“Each time we see these Christmas candles flickering, even these small votives,” he noted, pointing to the display that covered the altar, “we are reminded of God’s gift to us this day, His only son, and His steadfast presence in our lives. Every day of the year, let us always remember Christ is the light of the world, sent here to earth to guide our way.
“And let us all be deeply thankful for this gift today, of the Good News we have received. The Light of God shines in the World. Shout and sing with joy, and celebrate the hope and promise of this day.”
At the close of the service, the choir and congregation sang together again, this time “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.”
“Hark the herald angels sing, ‘Glory to the newborn King! Peace on Earth and mercy mild. God and sinners reconciled . . .”
The carol was definitely another crowd-pleaser, and the entire church was bursting with joyful voices. Amanda knew that Charles Wesley, brother of the famous Methodist minister John Wesley, had written the lyrics, but the tune was based on a piece by Mendelssohn and sounded magnificent—even celestial—played on the organ.
“. . . Join the triumph of the skies . . . With the angelic host proclaim: ‘Christ is born in Bethlehem.’ Hark the herald angels sing . . . Glory to the newborn King . . .”
Reverend Ben stood at the back of the sanctuary now, his hand raised as he gave a final blessing for Christmas Day. “And now may the glory and love of God surround you. May the peace and grace of Christ dwell deep within you. May the power and presence of the Holy Spirit uphold you. Amen.”
Amanda played some peaceful incidental music after that as the congregation filed out of the sanctuary. When she finally rose from the organ, she felt a bit dazed, as if the last hour had passed in the blink of an eye. Still, she felt very good inside, her heart and spirit light.
“Great job, Amanda.”
“Well done.”
Members of the choir congratulated and thanked her as they stepped down from the risers. She thanked them all, too, downplaying her part. “You guys did all the heavy lifting. What are you thanking me for? You were all fantastic,” she said sincerely.
“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Sophie insisted. “You’ve been a wonderful inspiration to us these last few weeks.”
“No question,” Claire agreed.
“Bravo. Bravissimo!” Frank Borge said as he fixed her with his dark gaze and clapped his hands, which started the rest of the choir clapping, too.
Amanda thanked them again and wished them all a happy Christmas as they walked back to the choir room. She felt gratified by their praise. Maybe being the music director at a church was not her true calling, but she had learned so much here in such a short time. It had been a very valuable experience, one that she would remember for the rest of her life.
“Hey, Merry Christmas, Music Girl. The choir was awesome today. Even I sounded good singing with them.”
Amanda looked up. Gabriel stood by her desk, gazing down at her with his bright blue eyes.
“Was that you croaking in the background out there? I had to play a little louder to drown it out. I think I managed it.”
He laughed at her teasing. “Hey, I’m not that bad . . . Maybe you shouldn’t get a Christmas present after all. Just coal for you this year, Music Girl.”
He had been hiding a box covered in wrapping paper behind his back but now held it out for her to see.
“Suit yourself,” she said. She stood up and reached into the leather tote on her desk. “But if you don’t give me my present . . . maybe I shouldn’t give you yours.”
She pulled out the gifts she had wrapped for him, hoping she would see him here this morning.
“You have a present for me? That’s so sweet.” He seemed surprised and pleased she had thought of him, even though he had come prepared with her gift.
“It’s not much, but I hope you like it.”
“I hope you like yours. Only one way to find out. You go first,” he said. He handed her the box and watched as she unwrapped it.
It was fairly big box but felt too heavy for clothing, which was a relief. Amanda rarely liked any clothing picked out for her, and it was hard to pretend otherwise.
There was some tissue cushioning inside, which seemed to eliminate a book. Then she pulled the tissue back and quickly realized what the gift was: the beautiful stained-glass beach scene he had shown her when they drove to Angel Island.
“Gabriel . . . you’re giving me this? It’s so beautiful,” she said, holding up the glass creation. “But you shouldn’t have,” she said suddenly. “I mean, this is your artwork. You must need it. To put in an art show or something.”
He shrugged. “It’s not quite that wonderful. But I’m glad you think so. I finished it just in time. I put this chain on the top so you can hang it in a window if you like.”
“Of course I’ll hang it up. I can’t wait.” She set it down carefully and looked up at him. “I love it. I truly do. Thank you so much.” She knew that wasn’t a very articulate response, but she couldn’t quite find the words—or the courage—to convey her feelings, to tell him how precious this gift was to her. She reached up and put her arms around him and hugged him a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You are so welcome. I’m so glad now I didn’t get you something safe, like a book or a calendar,” he admitted with a laugh.
“I am, too . . . but my present isn’t half as interesting or original,” she said as she handed him the box.
“Somehow I doubt that.” He quickly tore off the paper to reveal the large-format art book she had found online for him. It was about stained glass, the history of it and the most famous examples from churches and buildings around the world, featuring major artists who worked in the medium, like Louis Tiffany, Marc Chagall, and Frank Lloyd Wright.
Gabriel paged through it, looking so interested she wasn’t sure he was going to get around to opening his second gift. “Wow, this is perfect. Talk about inspiration . . .”
