by K Broas
Chris smiled lovingly at Hope and replied with his gentle eyes sparkling, “Well all of them of course.”
As Hope stepped through the heavy wooden doors, she saw the entire town ready to rejoice. The thought crossed her mind that every time she decided to stay home, the rest of the town worshiped without her. It must have been obvious to everyone that she wasn’t there. The old religious guilt she once felt as a child crept back into her consciousness.
“Hope! It’s so wonderful you’ve made it,” Stephanie exclaimed grabbing Hope’s arm. “Come here. There are some people I’d like to you to meet. As Hope walked through the crowded sanctuary, she saw many familiar faces beaming with happiness. Stephanie was tugging her arm through the sea of people as Hope greeted people she knew along the way. Many people were stopping to say “hi” as Hope walked among the sea of faithful.
“Hope, this is my husband John. He’s the minister of music here,” Stephanie said proudly.
“Hello Hope. It feels like I know you from how much Steph talks about you,” John said firmly shaking Hope’s hand. “It’s wonderful to finally have a face with the name.”
“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too John. Stephanie has been so kind to me, and it’s a pleasure to meet her other half,” Hope said shyly. “By the way, I love your glasses.”
John awkwardly smiled, brushed back his shaggy black hair and self-consciously replied, “Thanks Hope.”
Stephanie leaned in and gave her husband a peck on the cheek. “We’ll be sitting right here in the front,” Stephanie told John. “Good luck honey.”
Hope and Stephanie sat down in the old creaky pew awaiting the service to begin. At the last moment, Hope saw Chris and Grace in the front row on the other side.
“Hey guys, over here. Come sit with us,” Hope said in a surprisingly loud voice.
Moments later Chris and Grace joined Hope and Stephanie. A hush suddenly overcame the audience as John, Stephanie’s husband, walked out onto the stage. Joining him were three other men and one beautiful girl. John started to play his guitar. The entire band followed perfectly as the young woman joined in song.
When the group got to the chorus, John raised his voice for the first time. It was harsh and nasally, and difficult to listen to. It seemed so out of place among the other perfect sounds. It seemed rushed and inpatient, struggling to find the tempo as the band continued to play their arrangement in perfection. And then suddenly it clicked, John’s voice spoke to her directly. Pleading and pulling, it pierced through her soul. Hope was awestruck by the beauty she was hearing. Like a force of nature, the voice soared in isolation. The pitch and the tones of his voice flowed out into the crowd, a perfect balance of truth and personal honesty. Hope was no longer watching a performance and became part of the authentic story. Suddenly, Hope felt the spirit in the room descend and enter her soul. She was filled completely with faith.
The band continued playing, singing song after song, while the audience rejoiced together. Even after two hours, the music remained strong. When one person would get tired, another from the audience would take their place. The only constant was John and his voice. As the night wound down, it was clear that every musician in the gathering was spent. John continued to push on with energy sourced from a higher, mysterious place.
“Anyone else have anything to share? You can feel the presence with us tonight,” John insisted with a raspy strained voice from hours of worship. “Now is the time… don’t be shy.”
Chris exhausted, with fingers torn and almost bleeding from all the songs he had played, shook his head and put his arm around Grace. Hope then realized her hand had somehow raised signaling to John there would be another song.
She didn’t know what compelled her, but somewhere in the depths of her being, she felt the need to join in worship. Grace, Stephanie and Chris all looked at Hope, surprised she was ready to take the stage. They had never heard her sing let alone play in all the times they had practiced songs at home. Hope sheepishly walked to the stage as the crowd silenced in anticipation, waiting to see what was to come.
“Can I borrow your guitar?” Hope asked John in a soft, hushed voice.
“You sure can dear. Go get ‘em,” John said gleefully.
Hope cleared her throat and spoke loud enough for the room to hear her. “Well, I don’t know any gospel songs, but this is one my dad used to sing to me,” Hope said while chuckling uncomfortably. “It’s called ‘Romans 10:9’, by The Mountain Goats.”
