Just call me Jake
A Novel
by
Tracy Arbors
Copyright 2010, Cary, NC, USA
The new church music director touches everyone’s hearts -- some more than she intended.
Smashwords Edition
*****
Published by:
Tracy Arbors on Smashwords
Just Call Me Jake
Copyright @2010 by Tracy Arbors
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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Acknowledgements:
I’d like to thank my family and everyone who gave me good feedback on this manuscript.
This is a review copy -- I hope you enjoy reading it – please let me know what you think either by sending me an email at tracyarbors at gmail.com or posting a review.
“…and I will praise you with a new song, my soul will bless you, Lord”
Chapter 1
Jake sighed. He had hoped to finish his hospital visits early, but when he had tried to leave, Mrs. Smith had seemed so dismayed that his plan to review the budget was forgotten; he had stayed to talk a little longer. By the time he looked at his watch, another hour had passed. It was intriguing how some of his more wrinkled parishioners had such clear memories of their youth – and flashes of insight about life.
Though he knew the sharp recollections were a phenomenon of advanced age and seemed to be balanced by loss of short term memory, it still caught him off guard when Mrs. Smith had motioned him close and whispered: “Be careful leaving, there are commies out there. They might get you. They caught me – and changed my hair to gray.”
He wanted to laugh but didn’t know if she was serious or kidding. So like he usually did when in doubt, he smiled and thanked her. He knew she loved to give advice, and though this statement was odd, some of her advice hit home, like what she had said when he first arrived at the hospital. She had opened up her arms for a hug, then looked him over from head to toe. Mrs. Smith smiled, then shaken her gnarled finger at him, saying in her gravelly voice:
“Pastor Jake, I am so happy to see you, but I worry about you. You look like man who needs a wife. Look at those bags under your eyes -- slow down and be happy while you’re still young enough.” Then she wrinkled her little nose and added: “…And get a new suit.”
She was such a nice old lady, so he didn’t take offense. In fact, he admitted that she had a point there. He was nearing the end of his twenty-ninth year, had found a thin patch in what used to be his mop of curly brown hair and couldn’t even remember how old his suit was. He didn’t think clothes were important but as she had admonished, you had to be presentable.
He recalled seeing an ad in the paper for a big sale on men’s suits at a store in the mall. Jake wasn’t fond of shopping, but it was cold and wet, which made the prospect of walking inside the mall seem more pleasant.
Even thought it was just drizzling now, the earlier downpour had left puddles of water along the road. They had built some new stores and apartments in this area and apparently, drainage wasn’t a major consideration when they put in new developments. Perhaps that might change with the emphasis on “green building” he had been reading about in the newspaper.
He accelerated and dove into the right lane, going around a van signaling for a left turn. Jake’s car hit a deep puddle, making a huge splash that splattered a young woman walking on the sidewalk.
In the rear view mirror, he caught a glimpse of her raised fist. It took him two blocks before his deed fully penetrated his consciousness. He flicked on his right blinker and turned into the next side street. He thought he could go around the block, but the curving streets made him go further than he intended. After a series of turns, found his way back to the main road searched the sidewalk for the spot where he last saw her walking. He rolled along slowly, and finally saw a girl with a guitar case. No longer defiant or angry, she was plodding along, her shoulders hunched.
Jake pulled up beside her and rolled down the window. She walked faster and headed to the far edge of the sidewalk. He let the car roll to keep up with her.
“Pardon, me miss, I came back to say I’m terribly sorry.”
She stared at him, warily. He hoped he hadn’t scared her.
“I’m sorry,” repeated Jake “for splashing you back there. Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked hopefully. He always felt his approval rating from the Lord was much higher if he could set things straight with his fellow creatures.
The young woman stopped and faced the car, indignant. “You’re sorry!” She yelled. “Now, my feet are soaking, my dress has spots,” she continued louder and faster, “I’ve got over a mile more to walk, this guitar is getting heavier with the extra moisture, and now dirt, my boy friend smashed up my car, I’m too broke for a cab and . . .” she paused to take a breath.
“Have a lot on your shoulders?” Jake asked quietly.
She stopped and surveyed him as if he were an alien.
“Would it help if I offered you a lift?” When she hesitated, it occurred to him that she should be suspicious about getting into a car with a stranger, but before he could explain who he was, she opened the Jetta’s back door, put in her guitar and hopped in the seat next to him.
A mixture of spicy perfume and dampness seemed to fill the car. “Where are you headed?”
“Well, if you ask my parents, straight to hell. And lately, I’m starting to believe them.” She smoothed her long brown skirt. “But, in real terms, I am headed to St. Mary’s Church on Lincoln Street. I’m playing for a wedding in about an hour.”
Jake noted the bluish tinge on her lips and fingers. “You look cold.”
“What makes you think that?” She said as she shivered.
“I look for clues.”
“Like my teeth chattering?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to mention that, but I’d feel better if you warmed up -- I’ve sat in the church you’re going to and it’s drafty. Would you like to stop for a cup a coffee or maybe some tea?”
She hesitated for a moment, and then brightened. “How about some soup? There’s an Amanda’s Donuts on Hillsboro Street -- it’s not far from here and they have great soup.”
“Soup it is.”
Jake followed her directions and a moments later, followed her into the donut shop. The smell of fresh coffee and baked goods was tantalizing. Walking in back of her, he noticed how tall the girl was -- about five ten, same as his own height. Wet spots on her maroon raincoat showed where the car had splashed her. He must hit a deep puddle.
While she headed to the restroom, Jake selected two stools at the counter and longingly eyed the chocolate covered long johns - he knew he should just have coffee, as he had put on several unneeded pounds lately, but the pastries were tempting, especially the ones with angel cream filling.
