Tommy pushed his tongue through the gap between his teeth while he thought about it. Then he nodded, swished his paintbrush in the water jar to clean it, and painted a circle with red splotches rolling down the grass.
“Thanks.” Sonia mouthed the word to Ty. A glance at the clock confirmed that class time was drawing to a close. The crush of departing parents and children and the influx of her adult class occupied the next few minutes.
Sonia gave the adult class a study in perspective, providing them with an enlarged photograph of the town park with the pagoda at the center. While they worked, she reviewed the sketchbooks the students had turned in.
She left Ty’s for last, curious as to what she’d find. She suspected he was better than he claimed. Had he focused on the wetlands or something else?
The first page featured a reasonable facsimile of the Limon pond—not bad. The next page surprised her: a sketch of her profile. He had added a red tie holding her hair back as well as splashes of color in her skirt to the otherwise black-and-white sketch. In spite of the problems with proportion and other inadequacies, he had captured her attitude of intense joy. Her hand trembled. She felt like he had exposed her soul.
Sonia circled the room one by one, making suggestions on the day’s assignment and discussing their sketchbooks. She didn’t get to Ty before the time expired and apologized.
“Maybe we can discuss it over lunch?”
Sonia clamped her jaw together. Did he think she would drop everything when he called? “I can’t do lunch today.” She felt a twinge of guilt. He paid for her class and deserved her input. “Can you stay a few minutes after everyone leaves?”
A hint of disappointment flickered in Ty’s eyes and then disappeared. “Sure.” A few people lingered, anxious for a final word with the teacher. Eventually the door shut behind Hugh Classen and his high school students, and only she and Ty remained.
Sonia came to Ty’s easel. Hmm, here she saw evidence that he couldn’t draw a straight line. The vanishing point of the pagoda had shifted slightly to one side, a skewed, almost astigmatic perspective.
Ty waited beside her, his arms folded across his chest. “Don’t sugarcoat it. It’s as crooked as a trapezoid.”
“Maybe you’ll start a new trend.” She retied her hair. “If I had to guess, I’d say it might be a problem with your vision.”
Ty’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve never needed glasses.”
She shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be much. But do you see how the center drifts left?” She traced where the lines faltered. “Maybe use a ruler and pencil to pinpoint the exact center next time. Try it before next week’s class, with a street or a field or Nel’s garden.”
“I can do that.” He pointed to the sketchbook she held in her hands. “What did you think of that?”
Heat bubbled into Sonia’s cheeks. “I was surprised to see myself.” She forced a laugh, a self-conscious sound. “I asked for landscapes, not portraits.”
“What can I say?” Ty shrugged, but his eyes twinkled. “You were the most interesting thing around.” His grin widened. “Didn’t you tell us to draw whatever sparked our interest?”
Be professional. “It does show more promise than your nature sketches. It definitely conveyed emotion.” Her cheeks flamed, but she persevered. “The use of red draws the eye in.”
“It’s impossible to picture you without color. Bright, vibrant, eye-catching colors—never pastels.” Ty pointed to her outfit, a henley shirt with a riot of fall leaves against a green and brown background, matched with russet-colored corduroy pants.
“Whereas you like to wear black.”
Ty wore a black cable-knit sweater with a gold chain dangling around his neck. “Yeah, me and black go way back.”
❧
Ty decided to change the subject before things got any deeper. “May I escort you to the Bible study group again tomorrow?” He held his breath. She had already refused his invitation to lunch.
She hesitated an extra beat before she answered. “Sure.” They worked their way around the room, putting away easels and the other supplies. “It’ll be a long day, since we’ll go straight from there to orchestra rehearsal.”
Ty had almost forgotten about the orchestra rehearsal. He shook his head and laughed. “My father wouldn’t believe it if he heard all about this. Me, at church from nine in the morning until nightfall.” He looked around, curious about Sonia’s progress, but didn’t spot anything. “Then again, there aren’t a lot of things to do in Ulysses on Sundays.”
