His relaxed smile surprised her. “You always have a choice, Candi. Hospital or not, I could have gotten alcohol any time I wanted it. But I didn’t want it. I made a conscious decision there, flat on my back, and cried out to God for help. That decision was to quit. I wasn’t healthy, I wasn’t happy; I wasn’t productive despite what my career indicated. I was just a drunk.”
“Do you ever want a drink, now?”
“I had my rough days. Not so much anymore. And I know it sounds corny, but the whole one day at a time thing is true. It’s a daily choice. And a daily miracle.”
She nodded, but knew she didn’t fully understand the horror of addiction, or the struggle to overcome it. Having never been there, she never would.
“The worst is behind me,” he continued, “and as the fog cleared in the hospital, I found I had other reasons to be free of alcohol.”
“What other reasons?”
“How much longer will we be in the car?”
“We’ll be getting off the interstate in a couple miles, and then it’ll take a few more to get to the church.”
“Need more time. I’ll explain later over coffee.”
She blew out a breath. “You’re assuming the bottomless taco bar is a worthy substitute for dinner.”
“No, I’m assuming since you didn’t really agree to go out with me and wouldn’t let me pick you up at your house—not to mention your total disdain for the leather vest—that you’ll be anxious for this evening to be over. I’m taking what I can get.”
She felt that stupid grin coming on again and had to physically put her hand on her face to scrape it off. “Let’s see how it goes.”
“Next question. Make it one that’ll take only a few miles to answer.”
“What happened with the band after the accident? How did Dead Lizard Highway come apart and how did you end up here?”
“Uh...with Pete gone and me laid up for months, everything stopped. There were five of us in the band. Spider Monkey and Tom came to see me regularly about—”
“Wait a minute,” she interrupted. “Spider Monkey?”
“Yeah, we called him that because he’s skinny and has these long arms that look like they’d be good for climbing trees like a monkey.”
She held up her hand to stop him. “Never mind. I don’t need to know. Go on with your story, but
oh
! Take this exit and make the first right at the light.”
“Anyway, Spider Monkey and Tom came to see me all the time. They fully expected we’d eventually get it back together. Our bass player, The Rodrunner, never did come to grips with Pete’s death. Little by little they disappeared, and I knew I couldn’t put myself back in the middle of that lifestyle if I hoped to start over.”
“Excuse me, did you mean The
Road
runner?”
“No. It’s Rodrunner. His name is Rodney and he’s really fast. It’s a modified nickname.”
“Moving on,” she said with a smirk, “this may come as a shock, but I didn’t follow Dead Lizard Highway.”
He looked her way with an arched brow. “You don’t say...”
“So,” she continued, “you’ll have to explain it to me. I know you had CDs out and toured a lot, but how close were you to breaking out?”
“Honestly? We were regionally very hot, and nationally were opening for some of the best bands out there. We were close to going worldwide. We had some great people working for us, a great manager and promoter, people like that. We were going to make it.”
Candi let out a long quiet sigh of relief. He said
great
manager and promoter. Pretty obvious he didn’t know her dad.
“Take a left at the gas station,” she said and pointed. “And when you got over the physical injuries you came here?”
“Yeah. Something like that. There was physical therapy and some loose ends to tie up in Austin, but yes, my parents are in this area so I came home. Then I found Cornerstone and you know the rest.”
“Take the right at that tree stump,” she instructed, “and I have one more skinny question.”
“Shoot.”
“I overheard Kevin and Max talking about how long their hair was getting and how they weren’t going to get it cut. You have anything to do with that?”
“Not technically.”
“Max’s hair is thick and curly, Shade. He’s beginning to look like a circus clown. And Kevin has a huge forehead. He needs his bangs to
stay
bangs to keep that thing under wraps.”
“What are you, the hair police?” Shade laughed. “It’s
their
hair.”
“You’re no help.” She crossed her arms and stared out the window. “You should see the barn anytime, now. Park in the grass wherever you can.”
Shade followed a couple other cars through the metal gate and into a giant field. As unaccepted first dates went, it was going pretty well.
