Songs of Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  Chapter Five

  AMANDA WOKE UP ON SUNDAY MORNING TO FIND THE world covered in a soft blanket of snow. It was hard to leave her warm, cozy bed, but she forced herself out from under the covers. She had to get to church well before the service began, snow or no snow, and she rushed to get ready. She grabbed a travel mug of coffee and a muffin, then dashed out to clean off her car.

  As she drove toward the village, a few flakes still drifted down from lavender-gray clouds that hung low in the sky. Even a light snow like this would keep many people home this morning, and she didn’t expect the pews to be filled. Which was a good thing, from her point of view, today being her big debut as music director.

  She should have practiced the organ piece she was going to play during the offering. She had hoped to run through it a few times before the service began, but could see that wasn’t going to happen now. It was more important to warm up the choir and have them practice their songs a few times. She was curious to see if they remembered the points she had tried to drill into them during the rehearsal.

  Amanda didn’t expect anyone in her family to be at church today. Molly had to work this morning. The wave of Christmas parties her company catered was just starting. Her father had wanted to come, but Betty had a cold and he thought she should stay in all day so she wouldn’t miss school on Monday.

  Her aunt Jessica and uncle Sam were there, of course, since Sam was the head deacon and Aunt Jess was in the chorus. They would provide more than enough cheerleading, Amanda was sure. She felt nervous and wasn’t sure why. She had played for much tougher audiences. She wasn’t even really in the spotlight, just a supporting player. But members of the congregation would be watching to see how well she did her new job, that was for sure.

  Most of the choir members had arrived by the time Amanda got there. She herded them into the sanctuary and managed to squeeze in a quick rehearsal. Then it was time for them to put on their robes and prepare for their entrance.

  She saw Reverend Ben greeting members of the congregation as they came in. “Good morning, Amanda. Ready for your first service?”

  Amanda forced a smile. “I think so.”

  He patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, it will be fine. I’ve made the biggest gaffes in church history up there. No one seems to notice.”

  Amanda had a feeling he was just saying that to make her feel better. Funny thing was, it worked.

  Reverend Ben peered into the sanctuary, then checked his watch. “I think we can start. I’ll collect the choir. You settle in and play the opening music, then let me know when you’re ready to start the entrance hymn.”

  Amanda nodded, feeling suddenly nervous again. She walked into the sanctuary and headed up the side aisle. The pews were not filled, but there were many more in attendance this morning than she had expected.

  She had to check the organ first and purposely kept her head down as she adjusted the stool and arranged her music. She knew that everyone wished her well—all the people who were sitting out there and had watched her grow up in this church. But looking at any of them would be distracting right now. And she felt distracted enough.

  Then she went over to the piano, where she had to play the introit, “We Wait and Hope for the Lord.” She would be switching back and forth between the piano and organ several times during the service, and hoped she wouldn’t forget any of her cues.

  She started with some incidental music, a classical piece to set the mood for spiritual contemplation. It was a good way for her to warm up at the instrument, too. She was glad to be starting at the piano, where she had more confidence. She wasn’t very comfortable at the organ. She barely knew how to work all the knobs and pedals and pretty much dreaded moving over there later.

  When she had finished the mood-setting piece, she turned and glanced over her shoulder, looking for Reverend Ben. Her gaze never quite reached the spot, snagged instead by the sight of Gabriel Bailey, who sat in one of the rear pews. He looked straight at her and smiled, then nodded encouragingly.

  She met his gaze a moment and couldn’t help smiling back.

  Did he usually come to church, or had he come because he knew it was her first Sunday?

  She noticed a teenage boy sitting next to him, looking like a lankier, gawkier version of Gabriel. A younger brother? Had to be, she thought. She liked the mature version better, but it was fun to see what Gabriel must have looked like in high school. Still pretty cute, she thought.

