After the Rain Read online

  Ugh. Relentless.

  Still, my only friend.

  “Fine.”

  We came to a crosswalk. Paige had parked in a garage a block to the left, and my car was in an open parking lot just ahead. I felt nervous. Downtown Denver was fun but felt a little scary late at night. Paige asked one of the guys—Milo was his name—if he’d walk me to my car.

  “Absolutely,” Milo said, hanging back while the others crossed the street.

  “Thanks for walking me,” I told him.

  He nodded. “No problem whatsoever. I’m glad to do it.” He was just a couple of inches taller than me, with a nice smile and a really great sense of style. His blond hair reminded me of Luke. But nothing else. Luke was tall, serious. As we walked, Milo joked and teased—not Luke’s way at all. Still, I felt a ridiculous rush just walking alone with someone intent on protecting me. Another reminder to me that the level of rejection I’d felt from Luke had been intense, deconstructing who I felt I was.

  My loneliness reached deep and wide, but it felt safe. I listened and politely laughed when appropriate. We got to my car and Milo ensured that I was safe inside before waving and running off to join the others.

  I drove south, thoughts of the songs rushing through my head. When I got home, I looked up the band online and downloaded all eight songs that were available. Charged from the excitement of the night and not quite ready for sleep, I searched a couple of websites and jotted down notes for my celebrity gossip segment Monday, all while listening to songs by Twenty-Four Tears. Every now and then, images of the song leader invaded my mind. Ben adjusting the mic stand, that tattoo of his twisting down his arm. His eyes closed as his mouth moved over the microphone. His damp hair. The ease with which he strummed his guitar. The energy he carried with him onstage and off. And those light brown eyes, searching for my soul.

  When I finally lay down to sleep that night, song lyrics still ran through my mind.

  I was restless on my way,

  Nothing knew me.

  But when I stopped and had my say,

  You wouldn’t let go.

  Holding me like a prisoner,

  I can’t be me without you anymore.

  You’ve ruined us both.

  I dream of you, and you need me,

  Don’t pretend you don’t.

  Scars stretch over me, but I don’t care.

  Love come find me.

  I closed my eyes, rest overtaking me. Those lines haunting me. Ben’s smooth voice dancing in my head.

  I can’t be me without you anymore. You’ve ruined us both.

  Saturday morning, I woke early and went downstairs to the gym. Working out had never been my top priority, but after trying out a few of the elliptical machines one evening (all right, after I’d eaten a large supreme pizza completely by myself), I’d been hooked. Moving my body seemed to offer a small release to the pent-up aggression I’d been fighting off.

  My condominium building was fairly new, with modern decor (by that I mean a lot of abstract art and random sculptures that resembled either bricks or clownfish, and a wall fountain that made it sound as though it were constantly raining in the hallway). I liked the clean feeling of new carpet and freshly painted walls. Cream colors punctuated with colorful blue and green accents and all that.

  The gym was small but filled with top-of-the-line equipment, which didn’t matter to me since I had no intention of getting on anything more complicated than a stair-climber. The room, framed mostly by windows and mirrored walls, was empty when I entered. I jumped on the treadmill and concentrated on the feeling of putting one foot in front of the other. Once my pulse was racing and I couldn’t go any farther, I slowed down. I could feel each heartbeat.

  I sighed at the reminder that it was still there. My heart, I mean. Working for me. I’d thought it had shattered completely, but here I was, breathing, moving. Six months since Luke Anderson had broken up with me, snatching away my hopes and dreams for our happily ever after. Six months since the most dependable man I’d ever known had decided he didn’t love me anymore. Now he was dating one of my former friends. I knew he and Sara had been close—we all knew it—but when he’d assured me they were just best friends, I’d believed him.

  There was no doubt in my mind that they were headed straight for the altar. Maybe they were already engaged.

  That tall blond guy with the steady green eyes, with the chiseled jaw that begged to be kissed . . . that guy with the strong hands who felt both safe and exciting . . . that guy whom I could make laugh even when he was mad . . . he was supposed to be mine.

