Down from the Cross (22 page)

“What?”

“Remember all those appointments I’ve been having lately?”

She nodded. “Yes, but you never told me what they were.”

He freed one hand and rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “There was a very definite reason I chose Providence as the place I wanted to spend the months it would take me to learn the new opera. He stared off into space. “I–I…”

“What, Keene? You can tell me anything. I promise I’ll try not to be upset.”

He walked away, standing with his back to her and gazing off into the night sky, one hand kneading the muscles of his neck. “By the end of last season, I was beginning to notice periods of hoarseness. I had never had them before. They usually occurred after an exceptionally demanding performance or an unusually heavy practice day. At first I thought it might be a viral infection, but it didn’t stop. I went to several doctors, but even with all the testing they did, nothing showed up, and the only advice they gave me was to get more rest and make sure I ate properly.”

“But what did that have to do with Providence?”

“I’m coming to that. My voice is my livelihood. I couldn’t take any chances, so I did some intense research and located a doctor in Rhode Island whose specialty is voice disorders. He was trained at Wake Forest University Baptist Medical Center where the Center for Voice Disorders is located, so the guy really knows his stuff. I’ve been working with him since the first week I arrived in Providence.”

“Has he been able to help you?”

He turned around, facing her, crossing his long arms over his chest. “At this point, I’m not sure. At least he ruled out throat cancer. He’s already done some pretty extensive testing, but until I finished singing
Down from the Cross
and could completely rest my voice for several weeks, we couldn’t go ahead with a full laryngoscopy.”

She stared at him. “A laryngoscopy?”

“He said by performing a laryngoscopy he would be able to detect certain types of lesions if they were present. Like nodules, cysts, papilloma, leukoplakia, and neoplasm. Wow, that’s a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“Could that mean surgery?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Nodules are callouslike masses that form on the vocal folds. He thinks that might be my problem. Though all singers dread them, sometimes asymptomatic vocal nodules don’t seem to cause any singing problems. Usually with nodules, not only do you have hoarseness, but breathiness, loss of range, and vocal fatigue. Other than the little bit of hoarseness, I have had none of those symptoms. I have known many vocalists who had untreated vocal nodules for years and were never bothered by them. The doctor says sometimes, with vocal therapy, they will even shrink or disappear. But—”

He let out a heavy sigh, and she could tell he was trying to make the best of an extremely difficult situation.

She looped her arms about his neck. “God is able to perform miracles, Keene. We both know that.”

“I know. I am counting on it, but I have to admit I was terrified when Dr. Coulter explained all this to me. Now, knowing how much God loves me, well, I can assure you I’m not nearly as frightened as I was.”

“Was it wise of you to perform in our Easter presentation? And you spent so much time practicing each day, too,” she said with concern now that the full extent of what he had told her had finally sunk in.

He grinned shyly. “Most of the practicing for the new opera you heard coming from my room wasn’t me practicing at all, but tapes I had prerecorded of myself practicing before I got here. Since I wanted to ease up on my singing, I stayed in my room listening to the tapes and following along with the music score. I practiced my part in
Down from the Cross
the same way. I recorded it once and then mouthed it over and over until I’d learned the part.”

“I never knew!”

“That’s what I was counting on. I didn’t want you to worry about me.” Taking both her hands in his, he gave them a loving squeeze. “When you came to me, asking me to take Jim Carter’s place, I didn’t want to have to tell you no. And I certainly didn’t want to tell you what I would be facing in the future. I knew if I did, you would never allow me to sing the part of Jesus, and I wanted to sing that part, not just for you, but also for myself. I had never done anything quite like it, and I thought the experience would be a good professional stretch for me. Dr. Coulter said that since I would only be singing several songs and my speaking parts would be limited, it would not hurt to put both the resting period and tests off until after Easter. So it looks like I’m going to be in Providence for a while after all.”

“I was so afraid you’d leave right away.”

