Amazing Love (9 page)

Here was another clue into his very private side. Knowing the pain of a father who made no effort to be a part of her life, Claire was beginning to understand the gruff exterior Luke wore like armor to protect his heart.

“But you still see them, right?”

“Not since the summer after high school graduation. My father was so furious I thought he'd have a stroke when I chose music over the military.”

“What about your mother? Didn't she support you?”

“My mother is nothing like yours, Claire. She's so caught up in the old man's career she'd do anything for him. She's happy playing Emma to his Admiral Lord Nelson.”

“But they must be very proud of the work you do, Luke.” She laid a hand gently on his forearm.

He stopped stroking the red tabby in his lap and raised serious eyes to stare at her.

“They have no idea where I am or what I do. We're all satisfied with the arrangement and that's final.” His tone was firm, the matter was closed.

She put her hand back on Buck, who squirmed for attention. “How's it going with the Harvest Sons?” She changed the subject, hungry to know more about this man.

His eyes lit instantly when the topic shifted to his current project. “Those guys are awesome, Claire.” He raised his eyebrows and nodded to emphasize his point. “Hands down they are the best group of young people I've worked with since I started Praise Productions.”

“Have you told them that?”

“No way,” he chuckled his response. “They're cocky enough without throwing kerosene on that fire. No, I want them to keep working as hard as they have this past week so this CD will be primo in every way. Then the next step will be to score a trustworthy manager who can take them professional.”

R.C. stretched and purred as Luke began to scratch the cat's head. Tripod grumbled and stood to nudge Luke's shoulder. “These fellas are spoiled. You're going to have a hard time finding families to care for them the way you have.”

“I was thinking the same thing about the Sons,” she mused. “I can step in as a sponsor but there's nobody at Abundant Harvest who can fill your shoes. What do bands do after you're gone, Luke?”

An odd look of sadness flickered across his face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I'm sorry to say I've never dwelt too much on
that in the past. When I meet my obligations and it's time to leave, I pack my stuff and move on. What the band or the church does after that is their business and that's by design.” He stopped stroking the animals and leaned toward her.

“But this time I've given some thought to hanging around Houston a while longer. What do you think?”

L
uke continued to stroke the soft tabby cat when what he really wanted was to run his hand through the many shades of Claire's silky blond hair. Her eyes had softened to the color of melted brown sugar when he'd mentioned staying longer and now the endearing smile on her soft lips told him she was pleased.

“Oh, Luke!” she squealed, sending all three animals scurrying. Instead of rushing to comfort her foster pets she twisted up onto her knees, laid her hands on either side of his face and planted an impetuous kiss directly on his mouth. “That would be wonderful,” she breathed. “You know the Battle of the Bands is based in Houston and I bet you could find full-time employment with them.”

“Wait—wait—wait a minute,” he stammered. “I'm just thinking about staying a few weeks longer, not permanently.”

The force of his words was water on a campfire, drowning her enthusiasm. As the moment of excitement slipped from her face, his gut twisted with remorse for giving voice to his thoughts. If it was painful just to talk about leaving, how much worse would it be when the time came?

“Claire, I love my work,” he tried to explain. “God put me on this path as a mission and I don't know where He's leading me. Maybe this is my destination, I can't say right now. But I won't build expectations or make promises I can't keep. You know that about me already.”

The muscles in her slender jaw flexed and she clenched her teeth as if holding back words that fought to be free. Her eyes telegraphed a mixture of sadness, anger, defiance and embarrassment—all signals that only served to puzzle him more.

He knew in his soul that her unconscious act of touching his face and kissing him had been a leap of faith on her part. Now his heart agonized because he couldn't make promises to her.

She began to pull away.

“No,” he insisted. He placed his hands over hers and held her soft palms to his cheeks, a tender touch he hadn't known in many years. “Don't go. Kiss me again.”

Where she'd been exuberant with confidence only moments before, now her eyes clouded with hesitation.

“Please,” he whispered. “Kiss me again.”

He lightened his hold on her hands, giving her control. Expecting she still might back away, he breathed a sigh of contentment when she slipped her hands around his neck and cupped his head. She dipped her face to his and took his mouth in a hesitant kiss.

Claire ended the moment with a giggle as Tripod poked them with his wiry muzzle, a jealous attempt to separate their embrace. Luke draped his arm over the edge of the sofa making a space for her to sit beside him.

“Don't give up on me.” Their eyes locked and understandably, there was confusion in hers. “I mean it,” he insisted. “Don't give up on me. I want whatever this is. But I made so many stupid mistakes early in my life, so now I try to take it slow and listen for God's voice. And He's telling me there are unsettled things in your life, too. I'm a pretty good listener if you wanna talk.”