  I kept walking despite the burning sensation creeping up my legs. After an hour down in the gym, a shower, and a bowl of cereal, I ran into the issue that was now my life—time alone.

  Since Paige was my only friend and I’d seen her the day before and would be seeing her (assuming I didn’t back out) the next morning, I didn’t feel I could call her. Plus, she usually worked Saturdays.

  I was reminded again that a second friend to hang out with might be a good idea.

  After placing my cereal bowl in the dishwasher and wiping the kitchen counters, I put on comfortable walking shoes and grabbed my keys.

  As much as I’d liked Texas, the summers were brutal. Hot and even more humid than Minnesota. And the mosquitos! But summer in Colorado was near perfection. Hot but dry. The mountains reached across the western expanse, standing regally, meeting the sky. I almost couldn’t wait to see them covered in snow. Before the move, I’d been to Colorado once, last summer on a trip with Luke to meet his mom.

  Standing by a river way up near the mountains, where his mother lived, I’d told him I loved him for the first time. He’d just stared at me for a moment. Then he told me he loved me too and cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.

  The memory came, and I tried to quickly redirect my thoughts, knowing that those kinds of memories tended to stop me dead in my tracks like cement around my feet, making it too hard to move.

  On a clear day like this one, the mountain view was so beautiful that I wanted to be outside and just drink it in. I turned the radio up and drove west for about forty-five minutes, stopping at a little town closer to the mountains. I parked on the street and browsed touristy shops, then stopped at a café for a cappuccino. I sat at an old, rickety table for two on the sidewalk outside the café and breathed in the cool, fresh air. My sunglasses shielded my eyes as I watched people passing by, quickly, slowly, some in groups, others toting children, couples holding hands.

  Even though I was alone, being there amid people helped somewhat with the loneliness. I wasn’t part of them—the crowd—but I was close enough. I didn’t partake in the sounds of laughter and conversation, but they were all around me.

  My mind wandered to forbidden territory. Did Luke ever think about me? Had he asked Sara to marry him? Did she ever think about me? How could the two of them have hurt me so badly and then just moved on?

  What. About. Me.

  I left a tip on the table and started walking down the sidewalk, very slowly, in the direction of my car. The sounds of an acoustic guitar began floating on the air. By a large water fountain, a street performer was playing. People stopped to listen, throwing coins in his open guitar case. I stopped and sat on a bench near the fountain and watched the guy, with long dreadlocks and tattered clothing, playing with abandon. He didn’t sing. The music was his song.

  I hadn’t picked up my guitar since before Christmas.

  I closed my eyes and just listened, waiting to see if it would happen again. If the music moved me, even a little.

  How long did it take to come back to life once everything stopped? How long until acceptance seemed like the best course of action and a person would willingly choose it? How long would it take for me to be me again?

  I enjoyed the music, but my hands didn’t itch to touch my own guitar.

  Fear swept over me as I sat with my eyes closed. What if this was it for me? What if one devastating moment c
hanged who I was forever? There in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains, the bell-like sounds of a guitar ringing in my ears, I stood up and walked back toward my car. And on a sidewalk in a tiny mountain town where I knew absolutely no one, I could breathe. Far enough away that I was free from friends and family and questions and conversations. I didn’t have to answer text messages. I didn’t need to listen to voicemails. Emails went unanswered. No one was expecting me anywhere and I could do as I pleased.

  I’d thought I was free once. My mind drifted to those moments before I reined them back in. I could hear myself laughing, feel Luke’s arms around me, sense the rain weighing down my hair and soaking my shirt. Just a few months ago, there had been times when I’d thought I’d found my soulmate. I was home. Free to be myself and love completely.

  That sense of home turned out to be just a state of mind. And I learned that real freedom’s a lot less dreamy.

  But I planned to have it regardless.

  Chapter Two

  There are times I almost think I am not sure of what I absolutely know.

