Uncensored Passion (Men of Passion) (27 page)

“I kinda figured that out.”

“And we both know how passionately Kayla loves. She doesn’t let go easily. In fact, I don’t think the words ‘letting go’ are in her vocabulary. I’ve tried to talk to her about him a couple of times, and she can’t do it. She just starts crying. Damn! I could strangle that man.”

Lee nodded. “Yeah, me, too. But at least somebody kicked his butt. Do you think that crazy doctor is going to send someone to hurt Kayla?”

“I won’t be taking any chances. I’ve upgraded the security system and am probably going to get a couple of bodyguards, although, the more I think about it, the more I don’t believe Romano will come after Kayla. If he was, he would have made his move by now. Maybe he’s taken out his bent for revenge on Trey Cameron and will just let it go now.”

“Hope you’re right. I wouldn’t want to go away and something happen here. I’d never forgive myself.”

“Things will be fine here, Lee. You go and do that benefit.”

With a sigh, Lee said, “All right then, I will. Well, guess I’d better get on over to the restaurant, it’s getting late.”

* * *

Sitting on his bed, Luke began picking out a tune. He discarded the first idea and tried another, more soulful and melodramatic to fit the occasion. Three days had gone by and so far, he hadn’t nailed it. That illusive, tingling feeling of the song coming together in such a way that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was perfect, just had not struck him.

He closed his eyes to try and visualize what would be a good marriage of lyrics and melody. The main thing was presenting a lyrical picture of the tragedy of childhood cancer and early death, without being too morbid—just enough to pluck the heart strings and offer hope for a better life, if not here, then in the hereafter.

As he looked out his bedroom window, a sudden gust of wind gently swayed the old weeping willow tree at the edge of the rose garden. Faintly he heard the sounds of the neighbor’s children playing next door—those sounds caught up and wafted to him on the breeze. From behind closed eyes, he visualized himself crippled, lonely, and unable to participate in the life that every child deserves. At that moment, the words and mental picture of the song came to him, and he began to sing—his eyes still closed—pouring his heart into every word.

“He saw them running by his window on their way to the park

And he wondered if those kids knew just how lucky they are

Running in real time was something he’d never do again

But at night, in his dream world, he ran like the wind.

“He never grew tired, he never slowed down

It was like his feet never touched the ground

Victory was close, as he reached for God’s hand

And heard Him whisper, run my son, run like the wind.

“Pain was something he had lived with for way too long

When he came close to giving up, he still soldiered on

Mostly because he couldn’t stand to see his mother cry

‘til he finally heard her say, it’s all right, just close your eyes.

“Go where you’ll never be tired, never slow down

Where your feet will never touch the ground

Your victory is close, reach out and grab God’s hand

And run, my sweet son, run like the wind.

Swallowing hard, the image of a child’s spirit being freed to run at last embedded behind his closed eyes as Luke sang the tag.

“With the wind at his heels, with God holding his hand

Like never on earth, in heaven, he ran like the wind.”

Clearing his throat, Luke put the guitar down and swiped at his eyes. For the first time he had chill bumps after writing a song. He said a silent thank-you prayer and went to find Harm and Lee.

“Hey, guys, listen to this. It just came to me, kind of like a gift. Tell me if you think it’s good enough, Lee, as an opening act for your speech.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already written it! You’ve only been at it for a few days.”

Luke shrugged. “Well, maybe it’s just a bad quickie song. And maybe not. I call it ‘Ran Like The Wind.’ Let me know, and be honest now.”

They both agreed to be brutally honest.

Luke sat down, played a hauntingly touching musical intro and then began singing, soulfully soft, putting his heart into it. When he had finished, they both stared at him in disbelief. Lee swallowed back tears. Harm, less sentimental, just grinned at him nodding.

“Well?”

“Man, you
are t
alented. That song says it all, and it will touch a lot of people. I’m proud of you, Luke,” Lee said. “If you can do that in a few days, what could you do if you devoted your full time to writing?”

