by Carla Rossi
The blinding light of the obvious nearly knocked him backward.
Unless...
Unless her father was Don Canaberry.
How stupid could he be? He’d said her name sounded like someone he knew in Austin. But Don Canaberry, the biggest jerk in Austin music history, and the man responsible for many of his friends’ disastrous careers? How could he have not seen the connection from a mile away?
Because Candi Canaberry was nothing like her father.
He glanced her way and sailed his line into the depths with no thought of where it might land. A minute ago, she’d been so upbeat, so relaxed, and so happy. Now she stared blankly at the water as though hoping she could disappear.
He cleared his throat and opened his mouth to change the subject. If she didn’t want to discuss it, he sure didn’t want to, either.
The line danced at the end of her pole. “Uh...you got somethin’ goin’ on over there?”
As if by pure instinct, she jerked the line back to set the hook.
What a woman.
“I believe I do,” she said and laughed. “Let’s see what’s for dinner.”
She reeled in the first catch of the day. If that was dinner, they would starve to death. She surveyed the tiny catfish as it thrashed around in the air at the end of her pole.
“That’s not a fish dinner,” he observed. “That’s a fish stick.”
“Poor little guy,” she cooed. “Should’ve just fed him the bait. He’s malnourished.” She headed for the bucket.
“You don’t seriously want to keep that, do you? It’s not even an appetizer.”
“Of course not, but I do want the gloves to get him off the hook. Even the little cats can rip you to shreds.”
Sure. Like he was going to stand there and let her handle that wanna-be fish. He rushed toward the bucket. “I got it.”
“Thanks,” she said and held the slimy wet line so he could capture the fish.
He tossed it into the water. “Try again?”
She smiled and wiped her hand across her shirt. “I’m gonna need a bigger worm.”
5
From: Pastor Charles Littleton
[mailto:[email protected]]
Sent: Saturday, April 25 2:03 PM
To: Candi Canaberry
Subject: Sad News
Candi:
Longtime member and my personal friend, Woody Travers, passed away this morning. I’ll mention it during church and would like the team to sing In the Garden at some point in worship tomorrow. Perhaps the final hymn. It was his favorite.
Charles
Candi rushed into the church office a half hour before usual. She had two missions. One was to make six copies of In the Garden, and the other was to find a glue stick.
She made the copies then slid her belongings onto the counter and started to rummage through Ms. Mattie’s desk drawers.
A member of the hospitality committee passed through the office with the coffee urn. “Can I help you with something, hon?”
“Oh, no ma’am. I just need some fingernail polish or a glue stick or some rubber cement or some paste...”
“Try the elementary Sunday School classroom. Sounds like something they would have in there.”
Like she had time for that. “That’s a good idea. Thanks.”
She tried the large bottom drawer and found a semi-dried up bottle of liquid white-out and a can of hairspray. “Just might work.” She headed for the ladies’ room.
This morning she’d pulled on a pale pink suit she hadn’t worn since Easter. Now she remembered why she’d forgotten it. The stylish, tailored jacket with the single large button in the front fit beautifully. The matching pencil skirt with the slit in the back was a little short, so she opted for pantyhose and pumps instead of bare legs and sandals. Big mistake. Because, as she was painfully reminded when she got out of the car, pantyhose catch on anything and everything. Then they run like a house afire. Too late to go home, too uncomfortable and, well, bare, to wear her pumps without hose. She glanced at her watch. Right. She wasn’t running to the store, either.
Now she stood in a bathroom stall, hiking up the hose as far as they would go without causing the runner to creep further down her leg. She put her foot on the toilet seat and doused her inner thigh with white-out. For added measure, she sprayed the spot with extra-firm-hold hairspray. If the good Lord loved her even a little bit, the end would stay stuck and wait until church was over to bust loose and streak past her hemline like a runaway train. At least that’s how she prayed it would happen.
Carol Ann met her as she crept up Rocky’s ramp so as to not put any more stress on the runner by climbing the steps.
“You OK?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s a pantyhose thing.”
Carol Ann nodded her sincere understanding. “I hear ya. Quit wearing them myself. Got tired of feeling like I had a boa constrictor wrapped around my middle.” She took the copies of In the Garden. “I love this old hymn.”
“I do too, but I’m afraid some of the others won’t be familiar with it.”
The band started to assemble early in order to go over the pastor’s requested song. She’d texted the information about Woody Travers and several links to view In the Garden on the Internet, but she never knew for sure who had time to work on these things when they came up last minute. Max would know the song from the same place she did: grandma’s knee and their respective grandparents’ country churches. Rocky was virtually unchurched until two years ago and Kevin and Kelly seemed to recognize only contemporary worship music.
She had no idea what Shade knew, but if he did know it, she’d never heard him sing. Would he want to take a vocal lead? Carol Ann was the obvious choice as it was one of her favorites, too, but she didn’t like to sing lead. By her own admission, she couldn’t remember most melodies because she was so busy finding the “needle in the haystack” harmony parts no one else could find. Candi smiled. Carol Ann was a genius at that. If she could sing all the parts at one time, she would.
