“It was. We grabbed some things from the donated bazaar items. My dad had this crazy idea to make this his exercise room after I moved out. But that never happened.”
“How long ago did you move out?” Jonas asked.
“Six years ago. I have a place in town near my job. I work at the veterinary clinic.”
“Oh, you don’t work here?”
“I do that, too.”
“I didn’t see your mom. Does she live here?” Jonas asked.
Haley shook her head. “She lives in California, teaching high school or something. Long story. I’ll tell you all about it one day. As for right now.” She walked toward the door. “You’re about to experience my dad’s cooking.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Everyone is trying to feed me.”
“That’s because you’re so thin,” she said. “And that didn’t happen because of the car accident.” She paused in the doorway. “Hey, Chip. I’m sorry you and I got off on the wrong foot the day we met.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?” he asked. “I wasn’t very nice.”
“No, you weren’t, but it wasn’t my place to call you out like I did.”
“Someone had to.”
“Yep. But that’s Maw-Maw’s place. She has a way of doing it without you knowing it. Trust me.”
“I know.”
“Lunch?”
“Yeah.” He walked to the door, pausing to look back at the room before he left.
Jonas couldn’t decipher how he felt about it all, the room, the job, the town he accidentally arrived in. It was hard to figure out how he felt about anything, when he couldn’t even figure out who he was.
FOURTEEN
The squad car was parked curbside directly in front of the walking path to the church. Marge knew it was the Chief’s car, his name was on it. She was curious when she saw it, she couldn’t recall seeing the Chief ever at the church. Surely, he wasn’t there for services, a quick in and out of some sorts. Not even the chief would be so brazen as to block the main walkway to the church right before the eleven am service.
As she made it up the path, the chief was walking out. He nodded to the church goers as he passed them and stopped before Marge.
“Well, hello there, Chief. This is a surprise. Are you checking up on Chip?”
“I’m going to. I heard he’s on the side of the church working on the flower beds.”
“Oh, boy, Pastor Rick will just let anyone touch those flowers. I knew there had to be some reason for seeing you here.”
“I’m here every Sunday,” Russ replied. “You go to this contemporary service; I go to the traditional. The coffee at the mingle is much fresher.” He held up his obnoxious cheese curl designed travel mug.
“Oh, so you only stop by for the coffee.”
“Pastor Rick likes to keep the law caffeinated.”
Marge smiled. “Go check on Chip, and make sure he ate. That boy is still skin and bones.”
“I’m sure he ate. Rick always boasts he starts out his day with a hearty breakfast.”
“From a freezer box.”
“Breakfast is breakfast, Marge. Go to church.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a nod.
Marge walked ahead to the church, alone, without her husband Old Joe.
Joe stopped going to church not long before. Russ understood why. Old Joe had his reasons for not going, he just hadn’t found his reason to go back.
Sipping the refreshed coffee, he got from the contemporary service mingle, Russ walked around to the side of the building.
He didn’t really know what to expect, he just knew not to expect much.
Pastor Rick told him he sent Chip out to work the flower beds on the side of the building. The kid didn’t know his name, how in the world was he to even remember gardening?
Russ was wrong.
He hadn’t seen the flower bed look so wonderful, not since the Pastor’s former wife tended to it.
Chip was on his hands and knees, planting what looked like the last batch of annuals.
“Will you look at this,” Russ said. “Did you remember how to do this?”
“Actually, no,” he replied. “Pastor asked if I wanted to fiddle with it. He told me to start on the side that way if I messed up no one would see.”
“You didn’t mess up.”
“My hands just took over.”
“Did you have one of those memory feelings?”
“Once I started it, it was automatic.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Then I just didn’t …”
Russ waited. Chip just paused. “Are you alright?”
“Your coffee mug.”
“My daughter got this for me. Ugly isn’t it?”
“It seems familiar. I don’t know why. The pattern. The cheese curl pattern is just …I’ve seen it. I know it.”
“Maybe you have one.” Russ held it up. “Or a love of cheese curls.”
“Maybe.” He chuckled.
“Keep up the good work. Pastor Rick is going to be proud. That’s impressive. Are you … are you going into service?”
“Me?” he scoffed. “No. No. I heard the organ music and mass choir style singing earlier. Not for me.”
“Oh, this service is the rock band.”
“Rock band?” he asked. “A church rock band.”
“Well, not rock. The older folks call it noise,” Russ explained. “Pastor Rick is still hoping it will be the draw. Bring younger folks in from other towns around here, he kept telling the church counsel over and over it will pack the house.”
“It hasn’t?”
“Hmm. Not yet. All it will take is one good Sunday. I believe that,” Russ said. “Word spreads fast in these parts. I’m gonna head out on patrol. I think the front of the church should be your next move.”
“I’ll tell Pastor Rick. Have a good day, Chief.”
Hearing him say that as he walked away, gave Russ pause. “Yes, thank you, Chip. You as well.”
As he walked away, he looked back at the newcomer. The young man with the slightly bruised face and boy band haircut.
