Читать книгу Return To Love - Betsy St. Amant - Страница 13

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.

The teenagers cheered and jockeyed to be first in line at the counter by the back doors. Gracie followed, hoping Carter wouldn’t see her. She couldn’t talk to him, not with annoying tears still clinging to her eyelashes. She made a beeline for Lori.

“Gracie, wait up!” Carter’s unmistakable voice echoed across the gymnasium floor and she slowed her clipped stride. There was no denying she heard him, the entire gym probably had. She drew a deep breath and turned, fists clenched, ready to fake it until she could pour a few cups of soda and get out of there.

“I’m so glad you were here.” Carter was out of breath as he jogged the remaining steps to Gracie’s side. He grinned, that lopsided smile that used to always buckle her knees.

Tonight, however, her legs remained firmly locked in placed. “No problem, Carter. You did great. I was just about to go serve the food.” She kept her voice tense, her shoulders stiff.

“Let me help you.”

“No really, it’s—”

“Carter!” A breathless female voice sounded from behind.

Gracie turned with relief. Tawny. Now she could make her escape.

Carter eased back a step as Tawny bounced to his side and possessively took his arm in hers, shutting Gracie out with a flip of her ponytail. She ducked at the last second.

“You were fantastic.” Tawny batted her eyelashes. “I hope you’re doing an encore.”

“Actually, no.” Carter tugged his arm free. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“I’m Tawny Sinclair.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“I’m an old fan.” She giggled. “But not that old.”

Gracie winced at the shrillness of Tawny’s laugh. “I’m going to pour drinks. See you around, Carter.”

“Gracie, wait—”

“So, you’re the Carter Alexander.” Tawny’s bubbly voice interrupted as Gracie made her escape. “I couldn’t believe it when Gracie told me that was you. I must have somehow missed the announcement that you were coming.”

Gracie hurried out of earshot of Tawny’s exaggerated gushing. No doubt Carter was soaking it up. Of all the sacrifices he’d made, he probably missed the beautiful fan element of his career the most.

She stepped around two teen boys jostling for a slice of sausage pizza and joined Lori at the counter. She wouldn’t be another one of Carter’s groupies. She couldn’t compete with those women in high school, why try now? Nothing had changed.

Gracie glanced up as another one of Tawny’s crystal laughs rang across the gymnasium. Carter smiled down at Tawny, seemingly in no hurry to leave her company or the possessive hand on his arm.

Nope. Nothing’s changed at all.