Then There Was You Read online

  They never saw fit to mention the pastor’s new Mercedes or the five-star staff “retreats”.

  Paige blinked. Pastor Tyler had already moved on to a notice about a food bank drive and asking for prayer for a missionary family in Uganda. The guy next to her handed her the offering bag and she passed it on to Kat. She watched as the ushers at the end of the aisles gathered them all up and walked toward the back.

  That was it? There must be some darkness hidden under this shiny exterior. Whatever it was, they covered it well.

  She turned to see her cousin looking at her. See. I told you, Kat mouthed.

  Paige returned to face the front, the feeling of disquiet growing stronger. A church couldn’t be this big, this wealthy, without something being wrong with it. And she was going to find out what.

  Josh had no idea how his father could stand behind that pulpit and preach the way he did when people were doing their best to destroy him behind the scenes.

  He clicked the last clasps on his guitar case shut, watching from his crouched position on the stage as his parents talked with the mob of people who accosted them after every service. Every person was treated as if they were the only one wanting their attention. No quick and easy getaway out the back doors for the Tylers. For as long as he could remember, his parents had stayed behind at the end of every service to talk to anyone who approached them. Most weeks they didn’t get a chance between services to get so much as a bathroom break before the next one started.

  An attractive middle-aged blonde woman was talking to his father. Her fingers rested on his forearm and she leaned forward, intent on invading his personal space. Josh wasn’t the only one watching her. His mother’s gaze was assessing the situation every other second, even as she talked to the person in front of her. One of the associate pastors was also keeping a close eye from the side, ready to intervene if given the signal.

  And there it was. His father reached up and tugged his ear. His mother extricated herself from her conversation and made her way over to her husband, a charming smile fixed on her face.

  Greg and Janine Tyler always had each other’s backs. That was the only reason they’d survived everything that had been thrown at them.

  “How blatant was it?”

  Josh looked up to see his little sister had snuck up on him. “Was what?”

  Sarah tilted her dark head toward where his parents stood. “That woman hitting on Dad. Mum looks like she wants to rip her throat out.”

  She was right. To anyone her didn’t know her well, Janine Tyler would appear to be having a perfectly convivial conversation. But her smile was a shade too bright and the way she had her arm around her husband’s waist while positioning herself slightly in front of him signaled a woman marking her territory.

  Whether they liked it or not, appearances mattered. Especially in Christian circles. A fact the Tyler family had learned the hard way. More than once.

  “And what’s the latest with the sexual harassment case?” Sarah dropped her volume a notch as Josh stood, guitar heavy in his hand.

  Josh glanced around to make sure no one else was near them. “How do you know about that?” His parents were notorious at keeping stuff like that to themselves. The only reason he knew was because the latest accuser alleged one of the “incidents” had occurred in the recording studio. A place where Greg Tyler never went, didn’t even have a key for, and on a date the logs showed the band had been using all day for an album rehearsal.

  “I didn’t. I just guessed. Thanks.” His sister’s nursing studies took up most of her time so she wasn’t privy to a lot of what went on at the church. But she had always been a people watcher and could usually tell before he could when their parents were under unusual stress.

  Josh hefted his satchel over his shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s even more baseless than usual. She didn’t work for Dad and, as far as anyone can work out, the only time they were even in a meeting together it was with about ten other people.” He made his way toward the wings.

  “Well, at least that’s something. Let’s go check with them where we’re meeting for lunch. I’ll ride with you.” Sarah headed for the stairs leading down onto the auditorium floor.

  “You go. I have a couple of things to finish here. I’ll meet you by the back door.”

  His sister turned to face him, wearing a smirk. “C’mon, big bro. Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

  “Little sis, the day I need you to protect me, you’ll be the first to know.” He wasn’t afraid. It was that the stage was his safe place. No one was allowed up here except the worship team and the stage crew, but the moment he stepped off it into the auditorium . . . well, he didn’t have his own version of Janine Tyler to watch his back. So it was better not to leave it exposed.

  “Who is it that you don’t trust? Them or yourself?”

  Her question stopped him in his tracks.

  Sarah tilted her head at him. “What? You think no one notices that every time you play you duck out the back door rather than run the risk of maybe having to talk to a girl who hasn’t passed your CIA level screening process? Heaven forbid you might actually meet someone you like.”

  “You don’t get it, Sarah.” He was glad she didn’t. At least one of them was sheltered from some of what came with being a Tyler.

  His sister touched his arm. “Maybe not. But she was a long time ago, Josh. You’re not that guy anymore.”

  Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. He’d prefer not to find out for sure.

  Eight

  Monday. Paige approached the familiar double doors. The fall breeze ruffled the leaves of the gum trees that dotted the campus.

  Her toes curled as she stared up at the glass. She worked here. She worked here.

  She shifted on her feet, still feeling off-kilter from the service yesterday. She’d listened to the sermon with intense focus, trying to find murky theology, half expecting a rah-rah feel-good message that could have served as a generic life coaching pep talk. But no, Greg preached from the Bible. Sure, there were a few examples and anecdotes thrown in for illustration, but mostly he spent his forty minutes unpacking the first ten verses of James. Paige had spent the rest of the day rattled. Worst of all, she wanted to come back next week for the second part of the series.

