After scanning the article, Ana carefully handed the phone back to Chase. She resisted the urge to hurl it across the street. She thought that was quite mature of her.
“He shouldn’t have misled that reporter.” She pressed her lips together, trying not to say nasty things about Ward in front of Chase, who was, after all, his friend. And then she considered how this would make Hannah’s Hope look and she cursed him out loud, despite her good intentions.
Emma frowned in concern and Chase raised his eyebrows.
“He didn’t even consider how bad this is going to make the rest of us look when he doesn’t show up.”
“What makes you think he isn’t going to show?” Chase asked.
Ana rolled her eyes. “He left town on Monday. I haven’t heard a word from him since. If he was going to show, he would have said something.”
“Are you sure he didn’t?” Chase prodded.
“Yes! I’m—” Then she broke off, suddenly unsure. Because the last they had talked about the street fair had been before their big blow up. She had asked him to leave, but had never said anything about not coming here. “I don’t know.”
Suddenly all her nerves about the street fair crystallized into a big knot of anxiety. She wasn’t entirely sure if she could face him again so soon.
But before she could rally her defenses…or even better, leave…she noticed a hush falling over the crowd. Heads started turning and a murmur of excitement flowed up the street toward a spot across from the makeshift stage at the edge of the park. A few feet away from her, she heard a man mention Ward’s name and point toward the stage. She strained onto her toes, but couldn’t see anything over the crowd. If Ward was out there somewhere, she wouldn’t know it until he was right on top of her.
Omar had worked all morning setting up the PA system for the remarks both she and Rafe would make just after noon. Since that was his milieu, she’d left it in his capable hands and hadn’t given it a second thought. Studying it now, she had no way of judging if it was just a normal PA system or something more devious. Like a sound system with which a famous musician might stage his comeback.
She had to stifle a growl of annoyance. How dare he show up here? After almost an entire week of silence? After breaking her heart?
But before the thought could even form in her mind, the frenzy of excitement in the crowd peaked. The masses parted and there he was walking toward her.
Not really walking toward her, of course, but rather toward the stage. Dressed casually in jeans and an untucked white linen shirt, he looked much the same as he had the first day they’d met. His sunglasses were up on his head. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal the tanned strength of his arms.
His progress through the crowd was slow because he stopped to talk to nearly everyone who greeted him. His smile was broad, his eyes crinkling with friendly laughter. There was an air of glamour and mystery about him, despite how casually he was dressed. Maybe it was the sheer magnetism of his personality. Maybe it was simply the way everyone he walked past responded to his presence. Whatever it was, she felt the tug of it herself, deep inside. Buried safe in her heart where no else would ever know it.
And she pushed that feeling even deeper, drawing on the nervous energy that had fueled her for the past week to muster up all the indignation she could.
She quickly excused herself from Emma and Chase and made her way through the crowd toward him. She was still too far away to overhear his words to the people who were stopping him—but she could all too easily imagine the fawning—when Jess stepped up beside him and spoke briefly into his ear. He nodded, then excused himself and made a beeline for the stage. She intercepted him at the steps.
When he spotted her, his expression shifted from the friendly, aren’t-I-a-nice-guy-even-though-I’m-a-star smile to something more reserved. More carefully contained.
She doubted anyone would even notice the subtle change, but it pierced her heart.
Well, two could play that game. She propped her hands on her h*ps and looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. She blocked his path and stood close enough to keep their conversation from interested ears. “What are you doing here?”
“I would have thought that was obvious. The article in the Gazette said I’d take the stage at eleven to say a few words and maybe play a song or two.”
She scowled. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”
His lips curved in a smile that was gently chiding. “Apparently, you don’t read the papers.”
Fourteen
His smile turned dangerously cocky. Like he knew a secret that she didn’t. Like he still had some trick up his sleeve. It was an expression that made her very, very nervous. “If you don’t want to hear me sing, I suggest you go inside. There are a lot of other people who would be disappointed if I don’t. Besides, it’s great publicity for Hannah’s Hope.”
