Nineteen
NINETEEN
RHETT
Emotions like I’ve never felt before thrummed through me as I played on stage, only intensified by Dana’s presence in the pews. She loved my music and my voice when I played in Phantom Echoes, but seeing her experience it as I played live gave me a swell of pride. Pride that I quickly felt convicted of. I wasn’t playing for her; I was playing for Christ, and I prayed in those moments that God would help me focus on Him over Dana. Thankfully God quickly answered my prayer. Sure, my gaze kept drifting to her, but I was no longer playing to impress her.
Our time apart has done nothing but increase my desire for her. I see how she interacts with her teenage girls at youth group. How she greets the people at church and gives them her full attention. Even through the windows of the café, I see how she smiles at customers in a way that forces even the grumpiest people to smile in return. Witnessing those small moments only makes me miss her more. But I’ve held back from approaching her. According to Rosa, Dana still needs time. Even though it’s hard, I will continue to respect that.
But whether she wants to admit it or not, what we have will never go away. It all started before I even knew she existed. This all started with Phantom Echoes.
The same Phantom Echoes that fell from fame in a flash. In a single night, my world crumbled. Memories of that night still play on repeat each time I pick up a guitar. They greet me in my dreams, morphing them into the nightmare I experience almost every night. It’s been years since I witnessed a woman’s death, yet the memory never fades. Even when amnesia clouded everything else, her face, her actions still haunted me. Just like they did while I recorded my song for Oscar. But the more I play—not for myself, but for Christ—the less the memories sting. God is healing me through each of those moments.
My life pre-Christ was a mess. If I didn’t come to Christ when I did, I don’t know where I’d be. And just like the comfort I received after making Jesus Lord of my life, the stepping out in obedience I took after picking back up a guitar has been a balm to my fractured soul.
Playing and singing felt so good tonight that I can’t help but make my way back to the music room to play some more.
Before I reach for the door handle, I hear someone inside singing. A woman’s voice fills the room; it’s beautiful, but her tone is full of heartbreak. I don’t recognize the song and the melody is slightly off, but I could listen to her for hours.
Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and allow the somehow familiar voice and lyrics to wash over me.
“I know what I do is wrong
I know it’s not right
Lord, please take this sin away
and make me feel all right
I never meant to hurt You
when I turned my back away
I feel like David in the Psalms, Lord;
over and over I beg
Please let me stay
With You, Lord, I’m happy
With You, Lord, I’m strong…”
She sings through it another two times, and I allow myself to soak in the words and melody. Then I silently pray the prayer of her song, asking God to get me through the messes I’ve made.
The music stops, but absorbed in my prayer, I don’t notice until the door opens and someone says, “Rhett? What are you doing here?”
I’m both surprised and not surprised to find that the beautiful voice belongs to Dana.
I stand up straight and look at her up close for the first time in weeks. There are dark circles under her eyes and frizz frames her face, but I still find her breathtaking.
Her eyes shift back and forth and she clears her throat. “Did you…hear me?” Her voice comes out small.
“I didn’t mean to intrude. Honest.” I put my hands up in a placating gesture. “But when I heard the emotion in your voice and the sincerity of the lyrics, I couldn’t walk away. I had no idea you could sing.”
“I could say the same thing to you,” she spits out, then scrunches her nose as if she didn’t mean to say the words out loud.
Tucking my hands into my pockets, I feign nonchalance. “I deserved that.”
“You did.” She presses her pink lips together and closes her eyes.
My chest cracks open at the sight of her vulnerability. “I’m sorry, Dana. I couldn’t be more sorry. You have no idea?—”
She stops me, raising her hand. “I can’t hear this right now.”
“At least hear me out.” She opens her mouth—to retort, no doubt—but I keep going. “I’m sorry.”
Dana stares at me a long moment, arms crossed tightly across her chest.
Since she doesn’t leave, I take the opportunity to be honest. “I know forgiving me may be impossible, and I wouldn’t hold it against you if you never did. But I at least need you to know the truth, and then you can do with it what you will.” I search her eyes, doing my best to convey the sincerity of what I’m about to say. What I’m about to promise. “I will do everything I can to earn your trust back because you mean more to me than I thought possible. I will never give up on you. I will never give up on us.”
Her mouth pops open. I take a step forward, running my knuckles down her soft cheek. “You mean the world to me, Dana Swann. And I will fight for you and prove to you how serious I am about you. I’m not going anywhere this time. Where you are is where I want to be. You can have all of me. I will give you my heart, handing it to you piece by piece until there’s nothing left.”
