Finding Me (31 page)

“Are you getting excited? About being a mother, I mean?”

“You have no idea. The doctors had told me I probably wouldn’t be able to get pregnant, and for several years they seemed to be right. I definitely appreciate being pregnant more than most people.”

Alison arrived with the tea. “According to Beth, you are working your fingers to the bone at Kenmore’s store these days.”

“I wouldn’t quite say that, but it’s definitely keeping me busy.”

“I’m sure you’re doing a good job, but do remember to take care of yourself, too.”

“They say that music is a good way to relax.” Beth grinned at them.

Kelli smirked at Alison. “Is she always this stubborn?”

“She gets an idea in her head, and just beats you down until you do what she wants you to do. At this point in my life, I’ve
decided it’s usually just easier to give in sooner rather than later, and then I can get on with my life.” She tilted her head down and peered at her daughter over the top of her reading glasses, a mock-stern expression on her face.

Beth quirked one eyebrow and looked at Kelli. “A lesson you would do well to learn, as well. Oh come on, you’re here already.”

Kelli laughed. “I don’t quite understand why the fact that I do not sing in church has made you so determined that I need to take a singing lesson.”

“I get the feeling that somewhere along the line, someone in your life has hurt you and it has to do with music. This is something that is worth fighting through, and Mom and I are right here to help you.”

“Yes, we’re here to help you—not harass you or bully you.” Alison cast a stern glance toward Beth.

Beth’s face turned pink. “Sorry. I just can’t seem to stop myself sometimes.” She looked at Kelli. “I really am sorry. I’ll stop.”

“To tell you the truth, it scares me to death, the idea of singing in front of people, or even near them. It’s fairly crippling to feel this way.”

“Sometimes if someone is uncomfortable singing alone, I sing with them. That way, it’s a little less in-the-spotlight. But there’s no pressure here to do anything. In fact, we can change the subject altogether.”

“I . . . uh . . . I can try it.” Kelli’s mouth had gone cotton dry, and the words came out a little croaky.

“Really? Oh, really? You’re gonna love this, I just know you are.” Beth was bouncing her head against the pillow.

Alison glanced toward the door. “Why don’t we go into the den? The sound is better, and we won’t have an audience in there.”

“Wait. But I want to hear . . .”

Alison ruffled Beth’s hair, then led Kelli out into the small
den-turned-music-room. “Take a few deep breaths and just relax. Don’t worry, I’ll work you into this slowly—that is, if you’re sure you want to.”

The deep breaths actually did help Kelli relax a little. Now that she’d finally agreed to do it, she looked forward to working through some of her past fear, and soaking in the closest thing to love she would ever receive from the woman who had once been her mother.

“Your voice is truly something special. Do you think you want to try something on your own?”

Kelli shook her head. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Not a problem. Here, I’ll teach you one of the songs I happen to know we are singing at church tomorrow. We’ll practice it together.”

It took a few run-throughs before Kelli got comfortable with the tune, but then she began to really feel the music. When they finished, Alison said, “Beautiful.”

When they finally returned to Beth’s room, she had tears in her eyes. “Wow” was the only thing she said.

“I don’t really understand some of the lyrics,” Kelli told them. “‘Not because of who I am, but because of what you’ve done. Not because of what I’ve done, but because of who you are.’ That doesn’t seem appropriate for church.”

Beth was in Kelli’s peripheral vision, but Kelli could see her mouth fall open. Alison, however, didn’t seem the least bit shocked. “What the lyrics mean is that nothing we do or don’t do makes us right before God. Only because of what God did for us, offering His Son to die for our sins, can make us right with God.”

“But that’s not right. It is what we do—living a good life and doing our best. Because a lot of good people don’t believe in Jesus,
but that’s not their fault. God wouldn’t punish them for that, as long as they are good people.”

Alison paused for a moment and took a breath. Kelli had the distinct impression she was trying to collect her thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was calm and soft. “Kelli, what it comes down to is whether you believe God is God and whether you believe that He sent Jesus. Because if the answer to both of those questions is yes, then you have to ask yourself, if all it takes for us to live close to God is to be the best person we can be, why would God send Jesus to suffer the terrible death that He did? That’s not the kind of thing you would do unless it was absolutely necessary—unless there was no other way. It certainly wouldn’t make God a God of love, now, would it?”

“But that’s not fair, if God limits himself to only people who believe one way.”

“There is a great unfairness in all this, you are right, but every bit of that unfairness was carried by Jesus when He died for sins He did not commit.”

