Though she’d worked several days at the bakery now, Tangie still felt a sense of disconnect between herself and Penny. Seemed like the older woman kept her at arm’s length. Not that Tangie blamed her. Penny had plenty of other things on her mind right now.
In the meantime, Tangie had a couple of questions, from one female to another. “Penny, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, kid.” She continued icing the éclairs, never looking up. Still, Tangie knew she was paying attention.
“Have you ever been in love?”
Penny snorted, nearly dropping her icing bag. “Only ten or twenty times.”
“Really?” Tangie looked at her, stunned. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Penny nodded, then went right back to work. “Remember, I told you those church folks didn’t know what to make of me. I was a single mom with two boys and no husband in sight. I guess I was so desperate to find a father for them that I checked under every bush.”
“Including the church.”
Penny shrugged. “Maybe my motives for attending weren’t exactly pure. But, hey, I thought a good Christian man would be just the ticket for my kids, ya know? Most of the ones I knew were pretty nice.”
“But, you never found one?”
“Oh, I found a few.” She winked. “Problem was, a couple were already involved with other women. And I, um. . .well, I broke up a couple of relationships.”
“Ah.” Tangie pondered those words. “But you never married any of the men you fell for?”
“No.” Penny’s expression changed. “Never found one that really suited me or my boys.”
“How did Gregg end up working in a church, then?” Tangie began to stack fresh bear claws on the empty tray, more than a little curious about the answer to this question.
Penny closed the glass case and shrugged. “There was one man, a youth pastor, who took an interest in the boys when they were in their teens. Offered to drive them to church. Even paid for Gregg to have voice lessons. He was a great guy. And I seem to recall a female choir teacher at school who spent a little extra time with him. She was a churchgoer. So, I guess he got sucked in that way.”
“Ah.” So not everyone had rejected them, then. After a moment’s pause, Tangie couldn’t hold back one particular question. “Has, um. . .has Gregg mentioned anything to you about the play we’re doing with the kids?”
“Heavens, yes.” Penny laughed as she began to roll out dough for cinnamon rolls. “I’ve heard all about it. He says you wrote it, too. Is that right?”
“Yeah.”
“He told me about the singing rabbits and the little sheep. That part sounded cute. And then there was something about a chicken hatching out of an egg. Did he get that part right?”
“He did.” Tangie realized just how silly the whole thing sounded, when described in only a sentence or two. Still, the idea worked for the kids, even if the grown-ups couldn’t quite figure it out.
“Well, all I know is, it’s a kids’ play and I’m no kid.” Penny went off on a tangent, going on and on about singing rabbits and dancing chickens. Tangie couldn’t tell if she was being made fun of, or if Penny really found the whole thing entertaining.
“I want you to make me a promise.” Tangie stopped her work for a moment. She took Penny’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t let anyone else’s opinions sway you. Promise me you’ll come see the play for yourself. The performance is in a couple of weeks. You decide if it’s too much fluff or if it’s something the kids can relate to.”
“You’re asking me to take sides?”
“No. I really want to know what you think. Besides, Gregg is working hard at this and I know he’d love it if you came.”
Penny shook her head. “He knows me better than that. I haven’t graced the doors of a church in years.”
“Well, this Easter might just be a good time to give it a try. What have you got to lose, anyway?”
Penny snorted, then turned back to her work, muttering under her breath. Still, Tangie would not be swayed. Somehow, knowing that this woman—this wonderful, witty woman—was Gregg’s mom, made her want to pray all the harder. . .not just for her healing, but for her very soul.
***
On Monday afternoon, just as Gregg closed the door to his office, his cell phone rang. He looked down at the caller ID and smiled. “Hey, Mom,” he answered. “What’s up?”
“Pull out your rabbit ears, son. Mama’s coming to church.”
“W–what?” Maybe he was hearing things. “What did you say?”
“Said I’m coming to church. Oh, don’t get all worked up. I’m not coming this Sunday or even next. But you give me the date for that rabbit and chicken show you and Tangie are directing and I’ll be there for that.”
“Mom, I really wish you’d come on a regular Sunday first. I think your opinion of me will be much higher.”
“Are you saying the play’s going to be awful?” she asked.
“Well, I can’t imagine it will be awful,” he said. “Not with Tangie behind the wheel. But let’s just say we’re off to an interesting start.”
“Interesting is good.” She let out a yelp, followed by, “Oops! Gotta go. Burned the oatmeal raisin cookies.”
As she disappeared from the line, Gregg pondered his mother’s words: “Pull out your rabbit ears, son. Mama’s coming to church.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. After all these years, the Lord had finally figured out a way to get his mom back in church. And to think. . .she was coming because of a goofy play about singing rabbits. Gregg shook his head, and then laughed. In fact, he laughed so loud—and so long—that the door to Dave’s office opened.
“Everything okay out here?” Dave gave him a curious look.
“Yes, sorry.” Gregg chuckled. “It’s just. . .the strangest thing has happened. I think God has cracked open my mom’s shell.” Images of the four-foot Easter egg floated through his mind, and Gregg laughed again.
“Oh?” Dave gave him a curious look.