The girl soon returned, sliding onto the stool next to him and ordering a bowl of soup, water and a donut. He ordered coffee and after a short internal debate, his longed-for cream-filled long john. It broke his diet, but he didn’t want her to feel awkward eating alone.
“Thanks for stopping. The soup here is great – like the donuts,” she began.
“I’ll have to try it next time.” He nodded. The waitress served coffee and donut, then returned with the steaming bowl of soup. It was home-style chicken noodle and he watched the girl wrap her cold hands around the bowl, close her eyes and inhale the steam. Looking at her made him glad they’d stopped here.
She caught him observing. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until we walked in here.”
“You look like you’ll enjoy that.” He honestly hoped she would. There was something very appealing about her.
She lifted up a spoonful over the bowl to have it cool. After swallowing it, she watched him take a bite of donut. “You’re kind of the opposite of most people.”
“How’s that?” He replied, wondering if she meant about not sticking to his diet. He hoped she was enjoying her soup as much as he was the donut.
“About noticing things, like my being cold. It was very nice of you. I was wet and cold, but my having a bad day is really not your doing. My life is going downhill and today I hit a new low.” She had a forced flippant tone to her voice, but he couldn’t see her eyes as she arranged her coat on the back of the chair. Underneath she had on a flowing blouse with an abstract pattern of browns, black and white, topped off by a black velveteen vest. Her outfit reminded him of a gypsy.
The waitress topped off his coffee. “Could I have some coffee, too, please?” she asked the waitress, before turning back to Jake. “I didn’t catch your name earlier.”
“Jake Hardy” he stretched out his hand automatically.
She hesitated for a moment. “Myra -- that’s my nickname. Actually my real name is Marian, Marian Panket” she said and shook his hand. “You must be a salesman.”
He laughed. “Sometimes I feel like it.”
“What do you do? Are you a professor?”
“No, I’m in a type of life assurance. What do you do when you’re not singing at weddings? Are you a college student?”
“I used to be, but I dropped out to sing in a band. I thought we were going to be stars and record a CD and stuff.” She held up another spoonful of soup. “But none of that has materialized. I sing, play keyboard when the keyboard player isn’t there and I write music -- or try to.” She ate the spoonful and dipped for more. “At least, I did until today. Tomorrow, I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders.
He noticed a tone of defiant desperation behind her words.
“What happened?”
She picked up her donut and inspected it as she took a bite. “I’m not used to spilling out my life to strange men in donut shops, but you seem nice … if you really want to know, I’ll tell you the whole thing.”
“I’d like to listen.” He said, leaning back on his stool. “The Lord works in mysterious ways and there must have been a reason for that huge puddle I went through.”
“Oh, man, don’t tell me you’re religious! Good thing you didn’t hear what I was calling you after the puddle hit me.”
Jake chucked. “I’m sure I wouldn’t have liked it, but it probably was deserved.”
She laughed for the first time. She had a great smile, now that the blue was gone and a more normal pink had returned to her lips. Jake smiled back, admiring her shoulder length hair. It was still damp but probably was golden blonde when dry. She also had beautiful eyes -- almond shaped and framed by long lashes. And her eyes were the deepest blue he’d ever seen. It was the same color as a vase his mother had loved – she called it cobalt blue.
She tilted her head. “This is going to be a long story. Are you really paying for this?” He nodded. “Okay if I order another donut?”
Jake smiled, happy to buy a donut for someone who relished it so much.
Chapter 2
“I was doing fine before I met Magnus.” She sighed. “I think I could blame it all on Maggie, my best friend. We were out celebrating the end of midterms at a local bar. The lights in the little corner stage went on, and I had to catch my breath. The guitar player was tall, blonde and so handsome, with a voice that matched his appearance. I couldn’t stop looking at him -- he reminded me of one of those Norse gods from humanities -- Thor, I think.”
“I remember Maggie elbowing me and saying I was drooling.” She laughed, then continued. “At break time, Maggie left and came back with Magnus. He sat down with us and it was love at first sight. He had a great sense of humor as well as his other talents. One thing led to another, and soon I was going out with him and playing in his band.”
The waitress refilled her coffee and Marian smiled her thanks and took a sip. “I was so enthused by the band I decided not to return to school for fall semester.”
“You dropped out of school?” Asked Jake, his brows furrowed. He thought it was so sad when someone gave up on their education.
“I realize now it was a mistake.” She answered, taking a small bite of the doughnut. “But I was thinking college wasn’t as important as being in love and working on your big break.” She took a bite of donut as this sank in.
“What I learned was that troubles trigger others like dominos. I hadn’t anticipated my parents’ reaction – they were angry and stopped helping me pay my rent and car insurance. My part time job as a cashier at the student union evaporated as well -- all available campus jobs were reserved for students.
“One thing about Magnus, he never worries. He prides himself on positive thinking and thought it was a great opportunity to have me move in so we could write more songs together. It helped a bit, but the band never seemed to clear enough money – when they played a gig, everyone seemed to get paid before I did. Even though I wrote some of their music, played keyboard and sang, Magnus claimed they had to pay specialists, like the drummer, first. ‘You’re portion is sort of rolled into mine,’ he’d say. And it worked fine when I didn’t have bills to pay.
She shook her head. “Then last week, I couldn’t pay my car insurance payment. He said he’d have the money on Friday, but it never materialized. Then this morning was the last straw. He took my car last night to get a pizza, stopped over at some friends, got drunk and had an accident, leaving the car to get towed, and me without transportation to get to the wedding I’m supposed to play for.” She took another sip of coffee and exhaled. “So that’s the long explanation of why I was walking down the sidewalk when you came by.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Jake asked, moved by her story.