Hope began to play the intro chords which sounded dull and out of key. She quickly tuned the guitar down a half step until the progression sounded right. With the guitar ringing true, she again began to play the cheerful arrangement. Her small, fragile voice began to sing the joyous lyrics, which echoed lightly around the room, with the bouncy, optimistic song.
Everyone in the sanctuary was focused on Hope as she worked John’s guitar like a true artist. It was clear she had been hiding her talents as her voice moved their spirits gently. Her voice was sweet like honey adding beauty to the mood in the room. She continued singing her hopeful lyrics.
After Hope was done, she stood from the stool in the center of the stage, put down the wooden instrument, and walked quietly back to her seat. Her majestic voice still hung heavily in the room filling the audience with pride for their humble town. Words could not describe what they had seen. Unsure how to accept the song and its obscure lyrics, the people in the sanctuary sat in their pews, reserved. Chris was the first to respond. He stood to his feet, still in awe, and began to clap for Hope and the song he had never heard before. The crowd, aroused by Chris’s acceptance of the song and Hope’s powerful voice, exploded in applause. Hope’s conviction had driven the group past the ambiguous song and awoken their spirit.
“I never knew you could sing like that!” Grace said beaming from ear to ear. “That was amazing.”
John walked over to Hope as the people continued to clap and laugh, amazed and surprised. “Now that’s how it done,” John said to Stephanie as he put his lanky arm around Hope’s neck.
Hope smiled, slightly embarrassed, and let the praise warm her soul. Grace and Stephanie laughed in agreement that something special had just taken place.
“We have got to hear more,” Grace said grabbing Hope’s hands. “Your voice! It’s so beautiful. It was really, I mean - it was like an angel! – really, truly divine.”
After the group quieted down, John stood and gave a final prayer releasing the congregation for the night. Chris, Grace, and Hope walked home continuing to talk about the performance. They were blown away not only by Hope’s performance, but also the fact that they never knew about her talent. Neither the cold of the December night nor the blanket of stars above could break Chris and Grace from their excitement. Something was different for Hope though. Although she relished all the attention, she couldn’t help but feel small amidst the sky full of starlight. She walked through the dark astounded by the heavens above.
When they finally reached home, the three sat for a late snack. “Where did you learn to play like that Hope?” Chris asked with genuine interest. “Do you even own a guitar?”
Grace walked over grabbing a couple more slices of apple and said, “Yeah that was a total surprise.”
Hope thought back to her time in New Providence and how she lost her father’s guitar. She decided to keep that part of her life concealed. “No, I don’t have a guitar anymore. It was stolen back in St. Louis. I learned to play with my dad before he died. I guess I took to it and been playing ever since,” Hope explained. “To tell you the truth though, I don’t know many songs – maybe thirty or so if I sat down and tried remembering them all.”
Chris stared directly at Hope and said, “I just can’t get over it. That was amazing. What was the name of that band? The Mountain Men?”
Hope chuckled softly to herself and said, “No… the Goats, they’re called The Mountain Goats.”
Life went on as normal for the next couple of days
as Hope prepared for her departure. The train would be rolling into town soon, and she needed to be ready. Before she left, she needed to tie up her loose ends. Hope had agreed to alter little Billy’s costume for the pageant, so she had one final task yet to complete. On her last day in Chapel Hill Hope met with Billy.
“Hey guy, are you ready for the show? I’ve been watching, and you’re looking good up there,” Hope said tenderly to her young friend.
“Yeah, I think I’ll be ready. I just get so nervous up there,” Billy said as Hope cinched the flowing material behind his back.
“How does that feel?” Hope said as she scribbled down the measurements.
“That feels better, but the sleeves are still too long,” Billy replied.
“You’re going to look so handsome up there, I promise you that,” Hope added. “So, are your parents planning for the big night? I bet they’re excited.”