“Lord, help us,” she whispered and prepared to pull everyone in to discuss it and pray.
But Shade had not arrived.
“Anyone seen Shade?”
“Texted me this morning,” Max offered. “He knew what time.”
Rocky rolled forward in anticipation of the circle. “That truck may have stranded him somewhere on the side of the road.”
Kelly pointed to the back of the church. “Umm...isn’t that him back there with Pastor Charles?”
Rocky placed his hand across his brow as if searching a lost horizon. “Yeah. Didn’t recognize him like that.”
“That’s different,” Kevin agreed.
Carol Ann just smiled.
Candi turned so fast to take a look that she felt the hairspray and white-out tug at her skin. If that ex-Dead Lizard was wearing his fishing Fedora or some rock star nonsense, like metallic spandex pants or a strategically ripped t-shirt, she would beat him with his own guitar.
But it wasn’t like that at all.
It was much worse.
No, wait a minute, it was much...better?
He shook the pastor’s hand, picked up his guitar case, and jogged toward the front. The jeans were the same, the boots were the same, but somehow his ponytail had gotten loose. His long blond tresses cascaded behind him and danced on the shoulders of his smooth black blazer.
Candi leaned forward and squinted. Yep, it really was a crisp white dress shirt and a black leather blazer. Was this his idea of dressing up?
Carol Ann clutched her arm. “Kinda looks like a blond version of Daniel Day-Lewis when he was running through the woods in The Last of the Mohicans.”
“Hardly.”
“I’m just sayin’.”
Shade took all three steps in one stride and came to an abrupt stop at their circle. His hair floated down and rested in soft waves around his face. He set down his case. “Sorry. I was here, but couldn’t g
et away from the pastor.”
Everyone nodded. “I heard that,” Rocky said. “That guy likes to talk.”
Kevin wasted no time. “Dude. Your hair’s not in a ponytail.”
Candi grimaced. Leave it to one of the Dynamically Oblivious Duo to innocently declare the obvious as if it were breaking news.
“Not today,” he answered and swept one side of the mass over his left shoulder. “Crazy morning at my place.”
“I like it!” Kelly proclaimed with such gusto you’d think it was Christmas.
“Thanks. Yours looks good down, too,” he replied, noting the coincidental absence of her ponytail as well.
Kelly turned as red as a stoplight. “Thanks!”
They ended the exchange with an exploding fist bump.
Candi clutched her stomach. Oh, brother. Of all mornings for them both to be without a rubber band. “We need to get started.”
Everyone fell silent.
“First let’s welcome Shade to his first official worship service.”
Their response was enthusiastic.
“Secondly, as I texted you yesterday, Woody Travers passed away. The rest of the songs will be like we practiced Tuesday night, but we’re going to do In the Garden as a final hymn. Who knows this song?”
Max and Carol Ann responded with a yes.
“I know it,” Shade said.
She turned to Kevin and Kelly. “Did you guys have a chance to take a look?”
“I didn’t,” Kevin admitted.
“I did,” Kelly said, “but it’s not like I can sing it, or anything.”
“Rocky?”
“Sorry, Candi.”
The third cup of coffee she’d gulped down churned in her otherwise empty stomach. “I can sing it if I have to, but all my best memories of this song are of a guy leading it with harmony on the chorus.” She turned to Shade. “I know you haven’t done much singing with us yet, but is this one you’re up for? We have time to go through it. It’s in A-flat, but I’d have to at least drop it to F. What about you?”
He took a quick look at the piece of music Carol Ann had passed around the circle. “I think Max should sing it.”
Max stepped back and put his hands up in protest. “Whoa. I play drums and I sing.” He hooked his thumb in his belt loop. “But never at the same time.”
Candi shook her head. “Yeah, that won’t work because he’ll be on the drums.”
“Why does he have to be on drums?” Shade asked.
Someone let out a tiny gasp. Suddenly she was the kid on the playground who was being challenged to fight. Was it her imagination, or had everyone taken a step back to give them room?
She felt her claws come out, but sent up a silent prayer she wouldn’t lose it and say something she’d regret. Sure, they tossed around ideas at practice, but never had anyone called her out in the circle when it was time for her to take the lead and get something done the quickest and most efficient way.
“Why?” she responded. “Because he’s the drummer, that’s why.”
“Sorry. I’m not trying to cause a stink here, but can I make an observation?”
There was a pain on the left side of her face. She tasted blood before she realized she’d bitten the inside of her cheek. Some days she didn’t like to be in charge. There never seemed to be one simple Sunday morning when everything went the way it was supposed to. And now she was at a crossroads of control. There wasn’t time to investigate a hundred options. If she put her foot down and sang the song herself, it would look like she had to have her way. She never wanted the team to feel like that.
But what did Shade know about it? It was his first Sunday and he was going to jump in and have the one suggestion she never considered? If that were true, perhaps she didn’t belong here anymore, anyway.
From her heart of hearts she felt the tug of an answer to a thousand silent prayers.
Who do you trust, Candi?
I trust You, Lord!
Then trust me.
So she did.
“Go ahead, Shade.”