“You make it sound like church is a chore.” Sonia washed a few dishes at the sink. “Are you a Christian?”
Of course Ty was a Christian. He believed there was a God, and he agreed with the principles Jesus taught. “Better than some, worse than others.” He found the broom and swept the floor.
With her back to him, Sonia dug beneath the sink for a dish rack. “God doesn’t grade on a curve. It’s a pass/fail system. Either you’re a Christian, or you’re not. Either you’ve accepted Jesus’ sacrifice for your sins, or you haven’t.”
“I never said I was perfect.” Ty swept the debris into a dustpan. “But I’m no Hitler either.”
“That doesn’t matter. Pass or fail. Me. Joe. Josh. Michelle. Even Osama bin Laden.” Sonia swung around to face him. “Even you. Jesus came into the world to redeem sinners from the penalty of their sins.”
Redemption. That sounded like the reason Ty had come out West. Could that redemption take a different form than his carefully laid plans?
Ty shook himself internally. It couldn’t be that easy. Not after what he had done.
Eight
Ty listened as the oboist played an A before tightening the first string. He lifted the violin in place and played a chord, grimacing at the disharmonies. He hadn’t played for so long that his instrument had gone seriously out of tune.
Around him his fellow musicians did the same. Instrumentalists ranged from a high school flutist to an octogenarian trumpeter who could still sound reveille. Ty relaxed. The magic elixir of music drew people of all different walks of life together. He felt more at home in a musical ensemble than anywhere else on earth.
Sonia watched from the sound booth, and he waved to her. An audience of one, and he was glad she was there.
Once he had tuned his violin, Ty spoke to Josh. “Say, can I have a few minutes at the end of rehearsal? There’s something I’d like to discuss with the group.”
“Of course. Remind me if I forget.” Josh dropped his gaze to the score in front of him and made a note.
The orchestra ran through the piece scheduled for next Sunday—a catchy tune Ty hadn’t heard before, perhaps one of the songs that brought the congregation to their feet during Sunday worship. The group had a pleasant if not robust sound, any missing instruments rounded out by keyboard synthesizers that could mimic almost anything.
The practice ended as they all did, with a call for prayer requests. Josh asked how Ty’s first week on the job had gone. Back home, no one would have bothered. Others reported on safe travel and cancer scares, troubled marriages and births of grandchildren. This group seemed to genuinely care for one another.
Max—who played an enthusiastic tambourine when called upon—led in a closing prayer. Josh motioned for the orchestra to remain in place. “Ty has something he wants to discuss with us.”
Ty stood. “After the computer died last week, I checked into options for getting it fixed.” Curious glances aimed his way. “No, I’m not a computer tech, but I do work with finances. So I checked the church budget. In addition to a new computer, I noticed a number of other projects: resurfacing the parking lot, upgrading the playground. I even saw a suggestion to open a free clinic once a month.”
Around him people exchanged uncertain glances.
“Look, I know times are tough. But I have an idea on a way to raise money.”
“We’ve always trusted God to provide. If we don’t get the money, I figure it’s not God�
��s will.” Max’s strong voice boomed from the percussion section.
Josh raised a cautionary finger. “Let’s hear him out, Max. After all, the youth group raises money for mission trips.”
Ty stroked his chin. “I know I haven’t been here long, but I do know something about music. And you guys—both the choir and the orchestra—are great.” The compliment hit home as people nodded their heads in agreement with him.
“I think if we’re willing to commit to extra rehearsals, we can put on a concert in time for Thanksgiving. Some church music, sure, but also some pop and some classical.” He flashed a smile. “We may even get some outside talent. My cousin Joe thinks he can get his friends who were with the Victory Singers to come.”
“A concert. You mean, like charge for tickets?”
Ty shrugged. “Call it a suggested donation.”
“Classical.” Josh looked thoughtful. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“I’m a big fan of Mozart. Anyone interested in A Little Night Music?”
