Page 1 of The Prodigal Son

Prologue

Isaac

Nine years old

“Go ahead, Isaac,” my mom calls from the couch. “Your audience is ready.”

I’m hopping up and down nervously on my feet as my brothers, Luke and Caleb, mumble back and forth on the other side of the curtain. There’s a guitar in my hands, and I practice putting my fingers on the right strings to make sure I’m ready before walking through.

When a few more seconds go by, my brothers start cheering for me to encourage me, but it only makes me more nervous.

I feel stupid. What if they laugh? What if my dad hates it?

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?” I turn to find Adam kneeling down behind the makeshift stage—which is just my mom’s old curtains we draped over a string we tied from one banister to the other.

“I’m nervous,” I whisper.

He smiles, ruffling my hair. “Don’t be nervous. You’re a natural. I’ve heard you practicing in your room.”

“You won’t laugh at me?”

His face contorts as he looks at me with confusion. “I would never laugh at you.”

My biggest brother is a grown-up now. I miss when he lived here because out of everyone in the family, he’s always the nicest to me.

“They will,” I mumble. I can still hear Luke and Caleb bickering. I’m sure my mom is still waiting patiently and my dad is probably reading something on his computer or some papers from work. He’s always working.

I don’t know if they can hear Adam and me talking, but for some reason, I feel the urge to cry. Then Adam puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me toward him.

“Isaac, listen to me. We’re your family. Even if we do laugh sometimes, we’re not laughing atyou. The good thing about family is that we always take care of each other—no matter what. Okay?”

I take a deep breath. Sometimes, when I get nervous or scared, I just think about how confident and sure of everything Adam is. He’s never scared.

“Okay,” I reply, nodding my head.

“Everything all right back there?” my mother drawls sweetly.

Adam taps the front of my cowboy hat and winks at me before he crawls out from behind the curtain. Addressing my family seated in the living room, he says, “Trust me. It will be worth the wait.”

Instantly, my other brothers hush and the room goes quiet.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Adam announces. “For your listening pleasure, we have a real treat for you tonight. For a completely sold-out show, he’s here straight out of Austin, Texas, the best country singer this side of the Mississippi, our very own…Isaac Goode!”

My family starts to cheer. Luke and Caleb holler and woot as my mom whistles. Then, as soon as Adam draws the curtain open, my father bellows proudly, “That’s my boy!”

There are a few lights we borrowed from the church stationed around the living room, and they’re so bright they make me squint. As my family cheers, I smile so widely that I have to cover my face in embarrassment.

Caleb mimics the sound of a crowded stadium as Luke mouths,You got this.

Another deep breath.

Looking down at my guitar, I place my fingers on the right strings and start to strum. The first chord is off, and it sounds terrible.

“Wait, sorry,” I mumble uncomfortably.

“It’s okay,” my mom whispers.

Another deep breath.

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