Page 32 of A Surefire Love
A vein protruded from Eric’s neck. “No one in the history of this church has reported to the school administration. The church is independent and its own authority.”
“God is the authority, and His concerns for justice go beyond what we do in this building. Carter and his friends set a bad example to the other students on the trip. And it wouldn’t be fair to my other athletes to turn a blind eye to an alcohol violation committed right in front of me. Teenage drinking has serious consequences, the least problematic of which are the ones issued by churches and schools.”
“Meaning what?”
“Kids die.” He felt sick just saying it.
Eric recoiled, then scoffed. “Kids act out. It’s up to the adults to respond well. Your actions only make it more likely that he’ll hide his behavior in the future.”
“He was already trying to hide it.”
At Anson’s quiet response, Eric backed toward the exit, but then paused. “With this attitude, I won’t have to worry about you much longer. You’ll never get the numbers, and that’s all the cause I need. And what will the school say when their star athlete doesn’t come back this year?”
Anson imagined they’d say good riddance. The principal wouldn’t give in to Eric’s bullying. Before his last conversation with Greg, Anson had had as much confidence in thechurch. Now, he could only pray for the strength to stand or fall by his convictions.
Forgetting something?
Blaze frowned at Marissa’s text. She left work a couple of hours ago, had dinner with Mercy, and … she jerked away from her computer. The Depot. How could she have forgotten her Monday night performance? Singing was the highlight of her week.
“Mercy! Are you ready?” Without saving the document she’d been filling out, she abandoned the desk in the living room and ran to the mud room. She snatched her purse from a hook. “We need to be there!”
A muffled reply sounded from the lower level.
Blaze jammed her feet into her shoes. She’d contacted the school’s recommended behavioral health department and set Mercy’s intake interview for Wednesday. They’d promptly sent a twenty-one-page new patient form. Blaze hadn’t realized she’d have that much paperwork to do in the next two days—or that she’d get so engrossed.
“Mercy?”
The girl clopped into the room, her blue purse in hand, a book under her arm, and shoes half on her feet. With a couple of shuffles, the backs popped up over her heels. “Ready.”
The girl knew the drill. They’d rushed out the door this way a million times.
Thirteen minutes later, Blaze waited in the wings as Philip finished a song. Her boss usually preferred to stay inthe background, but he had a more-than-passable singing voice. The crowd’s applause signaled their agreement.
He spotted her and leaned close to the mic once more. “And now, the singer I know you’ve all been waiting for. Give it up for Blaze Astley!” He waved his farewell and retreated to his usual spot as cheers—more enthusiastic than Blaze expected—welcomed her.
She closed her fingers around the mic. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
She strained against the stage lights to identify her outspoken fans. Over at her usual table, Sydney clapped along with the crowd. A couple of women sat with her. No Anson.
A swell of disappointment, followed by guilt, hardened her diaphragm. She forced a deep breath as the band started a song. She couldn’t pine after someone else’s man. Especially someone as kind and thoughtful as Sydney.
Two model citizens, when Anson and Sydney got married and had kids, they’d be the poster family for the American dream.
On her cue, Blaze came in. She’d sung the song dozens of times, so after a few bars, her thoughts returned to Anson.
Maybe she didn’t have feelings for him. Maybe what she really wanted was the kind of life he modeled. She wanted to be dependable, do more in the community, stay on top of things, and not have to scramble every day of her life. She wanted a life not defined by a generational curse.
Sydney fit that description as well as Anson did. Maybe if Blaze befriended her, some of Sydney’s good traits would rub off, and Blaze’s foolish heart would drop this interest in Anson.
Between sets, Blaze first stopped to say good night toMercy. Marissa always took her home about halfway through the show so she could get to bed at a reasonable time. As they left, Blaze approached Sydney’s table.
Blaze recognized the women on either side of Sydney from around town—Madison and Honor. Based on how often she saw them together at Monday shows, the three must be close.
Sydney smiled at her. “You sound great up there. How’re you doing?”
“My muscles ache more today than yesterday, if that’s possible.” Blaze rolled her shoulder. “How about you?”
“Oh, I’m good.” Sydney motioned to an empty chair. “Take a load off. You amaze me every week, standing all night in heels.”
