Kate’s Song

by Jennifer Beckstrand

  “He hates Scrabble,” she said.

  Still holding tightly to his daughter, he said softly, “You still love him.”

  A pathetic sob escaped Kate’s lips.

  “Elmer said as much,” Mamma whispered.

  Dat stroked Kate’s hair gently while Mamma came from behind and placed her hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Then why did you leave us, liebe?” Dat’s voice wavered. “Why?”

  Kate tugged away from her dat’s arms and wiped her eyes. “I tried to explain in the note. Maria needed me to testify for her son. Her brother drove me to Milwaukee. I told them I could only stay for a few weeks and then I was planning to return to Apple Lake.”

  Mamma and Dat looked at each other in confusion. “That is not what Aaron told us.”

  “Aaron?”

  Without warning, Dat buried his face in his hands and moaned. “Aaron. My son. What has he done?” He sank to the steps and sat, face in hands, his stocky frame shaking with every drawn breath.

  Care seemed to weigh Mamma down as she sat next to Dat and put her arm around him. “I am beginning to see.”

  “See what?”

  Mamma motioned for Kate to sit next to her. She put her hand to Kate’s cheek. “Tell us what happened, liebe. The day you left.”

  “Carlos came to get me. Maria needed me to care for her baby and then testify in a custody hearing. She might have lost her son if I had not helped.”

  Dat lifted his head.

  Mamma nodded. “You saw Aaron?”

  “Jah. I told him to tell you I would be back before harvest. And I wrote the notes for you and Nathaniel. I did not feel I could explain everything in my note.”

  “She wrote notes,” Dat said.

  Kate took Mamma’s hand. “On the day of the buggy accident, I knew. I knew that the Lord wanted my future to be with our community, to be with my family and my faith and Nathaniel. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  Mamma exhaled slowly. “Oh, my liebe, oh, my liebe.”

  “But then Aaron wrote and said you were happier without me, that my worldly ways were destroying our family. I doubted your love. I doubted my worthiness to live in the community.”

  Dat spoke in monotone syllables. “How many letters did you write us, Katie?”

  “Five. But you never wrote back. What was I to believe?”

  Pain filled their eyes as Mamma and Dat gazed at each other. “We sent you six letters, liebe,” Mamma said. “All but one came back unopened. We never got any of yours or ever saw the note.”

  Kate grasped the import of what Mamma said. “You didn’t?”

  Mamma shook her head, tears rolling down her cheek. “Aaron brought in our mail every day for weeks. I thought he was being thoughtful.”

  “My son,” Dat said, his hands clasped around his knees, his face a picture of agony.

  Kate felt dizziness wash over her. She would not have imagined that Aaron, even with his rigid ideas, could do such a thing. “He sent me three letters. He told me the family was better off without me.” Kate stared dumbfounded at the floor. “He must truly despise me to hurt me so. To hurt you so.”

  “He does not despise you as much as he loves himself,” Dat said. “And desires to be bishop.”

  The three sat in silence, listening to the distant howl of the wind outside. A storm was blowing in.

  “So this is why you decided to stay in Milwaukee? Because you thought we didn’t want you?” Dat said.

  “Jah.”

  To Kate’s surprise, her mamm smiled. “Oh, liebe, now you can come home. Now you can come home. We will demand that Aaron confess his sin and explain to Nathaniel. You can come home!”

  Kate slowly stood and leaned against the railing. “Nae, I cannot. I talked to Nathaniel on the phone. He knows that Maria’s boyfriend is dead and that I caused his death. He forgave me but said he never wanted to talk to me again.” Her voice cracked, and she walked around the small landing to regain her self-control. “He hasn’t merely rejected me, Dat, he acts as if I meant nothing to him, ever. Am I of so little value?”

  Dat pulled her to sit next to him again. “You are of infinite value.”

  “The Lord and Nathaniel have both abandoned me.”