“You do realize the laryngoscopy may show there are other problems, problems that could be even more serious than a simple node. I don’t even want to talk about those, but I do want you to be prepared, sweetheart. There is always the possibility that Dr. Coulter will discover something that will require extensive surgery. If that happens, Jane—”

She held her breath.

“If that happens, I may never be able to sing again. The vocal cords and folds are easily damaged during surgery. There are no guarantees.” He blinked and swallowed hard. “My career would be over, and I’d be washed up. Out of a job. I would have to start all over again. Learn a new trade.” His finger idly traced her cheek, his expression one of sadness. “Never be able to sing to my wife.”

Jane couldn’t help but gasp. Never be able to sing again?
Oh, dear Father. No! Surely, You won’t let this happen to Keene!

“Other than my doctor, you’re the only one I’ve told. My agent doesn’t even know.”

She had to do something, say something, to comfort him. Forcing a smile, she cradled his face in her hands and kissed his lips. “Oh, my darling, don’t you know? It’s not your voice I love. It’s you! We’ll see this thing through together, and no matter what the outcome, God will take care of us. You’ll see.”

“I know that’s true, my sweet, sweet Jane. I am at peace about this whole thing now. I have put it in God’s hands. I am trusting in Him and His promises. I want His perfect will for my life. Even… even if it means giving up singing.”

“He’s able to do above all we could ever ask. We have to trust Him.”

“I know that now. With God in control of my life and you at my side, I can face anything. I know very little about the things of God. It’s all new to me, but I want to learn everything about God and His Word. I am sure there will be times I will need your strength and encouragement to help me through, Jane, but I want to be strong for you—the husband you deserve. With God’s help, I will be.”

“I will be at your side, Keene, for as long as I live. God intended a wife to be a helpmeet to her husband. He will never leave you, and neither will I.”

“Does that mean you love me enough to want to spend the rest of your life as my wife? That there’ll be a wedding in our future?”

She gazed up into his eyes, her heart crowding her chest with love for this man. The man she would have dared not believe could one day love her as much as she loved him. “Oh, yes, my dearest. Loving you and knowing you love me is a dream come true.”

“For me, too, Jane. I can’t praise God enough for bringing you into my life.”

Jane Moray sat twisting the lovely diamond wedding band on the ring finger of her left hand. “Mom, can you believe it’s been almost a year since our wedding day?”

Mrs. Delaney smiled at her daughter. “It thrills my heart to see you and Keene so happy.”

“Isn’t he wonderful?” Jane asked as they sat on a front pew of Fort Worth’s spacious Briarwood Community Church. “The Lord has really been able to use Keene in a mighty way since his horrendous throat problems. Only God could have guided Dr. Coulter’s hand and protected Keene’s vocal cords during that intense surgery.”

Mrs. Delaney grasped her daughter’s hand in hers. “Yes, Keene
is
wonderful. He is like the son I never had and always wanted, and he has taken such good care of me. Without him, I never would have been able to afford to have my knees replaced. Now look at me. I can walk without my walker, and I am able to take care of myself while you two go traipsing around the world to all the exotic places where Keene performs. I have a nice place to live only minutes away from your lovely house in Providence, friends to keep me company, and a daughter and son-in-law whom I adore. God has blessed me more abundantly than I ever could have imagined.”

Jane patted her mother’s frail hand. “You know, Mom, the day Keene ran that red light and plowed into me with that heavy car of his, I thought God had forsaken me. The whole side of my little car was caved in, I had a broken leg and a massive bump on my head, was three months behind in my car and insurance payments, out of a job, and I had no idea where the next month’s rent money was coming from or if we’d have food on our table. Now we have a beautiful home, and I’m able to travel with my dear husband as he performs in the opera and gives concerts.” She gave her mother’s small hand another loving pat. “God is good, isn’t He? He has certainly provided well for our needs.”

Mrs. Delaney leaned into her daughter, her face twisted into a mischievous grin. “Maybe someday you’ll fill up that beautiful house with my grandchildren.”

