“Ariel, I’m sorry.” He paused. If only he didn’t have to say this. “I shouldn’t have let it happen. Your aunt is upset, and we can’t risk the band falling apart because of tension between you two.”
“You’re right. And I like you—a lot.” She glanced at the piano, a shadow passing in her eyes as if she wanted to pour out her heart at the keyboard. Instead, she crossed her arms over her middle and blinked, her eyes damp, their rims pink. “If things were different…”
At the sight of her almost tears, he dropped his gaze, a heaviness hitting him. “I shouldn’t have kissed you. Especiallysince I’m not exactly free at the moment either. Last night I realized I need to stay, at least for a while, and fight harder for this inn. Although I’d rather sail away with you to that island your aunt sings about.”
“If only we could.”
Caleb looked up at her again, hoping she wouldn’t smile that brave little smile again. “But our kiss was spectacular.”
This time, her smile crinkled her eyes. “Yes, spectacular.”
“To make everything more confusing, I’m getting ready to fill in as worship leader in the legacy hotel I’ll someday inherit. That’s a mixed bag of occupations if I’ve ever seen one. So until I figure this out, all I have to offer you are jam sessions in the parlor of a failing hotel I don’t know to fix. And an off-the-cuff worship service this morning.”
“I understand. If I didn’t have to leave for our summer’s-end tour the first week of August, things would be different for me too.”
He bowed his head, nearly choking on his next words. “For now, I guess we need to work together as…friends.”
Problem was, once you kissed a woman, nothing was ever the same.
Chapter Eleven
When ten o’clock rolled around, Caleb stood with Pastor Arnie in the makeshift parlor-sanctuary and slung his acoustic guitar’s strap around his neck. Although he wasn’t sure how all this would work out.
He’d chosen simple, well-known contemporary songs and a couple popular hymns. Time hadn’t allowed them to set up a screen for lyrics, but maybe the congregation would know the words.
With little time to prepare his mind or heart for the service, he’d looked back to the days when he led youth worship. He’d focused on giving people an opportunity to worship, not worrying about the quality of music. He’d do the same today. Nothing fancy, nothing showy. Just an opportunity for people to worship Jesus. He’d merely sing and play to the Lord, as he did every morning.
He waited for the pastor to step up to the “stage,” which was just a cleared area in front of the rows of chairs. As a teen leading worship, Caleb had merely asked the Lord to show upin a service and listened for His voice as he sang and played a simple accompaniment. Today would look the same. No hype, no complicated licks. Just worship from the heart.
Caleb had invited a boy and girl from the youth worship team to sing with him. The rest of the preteens and teens sat together in the front row. He surveyed the fifty or so people in the seats, including Granddad and a dark-haired female home health aide.
Then he spotted Ariel in the second row with her aunt, Uncle Augo, an older couple, and a man and boy, both with red hair. Likely her family. Ariel kept her eyes averted from Caleb, looking instead at her bulletin.
He’d considered asking her to sing but thought the attention needed to remain on the Lord instead of a celebrity visitor. Now he wished she was up here with him, partly so he didn’t have to see her downcast gaze.
Pastor was praying now, so Caleb strummed quiet chords, then started the first song about the goodness of God, cuing the young backup singers with a nod.
The words rang true for him as never before, hearing the mix of voices declaring that He had been faithful all their lives. And off to the side, Uncle Augo’s little dachshund added her own “awoos” of worship.
At least, that’s what his uncle always said they were.
When they reached the set’s end, and Caleb had played the last verse of “Amazing Grace,” he and his two singers left the makeshift stage. Caleb sat on the front row, where Ariel wouldn’t distract him.
After the preaching and last prayer, the congregation lingered, visiting and praying for one another, talking with Ariel and Miss Dahlia, drinking warm drinks, and eating berries and turnovers. The children and youth ran amok, which amazingly made Granddad smile.
Tara Chamberlain strode his way, on a mission as always. “Would you consider letting our Knitting for Jesus ladies meet here on Wednesday afternoons? They’ll go back to meeting in the church as soon as we get the new roof on and the drywall damage fixed.”
Knitting for…?
He hesitated, trying hard to keep a grin off his face but sadly failing. “What exactly is Knitting?—”
When he let out an involuntary snort, Tara interrupted him with a whack on the bicep. “Stop. It’s the Golden Age Ladies’ knitting club, goofy. It’s not funny. They make prayer shawls for the nursing home on the mainland.”
He took a deep breath, schooled his expression. “Sure, they can knit for Jesus anywhere they want in the hotel.”
“Good. Now, what about Wednesday night Bible study?”
“Does it involve knitting?”