  “How could our Lord and Savior abandon someone He bought with such a high price? Look at me, Kate.” Dat reached out and held her face between his hands. “I am your father. I am an imperfect man with many faults, but I would never turn my back on you. You are more precious to me than all the treasures in the world. Now think of our perfect Father. It is not in His character or His nature to forsake one of His children. It is impossible. If you cannot see God that way, then you do not see the love a father has for his daughter. God’s ways are not our ways. We cannot know why things happen. We can only trust that He knows all things. We must not trust in the arm of flesh, only God.”

  Kate stood up and turned her back on her parents. Slumping her shoulders, she lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Aaron has deceived us, Jared is dead, and I have lost Nathaniel. It does not seem like the doings of a being who loves me.”

  Mamma tried to grab her hand. She shrank from her mother’s touch.

  “Nothing is lost to the Lord,” Mamma said.

  “I am,” Kate said. She looked into her mamma’s eyes. “I will have a brilliant singing career. People from all over the world will know my name. I’ll have everything I ever dreamed of.” She depressed the latch on the stairwell door and slowly pushed it open. “Let God run other people’s lives and leave me alone.”

  Chapter Forty

  “There.” Shannon stabbed one more bobby pin into Kate’s hairdo. “I am amazing. We get started twenty minutes late and I still manage to make your hair look gorgeous with a half hour to spare.”

  Kate fingered a curl at the base of her neck. “Thanks, Shannon.”

  From behind, Shannon put her hands on Kate’s shoulders and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Now, if only we could fix that sadness as easily as I fixed your hair, that would be a real trick.”

  “I am fine,” Kate said.

  She stood and removed her first costume from the clothes hanger. Shannon, familiar with the routine, helped her ease it over her head and tightened the laces in the back. Kate raised her arms to make sure she had freedom of movement then dropped them to her sides and nodded at Shannon.

  Shannon gave her a quick yet significant hug and turned to retrieve her own costume from the rack.

  One of the girls from the ensemble stuck her head around the divider. “Kate, Dr. Sumsion’s out here to see you.”

  Kate emerged from the dressing room and looked to her left. Mamma and Dat sat with Ada on a bench at the far end of the hall. They stared at her but were too far away to do anything but observe. She looked the other way and spied Maria and Carlos marching toward her, with Alex riding on Carlos’s shoulders.

  Kate knew she was glad to see them rather than feeling so. In her present state, she was incapable of mustering enthusiasm for anything.

  She gave Maria a hasty hug. “Thanks for coming,” she said.

  “Hey, what about me?” said Carlos, spreading his arms for Kate.

  “Sorry,” Kate said. “You get a handshake.”

  Carlos glanced expectantly at the dressing room door. “I need a hug. Where’s Shannon?”

  Kate turned back to Maria. “Have you seen Dr. Sumsion? She was asking for me.”

  Someone grabbed Kate by the shoulder. Dr. Sumsion, wearing an elegant black formal, flashed her no-nonsense smile. “Kate, a woman from the Met is here to meet you before the performance. Come with me.”

  Kate followed Dr. Sumsion down the hall in the opposite direction of her parents. An elegant woman with snow-white hair, also in a black formal, stood waiting for them. “Kate, this is Mrs. Harriett LeFevre from New York.”

  Mrs. LeFevre held out a gloved hand. “Delighted to meet you, Kate. My assistant came to your performance on Monday and insisted that I fly out immediately and see
it.” Her earrings tinkled when she moved her head. “High praise, I assure you.”

  Kate tried to pay attention. Tried to be flattered by the compliment. The deference even Dr. Sumsion paid Mrs. LeFevre revealed how influential she must be. Kate made an effort to inject her expressions with more animation, more admiration than she felt. This woman could help her go places.

  A tug on the back of her dress diverted Kate’s attention. She turned to find a little girl no more than five looking up at her expectantly, holding a small notepad and a pen with a bright pink feather sticking out of the top. “Could I have your autograph?” she said timidly.

  “Kate, we have things to discuss.” Mrs. LeFevre’s irritation at such a minor interference seemed excessive. “Perhaps we could find a private room, Dr. Sumsion?”

