Little Do We Know(78)

“Good-bye.” I crinkled my forehead, preparing to produce fake tears. “Good-bye, world. Good-bye, Grover’s Corners…Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking…and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths…and sleeping and waking up.”

As I said the words, everything came rushing over me like a wave. And I suddenly understood the whole play. Tyler had tried to tell me that day on the platform, but I didn’t get it, not really. Now I did.

I didn’t need to know what happened when our time on earth came to an end. I just wanted to be here, soaking it in, squeezing every drop out of my life. Appreciating little things, like chocolate chip cheesecake and Christmas ornaments and patches of grass and best friends. Sleeping and waking up.

I let my eyes fall shut, and I felt the warmth of the spotlight on my face.

A tear slid down my cheek. I hadn’t faked it.

I opened my eyes and looked out into the audience. “Oh, earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you.”

I felt another tear, and another one, but I didn’t wipe them away. And then I locked my eyes on Luke and said my final line, just for him. “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it every, every minute?”





Inside the sanctuary, everything was the managed chaos I expected to find. Dad was up onstage, dispensing jobs in that calm way of his, and the room was full of people at work, placing printed programs on seats, draping the offering table at the front of the room, and setting up the refreshments. The crew was testing the lights and the projection system.

Alyssa, Logan, and Jack were together onstage, mic-ing one another up with the lavaliers.

“How’s that?” Alyssa asked as she looked up in the sound booth. Aaron must have replied in her ear, because she gave him a big smile and a thumbs-up. Then she saw me. She came barreling down the steps and threw her arms around my shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re home. Come back to the music room, we need a quick rehearsal.”

“I have to talk to my dad first.” I threaded my arm through hers and pulled her along for protection and moral support. Dad saw me coming and met me halfway.

“Luke isn’t going to be here tonight,” I said.

I’m not sure how Dad would have taken the news if we’d been alone, but since there were so many people around, hanging on his every word, he took it in stride.

“Well, that’s okay. That gives us about five minutes to fill in the program, but we can figure something out,” he said cheerfully as he scanned the room. Logan and Jack were right behind me, and Alyssa was at my side. Seeing the four of us together like that must have given him the idea he needed.

“Let’s do a second SonRise song. You can start us off and wrap up the night.”

I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through one song, let alone two. I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be in the front row at Foothill High School watching Our Town, rooting on Emory. I didn’t want to be anywhere else, and I certainly didn’t want to be in Dad’s sanctuary any longer than I had to be. If it wasn’t for SonRise I would have blown the whole thing off.

Dad snapped his fingers. “How about ‘Dare You.’ That’s one of my favorites. And that last line is so perfect: ‘I dare you to be here now.’ That’s the kind of message we want to close with anyway.”

“It’s perfect,” Jack said.

“We’ll sing it without percussion,” Logan added. “Just straight-up harmony, like we did at Northern Lights.”

“Fine,” I said as I walked away. I didn’t care what we sang. I didn’t care about BU or attendance at Admissions Night. I didn’t even care what Dad and Aaron had done to Luke. I just couldn’t wait for the night to be over so I could get back to my room, stand in my window, and wait for Emory to come home.



By 7:00, every seat in the room was taken and there were people lined up along the back wall. I expected some of them to leave when Dad announced that Luke couldn’t be there in person, but no one did.

SonRise took the stage and kicked everything off with “Brighter Than Sunshine,” like we’d planned. I was working overtime to meet eyes with people in the crowd, not only because I knew that was part of my job, but also because it kept me from having to look at Aaron. When we were finished, we took our seats to the side of the stage and watched the next performances.

Dad talked about the school, introduced the drama and dance groups, talked about the music program, and introduced the band. We were nearing the end of the program and everything was going off without a hitch. Dad was passionate and charming and funny. He connected with the kids in the room like he always did.

He introduced SonRise, and the four of us took our spots at the center of the stage.

Dad once told me our music was just as important as his sermons, and we should always choose them the same way. “Think about the people you’re performing for,” he’d said. “You know the lyrics backward and forward, but the people in the audience are hearing it sung this way for the first time, and they’re hanging on your every word. Think about what people in the congregation need to hear.”

Now we smiled out at the audience, meeting eyes with a few people, trying to make a link before we even began. Aaron stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms extended, ready to direct us.