Sunlight and Shadows

by Christine Cross

  *****

  Six months had passed since Tom and Nita had been arrested. During that time, Esther had testified against them in court for both the theft she had been imprisoned for, and being held against her will in their condo. They were also charged with conspiring to murder her and were each given a forty-five-year sentence.

  “I always knew Tom had something to do with it,” Ellen said as they all relaxed on the beachfront in Daytona. “I just wish I had found him sooner. You spent ten years in that prison for something you never did.”

  “I know, Ellen. But we can’t change the past. We can only move on in the present and plan a better future. At least I found God in that place, and that is one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

  “And what’s the other best thing, darling?” Jesse asked teasingly as he looked into Esther’s eyes with adoration.

  “Meeting you of course, Jesse. And being here, helping out with the women who come here. Women whose lives have been transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. I really must admit I’ve finally found some happiness and a sense of belonging here.”

  “You really do belong here Esther, much more than you can ever realize. So I was wondering if you still want that Winnebago at the end of the year, or if you want me and what’s in this little box?”

  To Esther’s amazement Jesse pulled out a dark blue jewelry box from his shirt pocket.

  “Open it,” he said, with tenderness in his voice.

  Inside lay a large diamond surrounded by sparkling blue sapphires.

  “Oh, Jesse, I don’t know what to say. It’s absolutely beautiful!”

  “I think that yes is the word I’m longing to hear. Esther, I’m asking you to marry me and stay here as my wife. Maybe we can go on a honeymoon together in the Winnebago?”

  Tears of joy began to cloud over Esther’s eyes. With trembling fingers she put the ring onto her left hand ring finger stunned that it was a perfect fit.

  “Of course I’ll marry you!”

  Throwing herself into his arms, Esther felt for the first time the softness of his lips. For a moment time stood still as Esther lingered in the magic of the moment.

  “Hold on you two. Can’t you wait until the honeymoon?” Ellen asked, enthralled that finally Esther had found a man who not only loved her, but who would never deceive her as Tom had.

  “Well, I think we have a wedding to organize,” said Esther flashing her bright shiny ring in the sunlight.

  Jesse nodded as he picked her up and led her down to the sea.

  “How about we get married here, right here on this beach.”

  Esther looked around her. Behind her was Jesse’s mansion solid and safe. In front of her was the vastness of the emerald blue ocean. All she could think of was that she was finally free of the prison walls that had kept her locked inside for ten long years.

  “I think that’s a perfect idea, Jesse.”

  And he kissed her again! “So where did you want to go for that honeymoon?”

  Esther giggled longing to kiss him again and again. “Anywhere. As long as we’re together, it could be anywhere!”

  THE END

  Bonus Story 13 of 20

  Music from Heaven

  Joanie

  The practice rooms were not soundproof. They were supposed to be. And in a college renowned for its music program, a college that cost so much to attend every year, you would think that they would be attentive to this detail. But, every year the music students at St. Thomas University were disappointed.

  No one bothered complaining anymore. They’d become used to the cacophony of sound issuing from all of the plain white rooms in turn.

  As Joanie Meeks walked through the narrow hallway, she no longer winced at the trumpeter blaring loudly, or the not quite accomplished violinist sliding his way down the instrument making a caterwauling sound that would send most people running from the building while covering their ears.

  She passed all of these with a preoccupied frown on her face. Her hands twisted anxiously in front of her and her large brown eyes darted from one closed practice room to the next.

  Joanie knew which room she was looking for. She had suggested it. It was room twenty-three at the end of the narrow hallway. But any passerby who happened to see her at that moment, glancing around corners, would assume that she was hopelessly lost.

  Joanie often looked hopelessly lost on this campus. A fact that she was well aware of but unable to correct. The fact was, she often felt out of place here. And it wasn’t just because she’d only been accepted to the famed St. Thomas University School of Music conditionally.

  The truth was, she’d had her doubts about coming here at all. St. Thomas University was a large campus with utilitarian buildings, surrounded by a small town that was more bleak than charming.

  They did have an excellent vocal performance program, as Joanie’s mother kept reminding her. But, to be accepted into that program, Joanie would have to audition at the end of her first semester. And that was approaching much faster than Joanie liked to think.

  At least, she had found an accompanist. Noah Harding had agreed to practice with her on her music once a week and play for her at lessons. He would be waiting for her in room twenty-three. That should have made her relieved, but she discovered that it only increased her anxiety.

  She had never been good at meeting new people. The social anxiety she’d been diagnosed with as a child often forced her to mumble and blush or else not speak at all. That was why new people had a tendency to think she was arrogant or cold. The fact that anyone thought that of her only made her more anxious, continuing the horrible cycle.

  Trumpets and violins still played in her ears when she reached room 23. She felt her heart begin to pound when she saw the light on. Her pulse increased when she heard the piano being played inside the room, mixed with the din of the violin and the trumpet.

  She could feel the sweating of her palms and an overwhelming urge to run outside, text the pianist that she couldn’t make the practice and insist they communicate only through email until the day of her audition.

