by Irene Hannon
“Mom! You look great!”
One yea, one nay. But Kristen’s enthusiastic expression more than countered Margaret’s dour demeanor.
“Don’t you think that hairstyle is a little young for you?” Margaret gave Karen a critical once-over.
“She is young.” Val dropped her purse on the counter.
Kristen limped over to inspect Karen up close, blessedly more mobile in her new, smaller walking cast. “I love how you brought out the red in your hair!”
“Auburn,” Val corrected.
Margaret squinted at Karen. “Did you color your hair?”
“What shade of lipstick is that?” Kristen inspected her mouth.
“Desert rose.” Val crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter.
“It’s perfect! Why didn’t you do this ages ago, Mom?”
“Because she was sensible before.” Margaret sent a pointed glance toward her younger daughter.
“Before what?”
At Val’s too-innocent question, Margaret glared at her. “You haven’t been the best influence, you know. Karen used to be levelheaded. She respected her elders. She cooked decent food. She wasn’t vain and didn’t see any need to dye her hair or wear makeup.”
“I could leave.”
As mother and daughter faced off, Karen jumped back into the fray. No point letting this escalate. “No one wants you to leave, Val. And it was my choice to do this, Mom. It’s no big deal. Kristen, did you and your grandmother have lunch?”
“If you could call it that.” Margaret sniffed in disdain.
“Val left an awesome bean sprout salad.” Kristen went to retrieve her backpack. “You have to get the recipe.”
“I’ll do that. Are you ready to go home?”
“Yes.” She started toward the door, but at a raised brow from Karen she sighed and retraced her steps, planting a brief kiss on Margaret’s forehead. “Bye, Grandma.”
“Good-bye, Kristen. I’ll see you at church Sunday, won’t I? You don’t want to disappoint God.”
Kristen rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Good. You’ll pick me up as usual, Karen?”
“Of course.” Karen gave Margaret a brief peck on the cheek.
“I thought I’d better check. Things seem to be changing around here.”
“Yeah. Isn’t it great?” Val winked at Karen.
Ushering Kristen toward the door, Karen whispered to Val as she passed. “Good luck.”
“No worries.”
The breezy response didn’t surprise her. Val had her act together. She knew how to cope with Margaret—and with everything else.
And one of these days, if she kept working at it, Karen might be as much in control of her life as Val was.
Her life was out of control.
Running her fingers through her damp hair, Val checked the clock on the nightstand as she paced. If she could hang on three more hours, it would be light again. Things never seemed as bad when the sun was shining.
When exhaustion at last turned her legs to rubber, she sank onto the window seat. She could blame her insomnia on the decrepit air-conditioning system struggling to cool the brick bungalow, but why kid herself when she knew the real cause—the familiar nightmares that had returned with a vengeance since her trip to the river last Sunday.
Val leaned back against the wall and massaged the bridge of her nose. If only there was someone she could talk to. Someone who could listen without judgment and offer guidance.
But she’d shared her secret once, long ago. With one person. And that mistake had led to a far bigger one—and to rejection. She wasn’t going to take that chance again.
Sweat beaded on her brow, and she swiped it off. Too bad she didn’t have Karen’s faith. Or her sister’s relationship with God. Then she could ask the Almighty for assistance. But she didn’t—and she couldn’t. Why should he come to the aid of someone who’d rejected him long ago?
She pulled up her legs and rested her chin on her knees. At least her mother had stopped badgering her about going to church with them. They’d fought that battle years ago, and it was one of the few times she’d prevailed. Thankfully, Margaret’s attempts since her return had been halfhearted at best. Poor Kristen, however, was getting the full guilt treatment, based on the exchange today.
Funny thing about that, though. She almost wished someone would nudge her back. Not that she expected to discover an answer to her dilemma written in the clouds afterward, or get some bolt-of-lightning revelation. But other people found comfort in their faith. Maybe she just hadn’t tried hard enough.
Then again, maybe it was too late.
With a sigh, Val swung her legs to the floor and rose. She had to get some sleep, even if that meant facing the nightmares that were more vivid than ever, thanks to her visit to the river. Nightmares she suspected would get even worse if she visited the other places on her list.
No. Not if. When.
Because deep inside, she knew she’d never attain the peace she sought until she did.
And one day soon, she’d find a way to dig deep and summon up the courage to take the next step.
Karen grabbed her purse and music folder and stuck her head into the living room. Kristen was slouched on the couch, staring at the TV. As usual.
“I’ll be home by nine. Sooner, if choir practice ends earlier.”
“Okay.”
At her daughter’s dejected tone, she hesitated. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. I guess.”
Not convincing.
She moved closer. “You seem kind of down.”
“I’m bored.”
“Why don’t you call Erin and get together with her?”
“The gang went to the water park.”
“Oh.” Water activities would be out until Kristen’s walking cast came off in three weeks. “Couldn’t you have gone along and visited?”