“I don’t know. Guess I’ll find somewhere to hang out for awhile.”
Chapter 3
Jake was convinced this girl needed another chance to get her life going in a better direction, so after he dropped her off at St. Stephen’s Catholic Church near the State University campus, he rushed back to his office and made several calls.
He was smiling as he arrived back at the church in time to hear the last song. He slid into one of the back pews, transfixed by the quality of her voice. He said a quick prayer for guidance that his idea was helpful and he would be doing the right thing.
As the last of the guests filed out, Jake was waiting for her with Father Tom at the back of the church.
“So, Myra, you’ve met my friend, Reverend Jacob Hardy,” commented Father Tom.
“Reverend?” Marian’s eyes were wide. “You didn’t say you were a ... how do you sell life insurance and be a minister, too?”
“Actually,” Jake explained sheepishly, “I said life assurance --it’s what I say when I don’t want people to clam up on me. We were having such a nice conversation and you seemed stressed enough without springing clergy on you.”
“By the second donut, you could have told me you were an angel, and I wouldn’t have blinked.” She picked up her guitar. “Which you were – an angel, that is. I really appreciated the food and the ride, Father Jacob. It was very nice talking with you.” She extended her hand to each of them.
“Thanks again for the referral, Father Tom. Let me know if you have any other weddings coming up that would like a musician.” She had a business-like handshake.
As she turned to leave, Jake spoke up. “Wait, Marian. I was thinking about your dilemma and, well, I found a place you could stay for awhile. It would also make one of my older church members very happy.”
“Thanks, but...” she hesitated, “I don’t have a car and don’t have money to pay her rent.”
“That’s the other part. Father Tom here has been extolling your musical talents. He said you wrote that beautiful last song.”
“Thanks.” She blushed. “It was short, but the bride liked it so I sang it twice.” The way she said this made Jake wonder if she wasn’t used to compliments.
“Anyway,” he continued, “my church needs a temporary music director. It’s part time so it doesn’t pay much, but you could try it for awhile, and it would be helping us. And since we are so close to campus, if it works out, you could go back to school and finish.” He hoped he wasn’t talking too fast.
“Wow, you’ve thought about all the angles.” She looked suspiciously at him, then at Father Tom. “Father Tom, I’ve known you for a while. Is this guy for real, or what?”
Father Tom chuckled. “I’d ask the same question if I were you. But I can vouch for him -- he’s for real. He actually has a pretty good reputation around here. Don’t think he’s led anyone down the wrong path.” He thought for a moment. “Even though he’s trying to steal one of my flock.”
“Not stealing, just borrowing.”
“Not even that. I haven’t seen much of her lately.” Father Tom pointed his finger gently at Marian. “This way, you’ll be in church every Sunday.”
“Why do I feel like this is a conspiracy?” Marian asked as Father Tom picked up her guitar case and gave it to Jake.
“Just don’t call him Father,” relayed Tom, “he’s not a priest – a better term is Reverend or Pastor.”
She tapped her head with her hand. “Oh! Just habit, sorry, REVEREND Jacob.”
“That’s okay, I’d rather you just call me Jake.”
Chapter 4
Marian wondered how her life had taken such a sudden turn. She felt like she was being blown in a new direction by forces beyond her control, like in a dream, only she knew she was awake. She felt a twinge of regret when they pulled into the driveway of an old gray house with peeling paint.
“It looks better on the inside.” Jake’s voice was reassuring. “Mrs. Hubbard said she wanted to meet you first before you move in.” He thought for a moment. “She’s quite a character. I think you’ll like her -- most people do.”
Marian pushed her hair behind her ears. She hoped Mrs. Hubbard liked her.
Jake rang the bell. Marian noticed how curly his hair was – if it were longer, he could probably grow an Afro, a mocha brown one. In her experience, curly haired people were usually genuine. The thought made her feel more comfortable.
After a few moments, an old woman slowly opened the door. “It takes me longer and longer to get the door these days.”
Marian smiled and offered her hand. “How do you do, Mrs. Hubbard?”
“Just fine, honey.” She shook Marian’s hand. “Come on in and let me take a look at you, young lady. I was telling the Pastor how I need more company. And it’s true.” Her bright eyes contrasted with her wrinkled powdery face. Her skin was so fair, it reminded Marian of the translucent bone china cups her mother had treasured.
The inside of the house was warm and smelled like baked apples and cinnamon. Mrs. Hubbard bustled about, insisting they sit down and enjoy some coffee and freshly baked apple cake, which Marian identified as the source of the aroma.
The table, and most of the furniture in the room, was made of cherry wood, polished to a mirror-like sheen. They ate from china plates that were carefully placed on starched white linen placemats. Though the exterior seemed shabby, Mrs. Hubbard had the inside of her house in perfect order for any company that might stop by.
“Baking used to be a necessity back when I was growing up.” Mrs. Hubbard responded to the compliments on the cake. “But nowadays, I guess you’d call it my hobby.”
“Do you bake often?” Marian asked to make conversation.
“Only when there’s someone to bake for -- like when friends, family or the preacher comes to visit.”
“With cake this good, I’ll bet he makes up excuses to come over.” Marian winked conspiratorially. “By the way he savored his donut this morning, I could tell he was a fan of baked goods.”
Jake pretended to be shocked, and Mrs. Hubbard chuckled. “He doesn’t come over nearly enough. But now you’re here, I’ll wager he comes over for dinner a bit more often.” She smiled as if she had made a joke.
