Cedar Creek Seasons (20 page)

After a moment, he sat beside her.

She stared at her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“I accept your apology. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He paused. “Taryn also ambushed me after rehearsal. Do you want to hear what I said?”

She nodded.

“I told her that whatever we shared is ancient history, and that I am in love with you.”

In love? With her? After how she’d treated him? The tears flowed again.

His fingers cupped her chin, turning her to look at him.

She burst out laughing then stifled it to keep from waking Zoe again.

Bunny ears flopped on his head once more. And yes, he looked fetching.

S
tanding before her choir, drinking in Easter lily fragrance, Chesca knew she wouldn’t exchange places with anyone in the world.

She’d passed many unfamiliar faces in the congregation as she led the choir procession down the aisle. Now, as she prepared for the downbeat, she sensed the eagerness of her well-prepared musicians to share their faith. She felt the anticipation of the cast at the sanctuary’s door, already raising palms to celebrate the arrival of the King. She rejoiced in the bond between her and the man she loved, both offering their hearts and talents to tell the Savior’s story.

She let her hands fall. The pipe organ’s first notes swelled and swirled, and the choir breathed as one. “Joyful, joyful, we adore thee …”

Easter worship had begun.

Halfway through, Seth exhaled—for the first time since the opening. But things had gone remarkably well. The choir sounded twice its size. The drama troupe surprised even him. Of course, a few glitches occurred. A kid tripped during the Triumphal Entry, but it hadn’t caused a pileup. Stupid balked at leaving the front of the sanctuary, but the lighting guy darkened the stage immediately, and the audience hadn’t noticed. The Gethsemane scene had radiated even more pathos than it usually did. Now Matt, pantomiming the disciple Peter’s denial of Christ, snarled at the men who pointed at him. When Jesus turned and gazed at him, Matt bent double, clutching his hair with grief. Seth had coached his friend not to over- or underact this scene, but Matt never had gotten it right.

Today, he did. Seth’s eyes welled up. Matt understood. Deep inside, he understood what it meant to deny Jesus.

The silhouette of Jesus being beaten made Seth want to tackle his tormentors. The crucifixion took his breath away, though he’d seen it many times. Lights dimmed, and the stark metallic clang of a hammer sounded. Bloodred lights came up on Jesus on a wooden cross, the women clinging to his feet and each other. A nearby spotlight shone on Chandler holding Huz’s tether and Zoe, her face buried in Buz’s neck. Even from the back, Seth could see tears glistening on Chandler’s cheek. They weren’t part of the script.

The choir sang “O Sacred Head Now Wounded” and “God So Loved the World” with such subdued power that Seth knelt. The lights faded to black. The silence in the sanctuary resounded with even more meaning than the music.

A minor arrangement of “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today,” played by the organ, tiptoed into the room. Section by section, the choir joined in. Chesca had worked hard to capture harmonies that haunted a scene where, at stage right, the women clustered, weeping. Stage left, the disciples formed a hopeless huddle. As the music changed with a dawn-like effect to major chords, a hooded figure entered backstage, speaking first to the women, then the men. As the music swelled, the people’s eyes widened, they looked terrified, then ecstatic as the figure threw his hood back.

Jesus.

Peter practically lifted him off the ground as children and animals rushed in from both sides. Jesus swung Zoe, who was the smallest, high in his arms, and to the accompaniment of a majestic chorus of “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today,” joined by the audience, the joyous parade wound slowly to the back of the sanctuary.

Seth knew Stupid probably could sing better than he could, but with everyone in the building caught up in worship and the organ shaking the ceiling, he could sing as loud as he wanted. So he did.

“The work you two did was astounding.” Pastor Hoke shook Chesca’s and Seth’s hands. “Have you thought yet about Christmas?”

They groaned in unison then laughed.

“Talk to us in August,” Seth said.

Chesca, clasping his arm, felt almost as if she were standing in a wedding receiving line. Her face warmed as people hugged, congratulated, and thanked them.

Mrs. Metzger, dabbing her eyes, told them she’d never been so moved by a production. “I’m thankful you shared this with us—together.”

Chesca, noting a twinkle amid the tears, said, “You wouldn’t have something to do with that, would you?”

Seth grinned wickedly. “I called her yesterday. She agreed to phone me when you put Zoe to bed.”

Chesca tried to look upset. “Then I guess you are to blame for whatever happens—”

“Absolutely.” Mrs. Metzger kissed her cheek and moved on to shake Pastor Hoke’s hand.

“We appreciate your caring for our daughter.” A birdlike woman with Zoe’s eyes clasped Chesca’s hand.

“Glad we made it back to see her play.” Her husband patted Zoe’s arm.

Chesca almost missed the small but genuine smile his stepdaughter gave him. “I had a good time making Easter eggs with Miss Chesca. And I had fun doing the cantata—except while Jesus was on the cross, Buz peed on my foot.”

Chesca giggled hysterically. She pounded Seth on the back so he could speak again.

