She hadn’t been lying when she told him it was often hard to remember that she had talent. Not when her voice teacher was constantly pushing her. Not when she was failing her music theory courses, which were required, even though she really only wanted to sing and would never need to know what parallel fifths were in music or why composers should never write them.
Tonight, as she lay in bed, she asked God to help her remember what Noah had tried to confirm for her tonight. She had talent, she had a purpose. There was a reason she was here. She trusted that, in time, God would show it to her.
*****
Noah
Noah did not want to go into that church.
He stood staring at the whitewashed facade, the plain wood panels, and steeple, dreading what lay on the other side of the simple brown door. It was as though he was afraid to go in, though, he knew that wasn’t it. Not exactly.
Noah liked to pride himself on being afraid of very little. He was certainly never afraid to speak his mind. The dark, heights, bugs did not bother him the way they did some people. Nor was he afraid of more abstract things like failure or rejection. If he were, he would not have made it very far in St. Thomas’s music program.
He told himself that he was not afraid of churches. He just hated them.
It wasn’t the structure itself he disliked, that would be beyond ridiculous. It was the people inside it. The people pretending to be holy or happy or a mixture of the two. People with fake smiles, fake laughs, and fake faith when they were really just as broken as everyone else.
Noah had never been able to stand inauthentic people. He could smell them a mile away and they all looked, smelled, and sounded the same.
That was why he had never liked going to church, even though he had to when he was young. Being the son of a pastor carried responsibilities, and obviously, going to church every Sunday was one of them.
In the early days, Noah dealt with his dislike by learning to play piano. When he was good enough, his father had him play for church services. That made things better. The piano had always calmed Noah; it didn’t matter that he often had to play trite church songs. As long as he got to touch the ivory keys on a true piano, he was happy.
But now, after what had happened this summer, after what he had seen on his father’s phone, he didn’t know if anything could make stepping inside a church for the first time in months bearable. Not even the opportunity to play.
He looked up at the small building one last time. Even outside, there was a slightly different feeling to this building than he felt at his parents’ church. This church felt older, for one thing. But, beyond that, the rotting wooden panels and old-fashioned steeple spoke of a history his father’s modern church did not have. This church, at the very least, looked interesting.
Steeling himself, he squared his shoulders, pushed the creaking wooden door open and walked inside. As soon as he stepped in the door he could hear music being, mostly inexpertly, sung from the front of the room.
Clearly, choir practice had not ended yet. He’d hoped to get here a little late so that he wouldn’t have to talk to any of the other people involved in the church choir with Joanie. The fewer fake Christians he had to speak to, the better.
Cursing himself mentally, he took a seat in the church’s back pew and took out his sheet music. It wouldn’t drown out the sound of the hymn the choir was singing, but it would give him something to do.
Sure enough the hymn, which he now recognized, surged into his ears and began seeping into his mind. He knew it was useless to stop it. The old hymns had a way of doing that.
Before the insipid praise and worship trend took over in “progressive” churches; before music leaders began writing and singing songs that repeated one phrase over and over like a bad tune on a broken record; the hymns sung and played in churches were actually quite beautiful.
This one, in particular, had been one of his mother’s favorites. As he listened to the words, he couldn’t help thinking of her. No matter how hard he stared at the Mozart aria Joanie had given to him, his mother’s voice began to ring in his memory.
“Heart of my own heart, whatever befall. Still be my vision O ruler of all.”
A wave of guilt swept over him as he remembered his mother singing this hymn to him at night. When she was young, she had prayed that God would use Noah in the church. She dreamed that he would be a music minister. Perhaps even a pastor. When he left, she prayed and prayed that he would come back. Noah knew that she still prayed for him to come back even though he had told her it was useless.
Frustrated, he threw the Mozart piece back in his bag and picked up another. One he was less familiar with. One that would take his mind off the song the choir seemed to be going through endlessly.
Desperate for something simple to look at, he sought Joanie in the crowd. She caught his eye and her brown eyes sparkled as she gave him a slightly apologetic grimace, as if to say, “Sorry, we’re almost done”.
He smiled back at her and gave her a casual wave which, he hoped told her that he didn’t mind. Even though he did.
He continued to watch Joanie through the rehearsal. He had to admit, her smile wasn’t fake like the ones he had come to know at his father’s church. It was shy and gentle, but real. Even when she was singing. That, in a subtle way, made her appealing. Beautiful, even.
A sigh of relief came over him when he finally heard the music slow to a stop though he didn’t dare look up. He didn’t want to see the fake smiles or curious looks those people might give him.
“Good work everyone,” a male voice came from the front of the group. “Before we end for the night, let’s close with a prayer.”
An even more uncomfortable gurgle pulsed through Noah’s stomach as he listened to the choir director pray about “lifting their voices to the lord” and “inspiring the congregation with song”.
After what seemed like hours, but was, truly only a few minutes, the director ended with an “Amen”. Noah heard the choir members stand up to leave and decided it was safe to walk up and meet with Joanie.
