Josh dragged his tired body up the steps of the bus entrance. One more show, and then he could take a few days off for Thanksgiving. He tossed his black carry-on bag onto the jump seat and greeted Danny. The look on Danny's face told him something was wrong.

"Is everything okay?"

"No," Danny said. "I just talked to Daddy, and my mom's back in the hospital." His driver's massive shoulders trembled. "I'm worried about her."

"Keep your chin up, man. I'm praying. For your daddy too."

"I appreciate it."

"Do you need to fly home? Mitch can drive us the rest of the way."

"My dad told me to finish the trip. We'll be there in forty-eight hours." Danny offered a weak smile. "Are you ready to roll?"

"Everyone here?"

"Yup, in their bunks. Except for Ryan. He's working in the back lounge."

"Let's go. Keep us safe, man." Josh slapped his driver on the shoulder and turned toward the rear of the bus.

The bus transmission engaged as Josh entered the bunkroom hallway. He prepared for a slight bump forward, readying his bus legs, a term seasoned road warriors used to describe the ability to stay balanced on a forward-moving, sideways-swaying bus.

He opened his closet door and dropped his bag onto the floor. The space wasn't much bigger than a broom closet, but he had just enough room to squeeze in a small bag and a couple weeks' worth of hanging clothes.

Josh walked past seven identical closets and four curtained bunks on his way to the back lounge. He opened the door and stuck his head inside.

"Hey, you planning to work all night?"

"Just finishing up with the merchandise reports," Ryan said, shuffling papers.

"How's it going?" Josh stepped fully into the room.

"Fine. No problem. If Mitch-" Ryan's words were obscured by the squall of air brakes. "What in the deuce is that driver doing now? I'm going to give him a piece of my mind." Ryan set his papers aside and made an effort to stand. When he did, the bus lunged forward throwing him back into his seat. He cursed and started to get up again. "He's the roughest driver I've-"

"Stay here," Josh ordered. "He's in heavy traffic."

Ryan's jaw tightened. He threw his hands up in disgust and, with mock compliance, settled back into his seat, again picking up his paperwork.

"Try to get some sleep. You're tired and grumpy." Josh turned to leave and then had a second thought. "By the way, if I ever hear you mention my wife's name in a bad light again, I will fire you immediately."

Ryan's face turned a deep shade of red. He choked out an unintelligible response.

"I'm glad we understand each other." Josh closed the bunkroom door and walked toward the front of the bus. Running his fingers through his hair, he pondered the distance between his driver and his road manager.

The only rub Josh had ever seen between Danny and anyone on the road had been with Ryan. Everyone seemed to like Danny. Although he was large enough to push his weight around, he chose to temper himself. He was a gentle giant in all aspects of his life, including his faith.

Ryan, on the other hand, was lean and fast with a runner's body and an aggressive nature. He was an extraordinary musician, who held a degree in business, and was an excellent multitasker. Ryan had the charm of a politician when he wanted to use it. But it seemed that he chose to use it less and less lately.

Perhaps more than anyone here, Josh understood that road managing was a thankless task. That was one reason he tried to go easy on Ryan, despite complaints from everyone he worked with.

Coordinating a tour required a laundry list of skills. Most musicians focused on creative things and needed help getting from point A to point B. Ryan was a take-charge guy. He was like a good doctor with a bad bedside manner.

Ryan was a cattle herder, but his position ultimately required a shepherd. Josh hoped he could learn to see the difference. A good attitude could always accomplish more than sarcasm and arrogance.

After changing into a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt, Josh crawled into his bunk. Two more nights and he could sleep in his own bed for a few days. He pulled the bunk curtain closed, shutting out the world the best he could, but his mind kept churning. He couldn't afford to lose his road manager or his driver in the middle of a major tour. He needed Ryan, even if he wasn't perfect.

Too many personal issues required Josh's time right now. He had a lot to do when he got home. Alex needed a break from caregiving. And the baby's room had to be painted before Beth could start the decorating she had planned.

For now, he would relax in his bunk and pray for God's help with all the strength he could muster. He would pray for Danny's mom, and for Beth, and for the baby. He had to believe that everything would be okay. God answered prayer. He had to believe that more now than ever. He had to trust that everything would work out.

17.

Present Day Josh ran his hand along the smooth, perfectly restored, antique table in Alex's kitchen. "We appreciate the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner."

"Glad to have you," Alex said before turning to Beth. "Some people will do anything to avoid cooking."

"Actually, I'm just too busy visiting the emergency room." Beth returned the joust.

"That's not what you told me Sunday." Alex lobbed one back.

"Ouch." Beth laughed.

"The two of you are having way too much fun while I'm on the road." Josh said. He hadn't seen his wife this relaxed in weeks. "I'm sorry I've missed it."

"Oh, lots of fun," Alex said, stirring a pot on the stove. "It was hilarious walking into your kitchen and seeing Beth on the floor in a pool of blood."

"It wasn't that bad," Beth winced.

"Okay, maybe not a pool of blood. But you scared me."

"It's my hobby. Scaring people." Beth winked at Josh.

"Well, you're good at it." Alex dumped a bowl of cranberries into the hot pot.

"So what happened, exactly?" Josh had heard the story over the phone, without the details.