Finally he cleared his throat. “Think you’d like to do more Bible dramas, Zoe?”

The girl’s eyes gleamed, but she kept her expression nonchalant. “Yeah, probably.”

After they left, Chesca whispered in his ear, “You’ll be coaching her till graduation.”

“All part of the plan.” He grinned. “If they act out Bible stories, they can’t forget them. Chandler wants to do more, too.”

Matt, heading up a flock of large, hairy people, gripped Seth’s hand. “Thanks, man. This meant a lot to me and”—he gestured toward his entourage—“to my family.” He paused. “Might just come to church next Sunday. Got a few questions.”

“We can do breakfast beforehand.” Seth slapped his back.

“Pancakes at the truck stop? You got it.”

Seth, you are an amazing man
. Chesca watched him talk football with the group, putting them at ease.
And to think, I could have lost him … all because I made an unfounded judgment about him and Taryn
. Chesca still felt her temperature rise at the woman’s name. But Taryn’s absence this morning spoke only too eloquently of her empty life. Chesca decided to pray daily for her. Who could help Taryn? Not her. Not Seth. Perhaps Pastor Hoke knew who or what could reach her.

The congregation gone, Chesca felt ready to collapse. But she and Seth had music, props, and costumes to put away, old carpet to rip out …

“Let’s skip it today.” Seth touched her cheek. “I just want to celebrate Easter with you.”

“And your family.” She’d accepted a last-minute invitation when his folks came through the line.

“Mom said dinner would be ready about one. I’ll take the animals to the farm. Join me?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” She couldn’t believe she meant it, but she did.

“‘Scuse me while I change to jeans.” With no one around, he gave her a
mmm-wa
kiss and dashed off.

She dumped her briefcase in her office then headed for the animal pens. Seth had driven the lambs into the trailer. Now he led Stupid in, giving him an affectionate slap on the rump.

“You’re an excellent donkey herder. One more of your unique talents.”

“Comes in handy when you’re a teacher.” He slammed the trailer doors shut.

Making a beeline for the truck, Chesca forgot about the ice and danced a wild pirouette across the parking lot. Seth grabbed her before she fell, hugging her to him. “Hey, Princess Chesca, are you trying to relive our history?”

“Only if I could skip the last few days.” But she felt like a princess, rescued from danger in his strong arms.

As if cued, he took on his Jingle Bell Prince persona and began to sing, “Jingle bells, jingle all the way.” He carried her to the truck. “A little off-key, right?”

“A little.” She circled his neck with her arms and laid her cheek against his. “But that’s okay. As long as you’re not perfect, I’m in tune with you.”

Rachael Phillips is a freelance writer in Indiana. She is married with three children.

Thank you to my writing partners, who encouraged me and introduced me to Wisconsin. Thanks, y’all. I appreciate Rebecca Germany and Tamela Hancock Murray for believing in my work. Trevor, Eliana, and Samuel, Nana loves you.

For my daughter Rachel, a woman after God’s own heart.

“I will refine them like silver and test them like gold.”
Z
ECHARIAH
13:9

Summer

T
he young receptionist glanced at the computer and nodded. “Welcome. You’re checked in.”

“Thank you.” Claire Parsons took the room key and exited the back door, the warm summer air a stark contrast to the air-conditioned building. She propped her hands on her hips and surveyed the parking lot of the Washington House Inn, searching for her niece. Melissa clambered out of the van and straightened her shirt. Claire angled toward the middle of the pavement. “I’ll help unload suitcases.” She noticed a slender young man leaning against the van’s bumper.

“Not necessary.” Melissa pointed toward the man and flushed. “Brad has offered. He’ll help. Why don’t you wander memory lane.” She smiled. “Seems like that’s what you were doing when we drove into town.”

Claire trailed behind her. “Um-hmm.” She sighed and rotated a ring on her right hand. The broken prong stabbed her palm. “But I’d be glad to help.”

“You’ll have an opportunity to hawk wares this weekend. Right now I have all the muscles necessary.” As they approached the car, Melissa tilted her head. “Aunt Claire, meet Brad Fleming.”

So this was Melissa’s young man she’d heard so much about—and the real reason her niece wanted to come to Cedarburg. She held out her hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Brad. When Melissa told me you were from Cedarburg, I knew you must be special.”

Brad shook her hand with slim fingers and a light grip.
Muscles?
Claire’s lips twitched and she bit back a chuckle. She shrugged and dangled the extra key toward Melissa. “You win.”

Melissa grasped the key, her eyes never leaving Brad’s face.

Claire smiled. “I’ll meet you for lunch. My treat.”

The couple gave no indication they heard, so Claire pulled her purse from the front seat and strolled through the hive of activity on Washington Avenue. Cedarburg’s Strawberry Festival weekend drew tourists from all over, eager to purchase unique arts and crafts and sample strawberry delicacies. Her mouth watered at the thought of chocolate-dipped strawberries, strawberry shortcake, strawberry scones, strawberry jam on those strawberry scones. Her stomach rumbled.