After they dismissed, Sonia danced down the aisle in front of Ty. “What a great idea. Maybe I can create backdrops for the different sets. Make it a class project.”
“Whoa there, wait a minute.” Sonia’s imagination ran faster than he could keep up. “We’re talking about a lot of work to finish in just five weeks. We haven’t even decided on the music yet.” They’d scheduled the Ulysses Harvest Concert for the first Saturday in November. By then Ty hoped to know how much longer he needed to stay in Ulysses. Perhaps he could even head home.
His caution didn’t dampen Sonia’s enthusiasm. “Oh that doesn’t matter. If you can get the music ready, we can do our part.”
Oh yes, he needed to set a departure date, or else he might never escape the dark-haired beauty with sparkling eyes. “You must be feeling better about your work.”
The sparkle in her eyes caught fire. “I think this is just what I need to get my creative juices flowing. Thank you!” She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. Ty caught her face in his hands and turned it toward his. Time stopped as he gave her a chance to back away. Their lips brushed, and something inside Ty broke.
❧
Sonia relived the kiss a dozen, a hundred times. She couldn’t, mustn’t, allow herself to feel so strongly about a man who wasn’t a Christian. No more intimate dinners. No more shared rides, even to go to church. She must stay alone. . .aloof. . . . Why did that prospect leave her cold when nothing had really changed?
Nothing had changed except Ty’s presence in her life. Oh, God, help me and open his eyes.
Sonia kept her distance for two long weeks. When she saw Ty at class, she made sure she treated him like everyone else. At Sunday school the next day, she found a seat between two others so that Ty couldn’t take the place next to her. She stayed in the sound booth as Ty put away his violin and waited until he gave up and left, his shoulders slumped in disappointment.
Josh gave her the complete list of music for the concert, and Sonia planned the backdrops. Whenever she thought about Ty, which was only ten times a day, she threw herself into her work. The Limon watercolors flew from her brush, their joy and delicate beauty making a mockery of her heaviness of heart.
No, that wasn’t quite true, she decided as she added a dash of color to the coyote’s tail, the last watercolor she planned. Her work provided a refuge, a place she could experience joy and escape the disappointment about Ty. She allowed herself an ironic smile. Who would have expected one kind of heartache to ease another?
Friday night, Sonia fixed herself shrimp pasta in preparation for a solitary evening. Michelle had gone out with Joe, working on wedding plans. Sonia steeled herself against the loneliness that hammered her heart.
Halfway through the pasta bowl, the front doorbell rang. Ty stood outside, a dozen red roses in hand. “May I come in?”
Sonia worked her mouth, unable to find a reason to refuse. “I’ll join you on the porch. It’s too nice a night to stay inside.” Maybe if she stayed in full sight of the neighbors, she could keep an emotional distance from Ty. “I’ll be right out.” She accepted the roses with a smile, put them into a vase, and set it in the front window where he could see it. To dishonor his gift seemed churlish. She took a couple more bites of her pasta before pouring iced tea and arranging gingersnaps on a tray for both of them.
Ty lounged in a wicker chair. When he saw her, he stood and smiled. “Tea and gingersnaps. Yum.” He held the chair for her and then took the seat next to her.
They sat for a couple of minutes, silent except for the crunching of cookies. Ty ate two, wiped his mouth, and leaned forward. “Look, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’ve been avoiding me. What I want to know is, why?” Pain darkened his eyes. “I thought things were going well between us. Is it something I did?”
I haven’t been fair to him. Sonia agonized. Did she have enough strength to let him down gently? She wrapped her arms around her chest and rocked back and forth once. “No, it’s nothing you did. It’s something I did.” What could she say that wouldn’t sound holier-than-thou? “I made a mistake. I assumed you were a Christian, and I let things get too far.”
“We didn’t do anything wrong.” A puzzled look twisted Ty’s face. “It was just a kiss.”
Sonia shook her head. “No, that’s not it.” She took a deep breath and swallowed. “The Bible says Christians shouldn’t be yoked with unbelievers.” Tears jumped into her eyes. “I like you, Ty, I really do. But I have to obey God.”