Billy smiled with pride filling his small body and said, “Yeah, my mom and dad will be there and my grandma and grandpa. They’re helping me with my lines every night. I just hope I don’t screw up.”
Hope smiled at the cuteness of the child’s insecurity knowing how it felt to be on stage. “You have nothing to worry about. You’ll do great,” Hope said as she finished hemming up the sleeves. “There, how does that feel?”
Billy stretched his arms out, checking the length. As the small boy stood with his tiny arms outstretched, Hope felt the urge to pick him up and give him a big hug. She fought back the memory of her own son and continued to work. “How’s the length feel?” Hope asked enjoying her time with the little boy.
“It feels good, but sometimes it gets caught under my feet,” little Billy explained trying to reproduce the problem by walking back and forth.
“Well I think I can fix that,” Hope replied quickly hemming the bottom. “Is that better?”
Billy walked back and forth testing the costume as the bottom brushed right above his fragile ankles. “Perfect, that feels perfect,” Billy said.
“Can you sit with us during the pageant? My mom and dad would love to meet you,” Billy asked innocently.
Hope’s heart sunk as she realized he didn’t understand she was leaving in the morning. “Oh, I’m sorry Billy. I need to head out tomorrow. The train is coming in and I need to catch it while it’s here,” Hope said feeling guilty.
Billy’s small eyes opened widely, filled with fright. “You can’t leave, what if my costume tears?” Billy exclaimed. “Plus, I always look for you in rehearsal when I get nervous. It helps calm me down. Who’s going to help me now? Please don’t go. I need you to be there.”
Hope felt terrible about leaving the child. She knew she couldn’t abandon him when he needed her so much. In that moment, with the pleading child in front of her, Hope decided to stay. She knew she could always catch the next train. At this point in her life, she needed to stay and finish what she had started.
“Don’t worry little one. I wouldn’t miss your performance for anything,” promised Hope.
As Christmas approached, the town did its best to find the holiday spirit. It had become difficult because the town elders had determined the food supplies would be short again this year. Everyone was put on strict rations since the hunting and fishing had not been fruitful despite their best effort during their previous excursions. All they had were jars and jars of preserved jams and pickled vegetables. Even with the ample supply of shiny transparent jars, it wasn’t enough without the supplements from wild game and fish. The people of Chapel Hill worried not. They had faith in their creator, and that would overcome any possible challenge.
The next several weeks passed by in a blur of happiness, laughter, and hunger. The Christmas pageant was a hit. Everyone was in attendance, and the children performed like professionals. Billy performed perfectly. With Hope in attendance, he stood proud and nailed every one of his lines with precision. Hope’s costume design was also discussed. It was seen as a great success, adding so much to the impressive production. As time slipped by and Christmas faded to New Years, Hope settled into her natural role as a seamstress.
Even though life had returned to normal, the tiny town’s struggles for food did not change. Two more excursions for food were attempted without success. The preserved foods, in tiny glass jars, were taking the hit because they were the only source of nourishment in town. It didn’t take long before these too were almost depleted.
“I heard we’re down to two weeks of food in storage,” Chris said calmly. “We’ve got to schedule another fishing trip.”
Grace looked at her strong, thin man who was showing the signs of hunger. “I don’t know Chris, it takes so much energy. If all we’re getting is a couple small fish here and there, it doesn’t make sense,” Grace said noticing Chris’s hollowed out cheeks. “I think the hunt is where we’ll find what we need.”
Despite the disastrous situation taking form, Chris and Grace were unshaken. They knew their needs would be met somehow, someway. They just had to remain strong and keep their faith. Hope was more skeptical. She was concerned having seen many good situations go very wrong.
“I’m surprised the elders aren’t trying to secure supplies from the surrounding areas. I wonder if other places are also struggling with hunger. Maybe we should jump on the train next week and see if the next town over has any food to spare,” Hope suggested optimistically. “I know it’s a long shot, but it’s better than waiting for a miracle only to starve later.”
