Chapter 50

fifty

ANDREW

I stood beside Tim, gazing down at Amy and her friends in the audience. Just looking at their faces made me remember what it was like to be excited about being alive. It was easy to forget the magic, the small things that could make a big difference in your life.

The girls’ eyes shone with happiness as Tim talked about the opening ceremony of the tiny home village. When he mentioned the song Amy and her friends had sung, the audience burst into applause.

If they looked excited before, the girls were awestruck when he invited them onto the stage for a repeat performance. At first, no one moved. Then, one by one, they looked at Elijah, waiting to see if they’d heard Tim correctly.

When Elijah nodded, they leapt out of their seats and headed toward the stage.

I met them on the stairs.

“Do you and Tim really want us to sing?” Amy asked.

I nodded. “Most of the people in the audience didn’t hear your song the other day. Would you like to sing to some different people?”

All the girls nodded.

“Then follow me,” I whispered. “And don’t worry about the band. They know the music.”

Everyone stood in a line in the middle of the stage, exactly as they’d done at the tiny home village.

I knelt on the floor in front of them. “What do you see when you look into the audience?”

“Lots of people sitting in the front rows,” one of the girls quietly replied. “But I can’t see anyone far away.”

Considering how nervous everyone looked, I thought that was a good thing. “Can you see Elijah?”

Everyone nodded.

“I can see my mom and dad, too,” a little girl with blonde hair said.

I smiled. “That’s great. When you’re singing, pretend you’re singing to Elijah or your families.”

“Will you stay with us?” Amy asked.

“If you want me to.”

Amy looked on either side of her, gauging her friends’ response. Their bobbing heads showed just how unsure they were about standing on the stage. “We want you to stay.”

The girl with blonde hair stepped forward. “Can you sing with us?”

All the girls nodded. There was such an openness in their expressions that I felt humbled by their request. “Okay.”

Someone brought a chair from behind the curtains and placed it in the middle of the stage. Everyone clustered around me, biting their bottom lips and chewing their nails.

“This will be fun,” I said, trying to encourage the girls as much as possible. After nodding at the band, the first notes of the song rose into the air.

Tears stung my eyes as the girls’ voices filled the stage with a pure, sweet rendition of, “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother.”

For a group who hadn’t been singing together for very long, their harmonies were incredible.

The connection between the lyrics and the goals of the tiny home village weren’t lost on the audience. Most of the people I could see were dabbing their eyes, caught in the emotion of a song about unconditional love. About being there for each other, no matter what happened in someone’s life.

The tiny homes and the services The Welcome Center provided gave people hope. In their darkest days, when no one else gave them a chance to live a normal, safe, and healthy life, the community was opening their arms and welcoming them to Sunrise Bay.

As I joined in the chorus, I thought about Jacob and the sacrifices he’d made to help the refugees. My heart swelled with pride and a little sadness. Working in Afghanistan had changed his life, left him with challenges he couldn’t have imagined. I’d do everything I could to be the person who carried him when he needed someone strong beside him.

Goosebumps rose along my arms as Amy sang the last verse on her own. Her voice was pure and natural, everything the song needed to lodge itself inside the most hardened of hearts.

As the last notes drifted across the park, they dissolved like cotton candy in the cool mountain air.

For a few seconds, the audience sat silently in their seats, spellbound by the performance. When the applause began, it rang across the lake, echoing along the streets and into the town we called home.

I smiled at the girls. Their pink cheeks and wide smiles reminded me of when I’d started performing. I’d felt the same sense of wonder, the same excitement when an audience clapped and cheered. The same adrenaline rush that kept me returning for more.

Amy’s small hand settled in mine.

“Let’s bow,” I said above the applause.

The girls stood in a single line. With their hands linked, they bent at the waist, smiling at the audience. After a final wave, they rushed to the side of the stage.

Tim was waiting for them. “Well done. That was fantastic!”

Amy and her friends couldn’t contain their excitement. They hugged each other and jumped up and down like overactive bunny rabbits.

I grinned at Tim. “We don’t need to ask how they’re feeling.”

“I’m glad they enjoyed themselves. I’ll see you after the next song.” And while the girls talked nonstop to each other, Tim returned to the stage.

“Who’s ready to go back to their seats?” I asked.

Six hands shot in the air.

“Let’s go. If we’re quick, you’ll be sitting down before Tim starts singing.”

Elijah met them at the bottom of the stairs. His wide smile told everyone just how much he’d enjoyed their performance. “That was awesome. Congratulations.” And while the band played the opening chords of the next song, he ushered them toward their seats.

I waited until everyone was seated before returning to the stage.

The next forty-five minutes would be filled with beautiful duets and foot-stomping country hits. But nothing would stop me from worrying about Jacob.

Even though I trusted Pastor Adam’s judgment, I wouldn’t be able to relax until I saw Jacob for myself.

For the first time ever, the end of a concert couldn’t come soon enough.