Cherished - By Kim Cash Tate Page 0,100
the album wrapped.”
Kelli shrugged. “Might’ve seemed that way because of the pressure of the deadline, but now that it’s passed, we’re each doing our own thing.”
Heather eyed her. “How do you feel about that?”
“You had to go digging, didn’t you?”
“I try to do my part.”
Kelli took another sip of coffee. “Not sure how I feel about it. I went from hating him to tolerating him . . .”
“To enjoying him again?”
Kelli gave a reluctant nod. “Crazy, huh?”
“No. You’d be crazy if you didn’t. Everybody loves that guy.”
“Kind of like everybody loves Logan?”
“Touché.” Heather gave a slight smile. “Funny how Brian and Logan have become good friends, isn’t it? Think they ever sit around talking about us?”
“Those two?” Kelli shook her head. “Music and sports.”
THE MOMENT HEATHER SAW HIM, HER HEART LET HER know—she would miss Logan more than she knew. She slow-walked the aisle, listening to him play, watching the movement of his fingers, hearing his heart. He poured so much of himself into his music, into this ministry. Had she ever told him how much she admired that?
She sat by him on the bench, and their smiles and shoulder bumps said hello. When he reached the end of the song, he started into their favorite chorus.
He sang the first line. “His grace and mercy have covered you, you’re not the same . . .”
She sang the next line with him, but she couldn’t continue. Emotion filled her lungs.
He paused. “You okay?”
She touched his arm. “Please. Keep playing.”
The words took her through her moments with Logan, from the Indy hotel to the family arena to every other time she’d ever seen him—each one a demonstration of his special care of her.
He turned toward her when he finished. “You’re moving to Illinois, aren’t you?”
She nodded, staring at the piano. They sat in silence.
He looked at her again. “It’ll be awesome . . . getting to know your family, leading those kids in worship.”
“Yeah, except they’ll probably be leading me.”
“So.” He cleared his throat. “When do you leave?”
“About two weeks.”
Silence swallowed the seconds again.
“I’ll miss you, Heather.”
She met his gaze, fresh tears on her lids. “I’ll miss you too. Thank you, Logan, for everything you’ve done for me. You’ve been an amazing friend.” She added quickly, “Not that this is goodbye—I mean, it’s good-bye in some ways, but it doesn’t mean our friendship has to end. I really hope . . . I hope it continues.”
“Me too.”
“You don’t sound too confident.”
“I’m a realist. It’s not easy to maintain a friendship across the miles. But I do hope it can continue.”
Why did Heather feel like her heart was breaking? They were just friends, for goodness’ sake. But she couldn’t stop crying.
Logan put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into him, allowing her head to find his chest. “Normal’s not far,” she said, “and besides, we’ll have the next two weeks together.”
He nodded against her hair. “And we have right now.”
She reached for his hand and clung to it, remembering Cyd’s words a few weeks ago about accepting God’s will and God’s timing. She really did feel He was leading her to go to Normal, but she also couldn’t imagine life without Logan. Was it just a matter of timing? Or was this more of a good-bye than she was ready to admit?
thirty-three
THE ACTIVITY CENTER AT LIVING WORD HAD PLAYED host to every kind of youth event, special ministry event, big-name speaker event, and even a music concert, but none had been anything like this. That’s the story Brian kept hearing as he waited in a room down the hall. His album release party had packed the place as never before.
He looked up as the door opened and Jackson, a church volunteer, came in looking official—clipboard, cell phone, and walkie-talkie—ready to give his update. The room they were in had grown crowded too. Initially it was just a few people who would pray with Brian beforehand, including his friends who’d flown in from Atlanta. But as word leaked where he was, more and more people had filtered through the loose security system, all to wish him well.
The group grew quiet as Jackson lifted his hands to get their attention. “We’re supposed to start in ten minutes, but the line is still stretched across the parking lot. We moved most of the tables out to make room, so we should be able to accommodate everyone. Just a matter of getting them inside in an orderly fashion. I think we’ll be ready in twenty.”
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