“Let’s just say God is using Tangie in more ways than we thought. She’s somehow managed to convince my mom to come to church to see the play.”
“Oh, really?” Dave’s face lit into a smile and he whacked Gregg on the back. “Well, why didn’t you say so? That’s awesome news, man.”
“Yes, awesome.” Just as quickly, the laughter stopped.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” He nodded toward Dave’s office. “Is it okay if I come in?”
“Of course. I’m done with my work for the day.”
Gregg’s emotions took a bit of a turn.
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Dave took a seat behind his desk.
“Ever since my mom was diagnosed, I’ve been so worried that she might. . .” He didn’t say the word for fear it might somehow make it true.
“You’re afraid she might not make it.” Dave leaned his elbows on the desk and gazed at Gregg. “Is that it?”
“Yes. And I think Josh must be worried about that, too. That’s why he came back to Harmony, I think. But neither of us has said it out loud. Till now.”
“It’s good to get it off your chest,” Dave said. “Helps you see what you’re really dealing with.”
“I’ve been trying to figure out a way to witness to her for weeks now,” Gregg admitted. “And every attempt has failed. I couldn’t get that woman through the doors of a church if my life depended on it. And now Tangie’s done it with a goofy kids’ musical.”
“First of all, you’ve been living your life in front of your mom. That’s the best witness of all. Second, we can never predict what might—or might not—be a good avenue to get someone in church. That’s why we try so many different things. Different things appeal to different people.”
“Right.” Gregg sighed.
Dave paused a moment, rolling a pen around the desk with his index finger. Finally he looked up. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“You somehow feel responsible for what’s happened to your mom?”
“Responsible? For her cancer?” Gregg tugged at his collar, unhappy with the turn this conversation had taken.
“Well, not just the cancer. I mean the way her life has turned out. The fact that she’s in her early sixties and living alone.”
“Ah.” Gregg didn’t answer for a minute. He needed time to think about what Dave had said. “I guess I do in some ways. I was always the man of the house, you know?”
“Right.”
“Had to practically raise Josh. There was no dad around to do it. And I always took care of everything for my mom. I thought I could save the day. You know?”
“I know. I’m an oldest son, too.”
“As a kid, I prayed every day for a dad. And when Mom married Steve—my brother’s father—I thought I’d finally found one. But then. . .well, anyway, that didn’t pan out. But I guess there’s some truth to the idea that I somehow feel responsible for my mom. That’s why this cancer thing has been so hard.”
“You can’t fix it.”
“R–right.” Gregg sucked in a breath, willing the lump in his throat to dissolve. “I, um, I want to see her healed. Whole. And in church, going to those crazy teas and socials and stuff with the other ladies. She’s all alone over there at that shop and I feel so. . .”
“Responsible.”
“Yeah. That’s why I spend so much time with her and make sure I call her every day.”
“Gregg, it’s natural for the oldest son to feel responsible, especially one who had to be both father and son at the same time. But I want to free you up by telling you something. Only God can be God.”
“W–what?”
“Only God can be God. You can’t fill His shoes. They’re too big. You’ve taken on the responsibility of looking after your mom, and that’s a good thing. Especially during the chemo. But she’s a feisty one. Independent.”
“Always has been.”
“Yes. And you can’t change her now any more than you could when you were little, no matter how hard you try.”
“I know.” Gregg slumped down in his chair, thinking about Dave’s words. “But that’s never stopped me from trying.”
“God has a plan, and it’s bigger than anything you could concoct. He sees the whole stage of our lives. Knows whether we’re going to move upstage or down. Knows if the next song is going to be a heart-wrenching melody or a song and dance number. So, go ahead and pray for her. Spend time with her. Make sure her needs are met. But don’t overstep your bounds, and don’t take on guilt that isn’t yours. You were never intended to save your mother’s soul.”
“W–what?”
“You heard me. You can plant the seeds. You’ve already done it, in fact. You’ve lived your life in front of her, expressed your faith and not held anything back. She’s been watching those things, I guarantee you. But, Gregg, it’s not your fault she hasn’t come to know the Lord yet.”
At this point, the dam broke. In one sentence, Dave had freed him from the guilt he’d carried for years. He’d never admitted it to anyone but himself, of course, but that’s exactly what he’d believed. . .that he had somehow been responsible, even for his mother’s very soul.
Dave rose from his chair and came to Gregg’s side of the desk. He laid his hand on his shoulder and spoke in a gentler voice than before. “Witnessing to someone isn’t like writing one of your songs.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you write a song, you control where the notes go. Whether the melody moves up or down. When you witness to someone, it’s like throwing a few notes out into space and then handing the melody off to that person and to God. It’s up to them how the song turns out. Not you.”
Gregg thought about Dave’s words as he left the office. In fact, he couldn’t get them off of his mind for the rest of the evening. By the time he rolled into bed that night, he’d made up his mind to let the Lord write the song that was his mother’s life.
SEVENTEEN
The following Saturday, rehearsals for the play moved forward. This time, things were even more chaotic than before. For one thing, Josh didn’t show up. Tangie asked Gregg about him about five minutes after two, the projected start time.
“Have you heard from your brother?”
