“Before we go in, I have to tell you something,” Dylan said. He took my hand and squeezed. “That reporter from the Times posted his review this morning.”
“Really?” A bubble of excitement grew until I glanced at Dylan. He wasn’t smiling. “How bad?”
“Dad’s going to be furious tonight.” Dylan looked out the windshield again. “And he might fire you again.”
The bell rang, ending any chance at further conversation.
“We have to go,” I said, scrambling out of the car. The choir would be getting ready to walk in from the nave and I wouldn’t be there. Again. This was getting to be a really bad habit of mine. Over my shoulder, I shouted as I ran toward the back door, “Go about halfway up the aisle. Mom and Dad will be on the right.”
“Where’re you going?” he asked.
I pulled open the door and grinned. “To sing.”
Reverend Matthews held out my robe as the door closed behind me. “I was beginning to wonder if you had finally left us for the rock and roll lifestyle.”
“Never.” I took the robe from him and put it on.
“Good to hear,” Reverend Matthews said. His smile reached his eyes. He’d been our pastor for all my life. His tall stature and kind demeanor endeared him to his congregation. “Mrs. Matthews has chosen ‘How Great Thou Are’ for you today. Can you manage?”
“One of my favorites,” I said, zipping up the robe. The rest of the choir, four men and three women, waved me toward them. I smiled at the reverend and joined the choir. Together we walked out and took our seats in the two pews behind the pulpit. The organ played the opening hymn and I sang along, searching for Dylan. He sat beside my father, head down in the hymnal he held for both of them to sing from. I grinned. This felt right. The entire moment felt like it was kismet or fate or God’s will or whatever. It was how my life needed to be. How I wanted my life to be.
And it scared the hell out of me too.
My life could never really be this. I was leaving in at the end of summer. There wouldn’t be a lot of this any more, even if Dylan did come to church with us again. It broke my heart a little. My family was my everything.
Reverend Matthews took us through the readings. The first hit me like a ton of bricks, 1 Timothy 5:8.
But if anyone does not provide for his relatives, and especially for members of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.
Then he recited Proverbs 15:27.
Whoever is greedy for unjust gain troubles his own household, but he who hates
bribes will live.
If I stayed, wouldn’t I be failing my family by not providing? The verse might’ve been referring to the head of the household, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t apply to me. If I left and made money as a singer, I could take care of my parents. Mom could work less. Dad could have better medical care.
But if I leave, wouldn’t that be greed too? I wasn’t sure. Maybe I was taking everything too literally.
The opening notes of “How Great Thou Art” began and the choir rose as one, just as we had for the last six years. I began singing, closing my eyes and losing myself into the words. And I asked for answers in my vocal prayers. The spirit moved me to tears. I’ve always believed in God. My Sundays were one of my favorite days. But never had I felt so ... spiritual as I did in that moment. It was weird and wonderful at the same time. I let my voice soar.
When I sang my last note, I opened my eyes and met Dylan’s gaze.
Someone tugged on my robe, pulling me into my seat. I hadn’t realized that I’d been frozen in place.
Reverend Matthews smiled at me before taking his place behind the pulpit. He began his sermon, but I didn’t hear a word. My gaze stayed locked with Dylan’s. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to look away. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t figure out. It didn’t scare me by any means. It was possibly maybe positive.
When the organ began again, he looked away. I watched as he opened the hymnal, found the right page and held it out for my father. Then he met my gaze again. He didn’t sing, but I sang loud enough for both of us.
Reverend Matthews was already at the front doors to great his parishioners as they left. Dad tapped Dylan’s arm and Mary pulled me toward the back door.
“Girl,” she said when we were out of sight of everyone else, “I don’t know who that boy is, but he sure has a thing for you.”
Theresa snorted beside her. “You saw that too? I thought they were going to stop Reverend Matthews in the middle of the sermon and demand he make them legal and all.”
“What?” I stared at Theresa, totally shocked.
She just raised an eyebrow.
“Here, give me your robe,” Mary said with her arm stretched out. “Don’t leave him waiting. I’ll hang it up for you.”
“And when you get him alone, don’t do anything you shouldn’t do, child,” Theresa added with a motherly nod. “No matter how much you want to do it.”
I had to get out of there. Taking Mary up on her offer, I tossed my robe over her arm and took off out the door. They were talking