He came into town screaming and angry. It had been one week since that accident, and already he saw a change in the young man. It could be short lived or the fact that he couldn’t remember anymore why he was so angry. Whatever the reason, Russ was starting to think for the young man’s sake, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all to encourage him to stay in town.
◆◆◆
Jonas had no intention whatsoever of going into the church. He had his fill after just hearing the sounds of the morning service. It made him tired. But the second he heard the drums, something kicked in him. And it wasn’t just the overly loud bass drum.
He was curious. Was there a drummer in there practicing or did it sound differently inside than it did out?
Something about the sound of the music pulled him, and he didn’t know why.
He thought he could slip in the back of the church unnoticed and listen. Perhaps because the music called to him so much it would trigger something.
His thought of being unnoticed went out the window when he saw there were only a couple dozen people in the church. Unlike earlier where he saw hundreds of people walking in.
Jonas didn’t remember much, but he was certain his dirty tee-shirt and ‘I was just digging in the dirt’ look wasn’t church appropriate.
He stayed in the back and watched. There was a drummer, a couple of guitar players and an older woman singing.
Those in attendance tried to follow along, looking at the screen for words that were totally mismatched from what the worship leader sang.
He spotted Maw-Maw a few rows up. Then as if she had some sort of radar on him, she looked back and over her shoulder.
She smiled and waved for him to come join her.
Jonas shook his head.
She had this insistent look and he relented and walked to her.
She grinned at him and scooted over.
“I’m not
dressed for this,” Jonas whispered.
“No one cares,” she replied. “Here.” She handed him a program. “Sing.”
“No. It’s off.”
“I know. They try. God love them. They’re pouring their hearts into this. Look at them.”
Jonas did. He could see it on their faces, they were feeling, singing praise. But he couldn’t hear it. The drums drowned out everything. He couldn’t distinguish one guitar from the other and if the singers were singing in tune, Jonas wouldn’t know.
He didn’t understand why, but it stirred an antsy feeling in his gut. He didn’t understand why he felt so upset that it sounded so wrong.
It was missing its point. Music was supposed to move and inspire, but it was distracting. At least to him.
“Maw-Maw, who is running how this sounds?” Jonas asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone has to be controlling what we’re hearing.”
“Oh, I don’t think anyone is controlling it,” she said. “Pastor Rick sets everything back there.” She turned and pointed to the back of the church where an older man stood back with folded arms.
“Is that a security guard?”
Marge laughed. “No, that’s Burgess he’s just keeping an eye out. I don’t know why. It might be the mixing center. I don’t know the technical stuff. Don’t worry about it, Chip.” She patted his hand. “They’re all learning.”
Jonas looked at the band, then back at Burgess. Again, he felt this ‘drawn’ feeling and he slipped from the row.
“Chip,” Marge whispered his name. “What are you doing?”
Jonas lifted a finger to her mouthing the words, ‘I’ll be back’ and walked straight toward Burgess.
When he arrived back there, he saw what Burgess was standing by. A table that held a large music mixing board and a small laptop computer. He could see the words to the song scrolling, they seemed to be about three seconds faster than what the band on stage played.
Burgess had his arms folded as if he was conveying, “I’m not touching this.’
Jonas approached him. “You know if you pull back the drums, it will sound better.”
“What do you mean pull back the drums?”
“I don’t know,” Jonas replied. “I don’t even know why I used that term.” His eyes shifted to the gear on the table. “Can I?”
“Oh, I don’t care. Pastor Rick may get mad, but if you know what you’re doing, go for it”
That was the point, Jonas didn’t know if he knew what he was doing.
He looked at the large board. Sliding levers with a row of turning knobs above each lever. They were labeled as well. Drums one, bass drum, snare drum, lead guitar and so forth.
Every level was the exact same including the microphone for the singers.
The first thing Jonas did was look at the laptop. He reached over and hit the spacebar, pausing the scrolling words. He didn’t know the song, not at all, but he listened and hit the spacebar again to restart it. It wasn’t a close match to what the band sang, but it was better.
Swept over by one of those memory feelings, and not understanding how or what he knew, Jonas took a seat behind the mixing board.
Following that ‘Feeling’ Jonas started moving levers, turning knobs on high ends, low ends, mids …
It took until the beginning of the third song and things clicked. It was like a puzzle he had to solve, pressing buttons, changing things until it sounded right.
“Chip?” He heard Haley’s voice right behind him. She actually sounded panicked. “Chip. What are you doing?”
Jonas froze, his hands slowly lifted, he closed his eyes for a moment and turned around. “I’m sorry, Haley. I don’t know why I … I’ll stop.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I was going to say, whatever you’re doing, keep going. That sounds amazing. Thank you.”
“Really.”
“Yes. Pay attention.” She pointed to the board, then stood next to him.
“Something tells me if I knew the songs, I could even do this better.”
“We’re gonna have to change that then. But for now …” She pointed down to the board. “Just keep it up.”
Jonas smiled at her. He honestly didn’t know how he was doing it, or even what he was doing. He was following that feeling, following the sound, and it just felt right.
