Placing the three hairs in her purse, she gave it to Lily. “Can you keep an eye on my purse until I come back?”
Lily placed it on her lap, giving Penni a reproachful glance. “Yes.”
“Ginny, don’t do anything hasty because you’re mad at me. I was only trying to help.”
Standing, Ginny spoke in her friend’s ear, “I can’t hear you because of the noise.”
Penni’s mouth snapped closed.
Rising to frantically scan the room for exits, she spotted one, uncaring of the shouts from the crowd calling her name. Then Penni caught her wrist just as the DJ called her name again.
“You might not want to sing”—Penni raised her voice, stopping her from escaping out the side door that she had just spotted—“but the woman who wrote the song I read does. You’re not being fair to her or yourself. You’re good, Ginny. So damn good it breaks my heart that you’re hiding that part of you.”
Struggling against Penni’s hold, her arm went limp at her impassioned words that described the turmoil she felt each time she opened the box in the back of her closet to put another notebook inside of songs she had written.
Ginny’s face twisted in grief. “I can’t …” It wasn’t fair to sing when so many lives could be destroyed. Had she sacrificed enough to earn the release of that little girl’s dreams? She couldn’t explain any of that to Penni nor to the others who wanted her to get on that stage.
“Zoey will sing with you. Just sing one, then come back,” Penni urged.
Zoey’s anxious gaze showed she would.
She started to feel the pressure from the mounting yells and from her table mouthing their encouragements, except for Kaden and Sawyer who were talking quietly, disregarding the raised shouts going on around them. She was making a spectacle out of herself by letting the crowd reach a fever pitch to persuade her and drawing more attention by refusing than she would by giving in to their demands.
Giving Penni the cold shoulder, she started making her way toward Zoey as the life coach struggled to get away from Stump’s grip when she wanted to rise from the table. Ginny was relieved her silent pleas were answered when Stump released her hand. Making their way to the stage, Zoey took her hand to give her encouragement. Ginny wanted to tell her that she didn’t need it; she needed a brain transplant.
She should have run when she had gotten out the car and saw where they were, or she should have gone to the restroom and stayed there until Lily had texted her that they were ready to go to the restaurant. She hadn’t done either because, deep down, the younger version of herself had been crying to get out, to share her voice and draw people into her world, making people stop just to listen. Listen to her.
Using her hand in Zoey’s to force her closer to the microphone, she stood slightly behind her as DJ started playing “In My Blood.” Letting Zoey start Black Stone Cherry’s famous song, the beginning of an idea came to her. She could masquerade her voice, sing the notes wrong, and wreck the lyrics like someone that was tone deaf.
Singing softly, she tried, she really did, for a second, and then she couldn’t bring herself to disrespect the songwriters. They had poured their heart into the lyrics, and she couldn’t do anything less than give them her best effort. She could rationale the reasons she was still on the stage when, truthfully, it was simple: she couldn’t help it any more than she could stop breathing. She had been created for two purposes: to sing and to be with her soulmate. Her soulmate was gone, but singing was still there, waiting for her. Turning her back on one would be like turning her back on the other.
Freddy hadn’t allowed his children to go to church until Saul Cornett had left town. Her father had been the one to teach his children his beliefs in God. He had taught each of them that they had a place in God’s heart, and that giving their best would make them stand out in God’s eyes like a bright star in a sky filled with a zillion others.
As each of the notes in the song played, Zoey pushed her forward. Ginny didn’t resist, letting the worry, fear, and feelings of regret loosen their bonds on her, allowing her voice to reach its full volume.
As the song trailed off, the crowd started clapping and stomping for more.
Seeing the list of songs on the overhead monitor, she mouthed the Halsey’s song, “Bad at Love,” riding the wave of temptation to keep performing and not noticing that Zoey was no longer singing and had stepped away from the microphone.
When that song ended, the audience went crazy again. The shrill whistles brought her back to Earth. Grabbing Zoey’s hand, she jumped down from the stage and rushed by the crowd that now blocked her from reaching their table.