“It’s great,” Harm agreed. “If that doesn’t strike some hearts and open some pocketbooks, nothing will.”

“Glad you think so. Like I said, it was a gift.”

Kayla walked in and asked, “What was a gift? What are you guys talking about?”

Luke shot a quick glance at Harm, the question obvious—is it too much of a tearjerker to let her hear it, in the state she’s been in? Harm understood Luke’s apprehension.

Lee had explained about the benefit and the fact that he had decided to participate and Luke was going to be his opening act, that he had now written a song about sick kids, from their point of view.

“It’s a great song, Kayla,” Harm said.

“I can’t wait to hear it. Sing it, Luke.”

So Luke sang it again and when he’d finished, tears were running down Kayla’s face.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Kayla.”

“Oh, Luke, that’s so beautiful. You have too much talent not to be putting it out there. After you sing that song on stage, to a nationwide audience, I have a feeling people will be calling you. This will be just the beginning for you. I know it.”

Luke, always shy and self-effacing, didn’t comment on that. He just smiled, pleased that they had liked what he knew was probably the best song he’d ever written, in the shortest amount of time.

CHAPTER 26

Fate—fickle and turbulent

Hearing the deafening applause, Luke was the happiest he’d been in a long time.

Everyone was congratulating him backstage, saying they couldn’t wait to buy a copy of the song. Then someone who said he was a representative of a major record label gave him his card and said he should call after the benefit so they could discuss recording that song and launching his career.

Luke thanked him, thinking,
man, “Ran Like The Wind” might even become the theme song for the children’s hospital advertising campaign. That would be great.

When Lee joined him, Luke was beaming. He told him what the man had said.

“I’m not surprised, Luke. Told you it was great. You just haven’t given yourself enough credit, man. This is just the start for you. Now, aren’t you glad I talked you into participating in this telethon? So, get ready. You’re going to be a big star.”

“And Lee, that speech you gave about sick children soldiering on with brave hearts and indomitable spirits was really something. There wasn’t a dry eye in the auditorium. Don’t know if you realized it or not, but I noticed the bank of phones set up behind you for phone-in donations and they were ringing off the hook. Hell, we did good, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“You know, about that record deal and maybe things working out in the music business for me—well, it’s great and all, but I don’t want to mess things up with Kayla and you guys.”

“What’re you talking about, man? How can becoming an overnight sensation and a star mess things up? Sure, you might have to be gone a lot, but hey, I’ll take your place on the rotation schedule,” Lee said laughing, giving him a soft punch on the shoulder.

“Sure, you will.” Luke grinned back.

They left the benefit laughing and joking. They took a taxi to their hotel, grabbed a bite to eat, then talked well into the night, both too excited and pleased with the outcome of the benefit to sleep.

The next morning they prepared to board their early flight back to Nashville. Overnight the weather had turned gloomy. Dark clouds rumbled through the sky, rain battered down in windy gusts, and a possible tornado was predicted.

Luke, who didn’t like to fly anyway, was struggling with the feeling that they shouldn’t get on the plane. “Maybe we should wait for better weather, Lee. We could reschedule.”

“Don’t sweat it, man. We’ll climb above the storm.”

“I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about it.”

Lee patted his shoulder.

“I know you hate to fly. But just think about getting home and giving Kayla a blow-by-blow description of our fabulous evening, complete with the promised record deal. Concentrate on that and not the weather.”

Reluctantly, Luke followed Lee onto the plane and took his assigned window seat. He glanced out as the plane took off, his view obscured by the slashing rain. The sky was illuminated with a series of lightning flashes that made him shiver. The premonition that wouldn’t let go seemed to cover him like a black blanket as he gripped the armrest.

Lee noticed and said, “Relax. Maybe you should just close the shade.”

“Huh? The shade?”

“The window covering. Don’t look out the window. We won’t be in the air long. We’ll be on the ground before you know it, Luke.”

