that’s
what I’m talking about.” Though her gut warned her to stop, the dam had already burst. “I
saw
you, Sam. I know what you’ve been doing.”

His mouth formed a question that remained unvoiced as she pinned him with an accusatory stare. She knew about it all—the abuse, the woman on the side—but now was the time to hit him where it would really hurt. “Everybody needs money, but there are limits to what a person should do. What could you be thinking?”

His look of confusion grew. “Well, right now I’m thinking ‘Huh?’”

She folded her arms. How could he play dumb? “I saw you at Carson’s house…or
shack
…or whatever you want to call it.”

He looked around as if trying to make sense of her words. “How could you have seen me? It’s clear out on the old highway.”

“On the way to the falls. I have eyes.” She pointed to them for effect.

He shrugged his brow. “Okay, so you saw me.”

“And since Lucy had told me about Carson—”

“She did?”

“And about her
friend
who’s going into ‘business’ with that creep.”

“
Her
friend…” His look registered realization. “You thought she meant
me?
”

She ignored his feigned innocence. “I know you need money. Everybody does. But there are limits to what a person should be willing to do.”

“Grace…” He chuckled, fueling her anger.

“This isn’t funny, Sam.”

“You’re right, it isn’t.” He curbed his amusement. “What Carson does is evil. He has to be stopped.”

Chapter 35

It took all of Grace’s resolve not to slap Sam. He knew Carson was evil, yet he’d been doing business with him.

She frowned. “Then why—”

“When you saw me at his place, I was talking to him about my buddy Caleb.”

“Oh.” She paused to process. “Who’s he?”

“My best friend since we were kids.” His voice softened. “He’s been going down the wrong road lately. I’ve been doing my best to bring him back.”

“You mean, you’re not—”

“Dealing drugs?” He said the words as if the suggestion was ridiculous. “Absolutely not. Lucy was talking about Caleb.”

“Oh…”

“Forgive me for laughing, but…drugs…me? I don’t even drink.”

She plunked a fist on her hip. “Oh, come on. I saw you stumbling out of the town bar with my own eyes.”

He laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“You think I’m lying?”

“I’m not saying you’re lying. I just think you’re mistaken.”

She had him now. “It was as plain as day. I saw a woman run out onto the sidewalk, then you stumbled after her and grabbed her. You were yelling at her too. Explain that, Mother Teresa.”

Comprehension covered his face. “I know exactly what you’re talking about, because I remember seeing you watching us. That was the night Caleb didn’t come home and we went out looking for him. Jill was certain that he was off somewhere with Carson, and she wanted to find him. I had to convince her to go back home and let me deal with it.”

“That’s why you grabbed her like that, to stop her?” Righteous anger eased out of her argument like air from a pricked balloon. “So, did you find Caleb?”

“Did I ever.” His face pinched, as if the memory was painful. “Remember that shiner I had awhile back?”

“Carson hit you?”

“Not Carson. Caleb. He punched me right in the face. I got him to go home, though.”

“Your best friend hit you? What did you do?”

He raised a shoulder. “Anger doesn’t solve anything.”

“No…” Determined to justify her diminishing outrage, she flipped through her mental file labeled ‘Sam’s indiscretions’. Her eyebrows shot up. “What about that day you were on your cell phone in my backyard?”

“You mean that day I yelled at Caleb to get his act together? You’re right—I kind of lost my temper that day. Sometimes he just doesn’t hear me unless I yell at him. Sorry about that.”

“It’s…it’s okay. I didn’t realize the situation.”

He closed his eyes, a slow smile glazing his mouth. “You know, it all makes sense now.”

“What does?”

“Why you’ve been so cold to me.”

Chagrin rattled her to her core. He was right. “I thought you were being selfish and greedy.”

Anticipation twinkled in his eyes. “So has your opinion of me changed, now that you know the truth?”

She studied him. “No. I still think you’re selfish.”

His eyes turned narrow. “How so?”

Did the guy really want an inventory of his shortcomings? She clasped her lower arms in front of her. “For starters, I still think it’s greedy to sell out to Langley.”

“Grace—”

“I mean you said yourself that there’s a moral issue—”

“Yes, and—”

“You’re just thinking about yourself.”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Then who
is
it about?”

“It’s about my dad.” The shift in his tone was abrupt. “He has cancer.”

Silence settled as her face froze in a stare.
Cancer.
Emotion welled in her throat.

Sam’s voice lowered and he dodged her gaze. “He, um…he doesn’t want people to know. He’s sure that chemo would kill him and he doesn’t want anybody to try to talk him into it.”

A subtle shock consumed her. She lowered herself onto the stage edge, remembering how awful chemo had been for her own dad. Her mother had relayed every painful detail. He had suffered so much and hadn’t survived long after. “What’s he going to do?” Her voice felt frail.

He eased down next to her. “There’s this clinic in Germany. It’s unconventional, but their track record with his type of bone cancer is phenomenal.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“Well yeah, but the cost isn’t. Then there’s the follow-up.”

Her brain felt rattled. “He doesn’t have insurance?”

“For what it’s worth. Insurance won’t touch alternative treatments like this.”

Her heart ached. The pieces of the puzzle were all falling into place, and the picture they formed wasn’t pretty. “So, those smaller offers for the theatre wouldn’t be enough?”

“Not by a long shot. Lucy and Bob and Nancy and I prayed for months, and then Langley’s offer came from out of nowhere. I’ve been asking God for confirmation that this is the right thing to do.”

He looked up and caught her studying him. Her stomach knotted, but when his eyes didn’t waver, her own gaze stayed strong. Her defenses abandoned her. She wanted to open up to him, to tell him she knew exactly what he was going through. She knew because she’d been through it too.

She gravitated toward him, giving in to the magnetism of his rich mocha eyes. He leaned in as well, his countenance seeming hopeful. For a moment, everything else faded to black. All that existed in the world was Grace, Sam, and the gradually diminishing space between them.

Just as their lips were about to meet, a noise jerked them apart. They both looked toward the audience, but there was nothing there—just darkness covering empty seats, and the dim outline of the exit. They looked at each other in confirmation that the sound had been the dull thud of the door shutting.

“Must be Nancy.” Sam’s tone held more curiosity than concern.

Grace bit her lower lip. He was probably right. Who else would still have reason to be there?

They sat for a moment, not looking at each other, but letting the reality of what had passed between them simmer. What was she doing? Sam was involved with someone else, and that just wasn’t right.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “I know you think it’s a mistake.”

A mistake?
She drew in a sobering breath. Did
he
think it was a mistake? “Sam—”

“Please just listen.” His look beseeched understanding. “My dad deserves a chance.”

His dad?
Grace could practically hear her mental gears shifting. Of course.
That
mistake.

An edge of desperation crept into his voice. “I just don’t see any other way.”

Her mind raced. There
was
another way. She was the one who’d been selfish. An image of her own dad the last time she saw him took center stage in her head. What she wouldn’t have given for the chance to help him. She looked into Sam’s eyes and firmed her resolve.

“Sam.” She touched his bicep. “I have to tell you something.”

A glimmer of expectation twinkled as he looked at her. “What is it?”

She let out a long breath. “I think I know of a way that—”

The door at the back of the house whooshed open and Devon’s prominent form appeared backlit by the muted light. Tension thickened the air like smoke as Grace let her hand slip from Sam’s arm.

“Grace.” Devon’s voice was firm but strained. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen
Sophia
.”