"It was my fault," Alex said.

"No, it wasn't. It was Buster's fault." Beth stroked the black-and-white terrier snuggled in her lap. "Of course, I had some liability in the matter too." Her face clouded over. "It's just that I wanted to do something for myself for a change."

"You need to relax and enjoy the pampering while you can," Josh told her.

"Read a book or two," Alex said, still stirring the pot of cranberries.

"Great idea, but I can't focus enough right now to read." Beth blushed and averted her eyes to the dog.

Josh studied his wife. She appeared childlike, vulnerable. More so than when he had first brought her home from the hospital.

"Just do your best, Mama. That's all you can do." Alex walked over to the table with a pate knife, celery, and cheese spread. "Can you fill these stalks with pimento?"

"As long as it's a dull knife." Beth smiled and pushed the dog off her lap. "Scoot, Buster. I need to wash my hands so I can help with dinner."

Josh watched her disappear down the hall. "I've been concerned about her."

"I can understand why," Alex said. "She's having a tough time. One minute she's on the top of the world, and the next she's sobbing uncontrollably. I never know which Beth I'll find when I get her up in the morning."

He nodded.

"I feel terrible about Sunday, you know? She usually sleeps in until I wake her."

"You're doing a great job. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, no!" Alex froze.

"What's wrong?"

"My contact slipped out." Alex poked around on her face with her index finger. "Josh, can you help me?"

"Sure." Josh tripped over the dog when he scrambled out of the chair to assist her. "Sorry, Buster." The dog groused, walked to the edge of the room, and lay down. "Where did you lose it?"

"That's the problem. I don't know." Alex grinned. "I'm hoping it's still on my cheek." She stood perfectly still. "Do you see it?"

"Turn your face to the light," Josh told her. "And hold your head up."

Alex readjusted her position.

"No. Like this." Josh gently tilted her chin while searching among the freckles for the lens.

"Can you see it? I hope I didn't drop it into the food." Her body shook as she squelched a chuckle.

"I'm not sure what you two girls have been drinking today, but you're both in a mood. Hold still." Josh moved his face closer. "I see it."

"Ouch!"

"What's going on?" Beth asked, as she walked into the room.

Josh and Alex were laughing so hard, tears streamed down their faces.

"Josh . . ." Alex couldn't catch her breath. "Josh . . ." She tried again to speak. "Sorry. Give me a minute." She fanned her face.

Josh wiped moisture from his eyes. "I was trying to find Alex's contact lens." He looked at Alex and grinned, and then back to Beth. "And I . . . I almost had it." He chuckled. "Until I stepped on her foot."

He held his stomach and doubled over with laughter.

"I don't get it," Beth said.

"That's not the best part." Alex regained control of her speech. "The funny part is when the dog farted."

"Poor Buster, are they picking on you?" Beth cooed.

Josh smiled. The girls had had him in stitches all afternoon.

A ringing phone interrupted the mood. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Danny Stevens's name appeared in the viewer. "Hey, man, happy Thanksgiving."

"My mom passed away." His friend's voice faded into silence, broken only by heavy breathing.

"Oh . . . no. I'm sorry." Josh tried to find the appropriate words. "Is there anything I can do?"

"We're not sure what we are going to do yet." Danny sniffed back tears. "You know, with the funeral and all. We don't have any plans."

"Let me know when you do, and I'll get the word out to everyone," Josh said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. Just pray for us. That's the main thing. Just pray."

Josh hung up the phone. Why did the idea of praying seem unsettling to him? Hadn't he prayed for Danny's mom for months? Now she was gone.

Just when he had begun to believe that everything would be okay, he had more soul searching to do.

18.

Present Day The parking lot had already begun to fill up when Josh and Beth arrived at Faith Chapel. The small country church rested snugly in a grove of trees near the north side of Wilson County, thirty miles outside of Nashville. Josh recognized several of the cars in the gravel lot as those of his band and crew. Shane's red convertible, Mitch's old pickup truck, and Ryan's black Mercedes with vanity plates that boldly proclaimed his "superstar" status.

Josh backed his Jeep Cherokee into a space alongside the church. He nodded a greeting to an older couple as he walked to the passenger side to open the door for Beth. She looked stunning in the black dress she had purchased yesterday on a quick shopping excursion with Alex.

This was Beth's first real outing since her hospitalization. He was concerned if she would have the stamina to sit through a funeral and a graveside service. But she had said she wanted to be supportive of Danny and his family, and to him.

Josh had agreed to sing one of Nell Stevens's favorite hymns, accompanied by Shane on the guitar. Shane and he had run through the song last night at the house. Singing at funerals had to be the worst gig in the world, but it was something all singers were asked to do at one time or another.

Singing to a grieving family wasn't easy. But it was a gift that remained with the family for years to come. Music left an indelible impression on people's lives, memories that would be relived every time they heard the song.

As he and Beth walked arm-in-arm toward the front of the church, Josh spotted Danny standing on the concrete stoop outside the entrance. Danny's skin appeared as pale as the early patch of snow lying in the shadows of the bare oak trees around them.

"Danny looks nice in his suit. I don't think I've ever seen him so dressed up," Beth whispered in Josh's ear. "But he still reminds me of the Pillsbury Doughboy." Her eyes danced with mischief.