Jane could not contain her smile as her palm flattened against her belly. “Maybe.”

“Don’t wait too long, honey. I want to be around to enjoy them.”

“I won’t, I promise. Keene loves performing as a Christian artist, and he’s already contracted to produce several albums over the next few years.”

“Oh, my, how can he take on so many projects? Won’t that mean he’ll be away from home even more?”

Jane smiled broadly. “No, in fact, he’s already talking about retiring from opera. Other than the Christian concerts he’ll be doing, he will spend most of his time at home learning new songs and preparing for his recordings.” Jane glanced at the podium then put a finger to her lips. “Shh. It’s time for his concert to begin.”

The pastor moved to the microphone, surveying the crowded sanctuary. “We’re so glad to have you here with us tonight. You are in for a real treat. The name Keene Moray is known all over the world. Keene is a professional and at the peak of his career. But a little over a year ago, God spoke to his heart, and Keene accepted Christ as his Savior. Now a major portion of his time is spent giving concerts like the one you’ll be hearing tonight.” Gesturing toward Keene, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor and privilege to introduce to you… Keene Moray.”

With an adoring glance toward his wife, Keene rose and stepped to the front of the platform. “Thank you, Pastor. But before I begin, I must introduce my wonderful, supportive wife. Jane, would you stand, please?”

She stood and waved to the crowd.

“And with Jane is her mother, Lutie Delaney.”

His mother-in-law turned and smiled at the audience.

“If it weren’t for Jane and her patient and consistent witness to me,” he went on, “I wouldn’t be here tonight. Her prayers are what brought me to a saving knowledge of Christ. Thank you, sweetheart.”

Jane blew him a kiss. Though Keene always introduced her and said the same sweet things about her, she never tired of hearing them.

“Much of the music I’ll be performing tonight is from an Easter pageant. Its words and music, plus the prayers of Jane and the other members of Randlewood Community Church in Providence, Rhode Island, are what brought me into God’s fold.”

He paused, and Jane knew he was remembering that night.

“A little over a year ago, I was invited to sing the part of Jesus in the Easter pageant
Down from the Cross.
At the time, I did not believe God existed. But through singing the part of Jesus and realizing the suffering He endured to take my sins upon Him and die on the cross, I knew I was a sinner and wanted to be saved.”

Keene pulled out his handkerchief and wiped at his eyes. “On the final night of the pageant, Easter night, as I hung on that cross, I realized I was a sinner and unworthy to portray the Son of God. I frantically asked the soldiers to take me down. I could not bear to hang there a minute longer. When they stood me to my feet, I fell at the foot of the cross and asked God to forgive me of my sins and accept me into His family.”

He bowed his head, his chest heaving silently. When he finally looked up at the audience, tears were streaming down his ruddy face. “I implore each of you: If you have not accepted Christ, do it tonight. Don’t put it off like I did.”

He nodded to his accompanist, and she began to play.

“Please, listen to the words. Let them touch your heart as they touched mine that night, over a year ago, when I came ‘down from the cross’ to accept my Lord.”

To my dear husband, Don Livingston, who is also my number one fan. Of all the books I have written, this one—
Down from the Cross
—is his favorite. Two months ago, Don was diagnosed with brain cancer and underwent surgery to remove a golf ball–sized tumor. Things looked bleak. On his way to the hospital, he turned and with tears in his eyes said he wanted the Lord to allow him to live long enough to hold the published book in his hands. You see, he is in this writing ministry with me. Each time one of my books is released, Don purchases a number of copies and mails them to family, friends, and those he wants to see accept Christ as their Savior. He believed so strongly in the message of
Down from the Cross,
he wanted to live long enough to share it with a long list of people, many who are in the public eye. As I write this dedication, Don is still with me. God willing, he will live long enough to meet his goal. I love him dearly and cannot imagine life without him. Please pray for us.

A note from the Author:

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Joyce Livingston
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