She’d shown up, told him where to go and how to get there, and then hinted he should help her do something about how other people wear their hair.
Typical control freak Candi. He liked her, anyway.
Under that bossy and distant exterior, she was a warm and intelligent woman who, deep down, wanted to do right by everyone. Her genuine concern for his struggles had always been evident, even from the start when she had no interest in him for the worship team. Her continued desire to understand him better warmed his heart, though he knew as complicated women went, she was more complicated than most. She clung to her friends at church, yet he’d bet his last dime she’d never shared with them the truth about her father. And why would she? It was a jarring secret that, even to him, came in shocking waves after he’d first realized it at the pond and then spent a long, sleepless night connecting the family dots. His chest hurt for her when he thought about it.
Fiercely private control freak Candi. She ruled her little corner of the world with strength and determination, yet he’d seen her revert, for a moment, to childlike and carefree wonder at the pond.
Somewhere in between was the woman who made him feel grounded because of her faith. That was the woman he was going to kiss goodnight.
The car lurched as the left wheel dipped into a hole and popped back out. “Max doesn’t need to know about this, OK?”
Candi smiled. “Know about what?”
He took the first spot at the end of the row. It would be dark soon and he had a feeling no floodlights came on to illuminate the cow pasture.
“Can you pop the trunk, please? I want to put my purse in there.”
“Sure, but here, let me do it and come around to let you out. Need to make sure there are no surprises for you to step in.”
She hesitated.
“Hand it over,” he said. “I’m not gonna look inside between here and the trunk and find all your girly secrets.”
The expression on her face as she handed him the purse was amusing beyond all expectations. First her eyes widened, then softened into a melted-butter kind of warmth he was sure she usually reserved only for kittens and dark chocolate. By the time he opened her door and offered his hand to help her walk through the bumpy field, he’d achieved guaranteed entrance into the Chivalry Hall of Fame.
As promised, it was a big metal barn. Scattered folding chairs and an assortment of picnic and card tables dotted the wide concrete floor, and halfway decent speakers hung on each heavy beam along the walls. Students in their late teens and early twenties milled in every available space and corner while ambitious young musicians tuned their instruments and made last minute adjustments to their sound board. In the corner, someone knelt and plugged a heavy duty extension cord into the wall and an explosion of criss-crossed Christmas lights came on overhead.
Candi elbowed him and pointed at the ceiling. “That’s new.”
He gazed at the giant mirror ball that hung from the middle support beam. “I don’t know what to say...”
“Sometimes words are not adequate,” she said and giggled.
Several people in the room either waved or somehow acknowledged her presence.
“Do you know all these people?”
“No. I think a lot of them recognize me from church or school or from when I was in college here, but they don’t really know me.
You’re
more likely to be recognized here than I am. Exactly what is the protocol for dating a Dead Lizard? Should I have a pocket full of permanent markers so you can sign autographs?”
“I’m an
ex
-Dead Lizard, and you’re not funny.”
“Listen, it’s about to get loud in here, so let me tell you the taco bar is down where that big crowd is. If you want to get something to eat, I’ll go see if I can get a flyer about who’s here and meet you at that orange picnic table in the back.”
“What can I get you?”
“Diet cola.”
“How many tacos?”
“No tacos. I’ll get something wherever we go later.”
He stepped back. “I can wait, too. I’m not gonna eat without you.”
“No, it’s OK. I don’t want you to miss Mama Lupita’s homemade tortillas. I’ll eat with you later.”
The scent of melting cheese and fresh jalapeños wafted through the air. He’d never been so torn between being a gentleman and being a pig. “I can wait.”
“Here’s the truth.” She stepped closer. “You ready?”
He nodded. Somewhere in the room, Mama Lupita sliced an onion. He could smell it.
“Now pay attention.” Her smile was demure as she batted her lashes. “My mama always said a gently bred southern lady
never
, under any circumstances, eats a burrito on a date. Especially a first date.”
“It’s a taco.”
“Same difference. Now go. Eat all you want. I don’t mind.”