Kristen gave her a “get real” look. “They’ll be in the water. Who would I visit with?”
“Maybe Gary would have kept you company.” While she didn’t much care for the long-haired kid Kristen had taken a fancy to, he’d be safe in a group setting. And it was better than the one-on-one dating Kristen kept pushing her to approve.
“I haven’t talked to Gary for a while.” Kristen’s jaw quivered, and she averted her face.
Ah. A pothole on the rocky road of teenage romance.
Karen walked all the way in and perched on the edge of the sofa. “What happened?”
“How should I know? I’ve been sidelined with this stupid leg all summer. I guess he found someone else to do stuff with.”
“Or he might be busy. He has a summer job, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, but he’s got plenty of free time. Erin says she’s seen him bumming around with Paula.”
Another woman.
Even worse.
Karen thought about telling her daughter she’d get over her current heartthrob, that there were other fish in the sea, that someone better would come along who would be more loyal. But those platitudes wouldn’t mitigate teen angst.
She leaned down and kissed the top of Kristen’s head. “Always remember I love you.”
“I’m glad someone does.”
The tears in her daughter’s voice tightened her throat. It might not be the most Christian thought, but she hoped Gary found out what it felt like to be dumped too. Soon.
“Would you like me to stay home with you tonight?”
“No. That’s okay. I’m going to watch a movie.”
“If I get back early enough, would you like to run down to Mr. Frank’s?”
“I guess.”
Not good. If a trip to the popular frozen custard stand didn’t raise Kristen’s spirits, she was in serious doldrums.
After giving her daughter’s arm one more encouraging squeeze, Karen continued toward the front door. She wasn’t going to renege on her choir obligation, but she’d make it a point to get back in time for an
outing with her daughter, even if she had to leave early. No hardship there, considering Scott Walker’s attitude problem.
She exited, pulling the door closed behind her, and walked toward her car. If things didn’t improve with the choir soon, people were going to start dropping out and . . .
“Hello, Karen.”
She pulled up short at the greeting, hand flying to her chest. “Michael! You startled me. What are you doing here?”
“Kristen called and said she’d like to see more of me. I decided to pay her a surprise visit. Is she home?” He stuck his hands in his pockets, the move calling attention to the weary droop of his shoulders. There were also faint shadows under his eyes, and fine lines had appeared on his forehead.
For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed old.
“She’s inside watching a movie. And your timing is impeccable. She’s in a funk and feeling neglected. The broken leg is keeping her from hanging out with her friends, and I think her boyfriend dumped her. Your visit will cheer her up.”
He gave a distracted nod, but his focus remained on her. “Have you lost weight?”
“Some.”
“And you did something different with your hair. I like it.”
“Thanks.” Much to her disgust, his compliment pleased her.
“Well . . . I guess I’ll see what Kristen is up to.”
“And I’m late for choir practice.”
Karen started toward the car, sorry now she’d left it parked in front of the garage instead of pulling in after work. He followed, reaching down to open the door for her. She slid in, and after he shut it he leaned on the roof and gazed down at her with the intimate look that had turned her insides to jelly during their courting days.
“You really do look good, you know.”
At his husky tone, she blushed—like in the old days.
Oh, for goodness’ sake.
How sad was that?
This man had cheated on her. Dumped her for a newer model. How could she still be susceptible to his flattery?
She jammed the key in the ignition and looked away. “I’m late, Michael.”
“Okay.” He took his time removing his arm from the roof. “See you later.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she put her sunglasses on and backed the car out of the driveway. She would not look back.
Yet much to her disgust, she found herself glancing in the rearview mirror as she pulled away. Michael was still standing there, hands in his pockets, the familiar stance bringing back a rush of memories. He’d always waited like that after she left his apartment during their dating days, watching until she was out of sight. And just before she turned the corner, she’d flick her lights. One. Two. Three. I. Love. You.
Her hand was actually moving toward the light control when she caught herself and snatched it back.
No way.
Those days were gone. Forever. She was over Michael. Whatever love they’d once shared had died long ago.
He’d moved on.
And so had she.
Ten minutes later, when she arrived a bit tardy at choir practice, Scott was in the midst of berating the basses for a missed note.
“No, no, no! I’ve played this twice already. It’s not that hard. Try it again.”
She slipped into her seat and sent a sympathetic glance toward the three members of the congregation who constituted the bass section. Only one of them read music. The other two learned by repetition, and Marilyn had always been happy to pound out their line over and over again. Scott, on the other hand, expected them to pick it up after a couple of run-throughs. It was obvious he wasn’t used to dealing with amateurs.
The basses made one more dismal attempt.
Scott glared at them. “Okay. We don’t have any more time to waste on this. Work on it on your own. I’m moving on to the alto line.”
He played through it once. “Okay, let’s try it.” He started to play again. Several measures in, after Teresa Ramirez went up a note instead of down, Scott stopped and rubbed his temples.
