Page 31 of After We Fall

“Oh, I absolutely do,” he says, his tone laced with amusement.

What is this? Flirting?

We need to focus on the task at hand. I press the pleats on my slacks flat. “And what is your assessment of the ladies’ sobriety?”

“Our girls are just fine tonight.”

Our girls.

A piece of solidarity fleets through my core. It’s unfamiliar. Almost uncomfortable. But it calls to me just the same. Is this what it would be like to partner with someone? Someone to shoulder just a little of life’s weight.

I offer Luke a smile and, for one fraction of a second, allow myself to study the warmth in his eyes. The beauty. The sincerity. And if I’m not mistaken, a hint of vulnerability.

Then a boyish grin crosses his face, and he nods, redirecting my attention to the band.

The performance is charming, spirited, playful, and full of quasi-melodious voices belting out in earnest, right up until I hear the actual lyrics of the chorus. Then the whimsical nature of the moment is replaced by something deeper. Something profound and meaningful.

Tanya points to me, her finger bouncing with each word of gratefulness in the song.

There can be no mistake. She’s singing the sentiment to me.

I pull my stare from her and glance at the other two ladies.

They are all singing. Pointing. To me.

Every fiber of my being wants to allow the magnitude of the moment to wrap me in its cocoon. But Meredith should be here. She deserves their gratitude. Twelve Bluebells Ranch exists because of her vision. She’s the one who created a safe haven for these women. How is it possible that they’re singing to me?

Luke nudges me with his elbow. He leans in and fills my ear with his deep voice. “They picked this song for you. Kept talking about what you’ve done for them since they arrived at the ranch.”

A lump forms in my throat, and I swallow. What I’ve done?

I’ve done my job.

I might have offered a listening ear or a piece of guidance a few times. But they’re the ones who do the real work.

So, yes.

Yes, I decide, standing in the living room watching a band of silly, lovable girls lip-synch to me. “I’ll be their groupie,” I whisper. “For the rest of my life.”

Luke brushes his knuckles against mine, a sweet movement, almost as if he’s asking permission to take hold of my hand. Unable to peel my eyes off the beauty in front of me, I take his hand and squeeze, but instead of releasing him, I hang on tight. He doesn’t seem to mind, his grip firm. His presence solid.

After a few more measures, Tanya grabs my wrists, breaking my connection with Luke, and yanks me to the “stage” at the front of the room. She links our fingers together, throws our arms in the air, rears back her head, and yells, “Sing it, Penny Lady.”

The soundtrack repeats the chorus, and Bianca’s and Finley’s giggle-filled, slightly off-key crooning gets louder as they close in around us.

“Come on.” Tanya shakes our hands above our heads. “Don’t disappoint us. Let it out. We know it’s in there.”

In spite of my efforts, the lyrics break free. They’re only a whisper, but the words escape my lips to entwine with the girls’ voices.

A pronounced, collective “woo-hoo” sounds, and Luke’s laughter barks over the chaos.

A grin splits my face, hurting my cheeks. The neglected muscles protest as they stretch to capacity.

The song comes to an end, and a group hug ensues. Sweaty arms, heavy breaths, and no small amount of love fill my senses.

With grins, giggles, and high fives, the pack disbands.

As the next disco song grooves through the room, Tanya says, “Somebody turn that stuff down. I had fun, but I put my foot down at Barry Manilow.”