He pushed his jacket open and rested one hand at his belt. “This song is in six/eight. That’s a slow waltz tempo. There’s not much Max can do with that on the drums and it’s gonna end up sounding like a tired country version of a classic hymn. Especially with two acoustic guitars in a waltzing strum pattern.”
Candi stood straight and met his gaze. “What do you suggest?”
“No drums. Let Max sing. Rocky can hit the bass notes a little heavier on the first and fourth beats of the measure to keep it alive. Full harmony on the chorus. Kevin can pick, and you can add piano.”
“What are you and Kelly going to do?”
Rocky snorted into his hand. “They’re gonna retire to the ladies’ room and discuss ponytail techniques.”
The group dissolved into rollicking laughter as she lost all control of the situation.
Rocky caught his breath and immediately began his plea for mercy. “I’m sorry, Candi.” But he didn’t look too repentant as he dipped his head and struggled not to snicker.
“That’s enough, guys,” she ordered. “Let’s get this done.”
Carol Ann pulled a compact out of her pocket and checked below her eyes for smeared mascara. “Just tell us what to do,” she said and snapped it closed.
“He’s right,” she said. “Max will do a great job. Shade and Kelly can sit this one out. Sometimes less is more in worship.” She headed for the keyboard. “Let’s give it a try and then we’ll pray.”
With each step, her pantyhose moved. She didn’t have to look to know the runner had come free and raced to her ankle.
Kevin came up beside her a moment later and tapped her shoulder, even though she knew he was there. “Hey, Candi.”
“Yes?”
“You have a hole in your hose.”
****
Shade piled two apple-filled jelly doughnuts on his napkin and joined Rocky in the corner of the hospitality room.
“One service down, one to go. How do you think that went?”
Rocky took a swig of water. “Great. You were right about In the Garden.”
Max and Kevin approached. They’d taken a whole box of pastries off the table.
“What’d we miss?”
Rocky changed positions in his chair. “Shade was just about to tell us about his fishing trip with our fearless leader.”
Kevin licked icing off his fingers. “You went fishing with Pastor Charles?”
“Not that leader, the other one. Candi.”
Kevin actually looked speechless.
Max leaned in. “How’d it go?”
“Had a good time. She knows what’s she’s doing. Caught some fish, too.”
“How many fish?”
“Not enough for dinner, but it was a respectable catch.”
“Anything good size in that pond?”
Shade leaned against the wall. “We didn’t catch anything worthy of mounting over the fireplace, but I think there’s some pretty big catfish in there.”
Max pulled another doughnut from the box. “You goin’ again?”
“Don’t know. She seemed OK about it yesterday, but she hasn’t said a word to me today. We’ll see.”
Rocky tucked his bottle of water into the side of his chair and motioned for Kevin to pass the box. “I wouldn’t let that worry you. She’s all business on Sunday mornings. She has a lot on her mind.”
“Same way on campus,” Kevin added. “Some students say she’s cold, but once they get to know her, they like her. She gets four and five stars on the Rate Your Professor website.”
“Out of how many possible stars are we talkin’ here?” Rocky asked.
“Five.”
“OK, just checking.”
Shade recalled the look on her face in the circle when he’d inadvertently challenged her. “I don’t think she’s too happy with me this morning, anyway. Like I said, we’ll see.”
“Aw, she’ll lighten up,” Max assured
him. “She’s actually pretty funny. You’ll see today when we go out to lunch after church.”
“I can’t make it today.”
“Serious? This is your first Sunday. We were gonna buy you lunch.”
“I had something come up.”
“Next week, then.”
Rocky handed the box back to Kevin. “Hey, while we’re all here I need to ask you guys to pray about something.”
There was a sudden change in the men’s demeanor. Like the good friends they were, Max and Kevin trashed the box and turned their full attention to Rocky.
Shade was honored to be included. Having come from a place where everyone wanted to be his friend only to party with the band, he was genuinely moved to experience true camaraderie—and a connection he hadn’t felt since Pete died.
“What’s up, Rock?”
“I’ve been contacted by a counselor at a Christian youth camp. He wants me to come and talk about my injury, my recovery, my faith, and all that. He says the kids need to hear from Christian men with challenges. He says I’m a role model. Can you believe that?”
Max huffed out a breath. “What’s there to pray about? This is a no-brainer. You have to do it.”
“I can’t do it. I’m no public speaker. I’d forget to set my brake and roll off the stage or something embarrassing like that.”
“You’re shortchanging yourself, Rock. You know you’re a comedian at heart. You’ll have those kids in the palm of your hand. And you have a great testimony.”
“When would you do it?” Shade asked.
“He said I could pick my day and time.”
“That’s good. Your work hours are flexible, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Are they going to pay you?” Kevin’s question, of course.
“I think so. And he also said that over the summer new campers start every Sunday, so he’d want me to come at least once a week.”
“Aw, man, you gotta do it. Just think of all the people you’ll reach. And this could lead to speaking gigs all over the place. Church youth groups, stuff like that.”
“Don’t get ahead of the guy in the wheelchair, OK? I don’t know yet. Just pray. And don’t tell anyone, because I don’t know if it’s going to work out.”