  Kate took her lead from Mrs. LeFevre. Here was a woman she must impress. She looked down at the little girl. “Please, not now,” she said curtly.

  The little girl chewed on her index finger and looked at the ground. “But you are so pretty.”

  Kate glanced at an annoyed Mrs. LeFevre, and her own irritation grew. Couldn’t the girl understand how vital this conversation was to Kate’s future? “I’m right in the middle of something important. Go. Go find your mother.”

  The girl tried to hand her pen to Kate. She dropped it, and it made a small mark at the bottom of Kate’s flowing costume. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Now look what you’ve done,” Kate said, lifting the hem of her dress and examining the mark.

  Distressed, the little girl turned and shuffled quickly down the hall to a woman standing at the other end, only a few feet from Kate’s parents.

  Mrs. LeFevre shook her head and went right on talking.

  The little girl flew into her mother’s arms. She talked to her mother with great energy, and the mother attended her with a look of calm concern. She produced a tissue from her purse and wiped the little girl’s face.

  While Mrs. LeFevre prattled on about what education Kate would need before going to Europe, Kate could see Ada and her parents attentively listening to the little girl. After the child finished her story, Ada knelt beside her and put an arm around her. Kate’s sister-in-law reached into her basket, pulled out a shiny green apple, and handed it to the little girl. The girl smiled through her tears, took her mother’s hand, and walked away, cradling the apple in her arm.

  A small act of kindness from, in Kate’s view, an unlikely source.

  Why did Ada show kindness to a child and I did not?

  I’ve got a few things on my mind at the moment. Like the fact that I’ve lost my parents and my boyfriend. Like whether I am going to sing at the Met in five years.

  But those thoughts could not hold her. What was wrong with her that she could not muster charity for anyone but herself?

  Kate’s surroundings blurred, Mrs. LeFevre’s voice disappeared, and she heard her dear mamma’s voice reciting Kate’s favorite story. Not a typical bedtime tale, but one that Kate never tired of hearing.

  “An old teacher spent months tutoring his pupils on the life of the Lord Jesus. When it came time for the final exam, the students arrived at the schoolhouse only to be told that the place for the exam had changed. Each rushed to the new location, worried that they would not have time to finish the test.”

  “Where are you thinking of completing your Masters?” Mrs. LeFevre was saying. “I have four recommendations, all excellent schools.”

  “Along the way, each student passed a crying child who had fallen off her bicycle, a farmer whose load of hay had toppled onto the road, and an old woman who mumbled to herself in confusion. But the students did not stop to help, the final grade their only concern.”

  Looking down the hall, Kate scanned the faces of those she loved: Mamma and Dat, Maria, Alex, Carlos, even Ada. But nothing erased the memory of the little girl pleading for a small bit of attention.

  “When they reached the new location, the teacher greeted them in tears and informed them that they had all failed the class. Why? ‘Because,’ said the teacher, ‘although you know many interesting facts about the Master, you do not know the Master until you live His teachings.’”

  The force of the blow hit her like a ten-foot wall of water. From the outside looking in, it was a seemingly trivial interaction with a child she didn’t know. But to Kate, it was a pivotal moment. How far she had fallen!

  Not caring what Mrs. LeFevre thought, Kate took a few steps away from both ladies and stared in the direction the little girl had gone. She had sunk lower than she ever thought possible—not because of Jared’s death, not because Nathaniel had cast her aside, but because she had hurt another human being. She had forgotten the Master.

  The tears flowed. She covered her face in her hands, but even that wasn’t enough to stifle the sobs that came from the deepest part of her being.

  Mrs. LeFevre stopped droning and said something to Dr. Sumsion.

  “Kate.” Dr. Sumsion placed a firm hand on her back. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Dr. Sumsion, I’m…sorry. I need…to…step out for a minute.”

  Kate did not wait to gain anyone’s approval. She bolted for the nearest exit. The sobbing spasms refused to subside.

