Composing Amelia

by Alison Strobel

  Dane eyed Marcus. “Seriously? I didn’t know you were into all that.”

  Marcus smirked. “Into what? Procreating?”

  Dane laughed. “No, I just didn’t peg you as the paternal type. At least not yet.”

  Marcus shrugged. “Well, I’m not saying I want a whole football team. But the idea of being entrusted with that life—I mean, just the science of it, the fact that God makes a whole new human being that’s got parts of you and your wife—I think it’s cool. And I think Amelia would make a great mom.” He paused to watch the fight that had broken out on the ice. “But she’s made it clear she doesn’t want children yet. Possibly ever. And if that’s really how it turns out, then I’ll be okay with it.” That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway. He grinned at Dane. “I’ll just borrow yours every once in a while to make up for it.”

  Dane pointed a finger at him. “I’ll send him to your house when he starts asking all those God questions. Your training has you a lot more equipped for it than mine does.” He smacked a hand to his forehead. “Oh man, it better be a boy. What the heck am I gonna do with a girl?”

  “Same things you’d do with a boy. But with pink gear.”

  “Ha, yeah,” Dane said, then pegged Marcus with a stare. “So, hey, I hear you have some news, too. I can’t believe you haven’t told me about this job yet. What gives?”

  Marcus gave him a skeptical look. “Dare I ask how Amelia described it?”

  “Jill didn’t give a lot of details, other than it’s in … Nebraska, was it? There was apparently little discussion about the job itself and more discussion about how Amelia wasn’t particularly thrilled about the location and timing.”

  Marcus couldn’t help the sheepish smile that came to his face. “Yeah, she’s not real excited at the idea. But I sure am. It’s a senior pastorship at a small independent Bible church, and yes, it’s in Nebraska. They got my résumé from the pastor of one of the churches I sent it to in Illinois; their head elder is old friends with the guy. They just dismissed their old pastor; the letter didn’t say why, but it did say that they’re coming out of a long season of legalism and heresy so I’m assuming the last guy was the reason. And now they’re looking for someone to help them redefine themselves.” He spread his hands. “I know it sounds off the wall, given the plans we had, but the challenge has me seriously stoked.”

  Dane nodded. “Challenge sounds like an understatement. But wow—senior pastor. That’s a lot of responsibility. Think you’re up for it? I mean, I don’t want to knock your abilities; I’m not saying you couldn’t pull it off. It just sounds like you’d be jumping into the deep end.”

  Marcus’s jaw clenched. Don’t get defensive, he told himself. Dane’s just looking out for you and trying to be a good friend. Respect that. “I hear you. And I understand the concern. I’m a little surprised myself at the invitation, but I’ve been praying, and they’ve obviously been praying, and I figure it wouldn’t hurt to explore it and give it a chance, see what happens.” Marcus wished that everyone in his world would just be supportive for once.

  Dane took his drink from the waitress who had returned. “And Amelia’s not happy.”

  Marcus winced. “No.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “And I can understand her reluctance, especially now. I assume Jill also told you that Amelia won a position yesterday with a new theater group that’s starting in the city. All musicals, all the time, and she’s the resident pianist. Which is great, and I’m excited for her. She’s so talented; she deserves an audience. But I can’t help thinking: What about me? She didn’t even bother to feign concern over the fact that if she takes this job, I can’t take the Nebraska position.” He stabbed the ice in his drink with his straw. “Anyway it’s not like I’ve been hired or anything, so who knows, maybe it won’t matter in the end.”

  “But she knows you applied all over the country. Heck, she helped you look for listings, didn’t she? And now she doesn’t want to move?”

  “Well, I applied in big cities. We both wanted—still want, honestly—to be in a metropolitan area. And that’s the problem in her eyes: This church is in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Not a lot of opportunities for someone looking to launch a music career, unlike New York or Chicago or LA or Dallas. But if the churches in New York and the like aren’t calling me for interviews or offering me jobs, then what else am I supposed to do? How can I turn down a possibility of a job when it’s the first real possibility I’ve had? I cannot work at Target forever.”

