Composing Amelia

by Alison Strobel

  She read it and felt something click inside. She sat still, as though moving might dislodge the feelings of warmth and peace that were spreading from her center to the farthest boundaries of her body. After a moment, through more tears, she texted him back.

  Amen.

  EPILOGUE

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  “Well done, Christy,” Amelia said to her pupil. “I can tell you really practiced this week. Keep that up, and you’ll have this piece ready in time for the recital in December.” She smiled at the girl as she wrote the next assignment in a notebook. “Here you go. Pay attention to measures thirty through forty-two, where it gets a little trickier. Try to practice that part ten times a day. Cool?”

  “Okay, thanks, Mrs. Sheffield.” Christy hopped off the piano bench and took her notebook from Amelia, then left for the parking lot where her mother awaited her. Amelia turned off the keyboard and headed for the kitchen to start dinner. The timing was just right; she had half an hour left before Hope woke from her nap. She’d have time to get the casserole warmed through and go over her notes for the evening.

  Once dinner was in the oven, Amelia sat with a cup of tea at the kitchen table with her notes spread before her. At the top of the first page was the title: Community Band Info Meeting. Ideas without organization covered the rest of the page and two more besides; with a pen she added details here and there and then started an agenda for the meeting. Since she didn’t know how many people to expect, her main goal for the evening was just to see what kind of interest there might be in her plan. She hoped she’d get a decent turnout. Surely there had to be some other musicians hanging around Wheatridge looking for an outlet for performance.

  When Hope awoke, Amelia put her notes away and brought her into the living room. “Good afternoon, my love,” she said to the swaddled baby. Hope smacked her lips in anticipation of her post-nap feed, and Amelia settled with her on the sofa and propped her feet on the coffee table. “That was a good nap. Thank you for letting Mommy work.” She stroked Hope’s silken strawberry-tinted hair and smiled as the baby locked eyes with her. The instant when Hope looked at her that way always felt like the engaging of a magnet on Amelia’s heart. It pulled her from her own thoughts and self and connected her in an otherworldly way with the miracle child whose existence still astounded her daily. Only days old according to her estimated birthday, but just over three months in the world, Hope’s tiny frame was beginning to look more like Amelia had expected it to, back before the premature delivery. Her newborn clothes didn’t hang quite so roomily anymore. She didn’t look nearly as alien as she had just a week or two ago. But it was her eyes Amelia couldn’t get enough of. Giant blue eyes, just like her daddy’s, which would focus on Amelia as though she were the only thing in the room and seemed to have the wisdom of the world locked behind them.

  Marcus came home just as Hope was finishing her snack. “There’s Daddy,” Amelia cooed, unlatching Hope from her breast and handing her over to Marcus. “Just in time for burping.”

  “Ah, my favorite job,” he said with a grin. “Gotta teach my girl how to represent. Come on now, Hopesy, don’t be shy, let it rip for Daddy.”

  Amelia laughed as she put her shirt back to rights. “Nice, Marcus.”

  “I do what I can.” He gave her a kiss and sniffed the air. “Smells good. Lucy’s chicken and rice?”

  “No, Holly’s chicken and rice.”

  He chuckled. “Knew it was someone’s.” He rubbed Hope’s back and kissed her temple. “Ready for tonight?”

  Amelia wrinkled her nose. “I’m nervous. What if no one shows up?”

  “People will show up, I promise.”

  She smirked. “Why, you paying people to come to protect my pride?”

  “Yes—bribing them with our overabundance of casseroles.” He winkled. “Seriously though, you have nothing to worry about. Don’t forget there was a band at one point. And I doubt those people have all moved. They’ve just been waiting for the right person to come along and lead them. And here you are.”

  She sighed, then stood as the kitchen timer beeped. “I know, I know. Can’t help worrying, though.”

  “The elders prayed their hearts out this morning over it, so I don’t think you have anything to fear.”

  She grinned as she pulled the casserole from the oven and sat it on the range while she set the table. “That was sweet of them.”

  “Well, you know them.”

  She did. And she was glad of it.