She stares at me, unblinking, her chest rapidly rising and falling. I send up a genuine prayer of thanks that I at least have some positive effect on her.
A gentle smile lifts her lips until she forces them back into a firm line. “I’ll hold you to that, Rhett Stryker.”
And just like that, she’s made her own promise to me.
It’s been four days, and I’ve still heard nothing from Dana. In an effort to distract myself and focus on another broken relationship, I call Ashley, who answers on the second ring.
“Hey, how are you?” I ask.
She sighs. “I’ve been better. But I know you’re not calling for me. I’m sorry, but Oscar hasn’t changed his mind.”
“I am calling for you too.”
“If you really want to know, I’m not doing well. Oscar has shut me out, and nothing I do or say is getting through to him.” She sounds defeated.
“I’m sorry.” I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve apologized for my failure to be who they needed me to be.
“You need to stop apologizing. The past is in the past, and we can’t change a thing.”
I’m grateful she feels that way, but it will be a while longer before I can forgive myself.
“I can try. But I will never stop hating myself for what I did.”
“Grace, Rhett. Give yourself grace. What does it say at the beginning of John? For from His–aka Christ’s–fullness we have received grace upon grace.”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose with my free hand. “You’re right.”
“Don’t let Oscar’s unforgiveness hold you back from forgiving yourself. I’ve forgiven you, but more importantly, God has forgiven you. Now it’s time you forgive yourself.”
“You’ve become a wise woman, Ashley Johnson.”
Her sharp intake of breath makes me smile.
“Well, thank you. Though I don’t feel wise right now.”
“Oscar is a stubborn kid. He loves you and you’re a great mom. He’ll come back for you, no matter how he feels about me.” The last part has me choking up. I never thought I’d be so desperate at my age for a teenage boy’s approval. But he’s a part of me, a blessing that came out of my mess of a life. Even if he never forgives me, I’m grateful that I had the chance to meet him and help him.
“He’s going to come around for you too.” Ashley says with conviction. “It will just take more time.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Me too,” she whispers, then clears her throat. “Hey, well, I got to go. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“Thank you. Have a good one, Ash.”
“You too.”
The spark of hope I felt before calling Ashley flickers out when we hang up. As much as I want to know if Oscar listened to my song, I can’t bring myself to ask her. She has enough going on.
So to focus on something I can control, I read a few Psalms to get ready for today’s service.
I take my place at the end of my usual pew with Dr. and Mrs. Woodhouse as I wait for the cue to go on stage. Mrs. Woodhouse nudges me with her elbow and tilts her head toward the aisle, where I turn to see Dana walking to her seat. Crew isn’t far behind her. Dana must feel my gaze on her, and she turns and gives me a quick wave. I wave back and mouth “Hi.”
Rosa arrives late, but she waves enthusiastically after sitting beside Dana. Crew turns around and nods in a silent greeting. Then it’s my cue, and I make my way up on stage, picking up the guitar I’ve become so familiar with, and get into the mix of contemporary worship songs and hymns we’ve practiced for today. To keep myself immersed in worship, I close my eyes and sing while standing back from the microphone, not wanting to take over the lyrics and detract from the lead worship singer.
The final song comes to a close, and I open my eyes and look toward Dana. The magnetic, almost electric pull we have crackles despite the people standing between us. She once said we have great chemistry—and we do—but everything about us, about her, is so much more. She gives me a gentle smile, breathing life into the spark of hope that’s been simmering in my chest.
I make my way back to my spot with the Woodhouses as Dillon greets the congregation. “Happy Sunday, Saints!”
He runs through the announcements and brings up the upcoming youth girls’ retreat. I send up a silent prayer for Dana, who is leading the messages that weekend.
When Pastor Ben takes the stage, I try my hardest to focus on the message but fail miserably. All I can think about is Dana, the son who wants nothing to do with me, and the complete mess I’ve made of my life. The Holy Spirit nudges me with a promise. There’s still hope.
Mrs. Woodhouse hands me a mint, jolting me back to reality.
“Let’s go to the Lord in prayer.”
I bow my head as the pastor says his prayer and closes the message.
My life is still a mess, but it’s in the thick of the mess where God works His good. I know my past mistakes aren’t bigger than God, and in time, He’ll make everything good and right.