  The King and I

  Sunday morning, I dressed in all black. It was the only thing that felt comfortable to me. Black capris, a loose black top, and black sandals. My unmanageable hair seemed more unmanageable than usual, but it was too short to do anything with, so I just shook it back, put in a little product, and went with it. A few months before, I’d cut my massive mane of curly brown hair after . . . well, after it happened. But short curly hair proved to be just as unmanageable. Proof that this was not my year to catch a break in any way, shape, or form.

  Truly, I felt sick on the way to Paige’s church.

  But much like Percival’s, I needed to get this over with so she’d stop asking.

  A parking team directed me to a spot; just to be contrary, I ignored the person in orange waving his hand and drove closer to the door, where I found another spot. The last thing I needed was someone bossing me around before I even entered the building. I got out, took three breaths and told myself to pull it all together and be a grown-up, and marched in. There were people stationed at every corner, saying hello and smiling bright, even though I knew that in reality they couldn’t care less about me and would never see me again—pretend friendship.

  I knew the church drill and it wasn’t my thing anymore.

  Paige and I had agreed to meet directly in front of the sanctuary doors. There she stood, wearing a cute, long orange-and-navy skirt and leather belt, grinning and holding out a Lost Coffee cup. At least I knew her smile—her warmth—wasn’t fake. I accepted the coffee.

  “You’re still paying for brunch,” I told her, and her head bobbed up and down.

  “Of course I am! Let’s go in.”

  “I want to sit in the back.”

  She pretended not to hear and pulled me forward. “Milo is saving seats for us.”

  Well, she was going to make sure I absorbed every bit of this service. We walked down to the front. Paige hadn’t mentioned that her church was so huge. Milo waved at us from the left side of the second row. We got settled in our joined, padded seats, I said hello to Milo, and the worship music started. I turned off the ringer on my phone.

  “Sing with me, everybody. Let’s do this together.”

  My eyes darted upward to the stage.

  Brown hair, light brown eyes, a white collared cotton shirt, fitted khaki pants, white sneakers, and a tattoo swirling down his arm.

  Ben Price. His acoustic guitar strapped on, he raised his hands and clapped to the sound of the beat of the drum. The crowd clapped with him, following his lead. He started singing, calling the people to worship.

  I just watched. The congregation sat down after the second song for prayers and announcements and the usual stuff. I sneaked a look up at Ben and nearly choked when I saw him staring right at me.

  He’s not looking at me. People always think the pastor or whoever is looking at them, speaking directly to them, but they usually can’t even see them. No big deal.

  After the announcements, when Ben took the microphone again, he pointed at me and waved, really quickly.

  What in the world?

  Paige leaned close to me. “I think Ben’s waving at you,” she said, as confused as I was.

  “No, it’s the people behind me, I think.”

  Paige swung around to check and I poked her.

  I finally just smiled at him, hoping that was enough acknowledgment. It seemed to be, because he segued into the next song and everyone jumped back up.

  Church was nothing new to me. I knew the songs. Even the pastor—who, I later admitted to Paige, was a good speaker—read passages from the Bible that I’d read a hundred times, tying those passages to the same topics as usual.

  While the songs weren’t new, I enjoyed hearing Ben sing them. Like any good worship leader, he primed the audience, getting them ready to receive whatever it was the pastor wanted to teach them. He brought that same energy I’d seen onstage at Percival’s and what seemed to be authentic enthusiasm. The people responded to him. How could they not? He was a born performer. Dynamic smile, smooth voice, funny at moments, perfectly at ease in front of hundreds of people. But I knew from experience that performing well wasn’t quite the same as leading worship well. Ben managed both. The songs were obviously ones that the congregation enjoyed, judging by the number of voices joining in and hands lifted. Ben’s voice stayed steady and true, easy to follow and accompany. Several times he stepped back, allowing the backup singers to shine. He engaged the crowd and the worship team; I even found myself, nearly, singing along.

