Down from the Cross

by Joyce Livingston

  He stopped walking, grabbed her by the shoulders, and with a deep frown, spun her around to face him. “Look, let’s get something straight right now. Yes, you are right about me wanting to give a stellar performance, as you called it. That has been my creed and my goal since the first concert I ever gave—to give my audiences my very best, and I have always done that. Even on nights when I was so sick I could barely hold up my head. If I were singing Down from the Cross for an audience of one, I would still give it my very best. That is me, Jane. That is what I do. The performance I give for your church will be the best performance I am capable of giving— regardless of who may be in the audience.”

  She felt awful. How dare she question his motives, especially after he’d been concerned about her and her church’s problems enough to step in and help, taking away from the valuable time he’d set aside to come to Rhode Island and learn a new opera? She lifted her tear-filled gaze to his. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Keene. My stupid comment was way out of line. I had no business questioning your motives. Can you forgive me?”

  Hoping he understood, she felt a great sense of relief when his intense grasp on her shoulders began to relax. Even in the dimly lit parking lot, she could see her words had hurt him. God, why do I barge ahead like that? Speak without thinking? I only hope Keene can forgive me. I hope You can forgive me!

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, still peering into her eyes. “I think I deserved that. I have made some pretty crummy remarks about your God and Christianity. No wonder you doubted me.”

  “Regardless, I had no right to question your dedication to your profession. I knew—”

  He raised his hand to silence her. Then without a word, he gently traced her lips with his fingertip. “Forget about it, okay?”

  “But, Keene, you’ve—”

  Suddenly she felt his lips on hers, and she froze, not sure how she should react. Keene Moray was holding her in his arms, kissing her. What should she do?

  He backed away slightly then rested his forehead against hers. “I–I couldn’t help myself,” he murmured as he continued to hold her in his arms. “You looked so kissable.”

  Jane stood motionless, afraid to breathe or even bat her eyelids.

  “You’re not mad at me for kissing you, are you?” he asked in a whisper.

  “N–no,” she finally managed to whimper.

  “Would you get mad if I kissed you again?”

  Her heart banged against her chest so fiercely she felt sure he would notice. “No.”

  His lips touched hers again, and she thought she would die of happiness right there in the church parking lot. The moment was wonderful. Spectacular! And she never wanted it to end. Without meaning for them to, her arms wrapped themselves about his neck, and her fingers twined themselves through the slight curls at his nape. Though the pleasant smell of his aftershave made her woozy, she reveled in it.

  “Whew,” he said, finally releasing her. “I’d better let you get home. It’s later than I realized.” He reached out his hand.

  Confused, Jane stared at it, caught up in the moment, his kisses still fresh on her lips.

  “Your keys,” he said with an impish grin.

  “Oh!” She yanked them from her pocket and watched while he opened her door.

  “I’ve really enjoyed this evening,” he told her after she climbed in and rolled her window down.

  She struggled to find her voice. “Me, too.”

  “I’m glad you talked me into this.” He gave her a teasing smile. “See you in the morning.”

  Still having trouble finding words, she simply nodded. Keene gave her a slight wave and headed toward his car.

  Jane’s fingers rose to her lips as she watched him crawl into the BMW and start its engine. “I think I’m in love!” she nearly shouted, remembering the sweet touch of his lips on hers.

  Be careful, My child. Be very careful, a still small voice whispered from deep within her heart.

  Again, on Friday, Keene spent most of the day in his bedroom, the faint sounds of Down from the Cross filtering out from the crack beneath his door. Though neither mentioned their impromptu kisses, their relationship had changed. Jane couldn’t exactly put her finger on it, but Keene’s smile radiated tenderness, and his voice sounded a little softer. Several times during the day when they would pass in the hall or at lunch, he would slip an arm about her waist and pull her to him.

  She even noticed her own response to him had changed. She no longer thought of him as her boss or the famous opera singer, but as… What was he to her? She was not quite sure. However, she knew her feelings toward him had changed drastically in the past twenty-four hours. Her every thought now centered on him. Her actions centered on him, too. She wanted to please him in every way. She also noted how much more protective she had become of him. No more did she pass phone calls to him that she thought he might not want. She screened them closely as if she were the FBI. No one could get to him without satisfying her that the call was important. I am being ridiculous, she told herself when she hung up from a very heated discussion with a fan who insisted on speaking with Keene. Who do I think I am anyway? I am certain he got along just fine before I came along!

  The next call came from his agent, Brian Totten. She put the call through immediately and went back to work filing some of the new music he had ordered. But suddenly, even with the door closed to Keene’s room, she could hear him shouting at Brian. She couldn’t make out the words, but obviously Keene was upset about something.

  Five minutes later, he stormed into the office. “I can’t believe the gall of that man!”

  Jane spun her chair around to face him. “Is… is there a problem?”

  He towered over her, his hands on his hips, his eyes blazing.

  “Yes, there’s a problem. He is having a fit because I agreed to do this for your church. Not because he’s afraid of me taking the time away from my preparation for next year’s season, but because he’s worried about getting his commission! Can you believe that? With all the money I’ve paid him over the years!”

