Unlikely Praise

by Carla Rossi

  “This isn’t the time—”

  “Did you know he’s out of jail?”

  Panic moved in a wave across her face and banished all color from her cheeks. “How do you know that?”

  He pulled the card from his pocket. “He approached some members of a band I know. Spider Monkey gave me this business card when he was here the other day.”

  She took it and squeezed until it crumpled. “I got word he was to be released, but we don’t talk so I didn’t know the details. Are you telling me he’s trying to work in Austin again?”

  “I don’t know. But he was in San Antonio as recently as last weekend.”

  She stood and gathered her things. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Wait. I know you’re upset about this. Let’s go somewhere after church and talk about it.”

  Max burst into the room like a rainstorm at a picnic. “We better warm up. Kelly’s starting to think about her song and freak out.”

  “Coming,” Candi answered and slipped right out of the room without looking back.

  “Nice,” Shade said and picked up his coffee. “Your timing could not be better.”

  “No worries, buddy.” Max gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “She can’t stay mad at you forever.”

  Right. Problem was, he thought maybe she could.

  12

  From: Pastor Charles Littleton

  [mailto:pastorcharles@crnrstone-chrch.org]

  Sent: Saturday, May 16 8:12 AM

  To: Candi Canaberry

  CC: Shade Blackledge

  Subject: Youth Service and Festival

  Candi and Shade:

  Congratulations! I hear the practices for the youth service are going well. I knew you could do it and appreciate your continued dedication to this new venture.

  I’ll see you all later today at the music festival. I know you’ll be great. Tell everyone I look forward to seeing them there.

  Charles

  Candi stopped under the first vendor canopy on the way to the inspirational music tent and held up the official Sounds of Texas Music Festival t-shirt. “Aqua, kiwi, lemon sunshine, magenta or this plum-purple hybrid?”

  Kelly’s face twisted into a contemplative look. “Get the hybrid. Makes your eyes pop. But I thought we were going to wear the Cornerstone Fellowship shirts the Outreach Committee is bringing.”

  “We are.” She stuffed the shirt into the side of her keyboard case. “But the band doesn’t get many gigs outside of church so we should have these for posterity. Or to sleep in. Isn’t that where most t-shirts end up?”

  “Oh, yeah. Especially those soft vintage ones.” Kelly tugged a wad of money out of her pocket. “Which one for me?”

  “Uh...you can pull off the aqua or the lemon sunshine.”

  They picked up their instruments and headed for their assigned stage.

  “Speaking of sunshine,” Kelly began, “at least this year I don’t have to worry about heat exhaustion.”

  “No you don’t,” Candi agreed. “Not with our sweet time slot.” She shielded her eyes against the mid-afternoon sun and glanced at the sky. “We should be taking the stage at about the time the sun is dipping behind”--she turned first one direction then another--”that building over there.”

  “And,” Kelly added as she slung her new lemon shirt over her shoulder, “Max says it’s the best possible time to hand out flyers about our church and the new youth service. It’s early enough for the young families to still be around, and late enough that the people coming for tonight’s rock bands will hear us as they come in.”

  “Yep. They have to walk right by us. It’s a win-win.”

  The crush of the crowd grew tighter as they approached the center of the college’s main courtyard. Visitors in summer shorts and baseball caps pushed strollers or tugged on children’s hands as they meandered along a row of vendors who pitched everything from free checking accounts and cholesterol screening to sausage-on-a-stick and kettle corn. Festival volunteers darted through the masses with hand-held radios while young dating couples retreated to park benches to share snow-cones, flirty glances, and sugary kisses. Longing fluttered in Candi’s heart. Too bad that would never be her...

  “What are all these salespeople doing here?” Kelly asked. “I thought this was a music festival. Check that guy out. He’s trying to sell some kind of miracle mop.”

  “Anyone can rent a vendor booth. First come, first served. You can make a lot of contacts at an event like this.”

  Kelly elbowed her and pointed. “Speaking of mops, there’s Max. Can you believe how big his hair is?”