Kelli shook her head. This conversation did not make sense to her, but the last thing she wanted to do was to get into a theological argument on perhaps the closest day she would ever spend with her mother. “Well, thanks for the singing lesson.” There was still tension in the room and Kelli could not allow things to end this way. She glanced toward Beth and smiled. “I enjoyed it a lot more than I thought I would. I’m glad I let Beth bully me into doing this.”

“I did not bully. And I knew you’d like it if you just gave it a try. I believe that an ‘I told you so’ could be in order here.”

“Maybe so.” Kelli was grateful that Beth had quickly taken the change in conversation. “Okay, you win. You were right.”

“Of course I am. That’s exactly what I said, isn’t it?” Beth folded her arms across her chest and grinned.

Kelli turned back toward Alison. “Truly, though, thanks again.”

“It was my pleasure. You have an amazing voice, and your tone and pitch are almost spot on. For someone who’s never done much singing, it’s amazing. Here, let me give you something.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a CD. “This has some practice scales on it. You can take it home and work on it whenever you feel like it.”

“You know what?” Beth turned to fluff her pillows. “You two sound really good together. I think you should do a duet or something.”

“I’m not ready for that yet.” Kelli choked on the last few words. There were a lot of things about this she wasn’t ready for.

She walked out of Alison’s house, got in her car, and drove back to the duplex. She somehow made it inside before she burst into tears. She wasn’t certain what the emotional outburst was all about. She just . . . felt. A lot. And a lot of everything.

“Dad, look at this.” Shane came and knelt beside Kenmore’s recliner, his laptop in hand.

When Kenmore saw what was on the screen, he turned back toward the TV, pretending to be absorbed in the current smartphone commercial. “What?” He tried to sound more grumpy than cornered, but Shane knew him too well. He’d see right through it.

“This is an article about Kelli’s parents and the car wreck.”

“Oh right. Sad story.”

“Sad story, right, but look at his picture.” Shane pushed the computer into Kenmore’s lap.

“Yeah, she told me all about it. I don’t have to read the details.” He tried to look away, but he couldn’t. His gaze was fixed on the person he used to know.

“Doesn’t he look a whole lot like David Waters? I mean,
obviously I was little when David was around, but this guy looks a
whole lot
like the photos I’ve seen of him.”

Kenmore shrugged. “I guess I see a little resemblance.”

“A little resemblance? Are you kidding me? He looks older, of course, but David would have been older. I think it’s downright spooky.”

“Do me a favor, don’t mention this to anyone else, okay? It would just upset everyone—Kelli, Beth, Alison.”

“I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t bring up someone’s dead father or husband because I saw a picture of someone who looks like them. I just thought it was interesting, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Kenmore nodded toward the screen. “This is a good game.”

When Shane stood up, he stared down at his father for a long time, and that’s when Kenmore knew he’d played it off a little too much. Shane’s wheels were spinning, there was no doubt about it. That couldn’t mean anything good for any of them.

36

K
elli walked into City Center Church on Sunday morning, wondering why she continued to come here, now that she had another excuse to see Beth and Alison. It had become something of a habit, she supposed, and it had the potential to raise too many questions if she suddenly stopped. Best to keep going through the motions.

Alison was nowhere to be seen, so Kelli took a seat near the back. She stuffed her purse up under the seat in front of her, crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, and tried to leaf through the bulletin a middle-aged woman had handed her when she’d entered. Someone stirred to her left, and she turned in time to see Alison sliding in beside her. Since this was quite a bit further back than Alison normally sat, there could be no question that she was sitting here to be with Kelli. Her mother was choosing to be with her, even having no idea who she was.

Kelli managed a quick hello.

Alison squeezed her arm. “Good morning.”

The first song was “Amazing Grace.” Although Kelli and Alison had not sung this one yesterday, Kelli figured anyone who had
grown up in America knew at least a little bit of this song. Kelli took a deep breath and steeled her nerves but found that she couldn’t open her mouth. At all. Maybe she should just listen to the first verse, get the rhythm, and then she could join in with the second.

“’Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fear relieved . . .” Once again Kelli took a deep breath, but based on the nerves that had built up inside her chest, she could have been singing a solo in front of the entire church. This was crazy. She was simply trying to join in with a large group singing the same song—a group where her voice would not even be differentiated from anyone else’s. Her mouth would not open.

Two songs later, they began singing the song Kelli and Alison had practiced yesterday. By this point, tears had started spilling down her cheeks, and she had given up all hope of actually participating. She looked sideways toward Alison, who was facing the front and singing. Kelli knew that she was being discreet, but that she was listening and watching expectantly, waiting to see the results from yesterday. Except there were none.

She took another breath, opened her mouth, and . . . failed. Again. She could not force out a single sound. She sat through the rest of the service with one thought and one thought only in her mind.

I think I hate my dad.