The Sweetest Sound

by Sherri Winston

  Junior snorted. “More like Looney-toon!”

  “Hush, Junior.” Aunt Fannie snapped a towel at him.

  We all laughed. Daddy said, “Nice to meet you, Moon Goddess.”

  Aunt Fannie kept hugging me, and I’d catch her glancing over at me, too. Apparently she had a lot to say. About how much she adored me and wanted what was best for me, how she hated to see me cooped up waiting and hoping for the return of a woman who was not willing to put her life on hold for me or the rest of our family. It was hard to hear—for me and Daddy, too, but I couldn’t say I disagreed.

  Still, I was nervous when I asked, “Daddy, are you going to stop seeing Miss Clayton?”

  He sighed, then said, “I… it’s time for me to move on. Your mama has her life. I think it’s time for me to have mine, too.”

  He was his goofy old self, all big hands and big head and soft brown eyes. He looked at me. “I didn’t want to turn you against your mother. I loved her so much. Love you so much. I just wanted what was best for you,” he said.

  I grinned. Not a shy grin, either. Wide and proud. “Daddy! You are what’s good for me. And Miss Clayton is nice.”

  “She is,” he said. Now he was smiling again.

  Junior was leaning against the kitchen counter eating one of the chicken wings out of the basket of wings Aunt Fannie was cooking. “If you need some pointers on how to keep your lady happy, old man, I’ll hook you up,” Junior said.

  Daddy laughed and shook his head. “You wait till you get up to Michigan. Those girls over there are going to be too smart to fall for your nonsense. Wait and see,” Daddy said.

  The two of them had made up. Well, sort of. Neither of them apologized. They just did what men do, I guess—they shook hands, called each other goofy names, then watched football together. Living with Daddy and Junior, I’d learned that almost anything could be settled between men with football. And the right snacks.

  When I asked Aunt Fannie how she was doing with Mr. Bassie, she smiled. “I think he might be sweet on that Letitia Jenkins,” she said. Oh, no! Letitia Jenkins was the woman at church whose skirts looked like they were made for the dance clubs on Saturday nights instead of the church pews on Sunday mornings. At least, that was what I’d overheard a few of the old women at church saying.

  “She lacks your sophistication,” I said loyally.

  Aunt Fannie grinned. “She does, indeed,” she said. “However, Garrett McEntyre, you know him? The butcher? Well, he asked me out on a date, and I said yes.”

  The butcher! I thought he was scared of her flourishes!

  She showed me how to make a piecrust and asked a million questions about books and the kinds of stories I wanted to write. She also told me how lonely she’d been and how much joy she got from being with us and teaching me things after my mother left.

  I’d never thought about Aunt Fannie being a single lady with no children and living alone. She always seemed so busy and full of life. She told me she stayed busy to keep from feeling sorry for herself. She said she’d love to have a little girl to dress and teach and love.

  I told her I might know just the right girl. Someone very close, indeed.

  School was ridiculous. But at least Zara was back.

  “Gran is so much better, Luna!” she exclaimed. We had texted back and forth. She was up to date on the madness.

  Our classroom was crazy. Everybody kept coming up to me, telling me how surprised they were to learn that I was Gospel Girl. It was hard for a while. Having so many people coming at me, talking, looking at me. I felt myself dip underwater, bubbles floating around, my heart rate speeding, hard to breathe, time slowing down.

  However, when I looked around, I realized, much like in the song I’d sung with Auntie at the Lodge, even when I was drowning, or felt like I was drowning, I wasn’t alone.

  Zara, my favorite mermaid, was there. And Faith, our reigning barracuda, was by my side, too.

  Then I felt a tiny flutter in my chest. A tingle that slowly spread throughout my body. Anytime you need a friend…

  I had gotten what I’d prayed for, and I’d made good on my promise. Knowing that was the best feeling in the whole entire world.

  Tuesday morning.

