Then There Was You Page 18

  Paige blew out a breath. It wasn’t fair to ask someone on the band to do it. She didn’t even think there was someone who could. They were musicians, not bill hagglers, transport bookers, or expense managers.

  Janine leaned forward. “Paige, we know it’s over and above the call of duty, but we were wondering if there was any chance you might be able to go.”

  Fear crept up her throat, threatening to choke her. “To New Zealand?”

  No, not there, anywhere but there.

  Janine nodded. “You’re the only one we could think of who could do the job. And with a US passport, you don’t need a visa for only two weeks.”

  She glanced at Josh. He stared at a spot slightly above her head, offering no hint as to what he thought of the idea.

  “But what about Grace?” She choked the words out. With the band gone, she was meant to be returning fulltime to the conference. It was barely a month away.

  “We’ve talked to Emily. She’s going a little stir crazy at home. Turns out, unlike the rest of us who wandered around in a zombie-like daze for the first few months, she’s got this first-time motherhood thing down pat. She’s happy to come in a couple of days a week to keep things ticking over while you’re away and we’ll find an admin assistant to support her.”

  Paige felt like she was being crushed under the weight of expectation. They had no idea what they were asking. She couldn’t go back there. Couldn’t. Getting on a plane again was bad enough, but it was nothing compared to what she’d have to face at the other end. “Can I think about it overnight?”

  Josh and Janine exchanged a glance, then Janine spoke. “Of course.”

  If God wanted Paige’s attention, He’d gotten it. Now she intended to spend the night begging Him to work some kind of miracle in the next twenty-four hours—a miracle that wouldn’t require her returning to her personal lion’s den.

  Twenty-Seven

  They should have found another way. There must have been someone else who could do it. In the midst of his desperation to find a solution for the tour, Josh had completely forgotten Paige wasn’t a fan of flying. Which had clearly been the world’s biggest understatement.

  Sitting next to him in the plane, Paige’s face was whiter than a soft serve ice cream, and drawn tighter than a freshly made hospital bed. Her eyes were clamped shut, and her knuckles stuck out like a mountain range as she gripped the arms of her seat.

  Every flight to the next tour location had been like this. Sydney to Auckland, she’d spent most of the time breathing into a paper bag. Auckland to Wellington, she’d worn the mask of someone fighting the urge to scream. Now, Wellington to Christchurch, turbulence rocked the plane and it pitched and rolled, trying to gain elevation over the Cook Strait. Josh was beginning to wonder if it was possible for someone to stroke out from stress and fear.

  Everyone in the band had offered her every travel remedy they had, but she’d turned them all down. It turned out she’d rather give herself an aneurysm than risk having an adverse reaction again.

  And every time, Paige got off the flight and did her job perfectly, which made him feel like even more of a world-class jerk for the way he’d first treated her in Sydney.

  Flying had been a normal part of his life for ages. Even before Harvest had flourished and the band taken off, his family had traveled a lot. The closest he’d come to being afraid of flying had been on a trip to Russia. Even then it wasn’t the flying itself that scared him. It was the entire trip—planes that creaked, shuddered, and groaned like they were one loose screw away from disintegrating, corrupt officials with large guns, road rules that seemed to revolve entirely around the size of the vehicle you were in. It had done wonders for his prayer life.

  Prayer. He should pray. He closed his eyes and tried to conjure up something eloquent but all he could think was God, help her. Over and over, he repeated the plea as the turbulence increased and the A320 bounced its way between islands. Across the aisle, even some of the band’s most seasoned travelers started to take on a bit of a green tinge.

  Tears leaked from the corner of the eye he could see, running a trail down the side of her cheek and neck, and pooling at her collarbone.

  His heart was about to collapse in on itself. Every atom in him screamed to reach over, pull her into his lap, and cradle her against his chest. Instead he settled for placing his hand over hers, tucking his fingers between hers. It didn’t matter if anyone saw, or what they might read into it. He was done pretending he didn’t care.

  Josh thought she was terrified of flying. Which she was. How ironic. Terrified of flying, yet desperate for this flight to take forever. What was at the other end was more terrifying than being trapped in a death can. For once.

  Paige had lost track of time with her eyes clenched shut, only able to measure it by the bounces and lurches of the plane, which all seemed to last forever.

  Why had she agreed to come? Why hadn’t she told them they’d have to find someone else? She should have. At this moment, that was blindingly obvious. But she’d been afraid if she opened that door and let anyone in, told them why she couldn’t go, she might lose all the progress she’d made. That, once again, everyone in her life would see her as an object of pity. So she’d decided to soldier on, still harboring her secret. Not even her family knew where she was going.

  She’d stuffed her guilt and regret so deep, she was about to shatter into a thousand pieces. Of course, of all the flights, this would be the one where Josh was sitting next to her, no doubt right now wondering if she would need some kind of mental health intervention when they landed.

  Fingers curled around hers, warmth spreading up her arm. Unpeeling her eyes, Paige looked down at her armrest, at the long masculine fingers that were wrapped around hers. Her gaze traveled up the sleeves of the red hoodie, over the familiar rugged jawline and sculpted cheeks. Her chest stilled as she tilted her head and stared up into the gray eyes that caused her to lose her senses.