Claire's pride was still smarting from humiliation. The first overture she'd ever made to a man and it was almost a disaster. She wanted to laugh out loud at the irony. Claire Savage, the queen of preparation and timing, jumping the gun. Making a fool of herself once a day was enough, otherwise she might have risked telling him everything. He'd said he sensed something, said he was a good listener. But could he really understand the pain of wrestling an inner demon every day of his life?

She exhaled a deep breath and began. But instead of exposing her painful childhood, she poured her concerns out about her decision to switch careers, going toe-to-toe with the established dealers in a decidedly male-dominated industry. In response to his thoughtful questions, she even disclosed the nature of her financial risk. She studied the books every day and knew her worth as well as her debt to the last penny. The building was mortgaged to the skies but there was plenty of equity in the business to expand down the road.

So much of her future hinged on the success of the dealership and the Southern Savage in particular. She'd taken a calculated gamble knowing the odds were against her. But she'd been on the losing side of life before and she was still standing. If worse came to worse, with God's help she'd survive again.

After Luke had gone, she sat on the leather sofa surrounded by her pets, breathing in the manly scent that lingered. She examined her heart over and over and there was no denying it. Luke Dawson was getting under her skin. She'd touched his face and kissed him, more than once. He'd asked her not to give up on him. They'd shared some details of their dreams. But he couldn't promise he'd stay.

“Father God,” she prayed aloud. “If it's Your perfect will for our lives, please show me that Luke's a
man I can trust with my heart. And if he is I promise I won't make the same mistake Mama did and let him leave without a fight.”

 

A small fear had nagged Luke for days. What right did he have to ask a beauty like Claire Savage to wait on a man like him while he stumbled through his maze of feelings? She had life by the tail and any man would be a fool to expect her to sit patiently for very long. Since the morning he'd signed the papers to officially incorporate Praise Productions, there had never been a doubt that his life's purpose was to be on the road, working with young people, doing what he could to give them the right start.

But two nights ago, Claire's mention of a possible association with Houston's Battle of the Bands had begun to stir an idea he might never have considered on his own. Now, like Freeway with a forbidden leather shoe, Luke quietly chewed on the idea that had filled a dozen pages in his notebook. The kids would come to him. He could audition them during the weeks of the competition and then work up his recording schedule a year at a time. If he found the right local studio to partner with he should be able to make ends meet and still keep his rates low.

And he'd be with Claire.

Luke paused from the chore of rolling cabinets filled with equipment across the parking lot from the
trailer to the sanctuary. The recording date was a little more than a week away. Tonight was a practice run-through and he had plenty of time left to set up for the drill.

He leaned an elbow atop a stack of amps and rested his chin on his hand as he studied the skyline in the distance. In the few hours he and Claire had shared since their evening alone, they'd constantly been surrounded by their Abundant Harvest family. He was anxious for more. Simply being near her wasn't enough. He wanted to explore a future with her.

“Lemme give you a hand with that,” Zach called as he loped across the parking lot.

“Knock yourself out,” Luke agreed, and let Zach do the pushing as they headed for the side entrance. “Why aren't you at work?”

“The lunch crowd was light today so they let me off. Thought I'd get in some practice while the church is empty.”

“Good idea. I know it gets crazy with so many people around.”

“Speaking of crazy, Dana told me she talked to you about that nut case, Nicole.”

Luke scowled at the thoughtless comment, but knew it was exactly what he'd have said at that age. “Yes, she did, and I went straight to Pastor Ken.”

Zach scowled and squeezed his eyes shut. “Aww, man! Why'd you do that?”

“Because if you're a responsible adult working on church property, that's what you're expected to do when a young person could be in trouble.”

“I'm not in trouble,” Zach insisted.

“But Nicole could be. A girl who makes comments about lopping off somebody's finger for a keepsake is definitely in need of attention.”

“Oh, just ignore her. If she shows up again I'll handle it.”

“How?” Luke pressed.

“I'll tell her to get lost. I'm tired of having her around anyway.”

Luke grabbed the handle of the amp case, yanked it free from Zach's grasp and pushed it himself.

“Hey! Why'd you do that?” Zach stopped to stare at Luke.

“Because I'm too busy to put up with you today.” Luke turned his back on the boy and continued to muscle the heavy equipment across the asphalt.

“But it's my turn. That's why I'm here early,” Zach admitted, his voice rising an octave from the sting of Luke's words. “Luke?” Zach took three quick steps and grabbed his mentor by the arm.