“I understand your fear, Hope,” Grace said. “We’re going to be fine. This is a great opportunity to give thanks and praise for how wonderful things have been so far. Sure we’re hungry now, but think of all the times of plenty.”
Chris caressed the back of his wife’s neck tenderly and added, “In times like these, we need to relinquish our sad attempts to control life and just trust. We must trust knowing there’s a grand design for everything.”
Hope struggled to reconcile their blind faith, feeling the danger swirling around the situation as she ignored the painful spasms deep in her belly.
The following week Hope was working again with Stephanie. The craftsmanship she demonstrated during the pageant earned her a permanent spot mending the town’s tattered clothing. Stephanie was also a skilled seamstress working primarily from an antique sewing machine. There was never a shortage of clothes to mend. Most of the garments worn around town were second hand and nearly falling apart. The two had worked closely over the past couple months and were becoming close friends.
“Do you know if there’s another hunting trip going out soon?” Hope asked Stephanie.
“They just got back from a trip on Monday. Six rabbits and a couple of birds are all they got,” Stephanie replied. “What we need to do is start farming again. Can you imagine how good fresh milk and cheese would be?”
Hope thought about the creamy texture of dairy and fantasized about a big, hot meal. “Yes that would be good,” Hope said swallowing a large mouthful of drool.
“I can’t believe we’ve got four months before we can start planting again. We’ve struggled like this before but never quite this bad,” Stephanie said with a tinge of worry. “Everything will pan out in the end. Something will come along.”
“Did you hear about the Peterson’s boy? That boy from the play, Billy I think?” Stephanie asked as she powered her old Singer sewing machine with her foot.
Hope drifted a moment when hearing Billy’s name. “Yeah Billy, the one re-sized right before the Christmas play? What about him?” she said.
“Well, he’s not doing too well. I spoke to his mother yesterday, and Billy has something. Nobody knows quite what it is. The elders think it’s related to the hunger. With so many mouths to feed in that family, I don’t know what they’re going to do,” Stephanie said matter-of-factly. “The rations are the rations. Each family has tough choices on how to divide up their share.”
Hope was shocked by what she was hearing. “So what are the elders doing
about it? Are they giving the Peterson’s a larger share? The boy has to eat,” Hope said frantically.
“A larger ration from where? We all have to eat?” Stephanie said, surprised by Hope’s disgusted expression.
“Well we can’t look the other way and let a child starve to death. What are they thinking?” Hope yelled, angry at the elders, the town, and the desperate situation.
Stephanie remained calm and said, “Relax, nobody’s going to starve. You have to have faith. We always get exactly what we need. It’s just not always when we think we need it. Trust me, Billy will be fine.”
“And what if it’s not fine? What if Billy does die? How can the town deal with that on their conscience?” Hope asked nastily. “We should be doing everything we can to find food… right now!”
“But that’s the point. How strong would our faith be if at the first sign of trouble we abandoned our beliefs?” Stephanie said calmly. “If something does happen to poor Billy, it would be a tragedy for sure, but it would still be part of the larger design. We must wait, wait and see, looking for the miracle that will surely come.”
Hope became angry. She finished up her last seam and left the church annoyed and frightened for the helpless boy. As she walked home, she could feel in her gut what was going to happen to the faithful people of Chapel Hill. She couldn’t believe they were going to just let it happen. She was so angry at their blind stupidity and inaction. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she didn’t have the strength to see more tragedy in her life. She made the decision that when the train came back again, she’d leave this loving town.
When Hope arrived back at the tiny home, Chris and Grace were already there. Hope wasted no time announcing her intention to leave. She explained how dear they had all become to her, but also that she didn’t share their faith that things would get better. She felt horrible in her inability to believe but just couldn’t sit by and watch the events she was sure were coming. Chris and Grace tried everything possible to get her to change her mind, but Hope could not be swayed. She had decided what her next steps would be, and they all began with heading east.