Unlocked (31 page)

As Holden’s song grew, so did his confidence. He looked at Ella and then at Susan, the flute player. Then his eyes found the first row and he sang straight to Michael’s mother. “A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices … for yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn.”

Michael’s mother nodded, tears streaming down her face. Ella noticed Holden’s parents holding hands, and she saw that they were crying too. Then her eyes found her own mom. She was as broken by Holden’s performance as anyone in the room. Maybe more. Ella breathed deep, and tears fell onto her own cheeks. This was what they needed, what they all needed. Holden’s song.

He looked from his parents to the kids in the audience. “Truly He taught us to love one another … His law is love and His gospel is peace.”

Holden had never sounded more beautiful, not in any of their private rehearsal moments. It was as if he’d lived all his life to sing this song, to share the message of true hope and kindness with his classmates in this, one of their darkest hours. The thing with Holden was every word mattered. He didn’t talk much—though Ella believed he would one day. But his heart came through in music, and the message now was unmistakable.

“Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother … and in His name, all oppression shall cease …”

Ella felt as if God Himself was in attendance, as if His Holy
Spirit was flooding the room with a sense of awakening, a sense of understanding and compassion that before today was completely foreign on the campus of Fulton High. Holden Harris was singing his heart out. If this were
American Idol,
the judges would’ve been crying—Ella was convinced.

The song came to an end and Ella didn’t have to worry about whether she should hug Holden. He put his arm around her shoulders and held her close for a long few seconds. At the same time, the students began to clap. First a few scattered throughout the gym, and then more kids, and finally the gym was rocking with the sort of applause they never gave even for playoff basketball games.

The sound convinced Ella that at least some of what had been shared that morning had gotten through to them. She believed that. Holden seemed nonplussed by the applause, almost unaware of it. And this time he didn’t clap along. Instead, he took the music and lyrics to “O Holy Night,” he stepped off the stage, and he walked back to the first row. When he reached Michael’s mother, he stopped and handed her the sheet of paper. With that, he sat down beside his parents.

Ella had a longer speech planned, but in light of Holden’s song and all she’d already said, she wanted to share just one more thing. “This spring, Fulton will put on a musical—
Beauty and the Beast.”
She was more composed now, the tears in her eyes not enough to stop her from pushing through her final message. “It’s the story about not judging anyone by their outer appearance.” She caught Holden looking straight at her, and they shared a smile. “Because locked inside the less perfect people might be a prince.”

The students were listening.

“This spring, I and the other theater kids need you to come see the show. Otherwise this school will cancel the drama program,
and kids like Michael and Holden—kids like me—won’t have anywhere to sing.”

She hesitated, unabashed in her plea. “If you have any regret about Michael Schwartz, any thought that if you could do it over again you would’ve smiled at him or complimented him, or maybe even defended him from a bully … then you can do this one thing. You can come see the play. When you do … look at the orchestra, the school band. Missing will be one flute player. Michael Schwartz.

“Let’s have him be the only Fulton student missing.” She looked at Michael’s parents. “I’m sorry. We’re all so … so sorry.”

His parents nodded, and around the room Ella was pleased to hear some of the kids softly crying. She closed the service by praying. Never mind that this was a public school or that she wasn’t very experienced or good at praying. God didn’t care—Holden’s mother had told her that much. He wanted the hearts of his people, not perfect prayers.

“We need you here at Fulton, dear God.” Ella felt the prayer like a cry in her soul. “Forgive us for our indifference and selfishness, and help us learn to love. Let us look more deeply at the kids around us, because all of us are locked up one way or another. And help us listen for the song of each person we come across.” She grabbed a quick breath. “Where there is meanness, let us stop it, let us be kind … and let us be the difference. Help us carry Michael in our hearts every day from here, so that his death will not be in vain. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Ms. Richards dismissed the student body, and the next few minutes passed in a blur. Ella hugged Susan Sessner, and LaShante joined her. “Girl, you have to teach me how to play the flute.” LaShante squeezed Susan’s hand. “I’m going to talk to the band director about joining.”