Marian wasn’t sure what she meant. She was hoping Mrs. Hubbard was not expecting her to be a good cook when she spied two spots of pink on Jake’s face. Poor guy, he blushes so easily, she thought, guess he’s sensitive about being teased about his eating habits.
To change the subject, Marian asked about Mrs. Hubbard’s family, which turned out to be a great topic. She learned that Mr. Hubbard had died in his early forties, and Mrs. Hubbard had been a parole officer and raised two sons. She was extremely proud of her boys --both married with families, but unfortunately, neither lived nearby. “They call me, so I know what they’re up to, but I’d rather have them stop by to see me more often. Next time I’ll see Nathan and my two grandchildren will be Thanksgiving, and I’m sure looking forward to it.” Mrs. Hubbard related this while she cut three more pieces of apple cake and doled them out. “I just don’t enjoy cooking or eating cooking when it’s just me, so I really appreciate company.”
By the time they finished their second piece of cake they had negotiated a small rent -- which Mrs. Hubbard had declined, then was persuaded to accept -- and outlined use of the appliances and meals, so Marian felt more comfortable with the arrangement. After a tour of the upstairs, where Marian’s room and bathroom would be, Mrs. Hubbard had one more comment:
“Marian, you seem like a nice young lady. I would love to have you stay here, but there is one thing I need to be frank about. I hear you have some man trouble, and I don’t want you to bring that man into my house. Understood?”
Marian couldn’t fathom even speaking to Magnus, much less inviting him over. “I understand what you’re saying. I agree.”
“Then welcome. Go get your things!”
Marian jumped into Jake’s car. As he began to back out of the driveway, she snapped her fingers. “I’m pretty sure Magnus will be over at his friend Greg’s right now, so if we hurry, we won’t run into him.” She thought for a moment. “Shoot – what should I do about my car?”
Jake stopped the car and looked at her. “You said it was towed?”
“Probably -- I think Magnus left it illegally parked near Moore’s Square.”
“We can drive by, after we get your things, to see. If it’s towed, we can call the city tomorrow – I think they hold cars for awhile until someone claims them.”
“Thank you – I’d really appreciate that.” She sighed. Her car was old, but it was all she had.
Jake drove quietly for several minutes. “What did you think of Mrs. Hubbard?”
“A combination of tough old bird and sweet gentle lady.”
“You didn’t mind what she said about your “man” problems?”
“I was surprised you told her, but then I supposed she would want to know why I suddenly needed a place to live. Actually, I can see why she said it; after all, she doesn’t know me. Actually, you don’t really know me either. But, if I do run into Magnus --which I hope I won’t – I’m not planning to tell him where I’m going. I guess it’s come full circle -- I never could tell my parents when I moved in with him, and I don’t want to tell him where I’m going when I’m moving out. Isn’t life strange?”
“It is when you have to live a lie, I guess.”
She was silent for a moment. “There is one problem living with Mrs. Hubbard, though.”
“That is?” He looked worried.
“I think I’m going to gain a few pounds.”
Chapter 5
Jake stared at the estimate from the furnace repairman. It had been sitting on his desk all day, and he knew the repairs were going to be costly. The problem was the heating and cooling system was old enough to be replaced. A new one would be more energy efficient and was the best long-term solution, but where was the money going to come from?
A sharp rap on his doorframe made him jump.
“Ha – gotcha!” It was Al, the volunteer church handyman, who was always ready with a joke or comment. Al was the kind of guy you’d want for a grandfather, always ready to solve a problem or offer a joke.
“Reverend, you look downright glum. Is there anything I can do for you today?”
“Oh, just thinking it might be a cold winter if the heater goes out.”
“I hear you – I talked to the guy who was looking at it, and he didn’t seem hopeful.”
Jake shook his head. “We could use more hope around here.”
“Then it’s a good thing you brought in that new choir director. She’s got me hoping something will break so I can help her out.”
Jake smiled. “Just don’t join the choir, I’ve heard you sing.”
Al pretended to be offended. “You’ve ruined my plan.”
Jake scratched his head. “Speaking of Marian, I do have something you might help me with. How would you like to play private detective?”
“I’d rather play doctor, but private detective is a good second best.” Al quipped. What do you need?”
Jake ignored Al’s quip. “Marian has an old boyfriend issue. I wondered if you could try to find something out about him, and maybe a bit more about her background.” Jake hesitated. “I was wondering if he’d make trouble for her or Mrs. Hubbard.”
“She’s living with Polly?” Al brightened. “ It’s no problem at all for me to stop over there and make sure everything is all right. No problem at all.”
Jake chuckled, knowing Al was a big fan of Mrs. Hubbard’s baking. “You might stop by and fix that shutter on the left front window. When I was over there, it looked like it might fall off any day.”
A big smile spread over Al’s weathered face. “Now you’re talking! I can do that tomorrow.” He stood up. “Any idea of where to find this boyfriend?”
“His apartment’s off of Avent Ferry Road. I still have the directions from when we picked up her stuff.” Jake handed him a slip of paper.
“Does this paper self-destruct?”
Jake rolled his eyes. “I don’t think so, but be careful. We don’t know who this guy is.”
Al saluted and headed down the hall.
A few minutes after Al left, Jake heard the sound of laughter coming up the stairs, signaling the end of children’s choir practice. He welcomed the break in his thoughts and hoped Marian would follow so he could ask her how she felt about her new job. His wish was soon gratified as she waltzed into his office and perched on the back of a chair. In the week she had been here, she hadn’t yet sat down in his office -- she either stood in the doorway or when invited in, or perched on the back of a chair.
“Reverend Jacob, have you looked at the songs for the Christmas program?” She held up a typed list.
“I think so, let me see.” As he looked over the list, he noticed penciled notes by several of the songs.”