Ty’s face cycled through a half dozen expressions. “You’re saying I’m not good enough for you.”
“No, it’s like I’ve tried to tell you. I’m not any better than you. Maybe worse, since I’ve hurt you and I never wanted to do that. I need Jesus as my Savior. But you. . .” A sob escaped her throat. “You don’t know that yet.”
Ty looked at her, an inscrutable expression on his face. “Maybe I do. More than you know.”
❧
Ty stared at his hands as the fading light cast his profile into long shadows down the length of the porch. Sonia allowed the silence between them to lengthen.
“It can’t be that easy.” Ty broke the silence. “Redemption. Restitution. Forgiveness. All for free. At no cost to me.” He shook his head. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
“Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not saying we won’t suffer consequences for the things we do here.” Her mouth twisted. “Like me hurting you, when you did nothing wrong. But the good news is that God wipes the slate clean when it comes to eternal matters. Life and death. Heaven and hell. And He will forgive anyone for anything when that person trusts Him.”
The need to relieve himself of his burden of guilt almost overwhelmed Ty. He took a gingersnap, broke it in half, and bit down on it. It tasted like straw in his mouth, and he coughed. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Can we get together tomorrow, after class? Please say yes.”
Sonia looked at him as if weighing his intentions. “Yes.”
They both stood, and Ty stepped off the porch.
“And Ty?”
He turned.
“I’ll be praying for you.”
Warmth flooded his heart. Maybe he’d get through this after all.
❧
Ty spent a lot of time finding a place to spend Saturday afternoon. When he unburdened his heart, he didn’t want anyone to overhear.
In the end, Max, a choir member who had become a good friend in the short time Ty had been attending the church, suggested the perfect location—the church library. With no activities scheduled and no one expected in the building, Ty knew he had found his confessional. Would Max still want to be his friend if he knew the truth? Ty couldn’t guess.
They stopped for hamburgers after class and took them to the church. Walking down the hall, they passed a poster that read The Truth Shall Set You Free with a reference from John. Ty hadn’t known that saying came from the Bible. Today he hoped to prove its val
idity.
Ty held the library door open for Sonia. He gestured to a grouping of armchairs clustered by tall windows and low bookshelves. When he shut the door behind him, he felt his last avenue of escape disappear.
“I have to say, I’ve never gone on a date in a church library before.” Sonia sank into the nearest chair.
Ty twisted his hands in his lap. “Well, I don’t know if this qualifies as a date. I need to talk with someone, and you’re it.”
She smiled, genuine openness lightening her features. “I’m listening.”
“I haven’t been entirely up-front with you. I’ve been to Colorado before.”
“I guessed as much.” Sonia’s answer surprised him. “But why the secrecy?” She leaned back, her hands on her knees.
So, she had guessed part of his secret. “My reasons for being here weren’t exactly honorable.” He felt in his pocket for a worry stone he used in times like this and rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface. “The truth is. . .” He paused. Once he said the words, he couldn’t stuff the rabbit back down the hole. He hedged. “Will you promise to keep what I say between us?”
“That depends.” Sonia crossed her legs. “But I won’t betray your confidence just for the fun of it.”
“That’s fair enough.” He stood abruptly and turned his back to her. “I hurt you the most of all, and I didn’t even know you. I didn’t think about the consequences of my actions, as you described so eloquently last night.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice strained against the dead air. When he turned, he saw the color in her cheeks had faded.
“I came to Colorado a few months ago to do some business with a man I met over the Internet. He was a criminal. A thief who specializes in stealing art.” He took a breath and added the rest before he lost his courage. “I paid him to rob Joe’s store.”
❧
Disbelief froze Sonia’s throat. In her worst flights of imagination, she had never guessed this. She had suspected Ty might have committed fraud at his father’s company. But he was behind the robbery? A squeak escaped her lips. “Why?”
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