Luke took a deep breath, trying to focus only on good things. Getting back home. Seeing Kayla and Harm. Reporting how great it all went. He leaned back, closed his eyes and visualized himself on stage, at another concert venue, the record deal in the bag. With everything in him, he fought against the bad feeling that still gnawed at him.

Nothing bad is going to happen. We’ll be home soon.

But the tight feeling in his gut was strong, almost palpable. When the plane dipped dramatically and the pilot said for all passengers to please remain seated, to fasten their seat belts because they were running into heavy turbulence, even Lee looked unsettled.

As the plane made another unexpected dip, Luke silently reassured himself,
it's going to be all right. Fate’s been on my side. Surely it wouldn’t go AWOL now.

When the plane lurched again, Luke recalled a buddy’s comment about fate being fickle. Luke swallowed hard, mentally adding,
yeah, fickle and turbulent.

* * *

Harm was at the airport, waiting to pick them up. Although he had read that the telethon had been a smash, he was eager to hear their version of how things had gone. He was wishing Kayla had felt like coming with him to pick them up, as he glanced at his watch for the umpteenth time. He wasn’t so much concerned as irritated that the plane was thirty minutes overdue. Yet knowing how flights were sometimes delayed, especially in bad weather, he didn’t think anything of it.

But when he and an anxious group of waiting people inquired about its being so late after another thirty minutes, he was told by a pale-faced man behind the information desk who had just received the news, that the plane was off the radar, that it was thought to have had gone down, and further news would be released as soon as possible.

The crowd swelled. Alarmed exclamations and a few hysterical cries rang throughout the waiting area.

Shocked, Harm sank to a chair.

No! They can’t be dead. Please God, don’t let them be dead.

In a few minutes, the stunned crowd waiting for their loved ones was given the official bad news that the plane inbound from Memphis to Nashville had indeed gone down in the storm, and the number of survivors was undetermined.

Harm felt sick to his stomach. He knew the news media would be all over the story. Not wanting Kayla to be alone when she saw it, he rushed out and headed back home.

When he pulled into the garage and switched off the engine, Harm sat shaking, wondering how he would break the news to Kayla. Remembering the way he had urged Luke and Lee to go on the trip, he felt overwhelmed by guilt, feeling responsible for the deaths of his best friends. Then, shaking his head in denial, he whispered, “No! They aren’t dead. I won’t think that.”

Kayla met him when he opened the door from the garage. Smiling, she was ready to tell Luke she had watched the telethon and loved his song and knew everybody else did, to tell Lee that he had done a great job and she was proud of them both.

But it was only Harm who entered, and the stark look on his white face silenced her for a moment. When she could manage to find her voice, she asked, “Harm, what’s wrong? Where are Lee and Luke?”

“Kayla, maybe you’d better sit down.”

“What—what’s happened?”

Fighting back a surge of emotion, Harm’s voice was barely above a whisper as he said, “Their plane went down, Kayla. The airline hasn’t released the names of survivors or—or victims yet.”

Shaking her head, Kayla sagged against him. He picked her up and carried her to the den sofa.

“Turn on the news, Harm.”

He switched the TV on and they watched the news bulletin, saw pictures of the scattered debris, and heard the announcer say, “Miraculously, it has been reported to the media that there are, indeed, ten survivors. But all are critical and no names have been released as yet.”

Kayla fainted. Harm laid her back on the sofa and went to get a cold cloth for her head. Choking back a raw surge of emotion, he lifted her, held her, rocked her back and forth as she came to and stared at him in stunned disbelief, sobbing out, “This can’t be happening, Harm. First J.J. trying to commit suicide and losing touch with reality and—and now Luke and Lee gone! Why? Why?”

Harm shook his head, unable to speak at that moment. They cried together.

* * *

In San Antonio, Trey and Jerry had just switched the TV on when the news bulletin of the plane crash flashed on the screen. A leggy blonde wearing a rain slicker and buffeted by heavy winds was reporting in front of a backdrop of a broken fuselage and scattered debris across a field alive with a myriad of rescue vehicles and emergency workers.