  “I’m sorry.” His whispered words nearly got swallowed by the engines.

  “Why?”

  “That we made you come. We should have found another option.”

  “You didn’t know.”

  He shook his head. “I did. You told me.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I didn’t realize we were asking something that was too big for anyone to ask of you.”

  His eyes darkened like storm clouds. For the first time since it happened, Paige found herself overwhelmed by the urge to tell someone the whole ugly story. How her whole life had been broken in the city they were about to land in. How it was her fault her family would never be complete again.

  “I . . .” Her voice cracked. “My—” She couldn’t even get out the word brother before the wheezing started, her breaths coming faster and faster.

  A paper bag was in front of her face. “It’s okay, just breathe. In and out. In and out.” God, please help me. She followed Josh’s instructions, focusing all her energies on expanding and deflating the white paper balloon in front of her.

  It wasn’t until the wheels hit the tarmac that she realized, at some point, the arm rest had vanished, Josh had his arm wrapped around her, and she was curled into his side like she’d always had a place carved out between his arm and his chest.

  Twenty-Eight

  Christchurch looked completely different. It had been over six years since the last major earthquake, yet for some reason, Paige had expected it would be the same devastated city she’d fled on a sunny March day in 2011. That she would walk into the airport and be confronted with the ghost of her brother from that morning, when she’d arrived disoriented from her twenty-hour journey but bursting with excitement.

  She’d expected to feel Ethan around every corner, down every road. But most of the corners and roads that had held her brother’s voice, his laughter, his attempt at playing tour guide were gone. Or didn’t look anything like they used to. Only the drive down Memorial Avenue into the city and the loop around Hagley Park had sent sea
ring memories through her shattered psyche.

  Instead, the rebuild was in full swing—new shops, hotels, office buildings, and apartments, all rising from the remains of a broken city. Everywhere, beauty was rising from devastation, everything new. The city was starting afresh, moving on. Meanwhile, she still felt like time was frozen, as if she was the same hollow shell she’d been when she left. Intending never to return.

  The day had passed in a blur running between the venue and the hotel, unraveling mixed up bookings, getting bags to the right rooms, and feeding and watering the band. No time for self-indulgent trips down tragedy lane. Once she’d passed a building from that morning and the memory of that moment ripped through her so powerfully, it was almost like she’d been ricocheted back in time. The voices of locals and tourists enjoying a beautiful summer day, even though it was now winter. The sun on her back. Ethan striding beside her. No one able to see the dark shadow of disaster looming on the horizon. The ghost of her present self wanting to scream at people not to cross that road, not to go into that shop, to be anywhere but here.

  Paige sucked in a breath, forcing herself back to the present. She’d survived the day by focusing on doing her job. She’d come too far to lose it now with less than twelve hours until they left.

  “Here’s the receipt for the post-show pizza.” One of the backstage guys handed her a long white piece of paper. She glanced at the figure at the bottom then pocketed the invoice to add to her pile of paperwork back at the hotel.

  It was the final thing she’d been waiting for. Her job for tonight was done. Tomorrow she would settle up the hotel bills and make sure everyone was in the right shuttle at the right time to catch the right plane.

  On the stage, the band had started the final set. The haunting sound of her strings arrangement rippled across the auditorium. The lingering notes drew her in, called her name. Made her yearn to feel the taut strings against her fingers. Kat was right. She may never be able to play like she used to but she was still here. Could still play. Which was a minor miracle it and of itself, all things considered.

  Her gaze wandered to Josh—guitar hanging across his torso, his voice rippling across the theatre proclaiming truth, his arms raised in worship. He was born to do this. Live this life.

  He had anchored her in this city where she had lost everything. She didn’t know how. They hadn’t even had a proper conversation since this morning’s flight. But there was something about his strong, stable presence that made her feel like maybe, somehow, God would find a way to put all the broken pieces back together. That maybe, one day, she would be able to think about Ethan without the weight of guilt that pounded as relentlessly as a jackhammer, be able to think about this city without her arm throbbing, reminding her of the dreams this place had stolen.

  All she wanted to do was to bury herself in Josh’s arms, close her eyes, and hear him whisper her name and tell her that she’d get through this.

  His tenor rippled across her and to her toes. When everything is broken, still I will trust in You. When there are no words to be spoken, still I will trust in You.

  The tears streamed down her face. When was the last time she had trusted God, really trusted Him, thrown herself at Him without reservations, without a backup plan or a safety net?

  Her fingers gripped the edge of one of the stage curtains. Her heart and mind wanted to stay in this safe place, with Josh close by, but her soul pushed her forward, insisting there was somewhere else she needed to be.

  If she was going to do it, she had to go now. This set would last another half hour. It was close by. No one would even know she’d gone.

  As she stepped back into the depths of the wings, Paige closed her eyes and let the end of the song roll over her like a wave on Bondi Beach. Then she moved toward the closest exit, gathered her coat around her and stepped into the night.

