How Sweet the Sound

by Jacquelin Thomas

  “It’s always a pleasure to help beautiful women,” he said, tipping his baseball cap with the insignia of Summerset Junior College on the bill.

  Grace, who had begun to think there was hope for Caleb, quickly adjusted her opinion. He couldn’t open his mouth without flirting.

  Turning away from the women, his searching gaze locked on her almost at once. With a wave, he started toward her. “Hi, Grace,” he greeted and pulled out a chair at the table for four. “Booths all taken?”

  Since she didn’t want to tell him that she had chosen a table because the booths somehow seemed too intimate, she answered by saying, “The light seems better here.”

  He glanced at the booth with the individual lights shining over the table, then back at her. There was no light over their table. “Whatever you say.”

  A waitress in jeans and a Western-style red shirt with black stitching approached their table with two plastic menus. “Good evening, folks. You gonna order off the menu or have the buffet?”

  “Just sweetened iced tea for me, please,” Grace said.

  Caleb paused in taking the menu. “You’re not eating?”

  “I’ve eaten.”

  “Give us a few minutes,” he told the waitress, then turned to pin her with his penetrating gaze. “How? Your last class is over at five-thirty.”

  That schedule again. “Do you keep up with all the teachers in your department?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “I try.”

  The answer should have pleased her that he took no more interest in her than in any of the other members of the faculty in his department. “You need not concern yourself with me.” She opened the black zip folder on the table. “Please order and while we’re waiting, we can go over the songs.”

  As if on cue, the waitress reappeared. “You ready?”

  “Two sweetened iced teas, Texas-size chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and whatever the vegetable of the day is with the salad bar.”

  The waitress grinned. “Got a good appetite, have you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I sure do.”

  Collecting the menu, the woman left with a smile.

  “If you’re finished, we can discuss the songs?” she said. Did he have to flirt with every female he met?

  Caleb frowned across the table at her. “What did I do now?”

  Grace realized she had done it again. Let Caleb get to her. She forced herself to relax. “I’ve just had a long day. Forgive me if I sounded curt.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “Do my ears deceive me or did you just apologize?”

  Since he was smiling and they did have to work together and they had yet to select the songs, she smiled in return. “I did.” She handed him her selections. “I think we should keep it to five numbers. Start out with a hymn like ‘Precious Lord’ and end with one of my favorites, ‘Blessed Assurance.’ The other three songs can be any of the old hymns. Once we decide, I can order the music if Alton doesn’t have it in stock.”

  Caleb leaned back in the wooden chair. “I suppose you want us to follow the music as written.”

  She couldn’t believe he understood. He’d been so adamant before about the type of music he wanted. “I went by Alton’s music store on my lunch break and purchased enough sheet music for Revelation to begin practice at least on the two songs I mentioned.”

  “Here’s your tea. Your food will be out in a bit.” The waitress set the oversize clear plastic glasses on the table then left.

  “Thank you,” Caleb and Grace murmured, but neither looked away from the other.

  “This is going to be so wonderful,” Grace said, excitement creeping into her voice. “I can feel it.”

  Caleb braced both arms on the table. “You actually want my students to learn new music and not do one song they’re familiar with?”

  Just because Caleb’s voice was quiet didn’t fool Grace. She straightened. “All of your students read music. They’d have to to be music majors.”

  “True, but I require that they fully learn each selection we perform,” he explained, then went on to say, “every member of Revelation is a full-time student with at least fifteen hours of credit. I can’t ask them to take that much time away from their studies.”

  Since Grace had two of those students and was aware of how much work she gave her students to do, she understood his concern. “Perhaps for this one time you could let them read the music and we could do one song they’re familiar with within our five.”

  “How magnanimous of you.”

  “Hot rolls and chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables.” The waitress set the platter in front of Caleb. The batter-fried meat nearly hung off the plate. “Yell if you need anything.”

  “Thanks,” Caleb said, then bowed his head to say grace. Finished, he picked up his flatware and began to eat.

  Grace watched him fork in three bites before her stomach reminded her that she’d eaten a candy bar for lunch because she had used her lunch break to buy the sheet music, music that might not be used. Hoping Caleb hadn’t heard her stomach growl, she forged ahead. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”

  His head lifted abruptly. The arched brow said he didn’t believe her. With a grunt, he cut into his steak.

  Grace licked her lips. He would have to be eating one of her favorites. “This gospel concert is for the glory of God and as such the music has to reflect dignity and decorum.”

  Up came his head again. “You show me in the Bible where it says that and I’ll say no more on the issue.”

  Grace blinked. “Well, it doesn’t actually say that, but it implies—”

  “Show me where it implies,” he told her.

  Once again she was stumped and from his direct gaze he knew it.

  “I’ll help you out, Grace. It says ‘Make a joyful noise unto the Lord.’”

  “Hip-hop and pop is not joyful unto the Lord,” she said, sure in that at least.

  “And how do you know what’s pleasing to Him?” Caleb asked. “There’s no one way to serve the Lord or please Him except through righteousness. Who are you to say there is only one right way to worship Him with our music?”

