Down from the Cross (9 page)

At noon, she gave him the call slip, along with several others—most of them from women who had called before. “You’re a popular man,” she said, smiling at him over a carton of sweet and sour chicken. “It seems most of the calls I take for you are from women.”

He grinned. “What can I say? I admit I enjoy the company of beautiful women.”

She eyed him with a frown. “But you’ve never married?”

“With my schedule and all my traveling?”

It is none of my business, but I am going to ask you anyway.
“Don’t you want a wife and children?”

He stared off into space thoughtfully, and she knew he was weighing his answer before stating it. “Sure, I’d like to have a wife and family. However, with my lifestyle, it just would not work. Besides, there’s an even greater problem than my schedule and traveling that keeps me from getting married.”

“Oh? Dare I ask what it is?” She looked at him cautiously, wishing she could retract her words. He may have a physical problem he would prefer not to discuss with her. She would never want to embarrass him—or herself! And what business was it of hers anyway?

Quickly turning his attention toward her with a mischievous smile, he confessed, “I haven’t found the right woman.”

Her mouth gaped. That was not the answer she had expected. “You’ve got to be kidding! With all the women who call you? Keene! Surely you’re not serious!”

His expression sobered. “Oh, but I am serious. As much as I value the many female friendships I’ve made over the years, and the times I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of a beautiful woman’s company for an evening, I can honestly say I haven’t found a single one I’d want to marry and call my wife.” He dipped his head shyly. “That sounds a bit pompous, doesn’t it?”

She considered his remark. “No, I don’t think it makes you sound pompous. If you haven’t found that one perfect love— the one God…” She stopped short and bit her lip.

“The one God intended for me?” He gave her a playful wink.

“Yes, that’s what I was going to say,” she answered demurely.

He set his carton of lemon chicken on the table and reached across, cupping her hand in his. “Is that what you’re waiting for, Jane? A perfect man?”

She felt her eyes widen. “I’m not looking for a perfect man. I’m looking for the man God has intended for me. No earthly man is perfect.” She took a deep breath.
I have to say this right, so he’ll understand.
“Keene, God has a plan for each of us. His perfect plan. If we love Him and want to serve Him, He’ll guide us to the one with whom He would have us spend our life.”

He gave her hand a slight squeeze. “Does that mean—out there somewhere—the man of your dreams is looking for you?”

She offered a nervous snicker. “I hope so, but only if God intends that I marry. Maybe, in His perfect plan, I’ll remain single all my life.”

Keene reared his head back with a hearty laugh. “No way! You are beautiful, intelligent, and one of the most caring, considerate women I have ever met. Some man is going to come along and snatch you up. Take my word for it.”

His complimentary words caught her off guard, and she found herself speechless.

“Actually,” he said slowly, sizing her up, “those qualities are exactly what I’d like to have in a wife.”

Although she couldn’t see her own face, she knew it must be as red as a radish.

“Tell me, Jane. What qualities would you like your husband to have?”

As his thumb stroked her hand, she actually felt goose bumps rise on her arms. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice.

“Ah… I…”

“Surely, you’ve thought about that. Don’t be shy. Tell me.”

Oh, Lord—give me the words.
“First and foremost, he’d have to love God as much as I do.”

Keene leaned toward her with a tender smile. “Knowing you, I expected that to be your first priority.”

Thank You, God.
“Well… he’d have to be kind, caring, and considerate.”

“You haven’t said handsome or rich,” he prodded with a teasing smile.

“Neither of those things is important to me,” she confessed honestly. “I want him to be beautiful on the inside, of course. I don’t care about handsome. Nor do I care about rich. I know the man God would have me marry would want to provide adequately for his family. We’d be a team.”

“What about children?”

That subject always made her smile. She longed to be a mother someday. “Oh, yes. He’d want children. I cannot imagine God ever pairing me with a man who didn’t. Not with the love for children He’s placed in my heart. I’d like to have at least four or five.”

Keene blinked hard then stared at her. “Four or five children? Really?”

She nodded. “At least. Don’t you want children?”

He released her hand and leaned back in the chair, locking his fingers over his chest. “If I didn’t have to travel. I could not bear the idea of going off and leaving a family behind. Kids need their dad around.”

“It would be difficult. I know I couldn’t do it.”

He rose quickly. “I’ve got an appointment in half an hour. I’d better be heading out.” He reached for his empty cartons, but she got to them first.

“You go on. I’ll take care of this.”

He wadded up his paper napkin and stuffed it into one of the empty cartons before making sure his wallet was in his back pocket and heading toward the door. “Been good visiting with you. I enjoy our little talks.”

She gave him a sheepish smile. He’d never know how much she enjoyed them. “Me, too.”

Jane worked at the desk, taking care of routine things like making out checks for Keene’s bills, answering the many phone calls that came in from all over the world, getting out the mailings he’d prepared for those on his select fan list, and dozens of other chores. But something niggled at her mind all afternoon.

At four o’clock, she called her pastor.

Jane glanced nervously at the clock on the wall in Pastor Congdon’s office. Nearly eight o’clock. Without warning, a side door opened and Kevin Blair, a longtime member of Randlewood Community Church, crooked his finger at her. “You can come in, Jane. We’re ready for you now.”

As Jane followed Kevin into the large room adjoining the pastor’s office, she glanced around the big table at the many familiar faces of those who served on the church board.

“Gentlemen, I received an interesting phone call from Jane this afternoon. I have invited her here this evening to tell you, in person, what she told me. I think you’ll be interested.”

Jane’s heart sank into her shoes. She rarely spoke to a group, other than to the women of her Bible study, and even then she shook while she talked. She waited until Pastor Congdon had seated himself before drawing a deep breath and asking the Lord to help her state her purpose clearly and concisely.