“Is this a tradition ...” she seemed hesitant, “or is there a requirement for all these?
He glanced up from the list. “Why?”
“It seems … well over-ambitious. I can see why the last music director left. Between the organist playing with an attitude and these pretentious programs, she must have been pulling out her hair.”
Jake shook his head. “Your predecessor had very thin hair, but not from that. Anyway, this program was her creation, and you may change it as you wish.” He thought for a moment. “I would like to see what you come up with, though.”
Marian jumped up from her perch. “Thank you – what a relief. I wasn’t sure I could teach that amount of music to children without turning into an ogre!” From the tone of her voice, Jake thought she might hug him, but instead she took a step toward the door. “It seems too early for Christmas, but I found this program in the desk and thought that to learn all these songs I’d have to start now, and it’s not even close to Halloween!
“There are so many great songs I think they’d enjoy learning that they could sing all year long – you know, like He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands and classics like that-- songs that even when they are older they could still hum.” She continued out the door.
“Oh, wait, Marian. What did you say about Cliff, our organist?”
She whirled and faced him. “Oh right. I did mention him. Haven’t you noticed? Cliff plays the hymns so slow the choir can hardly sing to them and stay awake. But at least he plays so loud in parts that you can’t hear anyone singing, anyway. And then, the adult choir members tell me they always sing every verse. Is that true?”
Jake nodded affirmatively.
“I think that is the difference between Catholics and Protestants -- Catholics usually only sing the first and last verse. That way, there’s more time for the sermon and you still get out of church on time.” She said this so lightly, Jake chuckled in spite of himself. He considered for a moment, and then ventured:
“Since we are comparing services, what did you think of the sermon?”
“I really ...” She suddenly looked sheepish. “I don’t know. I was so worried I would miss something... thinking about what songs come next and what I’m supposed to do.” She added earnestly. “I’ll try to listen more next Sunday.“
“Well it wasn’t one of my liveliest.” The service was poorly attended, which was a good thing. He had looked up at her in the middle of his sermon and had totally lost his place. “The congregation looked like they were thinking of something else, too.”
“Probably about how long the next hymn was going to last.”
“Gee, thanks -- that makes me feel better.” He picked up his pen. “But if you talk to Cliff, be gentle, he’s also our accountant.”
As he watched her scamper to her office, he wondered if he had gotten more than he had bargained for -- but then, you don’t bargain with blessings that appear just when you need them. He shook his head, but the smile stayed on his face for several minutes.
Chapter 6
Marian hummed as she surveyed the small room that served as her office. Jake had arranged for her car to be rescued from the city. They’d towed it to a local garage that had space where it could stay until she had enough money for insurance and repairs.
She was grateful to have this job and hoped she could help Jake out as much as possible to repay his kindness. She felt confident about the music, and she was beginning to like the people, even though working with church people seemed daunting at first. She didn’t mind that she was working almost full time in a part time position -- things needed straightening out and there was a wealth of old church music in the files. Some of the old stuff had some beautiful melodies, which she was excited about updating and rearranging. She could take off time after Christmas.
She returned her focus to the job of simplifying the arrangement of a Christmas song for June, her volunteer accompanist. June was a young mother who had dragged her two shy, almost translucent blonde sons to Children’s Choir last week. They had hid behind Jane and began to cry when she tried to leave. They only calmed down when she agreed to stay in the room with them.
After practice was over, June asked Marian if she could use some help. “I noticed it was hard for you to play and direct at the same time.” She wiggled her fingers. “I used to play piano and I’d rather play than just sit here. I’d really like to do something, if you’d like some help.”
Marian was thrilled, but June had more enthusiasm than skill, and after Marian looked at the music, it seemed needlessly difficult. A key change to eliminate some of the sharps and a few adjustments here and there yielded a new, easy to play version. June could play this well -- she kept time like a metronome and never played louder than the children could sing -- unlike Cliff, the organist.
She had considered several ways of approaching Cliff, but kept losing her nerve. She overheard the kids describe him as “spooky”, which fit his appearance. He was tall and thin, with dark beady eyes and skin so pale she wondered if he had never been out in the sun.
She could hear him playing now, using the bass tones that reverberated most of the building. The Phantom of the Opera, she thought as she forced herself out of her office and into the sanctuary. He was not playing anything similar to what he played in church. It certainly wasn’t a hymn. It sounded classical and quite wonderful. She approached quietly; listening and watching his fingers fly all over the keyboard.
“Bravo!” She applauded when he was finished. Startled, he jumped up from the bench.
“You surprised me. I didn’t know anyone was listening.” He looked around, suspiciously. “Did you need something?”
“What were you playing?”
“Why do you ask?”
“It sounded like something I’ve heard before. I really enjoyed it.”
He seemed to relax a bit. “Bach. You know him? It’s the only Bach I memorized. I studied classical piano and organ for many years, but my music was destroyed by a fire in my apartment building.”
Marian was immediately sympathetic. “Yes, I do, and that fire must have been awful. It’s awful to lose music. I had some that I left behind in my old apartment and I miss having it.” She thought for a moment. “I had some Bach, too -- not that piece, but two that I had been studying for a music class project.” She stopped suddenly as an idea occurred to her. “Would you like to play some Bach before the service?”
Cliff looked shocked. “You’re new around here. I don’t think they’d like that. They like slow hymns for the service. I play this stuff to express myself.”
“Maybe during prayer? If you could play quietly?”
“Of course I could play quietly if it was prayer time and no one was singing, but I’m supposed to add volume to cover up the lack of talent of the choir.”
Marian raised her eyebrows. “Really? Who told you that?”