  At six thirty I sat with Faith, Jones, and Aunt Fannie in what was called the greenroom. And the walls weren’t even green.

  It was the studio for Channel Eight. Good Morning, Western Pennsylvania.

  “Auntie,” I whispered, “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “You can do it, baby. Auntie is right here. The minute I think it’s too much for you, I’ll grab you up in my arms and sweep you out of here.”

  Daddy sat across from us. Junior, too.

  The two of them were still fussing about schools. I saw Junior kept trying to put a Michigan baseball cap on Daddy. Junior didn’t realize Daddy had stuck an I ♥ PENN STATE sticker on his back.

  Both of them were grinning. I sighed. What if grown-up men were just like Junior and his high school friends? Oh, I didn’t even want to think about a thing like that!

  When it was time to be interviewed, a girl smelling like hair spray and cigarette smoke came and clipped portable microphones on us and led us onto a stage. We were seated next to the show’s host, a woman named Bonnie Smythe.

  “Good day, western PA! We have with us here today a young lady who exploded onto the Internet music scene just a few short weeks ago. Her identity had been disguised, causing quite a stir. Now this future gospel star has come out of hiding and is none other than Harmony’s own Miss Candace Jolly!”

  The woman’s smile was wide and slippery. Who could wear so much makeup so early in the morning?

  “Cadence!” Faith was saying.

  The woman looked confused.

  “Excuse me, dear?” Her smile looked plastered on.

  Faith, once again, had decided to jump in. I placed my hand on her arm. It was time I learned to take care of myself. In my own way.

  My voice was softer, and my manner was less brash. I didn’t always like it. But I was learning that part of the responsibility for growing up was being willing to take action for yourself. I mean, I was about to turn eleven.

  So I sat up a little higher in the seat. Forced a smile onto my very frightened lips, and said, “Good morning, Miss Bonnie. My name isn’t CAN-dace, though. It’s Cadence.”

  I smiled.

  She smiled.

  In six minutes, it was all over.

  “… happy birthday to yooooooooooooou!”

  Honk! Snort. Honk! Snort. Honk! Snort. Honk! Snort.

  We were seated in the back of Chin’s Chinese Restaurant. Mei-Mei was there, along with Jones, Faith, Zara, and Sophie.

  Faith was pressed next to me, whispering, “You have to write a book about all of this. Just think. It would be amazing. And I want to be your agent!”

  When we left the television station, we’d gone directly back to school. However, by lunchtime, so many kids wanted to talk about us being on the morning show and what happened in church that the principal decided we were too much of a distraction. She “invited” our parents to let us go home early and have the afternoon off.

  Faith came back home with me, and we wound up reading one of the books that Sofine had given me: The School Story, by Andrew Clements.

  It’s about this girl who wants to be a writer, like me. And her mom works for a publisher. And the girl’s friend reads her novel and thinks it’s genius. So the friend decides to act as the agent, and they try to get her book published.

  And the best thing about it?

  Their teacher, the one who helps them out, her name is Miss Clayton. Speaking of Miss Clayton, she was sitting on the opposite end of the long table from Daddy, but I’d caught them more than once making eyes at each other. Very good, indeed.

  Anyway, since we read the book, Faith has been begging me to write a story about everything that had happened with us over the past four weeks.

  “You guys know what?” Jone
s said. “Just three more weeks till the Jamboree!”

  My first feeling was guilt; I’d been too afraid to audition the right way so I’d be stuck with the kiddie choir for the performance. Then the fear factor sent a warning shot to my brain.

  OH, NO! Only three weeks until the Jamboree! Even as part of the kiddie choir there’d be lots of work to do. And what would happen now that everyone knew I could actually sing? Would I need to lead a song? Would Little Precious try to scratch my eyes out? What was going to happen?

  Sophie must have seen me turning green. She came over and demanded, “Oh, no. You will not spoil your party by freaking out. Not today. Eat cake and dance!” And so we did.

