After three songs, the instruments fall silent, and I open my eyes to the friendly smile of the lead singer, James’s replacement.

“Good morning, church!” he says, holding his guitar pick in one hand and the mic stand in another. He’s wearing a pair of Dockers and a polo and looks exactly like a dad who used to play in a band. After everyone responds with a hearty “Good morning,” he smiles.

“I know you aren’t used to seeing me up here these days and are probably wondering why, if James is in the front row, he’s not leading you, but it’s temporary, rest assured.”

Laughter.

“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Brian Lundgren. I’m usually behind the soundboard on Sunday mornings, but James asked me to tune up my old guitar and take his place so he could bring his niece to church this morning. But I’m not going to spoil that story. I’ll let James share, and then he can lead us in prayer.” He looks to James for confirmation, and James looks to me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think to check with you. Do you mind?”

I shake my head, touched, and James squeezes my shoulder, hopping up the three steps to the stage.

James looks at home onstage next to Brian. He’s dressed in a casual plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of jeans. He’s not as flashy as Betty and me. His beard is neat, and I don’t see any visible tats (though he has one for Andrew on his upper arm that he showed me one night while watching TV). But he’s wearing a pair of cardinal-red Vans that I can dig. A touch of whimsy. Like my wings.

“Many of you know my story, but to summarize … when I was barely sixteen, I was in a terrible car accident. My big brother, Drew, was driving my girlfriend and me home from a concert, and he was intoxicated. Drew died instantly. Candace died on the way to the hospital. I walked away with a broken arm and a scarred soul.

“I battled depression and survivor’s guilt for years. Started drinking and getting into trouble. I missed my brother more than I could bear. Four years older than I was, he was my hero. I worshipped the ground he walked on. I’d just started dating Candace when I lost her. Our relationship was all butterflies and sweetness. Drew died because he chose to drink and get behind the wheel. Candace died because of me. Or,” he says grimly, “that’s how I felt.