Luke shook off the boy's grasp and ignored the gleam of rejection in his eyes. “Do I need to talk slower so you can understand, Zach? I'm sick of you constantly being under my feet, so get lost.” He continued toward the building, not looking back. When he reached the security door he punched in the pass
code and pulled it wide. After he'd maneuvered the cabinet through the opening he turned toward the spot where Zach still waited. His arms hung limp at his sides and his shoulders slumped. He stared at his feet and for once his shaggy head wasn't tilted back with pride.

“So,” Luke raised his voice. “How does it feel?”

“Huh?” Zach's head popped up.

“That's what you planned to tell Nicole, right? So how does it feel to be blown off by somebody you like?”

“Oh, I get it.” Zach's smile was back in place as he hurried to catch up. “You were just scammin' me.”

“Wrong answer, dude. Now think back thirty seconds if you can remember that far and tell me how you felt.”

“Like pond scum.”

“Good.” Luke nodded, glad to know he'd gotten through to Zach. “Jesus said ‘What you do to the least of these you do to me.' So try to remember that, too, before you make somebody feel like they're not wanted.”

“So, what am I supposed to do if Nicole shows up again tonight?”

“Be kind to her and if she forces the issue tell her very respectfully that you're not interested. And leave the rest to me and Claire.”

A sly smile curved Zach's lips. “You wouldn't be a little sweet on Miss Claire, would ya?”

“Mind your own business,” Luke snapped.

Zach laughed. “Yeah, we're on to you two.” He continued to press his luck even though Luke slipped into his practiced angry glare. “Hey, it's cool. Miss Claire's a babe. Go for it, man.”

Luke gave the boy a lighthearted shove into the building and pulled the door shut behind them.

 

Claire clapped in time with the drumbeat, amazed along with everyone else that over the past week the Harvest Sons had completely transformed their style. Luke's skills for coaching and musical arrangement were evident in the band's new sound. Their self-confidence had blossomed thanks to the encouragement and guidance that had been added to their lives since the arrival of Luke Dawson.

His grouchy act was slipping. The tender heart of a Christian man beat beneath that ever-present black T-shirt. He cared about the Sons, the Abundant Harvest community and, Claire believed, he cared about her, too.

More importantly, the kisses she'd initiated had been glimpses of the breakthrough she'd prayed for. Finally, the closeness of a man didn't repulse her or intensify her dark dreams.

Nicole Arnold tugged at the shirt that was two sizes too small to cover her abdomen. The girl's
low-slung jeans were indecently tight, especially for a church activity. But there were few restrictions on the youth that would discourage participation. Word was out that the Sons were producing a CD, so the Friday night practice was packed with high schoolers who'd normally be at the mall or movie theater. Another testimony to the power of contemporary Christian music.

The set ended, the lights came up and the guys held court in front of the stage, enjoying the attention and well-deserved praise. Claire watched the control booth for some sign of Luke. Her chest tingled with an unfamiliar flutter that she could only presume came from being attracted to a man. She experienced a breathless sensation each time she remembered his mossy green eyes or handsome smile.

The red “recording” light went dark, signaling that he'd be out shortly. She edged through the crowd of youngsters, stopping when she reached the spot where Nicole chewed her fingernail and waited for her turn to congratulate Zach.

“Weren't they great?” Claire spoke casually to the girl.

“Oh, hi, Miss Claire.” Nicole barely took her eyes off her idol long enough to acknowledge the greeting. “Yes, Zach was awesome.”

“I'm glad to see you back tonight because I wanted to ask you for some help.”

Nicole turned surprised gray eyes to Claire. “Me?” She continued nibbling her nail.

“Sure.” Claire laughed at the girl's disbelief. “We're looking for some summer help down at Savage Cycles and you've been around here so much lately I thought you might have time for a job. You interested?”

The young face brightened with enthusiasm and her hand fell to her side as she abandoned the nervous habit. Claire was reminded of pageant contestants who bit their nails bloody all week long and then applied acrylic to hide the telling damage on stage. She was grateful that Luke had included her in this plan to find Nicole a positive interest to occupy her mind.

“Wow, yes!” She jumped at the offer. Then a frown of worry crossed her face. “I'm kinda broke right now. Would I have to have new clothes for work?” she asked, tugging at her top again.

“Don't worry, your jeans are fine and we've got some great T-shirts. We'll give you several in the right size to wear for work.” Claire draped her arm around the girl's shoulders and gave her a side squeeze. “You'll fit right in.”

The gratitude in Nicole's eyes lodged a lump in Claire's throat. Helping this teen overcome her awkward fears and the intense need to belong was better than a month of therapy. For both of them.

“Be there at seven tomorrow morning, and ask for
Justin. He'll need an hour to get you organized before we start inventory at eight.”

“No problem.” She beamed at the prospect of employment.