“Hey, I’m not a choir director, but I have an ear for music. A choir needs strong voices and a few to carry harmony and solos. Most of the choir is barely on key.”
Marion felt guilty for she’d thought that the first day herself. But the people were so nice and a few of them could sing. “Have you heard Anne? She volunteered for a short solo Sunday.”
Cliff played a few notes. “Good luck with that, she never says on key.” He looked up at her. “I hope you do have some luck. I’ve been through four music directors and three ministers and they never seem to stay. You sing real well, but I doubt you’ll last long.”
“Why do you say that?” Cliff seemed to cast a pall over her mood.
“Things just don’t seem to go right. I can’t explain it. This church should be thriving rather than falling apart. Maybe the place is cursed.”
“Cliff! You sound like you’re coming from the Middle Ages! I thought Christians didn’t believe in curses and stuff -- that’s just in movies.”
“Think not?” He began to play a low, resounding melody that could be a theme for a zombie movie. Marian laughed, lightening her mood.
Cliff paused his playing and glanced at her. “Don’t get me wrong, I think you know what you’re doing musically, but I’m just not an optimist about anyone good staying here.”
“I’ll be here long enough to see if you can play that lovely piece next Sunday -- and to make you listen to how improved the choir is.”
Cliff shook his head and started playing again. “I’ll believe it when I hear it -- or if you can get me some classical sheet music.”
Walking out, Marian thought of the stack of music in her file back at the apartment Magnus and she had shared. She wondered if she could sneak in and pick it up without having to confront Magnus.
For the next week, Marian searched the church music files for Bach, or any other classical composer that Cliff would like. Her efforts resulted in several interesting pieces the choir could try, but no Bach.
On Sunday, she also realized Cliff was right. Anne was nervous about the solo. When it was time, she opened her mouth and what came out was flat -- not the notes she was supposed to be singing. Marion did her best to smile, and join in as soon as she could, feeling bad she’d put Anne in that role. Anne thought she’d done just fine and smiled without a hint of embarrassment. She began to understand Cliff’s attitude a little.
She thought of buying some music for him, but couldn’t bring herself to spend any of the paltry music budget for music she knew she already had. She would just have to go over to her old apartment and get it.
Chapter 7
Two weeks later, Jake was in a quandary on whether or not to revise the last paragraph of his sermon when he heard Marian and her crew of laughing mini-people coming up the stairs. He hoped she’d stop by his office and say hello. He could hear her in the hallway talking with the last of the parents picking up their children. A few minutes later, he was delighted as she stuck her head in and waved.
“Oh, come in and sit down for a minute, Marian.
“Oh, thanks. It feels good to sit down.” She gracefully folded into a chair.
“How were the cherubs today?” He asked.
She smiled. “I really ought to be stricter with them, but some of them, especially that Dan – you know the cute little red haired kid?” She paused as Jake nodded. “The kid just cracks me up. He had the whole group laughing with his antics today.”
Jake had observed her technique - he had been walking down the hallway and heard one of the times when Dan had said something and the room burst into laughter. Feeling curious, he had peeked into the room. After they finished laughing, the children’s eyes had grown round. Priscilla, the little girl in the front row with picture-perfect curly hair, raised her hand and asked if he was going to be punished. Marian, trying not to laugh, had said no. Priscilla then asked if they all were to be punished.
“No, choir should be fun and it’s OK to laugh sometimes, as long as you are ready to sing when I rap my baton on this music stand.” She then tapped three times. “Let’s sing one of my favorite songs,” and started them singing Yes, Jesus Loves Me.
Simplifying and making music fun was Marian’s main theme. Jake figured she had natural talent as a teacher by the response from the congregation -- when she started teaching, there were only six children who were dragged in by their parents. After a few weeks, she presided over a dozen eager faces. The adult choir had also been sounding better and had gained two new members. Church attendance was up as well.
It probably was the music they came to hear. That was OK, as long as they came.
Jake recalled a disturbing dream he had the first week Marian had lead the choir. In the dream, he walked up to the pulpit and looked down at a church with every pew filled – that part felt wonderful. Then, just as he began to speak, half of the people stood up and started to leave. He gazed at the people in the aisles in alarm. “Wait!” He pleaded. “Come back, this is the best part!” They continued to leave. “There’s more hymns!” he pleaded. They kept walking until Marian started to sing. Then they all stopped to listen and went back to their seats.
He remembered it vividly -- it was one of those dreams where upon awakening, it took a minute to determine if it really happened, then once you realized it was a dream, you were very happy to be awake. A bit like dreams in middle school where you go to class and find out you are naked and everyone laughs at you.
Jake shook off the thought. It was just a dream, and Marian was not like the pied piper. One after-affect of the dream was that he spent more time thinking about what the congregation might need to hear. What challenges of faith might they be facing? What challenges of life were they dealing with? He found this easier to do if he thought about people he talked with and then wrote like he would be speaking to Marian -- he made an effort to make the message something she could relate to.
The fact was, he found thinking about her a very pleasant sensation and it made the sermons flow better. He had a nagging feeling that perhaps that this wasn’t exactly the way you should write sermons, but it seemed to be working.
The other result was that his messages seemed to be more interesting to the entire congregation, in which he had seen more students recently. The church was only a mile from campus and Jake had often wondered why they didn’t attract more students, but now they seemed to be coming.
Marian finished her story about the little boy jumping out from behind the curtain. “Well, I have to go see what surprises are left.” She said.
“The kids leave surprises for you?”
She laughed. “That’s what I call them. I’m learning little kids always seem to leave something – crumbs, pieces of gum, hats, gloves, just about anything not attached to them. I see now why my mother used to attach my mittens to my coat. I was probably always losing them – what am I saying, I lose them now!”