  “I hear you. Well, congrats on the interview, bro.” He sat back and crossed his arms. “Marcus Sheffield, Senior Pastor. Pretty impressive.”

  The patrons around them cheered, and Marcus and Dane both turned their attention to the television to catch the replay. But Marcus was only half interested in the game. His thoughts were stuck on the job in Nebraska, the job that kept him up at night and felt more right every time he talked about it. Of course it would be a difficult position to handle without prior experience. But what was so wrong with him that made everyone think he was incapable of succeeding?That’s an exaggeration, he told himself. Obviously the elders of New Hope Church in Wheatridge, Nebraska, didn’t think that. They wouldn’t have written if they hadn’t considered him up to the challenge. See? Not everyone thinks you’re incapable.

  Just the people who should have been cheering him on.

  Amelia looked at the clock again. The game had to have ended by now—what was taking Marcus so long to get home? He and Dane were good friends, but didn’t have the tendency to forget time when they hung out the way she and Jill did. Marcus’s dependability gave her a sense of security, something she’d always craved and was so happy to find, and when he deviated from his usual, predictable nature, it stressed her out. She’d already been mildly irritated that he’d spent one of his rare job-free nights at a bar with Dane, though she knew he needed time with his friends too.

  She turned back to her keyboard and continued to play a piece she’d learned as a warmup at Juilliard. Muscle memory allowed her to play it without thinking; it gave her body something to do while her mind fidgeted.

  She and Marcus hadn’t had the chance to talk much since she’d won the position with the theater troupe, and the suspense was killing her. She really thought Marcus would capitulate and give up the notion of the Nebraska interview since she now had an actual job anchoring her in LA, but while he’d been enthusiastic for her, he hadn’t said anything about his own plans. He couldn’t still be thinking about going, could he? What was the point?

  By the time he got home, Amelia had gone over her arguments for staying in California so many times that she had to swallow back the urge to dive right in when he walked through the door. Maybe Dane had talked some sense into him; she should give him the chance to admit he’d changed his mind before inundating him with her reasoning. She rose from the keyboard bench and met him at the door with a kiss. “What took you so long? I was getting worried.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. Game went into a shoot-out and we wanted to see how it ended.”

  She was relieved the reason was so mundane. “Oh, okay. That’s cool. Exciting game, then, huh?

  “Yeah, great game—Ducks won and Selanne scored the winning shot with a wicked move.” He hung up his jacket and stretched. “Dane’s cousin owes him some cash, so when he gets it he’s buying tickets for the four of us for the Ducks-Avalanche game in January.”

  Amelia felt itchy waiting for the conversation to turn. “That will be fun.”

  “Yeah, should be.” He planted another kiss on her cheek and took her hand to lead her to the couch.

  “So … how’s Dane?”

  “He’s good. Still not convinced this pregnancy isn’t the end of the world, but I think he’ll come around eventually.” He smiled, though he looked unsure. “I told him we’d help out, babysit and stuff so they could go out. We’d do that, right?”

  “Oh—definitely, of course.” We can’t do that if
we’re in Nebraska, she thought with relief. “So you’re turning down that interview, then?”

  Marcus visibly tensed. “No, I’m still going to interview. I actually booked my flight this afternoon.”

  She gaped at him, shocked. “Are you serious? We didn’t agree that you would go. We only agreed that we would pray about it. Why didn’t you ask me? I have a job now—I can’t just up and leave.”

  A flash of defiance shone in Marcus’s eyes. Had he intentionally avoided the conversation? “Look,” he said with his palms out, as if protecting himself from her, “it’s not like I’ve accepted a position. But just like you, I want to move forward with my career. I’m just as tired as you are of dead-end jobs. I just need to see where this goes.”