She scanned the crowd, assessing the mood of all the people around her. He was right. Of course he was. Besides, every dollar people spent here today was going straight into Hannah’s Hope’s coffers. And whatever problems she may have with him personally, she knew he’d do a fine job of getting out the right message about the charity.
Still it was with grim resignation that she stepped aside and let him take the stage.
He trotted up the steps and raised a hand to wave at the people on the street. The crowd went wild, energized with sudden excitement. His stride was long and confident as he walked across the stage to the microphone. The very air around him seemed to vibrate with excitement.
She felt the pull of his allure deep in her gut. Was she crazy? There was something so…magnetic about him. For a second, watching him on stage, she honestly couldn’t remember any of the reasons why they’d fought.
So what if he’d never really let her into his heart? So what if the lion’s share of his affection was permanently locked away in his grief? What did any of that matter if she got to be with him?
And then she felt a curious little tug in her heart and she knew that it did matter. She was already in love with him. Time would only make it worse. Her decision may have been cowardly, but it was the only one she could make.
She forced her attention back to the stage, forced herself to listen to what he was saying. He’d already welcomed the crowd and made a laughing promise that he would play a new song—after he said a few words about Hannah’s Hope.
“By now you all know that Hannah’s Hope is about providing basic adult education for the people who need it most.” His voice resonated through the crowd. He was a powerful speaker, giving the impression that his attention was focused on each and every member of the audience. “While Cameron Enterprises is fully committed to funding Hannah’s Hope financially, this is not a problem money alone can solve. Funding can only do so much. We’ve got the money and the resources. Now we need your help.”
He went on for several more minutes, delivering a rousing speech about the need for volunteers to mentor people and, more important, the need for clients to step forward and use the resources that Hannah’s Hope could provide.
Despite that concern still nipping at the back of her mind, it was hard not to catch the excitement coursing through the crowd. She could tell from the expressions on the faces around her. Ward wasn’t just drumming up interest in Hannah’s Hope, he was inspiring commitment. He was convincing people of what she’d known all along. For Hannah’s Hope to work, the entire community had to step up, together, to invest in their own future. Today was the start of that. And together they would all make a difference.
“Hannah’s Hope,” he was saying, “is really about hope.” His gaze seemed to search her out, meeting hers despite the distance and the hundreds of people around. “The hope that we can have a future together. If only we’re willing to work for it.”
Her heart tightened in her chest and she found herself blinking against the sting of tears.
“There’s one person I met here in Vista del Mar that helped me learn that lesson in a very personal way. I’d like that person to join me up on stage for a minute.”
Her breath caught in her throat while she waited for him to say her name. But it wasn’t her name he called out.
“Ricky Cruz. Ricky, can you come on up?”
In a flash, Ricky dashed up the steps. He was dressed more nicely that she’d ever seen him, having abandoned his baggy faux gangster clothes for chinos and a dress shirt.
Ana cocked an eyebrow. Obviously, this had been staged.
“I’ve been mentoring Ricky here for the past couple of weeks. Not only has he made a commitment to me to stay in school, but he’s personally taught me a lot. He even helped me work out a few kinks in this song I’m about to play.” The crowd gave a laugh, clearly charmed by the way Ward was humoring Ricky. “So I can personally attest to the benefits of being a mentor.”
Ward continued talking, explaining that the song he was going to play could be downloaded from iTunes and that all the proceeds from the sale of the song would go to Hannah’s Hope. As Ward talked, Ricky pulled a stool forward from the corner of the stage. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, he pulled out a guitar and handed it to Ward.
Ward settled onto the stool, his left foot still on the ground, his right foot on the lowest rung of the stool. He slung the guitar strap over his shoulder, resting the guitar on his right knee.
She felt as though her heart had stopped beating.
It was the Alvarez.
She would have recognized its worn golden cedar anywhere.
She squeezed her eyes closed, emotion suddenly choking her.
A hush fell over the crowd. She wasn’t the only one who recognized the famous Alvarez, but she may have been the only one to fully understand how difficult this was for him. Then she noticed Chase giving Emma’s shoulder a squeeze, so maybe she wasn’t the only one.
He reached up and adjusted the microphone so it was right next to his mouth. He barely had to look up to speak into it. “How’s that sound?”