The attorney looked down at his notes. "Truth is, I'm not sure we could prove unequivocally it's the same song. Do you have any proof that she took it off your computer, Parker?"
Serene and Butch turned their troubled eyes to her. "Yes. My brother found the songs on her computer."
"But can you prove how she got them? Will a jury be convinced?"
"He's still going through the security tape, trying to see when she did it."
"Let me know if he finds anything. Meanwhile, I can write a letter to Tiffany Teniere and Nathan Evans and let them know that we're aware of what's occurred. I can at least threaten a lawsuit and give them a cease-and-desist order to make them pull the song off the radio and out of stores until this is settled."
Serene couldn't stay in her seat. She got up again and walked across the room. "I want to do some interviews and publicly tell everyone what happened. The fans need to know that Tiffany's a liar and a thief."
"I'd be careful with that," David said. "If you can't prove the song's stolen, you can't prove any of that. She could slap you with a defamation of character suit."
"You've got to be kidding!" Serene cried. "I'm not going to just roll over. That woman stole my song!"
"She stole Parker's song. As far as I'm concerned, you could still put your song out and people wouldn't even recognize it."
"Yes, they would. The melody is almost identical. They would think I was the one copycatting. I can't do that. What's Jeff Standard going to think?"
Parker thought of Tiffany, so sedated at the funeral over the death of her daughter. She tried to imagine having a public war with her, Serene calling a press conference and raking her over the coals. Public sympathy would naturally align with the grieving mother. The Evans family had them over a barrel.
The attorney turned off his CD player. "Parker, if you want to go forward with a lawsuit, I'll be glad to file it. If we win, it's possible that the best we can do is to get them to pay you royalties on the song, and maybe a small amount in punitive damages."
Parker closed her eyes. She didn't have the money for this, and she hated the idea of two Christians airing their dirty laundry publicly. She sighed. "Let me think about it and talk to my family. I don't know what I should do."
"Parker, it's a no-brainer," Butch said. "You have to sue. And meanwhile, we've got to come up with another song to replace 'Double Minds.'"
Parker felt as if someone was screwing an ice pick through her eyebrow. "Serene, I'll give you another song. One from my own album."
Serene was quiet. "Which one?"
"'Ambient.' I'll give you 'Ambient.'"
"'Ambient'?" Butch asked. "I haven't even heard that song. How do I know if it's good?"
"It's good," Serene said. "I'll take it."
The words stabbed. Parker had planned to use 'Ambient' as the title track of her own album, the song she knew people would be humming and singing as they walked out of the concerts, the one that would send them to the CD tables to buy Parker's album. But what choice did she have?
"Okay, it's yours." She struggled not to cry. "My band and I have already laid down some tracks." Her voice was barely audible. "You can use those if you want. That'll save you some time, if you think they're good enough."
"Okay, it's a deal." Serene looked at Butch. "We don't have time to wallow in this. We need to get back into the studio today."
"Guess so," he said.
All that studio time wasted.
Butch and Serene left her there to iron things out with the attorney and to run up a bill she couldn't afford. By the time she got back to Colgate, her spirits felt like rocks in the pit of her stomach, ready to take her down.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
Parker's mother's house smelled like roast beef and peach cobbler--comfort food designed to make Parker feel better. But Parker wasn't hungry. She sat on the back porch, swinging on the wicker swing and wondering what she was going to do. How could such grand opportunities shatter into so many pieces? She looked up at the sky. A cloud sailed by on the wind. She could smell rain.
What are you doing, Lord?
She tried to live in obedience, tried to do the things that were pleasing to God. While others were cheating and selling out, she was holding her ground. Why, then, was she the target for theft and murder?
Her mother stuck her head out the back door. "Time to eat, honey. Everybody's here."
Parker had no more appetite for company than she did for food, but her mother had gone to a lot of trouble. She went into the house and saw her dad already at the table, plucking a green bean out of a bowl and popping it into his mouth. "Hey, darlin'."
"Hey, Dad." She gave him a hug. His breath had the faint tinge of alcohol, but he was clean and seemed sober. She hadn't really wanted him here. He tended to be a distraction, and she desperately needed to focus now. But when her mother called a family meeting, she included the whole family.
Her brothers were already seated. She knew they didn't have much time, but she was grateful they had come.
After her mother led them in prayer, they began to eat. Parker only picked at her food. It wouldn't sit well next to the anxiety churning in her stomach.
"So," Lynn said. "Everyone enjoy. But what we're really here for is to decide whether Parker should get an attorney and sue."
Pete slathered some butter on his bread. "Of course she should." He looked across the table to Parker. "Sweetheart, you don't have any choice. This Tiffany woman needs to be blackballed from the whole industry. People need to know what she's done."
Parker sighed. "It's not just her, Dad. It's her husband and his company."
Gibson looked as dejected as she did. "There's a lot going on here," he said. "A lot of pieces that add up to murder, and I don't yet know how they all fit. But I think Parker's in over her head. I'm not sure it's a good idea to start agitating things now."