To his chagrin, she was speaking with the choir director when he caught her eye. When she saw him, she gave him the widest grin he had ever seen from her and beckoned him over.
Doing his best not to wince at the prospect of having to speak to a stranger, and a pastor at that, Noah put on his best neutral expression and walked forward.
“Robert, this is Noah, he’s my accompanist,” Joanie said to the choir director as soon as Noah reached them on the steps. The man, Robert, who was middle aged with balding black hair and a very pointed nose, gave Noah the fake, church smile Noah had come to expect and held out his hand.
“Great to meet you, Noah,” he said. “I’m glad Joanie’s finally found an accompanist. She’s been looking for one for a while.”
“Good to meet you,” Noah mumbled unsure of what else to say.
“Thanks again for letting us use the space,” Joanie said to the pastor. “I really appreciate it.”
“Not at all,” Robert said. “We like to help our soloists out. Just be sure to lock up when you leave.”
“We will,” Joanie said confidently.
Noah felt another surge of relief when Robert didn’t say anything more, simply smiled at them and walked down the aisle and out the front door.
“So, you’re doing that scholarship thing?” Noah asked as he took out his music and arranged it on the piano.
“Yeah,” Joanie answered. Her voice had lost a bit of the confidence Noah had heard only a few minutes ago. Still, she sounded stronger than usual. “I signed up for it as soon as I got here.”
“I guess it’s a reason to go to church,” Noah said, sitting on the piano bench.
“Oh, I would have come anyway,” Joanie said. “I probably would have signed up for the choir even if there wasn’t a scholarship.”
Noah looked at her a little surprised but not completely shocked. This shy, sheltered girl struck him as someone who wou
ld have grown up in a suburb with two parents taking her to church every Sunday. But, he was a bit surprised that she would attend on her own. Even the best church kids tended to fall out of the habit of going in college. They usually favored sleeping in.
“So, I take it you’re a church girl,” he said.
“You could say that,” Joanie answered. “My mom thinks it’s a waste of time. Thinks I should be focusing on my classes instead of religion, but she’s never really understood.”
Noah felt his eyes narrow of their own accord as he looked up at her again. That was more than a little surprising. A young woman deciding to be religious even though her parents apparently weren’t. That was almost the opposite of every rebellion he’d ever heard of.
“So... was it your dad who got you into... all this?” he asked.
“I’ve never met my dad,” she answered. “He left when mom was still pregnant with me. Never bothered trying to get in touch.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he answered awkwardly, now completely wrong-footed. He had always prided himself on assessing people. The fact that he’d gotten two facts about Joanie wrong, even after two meetings, made him more than a bit uncomfortable.
“Don’t be,” Joanie said. “Can’t really miss what you never had.”
He felt his head nod and tried not to pay attention to the slightly sad note in her voice. Despite what she said, he was sure her father’s absence did bother her much more than she let on.
“Well,” he said clearing his throat and trying his best to change the subject, “what would you like to start with?”
Luckily, Joanie seemed just as eager for the subject to change as Noah was. She smiled gratefully.
“How about “The Holy City”?” she asked. “We haven’t done that one yet. Seems appropriate.”
Looking around the church, seeing the simple pews accompanied by a high, vaulted ceiling with several windows glittering with Bible scenes, Noah could see why she would think that. It wasn’t the sort of place to sing Mozart Arias or anything really that didn’t lift the mind to the sacred.
None the less, Noah gave her only a cursory smile and groaned inwardly. It was a long time since he had allowed his mind to be lifted to the sacred. And he vowed that he would never be taken in by the music or the beautiful churches the way his mother had been. She was suffering for it now, in a failed marriage that her faith would not allow her to leave. Noah never wanted to end up like that.
But, he also knew that Joanie was paying him for his time. It was her rehearsal, not his. He would have to play whatever she wanted him to. So, he placed the music on the piano and began the hymn.
It did not take long for him to fall into a familiar rhythm as he pounded the keys. As he continued the introduction, he’d gratefully forgotten that he was playing a piece dedicated to a God that he no longer trusted. It was only Joanie’s voice that brought him back.
When she began to sing this song, she sounded... different. So much so that Noah almost stopped playing to stare at her. He caught himself just in time and managed to keep pace with her voice. All the same, he continued to listen.
Her voice was the same as the voice he had heard when he’d rehearsed with her the week before. It was the same light soprano he’d heard at her lesson. But, singing this song, in this church, she sounded different, stronger. More controlled and yet... freer.
When they finished the piece, Noah was again surprised by another wide grin that spread across her face. He knew he had not seen her smile like that in the music practice building. Either at her lesson or the rehearsal one week before.
“Aren’t the acoustics perfect in here?” she asked, her voice filled with an almost excited sort of wonder. When he looked at her, he saw the same grin reach her eyes, making them dance. He’d never before noticed quite how bright they were.