  She rose and placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, Keene. I never meant to cause trouble between you and Brian.”

  He shook his head as if trying to shake off his negative feelings, then wrapped his arms about her and pulled her close, nestling his chin in her hair. “You haven’t caused any problems, Jane. Brian and I have a round like this a couple of times every year. But what really ticks me off is the trouble the union is giving me.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Is there a chance you won’t be—”

  “No, don’t even think it. I will work things out with them. One way or another, I’ll handle it.” He tilted her face up to his, his frown replaced by a smile. “You’ve changed my life, Jane. I cannot tell you how much I enjoy being around you. You are a breath of fresh air. My life was pretty routine before I met you.”

  “And I’ve messed up that routine?”

  “Oh, yeah! Big-time, and I’m loving every minute of it.”

  He gazed into her face, and the tenderness she saw there touched her in a way no man had ever touched her before, sparking an entirely new set of feelings.

  “I–I think I could fall in love with you.” His words were just a feathery whisper, and she wasn’t even sure she had heard them correctly. Surely Keene Moray could not be saying these words to her. Plain little Jane? That is what her father used to call her, and she had felt like plain little Jane all her life.

  Be careful, My child. The words coming from the deep recesses of her heart frightened her and made her pull away from him, though she wanted so much to declare her love for him, too. A love she could no longer deny. She took another step backward, pasting on a conciliatory smile. “I–I think I’d better go. I promised Mom I’d be home early, and… and… I–I have laundry to do.”

  He reached for her, but she sidestepped him, picking up her purse and car keys from the desk. “See you at nine?”

  He let out a deep sigh and pul
led his hand away. “Yes, I’ll be at the church at nine. I could pick you up.”

  Shaking her head, she backed out the office door. “Thank you, but I’ll drive myself.”

  Keene waited until the door closed behind her then rammed a fist into the palm of his other hand. You bonehead! What did you think you were doing? You just told that woman you thought you could fall in love with her! Whatever possessed you to do such a stupid thing? Jane is not like the other women you have known. Any other woman would have been bowing at your feet if you had mentioned the “L” word to them. Now you have probably scared her off.

  After plopping himself down in her desk chair, he tilted it back and linked his fingers behind his head. What is the matter with me? The love word? Since I met Jane, I have even considered the “M” word!

  The phone rang, and he gazed at it for a long time before finally picking up the receiver.

  “Hey, buddy, what do you mean, hanging up on me?” the voice asked.

  Keene sat up straight, angrily anchoring his elbows on the desktop. “Look, Brian, get this straight! I am only going to tell you one more time. I am going to sing in that church’s Easter program, and nothing you or the union can say or do is going to stop me.”

  “But you know the rules. I hope you’ve made that church aware of what it’s going to cost them to hire you.”

  Keene narrowed his eyes, wishing Brian were there so the man could see the dead seriousness on his face. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got that covered. They already know the amount, and they’ve agreed to pay it.”

  “Hey, you’re smarter than I thought you were.”

  “But I also told them if the offerings they take every night don’t measure up to the agreed-upon amount—”

  “Not measure up? What about my—”

  “Cool it, Brian. Let me finish. I told them they could go ahead and write out a check for the full amount and I would, in turn, make out a check to them for the difference and give it back to them, and they could consider it my gift to the church.”

  Brian laughed into the phone. “Wahoo! Good thinking, Keene. They get their little Easter pageant, I get my full commission, and you get a nice write-off! Good job, old buddy.”

  “Yeah, that should make everybody happy, and my tax man will love the idea.”

  “But what’s with you, man? You don’t go to church. I’ve heard you tell people you don’t even believe in God. Why this sudden change and devotion to some church?”

  Jane’s adorable image immediately popped into Keene’s mind. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

  The next morning at exactly 8:45, the BMW moved into a parking space in the Randlewood Church parking lot.

  Jane was standing by the piano going over one of her solos when Keene entered the sanctuary. She stopped cold when she saw him, not yet feeling comfortable about singing in front of him. Not only that, her head was still spinning, almost as much as her heart, from the kisses in the parking lot the night before.

  “Places, everyone.” Ben tapped his pen against the microphone. “Let’s get started.” He turned to Keene, who was standing in the middle of the platform as if unsure where he should sit. “For now, why don’t you have a seat there at the end of the fourth row, in the baritone section?”

  Keene nodded and moved into the chair, shaking hands with those seated around him and giving them a friendly smile.

  “Let’s start on page thirty-nine,” Ben told them, flipping the pages in his book. He motioned to Jane. “Your first solo is on the next page, Jane. Why don’t you come on up to the microphone so you’ll be ready?”

  She cast a quick glance Keene’s way as she moved into the aisle. Although she was still nervous about singing in front of him, her thoughts were on the kisses they’d shared, and her knees began to wobble. Finally, she moved into position, and the music started. She tried to concentrate, to become Mary as Ben had suggested, but with Keene so near she found it hard to do. Lord, please settle my mind. I want to sing for You. Keep my mind focused on You alone, and may the words Keene hears as we sing Down from the Cross cause him to be aware of his sins and make him realize his need for You in his life.

