Cherished

thirty





IT WAS CRUNCH TIME.

Brian rolled out of bed extra early Monday morning, raring to go. This was it. All the songs needed to be finished by the end of the week. Before Kelli left the night before, they took a fresh listen to the ones already recorded and were still excited about them. As of now, they had six in the can and two in progress—the love letter to the world and to fellow aliens. They needed four more. Well, as far as Kelli knew. There would actually be thirteen songs on the album. Brian had decided to work on one without her.

They’d mapped out a plan where Kelli would work in the studio every afternoon and evening this week. By God’s grace, they would get it done. Brian couldn’t believe it, given how much he’d struggled, but it was looking like this album could be better than the first. He hadn’t concluded anything about school yet. He was praying for a clear answer by week’s end.

He hopped in the shower with a melody in his head that Kelli had been playing last night. He’d caught himself looking at her again as she worked, thanking God that she was there, that they were connecting again. That they were friends. Sunday was the best day he’d had in recent memory, just being together and acting goofy at the picnic. She was a gift. Someone to be cherished.

Something about that word—cherished—put everything else on pause and beckoned him whenever it came to mind. He wasn’t even sure of the full extent of its meaning, but he’d keep squeezing it until he was.

Brian got dressed and peeked into his grandmother’s room. She usually beat him out of bed, but it was his habit to check on her. The room was empty. Probably on her morning walk. Maybe she’d be back shortly and they could have their cereal together before he went down to the studio.

He came down the stairs and entered the kitchen—“Grandma!”

She lay on the floor by the kitchen table, a broken bowl of oatmeal beside her. He ran to her side, shaking, heart constricted, afraid of what he’d find. He got on the floor beside her and felt her face.

“Grandma, wake up. Come on.” He felt her heart, put his fingers to her wrist. She didn’t seem to be breathing. “Come on. We haven’t talked yet this morning. You know how we do.” He stroked her hair. “Grandma, please wake up!”

The tears flowed as he pulled his cell phone from his belt clip and called 911. Then he called Kelli.

Brian sat with her on the floor, her head in his lap, singing “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God,” her favorite hymn, and stroking her hair. She was gone. He knew she was gone. Why hadn’t he heard the bowl break? Was he in the shower? What if he’d found her sooner?

He heard the ambulance coming, but he couldn’t separate himself. Would he be able to hold her again? The finality of the moment was more than he could bear.

The banging on the door forced him to move. He placed her head gently on the floor. When he opened the door, he discovered not only the paramedics but a slew of neighbors wanting to know what was wrong. He let the paramedics in, asking the neighbors to please wait. He needed some time.

Brian found the paramedics hovered over her in the kitchen. He hung back, staring at a picture of the two of them on the counter.

“Sir, she’s already gone. Had she been suffering from anything?”

“She’s been the picture of health. Only thing she complained of recently was headaches. She’d been taking pain relievers, but I told her she might want to go to the doctor.”

“We’ll know more when we get her to the hospital, but could’ve been a brain aneurysm.”

Brian rode in the ambulance to the hospital, answering Kelli’s texts the whole way.

HOW IS SHE?

DO THEY KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?

HOW ARE YOU?

The last one he couldn’t answer. He was too numb to know.

He sat with his head down in the waiting room, trying to pray, though unsure what to ask, trying to wait, though unsure what he was waiting for.

The tears started again. He was thankful she’d lived a vibrant life, thankful she hadn’t suffered a debilitating illness. But he wished he could’ve said good-bye. A few minutes earlier and he would’ve seen her, laughed with her.

He heard someone approaching and looked up. “Hey, Kel.”

Without a word Kelli sat in the chair beside him, clutching his hand, sharing his tears. She was the only one on earth who knew exactly what his grandmother meant to him.

“I loved her, Brian. She was like my own grandmother, always so good to me.”

“She loved you too. She thought you were special.” He shook his head. “Had the nerve to tell me I’d never find anyone better.”

“When did she say that?”

He glanced down. “Last week.”