"Agitating things?" LesPaul asked. "Parker shouldn't have to roll over every time somebody tries to take something from her. And frankly, Parks, I'm really disappointed that you gave 'Ambient' to Serene. It's the best song you've written, and to just hand it over to her, complete with all the tracks that we laid ... well, that's just wrong. Is she even going to pay us back for the time we invested?" Parker poked at her meat. "She'll pay our standard rate, plus you'll get credit on a major album. And she'll give us some of her studio hours so we can record."
"Yeah, if she gets finished before her studio time runs out," Les-Paul said. "And I don't think she will. I'm sending her a bill for the engineering. I don't work free, except for you."
"We're not here to talk about 'Ambient,'" Parker's mom said. "We're here to discuss what Parker needs to do about 'Double Minds,' or 'Altar Ego,' or whatever they're calling it."
Pete stopped eating and pointed his fork at Parker. "I say you hire that lawyer to file suit and take care of this before any more time passes."
That was easy for her father to say. He didn't have to deal with these people in the music industry any more. All of his bridges had been burned years ago. "I'm just not sure it's the right thing to do," Parker said.
LesPaul looked personally offended. "Why in the world wouldn't it be?"
"I'll tell you why," Gibson said. "She could spend a lot of money and still lose."
"You have proof that Brenna stole the songs," LesPaul said. "What else does she need? A stupid letter isn't going to stop those people."
Parker set her fork down. "They just lost their daughter."
"I understand your compassion," Pete said, "but the fact is, they do junk like this. You make enough people mad, and people come gunning for you and yours."
The room grew quiet, and Parker stared down at her plate.
Lynn was the first to speak again. "Pete, you don't think someone killed their child because they stole Parker's song."
"Not that, specifically," Pete said. "But come on. If this is how Evans does business, he's bound to have a lot of enemies."
Parker met Gibson's eyes, and she knew he was remembering what she'd overheard in the Evans house, the day of the funeral.
Lynn pushed her plate away, leaned her elbows on the table, and folded her arms. "Tell us what's going on in your head, honey."
Parker swallowed her tears and said, "I'm just thinking how it would look to people who aren't ... Christians. There's this reporter who's been snooping around. He caught me in the coffee shop and asked me a bunch of questions about the murder. And then he started asking about Serene having an eating disorder. Stuff like that. Turns out, he's a New York Times reporter, and he's sniffing out stories about hypocritical Christian celebrities."
"There are plenty of those," Pete said.
"I know, Dad, but there are a lot who aren't, too. I just hate to drag all this through the court and give him more dirt for his articles."
LesPaul pushed his plate away. "Parker, you can't worry about that. This is business, and if people can't understand that--"
"But it's not just business!" Parker cut in. "We're representatives of Christ."
"Tiffany Teniere is no representative of Christ," LesPaul said. "How can she claim to be a Christian if she steals something outright and puts it out there with her name as the songwriter?"
"Whatever she really believes, wherever her heart really is--to the world, she's a Christian. And they'd love seeing us tearing at each other's throats."
Her mom touched Parker's hand. "It's true, the Bible does tell us not to sue each other. We're told to settle it out of court, among ourselves."
"That's absurd," Pete bit out.
Parker knew her father could never understand. "I don't want to drag another Christian performer through the mud in front of the secular media. I can just see it on CNN. 'Christian artist Tiffany Teniere accused of being a liar and a thief while she grieves over her murdered child.' It's lose-lose." She picked up her napkin and wiped her mouth.
"But Serene's label might sue you," Gibson said. "You don't have a choice, Parker."
Tears rimmed her eyes, and she blotted the corners. "I'm just thinking, maybe I should just go to Tiffany myself and talk to her as one Christian to another."
Pete pointed his finger in her face. "Parker, don't you pull a bleeding heart on us. You're scaring me to death here."
"I'm not saying let her get away with it, Dad. I'm just saying that maybe I should lay all the cards on the table and give her the opportunity to make it right."
LesPaul was about to come out of his skin. "What are you going to say? Don't do it again, or else? Or else what?"
Parker didn't have an answer. Pressing the inside corners of her eyes to hold back tears, she whispered, "I haven't had enough time to pray about this."
Gibson looked at their mother. "Mom, what do you think?"
Lynn stroked Parker's hair, patted her back. "I think Parker's right. She doesn't need to decide anything until she's prayed enough to have peace about it. It says in James that if anyone lacks wisdom, he should ask of God, and he'll give it liberally if you have faith."
"Okay," LesPaul said. "So she's going to pray. Meanwhile, what do you think?"
Lynn got up to get the iced tea from the sideboard. "I think there's one more option you should pray about, Parker. You should pray about hiring a Chris Christian mediator."
Parker looked up. "A what?"
"A mediator." She went around the table filling everyone's glasses. "I've seen it done a lot. You go to Tiffany and tell her your beef, then you ask her if she's willing to take her case before a Christian mediator and accept the verdict. It's just like a lawsuit, only it stays in the Chris Christian family. But both sides have to agree to accept the outcome."
Parker considered. Maybe that was an option. "How would I find something like that?"
Lynn sat back down. "I'll talk to a few friends and find out."
