Fifteen Minutes: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

He could be drawing his last breath and he’d be more concerned with those around him.
    “I hate when she’s sick. She can’t get on a horse coughing like that.”
    Zack patted the man’s leathery hand. “She needs a different doctor, someone from Louisville.”
    “Yes.” The old man eyed him, sizing him up for a long moment. “You have some time?”
    “Yes, sir.” Zack had expected this. Dreaded it.
    His grandfather looked deep into his eyes, right through him. “The audition. Fifteen Minutes .”
    “Yes?”
    “You know how I feel about it.”
    “I do. Daddy told me.” Zack took a swig of coffee. His father’s words rang in his heart constantly this past week. I believe in you, son. No harm in trying out. But you know your grandfather. Dylan men don’t chase fame . . . they tend the farm and keep up tradition. They get a second job and buy the wood and fix the buildings. They find a way.
    Zack forced his dad’s words from his mind. He respected his father, but still he was going to Atlanta. He couldn’t be afraid of success. The idea was ridiculous. He sipped his drink more slowly.
    His grandfather gazed back at the front door, his eyes a steely reflection of some yesteryear. Gradually he found Zack again. “Why are you going?”
    “What if I’m supposed to go?” Zack felt his heartbeat quicken. He set down his coffee and leaned back in the chair. His words came measured, unrushed. “Maybe God could use me better on a stage somewhere.” He tried to smile. “I could pay off the farm. Daddy wouldn’t have to work so hard.” Zack paused, feeling the weight of the situation. His father had looked older lately, constantly worried. He thought of something else. “We could get better doctors for AJ. Duke could go to college like he wants to.”
    “A lot of good men get lost on a stage.”
    “Not me.” Zack folded his hands on the table and studied his grandfather’s eyes. “You know me, Grandpa. If I make it . . . I won’t get lost. Not ever. God loves me too much for that.” Nothing stood more certain in Zack’s mind. He watched the Arabians flying across the Kentucky grass. Why was his grandpa so worried? He would go with God’s blessing, sing for His glory, and one audition to the next he would walk only through the doors that the Lord Himself opened. If singing on Fifteen Minutes got in the way of him and God, he’d pray to be sent home.
    It was that simple.
    His grandpa watched him. “You’re a Dylan, and you’re a good boy.” The old man searched his eyes, processing. “But if they keep you, it’ll change things, Zack. Fame always does.” He hesitated, his tone kind. “God-fearing men . . . we live a quiet life.”
    Zack didn’t argue. He respected his grandfather’s opinion but nothing would change his mind. He had prayed for God’s will and he was going to Atlanta. Besides, was he supposed to go his whole life untested? What good was his faith if it couldn’t see him through whatever lay ahead?
    “What troubles me”—the old man drew a shaky breath, and for the first time a flicker of fear showed in the lines on his forehead—“is your motive, son. What do you hope to gain?” He waved his hand around. “Yes, you want to pay off the farm. Rescue your tired father. I admire that, Zack, I do.” He let the moment breathe. “When I was your age I worked two jobs. Three, even. You could do that, son. Why the show?”
    “I need an answer.” Zack didn’t blink, didn’t waver. He breathed deep, the certainty of a lifetime filling his heart. “God gave me my voice, Grandpa. I have to at least try.”
    “You sing at church.” Sincerity softened his eyes. “With the teens. They love you.”
    “Yes.” Zack stared out at the far reaches of the field, at the Arabians standing alert now in a tight herd. “It’s just . . .” He turned to the old man. “What if I could shine brighter for God on a bigger stage? In front of the whole world?” A growing passion filled