Kelli held his hand. “She was the special one. I can just see the ruckus she’s causing in heaven right now. Probably asking for the VIP tour.” She shook her head. “It’s so hard to believe she’s gone. She was just in the studio with us last night.” Kelli smiled. “She was digging those new songs, wasn’t she?”

Brian smiled too. “I’m glad she got to hear them.” He’d let her hear everything but the love letter to their baby. No way was he ready to reveal that to her. “She did seem to like them, didn’t she?”

Brian and Kelli looked up as the doctor came toward them. Brian stood.

“Mr. Howard, preliminary tests reveal that your grandmother indeed suffered a cerebral aneurysm, and when she fell, she broke her hip, compounding the injury.”

“Do you think she died instantly?” Brian asked.

“I do. I don’t believe she suffered.”

Brian took in his words, trying to find in them a sliver of comfort. “What happens now?”

“Our administrative assistant will guide you through the necessary paperwork. She should be out momentarily to help you. Our sincerest condolences to you and your family.”

When they were alone again, Brian sighed. “I don’t even know what to do when I leave here. Am I supposed to go straight to the funeral home? Do I go home? But how can I do that? They just took her body from the kitchen.”

“Brian,” Kelli said, “I just got a text from Cyd. They said for us to come over when we’re done.”

Brian took a breath and nodded. “That would be good.”


BRIAN HADN’T EXPECTED TO SEE SO MANY PEOPLE AT Cyd and Cedric’s home. He didn’t expect Cedric, for one. But he’d apparently left work when he’d gotten word. Stephanie was there, saying Lindell would arrive after his last appointment. Phyllis and her toddler had walked over, Dana had come, and even Logan and Pastor Lyles were there. Pastor Lyles couldn’t stay long, but he prayed with Brian and said they’d talk more at their scheduled meeting the next day, if Brian still felt up to coming.

A day filled with lively conversation served him well—the lively activity probably more so. After school let out, Phyllis’s boys came over and showed off some raps they’d written, infused with what they’d learned about God. That alone would have picked up his spirits.

By early evening Scott had brought his kids, and Lindell and Hayes had joined them, all of which contributed to an impromptu, braggadocio game of flag football with the guys—and Reese.

Brian was surprised how good he felt afterward, especially since it was followed by good food, which had been flowing in all day. By nightfall, with kids needing to get ready for school in the morning, Dana’s and Phyllis’s families had left, and it was only Kelli’s remaining, plus Logan . . . and Heather, who’d wanted to be there for Brian. Once Dana had gone, Kelli let her know it was okay to come over.

Kelli sat on the floor of the family room, petting Reese. “You know you’ll have to do this all over again at your house for your family and Grandma Howard’s friends.”

“Yep, I know.” Brian had grown wistful again as they sat around sharing stories about the past. “We’ll gather there after the funeral. I just couldn’t handle it today.”

“Do you know what you want to do about funeral arrangements?” Cedric asked.

“I thought we’d try to have the funeral Thursday or at least the viewing Thursday and the funeral on Friday, but my great-aunts say the funeral needs to be Saturday so family can get off work and get to town. There’s so much to think about I’m getting a headache.”

“I hesitate to ask, then,” Logan said, “but have you told the label you need an extension?”

Brian looked defeated. “This is already my third. If I miss it, everything’s thrown off.” He sighed. “And yet, I don’t see how I can make the deadline either. Today is gone. The rest of the week’ll be filled with nonstop calls and visits, plus preparing for the funeral. And creatively it’s next to impossible. My mind’s in a totally different place. I can’t even remember the melody that was in my head this morning.” He let his head fall back and hit the cushion. “I can’t believe this is all happening right now.”

“I think we can do this.”

Cyd turned surprised eyes to Stephanie. “We? You know your way around a studio?”

