Chapter 12
The next morning, Anson stared down at the familiar pattern on the plastic container that waited outside his office. Reluctantly, he picked it up from the floor, then let himself inside his office. He popped the lid, and the aroma of peanut butter confirmed Blaze had left the cookies. But why?
They were already as close as he was willing to get—closer, even. He hadn’t crossed a line, but accepting spontaneous gifts inched closer to the boundary. He’d make the gift less personal by sharing it with the youth.
He plucked the card from inside the container. Thanks for the assist yesterday. Blaze
A simple thank-you, not some loaded effort to deepen a relationship. His relief washed out in a quick exhale.
“No student should’ve been left unsupervised, especially not long enough to throw a party in the woods.”
At the voice behind him, Anson’s chest bound up again. Eric had taken yesterday’s news of Carter’s misbehavior quietly. Anson had hoped that meant Eric would endorse the consequences and levy some of his own. Apparently not.
He prayed for wisdom as he set the cookies on the desk and turned to face his accuser. “Carter disobeyed my instructions to stay in sight of the lead canoe.”
Eric stood in the doorway. “Kids will be kids. You should’ve anticipated that.”
“The permission slip specifies that students are responsible for following directions, respecting leaders, and obeying all applicable laws. Carter violated all three.”
Eric’s face reddened. “If anyone else had done this, you wouldn’t be banning them from everything. This stinks of a personal vendetta.”
Anson crossed his arms and half-sat on the edge of his desk. “The consequences are the same for all the students involved. They’re all sitting out for the next special event unless a parent attends with them, and I emailed the school about the situation.”
“It was not a school issue. It was a church event. A poorly run one at that.”
“There was nothing wrong with how we ran the event. We had plenty of leaders—”
Eric sliced his hands through the air. “You had distractions, not leaders. One was your girlfriend. Another was so unqualified, she had to be fished from the river. It’s a wonder nothing worse happened.”
Anson let the space of three breaths pass.
With each inhale, his knee-jerk defensiveness ebbed until he could issue a productive reply.
“Everyone on that trip will confirm Sydney was not a distraction. As for Blaze, she came to relate with the kids, which she did. If your son had stayed with us and acted in the spirit of the event like she did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. ”
“You don’t like the mandate to increase youth group attendance. You’re retaliating through my son.”
“I assure you, that is not the case.” Interesting that he brought up grudges, though, as Eric seemed to have one of his own.
A vein protruded from Eric’s neck. “No one in the history of this church has reported to the school administration. The church is independent and its own authority.”
“God is the authority, and His concerns for justice go beyond what we do in this building. Carter and his friends set a bad example to the other students on the trip. And it wouldn’t be fair to my other athletes to turn a blind eye to an alcohol violation committed right in front of me.
Teenage drinking has serious consequences, the least problematic of which are the ones issued by churches and schools. ”
“Meaning what?”
“Kids die.” He felt sick just saying it.
Eric recoiled, then scoffed. “Kids act out. It’s up to the adults to respond well. Your actions only make it more likely that he’ll hide his behavior in the future.”
“He was already trying to hide it.”
At Anson’s quiet response, Eric backed toward the exit, but then paused. “With this attitude, I won’t have to worry about you much longer. You’ll never get the numbers, and that’s all the cause I need. And what will the school say when their star athlete doesn’t come back this year?”
Anson imagined they’d say good riddance. The principal wouldn’t give in to Eric’s bullying. Before his last conversation with Greg, Anson had had as much confidence in the church. Now, he could only pray for the strength to stand or fall by his convictions.
Forgetting something?
Blaze frowned at Marissa’s text. She left work a couple of hours ago, had dinner with Mercy, and … she jerked away from her computer. The Depot. How could she have forgotten her Monday night performance? Singing was the highlight of her week.
“Mercy! Are you ready?” Without saving the document she’d been filling out, she abandoned the desk in the living room and ran to the mud room. She snatched her purse from a hook. “We need to be there!”
A muffled reply sounded from the lower level.
Blaze jammed her feet into her shoes. She’d contacted the school’s recommended behavioral health department and set Mercy’s intake interview for Wednesday.
They’d promptly sent a twenty-one-page new patient form.
Blaze hadn’t realized she’d have that much paperwork to do in the next two days—or that she’d get so engrossed.
“Mercy?”
The girl clopped into the room, her blue purse in hand, a book under her arm, and shoes half on her feet. With a couple of shuffles, the backs popped up over her heels. “Ready.”
The girl knew the drill. They’d rushed out the door this way a million times.
Thirteen minutes later, Blaze waited in the wings as Philip finished a song. Her boss usually preferred to stay in the background, but he had a more-than-passable singing voice. The crowd’s applause signaled their agreement.
He spotted her and leaned close to the mic once more. “And now, the singer I know you’ve all been waiting for. Give it up for Blaze Astley!” He waved his farewell and retreated to his usual spot as cheers—more enthusiastic than Blaze expected—welcomed her.