  Once the service was over, Paige and I walked out with Milo. The warm Colorado sunshine seemed to invigorate everyone. Lots of people in shorts and flip-flops milled about the lobby and sidewalk beyond.

  “I feel like I know you from somewhere, Deb,” Milo said, wagging his finger at me. “It’s like I know your voice.”

  “Debra and I are going to brunch. I was thinking The Egg and I,” Paige told Milo, tucking her phone in her purse after sending a text. She seemed to have missed what he’d said about thinking he knew me. “Want to join?”

  I bit my lip and nodded when Milo looked at me, eyebrows raised, possibly to see if I was okay with that, which I wasn’t, but whatever. He was nice enough. We had just reached the sidewalk when someone called my name. I turned around.

  Ben jogged up to us. “Hey there!” He smiled at me, shook hands with Milo, and then accepted the side hug Paige gave him.

  “We’re headed to brunch; can you come?” Paige asked.

  “Yeah, absolutely. What did you think of the service, Debra?”

  “I liked the music.”

  His smile reached his eyes. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  Everything felt familiar. Meeting friends at church, making lunch plans.

  Like Texas.

  I stepped back. “I don’t think I can make it, Paige, but thanks. I’ll text you for lunch this week.”

  Paige’s face fell. “What?”

  I hurriedly pulled my keys out of my purse. Paige stepped close to me and we turned away from the guys.

  “Deb, please come,” she said, her voice lowered. “It’s just brunch. Not a big thing. I want you to be there.”

  “Paige, I—I don’t think I can.”

  “You can,” she said gently. “I know the alternative is you going home alone, and maybe that sounds better, but it’s not really. You don’t have to talk much. Order some massive plate so you can just concentrate on eating.”

  I laughed at that, despite myself.

  “Look at this weather today. It’s too pretty to go home. Come with us. Be my friend. Let me be yours.” Paige reached down and squeezed my crossed forearm. “Come. Please.”

  A breeze blew back my hair; she was right about the weather.

  “I shouldn’t have invited the guys,” she said with regret. I squinted at her, against the sunlight, and I felt a twinge of guilt that now I’d made her feel bad. Behind her, I
could see Ben and Milo waiting, watching.

  “All right, I guess. I’ll meet you there.”

  She hugged me.

  I drove to The Egg and I, trying my best to ignore all the self-doubt that swirled through me. Once I got there, I saw Ben standing out front, waiting for me.

  “Thanks for waiting,” I told him as I walked up.

  He brushed that off. “My pleasure. Milo and Paige are at the table.”

  I followed him, suddenly hungry. Paige and Milo sat side by side in a booth—not what I would have picked, but I slid in and Ben sat next to me.

  I ordered waffles and listened to the three of them talk, contributing a little so I didn’t seem aloof and rude. No one pushed me to talk too much. Maybe Paige had warned them. I didn’t know or care, but I was thankful not to be pushed. Over Belgian waffles, maple syrup, and sausage, I learned that Ben and Milo and Paige had been friends for two years, ever since Ben had taken over the position of worship leader. Milo helped out with the sound system at church, and he and Ben had been instant friends. Paige volunteered a lot with different church events, and they’d all ended up becoming friends, along with the rest of the gang who’d been at Percival’s Friday.

  We divvied up checks and paid the bill—I refused when Paige tried to pay for me. She’d been right. Hanging out was better than being alone.

  Milo tucked his credit card back in his wallet and then snapped his fingers. “Miss Lonely Heart!”

  Inwardly I groaned.

  “I knew I recognized your voice.” He looked thrilled to have figured out the puzzle that apparently had been in his head. Ben looked at me in surprise.

  “Who’s Miss Lonely Heart?”

  “Debra is,” Paige supplied. “The morning show on KGBL.”

  “You’re on the morning show for KGBL?” Ben sounded shocked.

  “Yeah.” I scrawled my name on the credit card receipt.

  “Have you never heard the Miss Lonely Heart segment?” Milo asked.