  “But, Kate, curtain is in fifteen minutes.”

  Kate found the stairs and ran to the bottom floor into a deserted commons area and plopped herself on a sofa.

  In the oppressive silence, self-condemnation piled upon her. How pitiful was her knowledge of the Savior. How feeble her faith. In her anguish, she had forgotten everything she had ever been taught, everything she’d ever believed. Her mind flew back to her first buggy ride with Nathaniel. Thinking of him made her catch her breath as she tried to remember what he had told her.

  “Because God loves us more than we can possibly comprehend, He pushes and crushes us to stretch our faith beyond what we can see. If the way were easy, how could we grow into who He wants us to be? How could our faith become unshakable?”

  When she closed her eyes, she could almost hear him speaking to her. “Your heart is ready for God when you are in your darkest hour.”

  What did she truly believe about following the Master? About giving her heart to the Lord?

  The warmth of recollection spread through her as her mind flew to the day of the buggy accident. Her circumstances had taken a decided turn for the worse, but nothing could ever invalidate what she felt that day when everything became so clear to her.

  Still the tears flowed. Bowing her head, she prayed with more fervor than she ever had before. “Dear Father, I am grateful for this dark hour, for now I am ready for Thee to change my heart.”

  “Did your grandma die?”

  Kate blinked back her tears. The little girl, with apple still in hand, sat next to her, swinging her legs from side to side and looking with great concern at Kate’s tearstained face. Kate looked around. The girl’s mother stood in the doorway watching them, not inclined to interrupt.

  “My grandma died, and Mommy cried and cried.” The girl reached up and patted Kate on the cheek. “Did your grandma die too?”

  Kate did her best to dry her eyes.

  “Here,” said the little girl, and she popped off the sofa and ran to the nearest tissue box. In a blur of blue ruffles, she returned with three tissues for Kate.

  “Thank you,” Kate said. She blew her nose and dabbed her eyes while the little girl sat patiently next to her.

  “When Grandma died, we all sang a song. When I sang it, Mommy felt better. Do you want me to sing it to you?”

  Kate nodded.

  The precocious little girl slipped off the sofa and stood facing her audience of one. “‘Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side.’” Her angelic voice rang through the empty commons area.

  Kate felt her whole body go weak as the little girl sang several lines. Had she been standing, she would have crumpled to the ground.

  “‘Be still, my soul; thy God doth undertake to guide t
he future as He has the past. Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake; all now mysterious shall be bright at last. Be still, my soul; the waves and winds still know His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.’”

  Disregarding the water gushing from her eyes, Kate tenderly took the girl by the hand. “Can I sing the next verse with you?”

  The girl nodded.

  In spite of her irregular breathing, Kate found her voice. “‘Be still, my soul, though dearest friends depart, and all is darkened in the vale of tears; then shalt thou better know His love, His heart, who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears. Be still, my soul; thy Jesus can repay from His own fullness all He takes away.’”

  The little girl stopped singing altogether after the third stanza, her gaze frozen on Kate. “I saw you in the play last night,” she said. “You are the best singer ever.”

  The girl’s mother ventured near them. “I usually wouldn’t bring a five-year-old to an opera,” she said. “But my little sister is in the chorus and Haley begged me to come. I can’t believe how still she sat through the entire performance.” She walked over and patted Haley’s head. “She was so sad when your character died. That’s all she could talk about all day today. I brought her tonight so she would know you were really okay.”

  “Are you okay?” Haley asked.

  “Yes,” Kate said, with more conviction than she had felt in months. She squeezed Haley’s hand. “I am okay.”

  Haley smiled.

  “Thank you for your song,” Kate said.

  “You’re welcome.” Haley beamed. “I want to be a opera singer when I grow up.”

  Kate looked up at Haley’s mother. “I am sorry about the autograph.” She patted Haley’s hand.

  Haley ran her hand along the exquisite fabric of Kate’s dress. “That’s okay. Mommy said you were nervous for your show.”

  Kate held out her hand. “Can I give you that autograph now?”