“I’m serious.” Stephanie scooted forward. “Brian, you’re trying to carry everything on your shoulders. All you need to do is set up the funeral arrangements—and you should go with your family’s wishes. A Saturday funeral gives you all week to work. You and Kelli can do what you do in the studio, and if you’ll let me, I’ll set up a base of operations upstairs in your house. I’ll handle the calls, visits, all that. Matter of fact, if you give me some names and numbers, I’ll start a phone chain in your family. I’ll call Aunt Suzie May or whoever with the arrangements, tell her to call her people, then they can call their people, and so on.”

Brian was overwhelmed. “You’d do all that?”

Stephanie smirked. “That’s nothing. Cyd’ll help if I need it. Right?” She glanced at her sister. “See? We got this.”

He was trying to think it through. “I’m still afraid I’ll get in the studio and be too depressed to work.”

“I could see that,” Lindell said, “but God is able.”

Brian looked at him. “You said that so simply.”

“I’m a simple kind of guy.” Lindell smiled. “From what I’ve seen, you weren’t trying to make it happen on your own anyway. Haven’t you been relying on God all along?”

“Trying to.”

“Okay, so now you’ll really be relying on God.”

“With some added prayer power,” Cyd said. She nodded with a smile. “I’ll get a whole slew of folk prayin’.”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Stephanie asked. “We got this.”

“However I can help,” Logan said, “I’m there.”

“Me too,” Heather said.

Brian looked at each of them. “I don’t know what I would do without all of you. I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Just give me a shout-out in the CD liner notes, and we’re good.”

Brian’s heart smiled. “You got it, Steph.”


BRIAN MIGHT’VE THOUGHT INITIALLY HE WOULD HAVE to carry everything on his shoulders, but for the remainder of the week, he had no doubt—he was the one being carried. From the ease with which he was able to set up arrangements with the funeral home and his grandmother’s church, to Stephanie’s efficient handling of the casseroles and bread pudding dishes—not to mention efficient handling of his family, which wasn’t easy—Brian knew prayers were being answered in a huge way.

But nowhere was it more apparent than in the studio. Even the producer had to be feeling the effects of the prayers. He sent music tracks that blew him and Kelli away, more than they needed, two of which inspired lyrics on the spot. And Kelli was able to work from morning to night. When Doug at Living Word learned what happened, he told her to devote the week to the album. Next week, he said, she could work full days to make up the time.

But while they were rolling, there were only so many working hours in a day. It took, at minimum, several hours to write and record. Kelli’s vocals alone took a long while, since the lead and several layers of background were recorded on different tracks. They tried not to stress about the clock, but by the end of the week, they had to admit Friday had shown its face much too soon.

Kelli and Brian sat looking at one another, waiting for a final burst of inspiration. Only one more song to go.

Brian groaned. “There’s no one left to write a love letter to.”

“’Course there is. We’re just not thinking of it. And anyway, do we have to have twelve songs? What’ll happen if you turn in eleven?”

“Originally I was shooting for fifteen. When the love letter idea came, it was so clear to me that there would be twelve letters to different segments of people. At least . . . I thought it was clear. If nothing comes soon, eleven it’ll be.”

They both sighed, Bibles in their laps, leafing, waiting.

“Hey!” Stephanie called from upstairs. “Y’all want some of this peach cobbler somebody just brought? It is slammin’.”

Kelli frowned at the stairway. “It’s still morning, Steph.”

Brian looked at Kelli like she was crazy. “Can you bring mine with milk, please?”

Stephanie brought the slice and a glass of milk, setting it down on the computer table.

“Thanks, Steph.”

“No problem. How’s it going?”

Kelli aimed her pencil at Stephanie. “Let me ask you a question.”

Stephanie waited.

“If you got a love letter from God, what would you want it to say?”

“Hmm . . .” Stephanie flipped her eyes upward as she thought. “If I got a love letter from God . . .”

Brian and Kelli gave one another the eye. Well, it couldn’t hurt.

“I’d love for God to tell me I don’t need skinnier hips or thighs or a different nose or thinner lips to measure up. That I’m fine just like I am, thank you very much—Spanx and all.”

“So . . .” Brian couldn’t believe God was dropping the answer like this. “You’d want Him to reassure you that you’re fearfully and wonderfully made.”