  Telling herself firmly to stop being so stupid, she straightened her shoulders lifted her head and opened the practice room door, letting the sound of the piano fully out into the hallway.

  As she stepped inside the room, closing the door behind her, she fully expected the pianist to turn around. The door was fairly loud and made a thudding sound as it closed, which caused even Joanie to jump.

  The tall, brown haired man sitting at the piano, his back to her, didn’t turn. He didn’t stop playing; didn’t offer any acknowledgment that he’s noticed anyone else come into the room.

  His fingers continued to pass over the keys as though he were in some sort of trance. His body swayed and moved right along with the slow, melodic sound he was calling out from the piano.

  All anxiety and caution abandoned in favor of curiosity, Joanie moved from the doorway to the side of the piano, the better to see him.

  Once again, he did not look up. It was as though he hadn’t noticed her but Joanie couldn’t see how that was possible, between the closing of the door and her moving into his line of sight.

  All the same, he kept on playing this slow, soothing music. Joanie’s eyes traveled from his short but slightly floppy brown hair down his long face to his hands. They skipped carefully over the keys, barely touching them to issue the music forth.

  His light, elegant touch made her think of a magician, waving his hand and bringing magic out with just a word.

  When the music ended, she almost wanted to clap but, in the end, she didn’t dare disturb this solemn sort of silence that had fallen over the room. The man at the piano still hadn’t noticed her, though she was standing very near him.

  When he picked up his music and made several notes on it with his pencil, she knew she would have to announce her presence. That thought caused her anxiety to come back two fold.

  Still, she straightened her shou
lders and forced it aside as she offered a little cough, hoping to be acknowledged.

  At this small sound, he looked up from his music. When his dark blue eyes landed on her, they widened in surprise and, perhaps, a hint of embarrassment.

  “How long have you been there?” he asked.

  Joanie was taken aback when his tone sounded slightly accusatory.

  “A-a few minutes,” she stammered. “I didn’t want to interrupt. I’m Joanie. We talked online about meeting here?”

  He looked at her a moment, eyes narrowed as though deciding whether or not he should trust her. Finally, he gave her a little nod but did not smile or offer a hand in greeting.

  “Noah,” he said. “Sorry about that. When I start playing I guess I get a little carried away.”

  “I don’t mind,” Joanie said quietly. “I was enjoying it. What was it?”

  “Chopin,” he said, “his sonata in E minor.”

  He turned from her and gathered his music, setting it lovingly down in his bag. She watched his hands touch the sheets almost the same way they’d touched the keys on the piano, with a gentle reverence that went completely against the rough voice he spoke with.

  When he emerged from his bag, he turned to her. His face was once again set in a neutral frown and all the gentleness with which he had handled his music was gone.

  “Do you have copies of your music for me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Joanie said hastily rooting through her bag. His tone made her feel even more nervous. It was almost as though he was a teacher asking for her homework assignment.

  Hastily, she took out her pages and handed them to him. He flipped through them absently. She did note that her arias, folk songs, and musical theater pieces were treated with less reverence than his Chopin was.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to give you a chance to practice them first,” she said falling back on an old habit. She tended to find something to apologize for when there was silence in a room. Over the years, she realized that “sorry” had become her default word.

  “It’s fine,” he said with a wave of his hand as he lazily examined the first piece. A Mozart Aria from Don Giovanni.

  “I’ve played this one a million times before,” he said. “The others don’t seem too difficult. What do you want to start with?”

  Well, he certainly didn’t waste any time. Though truth be told, Joanie didn’t mind that much. She had never been good at small talk and preferred to avoid it when possible. This quick business-like attitude Noah Harding seemed to adopt suited her fine.

  “I guess we’ll start with the Mozart,” she said, feeling a little more at ease.

  They got through three of Joanie’s pieces before the hour they had agreed to was done. She was again pleased when instead of giving her a million suggestions as to what to do with the tempo or her voice as other accompanists had, he simply played.

  He asked her the occasional question about tempo or whether or not she wanted to do a section over again. But it was clear he was not entirely invested in the answers to these questions, or even in the questions themselves. It was as though she was completely in charge and he was simply a tool she was using to practice.

  Though, truth be told, even when she was trying to focus on her voice, where to breathe, where to carry a note, where to put the ornamentation on, she still couldn’t help but be fascinated by the way he played.

  He played all of her pieces, even the ones he was playing for the first time, with the same kind of gentle abandon she’d seen when she walked in. At one point, when there was an instrumental break in one of her more contemporary pieces, she simply stared down at his hands moving across the keys, skipping over them like a child would skip across rocks in a stream.

  “Do you want to try that entrance again?” he asked.

  She jumped when she realized he had stopped playing and she had, clearly, missed her entrance. Shaking her head to clear it and feeling heat race to her face, she tried to smile at him as she nodded yes.

  “Ok,” he said looking at her curiously. “We’ll start at measure twelve if that’s ok with you.”