“You could look in the lost and found.”
“That’s a good idea -- I’ll go and look now and find one, whether it matches or not.” She jumped up, once again full of energy and headed down the hall. A bit of her voice seemed to hang in the air of Jake’s office as he stared at the space her golden hair had been just a minute ago. Lost items – that gave him an idea, and he started writing furiously.
Chapter 8
A week later, it was cloudy and overcast and Jake’s mood was not much brighter. He was staring at the financial results for the month. Income had risen, but he still had no idea on how the church could afford a new heating/cooling system. The current heater was limping along – they tried to put the least strain on it as possible, but he had the feeling that some part with some technical name could malfunction at any time. He visualized a cold winter ahead and people in church with their winter hats and gloves on.
There was a quiet knock. He looked up and Dorthea’s slight figure was in the middle of the open doorway, holding a large bouquet of flowers in front of her. Dorthea was one of the volunteers that helped with church functions. She was always doing something nice for someone.
“For you!” She had a shy smile. “My garden is doing so well this fall, I wanted to share some with you and Marian.”
Jake rose and rounded the corner of his desk. “Thank you – they’re beautiful. I’m sure they will brighten up our day!”
“If they do, I’ll be glad.” She said softy as she handed him the flowers. She glanced around. “Oh dear, I hope you have vases – I didn’t think to bring any, but I think there are vases in the mailroom. ” Jake rubbed the side of his head. This was the first time he’d needed a vase—it wasn’t something he needed often. “I think there might be, but I’m not sure exactly.”
“I’ll get one – just hold right there.” Dorthea scurried down the hall, leaving Jake sitting on the edge of his desk holding the flowers. Jake sniffed them -- they were fresh, homegrown chrysanthemums in yellow, purple and white. They reminded him of his mother. She had enjoyed growing flowers and he’d learned the names from her.
He felt out of place, holding the bouquet like a bride. He looked around – maybe he should see if Dorthea was having any luck finding the vase. He started down the hall to the mailroom. Looking down, he saw he had an uninvited guest – a green Spider that was making its way across the flowers towards him. He might have learned about flowers from his mother, but he’d never learned to tolerate bugs.
“Dorthea?” He tried to sound calm, but his voice came out an octave higher than usual. “Have you found the vases yet?”
She met him at the door and took the flowers he had been holding as far away as he could from his body. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Something wrong, Pastor Jake?” Dorthea glanced at the flowers, then looked up and made an amused clucking noise. “It’s a little green spider. Isn’t he cute?”
Jake regarded the spider with suspicion. “Is he poisonous? I’m afraid I don’t get along with bugs very well.”
“For starters, it’s probably a she and I think she’s quite harmless.”
“Would you mind holding her, then? I’ll look for the vases.”
Dorthea let the spider crawl on her hand for a moment, but stopped when she saw the horrified look on Jake’s face. “Are you afraid of spiders?”
“I believe they call it Arachnophobia.” Jake could feel himself blushing and began opening cabinets for diversion. “I thought the vases were in here.”
“We could keep her for a pet, but she’d be happier outside.” Dorthea teased as she walked out of the room. Jake managed to find two white vases and began gingerly dividing the flowers, making sure they were spider-free.
“Nice job!” Dorthea commented when she returned, peeking over Jakes shoulder, startling him. “Sorry – do you want me to take this one down to Marian’s office?”
Jake considered taking them himself, but then heard his phone ring. “Thank you, that would be great. And thank you so much for bringing them, Dorthea.”
Dorthea found Marian paging through a magazine of choir robes. She looked up and smiled.
“What pretty flowers!”
“They’re for you. My garden is doing so well, I wanted to share them with you and Pastor Jake.”
“Wow, thank you, that’s so nice. It’s been ages since anyone brought me flowers -- these are gorgeous.”
Dorthea clucked and shook her head. “Young men these days. A lovely girl like you ought to have flowers once in awhile.” She rearranged a stray yellow bud. “You remind me of my daughter.”
“Does your daughter get flowers?”
Dorthea laughed. “She used to. The young man she just married sent her plenty while he was courting her. They just got married a few months ago and now they live in Greensboro, so I still get to see them. I felt like I was getting to know the florist delivery man – he was such a nice gentleman.”
“That does sound nice.” Marian said, a bit whistfully.
“Of course, hot house flowers don’t have quite the scent that garden grown flowers do. And they don’t have extra visitors, like the spider that came with these.”
“Visitor?”
Dorthea laughed. “I hadn’t realized that Pastor Jake was afraid of spiders! It was just a green one, and when she walked on my hand, I thought he got a little pale.”
“Oh, that is funny!” Marian perked up. “Everyone’s afraid of something, I can handle spiders, but don’t like dogs. I’ll have to volunteer to take care of stray spiders for him.”
“Probably a kind thing to do.” Dorthea remarked as she headed down the hall, still chuckling.
Chapter 9
Al was on his way to Marian’s old apartment. It has taken some preparation -- he told himself, good preparation is a sign of a good detective. First, he had to think of a good excuse to drop by Polly Hubbard’s house. He had found a letter addressed to her in the volunteer’s mailbox, so had taken it over one afternoon. He had heard Polly baked in the morning, so early afternoon seemed like an opportune time. He had hit the jackpot -- she’d baked an apple pie! So he’d pointed out the broken shutter and fixed it. His reward was coffee in Polly Hubbard’s warm kitchen and apple pie. They had so much fun talking, she’d invited him over for dinner the next day.