  Marcus adjusted Hope in the Mei Tai carrier Amelia had shown him how to use and started working on the dinner dishes while Amelia showered before the meeting. “I talked to Grandpa Ed today about you. He thinks you’re pretty great, did you know that? We all do.” He kissed the top of her head. “I asked him if he would christen you this weekend when Auntie Jill and Uncle Dane come into town. You don’t mind if he does it instead of me, do you? It would be nice to just be dad for that, and not the pastor, too.” He dropped the knives and forks into the dishwasher’s silverware caddy. “Grandpa Ed is a good guy. You’re really going to like him. I think you’ll like Grandpa Sheffield and Grandpa Rimes, too, but unfortunately they’re not very close by.” Marcus made a mental note to extend another invitation to his parents to visit. His mother had come out just after Hope was released from the hospital in September, but his father hadn’t been willing to take the time off from work. Marcus had worked hard not to let it bother him. He’d been mostly successful.

  Marcus brought his thoughts back to the suds-filled sink. “Mommy bought you a beautiful dress that I think is actually going to fit you. How nice will that be, clothes that fit?” He kissed her head again. “You’re getting there, sugarplum. Auntie Jill and Uncle Dane can’t wait to meet you. And you’re gonna love Bradley. He’s a cutie. Mommy and Auntie Jill are already plotting your wedding. Though if Bradley turns out anything like his parents, then you’d be wise to grab him when you can. They’re good people. Mommy and Daddy introduced them, did you know that?” He shut the dishwasher and turned it on, then rinsed out the sink. “Mommy and Auntie Jill went to school together, and so did Daddy and Uncle Dane. We had a double wedding on the beach after graduation.” Marcus stopped swaying as his mind automatically did the math. “Man. That was only a year and a half ago. Do you have any idea how much has happened in the last, what, seventeen months?” Marcus shook his head as he dried his hands. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Seriously. But in retrospect, it was all worth it.” He patted Hope’s diapered bottom through the Mei Tai and went to the bedroom with swaying steps. “Especially since we got you in the end.”

  Amelia followed Marcus into the library’s meeting room, where ten rows of chairs were set up for her meeting. “Oh man, too many seats. Even with a good turnout it’s going to feel empty in here.”

  Marcus chuckled and began to stack the last row against the wall. “Stop stressing, babe.”

  “I know, I know.” Amelia took a deep breath and set her notes on the rickety podium at the front, then freed Hope from her carrier. “Remember, if she starts crying, just bring her in and I’ll feed her.”

  “She just ate, Ames, she’ll be fine.”

  “Well, you never know if she’s in a growth spurt or something. It’s not like you can predict that sort of thing.” She straightened the hat and socks that always seemed to spin on Hope’s tiny head and feet, then picked her up and cradled her against her chest. “And if you think anyone near you is sick, go somewhere else. I don’t want anyone sneezing or coughing around her.”

  “I know, Amelia. I was in the discharge meeting too, remember?”

  She gave Marcus a sheepish look. “I’m sorry.”

  He chuckled. “Relax.”

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  She topped off Hope as she reviewed her notes, then at seven o’clock, Marcus put the baby in the wrap again and gave Amelia a kiss. “Knock ’em dead, babe.”

  “Thanks.”

  Marcus and
Hope left, and Amelia chewed her lip as she anxiously watched the clock and the door. The weather had turned in the last two hours, and now a cold rain fell outside the large windows that made up one wall of the room. Just watch—now no one will come.

  At five after seven, a tall woman with long dark hair entered the room looking as unsure as Amelia felt. “Are you Amelia Sheffield?”

  Amelia sprang up from her chair. “Yes, that’s me. Hi.” She walked over to shake hands, then motioned to the chairs. “Better grab a seat before they’re all taken.” They shared a smile as they sat down. “I’m sorry, your name is …”

  “Oh, forgive me—Gloria Stedman.”

  “Nice to meet you, Gloria. What instrument do you play?”

  “Oboe and clarinet.”

  “Very cool. As a hobby? Or professionally?”

  “Mostly as a hobby, though I was in the orchestra that played for that Nebraska tourism commercial they came out with last year, so I’ve had one paying gig.”