  She took a deep breath. She did understand his position. But still … “So what happens if you do get an offer?”

  He shrugged. “I’d have to consider it.”

  Her understanding turned to anger. She rose from the couch. “Marcus, this is my point. Don’t put yourself in the position of even being offered the job if it’s going to tempt you to take it seriously. We can’t move to Nebraska. It makes no sense.”

  Marcus’s expression remained infuriatingly set. “Amelia, I can’t just write this off. I told you, I feel like God is prompting me to consider this. I can’t say no.”

  Amelia rolled her eyes. “Oh, sure, play the God card. I can’t argue with that, can I? No, wait—I can. How is it that you getting offered an interview is God working, but me actually getting a job isn’t? Does it only count because your job is ministry? Does that make your career more important than mine?”

  “No, of course not.” He ran his hand through his hair, and Amelia could see she’d rattled him. “I can’t speak to what, if anything, God was doing when you got that job. All I know is that I really feel God is leading me to pursue this.” He stopped, his eyes closing briefly, then continued with a quieter tone. “Look, why don’t you come with me? Maybe if you saw what Wheatridge is really like, instead of just assuming it’s a cultural black hole, you’d deci––”

  “No.” The word was out before she could craft a more diplomatic response. At this point it was as much about principle as it was about the actual job. “You obviously don’t value my career. If you did, you wouldn’t be going out there in the first place. I don’t support this, Marcus, I’m sorry. The whole thing is …” She threw up her hands, her words cut off by her exasperation. She sat down hard on the keyboard bench and pulled on her headphones, then began to play Tori Amos’s “Precious Things.” She needed to pound the keys and blast the sound without bothering the neighbors. Plus, playing with the headphones on was the closest she could get to having some privacy in their tiny apartment. From the corner of her eye she saw Marcus throw up his hands and sit down on the couch to watch television. It was getting late; both of them should have been getting ready for bed, but Amelia wasn’t about to open herself up to more conversation by disengaging from her music.

  It took over an hour, but eventually Marcus made the first move toward bed. Anger and energy spent, Amelia’s playing had dwindled to lullabies and scales, and she turned off the sound in her headphones so she could tell without looking when Marcus had finally gone to bed. The sound of the bed creaking beneath his weight was the signal she’d been waiting for; she sat five more minutes before turning off the keyboard and going to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

  Be asleep, she thought as she emerged from the bathroom to pull on her pajamas. She didn’t want to go to bed with this unresolved issue clouding the atmosphere, but neither did she want to hash it out anymore. She slipped between the sheets, careful to keep to her side of the bed, and was startled when Marcus’s voice broke the silence.

  “I won’t take it if you really don’t want to go.”

  She froze. “What?” Surely she must have misunderstood.

  He took a deep breath, as though saying the words required more strength than he had. “If they offer the job, and you really don’t want to go, I won’t take it.”

  There had to be a catch. “For real? How can you say that? I thought it was God’s decision.” Her tone was more sarcastic than she’d intended, and the moment of quiet before he spoke made her think he might recant. Instead he said, “It is God’s decision. But if He wants us to go, He’ll give you the desire too. That’s how we’ll know it’s the right thing to do.”

  Wow. This was the man she’d married. And she could accept his logic—even if admittedly it was because she was positive she would never desire to move to Nebraska. Still, she slid closer to Marcus and wrapped him in a hug. “Thank you.”

  Marcus stared at the lights that shifted on the ceiling from the traffic on the street outside. He should never have said it. But he just hadn’t been able stand the thought of Amelia being so angry with him. Irrational as his head knew it was, his heart worried she wouldn’t love him if he didn’t provide some kind of compromise. He couldn’t risk that. And the more he thought about it, the more it made sense that God really would make Amelia excited about moving if it was the right thing to do. Or, if not totally excited, at least willing. Inaction until unity was the phrase their pastor often used when discussing decision making in marriage. It had always made sense. But … could couples always be united? Sometimes a decision had to be made. What then?