  Candi caught sight of Max’s curly head bobbing among the throng as he came toward them. “I keep thinking they’ll give up on their quest for a ponytail but it only gets worse every week.”

  “Now, I think they’re doing it just to annoy us.”

  They stepped off the concrete walkway and onto the grass.

  Max was beaming. “You’re not gonna believe the crowd at the Christian music tent. The band on now isn’t bad, either.”

  “Good. I want to see them. Where is everyone?”

  “I can show you. And, by the way, Pastor Charles is looking for you.”

  Kelly held out her guitar case. “I’ll catch up. Can you take this for me? I want to go check out a couple more bands while I still have time.”

  “Sure thing,” he said and in return passed it off to Candi in exchange for her keyboard. “I’ll take that. I think it’s a little heavier than this guitar.”

  “Thanks. I’m not used to having to move that thing. I think I’m stretching my arm. Where’s your stick bag?”

  “It’s with our group. We have a card table set up as our central gathering spot.”

  “Did Pastor Charles say what he wanted?”

  “Nope.”

  Their last conversation had been a short and frantic one in which she explained what Shade knew, and Pastor Charles tried unsuccessfully to convince her to face her father problems head on. She was tired of hearing that.

  Max pointed and waved as their group came into view. Shade was helping Pastor Charles unroll the massive banner that announced the launch of the youth service.

  Shade’s hound’s-tooth hat was a stylish complement to the bold black writing on the church’s white t-shirt. A tickle of excitement, followed by a scratch of dread, plucked at her heartstrings. It was a daily effort to deny their connection. Every time they talked, it was painful. She tried to keep it benign, but upbeat and strictly business. He always wanted to plunge one step forward and discuss things she was trying to forget.

  Their table was a busy hive of church-shirt-clad members who buzzed back and forth like bees making honey. Someone called her name and, when she turned to look, a t-shirt landed on her head.

  “Sorry, sweetie. There’s a row of portable potties over yonder. You can pop in there and change.”

  She peeled the shirt from her face.

  Shade came to her side with a smile and took the guitar. “She’s been hurling those things in people’s faces all day.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s pretty good at it. Is the whole band here?”

  “I haven’t seen Wild Bill, but Kevin and Rocky are around here somewhere.”

  “I saw Kelly, and Carol Ann said she’d be here just before we go on. Her mom had another rough night.”

  “That’s too bad. You want an escort to the portable potties?”

  Why did his every attempt at humor make her feel better?

  “No, thanks. I think I can manage to find a row of tall, narrow, bright blue plastic buildings. That kind of thing sticks out around here.” She took a step back to look up at his hat. “Don’t tell me. That’s your festival Fedora.”

  “No. It’s not even a Fedora. It’s a Trilby.”

  “What’s a Trilby?”

  “That would be a British version of a Fedora. Or some would say a Fedora is an American version of a Tril
by.”

  “Huh. You learn something new every day.”

  “This is not authentic, though. It’s a much lighter modern-day reproduction.”

  Pastor Charles tapped her on the shoulder. “Sorry, Shade. I need a minute with Candi.”

  She followed him to a spot away from the table.

  He rested his hands at the waist of his olive green cargo shorts. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  She feigned hurt feelings. “I have not. I talked to you at least three times this week.”

  “And you haven’t told me a thing. What’s the latest? Any word from your father?”

  “Not yet. I haven’t heard from his lawyer, either. It seems peculiar I’d get that letter and then, when he’s actually released, I don’t hear a thing.”

  He patted his forehead with a folded paper towel. “I think you should call him.”

  “There’s no point. I have nothing to say to him.”

  “Oh, Candi, Candi, Candi... Do you know why I sleep so well at night?”

  She dare not respond to his rhetorical question with a puny little “why?”

  “Because every night before I go to bed,” he continued, “I replay every one of that day’s conversations and encounters and I ask myself: Did I treat that person fairly? Did I look at that situation from every perspective? Did I rush to judgment ,or speak too harshly? And if I think I didn’t handle myself appropriately, I immediately call that person and make it right.”