“Okay.” Susan looked surprised. Girls like Ella and LaShante never talked to girls like Susan. Not before Michael’s death.

After she’d bid a quick good-bye to her mom and Holden’s parents, after she’d hugged Michael’s mother and introduced herself to his father, Ella made her way back to class. She still felt like God had worked a miracle that day. Certainly the kids understood Holden better, and guys like Jake would have a tough time returning to business as usual when it came to mocking their classmates. But the real proof couldn’t possibly be seen just yet.

No, Ella wouldn’t know if her peers really heard her heart, whether they’d really listened to Holden’s song, and whether they wanted to change in the wake of Michael’s death. Not until four months from now.

On opening night for
Beauty and the Beast.

She and Holden left the gym together, and as they passed into the empty hallway Ella smiled at her friend. “You were amazing. And now everyone knows you can sing.”

Holden seemed a little flustered, embarrassed by her compliment. He wrung his hands, keeping up with her but avoiding eye contact.

“I hope they heard us.” She sighed, emotionally drained from all the morning had held. “I really hope they heard us.”

Then, with the most perfect timing ever, Holden lifted his face and began to sing, the words and music speaking straight to Ella’s wounded soul. “A thrill of hope … the weary world rejoices … for yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn.”

And so it was true with Holden, with this new friendship she had found. The thrill of hope lay fresh each morning, and even in the midst of such terrible loss and sadness, Ella could see the sunrise ahead. She willed herself to believe, the way Holden believed, that one day soon would come the day they were all looking for.

A new and glorious morn.

T
RACY HAD NEVER EXPECTED THIS, NOT IN ALL HER LIFE
. N
O MAT
ter how often she had prayed, or how strongly she wanted to believe in a miracle, she couldn’t have imagined Holden standing in front of a packed gymnasium of his peers and singing “O Holy Night.” Not in a million years. And she wasn’t sure whether she was happier about that, or about the fact that Dan was here to see it happen.

Her husband held her hand through the entire memorial service, while Tracy wrestled with her feelings. She ached for Michael’s mother, for the loss they would all take with them every day from here. But it was hard not to think mostly about her own family. How lonely she had been in the months and years without Dan. Yes, he’d made a decent living for them in the waters off Alaska. But she had been alone far too often.

Having him here this morning only reminded her how hard it had been, how much she had needed him. This was how they were supposed to be—holding hands, side by side—whether Holden continued to come back to them or not.

The feel of his hand in hers, his fingers intertwined with her own, felt as right as breathing. And she caught herself praying silently that Dan would stay. That he would stop blaming himself and running from the pain of losing Holden. That he would be part of their family and get a job here in Atlanta.

Then, just before Ella took the stage, Tracy had the feeling someone was watching her. She looked over her right shoulder and what she saw made her heart slam into a crazy mixed-up rhythm. Suzanne Reynolds was sitting a few rows back. Their
eyes met, and Suzanne offered the slightest smile, a smile heavy with remorse and uncertainty.

They both looked away, and the moment ended before it could become anything more. But Tracy sat there shaking, her knees and arms and shoulders trembling. Dan noticed, because he looked at her, curious. But she only shook her head. This wasn’t the time or place. She could tell him later. Besides, what could she say? She’d gone fourteen years without seeing Suzanne Reynolds. As if she needed one more reason to feel overwhelmed this morning.

But all those thoughts ceased once Holden took the stage. From that point on, all Tracy could think about was the miracle playing out before her eyes. Dan was equally stunned, because in all the days since they’d lost Holden, he had always processed his pain quietly. No tears or shaking his fist at God. At first he did what he could to bring Holden back, but then their time together faded to a quiet desperation. And before too many years, Dan left for Alaska. In all the time since Holden’s diagnosis, Tracy had never seen her husband cry about their lot in life.

Until today.

As Holden sang “O Holy Night,” Tracy felt something wet hit the top of her hand. Dan had his fingers between hers, their hands resting on his leg. So when Tracy felt water hit her skin, she looked up and what she saw told her this was a special moment for all of them. A turning point they would never forget.