  Grace became aware of two things: the waitress was standing there and the people sitting at the table next to them were staring at them. Heat washed over her face. They’d all heard Caleb reprimand her.

  “I—I have to go.” She grabbed the case and stood.

  Caleb came to his feet as well, and reached for her. “Grace.”

  She stepped back. “Good night.” She didn’t run from the restaurant, but she wanted to.

  Caleb watched Grace hurry from the restaurant and had to fight the urge to go after her and apologize. He hadn’t meant to come down on her so hard. But he thought a great deal of his students and the hard work they did. He wanted her to understand what she was asking of them. She might love the Lord, but she was also rather rigid in her music.

  “If you need a shoulder to cry on, mine’s available,” the waitress said.

  Caleb looked at her and saw by her expression that she had been trying to tease him, not come on to him. “Thanks for the offer.” He took his seat and picked up his knife and fork.

  He had been busy with meetings or counseling with students all day and all he’d had was a quick cup of coffee and a soft drink. He was about to take a bite of meat when he recalled the growl of Grace’s stomach and her saying she had used her lunch break to buy the sheet music. Putting down the utensils, he picked up the music.

  No one had to tell him Grace was doing what she felt was right. She believed in her heart what she said. He felt just as strongly she was wrong. The joy, the inner peace and closeness he experienced when Revelation played could only come from a higher power. Perhaps he could use a little understanding himself.

  He motioned the waitress over. “Can I please have one of these to go with a garden salad?”

  The woman folded her arms and gave him a slow grin. “Trying to sof
ten her up with food, huh?”

  “It can’t hurt.”

  Chapter Five

  Grace was intentionally late to prayer service. She didn’t want her mother to see her until she was more composed. They always sat together. Her mother knew she was meeting Caleb and would immediately guess things hadn’t gone well and ask questions. Questions Grace didn’t want to answer.

  Waiting in the foyer with three other late arrivals, she tried to pay attention to Brother Samuel’s heartfelt prayer, but she was unable to push Caleb’s hurtful accusations from her mind. He had no right to say those things about her. He was just being his arrogant, dictatorial self. He refused to see that there should be a definite distinction between worldly-sounding music that had an emphasis on self and music in the church with an emphasis on God.

  The door to the sanctuary opened and Sister Mason bid them enter. Instead of going to the front, Grace slipped into a seat halfway down the aisle. Nodding to the people seated on the row with her, she opened her well-read Bible and prepared to be fed by the Word as Pastor French came to stand in front of the wooden podium.

  She tried to listen to his sermon, but her mind kept veering back to Caleb, the anger in his face and voice. No one had ever spoken to her that way. Everyone knew she loved the Lord and tried to live the kind of life where others would see that love. She volunteered with the young people. On the Sundays her choir didn’t sing, she worked in the church’s nursery. He had no right to say those things about her.

  “Please come to the altar.”

  Grace came out of her musing when the people next to her stood and realized Pastor French had given the altar call. Embarrassed to have missed his entire message, she quickly rose and joined her fellow parishioners.

  Head bowed, hands clasped as she kneeled at the altar, she asked for guidance and strength. God demanded order in all things. He would show her how to deal with Caleb. Feeling immensely better, she returned to her seat.

  Her conviction remained strong as prayer services closed…until people started congratulating her on the honor she had brought the church. She barely kept the smile on her face. Smiling proudly, her mother joined them.

  “Hi, Grace. You and Caleb must have gotten a lot done since you were late.”

  Her smile felt stiff as she tried to think of a way to answer without telling a lie. She was saved by an unexpected source.

  “They must have. Grace didn’t even get a chance to eat her supper.”

  Grace’s head whipped around to see Sister Johnson, a robust, friendly woman she had known and admired since her high school days. All Grace could think of was that someone from the church had overheard her conversation with Caleb. She tucked her head in shame…and then she saw the plastic bag the other woman held.

  Sister Johnson noticed the direction of Grace’s gaze. The older woman’s broad face widened in a grin. “I promised Professor Jackson I’d give this to you.”

  Grace still couldn’t take it all in. “Caleb left that for me?”

  She chuckled. “He sure did. Said he would have stayed, but he had another meeting at eight. He told me to make sure you got your food since you were getting music for the gospel musical during your lunch break.” She beamed at Grace. “Doesn’t surprise me none, I told him. You’ve always thought of others before you thought of yourself.”

  Grace felt like a fraud. She’d bought the music to circumvent anything Caleb might bring and he must know it.

  “He sounds like a wonderful man,” her mother said. “I’ve been praying about the musical. Why don’t you invite him for Sunday dinner?”

  Grace eyes widened even more. She wasn’t sure if her mother was just being friendly or trying to do a little matchmaking, but there were too many people standing around to let it go any further. “I’m sure Professor Jackson has other plans. I know I do.” She took her mother’s arm. “Good night, everyone. Come on, Mama, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “You’re the one who should be getting home.” Her mother steered Grace to her car. “You go on home, and eat every bite of whatever is in there.”