  Daddy had canceled the party at the diner. He told Sofine he wanted just a small gathering. A few family members and friends. I liked that.

  Even so, a curious number of people had “just decided” they wanted to have dinner at Chin’s, too.

  Out of nowhere, the Trinity appeared behind me. Eeeek! Was I going to get Trinitied again?

  The three church ladies moved as one. Each dressed in blue, varying shades from ocean blue to sky blue to the blue of ink. Each wore a hat that presented a beautiful feather plume, peacock style.

  Miss Lily said, “We are all so very proud of you, Little Miss Lady.”

  “Very proud,” echoed Miss Wanda.

  Sister Dahlia reached out for me, and I felt my body tense. Something about getting prayed over by the Trinity Sisters gave me the shakes.

  However, instead of praying on me like they were healing me, Miss Wanda said, “We heard about you canceling the big to-do at the diner on account of wanting to spend time with your friends and family.”

  Sister Dahlia: “Friends and family, hallelujah!”

  Miss Lily nodded, and Miss Wanda continued. “But we wanted you to know that sharing your birthday with you and your family over the years has been a blessing for all of us. And we thank you for sharing that with us.”

  Each one of them hugged me, and I was too surprised to speak.

  “And we wanted you to have this, now that you are sure to become a woman of great notice someday,” said Sister Dahlia, producing a fat, square box.

  “Please open it!” Miss Wanda said.

  So I did.

  Inside, buried beneath a field of brightly colored tissue paper, sat a hat. My very own church lady hat.

  “Consider yourself an honorary member of our little sisterhood,” Miss Lily said. After that, it seemed like the right time for presents. I couldn’t believe what the ladies had said—that allowing them to throw the parties had been a blessing for them, too.

  I was still thinking about that when I noticed that Sofine had entered the restaurant. She came over, kissed me on the cheek.

  “I’m not going to interrupt your festivities,” she said. Tonight her lipstick was bright pink, and her beehive was a glossy black, encircled with a wreath of white flowers.

  “I just wanted to say happy birthday, sugar. And I wanted to give you a little something.”

  She pushed a package at me, and everyone yelled, “Open it!”

  So I did. It was a small red purse. No. Not a purse. It was a small book bag.

  She grinned. “Just room enough for one book and maybe a few mint tea bags.”

  Strangely enough, I felt my eyes sting with tears. I blinked them back as I looked into Sofine’s smiling face. She frowned, then gathered me to her.

  “Oh, shucks, baby. Now, no need for tears. You know I was happy to do it,” she said, pulling back to look at me once again. When I looked at her, I saw the same concerned face, the same smiling eyes that took in everything from my hair to my clothes to my mood. She’d always given me those things willingly, and I’d accepted them grudgingly. Now I looked around the room, saw it filling with people who were “coincidentally” having dinner at Chin’s on the night of my birthday.

  Another astronomy word crossed my mind. Aurora. It means a bright glow. Which was exactly how it felt to be so truly blessed.

  “Really, Sofine,” I whispered against her shoulder, “thank you. With all my heart!” She squeezed me one last time, then rushed off, maybe afraid she might tear up, too.

  When the rest of the presents came out, I received several Mariah-inspired gifts. For example, I got a charm bracelet, in honor of an old album of hers with the same name.

  And Faith gave me a beautiful gold butterfly charm. “You know, because you like her song ‘Butterfly’ so much,” she said.

  Junior upgraded my iPod to an even better one. And he’d already added a bigger song list.

  “Check it out, Cady Cat. I think it’s time you spread out beyond your Mariah obsession. I got you some Mary Mary, some Kim Burrell, Yolanda Adams—all great women of gospel. There’s some pop music in there, too. Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, Keyshia Cole. Even a few country songs. Time for you to stretch your mind, little sister,” he said.

  “I got you a little something, too,” said Auntie. When I opened her box, I gasped.

  “Are they real?” I said.

