Shenandoah Christmas. Lynnette Kent
dreams she sensed but couldn’t remember, and woke to the smell of coffee. That meant she’d overslept and left Anna and David to get their own breakfast. Of course, ten-thirty was very early on a Saturday morning for most musicians she knew to be out of bed. Cait considered this just one more example of the way she would never fit in with the normal, everyday routine her sister lived. Not to mention Ben Tremaine.
Why bring him up, anyway?
She found Anna alone at the table in the cozy kitchen, looking as if she hadn’t slept very well.
“Everything okay?” Cait poured herself a mug of coffee. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Cait blinked at the unusual sharpness in Anna’s tone. “You look tired, is all.”
Her sister took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I guess you’re right—I am tired.”
“Maybe we should have stayed home last night.”
“I’m as tired of staying home as anything else.” Again, the harshness in her usually gentle voice.
“Well, okay. I’ll send you out on my next concert tour. You can ride all day and sleep in two or three hour snatches and eat lousy food two meals out of every three. I’ll stay here and—”
Anna laughed, as Cait had hoped she would. “I get the message. The grass is always greener.” She stared into her orange juice for a minute, then looked up as Cait sat down with her coffee and a sweet roll. “So what do you think about the Christmas pageant?”
After talking with Ben, she hadn’t given the pageant any thought at all. But she didn’t need to. “I’m not the person to be in charge of a program like that. And you know it.”
“I know you think so. I’m not convinced you’re right.”
“You need somebody who believes in—what’s the phrase?—‘the reason for the season.’”
Anna lifted her eyebrows. “Are you an atheist now?”
“N-no.” Cait crumbled a corner of her roll. “But that’s theology. Your program should have a director who likes Christmas.”
“Sweetie, it’s been ten years. Don’t you think you could start to forgive him?”
The unmentionable had just been mentioned. “Has he forgiven me?”
Now her sister avoided her gaze. “We…don’t talk about you.”
Cait nodded. “Because I ceased to exist for him the second I refused to do what he told me to. What kind of father treats a child that way?”
“He wanted so much for you—”
“Without ever bothering to find out what I wanted for myself. And then he chose Christmas—of all times—to force a showdown.”
“I’m sure he’s sorry.”
“I’m not sure of that. But I’m not sorry, either. He handed me the career I wanted by making it impossible for me to do anything else. If he can’t live with my choice, can’t connect with me in spite of our differences, then—” she shrugged “—that’s his choice.”
Anna sighed. “Okay, forget about Dad. The Goodwill Christmas pageant would be a one-time commitment for you. Is that too much to ask?”
“I wouldn’t be any good at it, Anna. I could go through the motions, but that wouldn’t produce the results you want.”
“You won’t even try?”
“I can’t just try something like this. I either do it, or I don’t. And I really would rather not.” She took a fortifying sip of coffee. “There are other churches in town. One of their choir directors could organize the pageant.”
“Mrs. Boringer at the Methodist Church is sixty-five and has really bad arthritis.” Anna ticked off one finger. “John Clay, the Catholic priest, leads their singing, but he won’t take on a project like this. And Lou Miller just accepted a job in a big church in Dallas, leaving the Baptists without a choir director at all. Our church is the only hope for this season. If we don’t do it, Goodwill won’t have a pageant…for the first time in forty-eight years.”
“So let David—”
“David doesn’t sing. You know that. We have to have somebody who sings.”
Cait saw the anxiety in Anna’s face, the tension in her hands wrapped around the mug of tea. This kind of stress couldn’t be good for the baby. And it would kill Anna to lose another baby.
But…just the thought of involving herself in a Christmas pageant was enough to make her head pound and her stomach cramp. Cait closed her eyes for a second, swallowed back bile, then wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama pants.
“Look, let’s do this.” A deep breath. “I’ll get them started on Christmas songs. The story’s still the same, right?” She watched Anna summon up a small smile. “Meanwhile, you can ask around, find a mom or a dad who’s willing to do the actual staging and directing. And, who knows, maybe by the middle of December your baby will be here and you can direct the pageant yourself.”
Anna shook her head. “This isn’t something we can put together in two weeks. Costumes, scenery, everybody learning their lines…”
The details made Cait shudder. “First things first. We’ll start with the music.”
And if I’m lucky, she thought, the music is as far as I’ll have to go.
THE ADULT CHOIR sang for the first time under Cait’s direction in church on Sunday. Three sopranos, two altos and four men was not a very large group, but they all had pleasant voices, strong enough for the old familiar hymn she’d arranged and rehearsed with them.
After the service, it seemed that every member of the small church stopped at the organ to compliment her. “What a pleasure,” Karen Patterson said. “I’m so glad you’re here to help us all out.” She had her arm around her daughter Brenna, Maddie Tremaine’s friend. “Brenna loves what you’re doing with her choir.”
“I have a good time with them, too.” Cait smiled at Brenna. “They sing very well for such a young group.”
Gray-eyed Brenna ducked her head, hiding a pleased smile.
“That was just lovely.” Peggy Shepherd put her arm around Cait’s waist. “I almost called out ‘Encore!’ But I thought David might be insulted.”
Cait grinned. “The sermon is supposed to be the main point, I think.” Her father had always delivered powerful, intelligent—and often intimidating—messages. As far as she knew, he was still preaching, still cautioning his parishioners against the dangers of stray thoughts and wayward deeds.
“A fine song,” Harry Shepherd added. “One of my favorites.”
“That was beautiful, Miss Caitlyn!” Maddie appeared suddenly in the midst of the gathering. “Can we sing that song in our choir?”
“Maybe you could. The melody, anyway.” Cait felt, rather than saw, Ben Tremaine come to the edge of the group. He stood to her right, just out of her line of sight. She wanted to turn to greet him, but couldn’t get up the nerve.
Maddie swung on her arm. “Guess what we’re doing this afternoon, Miss Caitlyn.”
“Um…going swimming?”
“Of course not. It’s too cold to swim. Guess again.”
“Building a snowman?”
“There’s no snow.” She said it chidingly, as if Cait should know better. “We’re having a Halloween party. It’s at Brenna’s house, and we get to wear our costumes.”
“That sounds like