“Most of these old churches were built to amplify sound,” he said. “So everyone could hear the music.”
“It’s still better than a sound system,” she said, “even though we have them now.”
“Can’t disagree with you there,” he said honestly. “I’ve always liked a natural sound over amplified.”
Maybe it was the acoustics that made Joanie’s voice sound so different in the church. Because it wasn’t only that song, “The Holy City”, that she sounded that way on, it was all of them.
On all four songs, they were able to practice that night, she sounded brighter, freer, more open. Noah would have chalked it up to the acoustics and the more aesthetic setting. After all, the sterile white walls of the music room were not exactly conducive to creative musicality. And Joanie was definitely a creative type. The sort to need visual stimulation before she could create her art.
Yes, he would have thought it was only the changed setting had it not been for the way Joanie acted between songs. She smiled at him now. Not the fake smile that Noah was used to seeing on people in a church. It was a real, genuine, honest to goodness smile.
She laughed, she made jokes, often at her own expense. Once when she missed an entrance, she said:
“That’s twice I’ve done that. You might as well just write into your music that I’ll probably miss and wait for me.”
When she missed the same entrance last week at their rehearsal, she had muttered an apology to him, while her face turned red. Now, her face was still turning a bit red, but, she was not apologizing, she was laughing at herself. Noah, in turn, found himself smiling with her. In fact, he did more smiling that night than he’d done in months. It felt strange.
“That was a good rehearsal,” he said. “You seem to like working in here.”
He collected his music and waited a moment for Joanie to collect hers. When she did, she looked back at him with another smile. This one, he was surprised to find sent a thrill through his chest. That was another thing that felt strange.
“Like I said,” she said, “I like the acoustics in here.”
They moved down the steps of the altar, down the aisle and towards the front door.
“So, can you make it here next week?” she asked. He felt his heart stop in his chest. He had not expected this to be a weekly occurrence. He had thought (hoped) that the church was only a one-time location.
“If... if this really is the only thing that works for you,” he said. “Then, I guess. Yeah.”
“You don’t seem too sure,” she said curiously.
“It’s fine,” he said quickly. Not wanting her to think that it was rehearsing with her that he objected to. “I’m... I’m just not used to playing in a church.”
“Have you never played in a church before?” she asked, again, sounding curious.
“I have,” he said. “Just... not in a while.”
She raised an eyebrow at him and looked even more curious now.
“It’s a long story,” he said.
“Well, thanks for putting up with it, for my sake,” she said with another smile. They opened the door to the church and Noah realized just how dark it was.
“I should get going,” Joanie said. “I’ve still got two assignments for music theory to finish.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Noah said automatically.
“You don’t have to,” Joanie said. The small embarrassed voice he was used to hearing from her slowly returning. “I can make it on my own.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Noah said. “It’s on my way.”
“Ok,” Joanie said, giving him a shy smile. Even though this one didn’t reach her wide, brown eyes, it still sent the strange tingling sensation surging through Noah’s stomach and chest. He tried to force it down as best he could while they walked.
Normally he didn’t mind walking in silence, even when he was with someone. Noah never had been one for mindless chatter or talk about the weather. But now, as he found himself glancing more and more often at Joanie, he couldn’t help but feel the silence more than he ever had before. It was like a palpable tension in the air between them.
Soon, he
found himself searching the sky, looking for something he could remark on. Luckily, Joanie found it first.
“I’ve always wondered what that pink stuff was,” she said pointing towards the horizon where a vaguely pink hue shimmered just over the nearby city. “It’s like it’s part of the sky but not.”
“It’s light pollution,” he said. “The lights from the city make the sky go that kind of pinkish color.”
“Oh,” she said sounding disappointed. “I thought it would be something nicer than that.”
“Just goes to show,” he answered, “not everything that looks nice actually is.”
The silence stretched between them once again and this time, Noah could feel it stronger than before. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything about the pink tinge. Maybe he should have lied and said he didn’t know what it was.
In the end, he wouldn’t have been able to. He never liked lying about things he knew. Still, when he glanced over at Joanie, he could see a thoughtful and vaguely disappointed expression line her face. A stab of guilt flooded through him. It was like he’d taken a tiny strip of her innocence away.
“At least, you can still see the stars,” she said.
Noah almost gave a sigh of relief when the tense silence was broken at last.
“A few of them,” he acknowledged.
“I’ve always tried to pick out constellations,” she said. “The only one I can really be sure of is Orion’s belt.”
“Well, if you can find that, it’s easy to find a few others,” he said, happy to be helpful to her at last. They stopped in front of her dormitory and he followed her gaze upward to the sky.
“You see Orion’s belt, right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said pointing it out. “Well, right across from that is the big dipper. And from the big dipper we can find the north star.”
“Which one is it?” She asked.
“You see the bowl? The two stars on the front line up to always point to Polaris, which is at the end of the handle of the little dipper,” he said.
Sunlight and Shadows Page 42