  “But how do you know when to do that? What if you feel you’re truly right about someone or a situation?”

  “I’d like to think I’ve gotten better at it with age, but it has a lot to do with what God’s word teaches us. You can’t miss if you follow His basic commands and instructions.”

  “But maybe those difficult conversations and situations play out as they should and everyone learns. Maybe they’re just one part of a really long bad day and there’s no making it right. Maybe it is what it is and everyone has to live with their own decisions and consequences.”

  He squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. “How do you sleep at night?”

  “I haven’t slept a whole peaceful night in two weeks, so I guess I’m hopeless and completely missing the point.”

  “Stubborn, yes. I’ll give you that. But not hopeless. No one is. Not even your father. And I think it’s quite interesting how you came to be in possession of that business card. Have you considered that might be God’s handiwork and it means you should call him?”

  She already knew that, and it wasn’t an option.

  She hitched up her chin. “I’m not ready.”

  “That’ll do for now, I suppose.” He glanced toward the table. “Looks like the whole gang’s here. Let’s gather ‘round and pray before you go on.”

  “Absolutely, but we’ve got time. We’re going on after Brett’s team. I made sure everyone would be here to support his band.”

  “It’s nice you two keep a friendly competition going. You never know when you might need something from each other.”

  “And Pastor, I hope you know that even though my personal life is a bit of a train wreck right now, my focus has always been on this ministry.”

  “There’s never been any doubt where your heart is, Candi. It’s that hard head between your ears that’s the problem.”

  “Watch it. That may be one of those remarks you think about tonight and realize you were too rough on me.”

  “Yeah,” he mused. “But I don’t think so.”

  Candi circulated through the crowd and greeted several people she knew. An electric current pulsed throughout the gathering as serious believers prepared to get down to the business of praising God.

  She spotted Brett before he spotted her. When he did finally see her, he turned away to smooth his hair and adjust his shirt as she approached. Oh, brother.

  She met him with a friendly hug. “Good to see you, Brett.”

  “You, too. Are you looking forward to going on in my team’s prime time slot?”

  She managed a demure eyelash flutter and convinced herself it was for the greater good. “Now, Brett, all’s fair in praise and worship. You had the best slot last year. It’s our turn. You can have it back next time.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Hey, thanks for sending me your set list.”

  “You too. I figured we might keep them hooked longer if we don’t overlap too much.”

  Brett pointed to a group of people who seemed to be going particularly wild as the band on stage thumped its way through Friend of God. “Looks like we don’t have to worry about keeping the crowd as long and your newest member keeps signing autographs.”

  She jerked her head around so fast she nearly lost her balance. All she could see was Shade’s fake hound’s-tooth Trilby above a throng of people who crushed against him. Her blood boiled.

  She offered Brett her calmest smile. “I’m going to get my team rounded up,” she said. “We’ll be up front ready to worship when you go on.”

  “Thanks. Uh, by the way, my bass player’s attendance has been sporadic due to some problems with his job. Do you think Rocky would be interested in helping out? I know you all have the new youth service but—”

  “Stay away from Rocky.”

  “It was worth a try. Hey,” he shouted after her. “Will I see you in a few weeks at the worship conference?”

  “Sure,” she said over her shoulder. “Me, and Shade, and Max will be there. We’ll look for you.”

  She burrowed through the group of sweaty bodies and fought her way to Shade’s side. Several young adults wearing Dead Lizard Highway t-shirts stood gazing at him like faithful, yearning puppies. “Time to go,” she said over the din of the music and pointed to the edge of the pack.

  He passed his flyers to another church member and followed her to a quieter spot. “What’s up?”

  “Are you signing autographs?”

  “Aw, man, did your buddy Brett tell you that? He’s been giving me the stink-eye all day.”

  “This isn’t the place for that, Shade. This is about evangelism and worship.” She felt herself flashing a disapproving teacher look. She hated that and tried to change her expression.

  “Oh,” he said with a sneer. “I didn’t know that. Excuse me while I hop up on stage and make an announcement so everyone will know why we’re here.”

