Fifteen Minutes

“Yes.” Zack felt dizzy with the first real possibility he’d felt since he left for Atlanta more than a year ago. “I’ll call you.” He took a step back toward his cart. “Tomorrow?”

She laughed. “Okay. Tomorrow.” Her smile faded. “Good seeing you, Zack.”

“You, too.” He watched her go and tried to remember to breathe. She was home and she was here and maybe tomorrow she would get coffee with him.

His heart soared ahead of him down the aisles of the store. The chance meeting here at Kroger was a start. The miracle he’d been praying for.

He could hardly wait to tell Grandpa Dan.

HIS TRUCK WAS filled with groceries, but Zack wasn’t ready to go home. He couldn’t stop thinking about Reese. The look in her eyes, the way he could see all the way to her heart. Just like before.

He needed to sort through his feelings before driving back to the farm. Instead of getting on the freeway, he stopped at The Coffee House, the place where he and Reese once shared a hundred private moments. He parked his truck and went inside.

The host was a teenage kid Zack hadn’t seen before. He smacked his gum a few times as he walked up to Zack. “Can I help you?” The kid clearly didn’t recognize him, something Zack appreciated more all the time.

“Table for one.” Zack followed the guy to a booth and sat down. He ordered coffee but when it came, Zack barely sipped it. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. There was no way running into her was pure coincidence. Not when he prayed for her and for the two of them every day.

Could it really be, God? Could we still have a chance?

No answer came, but a verse spoke quietly in his heart. The one from Jeremiah 29:11. God knew the plans He had for Zack and for Reese. Plans to give them a hope and a future. Whether together or apart.

But now . . . now Zack had to believe this was a beginning. Reese hadn’t made up her mind about moving permanently to London. There was still time to change her mind. Zack breathed in, happier than he’d been since before Fifteen Minutes. He could hardly wait for tomorrow.

The host was back at his table, bringing the check, but something had caught the kid’s attention. Zack followed his gaze and there on the nearby TV screen was a segment of entertainment news. An announcer was talking about Fifteen Minutes. “It’s that time of year.” He smiled into the camera. “Around the country hopeful singers are packing up and heading out to six major cities for the chance at being the next Fifteen Minutes winner.”

“That’s so cool.” The guy set the check on the table, his eyes glued to the screen. “Winning that show . . . that’d be a dream.”

“You sing?” Zack looked at him.

“Yeah.” He glanced at Zack and back at the screen. “I’m decent. I’ll probably audition next year. Gotta save up some money first.”

“Hmmm. Well, good luck.” Zack watched the guy go. He could only hope he wouldn’t see the kid on the show next year or any time after.

The segment was still playing. The announcer was talking about Zoey Davis. “Last year’s winner continues to grab headlines.” Images flashed across the screen, Zoey on Ellen and The Tonight Show, articles declaring that she was breaking record sales. “Of course,” the announcer said, his voice concerned, “not all news about Zoey Davis has been good.” They cut to a short video feature showing a different series of headlines about Zoey Davis. She was too thin or addicted to drugs or cutting herself. A few months ago she’d spent a week in rehab.

Zack felt his heart sink. He had only heard a quick thank-you back from her after his private Facebook message a year ago. Since then they hadn’t talked, though Zack followed her on Twitter. Last week Zoey had tweeted that she’d completed rehab for her “struggles with exhaustion.” Another of Zoey’s tweets appeared on the TV screen now. Thanks for your prayers, everyone. I’ve learned how to pray. It helps. I may have finally figured out how to live.

The tweet made Zack smile. Maybe she’d had the talk with Jesus he had told her about. It was what he had prayed for. But the struggles and pressures of fame would remain, whether Zoey prayed or not. Like Chandra had told him, the prison of celebrity was unbending no matter who was trapped within its walls.

On TV they were showing contestants lined up in New Orleans, home of the first round of auditions. An on- site reporter spoke loudly against the backdrop of excited contestants. “I’m here in New Orleans where tens of thousands of hopefuls have gathered for the first round of Fifteen Minutes auditions.” He motioned for two teenage girls to join him. “What brought you here today?”

In unison the girls squealed. “We want to be the next winner of Fifteen Minutes!”

“There you have it.” He looked into the camera. “And so season eleven begins. Back to you in the studio.”

Zack had seen enough. He paid for his coffee, and as he headed out the door, the announcer on the TV kept talking. “In other news, one of America’s favorite teen actresses is back in jail after being arrested again for drunk driving. Prosecutors say this is her final strike in her ongoing battle with . . .”

Zack walked out and the door closed behind him.

He didn’t want to think about Fifteen Minutes or the upcoming season or the trouble with another teen actress. He’d lost enough time on such emptiness. Lost more than he ever could’ve dreamed the day he drove off to Atlanta. Chandra had been right about the cost.

But he couldn’t think about that now.

Instead, he walked across the parking lot, breathing in the sweet Kentucky summer air. He had groceries to put away and news to share with his family and a song to finish. Then tomorrow . . . maybe a coffee date with Reese Weatherly. And if God allowed a miracle to play out, sometime in the weeks ahead he might have something else.

A horseback ride at dawn with the girl he still loved.