“I wasn’t sure if you already had something like that. The gift receipt is in there if you want to return it.”
“Return it? I love it. I don’t have anything quite like this. I’m going to read it cover to cover. It will give me a lot of references and ideas.”
Amanda found herself smiling once again.
“And what is this?” he asked, holding up a much smaller package.
She shrugged. “Just a little something else.” She watched him unwrap it and explained, “I bought a CD for you and burned one, too, from my audition recording. It’s that classical cello piece you liked. You have your choice between Yo-Yo Ma . . . and me.”
He looked at the two CDs and laughed. “Let’s see . . . who do you think I’d pick from those choices?”
Before she could answer, he leaned over and kissed her. A quick, hard kiss on her lips. “Thanks, Amanda. This is a great gift. Whenever I play it, I’ll feel as if you’re right there with me.”
Amanda hadn’t even thought of that, but loved it that he had.
“Amanda, are you still here?” Amanda heard her mother’s voice, then saw Molly peering into the choir room. “Oh, hello, Gabriel. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Harding,” he answered with a smile.
“I was just coming, Mom. I have my own car, remember?”
“I remember, honey. I was just wondering if you’d left yet.” Her mother glanced at Gabriel again. “I guess I’ll see you back there.”
Great timing, Mom, Amanda thought, fighting down a flush of embarrassment. “Well, I’d better go,” she told Gabriel. “There’s a family party at our house today.” She stood up and slung her new scarf around her neck, then slipped on her coat.
“Same here. Let’s get together next week. I’ll call you.”
“Great. The church is closed for a few days. I have the whole week free.”
“Sounds good to me. You worked so hard to get ready for Christmas, you deserve a few days o
ff.”
Amanda didn’t think she had worked all that hard, but it had been stressful, and now she was looking forward to being able to hang out with her sisters.
Gabriel walked her out to her car and gave her another quick Merry Christmas kiss. “Have fun today. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She smiled and waved as she drove away. His gift was on the front seat right next to her, and she rested her hand on the box. It was such a wonderful present, one of the best Christmas gifts anyone had ever given her. She couldn’t wait to hang it up in her room. It would make her feel as if Gabriel was never very far away. And that, she realized, was starting to seem very important to her.
* * *
AMANDA THOUGHT SHE WOULD SLEEP LATE ON HER FIRST DAY OFF BUT woke to the buzzing sound of her phone, signaling that an email had arrived. She was about to roll over and go back to sleep but decided to check to see who had sent the message. Was Gabriel getting in touch this early, the day after Christmas? Well, that would be worth waking up early for.
But it wasn’t Gabriel. It was even better, if that was possible. She clicked open the note and sat up quickly to read it.
An orchestra in Portland, Maine, wanted to see her for an audition and an interview. A seat for a cello had just become vacant, and they needed to fill the spot promptly. She had sent them a package with her résumé and a recording months ago, when she was still in New York, but the only response had been a form letter, acknowledging receipt and noting that there were no openings at the time.
The message of this email, however, was just the opposite:
Please call us at your earliest convenience if you are interested in making an appointment for an audition and an interview.
Amanda jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. She was so excited she didn’t even need coffee to wake up, but she was still happy to see someone had already made a pot.
“Hey, early bird. I thought you were sleeping in.” Her father sat at the kitchen table and put down his newspaper to greet her. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and tie, he was ready for his workday. Germs didn’t take holidays, he often reminded them.
Her mother was there, too, wearing her Christmas pajamas: bright red flannel covered with polar bears wearing Santa hats. She looked very tired, sipping her coffee and staring into space. “Happy day-after-Christmas, honey,” she mumbled.
“It is a happy one for me. I just got an email from an orchestra in Maine. They want to see me for an audition.”
Her parents both smiled, looking pleased. But her mother didn’t jump out of her seat and do a jig around the kitchen again, Amanda noticed. She could tell what they were thinking. They didn’t want her to get her hopes up and be disappointed if she didn’t get the job. Maybe they didn’t want to get their hopes up either. Amanda understood, but she couldn’t help being hopeful.
“That’s great, honey. Where in Maine?” her mother asked.
“Portland. It’s a very good orchestra. They just hired a new artistic director last year, and he’s made a lot of changes.”
Her parents didn’t know much about the music world, and it was too hard to explain it all to them. Her father stood up from his chair and slipped on his suit jacket.
“Portland’s a lot closer than Austin. We can come and see you play there much more easily.”
“We’ll buy a season subscription,” her mother promised. Her father gave her mother a look. “I mean, when you get the job. Which you will,” she added in a very positive tone.
“I hope so,” Amanda replied. All she could do was hope—and maybe say a prayer or two. She was excited but also scared, especially after losing out on her last opportunity. But she also felt differently than she had about the job in Austin. It didn’t feel as if this one was the last opportunity she would ever get—or that she would be a failure if she didn’t get the job. Maybe the storm had helped her see the bigger picture. She knew she had a lot to be thankful for in her life, with or without a job in a symphony. She felt differently about her job at the church, too. Her work there felt so meaningful, and had even strengthened her faith. She was excited about this opportunity and planned to do all she could to prepare, but she also trusted that God had a plan for her, too, and only He knew if Portland was part of it.