  Change her mind, he begged God. Please, give me this job and change her mind. He was out of options, and he was out of patience. If he wasn’t offered this job, what then? Not to mention that the job description—aside from the location—sounded even more exciting after having heard back from Ed Donovan, the head elder at New Hope.

  While Amelia had been playing—or rather, what seemed to be assaulting—her piano, Marcus had watched the news, then checked his email to kill time before bed. He’d emailed Ed earlier in the day to let him know when he’d be coming to town for the interview, and Ed had written back to confirm the date and answer some of Marcus’s questions about the position. He now knew that the old pastor had descended into heresy so gradually no one really noticed until they were in the thick of it. When the elders had finally come to their senses, they’d ousted the man and nearly caused a church split in the process. They were limping along now, in need of a pastor who could unify them again and retrain them in biblical Christianity. The elders were taking turns preaching, but none of them was a gifted speaker, and none of them had any formal training in theology or doctrine. The church was multigenerational, but with far fewer young families and couples.

  “We’d love to see that change,” Ed had written. “Wheatridge has a growing population of people under thirty-five. To have someone in that demographic at the helm would help in attracting them to the church.”

  I want this, God. Please make it happen.

  Marcus knew his prayers were selfish, but he figured he might as well admit his feelings; God knew them anyway. And he was as sure as he had ever been about anything that this job was for him, so he was confident he was praying in agreement with God’s plan.

  But he couldn’t help worrying that he and Amelia would come to an impasse.

  Deep breath, he told himself. One thing at a time. Do the interview, get all the details, and then start pleading with God.

  Marcus flipped to his stomach and pulled the pillow over his head to shut out the light from the window. He had to sleep—he had an early start with his surf class tomorrow. But his head throbbed with stress.

  He never should have said it.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Santa Ana winds had finally blown away the cold weather and brought back the winter warmth LA was famous for. Amelia checked the weather for Nebraska before heading to sushi with Jill and couldn’t help smiling. The forecast predicted freezing rain and possible snow that night. Marcus had never lived anywhere with snow. We’ll see what you think of Nebraska after this.

  He’d left that morning for his interview, and while Amelia felt much better about everything given the promise h
e’d made her, she was still nervous about his trip. She didn’t think it was right to interview for a job he obviously wasn’t going to take. It felt like tempting fate.

  Amelia swept powder over her nose and examined herself in the mirror. Her new hairstyle still took her by surprise now and then, but she was glad she’d done it. Her copper hair now rested on her shoulders, and the loss of the extra weight made the natural curl more pronounced. Marcus had been shocked at the unplanned change but loved it. Amelia had no memory of her mother’s hair being any shorter than her triceps, and she’d always worn it down. She’d never had bangs, either. Amelia hadn’t realized how stressful those sightings in the mirror had been until she knew she wouldn’t have them anymore. She’d almost completely stopped flinching when she looked in the mirror.

  She arrived at the sushi bar just as Jill was emerging from the ladies’ room. “I swear I go to the bathroom every ten minutes,” she said as they slipped onto stools at the bar. “And I drink, like, five gallons of water a day. Am I pregnant with a baby or a fish?”

  Amelia eyed Jill’s middle. “Don’t ask me.”

  “Dane said Marcus did an admirable job of trying to cheer him up about the baby. I had no idea he was so into having kids.”

  Amelia tilted her head. “Who—Marcus?”

  “Yeah.” She looked concerned. “You didn’t know that?”

  Amelia shifted uneasily on her seat. “No, I did. We talked about it before we got married. Once or twice, anyway. I told him I didn’t want any kids, at least not for a long time, and he was cool with it.” But what if he wasn’t anymore? Amelia didn’t know if she could handle any more life-changing surprises from Marcus. He’d better not come back from Nebraska with some dream to start having babies.