“And now,” he drawled into the microphone as the camera tightened in on him again. “My beautiful fiancée, Belle Graves, and I are going to play a song that we wrote together. That’s what I do now—I write songs, and some of them I keep for me or Belle, a few for both of us, and some we sell to other artists.” He grinned at her as the camera panned out, showing the horses behind the stage and the vastness of Wyoming beyond that, and she sickenly-sweetly smiled back at him. “But this one should finally get us in the holiday mood.”
While they’d been in close on Harry, someone had set a mic up for Belle, and Harry sat on a stool to bring their heights closer together. She stood at his side, beaming like a shiny new penny. Then Harry started to play a very familiar tune—Jingle Bells. Belle sang through the verse in her lower, raspier voice, and Harry came in on the chorus, the two ofthem melding their voices together into one rich harmony that made it sound like they truly were made for each other.
Simply looking at them, Bailey knew they were. She’d been invited to Harry’s wedding. She honestly wasn’t sure if she would go, while at the same time, she wasn’t sure how she could miss it. He’d been nothing but kind to her every moment of his life, and Bailey loved and appreciated Harry as well.
Her phone chimed, but she didn’t turn back to the couch to pick it up.
“Sing along with us now,” Harry said on the final chorus, and Bailey did exactly what he said, for Harry Young could not be ignored.
When that song finished, Belle leaned in and kissed his cheek and then turned to leave the stage. She passed Bryce, who gave her a high five as he sauntered onto the stage as if he was born to be there, which, of course, he was.
He’d never had a solo career the way Harry had, though he could have. He had traveled plenty with Country Quad over the years, singing duets with his daddy while the other band members got breaks. He and Harry were obviously doing that tonight for their fathers, which only made them more endearing to Bailey.
“Merry Christmas,” Bryce bellowed into the microphone. Bailey clasped her hands together and held them in front of her heart for this man she’d practically fallen for at first sight. He was so charming and so sweet, so smart and so good.
Bailey had struggled for years thinking she hadcorrupted him into sleeping with her before they were married, and it had taken a lot of therapy for her to move past those dangerous and damaging feelings. She’d once begged God to allow them to be made for each other, and that had taken her a long time to get over as well—the fact that they simply weren’t.
He was married now, and he’d just had a baby, and Bailey felt nothing but joy and sunshine as she looked at him on the screen.
“I’m Bryce Young,” he said. “And Harry and I are going to play a song from his second album.” He gave no more introduction, and instead, their guitars sang together for several long moments of intricate plucking until Harry finally started singing.
The song was more upbeat, almost something Bailey would hear a fiddle and a ukulele and a guitar play together at a small-town dance on a summer evening. Bryce and Harry went together like peanut butter and jelly, their voices perfectly unique and coming together into something combined that was wonderful and gorgeous. The song talked about drinking too much and having too good a time and not caring till Sunday morning, when they’d ask for forgiveness.
Bailey loved this song, as she’d often lived her life as a Sunday-only believer, but recently, she’d been trying to take Christ’s teachings into her everyday life and live them all the time—the way she knew Harry did and Bryce did.
That song ended, and both Harry and Bryce looked to the right. Bryce and Belle had come off the left side ofthe stage, and Bailey pulled in a breath because she suspected OJ would come out next. The camera pulled back again, and Bryce leaned in and said, “And now for the country music debut of the next generation of Youngs.”
“Wait,” Harry said. “I thoughtwewere the next generation of Youngs.” He and Bryce both chuckled. Bailey wondered if it hurt any part of Bryce to see his own son come on the stage and not call him that.
“I guess you’re right,” Bryce said. “He’s part of our generation. I’m just so much older than him.” He chuckled, but Bailey did not. She sank back onto the couch, her heart pounding now for some reason. She remembered her phone had chimed, but she still didn’t reach for it, because Bryce said, “We want to welcome to the stage Otis—Judson—Yooooooooung!”
He held on to the last name as OJ ran out, and there was her darling little boy, the one she’d given up for adoption. OJ had the same shaped nose as Bryce, but his hair was lighter, and his eyes definitely belonged to Bailey. He’d grown up with the Youngs, so he had their mannerisms and their way of speaking, and a perfectly heighted mic stood between Bryce and Harry.
“Howdy, fellas,” he said into it.
“Tell ‘em who you are,” Harry said, grinning for all he was worth.
OJ looked straight at the camera, and with all the enthusiasm of an eleven-year-old boy, he said, “I’m OJ Young, and I’m real excited to be here with you this holiday season.”
Tears ran down Bailey’s face, even as she smiled. Thescene in front of her was everything she’d ever wanted for him, and a new sense of comfort and peace washed over her.
You don’t need to worry about him anymore. The thought lingered in her mind as Bryce explained that they were going to play a song that Otis had written for the three of them.
“You’ve been practicing, OJ?” he asked.
“Every day, Bryce,” he said. “My daddy don’t let up about that.”
“Oh, I bet he doesn’t,” Harry said.
The three of them grinned at one another, and then Bryce nodded to OJ, who started to play first. Bailey wiped her tears and caught him swallowing. While watching her beautiful boy, she whispered a plea for him. “Bless him, Lord,” she said. “Not to be nervous and not to make a single mistake, and help him know that I’m watching him—and that I love him.”
Harry came in on the next measure, and he and OJ played beautifully together with Harry’s guitar complementing OJ’s and letting him stay in the lead. Bryce came in behind them both, and then Harry leaned forward and started to sing. He was definitely stronger at that than Bryce, and Bailey had seen OJ play and sing before, and his voice wouldn’t be as powerful and as refined as Harry’s.
She picked up her phone and found that the text that had come in had been from him. He’d said,I’m up soon. I’m so excited and nervous.
She quickly tapped out a message:I am watching youright now, and you are brilliant and beautiful and doing such a good job!
She sent that text, and then raised her phone and took a shot of the three of them all looking at the camera just as OJ started to sing. She took a few more, his higher voice among those deeper ones of his cousins. When the song ended, she sent him that picture and a whole text full of heart emojis. OJ loved using emojis in his texts, when she hoped Otis would show him those texts the moment he could. She clapped along with the crowd and then sank back into the couch, her heart fuller than ever.
