CHAPTER1
All of Ruston Abbott’ssenses told him this was not the sort of place he should be at. When Thomas had told him they were going to a party, he had expected a small gathering of people his age—not a raging college house party. Sure, Thomas was a year younger than him, but Thomas was still twenty-seven. Even he was too old to be drinking with college kids.
Ruston Abbott and Thomas Harstad had grown up not far from the old two-story house full of young people the party was taking place at. Calling them young people, that should say how old Ruston was right there.
Tonight, they had walked there from his mom and dad’s house, that was how close he was to getting home. Thomas had assured him it was going to be a small gathering with friends. If Thomas knew any of these people, he would eat his sock. His friend was a social butterfly, though, so he probably knew them all now.
It was almost 10:00 p.m., and the house was so full of people he could barely move. He should just go back home, leave Thomas behind. The last time he saw the younger man, he had been making out in the corner with a woman Ruston was sure he hadn’t known an hour ago.
This was not the sort of place he should be. The music was blaring from the corner of what he assumed was the living room. He had been surprised to see the live band because the house was way too small for that.
Ruston glanced again at his friend in the corner, but he had vanished. Now he was alone in the house full of young people. Young drunk people. How many were underage? How long until the cops were called?
This party could be the end of his career. Ruston knew all it would take was one arrest at a house party full of underage drinkers, and his position at the church would be over—and any other church he wanted to work at. His life would be over, and for what, this?
For the last two years, he had been the preacher at a little church a short two-hour drive from this house. It was a nice little church full of people who looked up to him as a pillar of the community. If he got arrested, that would all be gone.
Why had he stayed this long? Maybe he missed being around rowdy young people just having a good time. Shaking his head, getting his senses back, he knew he was past that time in his life. He was a twenty-eight-year-old preacher now, not a kid.
Turning, he started to make his way to the door to get out of there. As he weaved his way through the large crowd to the door, he realized the band had stopped. The young people had stopped moving to the music, making it easier to get through them. Though not as simple as he would like.
He had almost made it all the way to the door when a new band started. Immediately, he recognized the song from parties he had gone to when he was young, but this was the first time he had heard it as a solo unaccompanied only by a guitar. A woman with a voice like an angel started the first lines of “Life in a Northern Town” with just a lone guitar accompanying her.
Stopping, he turned to see a young woman standing center stage, looking down at the guitar as she played. Her hair was almost white, short, and had been spiked out all over her head. Her makeup was heavy with black rings around her eyes. She was wearing a black tank top and a black leather mini skirt. The army boots were tied loosely on her feet. She looked like a punk rocker, but the song was in contrast to her looks.
His feet were frozen as she continued to sing, slipping into the chorus for the first time; alone and with no support from other band members. As he watched, she looked up from the guitar and scanned the room in front of her. Ruston gasped as her eyes caught his in the crowded room.
Hazel May.
The name ran through his head along with dozens of images of her over the past two years. Every week he saw that face looking back at him from the pews as he preached. Every week she sat next to her grandma and grandpa, Rose and John May. Every week she had her son John on her lap. Every week she had her short blonde hair laying nicely on her head, never standing up like tonight, and she never wore any makeup. She never sang during the songs about God, Jesus, and being saved, but now she poured her heart into this sad song. Her fingers didn’t miss a beat; her voice hit every note perfectly. Though he had heard singing every week of his life, he had never heard a voice as serene as hers. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as the song came to an end, her hazel eyes on him.
Hazel with the hazel eyes. Hazel with the sad eyes. Hazel, who never smiled.
With the song over, he didn’t know what to do. He should leave, but he couldn’t walk away from her. On stage, she looked down at the guitar again. When she started the next song, the crowd started to cheer, and Ruston grinned as he saw her smile at their reaction without looking up. Though the song was different with just her playing the guitar, he recognized it as a popular Taylor Swift song on the radio all the time. It was more upbeat than the last one she had played, and some in the crowd sang along as she belted out the song. She didn’t catch his eye again as she sang. This time, her eyes kept moving around the room, looking at everyone but him.
As the song came to an end, the band came back on stage, and she handed off the guitar as she jumped down. He lost her in the crowd immediately, as she was not a tall girl.Woman, she was a woman. She had a three-year-old son, though he had no idea how old she was.
With the band back on stage, the volume raised as their multiple instruments started their first song. A slow one to get the crowd dancing, he assumed. With a sigh, he turned once again to leave when someone grabbed the back of his shirt and said, “Dance, preacher man.”
Turning, he saw the woman who had just held the crowd in her hands, but more importantly, him. Knowing he should leave, he instead turned, following her back into the room to dance with her. There was no way he could say no to her. Pulling her warm, barely clothed body into his arms, he felt her arms go around his neck. He was a little surprised when she rested her head on his chest and that her hair didn’t poke into him like the pins it looked like.
Neither said anything as the song played loudly over them. Swaying gently to the music, he didn’t even know what to say to the young woman. He was lost for words, but right then, he could barely remember how to put words together.
Why had she wanted to dance with him? Why him, of all people? Had they ever actually talked before?
Pulling away, she lowered her arms from around his neck where her fingers had been tapping to the beat of the music and slid them down to his waist, where she put a hand on either of his hips.
Leaning up so that her mouth was close to his ear, she whispered, “You have no rhythm, preacher man.”
He leaned his head down to her ear. “You have enough for both of us.”
His heart raced as he watched her laugh. He couldn’t hear it over the music, but it made her face light up. At that moment, he knew he had never seen her laugh or smile or sing until tonight. Every week for two years, he had seen no emotion in her.
The song was winding down, and she pulled out of his arms and grabbed his hand. He let her pull him through the crowd. For some reason, he wanted to do whatever she was planning for them. He watched as she looked around a little and then brought him up the stairs in the back of the house. At the top, she led him into the first door she saw.
Once in the room, she turned and pulled him back into the position they had been dancing in when they were in the middle of the crowd. A new song had started, faster than the last, but her movements were the same. He just held her in his arms and danced, letting her set the pace.
With his hands around her waist, they swayed to the music coming through the floor from below. They could barely hear the words, just the bass. He felt her sigh in his arms, and ever so quietly, she started to sing the song the band was playing downstairs. Her fingers drummed in time to the beat on his neck again. It was calming.