“Exactly!”

Brian looked at Kelli. Kelli looked at Brian.

“Stephanie?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“You just totally earned that shout-out in the CD.”

“Well, shoot, I thought I was doing that upstairs. What’s the next level? Royalties?”


AT 1:42 SATURDAY MORNING, BRIAN HAD HIS FINGER ON the Send button. He looked at the faces in the studio. “Should I do it?”

“Do it!”

He clicked it, and the songs hurled into cyberspace, off to the label for mixing. He fell back in his chair.

Applause and cheers went up in the room. Heather and Logan had joined them early in the evening, lending an ear, providing helpful critique on the last songs, boosting Brian and Kelli as fatigue from a long week set in.

Kelli collapsed on the floor with a squawky groan. “I have no voice.”

Heather smiled down at her. “You sound cute like that, all hoarse-like.”

“You’re such a trooper, Kel.” Brian’s neck hung over the chair. “I’ll get you some tea.”

“You don’t have any energy yourself,” Kelli said, “and don’t worry about it anyway. I’m just gonna head home and get some rest . . . as soon as I can get up.”

“The viewing’s at ten, right?” Logan asked.

“Right.” Brian’s own voice sounded deep and throaty. “Funeral immediately following.” He made himself get up, comfortable as he was, and stretched. “Well, it’s done. Hallelujah. I’m really excited. Good night.”

Logan laughed. “You’re too tired to celebrate now, but after you get some rest, you’ll be pumped. I’m pumped myself. It’s unbelievable the way it came together.”

“Beautiful.” Heather’s eyes showed admiration. “I can’t believe you just got the idea for that last one. The way you sang that chorus, Kelli . . . fearfully, wonderfully . . . fire!”

Kelli stretched out further on the floor. “I need somebody to light a fire under me, or I’ll fall asleep right here.”

Logan one-handed her to her feet.

The four trudged upstairs, Brian looking back at Logan and Heather. “Y’all hung in there with us tonight. Definitely appreciate you.”

“I just feel bad that I won’t be at the funeral tomorrow,” Heather said.

Brian shook his head. “Don’t give it another thought. The visit with your brother is long overdue.” He looked at her again. “You’re having quite the week, aren’t you?”

Heather smiled. “I guess you could say that. I still can’t believe I was in Nashville yesterday auditioning for Peyton Vine’s tour.” She paused. “I didn’t realize how many others would be there, though. And they could sing their faces off.”

“I’m not worried,” Kelli said. “You can sing your face off yourself. I think God’s got something special for you.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Logan said.

Heather and Logan said their good-byes and headed to Logan’s car. Brian walked Kelli to hers.

“So how do you feel?” Kelli asked. “I noticed you haven’t said much about your decision. Pretty big deal to leave the PhD program.”

“I haven’t had time to dwell on how I feel yet, and maybe that was for the best.” He shrugged. “They needed my decision today, and I couldn’t continue unless my heart was really in it.” He sighed. “I had a peace about it, and Grandma had a lot to do with that. The night before she died, she said I was putting my heart and soul into those songs. I don’t know if I could say that about science. I find it interesting, might even love it. But my heart and soul?” He looked at Kelli. “This week in particular, I’ve really felt that I’m called to do this music ministry, at least for now.”

“I can see why,” Kelli said. “I never thought I would enjoy this process as much as I have. And seeing it culminate in something that could really touch people’s hearts . . . It’s incredible. Thank you, Brian.”

“‘Thank you, Brian?’ If it weren’t for you, there wouldn’t have been an album. You were my inspiration.”

“Oh, you would’ve had an album. It was all God.”

“But God used you.”

Kelli allowed their gaze to linger. Then, “I really wish you well with it. I know you will touch a lot of lives.”

“We.”

“Well.” Kelli’s eyes grazed the ground, then she brought them back to Brian.

His heart pounded as he looked at her. So much he felt. So much he wanted to say.

He took a step back. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.”

He stood on the sidewalk and watched her drive away.