  A calmness washed over her as she gazed at the words in the book in front of her, and suddenly she was Mary. The emotions Mary must have felt became her emotions. All thoughts of Keene disappeared, and the only face before her became the face of Jesus. When it came her time to sing, she opened her mouth and sang for her Lord.

  Keene stared at her, amazed at the quality of her lovely alto voice and the way in which she sang. Each note was crystal clear, her phrasing perfect. He listened carefully, knowing each word was coming from her heart. How many times had he tried to do the same thing? Sing an opera or a concert from the depths of his heart? And failed? Oh, perhaps the audience had not known it, but he had. It had been hard to muster up feelings for some of the roles he had sung. Meaningless stories and plots. Some of them silly and amazingly dull. Yet he had given them his all, but it had been with great effort. With Jane, there seemed to be no effort at all. Her singing came out that way because her emotions were sincere, pure, and he envied her. She was singing to God. The God she knew—and he didn’t.

  At noon, the entire group enjoyed the light lunch the women had provided, took a fifteen-minute break, and then went back to work. By four o’clock, they reached the place in the book that called for Keene’s first solo.

  “We’ll skip this part until later,” Ben said, motioning toward Keene.

  Keene rose quickly. “I’m ready. There’s no need to wait.”

  Ben motioned toward the microphone. “Great. Let’s do it.”

  The pianist began, the choir did a short lead-in, and everyone waited breathlessly to hear the magnificent voice of Keene Moray.

  six

  Keene took a deep breath and, with a smile he couldn’t contain, began to sing in a high-pitched, falsetto soprano voice.

  Every choir member’s eyes bugged out, and they stopped singing and stared at him. Even the pianist stopped playing. Other than Keene’s ridiculously funny voice still singing, the sanctuary was engulfed in silence.

  When it became apparent he could stand it no longer, he gave a booming laugh that echoed throughout the big room. “It’s a joke, folks!” he said, a giant grin plastered across his face. “I wanted to break some of the tenseness I felt. Look”— he held out his arm and pinched it—“I’m human. Please don’t treat me like some freak. I am one of you now. We’re in this together.”

  Somewhere in the top row, someone began to applaud, and soon the entire choir broke out with laughter and applause.

  “He’s really funny!” Karen said to Jane. “You must have a blast working for him.”

  Jane gazed at Keene, her heart filled with admiration and pangs of love. “Yeah, a blast,” she said, grinning, once again remembering how wonderful it felt to be held in his arms. “You can’t imagine what a blast.”

  Ben gave the pianist her cue to start again, and this time the magnificent voice of Keene Moray sang the words with feeling and emotion. By the time he finished his part, tears flowed from the eyes of almost everyone in the choir loft, including Ben Kennard.

  Karen dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “How can he sing those words that way, with so much feeling—words right from the scripture—and not believe in God?”

  “That’s what I want to know.” Speak to his heart, God. As he memorizes each song, may his mind be filled with Your Word. I pray, through hearing and singing this music, Keene will turn to You. And, Lord Jesus, keep my witness pure. You know the temptations that face me every day I work with him. I–I love this man.

  “Got any plans for this evening?” Keene asked Jane as they walked to their cars. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “I’d love to go to dinner with you—on one condition.”

  He tilted his head with a slight frown. “Oh, and what might that be?”

  “T
hat you’ll go to church with me in the morning.”

  He tapped his finger on his lips thoughtfully. “I was planning to spend all day working on Down from the Cross.”

  “We can go to the early service at 8:30.”

  He locked his arm in hers. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  She smiled up at him, trying desperately to keep from looking at his lips. “Take it or leave it.”

  He pulled her toward her car. “I’ll take it. Wear something nice. I am taking you to Capriccio’s on Pine Street. The food is exceptional, the service is unparalleled, and the atmosphere is very romantic. You will go crazy over their seafood. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  She gave him a coy smile. “Seven will be fine. That way you can get a good night’s sleep and make it to the early service.”

  Keene had not prepared himself for the lovely creature who greeted him at the door when he arrived at seven. Wearing a simple black sleeveless dress, a string of pearls about her slender neck, and a pair of high-heeled black strappy sandals that made her legs look fantastic, the woman standing before him, with her shoulder-length dark hair swept up into an elegant French roll, bore very little resemblance to the woman he’d left only a few hours ago. That woman had been wearing a ponytail, jeans, and a sweatshirt. This woman was a real knockout, and she smelled nice, too.

  “I hope I look all right.” She did a graceful pirouette.

  Words failed him. He responded with a low, drawn-out whistle. “All right? You’re gorgeous!”

  “I–I could change. I have a blue suit—”

  He latched on to her arm. “No! You’re perfect the way you are. I just wish I’d brought a can of mace.”

  “Mace? Why would you need that?”

  He tugged her close to him, wrapped his arm about her waist, and whispered in a low, husky voice, “To keep all the men at the restaurant away from you.”