Chapter 52

fifty-two

ANDREW

The following day, I handed the sound engineer the microphone and forced myself to smile. “Thank you. That was great.”

Even though everything had run smoothly at last night’s concert, we weren’t leaving anything to chance. For the last hour, I’d patiently waited while Tim and the band completed another sound and lighting check.

After Tim was finished, he’d left to catch a steamboat cruise of Willow Lake with his family.

My sound check took half the time.

“No changes?” the sound engineer asked.

I shook my head. “It’s perfect.”

“In that case, we’ve finished for the morning. I’ll see you back here at five o’clock.”

I shook his hand and walked off the stage. A round of applause greeted me as I stepped onto the grassy arena. Even before the sound check had started, a group of eager fans were standing outside the barriers, waiting to hear everything they could from Tim and me.

I lifted my hand, acknowledging their support, but didn’t stop to sign autographs or answer the questions that were on everyone’s lips.

Videos of some of the songs from last night’s concert had made their way to Facebook. If I thought people’s reaction to the video from Shane and Jonathan’s wedding was over the top, the comments following the latest postings were worse.

A woman yelled my name. After last night, I desperately needed some time alone. So I bowed my head and kept walking.

Instead of going to the parking lot, I veered left, walking toward the lake. The water had always soothed me, calmed my overactive mind, and helped me focus on what was important. And right now, Jacob was the most important person in my life.

The tall, handsome doctor who seemed to have everything, was hurting. I wanted to be there for him, to help him move forward with his life, but I didn’t know how.

I wasn’t a doctor, a psychologist, or even a therapist. PTSD was as foreign to me as walking on the moon. But I loved deeply and true, and maybe, if Jacob could trust me, it might be enough to see him through the worst of his symptoms.

As the mid-morning sunshine glistened off the water, I stood in a quiet area to meditate. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. The turmoil of last night settled inside me, found a quiet space to lay while my mind processed everything that had happened.

Footsteps slowed behind me.

I moved closer to the lake, hoping whoever had come to enjoy the scenery would leave me to my thoughts.

“Your voice is even better than it was three years ago.”

My eyes shot open. I would have recognized the deep, gravelly voice anywhere. Turning around, I smiled at the gray-haired man standing behind me.

Ian Derrick had been the one bright light in my last months in Nashville. As the chief executive of Sunset Records, he’d grown my career in ways that no one else could have achieved.

“Hi, Ian. It’s good to see you.” I hugged my friend and mentor.

“It’s good to see you, too. I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”

I frowned. “You’re disappointed I didn’t sign the recording contract?”

“No. I was away when my staff met with David. If I’d known you wanted to return to Nashville, I would have called you.” Ian studied my face. “Not signing the contract was the right thing to do.”

“I couldn’t work with David again.”

“I don’t blame you. Do you want to walk along the shore with me? I’ve been sitting on a plane for a few hours and need to ease the kinks out of my body.”

Despite how tired I was, I smiled. “I thought you would have flown to Boulder on a chartered flight.”

“That was the old days. Commercial flights suit me fine, especially when it was a last-minute decision to come here.”

I scuffed my feet along the dirt trail. “Why did you come?”

“I watched parts of last night’s fundraising concert on YouTube. When I heard you sing, it brought back a lot of good memories.”

I didn’t believe him. “You haven’t flown all this way to reminisce about my career.”

“Of course, I haven’t. But before I ask if you’ll work directly with me, I want to know how everything’s going.”

“I’m not returning to Nashville.”

Ian wrapped his hand around my elbow and kept walking. “When you told me you wanted to go home, what did I tell you?”

I didn’t have to think about my answer. “You told me to find what makes me happy.”

“And have you?”

“I have.”

Ian smiled. “And apart from being happy, how else do you feel?”

I looked along the trail, at the trees sheltering the worn dirt track from the worst of the weather. This was where I belonged, not a concrete jungle waiting to swallow me whole.

“If I told you I’m content, it wouldn’t be enough. I’ve found myself, and I’m not losing sight of that person again.”

“What if I said you don’t have to? You could write new material and record the songs in Tim’s studio. Unlike a lot of musicians, you have a loyal fan base. They’ll follow your career regardless of where you’re living.”

“I don’t want to be followed. I want to focus on my photography and build a great life here.”

“You can still do that. It’s been more than three years since you released your last album and people are still talking about your songs.” Ian turned toward me. “Creating music that touches people’s souls is a gift. Don’t let it go to waste.”

I valued Ian’s opinion, I really did. But returning to my old life wasn’t an option, no matter how different he said it would be.

Ian sighed. “I wasn’t joking when I said your voice is better than ever. Did Tim write the new songs you performed, or were they yours?”

“I wrote most of the songs. Music helped me make sense of how I felt after I left Nashville.”

“It’d be a shame not to share them with the world.” When I didn’t reply, he continued. “Is there anything I can say or do that will make you change your mind about recording a new album?”

I shook my head. “I’m glad you enjoyed the songs, but I was only singing them because we were raising funds for the tiny home village.”

“In that case,” Ian said with a smile, “we should enjoy the stunning scenery. And while we’re here, you can tell me about the tiny home village.”

I leaned into Ian’s arm. “You won’t get around me that easily. Even though the village is important to me, you can’t use it as leverage.”

Ian patted my hand. “Would I do something so unscrupulous?”

“If it helped you get your own way, you would. But I’m happy to tell you about the tiny homes. You’ll love what we’re doing.”

As we walked farther along the trail, Ian listened attentively as I described what the community and Pastor Adam were achieving. If nothing else, Ian would go home with a better understanding of why Sunrise Bay was so special.

And why I wasn’t leaving.