Chapter 17 #2
She followed the sound, and sure enough, Caleb and his guitar hid there among the lilacs. His khaki-colored linen shorts and shirt and brown slip-ons gave him a more casual vibe than usual, and she liked it.
“Up before the sun?” He stopped playing mid-chord and set down his guitar. “I had a feeling you’d come by.”
“I borrowed the parlor piano for a few minutes. Something about that room always calms me.”
He nodded. “Me too.”
A breeze stirred the lilacs and scattered their fragrance through the air.
But even Caleb’s presence among the flowers couldn’t completely quiet her fears.
“I need to check on the stagehands. Something’s always missing or doesn’t work right, and we need to be ready for rehearsal before the concert. Want to come along?”
“No. I want to do it for you. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”
“That’s sweet, but Aunt Dahlia gave me the job.”
“Miss Dahlia’s not here. She left you in charge, so you can choose to let me do it.”
She smiled. “You’re stretching me again, Caleb.”
This time, she liked it. It felt good to have a partner.
That afternoon, as the sun began to lower in the sky and with little waves lapping against the rocks, Ariel announced a break in their rehearsal. Stepping off the outdoor stage their team had built on Windy Beach’s wide lawn, she started for the water, seeking a calm, quiet place to pray.
With the beach deserted and quiet, other than the sound of seagull calls, she bent down and threw a little rock into the huge lake.
That’s my life, Lord. A little bitty person in this huge world. In the natural, my life still looks messy. I have no idea where my career will go, and my future seems wide open to change in every way. Except for You, Jesus. You never change.
Just like that, the presence of the Lord came down and filled that beach, filled her mind, helped her discern her thoughts from His words.
All was well.
Even though she didn’t know how things would work out with Caleb. How her relationship with Aunt Dahlia would change if both Sullivan women soon changed their names. How the musicians would react when she and Aunt Dahlia announced their decision not to divide but to multiply the band.
Later, after the applause had died down following the other bands’ performances and minutes before the teens would sing, Ariel peered between the curtains separating the makeshift green room—rather, the green tent—from the open stage and saw a larger crowd than she’d expected.
She let go of the curtain and turned back to the kids, unsure whether to tell them.
“Big crowd,” Caleb said, slipping up behind her.
“I didn’t expect it, since everyone knows Aunt Dahlia can’t come.”
He looked at her with those heart-melting brown eyes. “Your fans love you and Miss Dahlia because they know you love them. The ticket-booth workers told me everybody says they want to show love for you and support for your aunt.”
Her eyes misted. They loved her. Caleb loved her. And Aunt Dahlia loved her enough to let her go. To Caleb and to her own career.
“Time to bring on the kids,” the production manager called from outside the tent.
Ariel led the young people backstage for last-minute instructions.
“Breathe from your diaphragm, stagger your breathing during long notes. And no nasal singing.” A few of the kids chuckled, but the rest looked too nervous to catch her attempt at humor.
She stepped closer to give the most important instruction. “The secret to entertaining is to forget yourself and people’s opinion of you. Instead, look at your audience and think about them—how you can bless them from your platform.”
She noticed Caleb from the corner of her eye. Funny how his mere presence gave her a measure of confidence that she might make it through this concert.
He moved close, pulled her aside. “You doing okay?”
“I was less nervous the first time I got on a stage.”
He gave her a silly grin. Probably trying to make her smile. Which it did. “Why? Because you have to sing with me instead of Miss Dahlia?”
“It’s not that. She’s always my strength. I’ve never gone onstage without her.”
Caleb sobered and took her hand in his gentle grip. “You’re Ariel Denton Sullivan. You can do anything you put your mind to. Especially with music.”
“I’m not so sure.”
He stepped closer, his gaze intense. “Then go in the strength and talent of the Lord. He’s the one who invented music. So lean into who He is and what He can do with music, and flow with what He gives you.”
In an instant, it all made sense.
The emcee finally introduced Ariel, the musicians, and the teen choir. She stepped onto a stage full of mics, guitars, a sax, a trombone, upright bass, and a trumpet on their stands. With wide eyes, the teens took their places on the risers.
She breathed a prayer for them, because as terrified as most of them looked, Ariel might have to sing this one solo.
Then she caught sight of Nevaeh, who’d defended her on the street two days ago. The girl looked confident, almost defiantly so, as she waited for Ariel’s four-count.
The first measure started weak, hesitant, other than Nevaeh’s strong soprano voice.
Ariel sang along with them, raising one hand in a gesture for more volume. By measure twelve, they sang out with confidence.
The choir finished strong, and the crowd stood and showed grace and appreciation for the everyday teens who’d found themselves terrified on a professional stage.
A night for them to remember.
When they’d exited the stage, another round of applause rang out from the audience. She spun to see what the fuss was about and caught sight of Caleb’s grandfather shuffling toward the bass, holding Caleb’s arm.
The older man caught her gaze and smiled tentatively, as if unsure of his welcome on “her” stage.
She ran to him in time to take his other arm and walk the rest of the way across the stage with her two men.
Granddad took his place, picked up the bow, and planted a kiss on her cheek.
Caleb grinned and shrugged for the audience, then gave her a more lingering kiss on the other, drawing another roar of applause.
With his grandfather settled at his instrument, Caleb took his place beside Ariel, where she’d positioned both his guitar and a tenor sax.
She reached for her own guitar and started the first song—their own arrangement of the old jazz song “Misty.” Caleb played through the verse, then set down his guitar at the chorus and alternated tenor sax with his strong bass, sometimes gravelly voice.
After a few old and new jazzy songs, Caleb played the intro to “Mercy Song.” As they played and worshiped the Lord through the music, a holy hush fell, the presence of the Lord strong and sweet.
The presence lingered as they transitioned to a different key and played Ariel’s new song, “You Come to Me at Night.” Then they sang a few old and new worship songs, inviting the audience to sing and praise with them.
When the music wound down and the band started their signature ending song, Caleb moved so close she could see the nuances of change in his eyes as she sang the first lines of “Amazing Grace.”
He added a little vocal harmony here and there. His voice captured her mind and heart so completely she wanted to hear only him.
Only Caleb. Forever.
“‘And grace will lead me home.’”
She let the last chord ring, then played the chorus again, clicked off her mic and turned to him, her voice low. “I found my home when I found you, Caleb.”
In a near-whisper, speaking to her alone, he leaned close then clicked off his mic. “You’re my home too. I love you, Ariel. I’ll always love you.”
“Caleb, I’ve loved you since that night at the Doves. Maybe even back when I was a girl, when you welcomed me into your home.”
She loved him, and he loved her. Everything would be okay.
He took her hand. “Let’s form something new. Just you and me. A new band. A new life.”
“And a new home.” She drew a slow breath of relief, of contentment.
Her eyes took on a sparkle and her smile turned into a mischievous grin. “What about my promise never to date a musician?”
He leaned closer, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek.
“I’m not askin’ you to date him, darlin’,” he said, imitating Miss Dahlia’s Tennessee drawl. “I’m askin’ you to marry him.”
“And I’m sayin’ yes.”
And just like that, alone in the crowd, their futures settled and their pasts redeemed, she knew they’d roll with the details just as they’d always rolled with the uncertainties of the stage.