“I–I…”
Please, God. Calm me down.
“I’m as upset as anyone about our Easter pageant being canceled. Those of us who sing in the choir and have had the opportunity to practice
Down from the Cross
were excited about its message and how both the words and music could touch hearts. It’s… it’s the most powerful testimony to God’s mercy and grace that we’ve ever heard.”

She paused, glancing around the table at each person.
God, give them open minds, please.
“I have an idea—a way that will allow us to go ahead with our plans to present the Easter program.”

“Without Jim Carter?” one of the older men interjected quickly, his beady eyes staring at her over funny little half-glasses perched low on his nose.

“Hear her out,” Pastor Congdon said quickly.

Jane gave him a grateful smile then continued. “I won’t go into detail, other than to say that through a series of circumstances that I feel came from the hand of God, I now work for Keene Moray. Some of you may recognize that name.”

Some nodded their heads, acknowledging that they did indeed know who he was, while others gave her a blank stare or turned to the person seated next to them in bewilderment.

“Isn’t he that famous opera singer?” one of them finally asked.

She nodded.
Don’t let them close their minds before they hear me out, God.
“Yes, Keene is quite famous, highly respected in the music world, and very much in demand.”

“What’s that got to do with our problem?” The man with the little glasses leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Like I said, I work for Keene. He is making his home in Providence for the next few months, learning and rehearsing the new opera he will be performing next year. We’ve… we’ve become good friends.”

Pastor Congdon cleared his throat. “Go on. Tell them your idea, Jane.”

Her heart raced. If she didn’t feel God’s guidance in this, she would run out of the room and never look back. “I–I don’t know if Mr. Moray would have any interest in what I am about to propose, or if it’s even possible with his contract, but I’d like the board’s permission to ask Keene to sing Jim Carter’s part—the part of Jesus—in
Down from the Cross.”

One of the younger men leaped to his feet and glared at her. “Do you have any idea what it would cost to hire someone like him? I know the church wouldn’t be able to afford it!”

“I’m sure he has a contract of some sort that requires union fees. We sure couldn’t afford to pay him that kind of money,” another added.

Jane chose her words carefully. “I–I was hoping he’d figure out a way to do it for a minimal fee, maybe even gratis.”

“Why would he do that? He’s never even been to our church, has he?” another asked.

Pastor Congdon stood and leaned forward. “Gentlemen, if I may, I’d like to add something to what Jane has said.”

All eyes turned his way.

“When Jane called me, I was skeptical about this idea just like you are. But the more she talked, and the more I listened, I realized this could be the answer to all our prayers—prayers that, in some way, God would make it possible to provide this community with the truth of His Word through our Easter presentation.”

He paused and rested his palms on the conference table. “This man may not even consider Jane’s idea, but then again, maybe he will. She feels it is worth a try to ask him. I agree with her.”

“But is he saved? Does he know the Lord?” a man seated next to the pastor asked.

Jane felt she should answer his question since she was the only one personally acquainted with Keene. “No, he is not saved, though I have been witnessing to him nearly every day. At times he seems open, and I’m praying he’ll confess his sins and ask God’s forgiveness before he leaves Rhode Island. He’s a wonderful man and a gentleman. You’d all like him.”

“I’ve always questioned anyone playing the part of Jesus, even Jim Carter, but an unsaved man? I’m not sure that would be wise,” another man offered, concern written on his face.

“I understand what you’re saying, Milton,” Pastor Congdon said kindly. “But let’s think about this carefully. What is our goal here? Is it not to reach the people in our community with the message of God’s Word? Through music and the spoken word? Isn’t that the reason we always have an altar call at the end of each performance?”

“But an unsaved man singing the part of our Lord?”

Pastor Congdon rubbed his chin. “Tell me, Milton, do you know for sure that each member of our choir is saved? We have a big choir, some 150 people on any given Sunday. Some folks just like to sing and want an outlet for their talent.”

Milton stared at him for a moment before answering. “I hate to admit it, but you may be right.”

Pastor Congdon gave the man an appreciative smile. “Let me bring up another point here. We have a fairly large orchestra to back up our choir on Sunday mornings, right?”

Everyone present nodded.

“Have you forgotten we hire about half of those people? They are not even members of our church, but we hire them because they are professionals and we need them. The other half are our own dedicated church members who do it for free because they want to serve God with their talents. Should we fire those whom we hire or think any less of the musicians and their capabilities because they may not claim to be Christians?”

Milton spoke up again. “But hire a man to play the part of Jesus? Shouldn’t the man who plays that part be a Christian?”

“That’s what we’re here to decide,” the chairman of the board said, scanning each face. “At this point, we don’t even know if Mr. Moray would consider such an invitation should we decide to offer it. He may give us a flat no, and that’ll be the end of it.” His face took on a gentle smile. “But I personally think Jane’s idea has great merit. Think about it. Each year, though we fill our sanctuary for eight straight nights, and we’ve done everything but get down on our knees and beg the newspapers, radio, and television stations for coverage, we’ve had very little publicity. And,” he went on, “I’m sorry to say, but although many people come forward for salvation or rededication, most of those in our audience are Christians.”

Pastor Congdon nodded his head. “He’s right. All you have to do is look at the attendance cards we ask everyone to sign.”

“What if—” The man’s eyes sparkled as he continued. “What if Keene Moray, a famous opera singer, were to sing the lead part in our Easter production? Think of the possibilities to reach people with the gospel, gentlemen. People from all over the state would come to hear him! What would it cost them to attend a performance at the opera? Maybe $60 or $70 a seat? And they would be attending our performance for free! I am not sure we would be able to contain the crowds! Do you think we’d have to beg the media for coverage with him singing the part of Jesus?”