* * *
RIGHT AFTER BREAKFAST, AMANDA CALLED THE NUMBER ON THE email and arranged an appointment in Portland for Monday, December 30. She wished she could go up sooner and get it over with. If they had asked, “Can you come today?” she would have jumped in the car with her cello, barely pausing to change out of her pajamas. But some members of the search committee were out of town until then. The wait did give her four full days to practice, counting today.
She was showered, dressed, and carrying her cello out to the garage by the time her sisters were stumbling around the kitchen, just out of bed.
Jill stared at her. “Hey, where are you going with that thing? I thought we were all going to the mall today.”
“I have to go over to the church and practice awhile. I’ll be back in time to mall crawl with you,” Amanda promised. “I have an audition for a job in Portland in a few days. I got an email this morning.”
Lauren was eating a bowl of Greek yogurt and granola. Now her spoon hung in midair. “An audition? Awesome! I can shop for you, don’t worry. I know what you like.”
Amanda laughed. No telling what her fashion-forward sister would come home with. “That’s all right. I can meet up with you. Just text me later and let me know what you’re up to.”
* * *
THE CHURCH WAS LOCKED, BUT AMANDA HAD A KEY. SHE CARRIED her cello into the sanctuary. Every step echoed. The church was so empty, dark, and cold. She wasn’t sure how to turn up the heat in the sanctuary and didn’t know if she was even allowed to fool with the thermostat. She uncovered the cello and set it on its stand near the altar, just to one side of the piano and choir risers, where she knew there were good acoustics. She took off her coat but kept her sweater on. She needed to prepare a few pieces, to show her range as a performer. She had standard pieces she played for auditions but had not performed them in a while, except for the section of the Vivaldi concerto she had played at church. She supposed that counted as practice in front of a real audience, but it was not quite the real thing.
She started with some Mozart and was soon focused, working on a few tricky bars, playing it over and over again to get the phrasing just right. Expression and precision were so important at this level. Anyone could read the notes and play. Well, almost anyone. Interpretation was key, but without taking liberties with the music. It was a fine line, she knew. She also knew that the people she would be playing for would not want to see too much ego. They wanted someone who was brilliant but not a diva.
She was just finishing off the last few notes of the Mozart when she suddenly heard a metal rattling sound. She looked up and saw Gabriel at the back of the sanctuary, carrying an extension ladder.
“I would have clapped, but I know you don’t like to be startled.”
“You’re right, and I don’t think that was quite applause-worthy anyway.” She couldn’t get over how glad she was to see him.
“Sure it was.” He propped the ladder up near one of the windows and walked back for his toolbox. “I thought you had the week off.”
“Oh, I’m not here for work. I got an email this morning about an audition. For an orchestra up in Portland. So I came here to practice. It’s quieter than our house, and there’s better sound in here, too. I wish I could go up to Maine tomorrow and get it over with . . . but at least I have a few days to brush up.”
“That’s great. Will it bother you to have me working here? I promised Reverend Ben I would have these windows fixed by the new year, but I can come back later. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Normally, she preferred to be totally alone when she rehearsed, but she didn’t want to chase Gabriel out of the space when he was supposed to work . . . and she did love the sound of her cello in here.
And it might even be a good thing to have him here. It was nice to hear some random applause from time to time.
“Let’s see how it goes,” she said finally. “If you’re distracting me, I’ll just go.”
“You always distract me, Amanda. But I’ll try to ignore you. I’d rather not chase you away.”
His teasing smile and the way he caught her gaze and held it made Amanda forget why she had even come. Then she remembered and picked up her bow again. “All right, enough chitchat. We both have work to do.”
Gabriel looked back over his shoulder. “I bet I’m the only guy in town today working with live music. Sure beats the radio.”
Amanda started playing again but couldn’t help smiling.
At first, she did notice the random sounds of Gabriel working, the sounds of his tools and the small torch he used to melt the lead tape that held the pieces of glass together. But as usual, Amanda soon lost herself in the music and lost all sense of time passing.
When she was finally ready to take a break, she noticed she was alone again. Gabriel had left his ladder. Maybe he went out for supplies. Sometime later, she wasn’t even sure how long, he came back in. He sat in a pew in the back of the sanctuary and listened to her play, waiting until she was ready to stop.
She leaned her head back and took a deep breath. She was playing so hard now, she felt as if she were working out in a gym.
“I brought you some lunch. Aren’t you hungry?”
He stood up from his seat. He still had his coat on and held up a brown paper bag. It smelled good, whatever it was, and she did feel very hungry all of a sudden.
“Thanks. I’d love some lunch. Why don’t we eat in Fellowship Hall?” She stood up and put her cello on the stand. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost two.”
“Oh wow . . . I have to text my sisters. They’re waiting for me at the mall.” Amanda grabbed her sweater—she had taken it off during an intense bout of playing—and followed Gabriel out of the sanctuary.
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