Chapter 7 An Explanation At Last
Friday afternoon settled softly over Kansas City as the Veronique offices finally started slowing down from the week’s momentum.
Phones rang less and the conversations shortened.
Staff drifted toward the elevators carrying folders and new scent plans.
Carry sat at her desk reviewing campaign notes Wendy had just delivered, comparing them to the financial statements Cassie had dropped off earlier.
She noticed Billy standing out in the hallway just past her door, his guitar case slung over his shoulder.
It appeared that Billy was speaking with Veronica. Carry got up to head to her doorway.
“I thought you were over at the Studio still working on your practice sessions to get ready for the Tour,” Carry said.
“We had a good week of practice together. I’ve really enjoyed being part of the Open Heart Band, but it’s time to head home for Sabbath, and I had to drop off this folder from James for Veronica before I call it a week.”
“You heading out already?” she asked as he stepped over near her office door.
Billy nodded once. “Yeah. I try to get home before sundown on Fridays.”
Carry tilted her head slightly. “For Sabbath?”
That got a brief glance from him. Curious—but not guarded. “Yeah,” he replied simply.
She leaned back slightly in her doorway. “Veronica mentioned that a few times now,” she admitted. “Do you disappear every Friday evening like clockwork?”
Billy smirked faintly. “Sounds about right.”
Carry hesitated for a second. “So… what exactly do you do?”
Billy adjusted the guitar case on his shoulder. “Shabbat dinner with the Challah and Wine. There’s a special Prayer, some Scripture covered, then we just rest to prepare for synagogue in the morning.” He shrugged lightly. “Nothing dramatic.”
“That sounds dramatic coming from a musician,” she teased softly.
“Depends on the musician.” Billy smiled brightly, seeing she had an interest.
That actually pulled a quiet laugh from her. Then her expression shifted thoughtful again. “Messianic Jewish, right?” Carry pondered things, and it was clear that her eyes were reviewing everything at this moment, just taking in new information.
Billy nodded. “Mom’s side.”
Carry looked down briefly, then back up. “I’ve honestly never known anyone who practiced that before.”
Billy studied her for a moment, catching the sincerity in it. “Most people haven’t.”
Another brief pause settled between them before Carry surprised even herself. “It’d be interesting to see this for myself.” She paused, reading Billy’s body posture and the look in his eyes. “Could I come?”
Billy blinked once. “To Sabbath dinner?” He smiled even bigger.
She gave a slightly embarrassed shrug. “You make it sound peaceful.” A faint pause. “And after the last couple of weeks hectic pace… peaceful sounds nice.”
Billy’s expression softened slightly before he answered. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “You can come. We’d be more than happy to have you.”
Carry smiled almost immediately—small, genuine and relieved in a way she hadn’t expected. “Really?”
“Really,” he replied. “Just don’t expect perfection. Dad usually starts singing before dessert, though mom has him doing David’s psalms nowadays.”
“That sounds kind of perfect actually.” She quickly hugged him.
Billy laughed under his breath. “You say that now. You can follow me.”
—
The drive out toward the Blakes’ home felt strangely different from everything else Carry had experienced lately.
No cameras. No pressure. No campaign meetings.
No Veronica steering conversations toward opportunity and image.
Just Billy driving his Dodge Ram truck with one hand resting lightly on the wheel while she followed behind him carefully in her Chevy Cavalier.
She pulled in right behind him, then quickly got out and moved over to his drivers door. Carry glanced over at him once. “You do this every week?”
“Pretty much,” Billy replied. “Unless I’m touring or recording.”
“And Veronica just lets you disappear?”
Billy smirked faintly. “Veronica doesn’t own my Fridays. In fact, she’s starting to observe the Sabbath with us at Synagogue.”
That answer lingered with her more than she expected.
The house itself sat on two acres just at the southern edge of the city—wide porch, warm lights already glowing as sunset neared. Comfortable. Lived in. The moment Billy opened the front door, the smell hit immediately. Fresh bread. Roasted meat. Herbs. Something sweet underneath it all.
“Well,” a deep voice called from the kitchen, “you finally brought somebody home that isn’t carrying recording equipment.”
Carry looked up as Wilhelm Henry Blake stepped into view holding a dish towel over his shoulder. Tall, broad shouldered and carrying the unmistakable ease of someone used to stages and crowds, even in his own kitchen.