  The now-familiar cacophonic screech of the kookaburra pulled her eyes upwards to the exotic birds dotting the tree canopy above. It was so loud it drowned out the myriad of other bird calls. Stupid squat long-beaked brown bird.

  “Looking for drop bears?” Emily moved with surprising stealth for someone carrying such a large load.

  Paige blew out a sigh of relief at not having to go into the building alone. “Sorry, what?”

  “Drop bears.” Emily held her hands about fifteen inches apart. “Angry little creatures with super sharp claws. About yay big, look a bit like a koala but nastier. Occasionally drop out of gum trees onto people.” She shook her head, auburn curls bouncing, “If you ever get attacked, hit the ground and roll. They get disorientated easily so that will usually buy you time to get free.

  The hairs on the back of Paige’s neck stood up as she scanned the tops of the trees closest by. Was one watching her right now?

  “Don’t worry,” Emily said. “They mostly come out at night. And we haven’t had an attack on campus in years. I’m sure you’ll be fine as long as you don’t go for long late-night strolls under gum trees.”

  Fantastic. Yet another thing to add to the list of what could kill her in this crazy country: spiders, snakes, lizards, jellyfish, and now a zombie bear. And she’d just reassured Mom this morning that Australia was perfectly safe.

  “C’mon.” Emily grabbed her arm. “I was planning to take you for a tour first thing so we had might as well do it now.”

  They wandered across the lawn in the direction of a small squat building.

  “So how many people go here?”

  “Just this campus or all of them?”

  “Um. All?”


  Emily crinkled her brow. “This one, I think about ten thousand across five services. Maybe another ten across all the others.”

  Paige stopped in her tracks. “Doesn’t it all just seem a little bit . . . big? I mean look at this.” She waved her arms around at the huge grounds and the buildings.

  Emily laughed. “I can’t believe you think this is big. Honey, I’ve been to America. You could bathe a small African village in your regular-sized Coke cups.”

  She couldn’t deny that.

  “C’mon.” Emily waddled on ahead of her. “I want to show you the recording studio. I heard some of the crew are rehearsing today for the new album.”

  Interesting place to start. “Am I going to be working with the band at some point?”

  Emily glanced over her shoulder. “Possibly. They have their own logistics people, but here if any team is ever caught short, anyone on staff who is able to help out does.”

  Paige had worked with a band once before in her professional life. It was the only job she’d quit after being handed a wad of cash and told to procure goods and services that were both illegal and immoral.

  Due North could only be an improvement.

  “Dude. What is wrong with you?” Connor winced as Josh hit a wrong note and messed up the lyrics. For the fourth time. “The way you’re playing, it sounds like Jesus died and stayed that way.”

  Josh looked at Amanda as she took off her earphones and nodded. “Seriously little bro, that was pretty awful.”

  “Sorry, guys.” Josh slipped his guitar strap over his head. “I think I’m having an off day.” He stretched out his fingers. He’d been struggling ever since the three of them had started practicing at seven, trying to get a jump on some of the new songs before the rest of the team came in at nine-thirty.

  Connor and Amanda exchanged glances.

  “Dude, you are not having an off day. You are not even having an off week. If this keeps going, you’re going to be having an off month.” His brother-in-law took a swig of water.

  “Oh c’mon. It hasn’t been that bad.” Josh leaned against the window that separated the studio from the production booth. But even he knew it was.

  “Yes, it has.” Amanda nudged her hip against his. “And you know it. Seriously, you haven’t been on good form since you got back and that was over two weeks ago. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” He groaned. “It’s like I left my mojo in the States.”

  “Oh my gosh.” Connor slapped his palm against his forehead. “How could we have been so stupid?” He cast Amanda a meaningful glance, and her eyes widened.

  “Amy?”

  Connor nodded sagely. “Yup.”

  Amanda pursed her lips. “Of course. But we can’t blame ourselves. It’s been a long time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Josh glanced between them.

  Amanda rounded on him. “The last time you lost your mojo was after Amy.” Who he’d dated for six months four years ago before they’d mutually agreed to go their separate ways. Or so he’d thought until she popped up on the cover of a women’s magazine with a tell-all pack of lies slandering his family, and a sob story about how he’d broken her heart.

  “And the only other time was . . . well, her.” Eight years, and his sister still couldn’t bring herself to say Narelle’s name.

  “You can say her name, Amanda. I’m not going to start rocking in a corner.” That should kill this stupid conversation. Any mention of the girl who was almost his undoing usually got the subject changed at warp speed.

  “So tell, who is she?”

  Apparently not today.

  “Any new girls in the band?” Connor directed the question to Amanda, who thought for a second and then shook her head.

  “No, although I’m planning auditions for a couple of new vocalists. Any new single girls on staff?”

  “Seriously, you two. There’s no one.” This was ridiculous.

  Amanda turned to Connor. “Where’s he been recently without us?”