  “Absolutely. I thought maybe you’d like to move up from your genuine imitation pearls and have the real thing,” she said.

  A beautiful, delicate string of pearls sat on a bed of cotton. I hugged Auntie so hard I almost toppled us.

  “Thank you, Auntie. For the pearls, for everything,” I whispered.

  When she shook off the tears threatening to fall, you know she did it with a flourish!

  Daddy saved his gift for last.

  When we got home, he said, “I had this done while we were out. Watch your step.”

  He made me cover my eyes with my hand and led me up the steps to the third floor. Something smelled weird, but I wasn’t sure what it was. I could hear Daddy and Junior trying to whisper about something.

  What was it?

  Then I felt a door open. Daddy nudged me forward and told me to open my eyes.

  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust.

  My bedroom.

  Fresh paint.

  No more calming blue.

  Now it was exciting pink, with dashes of yellow and intriguing red. Not just the walls. The curtains, bedspread, even the rug. Even Lyra’s bow tie was red.

  “It’s what you want, Cadence. This is for you. I love you, kiddo!”

  I love you, too, Daddy.

  One more thing…

  A little while later that night, Daddy called me downstairs. He had checked the messages on the phone.

  There was a message for me.

  “Happy birthday, baby. It’s me. Mom. I wish I could have been there. I saw you and Fannie singing together on the news. Oh, Mouse, you were great. I’m going to leave a number where I’ll be tonight. Call me when you get in. I want to hear all about your night. I tried calling your cell phone, but your voice mail was full. Love you so much, Mouse. Miss you!”

  Daddy looked at me. “Want to call her back?”

  I thought for a second. I’d been waiting so long for that phone call. I’d thought I needed it more than anything. Thought without it, I might never find the strength to be me.

  Turned out, I had all the strength I needed. I reached inside my pocket and fished out my phone. I handed it to Daddy.

  “Maybe we can call her tomorrow,” I said. “I’m tired.”

  Daddy looked uncertain. “You know how your mama is. She may not be at that number tomorrow.”

  I turned my palms up. “Oh, well…” I said.

  “Good night, Cadence, my little Moon Goddess. I’ve got to get used to calling you that. What about Moony G?”

  “G’night, Sea Bear!”

  “Oh, by the way, Mr. Bassie called before we went out.”

  I turned back to look at him. A question mark between my brows. “What did he want?”

  Daddy, being his usual too-playful self, grinned. “I dunno. Something about you and your friends being able to consider yourselves part of the Youth Choir starting next week. I’m not sure. I told him y’all
weren’t interested, but—”

  “Daddy!” He really could be aggravating. “You play too much!” I laughed, shaking my head.

  “Congratulations, Moon Doggy!”

  “Goddess. But you can call me Luna. You can call me Cadence. You can call me whatever you want. But please, never, ever call me Mouse!”

  Underneath the quilted night sky, I sat on the balcony breathing in sweet, sugary air filled with snowflakes as bright as falling stars. Lyra was on my lap, licking my face. I held up my iPad.

  “Look, girl! I have something to show you!” I said.

  Lyra was the perfect dog for a future bestselling author. Curious. Considerate. And she asked just the right questions.

  I turned on my tablet, then tabbed through my favorite videos. I’d reset them recently. I scrolled past one after another. Then I came to what I was looking for. Joya Booker from church. She had started posting her videos. I watched how she was with the choir. I was getting pointers. After all, my friends and I were officially in the Youth Choir now.

  The feeling was so wonderful. I looked into the sky, waved to a point far above the stars.

  “Thank you, God! Sorry about trying to skip out on my promise. Thank you for blessing me and my family.”

  I went inside after that and tried really hard not to start worrying about the upcoming Gospel Jamboree.

  Or having to sing with the big kids.

  Or about what might happen between Daddy and Miss Clayton.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I realized that learning to be strong didn’t mean changing everything. I curled into Lyra and snuggled into her warm snores. In the key of G.

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