Amazing Love. Mae Nunn

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      Luke worshipped with the congregation that evening from the privacy of the audio/visual booth. During the musical numbers, he observed the equipment and the young female volunteer whose hands moved capably across the dials and levers of the soundboard. The mixing capacity of the Praise Productions mobile unit would more than compensate for any lack of local technology.

      He’d gritted his teeth several times during the band’s amateurish performance, but silently applauded the contribution of each member. Shaggy-haired Zach paid too much attention to the girls in the front row. Even so, his drumming was impressive. You could tell he was holding back, itching to liven up the arrangements and break into a rock beat. Given the right musical vehicle he would wow a crowd.

      Chad was a prodigy at the keyboard. Luke was certain from the boy’s rigid stance that the teen had been classically trained. With encouragement to loosen up, the bespectacled youth would give any piano man a run for his money.

      Brian appeared to be the youngest in the group. Sullen and quiet, his bass was rumbling and low, soulful to the untrained observer. To Luke’s ear it was downright painful. The instrument begged to be tuned to pitch. But the boy had great hands and a keen sense of rhythm. He could be groomed.

      Then there was Eric, clearly the leader of the band, and Brian’s older brother. Luke swallowed to ease the tightness in his throat as he watched the boy that the others looked to as their spokesman. Eric lovingly cradled the custom figured Gibson Les Paul guitar like a treasured friend. The long fingers of his left hand wrapped the neck of the instrument while his right hand plucked a sweet melody from the six strings.

      Eric closed his eyes, communed with the instrument and seemed to feel the sound to his core. Luke’s heart ached for the enchanted pair as he recognized long buried parts of himself in the boy and the guitar.

      A sense of purpose he’d never felt before stole over Luke. As if the Holy Spirit whispered in Luke’s ear, he knew an unusual moment of being at peace.

      He’d made the right decision to seek out this kid. He could make a difference here.

      The service ended and worshipers streamed from the building as the evening crowd went home to their Saturday night routines. With lights blazing inside the sanctuary, Luke made his way down to the front of the nearly empty auditorium.

      Eric looked up from the business of snapping the lid on his guitar case.

      “What did you think, Mr. Dawson?”

      “Call me Luke, but don’t be so quick to pack up. We have serious work to do.” He glanced around at the others. “Any of you guys working tomorrow or playing for the early service?”

      “No, sir,” they chorused.

      “Good.” He held a set of church keys aloft and rattled them for emphasis. “We have a lot of ground to cover before we audition on Monday evening and Pastor Ken says we’re free to practice anytime the sanctuary is not reserved. I’m a natural night owl. Think you guys can keep up with me?”

      Four pairs of eyes flew wide. The suggestion that they hang around well after normal hours was obviously a novel one. They looked to Eric for a response.

      “Sure!” His head wagged agreeably.

      “Then y’all call your folks and get permission to stay late.”

      Luke would find out fast whether or not they were serious about their craft. If the band was willing to work, and work hard, he could take them to the next level and higher in a couple of intense weeks. When he handed over a master recording there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that Praise Productions had fulfilled the agreement.

      Claire couldn’t believe her ears. She’d already hung around hours longer than necessary just to keep an eye on things. She was singing at the early service and needed to go home to feed the animals, review a stack of spreadsheets and get a good night’s rest.

      She hurried to the main entrance and pushed the door wide in time to see the taillights of the pastor’s black pickup fade into the trees. He obviously trusted this guy to give him total access to the building. The door fell closed with a thud and five heads turned in her direction.

      They were a team. She was an intruder.

      “You’re still here.” Luke’s voice was flat, grouchy. He was not pleased.

      “Yes.” She searched for a reason to justify her presence. “I overheard you asking the guys to hang around and thought I might stay and offer my help. As Pastor Ken mentioned, I’ve had quite a bit of musical training myself.”

      Luke’s expression softened. He actually smiled.

      A charming smile. A lazy smile that ignited a spark of mischief in his eyes and caused her to pull in a deep breath to cover the odd beating of her heart.

      “Matter of fact, I would appreciate your help.”

      As he walked toward her he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a faded brown wallet. He plucked a twenty-dollar bill from the folded leather and held it toward her.

      “I saw a taco stand up the road. How about getting us all a hot meal and giving Freeway a quick walk around the parking lot? I can send one of the boys with you if you’re afraid to go alone,” he challenged.

      If being the gofer gave her a reason to stick around, so be it.

      “Sure, I’ll be glad to do that. But when I get back I thought we might be able to collaborate.”

      “Collaborate?” One dark eyebrow arched skeptically.

      “You know, offer one another assistance based on our musical backgrounds.”

      He cracked that lazy grin again and there was no denying it. Her heart definitely thumped double time.

      “I’m glad you brought up the subject of assistance, because you could use some work on that piece you were rehearsing. That arrangement is all wrong for your voice but I can give you some suggestions to get you through it if you want to stick around a while longer.”

      She snatched the twenty from his fingers and stuffed it into her purse.

      “Thanks, I’ll think about it,” she muttered as she spun about-face and stomped up the aisle. She heard the rumble of his laughter just before she pushed through the security door into the muggy night air.

      A Harvard MBA sent to fetch burritos. Miss Texas being asked to walk the dog. A guy she didn’t know from Adam criticizing her musical arrangement. If she weren’t so tired she’d indulge in a self-righteous hissy fit. She settled instead for slamming the door of her coupe a little harder than necessary.

      As the pony car approached the late night drive-thru, the mature businesswoman in her toyed with a teenage prank. Claire’s huffy mood evaporated and a grin crept across her face. If the newcomer was going to treat her like one of the kids he’d better be prepared to suffer the consequences.

      Chapter Three

      “And put extra jalapeños on those two super tacos, please.” Claire smirked at the giant piñata head that returned her grin blindly and bobbed its approval of her diabolical plan.

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