He’d had a good chance to talk with Marian at dinner. Marian was indeed a lovely girl -- he could understand why the pastor was concerned about her safety. She seemed very open and genuine; it was hard to imagine a girl that sweet getting mixed up with anyone dangerous, but Jake had warned him to be careful. So he planned this all out. He had the perfect disguise -- a handyman! He had the tools, he had the knowledge -- he was going in.
For props, he had borrowed a clip board from the church. He’d listed several odd jobs and apartment numbers in the building. He even thought of a likely problem -- the toilet! Toilets always had something going wrong with them in apartments.
He took his toolkit out of his truck and checked the address with his clipboard. Yes, it was the right place. He took a deep breath and walked up the two flights of stairs. The things I do for the church, he thought as he knocked on the door. He could hear someone playing guitar inside.
“Who is it?” A low male voice inquired.
“Handyman.” Al said, trying to sound business-like.
“Handyman?” The voice sounded irritated. “I didn’t call a handyman.” The door opened and a very tall, handsome young man stared out at Al.
Al looked innocently at his paper. “You are Magnus Torentsen?”
Magnus nodded.
“Sorry to take so long, we got behind on requests. It said you’re having a problem with the toilet.”
“Maybe Myra called him.” Suggested one of the young men sitting on the couch. There were two long haired, thin guys sitting there. One had a note book and the other held bongo drums in his lap.
Magnus still looked puzzled. “Maybe. “
Al breathed an internal sigh of relief. “If I could just check it, I’ll make sure it’s working right and close the request.”
Magnus shrugged. “I guess. Come on in, the bathroom’s this way.” Al thought he’d just point the way, but he walked with Al through the small living room and opened the bathroom door. Al was surprised to see it was clean.
“Speaking of Myra, have you heard from her?” The other guy called from the living room.
“No -- If I hadn’t read her note, I’d really worry, but I guess she’s really mad. I didn’t realize she’d be that mad about the car.” Magnus said as he walked back in the living room, leaving Al to look at the toilet.
“Myra’s a dream. If I had a girl like that, I’d apologize and beg her to come back.”
“That’s if you had a girl at all.” Bongo man chimed in.
“Hey, I would if I could find her.” Magnus related sadly. “I’ve called all around, but she’s not staying with anyone I know. Either that, or she’s told her friends not to tell me where she went.”
“Ouch, that hurts.”
“Speaking of hurts, did you play him that I’m-so-bummed song you just wrote? Dave, you got to hear it, it’s really good.” Said bongo man.
“Dude! You wrote a song about her leaving? This is serious; you never get upset over girls, you’re the dumper, not the dumpee. You’ll just need to get drunk and forget her.”
“He’s tried that. It hasn’t worked. He still checks his phone for messages about every ten minutes.” This was punctuated with a bongo drum roll.
“Hey leave me alone, and let’s work on this song. It’s not funny!”
“He lost his girl and his sense of humor!” The sound of a minor scuffle ended that conversation. A few minutes later, Al heard the guitar again and it sounded like they were collaborating on some type of ballad, so he turned his attention to the toilet. Contrary to what he had thought, there was nothing wrong with it, so he packed up his tools, made a big check on the clipboard and headed out.
As he opened the door to go out, Magnus got up. “Everything working all right now?”
Al nodded, thinking that this guy didn’t seem so bad from what he’d seen. “Think so -- got it checked out.” He opened the door to let himself out.
“Thanks!” Magnus called after him.
Al breathed a sigh of relief. He never would have made it as a spy, going undercover was much too stressful.
Chapter 10
It was about an hour later that Jake heard a knock on his doorframe.
“Now what?” He looked up, irritated at the fourteenth interruption today. His ire melted as soon as he realized who it was.
“Is this a bad time?”
“Sorry, I’ve just had an afternoon full of problems and interruptions, but I’m happy to see you. Please come in.”
“I just wanted to say thank you for sharing the flowers.” She hesitated. “I don’t mean to pry but it’s unusual to find you in a bad mood. Can I help with the problems in any way?”
He shook his head. “Not really, they are financial. Things like the budget – more going out than coming in, and the heating system needing to be overhauled or replaced – thanks for asking, though.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be like the flowers?”
He gave her a puzzled look.
“You know, like these lilies. The lilies of the field. ”
“These are chrysanthemums.”
“What ever! They’re flowers. Don’t be so literal – the point is, you’re supposed to not worry and put your trust in God, if I heard it right.”
A sheepish grin crept over Jake’s face. “Wow – that’s wonderful. You were listening! That was very perceptive of you – I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”
“Perhaps people listen more than you think.”
“That perhaps could be dangerous. I’ll have to be careful what I say.”
“That’s probably a good idea.” She offered with smile and smug toss of the head and headed down to the choir room. Jake wondered if he had been insulted or complemented, but somehow when she said it, it didn’t matter. Someone was listening – more importantly, she was listening. A grin spread over his face and he felt himself sitting up straighter. Things would work out, somehow.
Later that day, Marian stopped by again. She paused for a moment after perching on the chair. “Jacob, could I ask you a favor?”
He leaned forward. “Sure, what is it?”
“Could you give me a lift over to Magnus’s apartment? Where I used to live?”
A feeling of dread filled him. “Why?”
She looked down. “I promised Cliff some Bach, and I know I had some sheet music there.”
Jake looked surprised. “You’ve made peace with Cliff?”
She nodded. “Haven’t you noticed? He’s really a very talented organist.”
“If you say so, but why do you have to go back to get the music?”
“He wanted some – his was lost in a fire. I had several pieces for a class that I took, and there isn’t any in the church files. I looked. And it’s pretty expensive to buy it, and besides, I have to go and get the music I left there anyway before Magnus moves or some girl throws it out or something.”