A tiny spark of hope caught inside her. Still ...
"Even if I get credited as the songwriter and start getting royalties on it, it won't undo the mess this has made. I still don't know if Jeff Standard will keep me on the tour. He'll see this whole thing as suspicious and unprofessional, and blame me for leaving my computer out where Brenna could get the songs. He might even think I was in on this."
"Serene will tell him that wasn't your fault," Lynn said.
"But maybe it was. Maybe I was just negligent, and I deserve--"
"Stop it," Lynn said. "That's not true and you know it. The enemy is telling you lies. He'll paralyze you into missing this opportunity. You can't let him do it. I didn't raise you to be a defeatist."
Parker covered her face and battled with her tears.
Her mom set the pitcher down hard. "LesPaul, you snoop around and find out who's booked studio time they won't be using. Gibson, keep looking for evidence that can't be denied."
LesPaul smiled. "And Mom, what are you going to do?"
She straightened as if she had the most important job of all. "I am going to clean the table."
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Parker sat in the music room in her mother's house, playing the piano, trying to decide what her new title song would be, and which one would replace the one she'd given Serene. She almost ignored the phone when it rang, but curiosity forced her to pull it out of her purse.
Daniel Walker's name flashed up. Her heart caught, and she slid her thumb across the screen, answering it.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Parker. I wanted to check on you after I heard about the song. We had a rehearsal of 'Ambient' tonight. I couldn't believe you gave that to Serene."
"What else could I do? It's my fault the song was stolen."
"No, it wasn't. Look, I work for Serene, but she shouldn't have taken your title song. There are others that would have worked for her."
"I knew she liked that one."
"Well, if you don't mind my saying so, you're an artist just like she is. You're the one taking the greatest loss in this deal, and you can't afford it. Besides, you've written other songs Serene has already licensed but not recorded. She could have chosen one of those."
"Too late now."
"I know." He paused for a moment. "It's just like you, Parker, to put Serene before yourself."
His glowing words reminded Parker of what he'd said that day at the youth concert, when he thought she'd left before the applause, so God would get the glory. She started to come clean, but he spoke first.
"If you're trying to decide what your title track should be," he said, "I have a few ideas."
"Yeah? I'd love to hear them."
"Well, that night when we recorded, I was really drawn to 'Inscribed.'I thought it was brilliant."
She smiled. "Really? You think it's good enough to name the album after?"
"It's every bit as good as 'Ambient.' I'm guessing Serene hasn't heard it yet."
"She hasn't."
"Then don't let her. She'll snatch it up, too."
The thought had occurred to Parker.
"Listen, Parker, I'm really sorry all this has happened to you. But remember Isaiah 43:2: 'When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. The flames will not set you ablaze.'"
The verse dripped through her like warm honey, sweet to the taste, invigorating. "Thank you, Daniel."
"Sure. Call me if you want to talk. Anytime. I keep late hours. Whenever you're ready to record, I'm there. And Parker?"
"Yes?"
"I'll be praying for you."
She hung up and sat a moment, basking in the afterglow of Daniel'sconcern. No one else could have called her and made her feel better tonight. He'd done so much for her in that one short call.
Now she felt up to her tasks. She would pray about the songs, and if Daniel was right, if God wanted 'Inscribed' to be her new title song, he would give her a peace about it.
After praying, she went through each of her songs tha
t she'd decided not to include on her album. She had hoped to sell them later, especially now that Serene's songs were hitting the Billboard charts. Her contract with Serene gave her first option to buy Parker's songs. But any that Serene turned away could be sold to others, if Parker didn't use them herself.
But these songs just weren't good enough for her album. She played a riff on the keyboard, hesitated, then tried again.
She heard a sound, then stopped, listening.
Her mother had gone to bed long ago, and LesPaul hadn't come in yet. Was that sound the wind against the house or someone prowling around? She was sick of being afraid, sick of trying to puzzle together the pieces of this murder that had come, unwel-comed, into her life. But wasn't that how it always went? Tragedies came uninvited, and the evidence left behind was often sketchy and incomplete. God wasn't one for explaining himself.
Maybe that was it. Maybe she could write about puzzle pieces, scattered and lost. She started to play again, humming along with the lilt of the lyrics coming to her mind. "Pieces ... nothing more than pieces." Then she realized she was playing the tune for that old seventies song "Feelings."
How many songs had she written to that tune before she realized what she was doing? She banged her hand on the keyboard and dropped her forehead against the music rack.
Think. Write. Don't just sit here.
She had to get out of this room, away from the instruments and the pressure. She walked through the living room and into the dining room where her mother's Bible sat. She looked up the passage Daniel had quoted to her. Her mother had highlighted much of the chapter.
Though God was speaking of Israel in these verses, the chapter contained much about God's nature and his great love and care of those who were his. She dwelt on it, savoring it, then read the next chapter and the next. Though the prophecies were glum for Israel, she clung to what she learned about God's sovereign power. Underlying it all was the grace that was so redemptive, bringing sunshine through the ashes, promising his people that he would not forsake them forever. Then she came to Isaiah 49, from which "Inscribed" had come.