  “Sure, that’s good,” she heard herself say. Though, she was certain that her voice would be very shaky after her small slip.

  It was. In fact, her voice seemed to be rough the rest of the night. Noah was kind enough not to mention it to her.

  When the hour was finished, Joanie was very much looking forward to going home and curling up with a cup of throat-soothing tea.

  “I know you’ve got your lesson on Wednesday,” Noah said. “I’ll meet you here for that.”

  “Thanks,” Joanie said. “It’ll be nice to have someone who can actually play here.”

  “Voice teachers aren’t meant to be pianists too, I guess,” he said. “Too much to remember.”

  “I never thought about it that way,” Joanie said. “Maybe that’s why I never learned piano.”

  “Did you take lessons?” Noah asked casually as he gathered his bag and placed his copies of her music inside.

  “When I was little,” Joanie answered. “My mom wanted me to learn. I was never very good at it.”

  “Harder than it looks,” Noah said roughly as he moved towards the door. Joanie followed his lead.

  “It is,” she agreed. “Not like singing. Everyone can sing.”

  “That’s not true,” he said. He turned out the light and locked the practice room door as Joanie watched him from the hallway.

  “Everybody can sing. Not everyone can sing well,” he said. “That’s why it’s so hard to get into this school. That’s why you’re here and dozens of other people aren’t.”

  “Well, I’m not in the vocal performance program yet,” she told him. “I only got in the music program provisionally. I’ve got to audition again for vocal performance.”

  “Even so,” he said, “that makes you better than most people out there. You do realize that, don’t you?”

  He looked her straight in the eye and though he didn’t smile, she had a feeling her answer to this question was a thousand times more important to him than the questions he’d asked her earlier about tempo changes.

  “I guess I do,” Joanie told him. “But, it’s not always easy to remember.”

  “Hmm,” was all he said.

  She couldn’t be sure if that was a murmur of agreement or accusation. It bothered her all the way down the stairs. It bothered her even more that he didn’t speak at all as they exited the building together. She tried to think of ways to break the silence but couldn’t come up with any.

  Finally, as they stopped in front of the music college across the street from the practice building, Noah turned to her.

  “So, should we practice in the same place next week?” he asked.

  Joanie was about to agree before she remembered the church choir.

  “Actually,” she said tentatively, “I have rehearsals for church choir between six and seven on Tuesdays. They’re starting again next week.”

  “Would you rather practice another day?” he asked.

  She knew she couldn’t. Every other weekday was filled with study sessions, bible studies or night classes. Her mother would have said the bible studies were superfluous. But, Joanie wouldn’t give them up for anything. Taking time to study the bible during the week was the only thing that got her through.

  That’s when she had an idea.

  “Do you know where the old church at the back of campus is?” she asked.

  “I think so…” Noah answered, sounding oddly hesitant.

  “We rehearse there. They’ve got a really nice piano and I’m sure the director would let me stay late for an hour to practice,” she said. “Do you think we could meet there at eight and practice until nine?”

  When Joanie looked at Noah, he seemed more than a little hesitant. Though he was trying his best to hide it, his eyes had gone a little wider and his face a little paler than it was just a few moments before.

  “Are you sure you
can’t do it any other day?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she answered, “I’m booked solid.”

  “And you can’t make it over here by eight thirty?” he asked.

  “It would be a ways to walk,” she said. “And I’m a little nervous about walking by myself after dark.”

  He nodded in understanding but still looked as though he wasn’t sure how to answer her.

  “If you want to do it earlier, we can probably meet at the church around six, before choir.”

  “No,” he said. “No, eight’s fine. I’ll be there.”

  Though he agreed, Joanie still felt there was something slightly strange about his reluctance to practice in the church. She tried to set the feelings aside as they said goodbye and walked off in separate directions.

  Joanie’s dormitory was just across the street from the music building which, really, was why she had chosen it. There was certainly nothing else to recommend the building that looked like a gray, concrete prison structure.

  As she wandered through the lobby and up the steps to her, thankfully, empty room (her roommate had moved out after the first two weeks), she wondered, not for the first time why she was here.

  After all, this wasn’t her first choice of college. Sure, it was a wonderful music school but, it was so... big. There were nearly thirty thousand students and she always felt as though she was getting lost in the crowd. That’s not to mention the academic work, which she had always dreaded.

  Truth be told, if her mother hadn’t pressed her to apply here and then pressed Joanie to go here when she got accepted, she wouldn’t have come at all. Honestly, Joanie wasn’t even sure she was meant to be in college. At least not one like this.

  When she got into her room, she flopped down on her bed and stared at the small cross she’d hung on her wall. She’d lost count of how many times she’d lain on her bed and prayed to God while looking at that cross. She always prayed the same thing. Please, God. Show me what I’m supposed to do. Show me why I’m here.

  She hadn’t gotten an answer yet, at least not one that she could discern. Tonight, as she looked at the cross, Noah’s words kept coming back to her. “You’re better than most people. You know that, don’t you?”