She closed her fingers around the mic. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
She strained against the stage lights to identify her outspoken fans. Over at her usual table, Sydney clapped along with the crowd. A couple of women sat with her. No Anson.
A swell of disappointment, followed by guilt, hardened her diaphragm. She forced a deep breath as the band started a song. She couldn’t pine after someone else’s man. Especially someone as kind and thoughtful as Sydney.
Two model citizens, when Anson and Sydney got married and had kids, they’d be the poster family for the American dream.
On her cue, Blaze came in. She’d sung the song dozens of times, so after a few bars, her thoughts returned to Anson.
Maybe she didn’t have feelings for him. Maybe what she really wanted was the kind of life he modeled. She wanted to be dependable, do more in the community, stay on top of things, and not have to scramble every day of her life. She wanted a life not defined by a generational curse.
Sydney fit that description as well as Anson did. Maybe if Blaze befriended her, some of Sydney’s good traits would rub off, and Blaze’s foolish heart would drop this interest in Anson.
Between sets, Blaze first stopped to say good night to Mercy. Marissa always took her home about halfway through the show so she could get to bed at a reasonable time. As they left, Blaze approached Sydney’s table.
Blaze recognized the women on either side of Sydney from around town—Madison and Honor. Based on how often she saw them together at Monday shows, the three must be close.
Sydney smiled at her. “You sound great up there. How’re you doing?”
“My muscles ache more today than yesterday, if that’s possible.” Blaze rolled her shoulder. “How about you?”
“Oh, I’m good.” Sydney motioned to an empty chair. “Take a load off. You amaze me every week, standing all night in heels.”
“I guess we all have our talents.” Blaze took the seat beside Honor. “So. Girls’ night?”
“It wasn’t planned that way.” Sydney sipped her soda.
“I’m newly single.” Honor’s blue eyes seemed to hold determination.
“And better for it,” Madison said.
“Yeah. I don’t know why I ….” Honor shook her head, and her blond hair swung. “Sometimes only hindsight shows you how far off course you let things go.”
Sydney rubbed Honor’s back, her silence packed with compassion. After a couple of seconds, she refocused on Blaze. “And Anson’s at the gym, blowing off steam. There was drama with some of the kids from the canoe trip.”
Blaze nodded. She heard about the drinking, but not what had been done about it.
Madison leaned closer to Sydney. “Unless he wants you to think he’s at the gym. Maybe he’s off making elaborate anniversary plans.”
“Anniversary?” Blaze tried to remember when she’d first seen Sydney and Anson together but came up blank. “Congratulations. How long?”
“A year since our first date. We came here, actually. To one of your shows.”
Madison laughed. “As if that counts. You both came here regularly before you started dating.”
Sydney cracked a smile. “But that night, we held hands.”
Madison snorted. “Which is as steamy as you two get.”
Honor grinned. “Will that change after he proposes, or are you saving kissing along with everything else for after the vows?”
“Stop it.” Sydney pressed the back of her hand to her cheek. “We kiss.”
Madison crossed her arms with a smug smile. “Not that I’ve seen.”
Not that Blaze had seen either. Maybe that was why she kept having to remind herself Anson was off the market.
Sydney opened her mouth, but then bit her bottom lip.
Blaze had to help her out. She’d never forget the searing shame of being caught making out with her boyfriend outside the high school. Maybe Anson and Sydney were on to something. “Discretion is underrated,” Blaze said.
Honor grunted. “And you know what? Maybe kissing’s overrated.”
Madison gasped and pressed a hand to her chest. “Jimmy did a number on you. There’s nothing quite like a good kiss. Right?” She nudged Sydney with her elbow.
Sydney pursed her smiling lips and shook her head, refusing to comment.
Madison braced a hand on the table. “When a kiss is all fireworks and thrills and … and safety. Does that sound weird? Because I think that’s key. Safety in the midst of all the exhilaration. That’s when you’ve got a keeper.”
Sydney chuckled, and Blaze knew she ought to laugh, but her lungs refused to cooperate. The last time she’d felt safe, she’d been in Anson’s arms. But she was simply grateful she hadn’t drowned. That was all she felt. Gratitude.
Time to stop obsessing about it. She smiled at Madison. “You’re quite the romantic.”
Smirking, Madison eyed Sydney, who sat a little too still with two fingers resting on her lips.
“If you are waiting for the proposal,” Honor said, “then I bet Thursday’s the day.”
Sydney lowered her hand. “He has a meeting on Thursday. We’re getting dinner on Saturday, but he hasn’t said anything about special plans.”
“That’s even more of a sign.” Madison stabbed the table with her index finger. “A guy like Anson doesn’t forget an anniversary. I bet he hasn’t said anything because he wants you to think he forgot so the proposal is more of a surprise.”
“You’re crazy.” Sydney laughed, but as Madison focused on other topics, Sydney’s expression sobered, and she withdrew from the conversation.
Blaze wanted to ask why she’d turned so thoughtful, but they weren’t that good of friends. She checked the time, then rose to get back on stage. “I’m sure you two will have a wonderful anniversary. Congrats.”