  Yeah...she had that coming.

  She pressed her lips together so tight her cheeks caved in. Anything to keep from laughing at his exaggerated look of disdain.

  “I am not signing autographs,” he continued. “I’m handing out flyers for the youth service. A couple people asked me to sign them and waved pens in my face, but I told them I’d see them at the youth service and we’d have a better chance to talk, then.”

  He truly was a clever evangelist.

  Kevin charged up behind Shade and jumped on his back with a growl. Shade bent over until Kevin rolled off and landed on his back with a thud. Shade’s hat fell off and rolled away.

  Boys.

  “C’mon,” Kevin said through laughter. “Pastor Charles wants us.” He scrambled for the hat and plopped it on his own head.

  Shade snatched it back. “Coming.” He turned to her and flipped the hat onto his head like one of her charming film noir leading men. “You ready?”

  Her heart thumped wildly. “Yes,” she squeaked.

  As they walked towards the table, a shiver danced at the base of her neck and skipped down her spine. She twisted to look behind her. Nothing stood out among the sea of faces. She walked faster, nearly stumbling against Shade in her quest to move forward.

  He caught her hand and pulled her to his side. “I gotcha. It’s pretty crowded out here.”

  She clung to him as another wave of uneasiness overtook her and clusters of goose bumps appeared on her arms. She looked behind her again. Nothing. Inside, she cried out in silent prayer. What is this, Lord?

  As suddenly as the chilly feeling had come, it abruptly left and was replac
ed with God’s perfect peace.

  Shade stopped. “You OK?”

  “I’m fine.”

  By the time she’d prayed with her team and Brett’s band took the stage, her uncomfortable sensation was all but forgotten. A while later, as Pastor Charles introduced them and she downed her third bottle of water, nothing was on her mind but the sweet presence of God that permeated through the people assembled there.

  They opened with four upbeat songs everyone knew, and then Max came forward to talk about the youth service. After a couple slower pieces, she introduced Kelly to debut her original song and then shared a salvation message as church members prepared to visit with those who seemed interested in prayer. While she expected the crowd to dwindle as the sun went down and the popular rock bands warmed up in their tent across the campus, it didn’t happen that way. The mass continued to grow and spill onto the parking lot. Festival volunteers removed yellow tape from once restricted areas to allow more people closer access to the area surrounding the tent. When it came time to introduce each member of the band, she’d seen enough Dead Lizard Highway shirts in the audience to understand why half of them were there. She pulled Shade forward on the stage. The crowd loved it.

  “Give them what they want,” she whispered.

  “What?” His “you can’t be serious” look was priceless. “This isn’t about me.”

  “I know that, you know that, God knows that. These people may have come to see you, but what they’re getting is the Word and they don’t even know it. God’s presence and anointing is never wasted on anyone. Let’s do one of our older bluesy gospel songs and, when we get into a groove, take it for as long a ride as you want. They’re all yours. Make ‘em see Jesus with your guitar.”

  “That’s not too corny,” he said with a smile.

  “Sorry. I’m working under a tight schedule here.” She nodded to the rest of the band. They knew what to do.

  Rocky put down a classic walking bass line and Max started slow with regular claps on the high hat cymbal. She turned her keyboard to “rock organ” and waited for the time later in the song when she could accent the squeal of Shade’s guitar with the gospel organ feel of an old time tent meeting revival. She closed her eyes and soaked in the comfort and peace of true worship. When she opened them again, she caught sight of a man towards the edge of the stage on her far right. Partially obscured by Kevin and Kelly and the shadow from the fading sunlight against the tent’s front flap, the middle-aged man stood near the platform’s access ramp. Something about his stance was familiar as he rocked on his heels with his arms folded across his chest. His sunglasses hung around his neck against a red polo shirt, and the large square face of his watch caught and reflected the light with each pulse of the music. When he moved slightly forward to brush a flying insect away from his face, the truth slid across her like a slow-moving emotional tsunami and left her numb and gasping for breath.