FIFTEEN
Jonas wished he knew if he ever felt in his life as appreciated as he did that moment after the contemporary service, when everyone told him what a difference it made the second he jumped in to work the controls.
“Finally,” someone told him. “We could hear the pastor. I thought he had a toothache or something before.”
Then again, Jonas didn’t remember anything, technically, it was the first time in his life he could recall feeling so good.
With that came a new job.
Pastor Rick asked if he would work the board for services and rehearsals. But Jonas had to learn the songs a little better and the program that projected the words on a screen from a laptop that was running on an outdated operating system.
They used the pastor’s office because he had an extensive library of music plus, he subscribed to one of those unlimited music plans.
Haley told Jonas he reminded her of those ‘Reaction’ videos she always watched online.
He didn’t know what they were, and she explained that it was videos of people listening to a different type of music or song they had never heard. She loved watching someone just freak with joy. Not that Jonas was freaking with joy, but he had reacted a lot according to her.
He didn’t think he did. The music didn’t sound shocking to him, so much so he was convinced at some point he had been exposed to it.
“What do you think?” Haley asked. “It’s older, but one of my favorites.”
“Is this all you listen to?” Jonas asked.
“What? Do you mean like is Christian music all I have on my playlist?”
“Yeah.”
“No, I like country and old boy band stuff. Though I have to say your haircut took me back.”
Jonas grumbled a ‘thanks’.
“You know I’ve been thinking,” she said. “The way you naturally went to the mixing board. I wonder if you were a DJ coming home from a gig. I mean, I can’t explain the gardening, but if you think about it. It was late and … there’s a rave outside of Lincoln. Raves are notorious for people slipping stuff into people’s drinks.”
“That’s actually a good theory,” Jonas said.
“How does it feel to you? Does it ring a bell?”
“Not really. Though I’m kind of stuck on the fact that you just told me there is a rave in Lincoln, Nebraska. It’s almost like an oxymoron.”
Haley laughed, then turned her head when there was a knock on the arch of the door.
“Dinner is just about done,” Pastor Rick said.
“Dad? Isn’t it early?” Haley asked.
“Ping pong league starts back up tonight,” he said. “How’s it going? You’ve been at this for a couple days.”
Jonas answered, “I want to be ready for rehearsal tomorrow night. Who picks the songs?”
He lifted his hand. “Me. I do. I pick them. You can’t just select a song because it’s good, you have to pick the music to match the message. Like this coming Sunday it will be about giving it to God. I try to touch that message at least once a year; people tend to forget.”
“I see.” Jonas nodded. “You pick songs that deal with handing it over. Got it.”
“Yes, and the following week I have a ‘God is First’ theme.”
“You can do like a ‘He not Me’ theme and do all songs that start with He, because there are a ton of them.”
Pastor Rick smiled. “Chip, that’s really clever. Very clever.”
“Have you ever picked your sermon and message based on a song you heard?’
“No.”
“Why?”
“I … I don’t know, th
at’s not how it works.”
“Christian music is meant to inspire and move, at least that’s what Haley told me,” Jonas said. “Why don’t you have it one day inspire and move you to a message?”
“I … I don’t know. We’ll see. Right now. Dinner. I ran two towns over to get that rotisserie chicken from Costco and you can only reheat it once before it dries out. Haley, are you staying?”
“Um …” she stammered in her answer. “You know what? Yes. I will stay. It will save me from having to cook for myself. Then I have to go. It’s a long day tomorrow. I have to work, then back here. We have deliveries, teen group, evening rehearsal, and I have to try to get the cemetery visits in, and by myself it will take a while.”
Pastor Rick said, “I can do the cemetery thing.”
“No, Daddy you can’t,” she said. “You have hospital visits in Fremont.”
“I can help,” Jonas said, as he stood from behind the desk. “With whatever you need. I mean, I work here, right.”
Pastor Rick nodded. “Yes, you can. Right now that chicken is calling us and since I’ll be in Fremont tomorrow, I’ll grab those frozen raviolis from Walmart you like so much, Haley.”
Haley just gave a closed mouth smile as her father walked out of the office. “Yum.”
“It’s not that bad,” Jonas said.
“Oh, what do you know, you can’t remember if you ever had a fast food burger.”
“True. What’s this cemetery thing?”
“We go to the local cemetery, there’s about six people who went to our church that passed that don’t have family, so we go once a week and try to make the graves look nice. And yes, you volunteered for that.”
“That uh … sounds interesting.”
“Not as interesting as those ravioli you have to eat tomorrow.” Haley walked toward the door. “Oh, hey, put that on pause so you remember where you left off.”
He thought at first that she was making a memory joke about forgetting where he left off, then he realized she was being serious about the tracks he was listening to. He returned to the desk, leaned down, grabbed the mouse and as he clicked it, he saw the title of the song. ‘I got you’
Jonas froze when he read those words. They sent something through him, the title to the song were the words spoken and only memory of that night.
The Passenger Page 7