  Amelia nodded and smiled. “Nice. How long—” Two more people walked into the room, and Amelia stood to welcome them. Three more trickled in, and by quarter after seven, there were twelve people in the chairs and Amelia started the meeting. The turnout was heavy on brass and light on strings, but she could tell from the questions people asked and by how engaged they seemed to be that the group that had assembled that night would be an excellent way to start.

  By eight o’clock, Amelia had exhausted her agenda and the group had decided on a rehearsal schedule. “I don’t have anything else to add,” she said when she saw Marcus appear in the doorway. “Feel free to stay and socialize, otherwise I’ll see you all at New Hope Church next Wednesday at seven.”

  Most people left, but a few sat to talk with people they apparently already knew, and just as Amelia was sitting down to nurse, Gloria came by and touched her shoulder. “I just wanted to thank you for organizing this,” she said. “I hope we get a chance to talk some more later.”

  Amelia nodded to the chair beside her. “If you’re not uncomfortable with me nursing, I’d love to chat more now.”

  Gloria sat down with a chuckle. “I have two of my own—it definitely doesn’t bother me.”

  “How old are your kids?”

  “My daughter is three and my son is eighteen months.” She hesitated, then said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but … do you go to New Hope?”

  “My husband is the pastor there, yes.”

  Gloria nodded. “I’d heard Pastor Carmichael had left—or been removed, or whatever.”

  Amelia raised a brow. “Did you know him?”

  “We used to go there, about six years ago. My husband and I left when Pastor Carmichael started going off the rails. My husband’s family had been there for decades. We all left together, and it was painful for us, but ten times more so for them. I take it things have changed a lot?”

  Amelia chuckled. “I think so, yes.” She told Gloria about how the congregation had rallied around her and Marcus when Hope had been born, and how even now, three months later, they still got at least one dinner a week from someone. “The church we were at in California was a lot bigger, but I only knew a handful of people intimately. Now I feel like I’ve got a huge extended family here in Wheatridge. I went through a … a difficult time with my faith, back before Hope came, and I never thought I’d be able to tell anyone at New Hope about that.” She smiled. “But I have. And people have been wonderful. Not just by letting me vent and ask questions, or by saying they’ll pray for me. But by really talking with me, and listening, and asking questions and actively helping me find answers. It’s incredible.”

  Gloria shook her head. “That’s nothing like what it was like before. I’m really glad to hear things are so much better.”

  “What church are you at now?”

  Gloria shrugged. “You know, we never really found another one we liked. We’d attend a place for a month or two, but nothing clicked.”

  “Maybe you guys should try New Hope again.”

  Gloria smiled. “Maybe we will.”

  By eight thirty, Hope had fallen asleep in Amelia’s arms, and Gloria and Amelia had become friends. When Gloria’s husband texted that the kids were restless for bed and wanted their mom, they said good-bye with a promise to meet for coffee the next day. Alone in the meeting room, Amelia prayed as she transferred Hope to the car seat, thanking God for the meeting going well and for having the chance to talk to Gloria. I feel like we clicked. I haven’t felt that kind of connection with anyone in a long time. I’m really looking forward to seeing her again tomorrow.

  Marcus walked in, a stack of books in his hands. “So who was that?

  “Gloria Stedman. Oboe and clarinet player and ex-New Hope parishioner.”

  “Really now?”

  “And we’re getting together tomorrow to hang out.”

  Marcus’s face lit up. “Hey, Ames, that’s fantastic.”

  “I know, isn’t it?” Amelia checked the straps on the car seat and then stood to put on her coat.

  “And the meeting? You had a good turnout, looked like. ”

  “Awesome. Everyone is in for Wednesday-night rehearsals, and apparently there are at least three people who wanted to come tonight but couldn’t. Incredible.”

  Marcus kissed her cheek and nodded to the books. “Want to trade and I’ll take the baby?”

  “No, that’s all right, I’ve got her.” Amelia adjusted her hood to shield herself from the rain and draped a blanket over the carrier. They walked out to the parking lot, and Amelia let out a sigh. “The air smells delicious, doesn’t it? I love the smell of rain.”

  “You used to hate the rain in California.”

  “I know. Funny, huh? I love it here.”