  Grace didn’t plan to eat any of the food, but it was a good excuse to leave. She kissed her mother on the cheek. “Good night, Mama. I’ll call tomorrow.”

  Opening the car door, she got in and drove home. In her kitchen, she sat the plastic bag on the yellow Formica counter. The savory aroma of the food drifted out, causing her stomach to growl. It wouldn’t hurt to see what was inside.

  She began pulling out the containers. Beneath the last one was a folded sheet of notebook paper.

  Please accept my apology. Only God knows what’s in our hearts. I hope you can forgive me and we can set up another meeting. I truly believe we’ve been given a unique and wonderful opportunity to minister to others through our music. I’m trusting in Him to lead us in the right direction.

  Caleb.

  The annoyance she had felt earlier faded. Caleb was right. The opportunity to spread the gospel was too important for either of them to let their personal feelings interfere. The next time they met, she’d do her best to remember their higher purpose and trust in Him that Caleb would be convicted to do the same.

  Now, the only remaining problem was to decide when and where to meet. She opened one of the boxes and munched on a cucumber from the salad. She certainly didn’t want it to be any place public. Just the thought of her embarrassing experience at the Sirloin Grill made her cringe. They both might want the same thing, but coming up with musical selections they both could agree on wasn’t going to be easy.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her of her pitiful lunch. Her gaze went again to the other two containers. It would be ridiculously immature not to eat the food when she was hungry. Besides, there had been times, not many, but those few had stuck with her, when she was growing up and her father had been out chasing his dream of becoming a star in the music industry and the family he’d left behind had fallen on lean times. Her mother had always said that God would make a way. And He always had.

  Grace had never understood why her mother hadn’t put her foot down and insisted her father stay home and take care of his responsibilities. Grace would never marry a man whom she couldn’t depend on and trust to put the needs of his family above his own. Lowell’s deceit had hurt her badly at the time, but she had accepted that it had been for the best.

  Not wanting to think about Lowell, she lifted the lid of the largest container. Her mouth watered at the sight of the golden-brown chicken-fried steak covered in cream gravy. Opening the package of plastic utensils, she began to eat. She didn’t stop until she had finished the steak, vegetables, salad and dinner rolls.

  While cleaning up the kitchen, she decided where they’d meet. Swiping the counter with the damp dishcloth one last time, she hung it over the faucet to dry. She could be just as hospitable and giving as Caleb. Picking up the phone, she dialed the direct phone number to his office at the college. After the fifth ring, she heard the recording of his richly textured voice.

  “This is Professor Jackson, please leave a message and remember, a day without God and music is a day you haven’t lived to the fullest.”

  His words exactly mirrored her own sentiment. Her growing certainty that they could work through their differences came through clearly in her sparkling voice. “Professor Jackson, I accept your apology and thank you for the food. If you have no other plans, I think we should meet at my house Saturday afternoon at five. You have my number if this is inconvenient. Goodbye.”

  Grace hung up the phone, turned off the light and went to her room. It was just as her mother had always said.

  God would make a way.

  Caleb was determined to not to be late. He often became engrossed in doing class work or writing music and lost track of time. He’d set his alarm clock and the timer on the oven just to make sure he didn’t give Grace a reason to be annoyed with him. Not that she seemed to need any, he thought as he turned into her driveway and cut the motor. A quick glance a
t the stainless steel watch on his arm put a smile on his face. It was 4:51.

  Reaching over he picked up the leather zipper folder and got out. The little white frame house was as neat as the owner. So were the begonia flower beds that ringed around the single maple tree and clustered on either side of the short walk. Two strawberry jars of sprouting flowers were on the edge of the porch. An old-fashioned glider painted the same bright yellow as the shutters was pushed against the single railing at the end of the porch. On the other side were more plants.

  Her place was as inviting and charming as his was messy. Good thing she hadn’t wanted to meet at his house. That she suggested they meet at her place was a good sign and he better get to it if he intended to start off on the right foot. Quickly going up the single step, he rang the doorbell. It opened before the chime ended.

  “Good evening, Professor Jackson,” Grace greeted as she pushed open the screen door.

  They’d work on her calling him Caleb later. “Good evening, Grace. Thanks for opening your home.” They hadn’t talked since Wednesday night. Like her, he’d left a message on her machine. It was as if each was afraid of making another misstep with the other.

  He entered and found the inside as welcoming as the outside. The light-blue traditional sofa with yellow piping dominated the room painted a warm eggshell color. A beautiful double matted picture of a woman in a long white dress standing beside a mounted buffalo soldier going off to war hung on the far wall. Tied to the soldier’s saddle horn was a bugle. “Your home is as beautiful on the outside as it is on the inside.”

  “Thank you,” she said, a pleased smile on her face as she closed the door. “I thought we’d work on the dining room table where we’ll have more room to spread out.”

  “Sounds good.” He followed behind her and noticed she wore a starched, long-sleeved white blouse and tailored black slacks. Did she ever dress for comfort?