  Connor ran his hand through his hair, ruffling as he thought. Then a slow smile crossed his face. “Chicago. That conference after we finished the tour!”

  Amanda let out a squeal. “Oh, you met an American. What’s her name? Is she Southern? I would totally love a sister-in-law who says ‘y’all’. It’s soooo cute!”

  The next thing he knew, Connor had started tapping out Love is in the Air on the keys. This was getting way out of hand.

  “You’re both deluded. For your information, the only girl I met in Chicago worth mentioning was a total unco at the airport who almost broke my foot. And she was not my type. At all.”

  “Sounds like the perfect meet cute.”

  His sister had totally lost him. “Perfect what?”

  “In the movies when the couple meets for the first time. It’s called a meet cute.”

  “You’ve watched too many chick-flicks. It wasn’t a meeting and she wasn’t cute. Sorry to disappoint.” Liar. His conscience scalded him.

  Amanda rolled her eyes. “Well that’s a shame, because without a sob story about meeting the girl of your dreams but being cruelly torn apart by fate, you’re just being a grump and you need to get over it.”

  A cough diverted all eyes to the doorway. Emily stood there, her body half turned toward the hallway as if preparing to make a hasty departure. “Sorry for interrupting. We can come back later if now’s a bad time.”

  “No, no, of course not.” Amanda waved her in. “My little brother is just in a snit for some unknown reason.”

  Emily took a step through the doorway. “We’ll be quick. I wanted to introduce you to Paige McAllister. She’s me for the next six months. Paige, this is Amanda, Connor, and Josh.”

  Josh had totally missed the second person, half-hidden behind Emily’s belly. As she stepped forward, his mouth went dry. It couldn’t be. There was no way.

  But it was. And judging by the look she was giving him, she’d heard every word.

  Paige strode down the hallway. She wasn’t his type ‘at all’, huh? Well that was perfect because good-looking jerks weren’t hers either.

  Almost broke his foot. Whatever. She was like one-forty sopping wet while he had to be close to having a two in front of his weight. And she’d barely touched his foot. Maybe, maybe, she’d overlapped with a few toes. At most.

  How was it possible? How could airport guy and worship guy be one and the same? What a hypocrite—Sunday, all arms raised, singing hymns like he meant it. Monday, first class moron.

  Not his type. He should be so lucky. She was fun and intelligent and witty and—

  “Hey.” Emily’s puffing broke through her thoughts. “Not sure if you missed the memo but pregnant women aren’t so good at sprinting. Especially short ones.”

  “Sorry.” Paige slowed her stride.

  “Closest bathrooms are just around the corner.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well I assume that’s why you’re striding it out like some model on Project Runway. It’s certainly the only thing that gets me moving with any speed these days.”

  Good idea. She needed a few minutes to cool down. “That would be great, thanks.” A thought struck her. “Emily?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What does unco mean?”

  “As in if I was to say ‘You’re a total unco’?”

  Paige shrugged. “Sure.”

  “It’s short for uncoordinated.”

  What! “I am not! I was on the varsity volleyball team. And I played violin. Do you know how fast your fingers have to go to play the violin?”

  “I’m going to guess pretty fast.” Emily stopped and looked at her like she was worried about her mental welfare.

  “Very fast!” A twinge trailed up her arm. What she wouldn’t give for her fingers to be able to fly over the frets, the bow dancing across the strings, the way they used to.

  “Well then I’m sure you never have to worry about being called unco.” Emily gave her
a bemused look. “Did I miss something? It’s not like Josh was talking about you.”

  Paige scrambled to save herself from falling into the hole she had just dug. “I . . . I felt sorry for the poor girl he was talking about.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He was just blowing off steam. The poor guy can’t even walk around campus without being propositioned by some girl gagging to take our most eligible bachelor off the market.”

  Paige shrugged her shoulders, tried to maintain a neutral facade. “Really? I can’t say he’s my type.”

  Emily turned left into a smaller side hallway, a sign denoting the women’s bathrooms on a door at the end of the corridor. “Huh. I thought super cute, men of God who are incredible musicians would be everyone’s type.”

  “I’ve generally found musicians to be arrogant.” She wasn’t going to bother denying the good-looking part. His looks were a matter of fact rather than opinion. She refused to acknowledge the tingle that ran up her spine at seeing him again. Tingles were bad. She’d wasted six years on a self-absorbed jerk who gave her tingles.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that he can put up a bit of a wall and he wasn’t at his most charming. But once you get to know him, he’s a super great guy.”

  As far as Paige was concerned, he could take a flying leap. “Then I’m sure he’ll have no problem finding himself a super great girl.”

  It was a big campus. Huge. They could easily avoid each other. And from the look of horror on his face when he saw her, he felt exactly the same way.

  Nine

  Josh slammed the front door behind him, the resounding impact providing the smallest bit of satisfaction.

  The day had been a wash. Okay, he’d been a wash. Not even a blistering run at lunchtime had managed to shake him out of his funk, and it showed. He’d ended up abandoning the team to Connor and Amanda mid-afternoon, after it had become obvious they’d all be better off without him and his sausage fingers messing up every line.