  Each step of her boots echoed in the dark alley as she headed toward the streetlights that heralded Gloucester Street. Looking both ways, she crossed the road, skipping over the tram tracks that crisscrossed the central city.

  She cut through another alley, this one well lit and throbbing with sounds coming from a nearby club, and entered Cathedral Square. Her steps slowed as the once majestic Christchurch Cathedral loomed up in front of her.

  A black fence surrounded the Cathedral’s crumbled remains. Behind the barrier, steel poles rose, propping up the remains of the stone façade.

  She approached a metal gate set into the fence. Curled her fingers around the cold metal and pressed her face up against it. “I’m so sorry, Ethan.”

  On February 22, 2011, this had been the site of a miracle. The Cathedral was always packed with tourists, climbing the steeple for its views across the city. And when the earthquake had struck, it had collapsed—the steeple, roof, walls. Tons of stone and masonry crushed whatever lay in their path. People in the square when the earth unleashed its fury spoke of how they had seen people in the steeple as it crumbled underneath them. Others ran into the building in some misguided search for safety, only for the building to collapse.

  When the search and rescue teams went in, there was no one. When the heavy machinery lifted tons of rubble in the search for bodies, no one. After days and weeks of searching for what eyewitnesses said they would find, nothing. The busiest tourist site in the city had been empty. Not a single person died in the Cathedral.

  It was where she and her brother were supposed to be. If they’d been there, everything would be different. But they weren’t. And it was all her fault.

  She turned from the spot where miracles had happened for others and cut diagonally across the square. What she was about to do would either undo her completely or help her begin making peace with the events that had buried her under the weight of surviving.

  Either way, she was done with just existing.

  Applause still ringing in his ears, Josh walked off stage and handed his guitar to one of the crew. Adrenaline streamed through his body from two hours of leading a thousand people, arms raised and voices united in worship. Everything else that came with touring could sometimes get old, but never that.

  “Great set, bro.” Connor walked up behind him and gave him a slap on the back.

  “Thanks.” Josh looked around. “Let’s get everyone together for final prayer.”

  The next morning the band would be splitting up, with half heading home and the rest heading to the US to meet up with a fresh crew for the next round of gigs.

  Connor let out his trademark piercing whistle, calling everyone together.

  A few minutes later, the stage curtains were closed and the space was crowded with everyone from the musicians to the tech guys to the merchandise crew.

  Kellie gave him a thumbs-up from across the crowd. Tucked in behind her, he could just glimpse hints of the colorful blooms they’d bought Paige. Not that she’d get to enjoy them for long, but hopefully she’d appreciate the gesture.

  Josh looked around at the group. They were a tight team, as they had to be when they spent weeks a year on the road together. He cleared his throat. “Thanks for your hard work this week. I know it’s a tough gig crossing the ditch to visit our seventh state . . .” He paused for the collective groan from the Kiwi contingent. “But I think we can all be proud.” He never tired of the sight of venues packed with people worshipping. “Now, before I close us off in prayer, there’s one other item of business.”

  He looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the familiar ponytail. Nothing. No doubt she was trying to hide in the background. He searched again, checking each face. Still not there.

  His breath seized. Something didn’t feel right. In Auckland and Wellington, once they’d gotten on the ground, Paige had been her usual bossy, sassy, detail-obsessed self. Here, in Christchurch, she hadn’t. She’d done her job as well as always, but it was like part of her had been absent. She was a mere shadow of the feisty American they all knew.

  The growing silence brought him back to the pres
ent. “As many of you know, we’ve had a newbie with us on this tour. She got thrown in at the last moment and, I think we all agree, has done an amazing job. In fact, these ten days wouldn’t have been possible without her.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kellie moving forward with the flowers. “So let’s all give Paige a hand.”

  The stage burst into applause with the odd whistle. But there was no ripple of movement of anyone moving forward, no familiar blonde gliding through the ranks.

  After a couple of seconds, the applause started dying out and people looked around. Anxiety clawed at his chest.

  “Has anyone seen Paige?” Kellie, now at his side with the arrangement balanced on one arm, saved him from having to ask the question.

  There was silence for a few seconds, then a voice called from the back. “I saw her step out the stage door during the final set. Thought she was just taking a breather.”

  Josh caught Connor’s eye, raised an eyebrow, and had an entire conversation in two seconds. Josh moved into the wings, the clawing in his chest unleashing to something more crushing, as he heard Connor’s voice asking people to bow their heads.

  At the back of the stage, Josh pushed open the door that led out into a pitch-black alley. A distant streetlight at the end cast a flicker of light in his direction.

  His eyes searched the space as well as they could. No Paige. He closed the door behind him, and walked toward the entrance of the alley, footsteps echoing around him. Surely she wouldn’t have gone wandering in a strange city at night. Would she?

  A shiver crept up his spine. Christchurch didn’t rate at all compared to some of the dodgy cities he’d played in, but there wasn’t any city in the world where he’d be happy with a woman being out alone late at night.

  Jogging to the front of the alley, he turned left and found himself in front of the venue staring at a promotional poster for Due North. Through the doors, he could see the merchandise tables being packed up, and cleaners at work.