  She quickly looked for Reverend Ben again and saw him at the sanctuary doors. The choir stood behind him, lined up in two neat rows. He lifted his hand and she turned back to the keyboard. She sat up straight, took a breath, and said a silent prayer: Please help me do a good job up here, God, and let the music touch everyone who’s come to church today and help them feel closer to You.

  She struck down hard on the opening chords and felt, rather than saw, the congregation sit up and take notice, their scattered attention fully focused on the music and the procession of the choir to the altar.

  The sanctuary filled with sound as the choir began to sing, moving in a stately procession down the center aisle, their red robes rustling, followed by Reverend Ben in his white cassock and bright blue vestment.

  He sang, too, his strong tenor voice filling out the blend of voices nicely. He took his place in front of the altar as the choir climbed into the risers and completed the piece. They did a good job, Amanda thought, feeling encouraged.

  The service began with the call to worship and opening prayers. It was soon time for the choir to sing “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”

  Amanda was a little nervous. The brief rehearsal before the service had not assured her that this more complicated arrangement was going to work. She wondered now if she should have left well enough alone and not tried to challenge them.

  But when the moment came to start the hymn, she met Frank’s gaze with a confident nod and conducted with one hand while her other rested on the silent piano keys. His deep, unaccompanied voice seemed to fill the sanctuary, stilling every other sound as he sang the opening lyrics.

  Her glance flew next to Claire, who was standing and ready for her part. She came in right on cue, her voice exceptionally clear and strong. She had practiced and it showed, and Amanda was grateful for that effort.

  Amanda signaled, and the rest of the group rose, singing the chorus in unison as she struck the chords on the piano. They moved through the rest of the verses with a flub or two, but did manage to keep up the energy.

  Amanda had sung the hymn herself many times without ever really thinking about the words or their meaning. Now, as the voices blended and lifted, she felt something inside of her lift, too. The choir seemed imbued with a special energy. It wasn’t just their colorful robes or Sunday smiles. It was something inside them, coming through, in their expressions, in their eyes. Something in their hearts shining through. It was real spirit, Reverend Ben might say. When the final notes of the song sounded, with only Frank and Claire ending the hymn with their unaccompanied voices, Amanda sat back with a small but amazed smile.

  The congregation was silent a moment, then broke into applause. Which Reverend Ben did not normally encourage, but did permit on special occasions, and from his broad smile, Amanda could tell this was one of them.

  “Fine job, choir. Thank you very, very much,” he said heartily.

  Amanda kept her gaze down on the piano keys and music. Then she stole a glance at the choir members, who beamed with pride. They did a wonderful job and moved the congregation, she realized. And I helped them.

  That was the high point of the service for her. The rest went by in a blur and with a few missteps. Finding herself at the piano when she should have been at the organ and losing her place a moment in one of the hymns. But the seasoned choir members picked up her slack. Sophie Potter, who sat close to the piano, cast her more than one encouraging look. Most other members were understanding, too. Vera Plante did seem disgruntled at one point, but you can’t wi
n them all, Amanda reflected.

  She was greatly relieved when the congregation rose with their hymnals in hand, ready to start the closing song, “Watchers, Tell Us of the Night.” Reverend Ben sang along for a while, then walked to the back of the sanctuary to give his closing blessing.

  Amanda played a few bars of incidental music, and the service was over. “Amen,” she sighed quietly as she finally stood up from the piano.

  As the sanctuary quickly emptied, Amanda accepted a few words of congratulations from choir members. Sophie, of course, was the first. “Good job, Amanda. You play so well. It’s a pleasure to sing along.”

  Amanda thanked her, thinking how good-hearted Sophie was, always lifting others up with a kind word or compliment.

  “Lovely solo, Frank,” Amanda said as their bass star walked by.

  “Thank you for asking me, Amanda. I think your idea worked out very well. Very creative,” he added. “I hope we can do more interesting arrangements.”

  “I hope so, too,” Amanda replied.

  Her aunt Jessica bounded down from the risers and gave her a hug.