  Marcus froze. “What did you just say?”

  Amelia snorted and punched his arm. “I meant I love the rain here.”

  “Ah.”

  “But …” She shrugged. “I guess I wouldn’t be lying if I said that I maybe, sorta, kinda liked it here now.” She set the car seat into its base in the backseat and winked playfully at Marcus. Then she shut the door and let herself into the passenger’s seat.

  Marcus leaned over and kissed her. “I’m so glad.”

  Amelia smiled, relishing the unexpected feeling of contentment her little family gave her as Marcus drove them home. She was far from completely healed, far from confident that she wouldn’t still mess up this new role of mom and ministry wife.

  But she had hope.

  … a little more …

  When a delightful concert comes to an end,

  the orchestra might offer an encore.

  When a fine meal comes to an end,

  it’s always nice to savor a bit of dessert.

  When a great story comes to an end,

  we think you may want to linger.

  And so, we offer ...

  AfterWords—just a little something more after you

  have finished a David C Cook novel.

  We invite you to stay awhile in the story.

  Thanks for reading!

  Turn the page for ...

  • Reader’s Guide

  • Author Interview

  READER’S GUIDE

  Spoiler Alert!

  1. At the beginning of the story, Amelia and Marcus both are “stuck” in dead-end jobs. Have you been in a similar place? How did you respond?

  2. Do you think Amelia holds too tightly to her career dreams? Why or why not?

  3. How do you handle decisions in important relationships? Do you agree with the “inaction until unity” concept?

  4. Do you think Marcus was justified in accepting the job in Nebraska, breaking his promise to Amelia? How would you have reacted?

  5. Was Dane’s suggestion that Amelia stay in LA when Marcus moved to Wheatridge a wise one? Why or why not?

  6. Why didn’t Marcus confront Amelia right away about her suicide attempt? What would you have done in his place?

&n
bsp; 7. Kristine tells Amelia she’s not a Christian because of what it “does” for her. What do you think of this idea?

  8. Marcus learns that it is not his responsibility as a pastor to “make” the congregation participate. Do you agree with this? What is the proper role for a pastor?

  9. Both Marcus and Amelia struggle with wounds from their parents. How does this impact their sense of identity? How can they help each other in the healing process?

  10. What is the big difference between how Amelia and Marcus view their roles as parents?

  11. After Hope is born, Amelia still wonders what the “right” religion is. How do you deal with similar doubts?

  12. Do Marcus and Amelia strike you as being truly compatible as a couple? What is it that keeps them together?

  AUTHOR INTERVIEW

  1. Where did the inspiration for Composing Amelia come from? Do you remember when you first had the idea?

  My best friend/roommate in college developed bipolar disorder our junior year. She became a Christian at the end of our freshman year, so her faith was really young—but those two years had been filled with trials that had strengthened it, which I think really helped when she was deep in her depressions. The way other Christians handled it, though, when she told them what was wrong, really made both of us angry. There was a lot of, “You’re just not praying hard enough for healing” and “This is punishment for something; you need to confess your hidden sins.” The experience made me want to write a book about Christians and mental illness, and I still have an outline for a nonfiction book for the loved ones of people with BP that I started back when we were in the thick of her disease. When I started writing Composing Amelia, I envisioned it dealing a lot more with those kinds of issues, but it turned out God’s vision was a little different. Maybe someday I’ll write that other book, though!

  2. Were there some alternate endings of the story? How did you settle on this one?

  There was an entire alternate book, actually! My first draft of the story was very different from this one—Amelia went to Wheatridge at the same time Marcus did, the parishioners of the church played a much bigger role and were very unaccepting of Amelia and her artistic ways, and the whole baby Hope subplot was entirely different. But I was really pushing my agenda, wanting the book to focus more on how misinformed the people at the church were about BP, and it was clear I was forcing the story to be something other than what God wanted it to be. My developmental editor, Nicci Hubert, walked me through a total rewrite that got the story to about 90 percent of what the final version is. It was a tough job, letting go of what I wanted the book to be about, but in the end it’s not my book to write, it’s God’s to dictate, so I had to step back and allow Him to guide the story.