“I hope I don’t need to tell you that you weren’t even close.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “Let’s try it again.”
They did. Several times, with Scott stopping often to correct missed notes—and leaving the altos as upset as the basses.
“All right, let’s see if the sopranos can do any better. Since you have the melody line, this should be simple.”
He played through it once, then they joined in. It was an unfamiliar piece, with an odd key change halfway through, and Karen did her best. But the other sopranos were struggling too, and their rendition was far from perfect. The arrangement was much too advanced and complicated for a small, amateur church choir.
As the rehearsal progressed, the skin tightened over Scott’s cheekbones, and the tension in the room grew thick as the humidity of a Missouri August. The muscles in Karen’s stomach tightened, just as they had whenever Michael had gotten angry at her or berated her for one of her many shortcomings.
“Okay, let’s try and put this together.” Shoulders stiff, Scott launched into the introduction.
The choir made a valiant effort, but the piece sounded terrible, even to Karen’s untrained ears. The altos kept going flat, and the basses wandered all over the scale, totally lost. The tenors and sopranos managed to hit a fair number of the notes, but not enough to salvage the song.
Halfway through, Scott stopped playing and stood. “It would be a travesty to bestow the term ‘music’ on what you all are doing. I don’t know how you can call yourselves a choir. Let’s start with the basses.”
As Scott ripped their performance apart, something inside of Karen snapped. She’d had her fill of disapproval and sarcasm from Michael, was tired of it from her mother, and up to her ears in it from Kristen. She’d suffered through that kind of abuse for years, and she wasn’t going to take it anymore. She would not sit here passively and let an arrogant jerk rebuke her for doing the best she could, as a volunteer, in an activity that had once given her great pleasure.
Lifting her jaw, she gathered up her things, stood, and made her way to the end of the aisle. Scott stopped speaking midsentence, and silence fell over the room. She could feel fourteen pairs of eyes boring into her back as she walked toward the exit; apparently everyone was as surprised by her show of assertiveness as she was.
But even though her hand was shaking when she reached for the door handle, she didn’t pause. She pulled it open, stepped through, and let it shut behind her.
And this time, she didn’t look back.
10
“Scott? Is that you?”
As he shut the front door behind him, Scott lifted a trembling hand to his forehead and kneaded his temples. “Yeah.”
Dorothy stepped into the living room, took one look at him, and closed the distance between them in three long strides. “What happened? You look terrible!”
“Choir practice was a disaster.”
She took his arm and led him to the sofa, pressing him down. “Where’s your medicine?”
“In the bathroom.”
She disappeared down the hall, returning a minute later with two capsules and a glass of water. Scott downed them in one gulp, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch.
After taking the glass from his hand, Dorothy sat in a chair beside him. “It must be a bad one.”
“Yeah. It came on right after rehearsal started.”
“Crummy timing.”
“No kidding. And listening to a bunch of off-key amateurs didn’t help.”
“They do their best.”
“It’s not good enough.”
“They try hard, though. I know you’re used to working with professionals, but most of the choir members are there because they like to sing, not because they’re Metropolitan Opera caliber. If your standards are too high and you get too upset with them, people won’t enjoy the experience anymore and they’ll drop out.”
“I’m f
inding that out. I think I lost one tonight.”
“What happened?”
“I was trying to teach a new piece, and I got a little . . . upset. My head was pounding, and we were getting nowhere with the music. I guess I was too hard on them. Hard enough that one of the choir members got up and walked out.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know. A woman. One of the sopranos.”
“Older or younger?”
Although he tried to conjure up an image, details of her appearance eluded him. No surprise there. He’d never bothered to focus on any of the faces. “Younger, I guess. Shoulder-length reddish-brown hair.”
“That had to be Karen. But walking out—that doesn’t sound like her. She’s usually not a wave maker.”
“Like I said, I guess I came on a little too strong.”
“You must have, if Karen walked out.”
“I ought to quit. This isn’t going to work.”
A beat of silence passed before his mother responded. “We need a music director.”
“I don’t think I’m the right person for the job.”
“Okay.” She leaned back in her chair. “What will you do instead?”
“Maybe I’ll just veg.”
“You’ve been doing that for two months. You need to start thinking about your future.”
“I don’t have a future.” His response came out flat. Hopeless. The way he felt.
“That’s nonsense.” For the first time since he’d come home, Dorothy’s eyes flared with anger. “You do have a future. It may not be the future you planned, but you do have one. It’s up to you to find it—and to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
She leaned forward, her posture intent. “Lots of people face tremendous challenges. Lots of people see their lives turned upside down. Remember that student I mentioned, Steven Ramsey? He was a promising football star until an accident at practice a few months ago left him a paraplegic. Now there’s a young man who has to rethink his entire life. Not just his career, but his everyday life. Next to him, your injuries are minor. You can still get out of bed. You can still eat and drive and go to the bathroom by yourself. He has to relearn how to do all those things.”