  “Your mom told me to text her right away,” she admitted. “I’m sending a great review.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Jess.” Considering how close her family was, and how all of them belonged to this church, Amanda had no doubts that a full report would reach her parents before she even got home.

  Her uncle Sam waved from the other side of the sanctuary and managed to give her a thumbs-up, though his arms were full of pine boughs. The deacons were staying after the service today and decorating the church. Jessica walked over to join him and gather up Amanda’s three cousins.

  Amanda picked up her music and headed for the choir room. Reverend Ben was still at the back of the sanctuary, speaking to a group of church members. She glanced around at the back pews, hoping to see Gabriel still there, but he was already gone. Oh well, no big deal, she told herself. But she did feel a little let down.

  “Nicely done, Amanda,” Reverend Ben said as she walked by.

  Amanda smiled and thanked him, then quickened her pace toward the choir room. She put her things away quickly and grabbed her coat. A few of the singers were still there, slipping out of their robes before they headed off for the rest of their day. They offered their congratulations, and their words of praise made Amanda feel good, even though she knew there was room for improvement. At least she had her first service under her belt. The rest had to be easier.

  As she passed through the big sanctuary doors, the chilly air felt refreshing. The clouds had cleared, and bright sunlight sparkled on the pure white snow that covered the village green. Amanda decided to walk across the green and stop in at her mother’s shop. She was sure Molly would appreciate a full, firsthand report of the service, if she was there. If she was already out working at a party, Amanda decided she could at least get something good to eat for lunch.

  She had barely walked a few steps down the path when she felt a big wet splat on her back. A snowball? She turned and looked around but couldn’t spot the culprit.

  “Whoops . . . sorry, lady!” a male voice shouted out.

  Before she could catch sight of him, a more familiar face popped out from behind a nearby tree.

  “Amanda! . . . That was meant for me.” Gabriel was suddenly standing beside her, brushing snow off her coat.

  “Oh, it’s all right. It’s just snow.” She turned toward him, and their faces were very close. His cheeks were red from the frosty air, and his eyes looked very bright.

  He was starting to answer when another snowball—flying at lightning speed—hit him on the back and pushed him toward her. He had to grip her arm to keep from falling over.

  Loud laughter sounded from across the green. “Got you that time!”

  “Cheap shot!” Gabriel shouted back. Now Amanda could see their nemesis, who was also hiding behind a tree. Gabriel’s brother, of course, whom she had seen earlier in church. He had scooped up more snow and was already packing another missile.

  “Uh-oh . . . Quick, get behind the tree again.” Gabriel tugged her arm and pulled her behind a nearby tree. Just in time, too, as big snowballs pelted the other side of the trunk.

  “Looks like we’re under attack,” Amanda said quietly.

  “I think so. Time to reload and defend ourselves.” Gabriel scooped up some snow and began making a snowball.

  “Two against one? That’s not fair,” Amanda objected.

  “Don’t worry. He’s got a friend over there,” Gabriel replied, squinting toward their opponents. “Here’s the plan. You sneak up that path and get closer. I’ll walk out, as the decoy. When they show themselves, hurl your snowballs with all you’ve got.”

  Amanda nodded and began making some snowballs of her own. She wasn’t that athletic and hadn’t been in a snowball fight for years, but she hoped she could complete this simple assignment.

  She pulled up the hood on her coat and quickly trotted up the side path. When she was closer to Gabriel’s brother, she turned and looked back.

  Gabriel nodded and then, somewhat theatrically, stepped out from cover and ran to the middle of the green. “Okay, guys, I’m coming for you,” he called out. “Come out and fight like real men . . .”

  Gabriel’s brother and his friend suddenly jumped out from their hiding places, too. Before they could bombard Gabriel, Amanda tossed snowballs with both hands and managed to hit her target both times. Then she jumped behind a tree again.

  The teenagers stared around in surprise, looking for her, and then Gabriel got them, too.