Billy sighed lightly. “Dad…”
Wilhelm ignored him completely, grinning warmly at Carry instead. “You must be Mia.”
“DAD!” Billy complained. “I told you that we broke up because of my choosing to go into Contemporary Christian Music!”
“I know that,” Wilhelm laughed. “I thought you’d laugh about that.”
“Not funny, dad,” Billy said somberly, dropping his head.
“That means you must be the girl from Veronique he’s been talking about. Carry Mitchelson, Miss Vanilla Rose.”
She smiled politely. “Guilty, as charged,” she said with a soft giggle.
“Good,” he said immediately. “That means Bethany’s instincts still work.”
“Wilhelm,” another voice called firmly from the dining room.
Carry turned and saw Bethany Renee Blake approaching. Softer than her husband in presentation, but with an unmistakable steadiness in her eyes. Calm. Grounded. Wise in a way Carry noticed almost instantly.
Bethany smiled warmly. “Welcome, Carry.”
“Thank you for having me,” she replied with a soft smile of gratitude.
Bethany glanced once toward Billy, then back to Carry again with the faintest knowing expression. “Anyone Billy brings home for Sabbath is always welcome at our table.”
Billy immediately looked away toward the kitchen. “Mom…”
Wilhelm burst out laughing. “Oh, this is already gonna be fun.”
Carry couldn’t help smiling as Billy shook his head in surrender. For the first time in weeks—maybe longer—something inside her eased. Not ambition. Not pressure. Not expectation. Just warmth.
The Sabbath meal itself passed with a warmth that caught Carry off guard.
Wilhelm kept the conversation moving with easy humor between bites of roasted chicken and homemade Challah while Bethany quietly anchored the evening with calm steadiness.
The candles flickered softly in the center of the table as the blessings were spoken.
Scripture was read, wine poured and shared.
Nothing theatrical. Nothing forced. Just family.
Billy relaxed there in a way Carry hadn’t seen before. Looser. Safer.
Wilhelm eventually leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. “Now this,” he announced proudly, patting his stomach, “is proof the Lord still loves humanity.”
Bethany shook her head faintly. “Or proof you take second portions before guests finish their first.”
“That too,” Wilhelm admitted with zero shame.
Carry laughed softly into her glass while Billy just dropped his head. “You see what I have to deal with?”
“Every Sabbath,” Bethany added calmly. “It’s like this every Sabbath here at Blake Ranch,” she continued. “Wilhelm makes sure it’s always eventful and fun.”
The conversation shifted after that toward music, touring, and stories from Wilhelm’s years performing country music across the Midwest before settling down into studio work and songwriting.
Bethany explained how writing a song is how she met Wilhelm, and after winning him from another beautiful woman, she convinced him to settle down.
Then she explained her need in taking the job at Blue Valley schools as a music teacher to have consistent income.
Carry found herself listening more than speaking.
There was no pressure to impress anyone here.
No expectation sitting behind every word.
Just people talking openly with one another.
As the evening settled deeper and sunset had given way to the cool approach of Memorial Day weekend air, Billy finally nodded toward the front porch. “You wanna get some fresh air for a bit? You can see the stars from the porch here.”
Carry smiled immediately. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
They stepped outside together while Wilhelm started humming a psalm of David, from when Saul pursued him. His humming from the kitchen was loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I’m sorry you have to hear that,” Billy muttered, as the screen door shut behind them.
“You hear it every week,” Bethany called back calmly from the living room.
“What is this tune?” Carry asked.
“It’s from a psalm of David, when he was being pursued by King Saul and Yah hid him from the King, being his rock and fortress,” Billy explained.
The porch creaked softly beneath their steps as they settled into the wooden swing near the railing.
The evening air carried the scent of fresh cut grass and distant barbeque smoke drifting through the neighborhood.
Somewhere farther off, fireworks cracked faintly in the distance from early Memorial Day celebrations.
Carry leaned back slightly, exhaling slowly. “This is nice.”
Billy nodded once. “Yeah. It usually is. For me, this is the Shalom of Yeshua.”
For a little while neither of them spoke. The quiet didn’t feel awkward though. Just peaceful. Carry watched the last streaks of orange fading across the horizon while the porch light cast a soft glow around them, the darkness settling in.