She disappeared into the crowd, leaving him no choice. He
had
to eat tacos.
By the time he made it to the table, a band had already started. He scooted onto the bench beside her with his plate, a wad of napkins, and two cans of soda.
“Where are the tacos?” she shouted over the music.
“Got stopped a couple times,” he shouted back. “Ate some on the way.”
“Good, aren’t they?”
“What?”
She shook her head. “Nevermind. Too loud.”
Shade finished what was on his plate and tossed his trash into a barrel nearby. Some seemed to be enjoying the band. He wasn’t sure how.
Candi tugged on his sleeve and leaned in to share the flyer with him. “I’ve never heard this group,” she shouted to the side of this head, “and I don’t recognize anyone else on the list.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t as if
he
knew anybody. “I don’t either. And I don’t think this song has an end.”
“What?”
She swung her leg around to free herself from the picnic table and pointed at the back door.
He followed her outside. She took a few steps and leaned against the metal wall.
“Better?” he asked.
“Hang on. My ears are still ringing.”
The scent of Mama Lupita’s tacos mingled with the cool night air. Crickets chirped in rhythm with the thumping bass of the band and, in the distance, he was sure he heard an owl.
“It’s not,” she said.
“Not what?”
“Not better.” She laughed. “I can still hear them.”
They walked along the side of the building, guided only by filtered beams that shone down from the floodlights at each corner.
“They weren’t that bad,” Shade said. “Individually they seemed to know what they were doing, but they weren’t playing as a group. There was no cohesiveness.”
“That could come in time,” she agreed, “but they’re inexperienced and haven’t learned that repetitive chord progressions do not necessarily make a song, and loud is not necessarily better.”
He slowed his steps when he realized they were getting further away from the sound, further away from the light. “Where we going, anyway?”
She took his hand. “C’mon, I want to show you something.”
Around the next corner, a pond came into view. The rays from a single spotlight on a pole illuminated the water.
“This explains all the croaking,” he said with relief. “I thought that band had burst my left eardrum, and I was hearing things.”
“I could catch one of those big ol’ bullfrogs.”
“And you could fall in the pond trying to do that in the dark.”
She tore her hand from his and hopped across a series of two-by-six boards and onto a narrow dock.
“Is that thing safe?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. C’mon out. I believe they use this pond for good, old-fashioned baptisms because this little church doesn’t have a baptistery.”
Shade studied the boards before he leaped. One false move and he could be accidentally participating in some kind of baptism of his own. Date over.
He stepped onto the pier and followed her to the end. She studied every ripple in the water and searched for every
kerplunk
from a hiding frog. “You’re just a country girl, aren’t you?”
She turned and rested her hands on her hips as she gazed up at him. “Yeah, I guess I am. And I really like the water.”
“Do you like the ocean, or just the country ponds?”
“Ponds...streams...lakes...babbling brooks...”
He always intended to kiss her tonight, but he’d planned to do it later when they said goodnight; after they’d had some more time together, after he’d told her everything about Rachel. But how was he supposed to resist her by a moonlit pond when everything in her expressive green eyes said she was glad to be there with him?
He couldn’t.
His lips caught hers in a tender embrace amidst a chorus of harmonizing bullfrogs, buzzing mosquitoes, and the bass line of the world’s worst band thumping in the distance.
Another sound crept into his brain. It was like a massive pipe organ playing Bach.
He stepped back. “What is that noise?”
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t go
near
those tacos.”
He burst out laughing. “No, it sounds like a cell phone. I don’t think we’re out here alone.”
She inclined her ear. “Oh.
Oh!
It’s
my
cell phone.” She rummaged in her pocket. “Normally I wouldn’t answer at a time like this, but that’s the pastor’s ringtone and he never calls me unless it’s urgent.”
She smashed the phone to her ear. “Hello? Yes?” She paced the width of the boards and paused to rest her hand on what was left of a broken rail. “When?” She paced back. “I’ll go by there and check on him and call you later...no, I want to. I’ll let you know.”