Gregg shook his head. “I know he’s been staying at Mom’s place, but I don’t have a clue why he’s not here.”
“Ah. I’ll try your mom’s phone then.” Tangie punched in the number, but there was no answer. She turned back to Gregg with a sigh. “Do you think we made a mistake casting him in such a large part? What if he doesn’t show?”
“Hmm. I don’t have a clue. But I’ll try him on his cell.” Gregg did just that, but Josh didn’t answer. Looked like Tangie would have to read the lines of the Good Shepherd from off-stage. Not that it really mattered. Nothing today seemed to be going according to plan. A couple of the kids were missing, due to the stomach flu. And the ones who attended were rowdier than usual. Take Cody, for instance. Tangie hardly knew what to do with him. As the rehearsal blazed forward, he ran from one side of the stage to the other, making airplane noises, disrupting the work at hand.
Finally, Tangie snapped. “Cody, I’m trying to block this scene, but it’s difficult with you moving all over the stage.”
That stopped him in his tracks. He froze like a statue, then turned to her in slow motion, an inquisitive look on his face. “What does block mean?”
“To block a scene means I tell the players where to stand and where to move. When I say move downstage left, you go here.” She pointed. “And when I say, “Move to center stage, you go here.” She pointed to the center of the stage and the kids responded with a few “Ah’s” and “Oh’s.”
Oh, if only she could block the kids in real life. Tell them where and when to move. Then they would surely be more obedient. Unfortunately, the characters in her play were better behaved than the kids performing the parts. Over that, she had no control.
Control. Hmm. Seemed she’d lost it completely over the past couple of weeks. And with the Easter production just a month away, Tangie felt like throwing in the towel. But every time she reached that point, the Lord whispered a few words of encouragement in her ear, usually through someone like Gran-Gran or Gregg. Then determination would settle in once again. Tangie would stick with this, no matter what.
Thankfully, there was one piece of good news. A humbled Margaret had come to her during the second rehearsal, asking if she could still play the role of the narrator. Tangie wasn’t sure what was behind Margaret’s change of heart, but had smiled and responded with, “Of course, honey.”
Looked like the Lord was up to something in the child’s life. Could it be the result of Tangie’s and Gregg’s prayers, perhaps? Surely faith really did move mountains.
She watched from the edge of the stage as Margaret delivered each line with rehearsed perfection. Then Tangie turned to Annabelle, listening carefully as the youngster sang her first solo. The precious little girl, though shy, proved to be a great lead character, in spite of her inexperience.
About halfway into the final scene, Gregg’s phone rang. “Sorry,” he called out. He sprinted to the far side of the stage. From where she stood, Tangie could see him talking to someone, with a look of concern in his eyes. Glancing at her watch, she took note of the time. Three fifteen. The parents would be arriving soon, and she needed to update them on costume requirements. Still, she couldn’t focus on that right now. No, she couldn’t see past Gregg’s wrinkled brow to think of anything else. Something had happened, but what?
When he ended the call, he took a few steps her way and whispered in her ear. “That was Josh. He’s taken Mom to the hospital in Trenton. She’s had a really bad reaction to her latest round of chemo.”
“Oh, no.”
Up on the stage, the kids began to recite lines on top of each other, most of them standing in the wrong places or facing the wrong way. Tangi
e would have to correct them later. Right now she needed to hear the rest of the story about Penny.
Gregg sighed. “She’s been having trouble keeping anything down since her last treatment. She’s a little dehydrated, is all. They’ve got her hooked up to IVs.”
“Do you need to go? I can handle the kids.”
“No, Josh said they’re just keeping her on fluids another hour or so and then releasing her. He, um. . .he asked if I would read his lines for him.” Gregg smiled. “Actually, he told me how much he missed being with the kids and how much he’s looking forward to being in the show.”
“Aw, I’m so glad. Maybe God is working on him.”
“No doubt. He’s also using this situation with Mom—and the play—to accomplish something pretty amazing.”
“Sounds like it.” Tangie turned her attention back to the kids, who were now scattered every which way across the stage. “Boys and girls, we need to run though that scene again,” she called out. “I noticed that some of you weren’t standing in the right places and a few of you need to work on your projection skills. Give it your best. Okay?”
They hollered out a resounding, “Okay!” and she began again. Still, as the rehearsal plowed forward, Tangie’s thoughts were a hundred miles away.
With a heavy heart, she did her best to focus on the kids.
***
After the children departed, Gregg and Tangie spent some time cleaning up the mess the kids had left behind in the sanctuary. Then she headed to the office to use the copier. Gregg retreated to the choir room, taking a seat at the piano. Before touching his fingers to the keys, he made another quick call to Josh, and was grateful to hear his mom was now on her way home from the hospital.
Gregg’s fingers pressed down on the ivory keys, and he felt instant relief. As the melody to one of his most recent compositions poured out of his fingertips, he reflected on the conversation he’d had with Dave about his mother less than a week ago. “Lord, I don’t understand.” He pounded out a few more notes. “Why don’t you just reach down and touch her? Heal her? Why does she have to go through all of this?”
Love at Center Stage: Three Theatrical Love Stories Page 12