  Then they realized they’d been tricked and pelted him. He tried to get away, but he was laughing so hard, his feet slipping in the snow, he could barely run to her tree and hide with her. But he finally made it, just in time. He stood very close beside her as the other side of the tree trunk was bombarded with snowballs.

  “Good job. You should have seen my brother’s face. I’m glad you’re on my side.”

  “Just a lucky shot,” she admitted. She wanted to look out from behind the tree but didn’t dare. “How long do you think they’re going to keep that up?”

  The snowballs were still flying, but quite a few missed the tree and landed near their feet, or even behind them.

  “Knowing my brother . . . they could be out there until spring.” He slowly leaned over and waved a gloved hand. “Okay . . . truce?” The snowballs kept coming. Gabriel reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his key ring, then waved it.

  “You can borrow the truck,” he called out.

  The snowballs suddenly stopped. “Really?”

  Gabriel put his head around the tree. “For an hour. And don’t do anything stupid.”

  Amanda felt safe enough now to finally step out from behind the tree, too.

  “That’s pretty generous of you. Or desperate,” she added.

  “We were supposed to go over to some sports store for a new basketball. He can go with his buddy. A small price to pay,” he added.

  “Very clever,” she replied.

  “I thought so,” he said with a smug but charming smile.

  The two boys had run toward them through the snow. Now Gabriel’s brother grabbed the keys and shot him a victorious grin. “An hour isn’t very long,” he pointed out.

  “If I tell you an hour, you’ll come back in two,” Gabriel said. “Just keep your cell phone on.”

  “Okay, will do. See you later.” The boys dashed off, and Gabriel turned to her.

  “Well, that’s settled,” Amanda said, amused. “But what are you going to do without your truck? Do you need a ride?”

  “I might need a ride,” he answered with a thoughtful expression. “But first, I thought I’d take you to lunch. Unless you have plans?”

  Amanda was surprised by the invitation, and very pleased.

  “Sure. Lunch sounds great.”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  “I don’t know. Anywhere is fine.” She shrugged. “An
ywhere that serves hot chocolate,” she amended.

  “Good point. Hot chocolate is definitely required after a snowball battle. I think it’s a state law now.” His serious tone made her laugh again. “Let’s see . . . How about the Clam Box? They definitely serve hot chocolate . . . and it’s definitely anywhere. Or even nowhere, some people would say.”

  She found herself laughing again. A light wind off the harbor blew a few strands of her hair across her eyes. She swiped them away with her hand.

  “My parents always took us there right after church when we were in school,” she said. “They used to serve pancakes all day on Sundays, all you can eat.”

  “Same here. That’s what made me think of it. You can’t go wrong with their pancakes.”

  “As opposed to the rest of the menu?” she asked.

  “Exactly.” He nodded and smiled, then met her gaze. His eyes were so blue, as blue as the sky or the water in the harbor. She felt herself blush and hoped he would think it was just the cold air.

  He was dressed for church and looked very different than he did in his work clothes. Though he was more than attractive in either style, she thought.

  “So you belong to this church?” she asked curiously as they began to walk across the green toward town. “I’ve never seen you here.”

  “My family has belonged for a long time, but we were never that regular about attending. On holidays, mostly.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, and their steps fell into sync. “But I’ve been coming more since my dad died. Reverend Ben was a big help to our family when my father passed away. He’s great to talk to, and I like to hear his sermons.”

  Amanda nodded, feeling sad about his loss, though she hardly knew him. “I like his sermons, too. He manages to take spiritual ideas that I never really understood and makes you understand how they apply to your everyday life. It’s hard to explain,” she added, wondering if she had managed it at all. “But I usually get something helpful out of what he says.”

  “I know what you mean. I do, too.”

  They walked along a little farther without talking. They had taken the path that wound along the harbor, and Amanda enjoyed the view. The harbor was empty this time of year, with only a few hardy boats tied up on their moorings—fishing and clamming boats mainly.