Because Dan was crying.

No question the journey ahead remained long, and normalcy was still an ideal that might never be reached. But then, Tracy could never have dreamed they’d share this moment. And in the applause that followed Holden’s song, she turned to Dan and the two of them clung to each other. “Please, Dan … don’t leave us again. You can work here.” There had been times over the years when she’d been mad at him for not being there, for choosing
to run from Holden and the life he represented. But all that was behind them now. She pressed her cheek against his. “Please stay. We need you.”

“Let’s talk about it.” He pulled back enough to see her eyes.

“Really.”

As the program drew to an end, a knot formed in Tracy’s stomach. She couldn’t avoid talking to Suzanne Reynolds, not here. When the students were dismissed, Tracy and Dan stood on either side of Holden. Dan said the words Tracy hadn’t heard him say since Holden’s diagnosis. “Holden, son … I’m proud of you. Your song was … well, it was perfect.”

In the movies, Holden would’ve slung his arm around Dan’s shoulders and shrugged off the compliment. “It’s nothing, Dad. But thanks for being here.” The two would’ve shook hands or hugged, and the moment would’ve been registered for all posterity. A memory they’d revisit in years to come.

But this was real life, where scenes had a way of finding their own endings. Holden looked down at the toes of his shoes and rocked a few times. Heel … toe. Heel… toe.

“Holden … can you hear me?”

Tracy willed him to respond, to give them some sign that the song was not an aberration, a fluke never to be seen again. “I’m proud of you, too, Holden. You have a beautiful voice.”

He looked up and nodded, his movements quick and jerky. “Thanks … thank you.” His eyes never actually found their way to either Tracy or Dan, but his words were enough. It was another breakthrough. The first time he’d said anything to his father since he was three years old.

Dan moved to pat Holden on his back, but then stopped, clearly thinking better of his decision. “We’ll, uh … we’ll talk to you later, then, okay?”

Holden nodded and walked a few feet to where Ella was
ready to head to class. She looked back and waved at Tracy and Dan. “I’ll make sure he gets where he needs to go.”

As they left, Dan motioned to Michael’s parents. “I’m going to talk to them.” He glanced the other direction, toward the spot where Suzanne Reynolds was sitting by herself, waiting. Dan kept his voice low, so that only Tracy could hear him. “Go talk to her.”

Tracy sighed. “Pray for me.”

“I will.” He squeezed her hand and headed in the opposite direction, toward the Schwartzes. Tracy felt her palms grow sweaty. What was she supposed to say? After all this time, how could they have any common ground? She eased her purse onto her shoulder and walked back the few rows to where Suzanne was sitting. Their eyes met again, and Tracy registered the effects of time. It seemed just yesterday that they’d been sitting side by side on the swings, Holden on her lap, Ella on Suzanne’s. Two young moms who had been best friends since high school.

But now Suzanne was barely recognizable. Bleached blonde hair and puffy lips. She couldn’t have been bigger than a size 3, and her chest was more filled out than when she was nursing Ella. Tracy had heard rumors in the news now and then about Suzanne’s husband, the fact that Randy Reynolds was washed-up. She hadn’t wanted to believe it back then, but looking at Suzanne there was no denying the brokenness in the eyes of her long-ago friend. The woman seemed miserable in every possible way.

As Tracy walked toward her, she forgot every hurt in her heart, every way she’d felt abandoned and rejected by Suzanne. In this moment there were only the two of them, a couple of former best friends who had once a lifetime ago loved and laughed, and who had both lost much in the years since.

Tracy stopped a few feet away, and Suzanne stood. For a long few seconds, neither of them said anything. Then, as if it was too late for grudges or awkward beginnings, they came together in a long hug.

As they eased apart, Suzanne had fresh tears in her eyes. “Holden was amazing.” She looked at the empty stage, at the place where Holden had performed. “Is this … does he sing very often?”

Tracy crossed her arms, willing her heartbeat to slow back to normal. “Only since he found Ella.”

Suzanne closed her eyes, a wave of quiet sobs hitting her.