Read Unlikely Praise for Free Online

and the friendly neighbors who lingered to visit in driveways with mail tucked under their arms. Everyone waved, though he didn’t know a soul.
    1223... 1225...
    He gently pressed the brake and prayed that just this once the truck would cooperate as he took a fleeting glance at the home where his nearly six-month-old daughter hung her booties.
    He held his breath. Front bay window, dented mailbox, neat front lawn. He exhaled and drove on because this wasn’t the day to stop and knock on the door.
    Instead, this was the day to allow more reality into the puzzle of recovery that had become his journey. This was the day to take another step and see how it felt. He imagined her eyes were bigger and bluer than the last picture his mother sent.
    It felt great.
     
    ****
     
    Candi found a table near the window of the coffee shop and waited for Shade. One by one, the caffeine addicts streamed in for their early morning fix. Being no different, she set her own cup on the table and leafed through the sweetener packets until she found her favorite.
    Shade appeared through a sea of groggy faces. “Good morning.”
    “Hey.” She pasted on her best seven-o’clock-in-the-morning smile and ripped the top off the fake sugar. “Thanks for coming.” She glanced out the window and over her shoulder. “Where’d you come from? I’ve been watching for you.”
    He nodded toward the front parking lot. “It’s crowded out there. Thought it’d be safer to park the Del Rio Destroyer at the strip center next door. I came in through the back.”
    She tapped the stirrer on the side of her cup. “Del Rio Destroyer?”
    “Yeah, it’s what I call that truck I drive. Long story, but it’s now an official danger to all living creatures. Let’s just pray I can get something new soon and leave it at that.”
    “Sure. You drink coffee?”
    He dropped a notebook on the table. “Oh, yeah. I’ll be right back.”
    “Take your time.”
    He headed for the counter amidst the others who toted laptops and plucked newspapers from the stand by the bar.
    Candi tried to organize her thoughts and her music, but instead spent much of the time analyzing Shade’s appearance. But why? It’s wasn’t as if the parade of students she saw every day at school didn’t push the envelope of fashion and logic.
    What was it about his ragged, paint-splattered work jeans and his plain, white v-neck tee that irritated her so? Nothing. It was that floppy ponytail and the pesky lizard tattoo that sent her over the edge. Mercifully, he wore a white collared button-down over the tee to cover his arms. She guessed it was how he “dressed up” the look to meet with potential clients. She reached in her bag for her pen. Were any of these thoughts necessary? No.
    He placed his cup on the table and paused. “You need anything else?”
    She looked up.
    There was that brilliant white smile, intense hazel eyes, and magnetic personality she’d read about on some Dead Lizard Highway fan blogs. Apparently, in concert, those things incited normal, well-behaved women to breech the security barrier and hurl themselves onto the stage while Shade played his way through a twenty-eight measure solo from one of the band’s biggest hits. If , that is, the blogs were true.
    Thank goodness she was impervious to his charm. “I’m fine, thanks.”
    He slid into the wooden, ladder-back chair. “What’s up?”
    She passed him a stack of music. “Pastor Charles wanted me to meet with you to discuss your role on the worship team.”
    “Sounds official. What exactly would that role be?”
    She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “He’s been a little vague, but I think he’s concerned about the rapid growth of the church and the need to expand the music program. He feels someone with your experience can be a leader in the group and add another dimension to our worship.”
    He leaned back and crossed his arms. “I’m no praise and worship leader. I told him that. I don’t